Excerpts from DAMAGED

EXCERPT from "Cancellation"

            Several things battered my abused senses all at once—the slatted bench I was sitting on, the black and white checkerboard floor tile under my feet that was smeared with redness, the blood dripping from my fingertips and watchband. A piece of something hanging from the tip of my nose. Images floated around me half-noticed, unimportant.

            A tissue dabbed at my face. When it pulled away, I saw it was spotted with blood. Voices faded in and out.

            "I don't know how--"

            "Have you talked to any of the other eyewitnesses?"

            "Oh, God, I can't believe it! Oh, God. Oh, my God!" This last voice was soft, very soft, and full of raw horror. Then I realized it was mine.

            "...exploded, Officer. Blooey!"

 
 
EXCERPT from "The Devil's Brew"

           “Honey, is something wrong?”

            Peter came up behind her where she was peeling potatoes to mash for supper. Resting his elbows on the counter next to the sink, he gazed up at her, waiting for her response.

            Vicky gave him a quick look. “No. Why do you ask?”

            “Normally when I get home from work, you talk my ear off while you’re cooking dinner. I’ve been home a little over half an hour, and you haven’t said a word,” her husband explained, adding a smile.

            She returned one of her own. “What? You don’t like the peace and quiet?”

            “Seriously. Did something happen today?”

            Giving a little exasperated sigh, she confessed, “You’re going to think I’m absolutely bonkers, just like Susan does.”

            “How can I make that decision unless you tell me what you did? Or was it something you said?”

            Dropping the potato and scraper into the plastic bowl, she tore off a sheet of paper towel from the roll hanging beneath the cabinet, wiped her hands, and turned to face him. “Susan fixed a cup of coffee for the both of us.”

            Peter raised an eyebrow. “Wow. That is big news!”

            “Peter!”

            “Awright. Awright. So she fixed you a cup of coffee. And?”

            Using her hands to demonstrate, she explained. “She uses one of those fill-it-yourself pods. She took the used one out of the coffeemaker, hit it six times in her hand, opened it, then hit the bottom of the pod six times to knock the grounds into the trash. But it wasn’t enough, so she pounded it in her hand three more times, and over the trash three more times.”

            Peter raised the other eyebrow. “I’m still waiting for the punchline.”

            “Don’t you get it? Six-six-six! It’s the devil’s symbol!”
 
 
EXCERPT from "The Drain"

            She pointed to the floor. “Look at that.”

            “Look at what?” He glanced downward.

            “There’s a drain in the middle of the bathroom floor.”

            He took a step back, then shook his head. “Where?”

            “Right there.” She tapped the glass to indicate a spot right next to his shoe.

            Her husband snorted. “You’re probably seeing the reflection of the shower’s drain in the glass.”

            Gina narrowed her eyes. “That’s what I thought at first, but that one’s different from the one in here,” she insisted.

            “How?” Opening the shower door a little, he stuck his head inside and tried to see what she was indicating. “I don’t see it, Gina. What do you mean, it’s different?”

            She double-checked the drain at her feet and compared it to the one she saw in the glass. “Look. This one in here is silver, with little circles. That one outside is brownish, with an X in the center of it, and four triangular-shaped holes for the water to go down.”

            She watched as he observed the drain in the shower, then tried to see the one he said was reflected in the glass. He eventually shook his head.

            “Sorry, but I don’t see another drain in the glass. And there is no drain in the floor out here, either.” He tossed her a worried look. “You’re probably overly tired.”

            “You think I’m imagining things,” she halfway accused.

            “I think you’re tired from the trip. Hurry up and get out of there. Looks like you won’t need to take a sleeping pill tonight.” Adding a smile, her husband left.