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Description
      Sitting by the pond, Elysia's naked form shook in the cold wisps of the night wind. Ducks sputtered and plunked the surface of the pond's restlessly molten black and moon white glass. High above trails of the previous days thunderstorm crept by the deep bluish glow of the moon, dully illuminating the still damp grass and slimy cobblestone walkways that wrapped the pond into a circular labyrinth at the park's center. The first time she sat prone, alone, and naked at the water's edge she was terrified, shaking uncontrollably and barely able to crawl for cover. Now she shook, but only from the cold and wet around her in the damp night air.

      She rubbed her hands down her sides and looked afar at the payphone kiosk, glowing under the buzz of the blue emergency light at park's end. Currently a police cruiser sat by it, the faint embers of a cigarette bobbing up and down and a hint of grey emanating from the half open windows. Someone was sitting and talking, laughing, and having a very good time. When the wind hit just right, Elysia could hear some of the conversation, smell the sickly bitter hint of cheap coffee and tobacco. Last Tuesday the conversation drifted into shooting down stray animals off rooftops from the police chopper, sweetened with the smells of liquor and a bit too much sugar. Tonight it was brandy and chocolate glazed krullers over a domestic violence report that turned up a ring of illegal medical porn filmmakers. The conversation's trailing guilty chuckles faded into casual whistling as the police gazed across the park bored, tired, and oblivious to Elysia. This time, as the many before it, it was just fine with her. What would dad think as he opened the door to me and the cops?

      A streak of sticky black blood marred the paleness of her knee's. Small slits and scratches peppered her legs. She touched a finger to the mess, felt the warm sting of the open wounds, and winced as she realized the back of her calf was wet, warm, and almost numb with pain. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she slowly reached a careful fingertip into the wound and tried to determine how bad it was. The gash felt about an inch wide at it's worst, ragged at it's edges and felt tingly as her light touch danced it's perimeter. She swallowed hard, braced her other hand to her thigh and clamped down, her fingernails aching as they bore into her skin. Her pointer finger vanished into the gash, one inch. Two inches. She paused, breathed out the hot tight air still in her and sucked in the cold night, then pushed deeper into the gash. When she finally felt resistance, she exhaled quickly and felt a sickly shift within her stomach begin to hurtle itself up her torso. She supposed the touch of wet bloody muscle, soft flesh, fatty tissue or possibly just a cluster of veins or bloody gore would have been somewhat welcome. Feeling the warm flat shape of her bone sent a panic into her body she had not felt since her first bit of traveling. Her body shook, her dry throat, ragged and hollow from her ever quickening breathing, was quickly quenched with her own sickness, the soft bending light of the lake and the moon quickly a miasma of fluid tears. She burst into a violent wail, crying, screaming, and grabbed at the sides of the wound to make every effort to pull it closed like so many heavy drapes across their home. Her skin felt tight in the cold air, and the sides of the wound barely seemed to touch as she held it closed, enough room for a pencil to slide into the gap effortlessly. This did little more then burst the clotted skin that had begun to cover the insides of the open wound, gushing chunky black thick blood down her ankles and splattering the grass. Small trickling rivulets stretched their spaghetti fingers down the embankment into the cool waters of the pond.

      A duck swam by and it's light grey feathers turned dark, sodden red in the moonlight. It flapped to the shore to her left a few yards away and began preening itself, flickering blood and pond grass out from between it's feathers and slicking itself down. Elysia watched it and tried not to think about the pain. I need to get to the phone, but not let the police see me.

      Elysia knew the only way to do this was to slide back into the shadows. There was another phone farther down the parkside, covered in shadow and tree, well outside the view of the police cruiser. She had used it the last time to call her brother. Again she would have to use it, quickly, then hide and pray he could get there and get her home.

      Releasing her grip on her leg, she balled herself tight, tucking her chin into her knees and stared out across the water, letting her eyes blur ever so slightly as they focused on the shadowed pines across the way, and waited. The sound of the water echoed deep within her, the undulating ripples from the ducks sliding across her like so many silken layers of cloth. The winds howled across her form as if the tornadoes wracked against the twisting cliffs, cold, relentless, forceful. She ceased to move. Ceased to waiver. Then it all fell silent.

      The sky flickered and then dulled, everything slowing down a bit as the molten black of the night began bleeding around her in wet inky pools. The darkness was there. It was time.

      She stood, slowly, placing her weight on her good leg, and began a slow walk towards the ponds edge. Touching her toes into the darkens places in the water, she submerged herself and felt the squirming writhing darkness surround her, the onyx grubs that lay at the edge of her world gave way to the green grey twilight of the other side, and suddenly she was standing in a similar park, but with very different foliage. On this side of reality her body was negligible, lithe and far less corporeal then on earth, and she slid across the expanse of the ponds surface, the grass, hills, and walkways to a stump she knew was where the phone lay on her earthen side. Looking back, just before she was to step back, she froze. On the other side of the grassy clearing stoop a man. Human, sickly, and suspended over the ground as if laying on a bed or a mattress, he looked back at her, surprised. She smiled, raised a hand in greeting, and before she could speak or turn to face him, he was gone. She waited, looked around, then stepped back into the darkness and dropped forward, catching herself on the kiosk's shelving as her weakened body returned to her and gave under the weight of earthen gravity. She grasped the phone receiver before tucking into herself and hitting the ground. Her brother's voice clicked on moments later. She knew she wanted to dial him, but had she?

      "Ellie! Where are you! Are you at the park again? "

      Yes. I am at the park. By the phone booth just like last time. I am hurt. I need medical Attention. But don't bring dad. Don't tell the authorities. The police are here. You can't be seen!

      Ellie! Wait for me!

Description
      Sitting by the pond, Elysia's naked form shook in the cold wisps of the night wind. Ducks sputtered and plunked the surface of the pond's restlessly molten black and moon white glass. High above trails of the previous days thunderstorm crept by the deep bluish glow of the moon, dully illuminating the still damp grass and slimy cobblestone walkways that wrapped the pond into a circular labyrinth at the park's center. The first time she sat prone, alone, and naked at the water's edge she was terrified, shaking uncontrollably and barely able to crawl for cover. Now she shook, but only from the cold and wet around her in the damp night air.

      She rubbed her hands down her sides and looked afar at the payphone kiosk, glowing under the buzz of the blue emergency light at park's end. Currently a police cruiser sat by it, the faint embers of a cigarette bobbing up and down and a hint of grey emanating from the half open windows. Someone was sitting and talking, laughing, and having a very good time. When the wind hit just right, Elysia could hear some of the conversation, smell the sickly bitter hint of cheap coffee and tobacco. Last Tuesday the conversation drifted into shooting down stray animals off rooftops from the police chopper, sweetened with the smells of liquor and a bit too much sugar. Tonight it was brandy and chocolate glazed krullers over a domestic violence report that turned up a ring of illegal medical porn filmmakers. The conversation's trailing guilty chuckles faded into casual whistling as the police gazed across the park bored, tired, and oblivious to Elysia. This time, as the many before it, it was just fine with her. What would dad think as he opened the door to me and the cops?

      A streak of sticky black blood marred the paleness of her knee's. Small slits and scratches peppered her legs. She touched a finger to the mess, felt the warm sting of the open wounds, and winced as she realized the back of her calf was wet, warm, and almost numb with pain. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, she slowly reached a careful fingertip into the wound and tried to determine how bad it was. The gash felt about an inch wide at it's worst, ragged at it's edges and felt tingly as her light touch danced it's perimeter. She swallowed hard, braced her other hand to her thigh and clamped down, her fingernails aching as they bore into her skin. Her pointer finger vanished into the gash, one inch. Two inches. She paused, breathed out the hot tight air still in her and sucked in the cold night, then pushed deeper into the gash. When she finally felt resistance, she exhaled quickly and felt a sickly shift within her stomach begin to hurtle itself up her torso. She supposed the touch of wet bloody muscle, soft flesh, fatty tissue or possibly just a cluster of veins or bloody gore would have been somewhat welcome. Feeling the warm flat shape of her bone sent a panic into her body she had not felt since her first bit of traveling. Her body shook, her dry throat, ragged and hollow from her ever quickening breathing, was quickly quenched with her own sickness, the soft bending light of the lake and the moon quickly a miasma of fluid tears. She burst into a violent wail, crying, screaming, and grabbed at the sides of the wound to make every effort to pull it closed like so many heavy drapes across their home. Her skin felt tight in the cold air, and the sides of the wound barely seemed to touch as she held it closed, enough room for a pencil to slide into the gap effortlessly. This did little more then burst the clotted skin that had begun to cover the insides of the open wound, gushing chunky black thick blood down her ankles and splattering the grass. Small trickling rivulets stretched their spaghetti fingers down the embankment into the cool waters of the pond.

      A duck swam by and it's light grey feathers turned dark, sodden red in the moonlight. It flapped to the shore to her left a few yards away and began preening itself, flickering blood and pond grass out from between it's feathers and slicking itself down. Elysia watched it and tried not to think about the pain. I need to get to the phone, but not let the police see me.

      Elysia knew the only way to do this was to slide back into the shadows. There was another phone farther down the parkside, covered in shadow and tree, well outside the view of the police cruiser. She had used it the last time to call her brother. Again she would have to use it, quickly, then hide and pray he could get there and get her home.

      Releasing her grip on her leg, she balled herself tight, tucking her chin into her knees and stared out across the water, letting her eyes blur ever so slightly as they focused on the shadowed pines across the way, and waited. The sound of the water echoed deep within her, the undulating ripples from the ducks sliding across her like so many silken layers of cloth. The winds howled across her form as if the tornadoes wracked against the twisting cliffs, cold, relentless, forceful. She ceased to move. Ceased to waiver. Then it all fell silent.

      The sky flickered and then dulled, everything slowing down a bit as the molten black of the night began bleeding around her in wet inky pools. The darkness was there. It was time.

      She stood, slowly, placing her weight on her good leg, and began a slow walk towards the ponds edge. Touching her toes into the darkens places in the water, she submerged herself and felt the squirming writhing darkness surround her, the onyx grubs that lay at the edge of her world gave way to the green grey twilight of the other side, and suddenly she was standing in a similar park, but with very different foliage. On this side of reality her body was negligible, lithe and far less corporeal then on earth, and she slid across the expanse of the ponds surface, the grass, hills, and walkways to a stump she knew was where the phone lay on her earthen side. Looking back, just before she was to step back, she froze. On the other side of the grassy clearing stoop a man. Human, sickly, and suspended over the ground as if laying on a bed or a mattress, he looked back at her, surprised. She smiled, raised a hand in greeting, and before she could speak or turn to face him, he was gone. She waited, looked around, then stepped back into the darkness and dropped forward, catching herself on the kiosk's shelving as her weakened body returned to her and gave under the weight of earthen gravity. She grasped the phone receiver before tucking into herself and hitting the ground. Her brother's voice clicked on moments later. She knew she wanted to dial him, but had she?

      "Ellie! Where are you! Are you at the park again? "

      Yes. I am at the park. By the phone booth just like last time. I am hurt. I need medical Attention. But don't bring dad. Don't tell the authorities. The police are here. You can't be seen!

      Ellie! Wait for me!