Young Writers Society

The place Stacy now called home was the definition of a fixer-upper. Floorboards were missing, parts of the ceiling were on the floor, cobwebs were everywhere, and hardly anything looked stable. She wasn’t quite sure just how she’d get it back into working order by herself, but she’d manage, somehow. Once basic cleaning was done, as far as she could get it, she went for her new toolbox. With a hammer in one hand and nails in the other, she began taking care of the most obvious repairs.

She had spent a fair amount of her money on supplies she thought she needed, and would likely need far more. At the moment, most of them were laid across the floor. She would have set them on the table, but was afraid that the table would collapse under the weight. She’d fix that next.

As she worked, moving from project to project, she began to envision the place in her mind; at least what she hoped she could get it to be. A small wooden table with a single wooden chair; a fireplace set in the back; a wood stove; no electricity to speak of; real wood floors; perhaps a thing or two to decorate the walls. In her mind, the dilapidated cabin she’d just settled into became a cozy little home she could live the rest of her new life in.

A knocking at the door startled her, and she barely missed smashing her fingers with her hammer. She had to take a few deep breaths before she could get up. Then it struck her; who would come all the way out here in the woods to her home? Could it be..?

She violently shook her head, trying to shake off her paranoia. If it was them they wouldn’t have knocked at the door in broad daylight, not even if no one could see them. She partially opened the door to see a young man standing at her doorstep. His hair was somewhere between short and medium length, black and a little scraggly. The rest of him reminded her of something, but she wasn’t sure what. He definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Hi, welcome to town” he said casually.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Chris, Chris Ternen. You’re Lindsey, right? Larry said you came in this morning.”

“Yeah, I did.” They stood there awhile, each just looking at the other. When she looked into his eyes, she saw something that she had never seen before. It spoke to her, though her mind could not comprehend the meaning. Chris looked away, towards the heart of the forest, beginning to shift his weight from foot to foot. She had the feeling that he had looked into her eyes as deeply as she had his.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked. She felt the look of surprise on his face likely mirrored the feeling of surprise she had at herself. What was she doing?

“Are you offering?” That was exactly what she had done, and he seemed a bit off balance. Now some of his muscles seemed to twitch a bit, like he was holding back running.

“I guess I am” she said, opening the door all the way. “Come in.”

He stood there a moment, uncertainty written on his face. Then he shook himself a bit, like a dog shedding water she thought, took a deep breath and calmly walked in. He looked around, looking as though he was taking in every detail.

“You’ve done a lot with the place” he said finally.

“Did you use to live here?” she asked, wondering if that was the cause of all his emotions.

“Yeah, a long time ago. I used to visit every now and then.” He clamped his mouth shut.

There was an awkward silence. “If you don’t want me to live here then-”

“No, no, it’s all right. That was all a long time ago. Don’t worry about it. It’s not my home anymore.”

“Where do you live?” If this was his old house, why was he still so close?

“In a cabin in the woods a mile or so south of here. I moved in after-” He shut his mouth again.

Stacy wanted to ask what he was going to say, but thought it rude. He was still a stranger after all, even if she had let him into her house.

He looked around again. “Do you need any help?”

She only thought for a moment. “Sure, thanks.”

* * *

To his own surprise, Chris actually returned the next day to help out. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought it might have to do with the way she made him feel when he was with her. He didn’t know what the feeling was; only that he liked it.

When he arrived he found her outside, standing on her roof wearing only jeans and a T-shirt. Her short brown hair fell straight down, covering her ears and going no farther. She had a bit of muscle on her, and he could hear it in the pounding of her hammer. He waited until she paused in what she was doing to call up to her.

“Lindsey! Whatcha working on?”

Putting the hammer in one of the loops on her jeans, she looked back and down at him. “I’m fixing the roof. Figured it’d be a good idea to fix the outside first so I can fix the inside when the weather gets nasty.”

“Mind if I join you up there?” He wasn’t sure if he should, as there wasn’t a whole lot of space on the roof.

“Sure, just be careful, there’s not a lot of room to move around up here.” As he made his way to the ladder, she called back again, “And could you bring up that sealer stuff on the way?”

He didn’t reply but picked it up and climbed up the ladder. Setting it down where they weren’t likely to kick it over, he walked over to her. There wasn’t all that much angle to the roof, as it only really needed to keep water off and not piles of snow.

“So, what can I do?” he asked.

She turned around to face him, wiping sweat off her brow with the back of her arm. “You can start on the other side of the roof. I’ll work on this side. Just look for holes and loose boards.”

“Sure.”

As they did their careful work, the sun made its way up further into the sky. There was hardly a breeze to speak of, and without a cloud in the sky the sun beat down on them relentlessly. Getting uncomfortable, he took off his shirt and draped it over his shoulder. Lindsey did the same, except she threw hers down to the base of the house, leaving her only in her bra up top. The first thing Chris noticed however was what was on her back.

It was a depiction of a hawk, seen from above with its wings spread wide as if in flight. He normally only saw them from below, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was a hawk. The wingtips touched the very edges of her shoulder blades, the tip of the beak just touching the base of her neck, and the tail feathers fell a little past halfway down her back. It was all in black, like a black and white pencil drawing. The details were remarkable.

“Nice hawk” he commented.

She spun around, almost losing her balance on the roof. Without thinking he sprang forward and caught her, grabbing her arms. Her eyes were wide, reminding Chris uncomfortably of the deer he hunted. She pulled herself from his grip and took a few hurried steps back, breathing heavily. He was afraid she could fall again, but stayed where he was.

Lindsey calmed down after a few deep breaths. “Oh, thanks. I’d kinda forgotten about it.”

Chris knew there was far more to it than that, but said nothing. Whatever it was, his seeing it clearly frightened her. “I haven’t seen something like that before” he said instead.

“It’s a tattoo. I got it a few years ago. I was younger then…” her voice trailed off at the last few words.

Chris could see pain in her eyes, pain and sadness. And he could swear that he could even smell fear from her, but he put that away as nonsense. There was no way he could tell that; he didn’t have his wolf’s senses as a human.

“It’s beautiful” he said eventually, then wondered why he said it. Why did he compliment something that had obviously brought her pain?

She smiled however, relieving some of his worries. “I’ve, sort of thought so to, though I don’t really see it all that often.”

“Well, let’s get this done so we can get out of the sun.”

“Yeah, it is pretty hot.”

* * *

When Chris left, Stacy put her shirt back on and walked back inside her home. There she fiercely berated herself. How could she have forgotten about that tattoo? How could she have let Chris see it? Why was she seeing anyone when she was supposed to be living alone? The last question actually hit her the hardest, because she could at least come up with half hearted excuses for the others. The last she could not.

She reached under the back of her shirt collar and felt the skin where she knew the hawk was. It was the symbol of a cult. A cult she had willingly joined about four years ago. She shuddered at the memories of the whole thing. The tattoo; the robes; the bizarre beliefs.

Tears came to her eyes as she recalled once more the reason she left, the reason she faked her own death, the reason she had come here. She had been accepted deeper and deeper into the cult, her devotion earning her high praise by the priests. She was invited to witness the purging of a cult woman’s soul. She recalled how she had been eager to go.

What she witnessed then all but shattered her mind. It was no purging, it was a murder. A gruesome, sick murder. For her own sake she had forced herself to be passive and show no emotion. The woman’s raw screams of pain and terror still haunted her dreams. The blood, the screams, and finally the end of the woman’s life had made Stacy feel sick, and she could still easily recall the feeling in her stomach, how hard it had been to keep from vomiting right then and there. At that point, she had fully realized her mistake.

Shortly after that, she had told the priest that she was leaving, and would never return. Hot tears rolled down her face and she fell to her hands and knees as she recalled what happened next. Quickly, she suppressed the memories. She did not want to relive it; she was afraid she would simply snap if she did. They had let her live, barely, and commented on how her soul appeared tainted. The threat had been left hanging. That’s when she knew she had to go, to die and become someone else.

That was what she was doing now, and they would never find her. Not here. Here she was not Stacy Lens, but Lindsey Stone. Stacy Lens was dead. She’d already buried that self.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she walked over to her kitchen to make something simple to eat.

That night, she heard the howling of a wolf. To her, the cry was lonely, desperate, and yet somehow anguished. It seemed to touch her, deep within. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. No, she was merely putting those emotions into that call. It meant nothing. Again the cry came, and she tried to shut it out. It was just a wolf.

A week after that encounter, and visiting Lindsey each of those days, Chris woke up with more pain in his heart than he could ever remember feeling. His longing hurt him now more than ever. Was it tied to what he felt when he was with Lindsey? When he recalled it, he was shocked at himself to realize that when he was with her, he often completely forgot about being a werewolf.

* * *

That first day, he had completely forgotten. The next, he only remembered when he saw the look of fright on her beautiful face. Beautiful face? He could hardly believe what he was thinking. Was he falling in love with this stranger? Was that what he felt, love?

No, he couldn’t feel love for her. He couldn’t let himself do it. It would only bring pain to them both. Chris feared that pain could drive him over the edge, making him do something he had feared all his life. No, he would forget about her, leave her alone, and go back to his solitude.

He stayed in his cabin the next week and a half, going out at night as he had always done. But something was different now. His wolf self knew that something had changed. He could feel it in his bones. His mate was near.

He knew she was near, but not where. He called to her, called and knew she heard. Where was she? Why did she not come? The wolf knew that the hunt was nearly over. His mate was near. He had only to find her.

Eventually, restless once more, Chris went to town. Again, he walked into Larry’s Tavern. It was really the only place he felt he could go. This time, he sat at a corner table near the back. There was only one window nearby, and nobody was near him. Maybe he could talk to Larry again.

He ignored the sound of approaching footsteps. They were too light to be Larry’s. He was a bit surprised that they were still getting closer and hadn’t stopped at a table already.

“Chris.” His name and the voice caught his attention and he whipped his head around to see Lindsey standing next to him. There was a nametag at her breast, though she wore everyday clothes. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He looked away, unable to look her in the eye. “Hi Lindsey. Sorry, I just…needed some time alone.”

“It’s all right” she replied. “So did I. So, can I get you anything?”

Chris looked up at her again. “You work here now?”

“Yeah. I needed money, and when Larry heard about it he offered me a job. He’s a great guy. You friends with him?”

He gave her a little smile. “Something like that.”

“Well, he certainly had a few things to say about you. Like your usual. You want me to get it for you?”

“And a glass of water” he added.

“All right, I’ll be back in a bit.” She gave him a little smile as she left.

As he sat there, he thought about her. No, he could never love her. That was impossible. But, maybe they could be friends. Yeah, they could be friends. The idea had appeal to him. They could become good friends; he would get what he wanted, and needed, and not be hurt. It could work.

It would have comforted him more if he could have brought himself to actually believe it.

* * *

When Stacy returned home, setting her nametag down on the counter, she thought about Chris. For whatever reason, she’d been doing that a fair amount recently. She wondered why he’d been so helpful, and then just stopped coming. Then there was the look in his eyes at the tavern. He seemed, so sad.

Then it struck her; why was she still thinking about him at all? Wasn’t she defeating the point of being here in the first place? With a sigh, she took her shirt off and sat down on the kitchen chair. She always did like wearing nothing but her bra, the sense of freedom it gave her. Nothing but air moving across her skin. She knew that true isolation likely wasn’t possible. Mentally, she just couldn’t take it. She had always been so social.

But those days were over. Stacy Lens was dead. She was Lindsey Stone now, and that was all that mattered. She felt that her new life was starting well. She had a home, a job, and obscurity.

Still, she liked it when Chris came over. He was so helpful, and so kind. That’s when she actually realized what it was she was feeling. It was the beginning of love. She was shocked. She was falling in love?

Stacy got up, suddenly unable to sit still. No, no, she couldn’t love him. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t risk losing everything again. Not again.

Then she had a thought. She was Lindsey now, so maybe she could start over. Though the thought was tempting, she could not bring herself to accept it. No, she didn’t want to get close to anyone. There would be too many secrets; secrets that she felt would keep her from being an honest lover. She would just have to nip this little romance in the bud.

Though, Chris could still be a friend. Yes, that would work. She could use a friend, needed a friend. That way, she could fool herself into thinking there was nothing more than friendship between them. That that was all the feeling was.

Making a little half hearted smile, she walked into her bedroom to get some sleep.