His father, Frank Applewater, was not excited at the prospect of fatherhood. He took off to live his life in California, free from the responsibility to his impending son, when I was seven months pregnant with his offspring. Fred is 5-10, the athletic sort, and shares my darkish complexion and hair but has his father's blue eyes and charming smile. My second child, Elizabeth, is 18 years old, the daughter of myself and her father both biologically and in terms of her upbringing, the acting father of my son, and my former husband, Arthur Walsh. She is the sunny, flirtatious sort, her dark hair usually in pigtails framing her unbearably cute facial features and the same brilliant emerald eyes as Arthur. Her body is sleek, springy, and athletic in contrast to my own voluptuous curves. About a year and a half ago, I returned home early from a day at the spa and walked in on Arthur with a slutty teenaged neighbor of ours bent over Elizabeth's bed, pounding her pussy with reckless abandon. I suppose, gave me a chance to think about my wound. Death tore at my body, yet I stood strong and fierce as the sword moved me to destroy the demons. The blood drawn by the talons of death seeped beneath my shirt, as I struggled to fight on.For eons we –the sword and me - fought the legions of the damned, until there was literally, none left. The landscape became a newly occupied graveyard for the devils of hell and their ilk. The sword smoothly slid from my hand, hovered over the fields of death, and then seemed to bow to me, before disappearing.I stood alone in the center of a vast plain of death. The demons were gone. Only the barest hint of their bodies remained. Their remains littered the battlefield looking like abandoned cloaks. A cloak, once removed had no form, just like what was left of my tormenters.In the distance I heard the saddest melody. It brought tears to my very soul, even as my heart twisted in unison with the song that played in the place of the dead. The notes.
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