Anthology Two Presents

Talisman
"Sweet Dreams"
By Matthew Cavazos

    A beam of intense light parted the darkness from the forest clearing and struck the invincible hide of the rock creature. A hush came over the battleground as the metallic insect towered over the prone form of the near human shaped creature. The insect's gleaming pinchers hovered above their target, clicking and clacking, ready to bury themselves deep inside the rocky hide and rend the beast to chunks of hard earth and rubble.

    Suddenly a screech broke the silence and a fire, of a queer shade of green, encircled the fallen rock creature. All the while, beneath a blanket of storm clouds soared the dragon in all of it's fierce yet supernatural beauty.

    Two hooded figures emerged from the tree line surrounding the battlefield. The largest of the two, though dwarfed by the sheer size of the battling creatures, stepped out onto the scorched field and commanded the creatures to stop with a simple hand gesture.

    A deep male voice issued from beyond the hood of the larger figure, "Richmond, what was wrong with that battle?"

    The much smaller figure spoke with the sweetness of a girl in the prime of youth, "The beetle, uhm, I mean the Gold Scarab was invisible when it attacked the Golem. So the Scarab had an unfair advantage over the Stone Golem."

    "Incorrect, once again Richmond. The Emerald Dragon did not let the Scarab have it's final strike."

    "But Master the Golem would surely not have survived the attack!"

    "Hush girl, it is not a matter of life and death with these -- tools. They are magic. Therefore they cannot die. The golem would have simply reverted back to it's original state. Then while the scarab's attention was divided the dragon would have made her own finishing strike on the scarab winning the match, having dispatched the Griffin. Its as simple as that."

    "Master, I..."

    "I SAID it was as simple as that."

    "But I didn't train the creatures to risk one another in battle or even in tournament stakes."

    "Well then they best learn or you will never reach the next step in your mastery of the cosmic forces."

    "But they're--"

    Her master walked back into the unmoving ranks of the darkened forest's tree line.

    "--my friends."

    Left alone with the Emerald Dragon and Stone Golem, Richmond walked over to each combatant and whispered the incantation that made each revert to their small, handheld statuette form.

***

    The storm clouds, with their carefully orchestrated concert of thunder and lightning, reached a crescendo as if to announce the sheets of rain wetting all that was in reach.

    She clutched the box to tightly to her chest as the rain poured over her. The Golem and Dragon, once larger than life now little bigger than a closed fist, laid nestled inside their velvet lined container.

    "I can't let you two get hurt anymore."

    The box and it's contents remained silent.

    "And I do not care what Master Sorens says, you two are more than just magical tools."

    Still, the young apprentice received no response.

    "But I have to let you both go someplace no one can find you. Not today. Not in a millennia. Not EVER."

    A thought crept across her mind as an audible sob echoed throughout the forested area. Richmond raced through the forest with an amazing speed. Her chanting was imperceptible as her blurred form sped across the countryside.

    Moments passed before the thought of stopping her break neck pace crossed her mind when the feeling of earth below her feet was absent.

    Violent winds rushed past her small frame as it hung poised barely inches above the surface of the vast ocean. A sob rose up her throat as the wind's invisible urgings seemed to carry the box out of her petite hands and into the dark expanse of water.

    The waves greedily lapped against the sides of the ornate wooden box as it sank into the unknown depths. Yet the contents within were held safe from the machinations of the ocean's destructive nature involving all things precious and lost.

    The midday sun along with a slight breeze made today a rather cheery date to be out and about. The winding streets of Pacific City were alive with the coming and going traffic of both vehicular and foot. Crowds of shoppers and select tourists milled about the various shops lining the older sections of the city's ever expanding business district.

    One set of shoppers in particular picked there across the cracked sidewalks and through the bustling crowds with little effort.

    "SHEEEEEEE-LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

    A young girl, no older than twelve, spun around to face her excited caller. Her nose crinkling in mock disgust as a sandy haired boy, half her age, decked out in a green and white Scooby-Doo T-Shirt caught up to her.

    "What is it this time, Michael?", she spoke while scratching a dry patch of skin under one of the thin straps of her white spaghetti strap top.

    "SHEEEEEEE-LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

    "MIKEY, STOP YELLING!"

    Passersby began gawking at the young duo. Sheila was not one to bask in any form of attention but little Michael craved it as would any child at his age. She had to act fast.

    "Sheila, Sheila, Sheila, Sheila, Sheila, Sh--"

    Her left hand immediately flew up to cover her cousin's rapid fire spewing of her name.

    "Shhhhhhhhh... quiet down you or I won't let you go into the--"

    Michael shook his mouth free of her hand and completed her sentence, "Kar-lee-oh Shop?"

    "It's called a Curio Shop, Mikey."

    The child took a step back and lifted a single eyebrow questioning his older relative.

    "Ya know, Curio like in the word 'curiosity'?"

    With eyes squeezed tightly shut, the small boy thought for a moment before issuing his replying.

    "I don't wanna go in there."

    "Why not?"

    "'Cause that's where they kill kitties", the six year old said matter of factly.

    "No Michael, you're thinking of 'curiosity killed the cat', that's just a figure of speech... I mean, something... uh... old people say when they're trying to teach you something stupid or boring. A Curio Shop is a little store that has really special stuff you can buy that you can't find anywhere else."

    "Like a toy store!?!", his face lit up at the prospect of his own conclusion.

    "Not like a toy store. This place has way cooler things you can get than that crap they have at--"

    "Aw, I'm telling! You said the 'C'-word."

    "Crap is not a bad word, Mikey. That Darling lady on TV says it on her show and Aunt Nicki lets you stay up to watch that."

    The scrawny six year old let loose his next to the last defense, one of the most annoying sounds in the world.

    "La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la...!"

    "Stop, stop, STOP! I'm SORRY, okay? I apologize for say cr-- the 'C' word. So lets go see that shop and maybe we'll stop at McDonald's for a little something before we go home."

    Nodding cheerfully the hyperactive, pint-sized nightmare accepted Sheila's apology, and bribe, as they continued down the line of storefronts.

    The basement's light bulb swung back and forth almost keeping time to the systematic kidney punches being delivered to Alessandro Foster's frail form. The sixty five year old was held upright by a set of handcuffs looped over a long pipe that ran the length of the household's basement.

    All the while a menacing man, standing a full 6 foot and 7 inches, clad in what most would take for a black leather bondage gimp suit, stood mere inches from the disheveled figure. Also within the confines of the subterranean storage a rather short gentlemen who, some odd reason, was decked out in full Texan-Cliché regalia leaned back against a set of wooden packing crates and watched the restrained assault take place.

    "C'mon Bryce", the Texan urged "der's only so much the old man's kidneys can take 'fore he starts spittin' 'em up."

    The leather garbed, hulking individual pulled open the mouth zipper to his black, silver studded mask and spoke.

    "Mr. Arkana", Bryce began.

    "Tex."

    "MISTER Arkana, do not tell me how to go about my business. You hired me to extract the location of the item you seek for your employer and I am doing the utmost to create a most suitable atmosphere in which Mr. Foster will reveal the exact details you require. And if that means I liquefy his internal organs in the process than, Mr. Arkana, so be it."

    "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Bryce, ya don' hafta go on like that I jus' thought it woulda been best if Foster didn't look like someone beat the tarnation out of 'im."

    Bryce's bulging muscles combined with his suit made every known sound associated with skintight leather as he promptly ignored Tex's advice and turned his attention back on the old shopkeeper.

    "Now, Mr. Foster, where -- is -- the -- BOX!"

    Bryce let loose another crushing blow to Foster's lower back, causing Tex Arkana to cringe as the old man howled in agony.

    "If you do not reveal to me the location of said box, within the next three minutes, your fate will not be as comparable as to the one I have designed for your granddaughter. Ms. Foster and I will spend innumerable hours  exploring the thresholds of both pain... and pleasure."

    Tex slid off the crates with an air of practiced nonchalance and stepped over to Foster's slumped body. The out of place Texan took the grandfather's head in both of his hands, and looked him dead in the eyes.

    "Listen up ya ol' coot better believe the big lug 'cause he don't aim to take her square dancin'. Now give up the box or she won't be able ta sit her pretty lil' behind down on that stool behind the counter o' your shop for a long while."

    Foster, to worn and impotent to do much else, whimpered at the thought.

    "Okay, lets get this straight Michael", Sheila began with her fists resting on the hips of her red shorts, "We're going inside the shop for a just little bit and I don't want you messing with anything that looks breakable, okay?"

    The terror in Scooby Doo Underoos took on an innocent expression before agreeing and then dashing into 'Foster's Antiquities and Specialty Items'.

    "Oh boy", Sheila Torrance sighed as she swung open the entrance to the quiet little store.

    A wooden chime whistled a few notes before the door shut behind her. Sheila's eyes switched back and forth searching over the free standing displays and the shelves that lined the faded white washed walls; the items became increasing older, fragile, and exotic as she made her way to the back counter.

    Mr. Foster didn't approve of children being left unattended in his store, thus Sheila rarely visited the store in his presence, but a week back she got the gumption to see if any new items came in, particularly any figurines. Slipping into the store for a quick perusal of his new stock allowed the young girl a glimpse into the back of the secluded shop.

    Sheila was privy to a very animated conversation between Mr. Foster and the delivery man. Apparently Foster's shipment had been tampered with and he was missing a set or part of a set of something. Something old and very valuable. The girl had taken off in a hurry when the delivery man stomped off to his truck and bumped into her, making Sheila squeal with fright.

    But today, she had the safety of knowing she'd be free to browse the store at her leisure. Well that and the fact she carried a hundred and fifty dollars in bills of various denominations for the sole purpose of purchasing a new addition for her 'collection'.

    Almost shivering in the sheer giddiness she spotted her young cousin busily interrogating Liz, who was not only a college freshmen and worked the counter at Mr. Foster's store on weekends, but she also happened to be the closest thing Sheila had to a best friend.

    Or at least she liked to believe so.

    "It appears my task is complete", Bryce remarked in his proper monotone voice as he wiped the sweat and dust off onto the sleeve of Foster's under shirt, "let us depart for the shop."

    "Hold on one dang-blast minute there. We gots ta make sure he don' remember what went down here lest we get our own asses in a sling over this with da boss."

    "Lest?"

    *Pause*

    "Jus' lemme do my thing."

    Tex removed his authentic ten gallon cowboy hat and began fishing through the carefully woven medicine bag slung over his shoulder, his fingers blindly searching for the exact items needed for the task at hand.

    "Well then Mr. Arkana you had best get on with your... I dare say, ritual, or this whole debacle will be prolonged and at you're employer's expense, no doubt."

    "Jesus H, man! Give me a few ta get my mojo workin'. I'm not Houdini or that Blaine asshole on the DVD."

    As Bryce's partner-in-tempor, Mr. Arkana, danced about the room sprinkling small amounts of colored sands on the basement floor around the bedraggled body of the elderly shopkeeper, he tugged at his suits' neck zipper to let the air in for a bit.

    Performing these beatings sans evident marks or bruising always took a lot out of him. The amount of concentration in timing and delivering each blow accordingly drained him mentally and physically. And as Tex began chanting seemingly random guttural sounds, that ran more along the lines of Klingon than any Native American tongue, he knew this was just the very beginning of an even longer day.

    Michael had spent the last ten minutes performing his own version of Twenty Questions with Liz as Sheila perused through a small collection of crystalline assortment of animals that were spread out on the counter top. He had exhausted all questions concerning favorite foods and TV shows and Sheila inwardly cringed as he began a whole new deluge of inquires.

    "Okay so are you married?"

    "MICHAEL!"

    Liz turned to Sheila and waved her away, "No, it's okay Sheila. Don't get mad at him he can ask, and the answer is no."

    Sheila glared at the six year old before going back to admiring a particularly large crystal duck she had in her hands a moment ago.

    "Do you have a finance?", Michael continued.

    "A finance? Oh, you mean fiancé?"

    Liz toyed with a loose strand of strikingly scarlet colored hair as if the answer to the child's question took some seriously deep thought, "No, as a matter of fact I don't."

    "A friend-boy?"

    "No boyfriend either, sad to say."

    "But you're pretty."

    "Well aren't you a little charmer?"

    "And Sonny says pretty girls put out. And if a girl puts out they proly have A LOT of friend-boys."

    *GASP*

    "MICHAEL! Oh god, I'm so sorry Liz, I didn't expect him to say anything like that or I wouldn't have brought him with me. Oh my god, I'm so -- so sorry."

    The nineteen year old redhead sat there for a moment, with a stoic pose, before breaking into an odd combination of snorts and giggles.

    "It seems you're quite the informed young man."

    "Oh yeah, Sonny teaches me a lot of things. Like how to make planes out of paper and -- and how to cheat at poker."

    "He taught you all that?"

    "Uh huh."

    "Well it looks like you're off to a great start", Liz spoke as she lifted the kid up and sat him next to her on the counter.

    "Hey Liz did the shop get any new stuff that hasn't been put out yet?"

    "Oh... uhm... lemme check, Sheila. I think Poppie got a crate of some figures you might wanna take a look at."

    "Poppie?"

    "If you want me to check for that new stuff... you better lay off my Poppie's nickname."

    "Done and done, and I mean done", Sheila said with an idiotic grin plastered across her face.

    Tex's chanting came to a sudden stop.

    "Finally", Bryce sighed as he refastened the zippers and snaps to his shiny, ebony mask.

    Tex Arkana took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow.

    He then continued to dance around Alessandro Foster's body with a renewed vigor that surpassed the previous ten minutes worth of similar prancing about and random throaty syllables.

    The huge leather clad figure groaned, muttered a few coarse words, and then slumped against one of the grime covered basement walls.

    She clutched the wooden box to her chest all the while Michael bounced around her demanding over and over and over to get a peek at the contents. They were about to round the corner of the block when Sheila's face blushed red, her patience whittled away by Michael's antics within Mr. Foster's curio shop.

    "No Mikey, I'm not letting you get your grubby little hands on this. I paid over a hundred for this so it's expensive AND it's MINE. So quit whining or we won't go to McDonald's for a snack."

    Tears welled up in his eyes.

    "Nuh uh, NO WAY! This may work on Mom, Greg, and Aunt Nicki, but this ISN'T gonna work on me you... you..."

    *YOINK*

    Skittering off amongst the throngs of afternoon shoppers, little Michael Spenser made off with his older cousin's newest possession. His ploy had worked. It ALWAYS worked. Though it may be hard to imagine a six year old with a fool proof plan, but then again he only used it against three adults and a twelve year old girl.

    "YOU LITTLE THIEF!", she screamed while tearing after her mischievous cousin.

    "COME BACK HERE NOW!"

    Sheila rounded the corner of the block and froze in mid stride. To her shock her young charge was held almost four feet off the ground by a monstrously large man covered from head to toe in shiny, black leather. In her peripheral vision no other person was in sight to help or even hear her cries, well if she wasn't paralyzed by a mix of fear, of surprise and nausea.

    "Well lookee what we got 'ere", a pair of calloused hands wrapped around her bare shoulders. The ever familiar sense of dread washed over her. The whole world went dark, and her body shudder in utter revulsion, the man's breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.

    Sheila steeled herself for the harsh whispered words and the inebriated groping that would follow but none ever came. Instead she was forcefully spun around on her heels only to face, not the drunken smirk of one of her mother's former boyfriends, but an odd little man in a stark white cowboy hat who spoke from through the corner of his mouth.

    "Jesus girly you look like you done seen a ghost! Look at her Bryce", again she was spun around by the little man but this time Sheila faced the towering ebony figure whom was presently scrutinizing the details that were carved across her recent purchase.

    "She's as white as a sheet! I think ya scared the living daylights outta 'er."

    Her body stayed in it's catatonic state but her mind, no, her soul screamed for her to do something. Michael hung there like a puppy caught by the scruff, and she did nothing to help him. Thoughts, ideas, scenarios, horrid memories, and magnified imaginary horrors drifted in and out of her consciousness. Yet still she did nothing.

    "This is the item we seek", the leather hulk waved it in view of the very, very Caucasian self purported shaman, "Let us return to your employ--."

    "NO!", little Michael screamed as loud as his lungs would allow, "THAT'S MY COUSIN'S!"

    The following actions seemed to occur in slow motion to Sheila. Her six year old charge's body slipped out from the Scooby Doo shirt Bryce held him suspended by. Then, while half naked, Michael hopped up and snatched the box from Bryce's shiny black hand before dashing between the man's legs and sped off down the block, most likely towards home.

    One would not be able to see the befuddled expression Bryce wore. The skintight ebony mask made details like this obscure to even the keenest eye. But, rest assured, shock and disbelief was present under his zippered up visage.

    "What's wrong with ya?", Tex bellowed with the preadolescent girl still in his clutches.

    For a moment everything began to fade. Darkness eclipsed her vision, her perception and something connected for a split second. This 'connection' began taking away the dark feelings and thoughts that had plagued her mind. Sheila released it all into that connection and she knew that something was going to happen. Within the fraction of that second she was free and clear of the fear, anger and hate that had been instilled in her over the years.

    "Go git that lil' sonuvabi--"

    Sheila took the initiative, spun herself around face to face with Tex, and then promptly introduced her bare knee to the Texan's wedding tackle and made off in her own version of Mikey's quick retreat. Bryce said and did nothing but sigh, dejectedly, all the while watching as Mr. Arkana doubled over onto the cracked sidewalk.

***

    Green flame circled the rocky hide of her partner. Her friend. Her brother. His body laid sprawled on their Mother's hard, warm flesh. Their Mother allowing her equally hard son to rest his weary self as his sister made ready to strike their opponent and their sibling, Halcyon, to end the match once and for all as proof of her Master Richmond's skill.

    The scene began playing itself over and over again in Emerald's mind and with each repetition of the performance she became more and more... aware.

    Eternity came to an end with the echoed whisper of the final syllable of an incantation heard long ago.