A slow smile crossed Vinnie’s face as he drove north on the interstate. The Friday night blues show was playing on the radio and the music tugged at his memory as he thought back on the dream he’d had early in the morning. He had the ability to recall most of his dreams, but rarely had one been so vivid, so seemingly real. She was tall, with long blond hair down to her shoulders. Her enchanting green eyes lit a fire in his heart that he hadn’t felt in years. How could this attraction be so strong; seem so real, he wondered? After all, it was only a dream.
    Vinnie reached into his shirt and fished out a crumpled cigarette pack, took one, lit it and exhaled slowly. It had been a long, hard week at the steel mill. His body ached, but it was Friday and it was time to unwind. The parking lot of the Harbor Lounge was nearly full as Vinnie parked and went inside. He hesitated for a moment, suddenly realizing where he was. He hadn’t been in the Harbor Bar in years, yet here he was. It was as if the hand of destiny were guiding him. A place like this was a bit out of character for him. Most of the customers were hotel guests and corporate types stopping off for a late-night drink.
    Vinnie slipped easily through the crowd and took a seat at the bar. He ordered a shot of dark rum with a glass of ginger ale to chase it down. He swallowed the rum in one gulp and sat sipping on his glass of ginger ale. Suddenly he heard a woman’s voice in his ear. It was soft and sultry and had a decidedly northern midwest accent. He knew that voice. “Katrina?”
    The expression on his face mirrored his amazement. His voice trailed off. He was lost in her gaze. The seconds of silence seemed like hours and then he recovered his composure. “Join me, won’t you?”
    “I’d love to.” Katrina smiled at him as she perched on the stool next to his. “I hoped you’d find me. I wasn’t sure you’d know where to look.”
    Vinnie was amazed. Here sat a woman who he’d never met in person, but the attraction he felt for her swept over him like a tidal wave of warmth and passion. He was sure she felt the same. They sat sharing conversation and laughter. Katrina’s hand found his and he felt her warmth. Her touch lit a fire in him that seemed to burn hotter with each passing moment. He could sense she felt the same. Suddenly she leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. “Take me to bed now?”
    “Oh baby, I can’t think of anything in this world I’d rather do.” Vinnie was surprised by his response. It seemed so natural, so comfortable being with Katrina. It was as if they’d been together before, but he was sure they hadn’t. Not in this lifetime at least. But was it possible? A lover from a past life? It was possible. Vinnie silently thanked the gods he worshiped as Katrina took his hand and led him out of the bar and toward her room. She reached into her purse for the key and Vinnie pulled her close, their hungry mouths meeting in a fiery exchange of passion.  Katrina’s body pressed close to his as they stood wrapped in each other’s arms. He could feel her heat as he was sure she could feel his. Vinnie took the key from her hand and they entered the room.
    Katrina kicked the door shut, turned and smiled wickedly. “Oh baby, I want you! I want you so bad!”
    Vinnie unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor as he watched Katrina slip out of her clothes. His breathing quickened as he saw her in the dim light, her gorgeous body quivering with anticipation. Katrina grabbed his hand, pulled him onto the bed and pounced on him like a jungle cat. Their mouths met again in another passionate kiss. Vinnie let his kisses trail across Katrina’s jaw and down her neck. His hands caressed her silky skin, feeling her shoulder muscles ripple as she repositioned herself above him, her luscious breasts dangling in his face.     His lips captured her stiffening nipples, first one and then the other as he eagerly sucked each one, nibbling lightly and letting his tongue light a fire on her skin. Vinnie could feel his erect cock trapped between Katrina’s steamy thighs as she tightened her muscles and scissored his member with exquisite movements that brought moans of pleasure from deep inside him. Katrina pinned his arms to the bed and slowly kissed his neck, letting her lips and tongue explore his body as she trailed hot kisses across his chest, nibbling and licking with passionate abandon. Vinnie could hear her breathing quicken as she continued to torture his cock with her thighs. “Oh God baby, you’re making me so hot! I don’t think I can stand it!”
    Katrina grinned wickedly. “Oh, I think you’ll do fine!” She slowly released his cock and slid up his body, straddling his chest with her legs as she grinned down at him. Vinnie reached up and took her magnificent breasts, one in each hand, his fingers teasing and squeezing her nipples. Katrina’s fingers clawed lightly at his skin as she moaned loudly and smiled. “M’mmmm. I love what you’re doing. M’mmm . . .you don’t have to be so gentle, I won’t break. I promise.”
    Vinnie didn’t need more encouragement. He pulled harder on her tits, watching as Katrina gasped with pleasure, slowly working her way higher on his body. Her thighs encircled his head and she slowly lowered her hot, wet pussy within range of his face. Vinnie released his hold on her breasts and gripped her ass cheeks, pulling her onto his face as his lips captured hers, his tongue driving between them. He slurped and licked and pulled her pussy lips, his tongue teasing and torturing her swollen clit. Katrina gasped for air, burying her hands in his hair as she pulled his face tighter into her. Her hips were pumping wildly as she felt his tongue drive deeper into her tight, clean shaved pussy. Her screams of ecstacy filled the air as she thrust her hips in a frenzied rhythm, the sweet release of orgasm sweeping her high on a wave of incredible pleasure. Her body shuddered violently as the intense pleasure she was feeling shot through her body like a bolt of lightning. Vinnie hugged her sweaty thighs as he renewed his efforts, licking and sucking without mercy. Katrina gripped the headboard, her arm muscles quivering with exertion as she lunged forward and back on her lover’s face. “Oh Jesus! Baby! Oh baby! Oh . . . Oh! God that feels good!”
    Katrina screamed and squealed as she felt herself nearing release once again. Vinnie continued at a torrid pace. Katrina’s body glistened with sweat and her contorted face mirrored the intense pleasure she was feeling. Vinnie grabbed her by the tits once more, pulling and twisting as his tongue and lips urged her higher and hotter. Katrina grabbed him by the hair and pulled hard as she erupted in a furious blast of warm love liquid. Vinnie felt her shift her position as she turned around repositioning herself on him. Her legs captured his head as she lunged forward and took his engorged cock in her hands, stroking with slow, deliberate movements. She raised her head and gave him an evil smile. “Baby, I’m going to suck you dry. I want to watch you suffer!” Vinnie could feel Katrina’s thighs tighten around his head and he dove into her hot, wet pussy anxious to bring her even more pleasure. The two lovers rolled onto their sides as Katrina took his pulsing member in her mouth, her tongue teasing him relentlessly. He could feel her clawing his ass cheeks as he hugged her thighs and frantically licked and sucked her hungry pussy. Muffled shrieks and squeals of pleasure filled the air, the sound of flesh slapping flesh blending in to produce an erotic symphony of raw animal passion.
    Katrina tortured him mercilessly, licking and sucking the entire length of his rock-hard love pole. Vinnie matched her efforts, nibbling and sucking Katrina’s pussy. He could feel himself nearing release as Katrina continued at a frightful pace. She was merciless as she coaxed more and more arousal from him. Vinnie could feel his load burst free as he exploded in a surge of hot cum, his primal screams echoing off the walls of the room. Moments later Katrina’s screams blended with his as she erupted in a passionate burst of sheer pleasure. The two lovers lay panting and sweating, wrapped in each other’s arms. Vinnie let his hands slowly explore Katrina’s body and his fingers found their way down to her inner thighs. He slowly caressed her skin, letting his hands move ever closer to her waiting pussy. His fingers teased her lips and gradually penetrated her. “M’mmmm . . .That feels SO good, baby.”
    Vinnie’s fingers worked in a magical rhythm, Katrina’s hips matching his movements. The exquisite torture continued until Katrina was gasping for breath and clawing at his shoulders. Suddenly her body stiffened and then shuddered as she erupted once more in a glorious burst of pleasure. Squeals and gasps filled the air as she thrashed on the bed, her gorgeous body writhing with intense release. Katrina was wild with arousal. The more intense the love making, the hotter she became. Vinnie was sure he had died and gone to heaven. He felt Katrina’s powerful body roll on top of him as she positioned herself, her pussy lips taking his cock and pulling it deep into her. She worked with a circular motion, grinding her hips into his as she felt his cock penetrate deep into her. Her hands gripped Vinnie’s waist and she watched her lover laying beneath her. She loved being in total control. It made her even hotter.
    Vinnie thrust his hips upward with powerful lunges, meeting her every stroke. He reached up and grabbed two handfuls of Katrina’s blond hair, pulling her down onto him as he thrashed and lunged under her. Their bodies slammed into each other with wild abandon as they neared another magnificent burst of pleasure and hot liquid. Gasping and screaming and moaning, they collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs, drifting off to sleep held tightly in each other’s arms. Katrina heard Vinnie’s words whispered quietly to her. “Good night, my magnificent lover.” She smiled a contented smile. A hazy image appeared at the foot of the bed. It was a man and a woman standing quietly watching the lovers sleep. The woman turned to the man with a quizzical expression. “So this is Katrina?”
    The man smiled and nodded his head. “It is.”

Captain Morgan:    Ahoy chandabear! The day’s a bit brighter have’n ya here in the wheelhouse. H’mmm. You look a wee bit pale. You don’t feel seasick now do ya?

Chanda:    It’s this gurgling penis pump sitting next to me on the couch. It’s nothing to worry about; I’m sure I’ll adjust soon.

Captain Morgan:    I do apologize for that! Damn gnomes keep dragging it up here to the wheelhouse. They love to use it to inflate their new anatomically correct female blow-up dolls.
Anyway, now that we’re underway I’ve just gotta comment on the size of the seabag you brought aboard. Anything good to eat in it?

Chanda:     I left out the stuff from chicken butts out of respect for you but I did whip up some biscuits and gravy! A LOT of biscuits and gravy. How IS your cholesterol level these days Capt’n?

Captain Morgan:     Too damn low! This should help immensely! Oh! I s’pose I should apologize for my gnomes. I understand they were procreating rather enthusiastically in your yard last night. I hope they didn’t wake you and the Buffalo Man.

Chanda:    The gnomes were fine. Lets talk about the noise from YOUR bedroom.... ohhhh wait! Let’s not. You didn’t hear anything from our tent, did you? Wait! I don’t want to know that either.

Captain Morgan:     I say we admit to nothing and DEMAND proof! That usually works. And as long as we’re sail’n with no particular destination in mind, what port would ya like to put into?

Chanda:    I don’t like water, Captain. An ocean’s nothing more than shark soup......a sea of shark soup. Can we choose a destination other than a port? How’s about a mountain top?

Captain Morgan:    Actually shark soup’s not bad. But your wish is my command. We’re off to the top of Mt. St. Helens. I understand you do a fair amount of travell’n yourself. Any favorite cities come to mind?

Chanda:     I’d say San Francisco and Budapest.....okay and New York City. I like Boulder, CO and Atlanta. Oh hell! (Yikes! Can I say that here?) Just give me a city with public transportation, good food and cool stuff to look at and I’m happy. Or maybe just set up camp in Harstel, CO. It’s the home of the “Hateful Old Bitch Saloon”, right in the heart of river fishing, beer drinking and South Park.

Captain Morgan:    My curiousity’s jump’n around in my head like a fart in a skillet. Tell me more about your friend, Ron. This reverend stuff sounds damn interesting to me. I might want to resurrect the character of Reverend Jim from the old Taxi televison series.

Chanda:    Please, Captain! While I’m tolerating the gurgling penis pump here on your sofa, would you mind NOT farting? Actually, Ron hooked me up to be a minister to. If you’re in need of marrying or burying look no further.....I am your skinny, white girl for the job! The only downfall is I have found the “clergy” parking pass (included in the $50 package) isn’t worth a hill of beans when seeking prime parking at hockey games. And the Reverend Jim....Oh gawd! That was funny stuff! The episode when he went to take the drivers license test was the best......s-l-o-w.....d-o-w-n.

Captain Morgan:    Speaking of odd religions and worlds lost and found, tell me chanda, why’d you start blogging. (And I’m damn glad you did! Love reading your posts.)

Chanda:    Captain, a compliment like that coming from you means the world. Glad you like my jacked sense of humor. Biggie T at the doghouse got me blogging after a night of partying....I kept standing on this bucket of drywall mud that we used for a door stop. It was a heated discussion about.....well now I don’t remember, but I tell you, it WAS heated. I was shorter than everyone, so it seemed appropriate to step up and get eye level. They coined the term “step up on your drywall mud” and Biggie T felt I needed to tell the whole world my senseless crap....thus my blogging was born. I love posting about true but crazy stuff in our ‘hood and things that just come to mind. What a brain dump this serves to be.

Captain Morgan:    Now! Lets say we’re in port and skullking around together. We discover an old, abandoned house. Would you go inside?

Chanda:    Oh yeah! Once inside I’d be a big bag of chicken shit, though......ghosts and serial killers live in abandoned houses you know. You would be there to protect me, right?

Captain Morgan:     What was the question again? Oh! Protection. Yes! I’m definitely for it. Okay, now what if we found an antique steamer trunk in the attic. What d’ya suppose we’d find in it? And if you say “dead body” I’m gonna shit my pants.

Chanda:    Some bones would be cool. Or maybe the answers to life.....not sure if I want those though....the answers to life, that is.

Captain Morgan:    I’m giddy with excitement! Now! The contents of the trunk turn out to be way valuable and we split the profits and acquire one million dollars each. What would you do with your share of the money?

Chanda:    One million dollars doesn’t go so far today. I would pay off all our bills, build a greenhouse and dig that Japanese Garden and Coi Pond (Rob would REALLY like that)..... Wait! I have to put up a fence so no one would see us and ask for cigs. Then I would watch my new rain buckets fill with water and learn as much as I can.....that’s what I’d do with my day. Maybe hook my grandparents up with some Cripple Creek gambling money and make sure my sisters and stepson can go to college.... We’ll see how much my ejumacation is gonna cost.

Captain Morgan:    I haven’t told anyone but I have a magical telescope that allows me to see into the future. It’s not entirely accurate. Damn gnomes are forever fiddling with the knobs. What the hell. I like fiddling with knobs to, so I s’pose it’s sorta genetic in an odd way, but I digress. It appears that you and the Buffalo Man will be considering relocating in three years. Any thoughts on where it might be to?

Chanda:    I see Atlanta in our future but one never knows. I can set up camp anywhere... just depends on where the jobs take us.

Captain Morgan:    I’m considering reviving the original Doo Dah Parade. If I do it will CERTAINLY have to include the amazing Marching Lawn Mower Brigade, of which I am a charter member. Should  I have the good fortune of doing so, would you consider joining the Brigade? You would have to supply your own lawnmower, of course.

Chanda:    Oh my gawd!!! You’re the FOUNDER of the Doo Dah Parade? I can’t believe it. I can’t answer this question. I need a cool rag on my head to calm the excitement.

Captain Morgan:     Wow! You ARE all atwitter! Here....breathe into this bag and listen as I explain. No....I’m not the founder of the Doo Dah Parade (though I’d dearly love to lay claim to that amazing undertaking.) I’m a charter member of the Marching Lawn Mower Brigade, which was very much and still may be a real highlight of the Doo Dah Parade.

Chanda:    Sorry, Captain. I heard revival and DooDah Parade......well....I didn’t hear anything after that. I got a little too excited, as you can see. Thanks for the bag. I think we’ve determined that OF COURSE I’d be part of the Marching Lawn Mower Brigade.. But I’m not allowed to have sharp things in my possession. (Don’t ask.) Would you mind disassembling the mower blades for me?

Captain Morgan:    Not to worry, Chanda. I’ve already factored in that you’re not allowed near sharp objects. It just so happens the old captain’s afflicted with the same malady. So I’ve devised a wondrous adaption. You’ll notice that these lawnmower blades are made of latex rubber. Okay, now lets get a bit esoteric. I love to get esoteric now and then. Don’t you?

Chanda:    That is life though, isn’t it?

Captain Morgan:     Indeed it is. There’s not a day goes by I don’t feel positively esoteric! But I digress. Of your six senses, which do you value the most?

Chanda:    Uh, the sixth one. But Buffalo Rob says I have too many tastebuds...which number is that one? I always forget the numbers of the five food groups and the five senses.  Maybe I’ll change my answers if you number the senses one to five.

Captain Morgan:    Too late. Surrender your taste buds!  Now. Onward and upward. Assuming my theory’s correct and we’re all old souls migrating from one lifetime to the next and assuming you could choose to move instantly to the past or the future, which would you choose and why?

Chanda:    I’d certainly go forward. I already (pseudo)learned the crap from the last many lives. I’d like to put to use the information I’ve gained and reach enlightenment. Was that too deep?

Captain Morgan:     Not at all. Delightfully profound is how I’d characterize your response. Now lets play Lets Make A Deal. I’ve acquired a used, but still functional mechanical bull. What would you trade me for it?

Chanda:    I don’t get it.....trade you or the bull? And for what? My right toe?

Captain Morgan:     H’mmmm. Well....trade me and I’ll give you bull....I mean THE bull. Wait! Toes??? Eureka! I know a guy down the street with a foot fetish! Oh my! This could be big! REALLY BIG!  * struggling to regain my composure* Okay..... lets mooove on to the next question. If you were granted three wishes, what would they be?

Chanda:    This question sucks! If you’re my genie to deliver, I’ll answer. Otherwise ...bugger off! *insert smiley dude here....and heart*

Captain Morgan:     Of COURSE it’s me granting the wishes. But I must warn ya. My wish granting capabilities have been runnning thoroughly amuck recently. Meanwhile, you got any thoughts on the demise of Pluto?

Chanda:     Surprisingly, I have. I feel we’ve failed this poor planet for many moons (pun NOT intended). Sitting out there in the cold with no mitts or muffs. Then we downgrade his/her ass. I’d be happy to hear Pluto’s wandered about and set up camp in a new solar system that appreciates his/her attributes. Like seeing your child off to college.

Captain Morgan:    If you had a choice between being able to fly or make yourself invisible at will, which would you choose?

Chanda:    This question sucks to! I want both!

Captain Morgan:    Who are the five bloggers you’d most like to meet in person and why?

Chanda:    I knew this was coming. I’ve thought about it while brushing my teeth these days. Since others cheat in the couples listing....I’ll not rise above. Captain and Chey (and I now pronounce her name correctly)...real people, down to earth and I think we’d have some great conversations. Prank and Miss Six.....this comes with conditions, mind you. If things get too hot you MUST get a room. Please! Kristin, who I find witty, funny and smart. Misty. She’s sarcastic, smart and funny. I love her twisted sense of humor. Whit, because he’s both elusive and brilliant. R.E. Knowlten because he’s a brilliant writer and manipulates words with style.Oh! And ZappaFan. I imagine he just might also be a hippie with punk rock tendencies. I may be wrong....but his wife makes a cool ass wedding cake! Wait! There’s one more....Zwebusa. Another pocket-protector wearing person with some coolness on the outside.

Captain Morgan:    Sheesh! You shot that response past the mark by three. Okay.....one last question: What music’s in your CD player or music devices right now?

Chanda:    I just took stuff out cuz we don’t really listen to CD’s these days. Rhapsody, baby! Talking Heads “More Songs About Buildings and Food” and Tom Waits “Blue Valentine” are the most recent flat things in our contraption.

Captain Morgan:    Wow Chanda, this’s been enlightening and thoroughly enjoyable. Now lets get the hell down off this mountain top. I failed to mention we’re sitting on top of a LIVE volcano!

Sweat dripp'n off my jawline. . .
Splash'n on the the keys.
I saw. . .
But it was. . . illusion.

Fingers fly'n across the keys. . .
Guitar riffs catch'n the waves of my solos. . .
Higher and higher. . .
The thunder of the bass line. . .
The staccato rhythm of the drums.
I was becoming one with the music. . .
But it was. . . illusion.

Through the smoky haze and stage lighting
I saw her with her sensuous brown eyes. . .
Eyes boring to the center of my essence.
A slight smile. Taunting and teasing. . .
A body taut and firm. . . pulsing with passion.
But it was. . . illusion.

I felt her touch me with her mind.
I felt her explore my emotions with her smile and her eyes.
I consumed her strength. . .
Yet I found myself drowning in the scent of her.
But it was. . . illusion.

Her every movement drove me deeper.
We were drawn together. . .
Like shades of burgundy and brown.
A mouth harp shrieked and screamed. . .
Answering the call of the chords I was playing.
A tenor sax solo slowly decended. . .
Like a gorgeous circus performer swinging high above.
But it was. . . illusion.

She moved closer. . .
Nearer to the stage.
Her seductive smile sent shards of sensation ricocheting up my spine.
I closed my eyes.
I could feel her lips gently brush my consciousness.
I made a silent wish.
If only she were mine and mine alone.
But it was. . . illusion.

I felt my soul drawn into a vortex of strong emotion.
I drew a deep breath. . .
And opened my eyes.
Fear and disbelief slammed into me. . .
Like a meteor into earth's atmosphere.
The hands I saw on the keyboard were small and petite.
The well-worn boots I wore were replaced. . .
With stilletto heels, shiny and black.
My arms and legs weren't mine. . .
My body was smaller. . .
Lithe and firm.
But it was . . . illusion.

A silent scream escaped my consciousness.
Seconds hung like glass fruit in a strange and surreal tree.
It was I who had become the sexual fantasy. . .
Standing right there in front of me.
But it was . . . illusion.

   
    It is said that if you listen close enough, you can hear the snow falling out of the sky. It is possible. I've heard the sound of snow falling. I've heard the sounds of sadness and anger. I've heard cries of anguish and pain.
    I've also heard sounds of laughter, love and unbounded passion. I think all the sounds I've heard are stored somewhere in my mind like a jumbled I-Pod with no earbuds. The sound of my beloved soulmate's voice. The sound of my dogs rejoicing when I arrive home from work. The sound of traffic on the freeway just behind the Morgan shack. The sound of rain beating a rhythm on the metal roof. The sound of machinery in the foundry.
    These are familiar sounds. Fond sounds. Sounds that reassure me life is as it should be. But then there are times when I'm lost in a dreamwalk in the early morning of another new day. Unfamiliar sounds. Voices I don't recognize. Sounds that eminate from locations I can't manage to find.
    I find myself trying to awaken, but the dreamwalk's not yet complete. I push onward, ever in search of the elusive sounds I'm driven to discover. I've come to the conclusion that the unfamiliar sounds and the unrecognized voices are signposts on a highway running parallel to the long, lonesome highway I've travelled in my life.
    Voices and sounds from a different dimension and a different time. Voices and sounds of past lives and lives yet to be lived. The secrets of their existence lies in the suns, the moons and the stars occupying a far and distant universe not yet discovered. A journey yet to be booked. Fare yet to be paid. Travel available only on that mystical mode of transportation known as....The Hitchcock Railway.

    Flashes of lightning cast frightening shadows on the bedroom wall. Another crash of thunder rattled the window. Tears fell from Salvatore’s large, brown eyes. He was galvanized in his bed. Light and sound slowly subsided and Salvatore peered into the darkness, his frightened eyes blinking repeatedly as he struggled to overcome his fear.
    He knew his parent’s bedroom was below him on the next floor. He slid off the bed, crept to the door and peered through the railing on the stairwell. His father lay on the floor in front of his bedroom door. A giant of a man stood over him. The explosions of sound weren’t all thunder. There had been gun shots as well.
    The killer was unaware the only witness to his crime was a three year old boy hiding in an attic bedroom. A little boy frozen by fear. Salvatore watched the man disappear from sight and ran to his father’s side. The concept of death was beyond his grasp. He ran into the bedroom, crying and calling for his mother. She lay on a blood-soaked blanket on the bed. She was dead. Salvatore’s cries continued for nearly an hour.
    Exhausted and emotionally drained, he fell asleep on the floor by the bed. Morning light streamed through the hall window and Salvatore awoke. Presented once again with the gory sight of his dead parents, he made his way to the neighbor’s home. He was greeted at the door by a slender man with a friendly face and a warm smile. Anthony was friendly with Salvatore’s family and knew them well. “Salvatore! What on earth are you doing out here?”
    Salvatore babbled unintelligably and reached up to take Anthony’s hand. Anthony picked Salvatore up and they walked next door. “Angelo! Where are you?”
    Anthony called out again. “ Carlotta? Anyone home?” He was puzzled. It was unusual for them not to answer. Anthony walked slowly up the stairs and at the landing saw Angelo lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. “Madre di dio! Che cosa?”
    Within minutes police began to arrive. Detectives and crime scene investigators combed through the house, examing every detail of the scene. Salvatore sat silently on the living room couch, comforted by a female patrol officer. “Would you like something to eat?” She asked with a gentle smile.
    Salvatore nodded his head and followed her into the kitchen. As the day passed, Salvatore found himself transported to a new and strange environment. It was a large home, similar to his. Frank and Stella were warm and friendly people, well-versed in comforting children trapped in traumatic experiences. They’d been foster parents to dozens of children and had adopted several. Salvatore was another in a long procession of children who desperately needed their help.
    Over time Salvatore’s sadness and recurring nightmares subsided. By the time he was old enough to begin school he’d developed a strong bond with his new family. He was a quiet boy, tall for his age and slender. His teachers noticed his reluctance to communicate and interact with other children. In class he was unusually silent and on the playground kept to himself. At home he was especially close to his foster brother, Frank. They became inseperable and Salvatore shared his fondest dreams and deepest fears with him. As they neared graduation, Salvatore confided in Frank, swearing him to secrecy. “There’s something I need to do. Something I’ve waited all my life for.”
    Frank gave him a quizzical stare. “So what’ve you got on your mind?”
    “I intend to find the man that killed my mother and father.” The coldness in his voice was unnerving.
    “What? Are you nuts? If the police can’t find him how are you gonna do it?”
    Salvatore’s eyes blazed with hatred. “I’ll find him. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I will and when I do I’m gonna send him straight to hell.”
    Frank fidgeted nervously. It was a side of him he’d never seen. “Well, if your hell bent to do it I’ll help.”
    “No! This is something I need to do alone. I know you’d help and I sort’ve wish you could help, but you can’t.”
    It was the first and last time Salvatore spoke of his deep-seated vendetta. After high school, Salvatore began working at the steel mill. He devoted his spare time to collecting news accounts and odd bits of information about his parents demise. There was little to go on. Salvatore wanted desperately to track down the killer but there was no way to succeed. It became an obsession, consuming his thoughts and invading his dreams.
    As the years passed, Salvatore turned to alcohol to help him deal with the demons haunting him. The third time he appeared at work intoxicated he was finally terminated. Jobless and addicted to liquor, Salvatore’s life disintegrated. He maintained a meager existence with jobs he got from a nearby casual labor hiring hall and spent much of his time at The Cellar, a sleazy neighborhood bar frequented by hoodlums and hookers. He became known as someone best left alone. Those brave enough to engage him in brief conversation generally found themselves on the receiving end of his drunken tirades.
    No one seemed to believe the stories he told of his parents violent demise. Late one evening, as Salvatore sat alone at the bar, nursing a glass of cheap bourbon, a stranger sat down next to him. The stranger had long, black hair tied back in a pony tail and a scar running from his cheek bone to his jaw line. His green eyes had an eerie glow and there was an aura of mystery about him. The bartender stared in amazement as Salvatore turned and spoke to the stranger. Salvatore rarely spoke to anyone in the bar. “Do I know you?” He growled.
    The stranger turned and looked at Salvatore. His eyes gripped Salvatore like hands on his shoulders. “I’m Charlie Maiara. You don’t know me, but I’ve known you for a very long time. Let’s move to a table where we can speak freely.”
    It was as if Salvatore was in a trance. He listened as Charlie spoke. “I know of your quest, Salvatore. I know the malice you feel in your heart and I know it’s there with good reason. The man who took the life of your mother and father is nearby, much nearer than you realize. Soon you will face him and you will face a choice. You can either spare his life or exact your revenge.”
    Salvatore’s face was a contorted mask of anger and anguish. “Spare his life? Not very god damn likely! I’ve hunted that bastard for years. You say you know where he is. Tell me where then and be on your way.”
    There was a trace of sadness in Charlie’s eyes. “You’ve made your choice then?”
    “I made my choice a long, long time ago. You just lead me to the son of a bitch and I’ll do the rest.” Salvatore was trembling with anger, anxious to confront the man who had killed his parents. “It doesn’t make a damn to me what happens, but I’m gonna kill him. Now. Are you gonna take me to him?”
    There were a collection of dingy apartments above the bodega. Charlie led Salvatore up the littered stairwell to the second floor landing and pointed at a battered door. “This is his home. Are you sure this is what you wish to do?”
    Without a word, Salvatore stepped past Charlie and beat on the door with his fist. There was no answer. Salvatore turned to curse at Charlie, but there was no one there. Salvatore was alone in the hallway. Seething with rage, he pounded on the door again. Still there was no response. Unable to restrain himself, Salvatore kicked the door. The jamb split apart and the door flew open. There was a man lying face down on the couch. An empty gin bottle lay on the floor and a television droned in the background. Salvatore’s expression froze as he stood peering at the mountain of a man lying in a drunken stupor before him.
    The man’s face brought back a flood of horrifying memories. Without hesitation Salvatore unbuckled his belt and pulled it free of his trousers. Wrapping it around the man’s throat he tightened it, watching intently as his victim gasped and choked for air. Suddenly the room darkened. Salvatore could feel himself swept off his feet. It was as if he were carried by an invisible force beyond his control. He could see the man beneath him, begging for his life. “You rotten bastard! I’m gonna kill you!” He screamed.
    Salvatore felt himself falling. The shock of the impact jarred him. He shook his head, trying to make sense of what had happened. The man he had killed lay at his feet and they were surrounded by sand, sagebrush and rocks. There was nothing but desert as far as the eye could see. Salvatore squinted up at the sun high in the sky and scrambled to his feet. “Where in the hell am I?” His rage was rapidly turning to fear.
    As Salvatore surveyed his surroundings, the man he had intended to kill stirred slightly. He was certain he’d killed him, but there he was, still alive. Salvatore renewed his deadly efforts. Once again his victim ceased moving. Satisfied that he was indeed dead, Salvatore slowly walked away.
    As he made his way up a near-by ridge, he paused to catch his breath. There behind him, was the man he was sure he’d killed, once again. Salvatore stood staring in disbelief. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Charlie Maiara. His eyes bored through Salvatore like an auger bit through balsa wood. There was a long silence before Charlie spoke. “Welcome, Salvatore. Welcome to eternity. You should hurry now. Your victim’s trying to escape.”