Shirley Spearson stood outside the house with some relief. The neighborhood at first frightened her. It was a marginal area that the city was trying its bureaucratic best to modernize by making it a Development Zone. The mixed bag of seedy business fronts, low-end hotels and old homes in various levels of repair gave it an eclectic charm.

There were still the slipshod multicolored hippie houses spotted here and about. She could imagine what the area was like in the sixties. The communes, crashing and exploring relationships, loud drums and guitar music, Slick singing of rabbits, Ferlingetti rambling and 'Something's happening here', the herbal smell of burning pot smoke wafting in the air and street parties everywhere. Harlequin dressed, longhaired freaky people just trippin' on a groovy day; a brief and different time, a time before the real world crushed the mood and illusion of peace, a time before hers.

The whole street had a look of age. Stories told and forgotten. Actions recorded and filed away somewhere in hidden places, just like the people who once lived here. People are often filed away and forgotten even when they still live. But here, there was a valiant attempt to bring the neighborhood back to life. Across the street was a Lawyer's office remodeled from an old Victorian, painted with far too many shades of green, gild and a pompous flash, clearly more elegant than was the original. Her future employer's house was, however, just as Shirley would have imagined an old turn of the century house would be. It too was elegant, but in a refined way. There was subtlety here, pride without being obsessive or ostentatious. The small lawn and flowerbed along side the walkway, was fenced with a small white picket. The house was maintained and painted in subdued tones. It was born here, long ago, and in spite of the troublesome eclectic quality of the neighborhood the house was somehow at peace. Shirley shook her head at the whimsical turn of fantasy on which she found her mind. She had taken the trolley and had to walk up from C Street to First and Front. She was hot, uncomfortable and a bit frightened. Neighborhoods like this in Cleveland were not to be tread by single women, day or night. Shirley knew herself to be attractive- but decent and thirty-five is certainly not old. Her thoughts moved from the house to the trickle of assuredly unpleasant sweat, at that moment, dripping down her armpit. She had walked past a magnificent Catholic Church and it surprised her that it would be here. San Diego was such a bright and shiny jewel, why would it need such a church? Everyone here must live in the gentle here- and- now and reject such religious superstitions that she herself could not. Another sweat bead fell in her eye. The salt stung her and forced out a prayer asking God to forgive her. The newer contrary religions were Lucifer's lure and she dared not bite. She looked around and wondered if there was an accoster around. 'Maybe she could meet him and…' She reddened at the stupidity of the thought. Her long dry spell without affection was her own doing and the thought that a violent monster could be tamed to be obedient to her whims was crazy. The last one certainly wasn't. Her mind went blank of the unpleasant thought and she whispered the Act of Contrition

Front Street was high on a hill. She could hear the freeway to her left. When she turned around she could just see the bay sparkling with thousands of dancing diamonds. Sailboats dotted the glistening water. It was a painting, a modern one painted with acrylic hope and bold primary colors of promise and redemption. She made a mental note to go to confession Saturday. Maybe have a chat with one of the surely forward thinking priests who reside in this fine city. She looked forward to a theology for the living. In her mind she tried to imagine the sea being just down from her. She could feel that older sea rich with the smell of fresh caught fish and could hear the rough talk of long dead sailors. She knew that the land had been taken from the sea and the whole of the high- rised downtown sat on that manhandled dredged and artificial earth. It bothered her that she knew and she didn't know why. She turned to walk up the inviting sidewalk and stopped short. The air had gotten cold and damp. A fog had enclosed her. She heard footsteps behind her. The sound stopped. The fog cleared and a tall, dark shadowy man stood just feet from her. He was staring at her in a rude and aggressive way. Shirley stared at him, in an uncharacteristically brave fashion, she asked him his business. He answered but it was a low rumble of barely heard syllables. He turned and walked down the street. The fog would break in sections and she was astonished to see what she had just imagined. There was the port at the foot of Front Street. She could hear the fishermen's rough talk and see the great sailing ships anchored in the water. Then in an instant it was gone and the warm sun beat down on her fair skin. She shaded her eyes as if that would help to return the impossibly romantic vision she just had. She clucked and cursed herself as an easily suggestive fool. Weak mindedness is not what she needed now. She prayed to Jesus above to grant her wisdom and strength. She added that if the Lord Father wasn't too busy with people of real importance, could He keep an eye on her. She gathered herself, a study in determination and poise, and walked to the door and rang the bell with a will born of faith.

The door opened the minute the bell rang and standing there was a stunningly handsome black woman of forty- something. She was dressed in a shift of silk ablaze with tropical florals of blaring color. She wore an absurdly different style of apron, checker board black and white that made the eyes swim. In her hands or more accurately on her hand was a large chicken hopefully about to be roasted or fried.

"What are you doing standing there girl? I got a chicken to jerk. Come in out of da heat. Been like it all week." The women grasped Shirley's arm and pulled her into the elegant wood and brass rich foyer." Not supposed to be hot like that here. 'Tis the Mother Earth crying out for her children to take better care or 'tis the El Nino. Don't really know past my foolish ideas." She threw her head back and laughed unabashedly. Impossibly large white teeth filled her smile and her eyes were buried in wrinkles of mirth.

The woman looked Shirley up and down in a way that had her feel uncomfortable. In a few brief moments she had been handled, without so much as an introduction, been forced to listen to the ravings of an idolater and looked over in such a manner as to decry common decency.

"You are a waif…do you not eat girl?"

Shirley dropped her suitcases with obvious ire.

"I would ask you…" The scolding words barely left her lips.

"Come into my kitchen. Oreena will feed you something to soothe that puritan stiffness out of your back and put you in a gentler mood. No doubt the trip out has rattled your manner and made you unfriendly. In this house we are always in the finest of humor and why not? We live in a beautiful city and the sun most always shines. Oreena is the best Cook in the world and a genius with the sweets. Looking at you I'll bet you haven't touched a sweet in a long while. Come!"

Oreena grabbed her again and ran her into the kitchen, sat her on a chair and shoved her up to the small table next to a ten -pane window overlooking the backyard. A beautiful vegetable garden and flowers prospered everywhere covering the whole of the garden fence to fence. Oreena opened the refrigerator door jarring Shirley away from her concentrated admiration. Oreena produced a custard and fruit tart and sat it down in front of Shirley. The older woman looked down on her with a look that told Shirley that there was to be no refusal. The tart was nothing less than art and the delicacy in the matter of its form and the delicious color of the fruit was dazzling. She looked up at the woman and forgave her untoward manner. If this treat tasted anything like it looked, it was a sin and the woman was the genius that she professed to be.

"Eat it with your finger. Here!" Oreena went to the sink, wet and lightly soaped a towel. She turned and handed it to Shirley. She wiped her hands without ever taking her eyes from Oreena's face.

"Eat it now my girl 'tis pretty, it's made for the eyes sure, but the tongue will dance with it."

Shirley did not eat desserts, she feared obesity, but there was no resisting. The minute the tart hit her tongue she gasped, never had she tasted anything so wonderful. Each bite was better than the one before. The palate did not tire; instead each new mouthful was a new sensation. She was lost in the flavors and suddenly found herself on a beach somewhere far from the kitchen table.

The breeze was a gentle warm caressing her lush tanned body. She stood and stripped out of her tank top and shorts and ran into the clear blue water. The feeling of her breasts bouncing was a sensation she had never known and it was wanton and curiously pleasant. She waded out in the cool water up to her thigh tops and looked at the too blue sky through her sunglasses. Her hands roved over her breasts and belly in a display of reckless abandon. She moved her hand down to her pubic hair rubbing absently. A most wicked thought ran through her mind as she touched her most private self. A delightful shock ran through her. 'If only there was a man.' She heard a whistle and looked toward the beach and there he was, tanned, well muscled and beautiful. She giggled and began to display all her charms to the stranger. She splashed, wiggled, bent and threw her hair this way and that. All to lure him in the water. He bit and was hooked. The Adonis dropped his own shorts and came through the water like a plow. He came up to her, looking her over and breathing heavily. He reached around her and put both his hands gently on her naked bottom, lifting the cheeks just enough so the pull would have her be aware of her womanhood. He kissed her.

Shirley jumped and was staring at Oreena who laughed and turned back to her cooking.

"You like my cooking. Your room is upstairs the first door to the right. Go freshen up, shower…you have time before dinner. You'll meet Mrs. Archer at dinner. We all eat together."

Shirley wondered on the state of her mind.

"It was a dream, my girl…go freshen up…Go!"

Shirley stood and straightened herself." Was there an hallucinogenic in that tart?"

"Shut up…" Oreena laughed." My cooking is perfect. If you should see something it is because it's in you to have such a vision. Don't blame me my girl. Go and get your shameful self cleaned up."

Shirley stared red faced at the woman. There was no way she could know what Shirley saw and felt, unless she was a witch. She dropped her head, crossed her self and prayed for protection.

"You silly thing …why would you need protection from me. I'm only the cook. Pray that you handle the affairs of this house as well as you handled that one on the beach." Oreena giggled." And when you get around to finishing that little daydream tell Oreena all about it! Now girl, enough of this dallying. I mean it! Go get you put away and tidy. Dinner is in a half- an- hour."

She did as she was told. Her suitcases were where she had dropped them. She looked back on the kitchen and wondered what she had gotten herself into.

The shower was just the thing. Shirley walked from the opulent bathroom and into her bedroom. It was really more than that. It had an alcove for a large four poster bed with lace tenting. In the corner of the space was a lovely marble-topped table with a Tiffany lamp. Next to the table was a hunter green velvet upholstered recliner. On the opposite wall was a tall magnificent set of drawers with masterfully carved floral details on each drawer face. The main sitting area had an office set up by the window looking down Front Street. The desk was dark oak and though made to appear old was configured for a computer tower, screen, keyboard, printer, fax, copier and disc and hard-copy file storage. The rest of the room was a living room, as Shirley understood that term. There were two overstuffed chairs, a sofa, coffee table, side tables with elegant lamps. The walls were painted in the French style, the walls were a lovely shade of green and the trim and doors, baseboards and crown mold were in a bright white. The paintings on the wall were all from good impressionist artists, which was Shirley's favorite painting style. Even a beautiful one that resembled the vision she had experienced outside. Whatever she thought downstairs was fading in the ease and comfort of her new surroundings. She even noticed that there were water jets in the tub; she would remember to ask Oreena how to use the system. Laughter rolled out of her as she covered her mouth. Oreena would no doubt have a use other than cleanliness. Walking over to the desk, still laughing, she jotted down a note to make sure she stopped by the church this Saturday. That poor Priest may be seeing a lot of little Miss Spearson. She didn't even bother to unpack. When she checked the closets the racks were full of expensive and well-made dresses and blouses in the finest fabric. The set of drawers was full of exquisitely shameful silk and lace under-things of a skimpiness that made her blush. There was a knock on the door and Oreena called to her that dinner would be served in five minutes.

Shirley stood in the all-together and fretted.

"The clothes are all yours and they will fit your skinny frame perfectly. Put your suitcases out on the front porch before we retire tonight. They will go out in the trash. Ain't nothing in them, girl, that I will let you wear in front of the Lady. For now slip on a shirt-dress over nothing and get down here before what I took so long to make ends up cold and me in a horrid mood." The voice through the door diminished.

Shirley ran to the closet and picked out a dress and slipped it on. The nakedness beneath the dress made her too aware and she had to make a good impression on her new employer. She decided to wear panties just for propriety's sake. Then she ran down stairs into the kitchen still brushing her hair.

"Better! We eat in the dinning room. Don't brush your hair in my kitchen." Oreena slapped Shirley's butt." Come!" Oreena pointed to a door.

Shirley ignored the familiarity and opened the door to a beautiful formal dinning room. The cherry wood table was set in fine china and crystal. Shinning silver lids covered serving dishes allowed mouthwatering aromas to escape into the chandeliered formal dinning room Mrs. Archer was of an age where it was hard to determine her years. Her beauty had not faded just altered appropriately to a more regal and dignified mien. She was sitting in a wheelchair looking at Shirley with obvious intent.

"Come my girl and sit over here next to me."

Shirley walked over with weighted shyness.

"Sweet heart, I won't bite…hard." The old women smiled endearingly.

"Oreena will come in espousing her culinary genius in a moment. In the mean time, my dear, let us get a bit aquatinted. Sit, please, here to my left."

Shirley liked her instantly. Whatever infirmity the woman suffered did not change a cheerful and engaging deportment. Shirley sat in the fully upholstered chair, arranging herself, knowing she was not properly dressed for such an occasion.

"You know of course that I knew your previous employer and she raved about you. It is how you come to my house. I was distressed to find out she had decided to go into a care facility. Is she lucid?"

Shirley dropped her eyes in reverence for her former employer, Ms. Jennings.

"She made the decision before her mind went completely. She is now unaware of her surroundings and rambles on about another life, much different from her own. It was upsetting." Shirley's eyes teared just slightly.

"Please don't be upset. I understand you settled her affairs with the respect and gratitude of her family. Good for you! I have read that effects of Alzheimer's can cause a person to dream up another life. It is not uncommon. I thank the dear Lord that I don't suffer such a dreadful ailment. But after all Ruth is one hundred and two, perhaps the mind tires of the way life will not be as we wish and toward the end of ones days the mind decides it has had enough. Another life, internally longed for, can be created as a gift from the Creator. I find that comforting. Don't you?"

"I never gave it thought. I fear I still may be grieving." Shirley felt a need to spout the edicts of her faith but held back.

Oreena burst through the pass-way door with a grand flourish.

"Here it is, another masterpiece. Am I not wonderful? Wait till you taste this. We will start with a butter leaf salad with mango- coconut- raisin relish, with sweet and sour vinaigrette dressing. Then a fried breaded banana sitting golden in an orange rum sauce. The entree is Jerk Chicken, my Momma's recipe." She winked at Mrs. Archer."… Black bean and rice, and a Mango sorbet. For dessert an Apricot yogurt cake with an Orange honey sauce and a sweet creme French roast coffee."

The beautiful salad was laid down in front of Shirley. It was a delight to the eye. It looked as if each leaf had been laid down with intention and not a soupcon of relish had fallen to the sides. Oreena sat down and looked at Shirley with some impatience.

It was Mrs. Archer who spoke. "We are all good Catholics here, though I dare say we have differing views on the doctrines of our own faith. Please, my Dear, will you say grace."

There is not one thing that would have made Shirley more at home than that simple and inclusive request. She nodded and thanked the Lord for the bounty that will be put on their table by His grace and the ingenious preparations of Ms.Oreena. Before Shirley could say ' In Jesus' name. Amen' Oreena added " Lord please tell this delightful girl that Mizz was my Momma's name not mine. In Jesus we give thanks. Amen. Now let's get to this."

The meal was he best Shirley had ever eaten. She was a little ashamed of herself as the last bit of sweetness passed over her tongue. The panic set in and she shifted trying to think of a reason to leave the table so she could purge. When she looked up, she was ashamed at the stern look both women gave her.

"That is something you will not be allowed to do." Mrs. Archer scolded her as if she was a child.

"Shirley girl, what I cook is in perfect balance. We do not snack so we will not become fat. As for you, I will put twenty pounds on that anemic frame of yours in three months. We will take care of your wardrobe as you flesh out."

Shirley covered her mouth, shaking at the impossibly exposed shame and held back a scream of terror. The room went black then lightened from white to a beautiful sunny day.

She was standing on a hill over looking a long green and purple flowered valley. The hunger in her was loud and demanding. The women had done what they could to keep the young ones from starvation and illness. Herb broth and cold- dried roots could not sustain them after such a long hard winter. The stores in the caves would not have lasted another waning moon. They had lost nearly half the babies to hunger and fever in this first warming moon, and the sorrow of it had not one eager for what must be done; keeping the will to live was difficult. The men were weak but needed a successful hunt. She covered her eyes with her hands looking for the hunters. She had heard the calling horn just after sunup and it had lifted everyone's spirit. The sun was now full over head and she still could not see them. She prayed to the Goddess that the hunt went well. They all needed meat to gain enough strength to move south to the Great River Valley. She heard the horn again. It was blown by her man, the wisest of all the males, there was joy and a promise in its rapid calls.

The men would think that some storm god, fire god, or a heavenly beast- that combined all the animals they knew, would give them strength enough to find game and allow a kill. Women knew what men hungered for, besides the constant irritation for their need to bury their hard one in a woman's nest. They needed to know their god as if it were a companion. Women understood the separation, love, anger, caring, cruelty, depth and far reachings of the Goddess, but were forbidden to tell. It is a truth sung by women; when we all gather away from the men and camp together during our moon cycle,  allowing our blood flow to return to the earth.

The first man and woman lived in a valley where all was good and no one suffered. The Mother told the woman, that while the man hunts, she was to gather the healing foods that grow. One such holy plant was forbidden but the woman dug up its roots to heal a dreadful wound her man had received while on a hunt. when the woman saw the wound she, in her fear and anger, felt as if the Mother Goddess had betrayed her, for would she not die if her man died? Was it not the Mother Goddess that made man and woman to be as one? The man's wound did heal but they were ordered out of the sacred valley into a hard and cruel world. Woman knew then the pain of childbirth, the unreasoned anger of men, and the grief of death. But the women, in their lunar blood flow, gave back to the Earth and in that time did ease the anger of the Goddess. The men suffered the woman's transgression as well. The poor things searched and fretted over meaning in the silliest of things, it made them mad. It was the will of the Goddess that women knew and men searched. Men must search in their souls and in the world. They must seek meat and never be content. Women needed care and protection during the times when their children grew. It was the way of things. We all cleave to one another and survive; as best we are able.

A small boy pulled at her she looked down and smiled. Here was one who would know something of the ways of women. A few of these were born and she knew he would grow to be a Holy Man. There was both woman and man in him. The Old Woman, another liken to her son, had seen it. Four seasons of want, and he was still strong. He sang the birds songs and made a peaceful lilt when they all tried to sleep. Her son spent much time with the Old Woman. The women knew that the Old Woman had a weary and weakening body and was slowly passing knowledge into the soul of the boy. The men feared him already but they would let him live and grow. It was said that men like these took no woman, knew the will of the gods and could see the animals at a great distance. It was magic that men did not understand but accepted without complaint. They would dance before great fires and thank their made- up gods for the gift of such a man. And he, so small now, would sit on a large rock over that same fire and laugh in his heart. He would sing to the Goddess and the Father in a tongue no one could understand and the tribe would grow and prosper above all others.

She saw the men, they were carrying poles and fur and hide slings, full of meat. She looked down at her son thanking him for his gentle magic. The boy pointed to the valley below and called his father's name. His little face alit with glee. She knew he couldn't see, at least with his tiny eyes, but his soul was already much bigger than his body.

"Sugar?" Oreena asked.

Shirley awoke to feel Oreena over her. She turned to see the coffeepot in the woman's hands.

"Please! Two!"

"Are you feeling better?" Mrs. Archer sipped her coffee peering over her cup.

"Yes, much better. Oreena that was a wonderful meal."

"It only gets better." Oreena sat and picked up her coffee cup.

The next few weeks were without disturbing visions. Shirley settled into a comfortable rhythm and was as happy as she could ever remember. Her job was the managing of Mrs. Archer's incredible wealth and she did it well. Some evenings were quite and spent playing cards with both Mrs. Archer and Oreena. Others evenings, after one fine meal after another, were a full of lively conversation or reading with subsequent interesting discussions. There was a radio and a television but in the whole time she had been living in the house neither was ever turned on. Shirley kept track of the doings in the world by Internet. When she asked about the TV, both women seemed surprised and told her she could watch television if she would like. It just wasn't something they thought to do. Oreena opened a cabinet inside was a flat large screen TV and hundreds of DVDs. Shirley got up and looked over the titles; great old movies from the thirties and forties were mixed in with newer titles. The library was a cinematic collection of the best films ever made.

"Why don't we have Friday night be movie night. Oreena I can't remember when we last watched a movie." Mrs. Archer suggested.

"I will create meals that a person would find in a fifties Diners. Cheeseburgers, French fries…"

"Chocolate malts!" Shirley excitedly added.

"…Chocolate malts and onion rings." Oreena smiled.

"Oh Dear, Mrs. Archer is that a diet you can eat?" Shirley turned with her hands to her mouth.

"My Dear at my age it doesn't matter. I'd rather enjoy the years I have left to me. That is why my sweet Oreena takes such care to provide such scrumptious feasts. Life can be sweet and it can be harsh. Yours has been unpleasant and we hope that your being with us will give you peace and a worthy life. Oreena? Let's watch a movie tonight. Do we have any of that Mexican chocolate with maybe even a little tequila? "Mrs. Archer winked at Shirley.

"Oh yes we do… what fun. I have a cinnamon and cream cheese pastry that will go well with dat drink. I'll prepare it. Shirley let us watch Rio Bravo. I love that darling and good-looking Dean Martin. Oooooooeeeeeee! I'll tell you some time of dat hot time him and me had in Paris. It was scandalous, Scandalous!"

Shirley smiled as she learned to do with her new friend. She turned to Mrs. Archer wondering at both of these women's need to please her, why they needed to be so kind..

"Mrs. Archer, please forgive my bluntness, I'm curious, there are brand new titles here." She reached in and pulled out a Disc that was a movie currently playing in theaters." This is still in the theaters."

"We haven't watched movies in a while only because we tired of it. I think we watched the first Matrix, how intriguing was that movie? That young actor was quite good in it don't you think? Although, for me, that bending backward thing was a bit much. I do understand that the Matrix wasn't real, special effects, you know. My what they can do!" She spoke rhetorically. "You've re-energized our interest. As for the new titles, I have a service that provides only good films to me. I also have the newest Willie Nelson CD, Tony Bennett, and a remix of 'Charlie Parker Plays It Cool.' I knew him, such talent and such a need to burn life up. I'm also fond of Smash Mouth, even though they sold themselves to the machine. The Royal Crown Revue is a gas. Don't gape, Dear, it's unattractive. I have a service that provides the house with the best films and recordings. I don't usually care for the violent films, but that Leslie Snipe rocks my boat. I wont even talk about Johnny Depp, what a cutie." Mrs. Archer wiggled in her chair causing Shirley to silently pray for her. An elderly woman should not act in such a lascivious manner.

"I am not dead yet my Dear. Put in the CD, by the time we figure out how to get it running, Oreena will be back."

Shirley put aside her concern, sipped the laced chocolate and ate the confection. She was content to watch John Wayne and the lost Dean Martin and slip away.

She was in a saloon having just arrived by stagecoach. She was told the only accommodations were in this place, here in a house of iniquity. She was to meet Thaddeus Larch her soon to be new husband. The Agency had lied most grievously about the civility of the town. It was a rough unkempt gray, dusty, beige and too hot. Little plant life could grow in such desolation. One sad tree adorned the small church she had seen coming in on the Coach. The men now in front of her were filthy barbarians and the women were of the same profession as was the blessed Mary Magdalene but clearly unrepentant in their sinful ways. She slammed her bags down and was immediately manhandled by a drunk saying that he reminded her of his sister. He pawed her bosom and attempted to raise her skirt. She struck him down with her umbrella and wondered, in shock, at the relationship of such siblings. He rose even more ardent than before. She pulled a gun from the holster of a cowhand, judging by his smell, which at that unlucky moment had passed by. She cocked the pistol and fired shooting her amorous assailant in the head. He slammed to the floor with a plume of blood spraying from the back of his head and was without a doubt dead. She stared in repulsed shock at what she, a refined woman, had done. The Sheriff soon arrived, taking her gun and assessing the scene. He asked for witnesses. The story was the same the woman came in and killed Thaddeus Larch, a gold prospector who had just recently struck it rich and had sent for a bride. The rest was a blur. She was tried by a Circuit Judge and found guilty. She was to be hanged. The whole town and the jury thought it was even worse a crime because it was her intended she killed. If she had been more patient and married him, then killed him for his brutish ways, she would be rich and not as now facing the gallows. She said nothing in her defense. The next thing she knew she had a noose around her neck and a black bag over her head. She heard the lever and the floor fell away.

She was again staring at John Wayne. Shaking and in a sweat.

"Close call, huh?" Oreena asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Shirley wheezed.

"They almost had him." Mrs. Archer sipped her Chocolate. Her eyes on the TV screen.

"If you will forgive me, I don't feel well. I'm going to retire."

"A hanging can take a lot out of you." Oreena said causing Shirley to start and stare at her.

"I'm making a joke. They should just shoot the guy or let the mob have him and be done with it. Not much of a movie then I guess."

"Oh I'm sorry I thought…" The thought trailed off in exhaustion and the glimmer of a horrible memory. She went upstairs and climbed on her bed. She curled up tight and wept.

Down stairs the two women finished the movie. Mrs. Archer rolled into the kitchen where Oreena was straightening up.

"Well my Dear. What do you think?" Mrs. Archer asked.

"Soon, very soon!"

Shirley rose early Saturday morning to do a little shopping at the mall. The Horton mall was a blaze of colors and impossible to navigate levels. The site maps were no help to her at all. She just allowed herself to wander and discover shops as they appeared to her. She found some treasures and eventually found the food courts on the top levels. A trendy Chinese restaurant caught her eye and lunch on Cantonese fare intrigued her. It was a food- type that, as far as she knew, Oreena did not see to prepare. The spark of lightening flew from a dark cloud with a roar and the air suddenly became misty and damp. She felt fear creep through her and she turned. The mall was empty except for the shadowy man standing darkly in an alcove next to the entry to the restaurant. He glided over to her as if he was floating. She was frozen with fear and a horrible sense of foreboding. The muttering was all around her. She screamed at him to make himself clear. The muttering became louder till it filled the whole of her world. It was too loud. Nothing else was allowed in. She could feel the anger and frustration in the garble of barely heard words and phrases. Shirley could take no more, she closed her eyes and she screamed for him to shut up. The dampness was gone. She opened her eyes, the man and the mist was gone. All was as it was, crowded and clear. The yell must have only been in her mind, no one in the mall even noticed her. Insanity was taking her over the only remedy she knew was the comfort of Mother Church.

She licked the last of the cinnamon roll off her fingers just as she stepped into the church office. A very unattractive woman greeted her and asked if she could help. Shirley was taken aback by the kindness of a voice coming from someone so denied even the smallest bit of delicacy. Then she shamefully acknowledged her sinful pride and thanked the women with as much sincerity as she could muster.

Father McNally was a kindly handsome man with a perpetual smile frozen to his charming face. Shirley felt comfortable sitting in front of the cleric.

"How can we help you?" he folded his hands in a priestly fashion on his desk and bent over in a very practiced way. All added to Shirley's ease.

"I don't know how to start." She blushed at the direction her thoughts were taking. He was, after all, handsome but her lurid musings were sinful. He was a Priest and sworn to celibacy.

"Are you a parishioner here at our church?"

"I have just moved, well not just-I would like to start attending…"

"Well let's get you some information." He hit a buzzer before Shirley could stop him. "I think I keep seeing a demon." Shirley wished she could take the words back as the Priests well-practiced face broke in astonishment.

"Sara never mind the packet." He watched every movement of Shirley's face. After a stint in a special Shirley purgatory he finally spoke. "Do you take drugs?"

"Heavens no!" Shirley lost interest and stood to leave.

"Please forgive me." He stood to take her hand gently and led her back to her seat. "I had to ask. Others come in claiming that they have seen angels, vampires, werewolves, devils, and Mother Marys all over the city. It is a beautiful city, that tries so hard, but it is a fraud. Most cities are; they are built on promises and hope; but are doomed before they even begin. I sometimes think that even if the angels, themselves, ran our cities it would be the same. The homeless, over eight-thousand in the last count, come here because of the weather. They don't count the children because they are invisible. We in the church believe there are five to six thousand children on the streets of this city. They are used badly, these children; liken to Sodom, a beautiful gem on the surface something quite different in the dark.  We have a mission down by the docks, run by a kind and hardworking Priest, but his like the boy with his finger in the dike. Please, forgive me, you are most welcome. Sit and tell me about it."

The Priest sat in the chair next to her. Shirley instinctively scooted her chair back a bit. The Priest noticed the paranoia.

"I came from back east and took a position here in town."

"How interesting I came from a Parish in Cleveland Ohio. I've been here for just a few months."

Shirley's eyes glazed over.

"I am not a crazy person. I consider myself quite sane and rational." She adjusted her skirt nervously. "This man, maybe not a man, has been stalking me."

"Why do you think he is a demon?" Father McNally put his hand on Shirley's thigh.

Shirley stood and left without responding. She was so angry she found herself spitting and cursing all the way home. She opened the front door and Oreena was standing right there with a spoonful of something that went right into Shirley's mouth. It was delicious and sucked the anger right out of her.

"Figured you needed something to take the shopping off you. No more though, the rest is for dinner."

"Thanks Oreena, I'm going upstairs to take a nap. I got some presents but you can't have them till later."

"Did I mention to you that the Priest down here at the Church is facing charges for sexual misconduct. Back east some place."

Shirley stopped short spinning on the stair. "What!"

"Nothing official yet." Oreena hollered from the kitchen.

Shirley stepped down off the stair landing and walked into the kitchen.

"Is it a coincidence that you two seem to be able to read my mind? Have I not one private thought? Some things should stay personal" Shirley barked.

"Why are you yelling?" Oreena was bent over looking into the oven where a pie was steaming away. Her bottom bounced to the beat of a reggae tune on the radio.

"I don't want to talk to your butt!" Shirley stomped her foot then felt foolish.

"Are you stomping your feet at me, Girl?" Oreena turned, stood and crossed her arms in anger.

"I am getting concerned about certain…" Shirley tried to appear righteous.

" Shirley I am sure you have thoughts that are disturbing to you. But why are you projecting on our dear employer and myself? Have we been anything but kind to you? Have you ever been healthier? Look at you…you have filled out, you even have a great rack and a butt as fine as my own. I'll tell you mine has got me into more fun than…"

"What is going on here? I am trying to read. What is this talk of butts?" Mrs. Archer wheeled in smiling.

"It seems that Shirley is not satisfied with her breasts and fine pert ass."

"I beg your pardon. That was not what…" Shirley sputtered

.

"My Dear, what is wrong with your body. I would love to be as young and attractive as you are. Oreena has filled in your frame with fabulous curves." Mrs. Archer patted Shirley's bottom. Shirley jumped and blushed.

"Mrs. Archer! That is not what…"

"Well you look wonderful; and you are doing a great job. Oreena, what's for dinner?"

"Wheel yourself back to the parlor. This is my domain. You are the boss but not in here. When you are disappointed in what I serve then I will leave and you can cook your own meals!"

Oreena shoved Shirley out and Mrs. Archer wheeled out laughing. "Oreena, you are a tyrant!"

Shirley screamed in frustration and ran out the front door.

She ran out into the dark except for gas lamps burning on a corner to the right. The road was cobblestone and wet with a fine rain. Buildings were tall on all sides of the narrow street. She turned to go back into the house. It wasn't there. In its place a raucous tavern that cast a welcoming fan of golden light on the narrow dark street. She looked down on herself and admired the black silk hooped dress that swayed and swished as she moved. She felt shamefully free, under her dress was a lack of under garments and appropriate foundation. It titillated her to be walking here dressed as if she was a wanton. What would the good Queen Mother say, to her, if she knew? She saw the umbrella and leaned to pick it up. Confusion overcame her. Why was she in such a dreary and disreputable place?

A horse drawn carriage rolled up behind her, the door opened and a low voice called her name."Cynthia, will you please get in? You know this a perilous obsession."

"I would like to see where it happened." She put the umbrella up over her wet hair. She must look a fright. "Will you walk with me Edward or not?"

"I will not! I have been indulgent and you must admit reasonable to the peril in this dark fascination of yours. The monster did indeed kill the trollops in this area and I think that your curiosity must surely be satisfied."

"Did he stab them in their abdomen first or slit their throats first?" She swirled around at the open carriage door and cooed.

"'ey Gov, yer lookin' for a hump n squirt are ye?"

"Dear Lord, Cynthia, Enough! I must demand that you get in the carriage. Your father will have me arrested if he knew for a moment that I even brought you here."

"You didn't mind my dirty little games a while ago, did you? You are quite at your best when playing my little games?" Cynthia said looking coyly over her shoulder. "Keep my father out of it. He's a prig. I have come to believe that my poor mother died with only two minutes of passion in the whole of her marriage; no wonder she despised me."

The carriage followed Cynthia has she strolled down the dark street twirling her umbrella. Suddenly two men ran out of the shadows, one jumped into the carriage, putting a pistol in Edward's face, demanding money. The second caught Cynthia, wrapping his arms around her. He whispered that she had a fine pair of pillows and that he would see them full before the night was through. He thrust his hips into Cynthia's barely covered bottom. A shot fired behind her, then a second, a scream, and the driver-less carriage rode by led by terrified horses. Cynthia knew she had reached that place she shamefully longed for. She was standing on the rim of hell. She had hoped that it would be the Ripper she would have met. Her lurid and dark imaginings would have it that he would recognize her as a Lady and would stay his Royal hand. Her reckless fantasy was dissipating in horror. No one would come to her aid and she would foolishly die in the most terrible of ways. Her dear Edward was gone, as was her salvation.

"Kill me if you will gentlemen. Please do no worst. My father will pay any ransom." Cynthia spoke with a quite and calm voice in spite of her fear.

"My Dear, we have plenty, thanks to your now deceased but well healed young man." A fetid breath came upon her. "We will give you back to your Father only slightly ruffled. Me brother and me would only have what Edward already enjoyed, as we heard earlier, parked in that fine carriage. We knows you, me fine Lady, come down here to the filthy byways of us lowborn and give it a sloppy try where it gives you, a proper Lady, a naughty tickle. If you like it naughty, me and my brother will give you naughty for your fill"

Cynthia heard a terrible laugh behind her.

"Fill it we will, Brother! Fill it we will."

She felt hands around her throat and swooned. When she awoke she was lying on a filthy bed and was completely naked. Her wrists were bound and tied to a ring on the wall behind her. Her legs were spread and her ankles lashed to the footboard. Her throat was sore and she coughed, in a dry hacking bark, causing her head to pound.

"Well now! Look who's awake?" Both men stared down on her with toothless grins." We relieved your Ladyship of her togs; it was easy enough for the little there was. You are, after all, a proper tart aren't you? The counting of our spoils and a meal was more important to us than ruinin' your Ladyship's good name. We all knows the truth there, now don't we? Your recently departed playmate 'as been in and about where the Lord says..'" Both men take off their hats and put them over their hearts in mock ceremony."...thou shouldn't play- in certain ways- unless you pays-upfront for the lay- or after white you wears on your wedding day. Amen." The men put their hats back on   We haven't had our bit of play, as of yet! All things in their proper time, I always says."

The brother spit. "He always says that, he does, and a proper rhymer he is, too boot"

"But we enjoyed the looking and the pawin' on your body. It was no wonder his Lordship was groaning and grunting on you. We were sourly tempted to put patience aside. Does that surprise you that we wastrels could control our nasty urges, unlike you me Lady?"

She said nothing. She was beyond hope. The second brother walked over from the table, stripped and climbed on her." Enough waiting for the likes of me."

She screamed!

Shirley screamed into the San Diego night and passed out. The fog covered her like a blanket. The shadowy man came over and picked her up in his arms.

Shirley wasn't Shirley anymore. She was Evelyn Amsted  and she had been raped by her Priest and was alone in the night, dying, in a downtown Cleveland alley. She saw a man walking through the fog. She tried to call for help but she couldn't. Her world was pain, horror, betrayal and outrage. The man walked up to her and stared down at her nude shattered and bloodied body. Her mind screamed and jumped into him.

The man walked up to the door and it opened. Oreena let the man in. He bent down and placed Shirley on the sofa in the sitting room. Mrs. Archer did not move.

"Goland, why have you waited this long?" Oreena took his overcoat.

The man was not a man at all. His face was not human; it had no hair on his greenish head, two holes for a nose, no ears, and a lip-less mouth. He, if he was male, sat on a chair next to Mrs. Archer who still sat perfectly still, as if asleep with her eyes open, not looking at her visitor.

"Mrs. Archer, Goland is here." Oreena fretted over Shirley.

"Mr. Goland it is good to see you." Mrs. Archer came alive and wheeled her chair around to look into Goland's face." You don't look good, too pale. Have you been eating well? Oreena do you have anything that will suit an Anterian diet?"

"I have some Tarash and Jemeee." Oreena offered, bowing her head.

Their guest mumbled and returned the bow. He turned to Mrs. Archer and murmured in a low hum, putting his hands together in a praying manner.

"That was kind of you to dispatch that  monster in cleric garb. I'm sorry it took so long to find out if the time permutations would allow the Priests termination. This is such an unusual case. We are still working on your problem. I know you suffer. Please be patient." Mrs. Archer looked at Shirley. "We'll see when she wakes whether we can set this straight."

Oreena came in with a large Anterian ceremonial bowl. The man's eyes watered and he bowed in his chair. He stood and sat on the floor. Oreena set the bowl on the table then laid down a cloth marked with symbols on the floor in front of Goland. She then put the bowl on the cloth. She turned to the mantle and lit a candle and placed it on one edge of the cloth. Mrs. Archer reached over and turned off the light. The Anterian ate slowly and sang between each bite. The two women sat and patiently waited mesmerized by the beauty of the singing. When he was through, Oreena broke the bowl in four pieces, wrapped the pieces in the cloth and carried it all out of the room. When she returned The Anterian was sitting on the chair, the candle was put up and the lights were on again.

Shirley stirred and opened her eyes and started at seeing the Anterian.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Goland. I thought you were a human. I reacted out of fear. Had I known, I would never have done such a despicable deed." She looked at Oreena and Mrs. Archer." Damn, a healer/cleaner and a Quatadroid, I'm in a mess."

"Yes, you have made a mess. The woman you entered, Evelyn, was supposed to die much earlier and not by that monstrous Priest. You should have got out long before you did. You sustained her longer than her time. What were you thinking? A paradox was most certainly created but luckily it changed little. Did you think you could save her?" Oreena scolded.

"Yes!"

"The rules are very specific. We are allowed to come back through the veils of time to feel the sensations. Emotional ties are dangerous but it does happen. If it does you are to die with your host. That’s the rules and it's written in stone." Mrs. Archer droned.

"I know. But it was more horrible than you could have imagined." Shirley began to cry.

"Push Shirley back, but her to sleep. You have done enough damage. We have done much to make this poor girl well and we will not have you destroy her for your selfishness." Oreena pleaded for the girl she had befriended.

"Done. She will think it all a dream. I lost control due to the trauma and jumped into Goland. The poor thing had two of us in him, poor Evelyn and myself. When I could I jumped an attempted an integration with Shirley. But she remembered the whole affair as her own. I disengaged from my previous host, Evelyn and let her die. Shirley would not let the memory of the event go; it suited a pre-existing condition. The poor girl was ill and again I made a horrible error. Oreena, you were brilliant in the way you healed us. Those colorful memories all yours, from previous time jumps?"

"I didn't give you both the good ones. You couldn't handle it. And by the way, I do cook Chinese brilliantly. It would have had you break through to soon."

Mrs. Archer buzzed a warning that she was going to speak the rule and lore. Quatadroids were made in the time stream in which they lived and where judge and jury on all time violations.

"Humans evolved into non-corporeal beings in the year 6456 AD. It took three thousand years to become bored with a live without sensory input. And the live webs began to fade and dissipate in many souls. So it was that we sent ourselves back into the past so that we may share experiences with our hosts and gain strength. Strong personalities threw us out or medicated us senseless thinking us demons. We then choose those who were weaker, hanging closely to death or those who we knew would be killed. We are allowed a three-year visit and then must go home. You were to report to a regional Quatadroid and be sent back. We were forced to send back a cleaner/healer at considerable energy expense. Oreena is to old to travel but she was the most qualified."

"Never mind, I enjoyed cooking again. My host is brilliant." Oreena laughed. "I'm no worse for the wear. I however must stay in this body until the old dear passes away. I can't go home."

"I did a terrible thing. Just before death I transferred into the closest human near me. I didn't know it was an Anterian- Priest Class. I defiled him. He knows all of human history intimately, he knows we are not to be defeated by the Anterians. He has shared a soul with an enemy and that is taboo. Even if he could save billions of lives, he can not be heard. His superiors would smell the taint on his thoughts. I also know five thousand years of Anterian secrets and their agenda of which I can do nothing to save any of their lives. I jumped to Shirley as soon as I could. Poor Goland has been following me for ten years, carrying human memories, insane and desperate for a solution. We all know there is but one solution. It is a disaster. He is polluted and outcast I am a criminal and a risk. You, Oreena, gave an honorable death meal to Goland so that he may join his ancestors with pride. What will you do for me?"

"You will just dissipate and believe, like Shirley, that there is a heaven waiting for you. She is saved, so I guess you are as well. You will leave her with us and she will live a good and fulfilled live." Oreena answered.

"Fair enough. At least it is tidied up. Shirley lay down and closed her eyes.

Mrs. Archer put her hands in front of her and a swirling blue light emanated from the palms of her hands and a reddish light lifted from Shirley and slowly gave way to the blue light. Goland sang a beautiful song about the gift of life and its uncertain choices. He too bent over and expired.

The next morning Shirley ran downstairs in a glorious mood, remembering nothing. She ran into the kitchen.

"Oreena, I'm starving. What's for breakfast?"

"Blintzes, sausage, and fresh fruit."

"Do I have time for a short run?"

"Give me an hour, darling girl. Did I ever tell you the thing I had with Dean?"

"Dean Martin?" Shirley asked.

"No! James Dean."

"Cool, tell me all the nasty details when I get back!"

Mrs. Archer rolled into the kitchen. "What about James Dean?"

"Oreena is going to tell us about a scandalous affair with James Dean."

"Oh good. I like the juicy ones. Have a nice run sweetheart!"

Shirley waved and was out the door.

End