CHAPTER ONE

CHRISTINA

I stretched my back and yawned, pushing my bright red hair out of my face. I’d already been awake for three hours and, of course, I’d started working the moment I rolled over and my brain clicked on. I suppose you could say it’s one of my more annoying personality traits, but once I’m awake there’s no turning back and I launch immediately into obsessive work mode.

Personally, I chose to appreciate the fact that my quirk allowed me to achieve optimal productivity levels each and every day. I was aware that some people couldn’t even speak until they’d had at least three cups of coffee, but hey, to each their own.

This industrious tunnel vision of mine might have been a problem if I hadn’t lived alone. But I didn’t even have a pet to be annoyed by my workaholic nature, so it was all good. I clicked “command S” to save my file and then closed the lid on my MacBook Pro.

I still needed to pick out music and design a thumbnail, but I was mostly done with my video on how to make a garbage can out of old magazines. The project had turned out even cuter than I’d imagined it would. I briefly considered keeping the crafty creation for myself, but if I saved all of my masterpieces, I would need a warehouse to hold them all.

I padded over to the fridge and groaned when I saw the line of Post-it notes I’d placed there to remind me that I needed to go grocery shopping. I pulled open the door to the fridge anyway but all that greeted me was a bunch of half-empty condiment jars. As depressing as the barren sight was, it didn’t really surprise me.

This wasn’t the first time I’d found myself in this particular situation. I sometimes imagined a world where high-tech futuristic robots replaced my food stocks without me even having to ask. I understood that I probably wouldn’t be around by the time the cartoon Jetsons’ fabulous life became a reality. And I most definitely could not afford a personal shopper or the tips and fees added by food delivery services.

So that left me with my present reality. Unless I wanted to try mixing ketchup and mayonnaise to make the world’s most disgusting tomato soup concoction, I wasn’t going to find breakfast anywhere in my kitchen. I was very much a creature of habit, so this wasn’t likely to be the last time I backed myself into a corner.

I worked for myself, and to say that I was a little obsessive would be the world’s largest understatement. I ran a popular YouTube crafting channel, which meant my house was stocked with every type of tool and creative medium you could imagine. I loved to create and never wanted to stop. I could make any craft imaginable, so long as it wasn’t edible.

This meant that consumable items like food and even toilet paper were much harder for me to keep in stock. Not for the first time I considered starting up some kind of food vlog, not because I knew the first thing about cooking, but because at least then I could count on eating on a somewhat regular basis.

I had no idea what to do about the toilet paper conundrum. Was it possible to have such an item delivered without ridiculous prices? I could imagine heaps of unopened Amazon boxes piling up on my doorstep when I forgot to go outside to retrieve them. With my luck, the neighbors would steal them all, and then I would still find myself stranded on the toilet.

I groaned and headed towards the shower. I had put it off as long as possible; I was going to have to shed the baggy sweats and t-shirt and clean up. People recognized me when I went out now, which was awesome except for the fact that it took me two hours to look as cute and together as I did on camera.

Most of the time I didn’t even bother to bathe or get dressed. There was always more work to do, and I was the only one to do it. Most of my videos just showed close-ups of my hands except for the very beginning and end clips. So, I typically knocked out several video intros and outros at once to avoid having to get glammed up as often. That way I didn’t have to get full-body-pretty so long as my nails looked good. 

Honestly, I spent most of my time sitting on my butt in front of my computer going through hours and hours of footage and condensing it down into watchable portions. Lately, I’d been considering outsourcing some of the editing, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to invite someone else into the jumbled mess that was my life. Every room but the bathroom of my house was set up to film in. I had numerous filming sets so that my fans wouldn’t get bored watching me in the same location all the time.

Entering the shower, I sighed as I stepped under the powerful spray. The hot water felt fantastic. The days-old buildup of hairspray I had to scrub out of my scalp must have weighed several pounds because I felt physically lighter after I finished the onerous chore. I did my best to avoid glancing over at the giant mirrors that seemed to cover every inch of the walls in the bathroom.

They’d been there when I’d moved in, and although they were extremely helpful for doing my hair and makeup, I hated seeing myself naked. The last thing I needed was to see how many more pounds had crept onto my unforgiving butt and thighs. My body didn’t seem to care how little time I spent eating, or how few calories I actually consumed. My rear end continued to grow and grow in a way that seemed disproportionate to the upper half of my body which appeared relatively trim.

My evil DNA had decided I was going to carry around an exaggerated pear shape without ever bothering to consult me. So my go-to strategy was to never ever look at myself if I didn’t have to, and dresses . . . lots of thigh-concealing dresses. Editing myself with pretty clothes and makeup on video was hard enough, I didn’t need to see the close-up, X-rated version too.

I wrapped a towel around myself and then winced at the faint mildew smell wafting off of it. I went to swap it out for a fresh one. I reached for the door to the towel closet and saw another of my “helpful” Post-it notes alerting me to the fact that I needed to do laundry. I bit my lip in frustration. Please let me have clean underwear!

Some days I can’t help but feel like the universe has it out for me. Every last pair of underwear was dirty, even the pairs that were really too tight, as well as my hideously stained period panties. All of this was steadily clueing me in to the fact that this day was destined to suck. As much as I wanted to crawl back into bed and start over, I knew that wouldn’t help. I had to go shopping, clean underwear or not.

Muttering under my breath about hiring a maid, I tossed a load of clothes into the washer and started it. Of course, I couldn’t afford to hire someone to clean for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t pretend. Even if I used the fast wash, there wouldn’t be anything ready in time for today’s outing. Ugh.

I blow-dried my hair and painted my face on. Too bad I didn’t have time for makeup every day because I always enjoyed the results in the end. I looked so good that I was considering filming a quick video intro or two when my stomach rumbled, reminding me of why I’d bothered bathing in the first place. Oh yeah, I needed groceries. Maybe I could shoot a few quick intros when I got back.

I pulled a colorful maxi dress out of the closet. It was one of my favorites because I’d made it myself. It consisted entirely of fabric scraps, none of which had been larger than three inches in diameter. It had been one of my earlier attempts at quilting and it had turned out surprisingly well. I loved how cheerful and colorful it was, and best of all, it concealed my hips and thighs.

Smiling, I tugged my favorite dress over my head and turned to assess my reflection in the mirror. The white bodice had a flattering neckline that crossed diagonally in the front, forming a v-shape. Then it cinched in at my waist before flaring out dramatically. This ensured that the substantial nature of my butt and thighs remained a mystery to the general public. My mother had drilled into me for most of my life that I needed to hide my legs if I ever hoped to land a man. Yes, our relationship was highly dysfunctional, but no one gets to pick their moms.

Next came the really hard decision. I could wear gross dirty underwear, wet clean underwear, or attempt something I’d never done before . . . commando. I shocked even myself when I opted on sans panties. Was there some sex-starved goddess waiting inside me to come out, or did the inner me just long to stay both clean and dry?

I grabbed my giant purse which was more like a small suitcase than an actual handbag. It wasn’t the most fashionable of accessories, and it could be murder on my back, but I needed every single item in it and that was that. Most of my crafts were made from found objects, so my bag had duplicates of many of the tools on my craft sets.

I had everything from scissors to screwdrivers, and pliers in my bag. Picking up people’s unwanted junk and somehow cramming it into my trunk was all part of my job. I’d considered buying a full-sized van or a truck on more than one occasion but had never quite been able to resign myself to driving something so ugly. I was also leery of spending any extra money on gas!

Whatever I made on my show served double duty in the income department. First off, I made revenue from the ads people were subjected to as they watched my crafting tutorials. Thankfully, most of my viewers were either too kind or too lazy to click “skip” on the ads placed in my videos. Those views were what kept my rent and my utilities paid.

My second revenue stream didn’t gross as much money but was still worth the effort. Each project I completed was carefully photographed and then listed for sale in my Etsy store. I was still surprised at how many people liked watching my videos but didn’t actually want to re-create the projects for themselves. For those particular fans, my Etsy store was awesome because it allowed them to buy my one-of-a-kind creations without forcing them to put in the work. It was the best of both worlds for someone who wanted unique upcycled art and home goods. 

I made a quick dash around the house gathering up Post-it reminders as I went so that I could put off the next shopping excursion as long as possible. Yikes, I was even out of duct tape and white thread. That was the equivalent of a print store running out of copy paper . . . which, apparently, I needed to purchase as well.

I sighed as I tossed my bag in the passenger seat and clicked the garage door opener. It was going to be a long day. First things first, I hit the Starbucks drive-thru because even though most people had moved on to lunch by that point, my stomach was still craving the most important meal of the day. I ordered extra cream cheese for my bagel and sipped happily on my latte. 

Now that I had something in my stomach, I was able to think more clearly. I decided to shop for my craft supplies first because, unlike my perishables, they wouldn’t melt in the hot sun. As I navigated my way through the seemingly endless aisles, I answered comments from my YouTube fans. Downloading the app to my phone had been one of the smartest business decisions I’d ever made. I tried to check in every day, or they had a tendency to build up fast. I was three comments in before I realized I’d overlooked something crucial.

I hadn’t looked at a calendar or I would have known it was my birthday sooner. It was the ultra-crappy one I’d been dreading for years. Darn you, social media. I glared at the screen where someone had sent me an e-card with the dancing thirty balloons. And that’s all it took to make me wish I could go back in time just long enough to swap out my bagel for a donut. No, make that a dozen donuts. This was so not a mere one-donut situation. This was a catastrophe.

I was thirty years old, which might not have been such a big deal if it weren’t for the fact that I was also single. There was no way that wasn’t going to send me on a downward spiral. My uterus timer was beeping loudly in my ear, reminding me anxiously that there were only so many years left for me to pop out babies. As if I could have forgotten! 

I paused by a display of soft fleece baby blanket material and my eyes started to water. I’d always wanted children, but I certainly couldn’t make one alone. Where were all the good guys? All I knew was they weren’t hanging out at the craft store. Trust me, I’d spent more than my fair share of time looking.

I’d yet to bump into Prince Charming at the grocery store either. And therein lay the crux of my problem: I didn’t get out enough. If I had a normal job maybe I would already be married with half a dozen kids. But I loved working for myself and didn’t want to give up my dream job. Somehow, I needed to get out more and meet new people.

But when exactly was I supposed to make that happen? I didn’t have time to hunt down a man! I had to keep my business running. Otherwise, I couldn’t afford to buy essentials like hot glue sticks and Mod Podge, let alone groceries.

Sure, I’d tried a few dating apps, but the only men who’d bothered to click on my profile had been complete duds. I wasn’t so lonely that I was willing to settle for just anyone. Was it too much to expect some sparks and sizzles? Had I missed my window? Was it too late for love? 

I was getting more depressed by the second. Oh great, suddenly I wanted donuts and ice cream. Knowing my body, I’d probably gain five pounds just from thinking about ice cream, so I might as well give in and buy a few pints.

I finished up and checked out at the craft store. I may or may not have added a couple of candy bars into the mix at the last second. And I may or may not have eaten one in the car on the drive to the next store. Judge me if you will.

Next up on my crappy agenda was groceries. I got a terrible parking spot and tried to pretend it was a good thing because maybe it would help me burn off the extra cream cheese and the candy bar. Alright, I admit it, I ate the candy bar! Being a woman was exhausting. Every decision I made was wrong for one reason or another, and my mother and the rest of the world always seemed to be waiting on standby to point out my myriad faults.

I moved through the aisles of the grocery store like a mindless zombie. Except for the jumbo-sized toilet paper and Kleenex, I didn’t really pay much attention to what I added to the cart. My helpful Post-it notes sat in a useless wad in my giant purse. It was impossible to predict how I would react to food when I was depressed. I might binge on sweets or stop eating altogether. This was shaping up to be a sugar-fest.

I knocked a bunch of Weight Watchers TV dinners into my cart, trying to focus on the fact that I might be hungry tomorrow. The only reason I hadn’t fled for home was the fact that I didn’t want to have to go shopping again. I wheeled my cart over to the display case with the Weight Watchers desserts and tossed several of those in as well. I was already feeling remorse over the candy bar that was no doubt settling down to stay in my jumbo-sized thighs forever.

I slid my purchases up onto the conveyor belt and stared morosely at the bakery section from afar. I refused to buy myself a birthday cake. There was no way that wouldn’t blow up in my face. Either I’d attack the dessert all at once and risk my stomach exploding from the awful binge, or I’d wind up eating it slice by slice all by myself over the course of an entire week. Yeah, nothing like a depressing reminder displayed on my counter in case I forgot I was now officially in my thirties. That wasn’t going to happen.

I swiped my card and politely refused help out to my car because the mom in line behind me with the two toddlers needed assistance way more than I did. I was so jealous of the woman that I could almost understand what drove desperate people to kidnapping, not that I would ever have stooped to doing anything so despicable! But if I could have traded lives with her right then and there . . . well, I just might have considered it.

It was the day before garbage pick-up in my area, so I drove a little slower than I normally did, busily scanning the trash piles for any treasures, just waiting to be discovered. I was always looking for more raw materials to make my upcycled art pieces out of. Humble brag, I could make a rickety old end table look like a million bucks.

I was passing by a small strip mall when I saw something interesting poking out of the back of a dumpster. It was too big to be in there, whatever it was. I was practically tingling with anticipation.

I parked nearby and shot a quick video of the dumpster, voicing my various theories about what might be poking out the side. Whenever possible, I tried to include extra behind-the-scenes footage of me grabbing various junk out of dumpsters and off the curb. My fans had mentioned repeatedly how much they enjoyed being a part of the journey. Too bad I didn’t have a tripod with me or an assistant because then I could have captured a real-time segment of me pulling whatever it was out of the dumpster.

Satisfied with my footage, I returned to the car and put my phone back inside my massive purse. Then I looped it over one arm so that I wouldn’t have to return to the car for any tools after having already climbed up into the gross dumpster. On impulse, I stuffed the new container of duct tape and the rest of my most recent craft store purchases inside my purse.

Because of how frequently I went dumpster diving I kept a little step stool in my trunk for exactly that reason. I glanced down woefully at my pretty dress and regretted that I hadn’t worn something more practical. Sure, I could have just driven off and stayed clean, but what if I missed out on something spectacular?

I was especially ruing the fact that I hadn’t opted for the wet underwear option. Odds were, it would have dried out by now, and I would be a heck of a lot more decent if a strong breeze blew my dress up to my ears. But there was nothing I could do about any of that now.

Sure, I could have gone home and changed, but there was no guarantee that my mystery garbage treasure would still be there when I returned for it. I wasn’t the only person who saw value in trash. Nope, it had to be now! 

“Happy birthday to me,” I muttered as I took the first step up. I swung my other arm through my giant bag so that both my hands were free but also so I could still access my tools if I needed them. I tried to balance on the edge of the dumpster because, based on the smell of rot wafting out to greet me, I didn’t want to roll around in whatever was in there.

Then I held my breath; and, believe it or not, it was because I was excited, not because of the rank smell. I think I’ve already established that I’m a total nut job, so I won’t bother analyzing that further. Queue the celestial music; I was pretty sure I’d just found something I’d wanted for a very, very, very long time.

All I could see was the hint of a wooden wheel poking out from the mess of trash bags. I considered taking another short video, but my balance was a bit precarious, so I decided not to push it. I tried to brace my hand on the wall of the building, but it was too far away to be of any use.

I tried not to get my hopes up, but I failed. What if my wish came true? What if I actually had found myself an antique spinning wheel? Cleaned up and refurbished, I’d probably be able to profit upwards of $1000 on it. Of course, the potential value didn’t really matter because if that curved piece of wood poking out of the dumpster really was a spinning wheel, I had no intention of selling it. Like not ever.

No joke, I’d dreamed of owning a spinning wheel since I was ten years old. Yup, I was a craft nerd all the way back then, in the days before I knew what cellulite was. But they’re as pricey as a high-end sewing machine, so I’d never been able to justify the expenditure. That didn’t mean I still didn’t really, really want one though!

I tugged a couple of heavy trash bags away to free the wooden wheel. With every inch I exposed, my hopes rose a teeny smidge higher. I was growing impatient with my slow progress. My back and thighs were massively protesting all of the bending and squatting. With all the extra walking around the grocery store and squats, it was basically like I’d actually used the gym membership I paid for but never took advantage of.

As the burning in my thighs increased from seriously uncomfortable to downright agony, I knew I had to put an end to the physical torture. A sane individual would have just walked away. But at the risk of repeating myself, I’d just turned thirty and I’d wanted a spinning wheel for two decades, so defeat wasn’t an option.

I let go of my cautious perch, leaned forward, and gave the whole thing a big old tug. This succeeded in freeing the antique machine from the trash. I had just enough time to squeal, “It is a spinning wheel!” before I toppled backward off of the dumpster. I was too shocked to respond. I merely continued my white-knuckled grip on the wooden apparatus as I tumbled backward, my body flinching reflexively as I waited for the harsh slap of concrete against my frame. But the pain never came.

It was as though time was no longer governed by reality, and the fall stretched on and on interminably. I was enveloped in a hazy cloud of darkness, and I felt disoriented and dizzy as though all of the air had been sucked out of the atmosphere with a giant vacuum. Was I having some kind of trippy out-of-body experience? Too bad I hadn’t taken any fun hallucinogens to explain it.

For a brief moment I felt as though I was surrounded by an enormous bowl of Jell-O, and then the lights came back on, and I was able to breathe once more. I drew in a frantic gasp of air and let loose the loudest scream I’d ever uttered as the spinning wheel and I crashed down hard on top of a pink, moss-covered log. Where the heck had that come from? Was pink moss a real thing? I thought moss was green.

Where was the unrelenting smack of concrete as it split my head open like a melon? Why wasn’t I dead? I was still gripping the wooden wheel as I turned my eyes in a slow disbelieving circle. Nothing I saw made sense.

Gone was the dumpster and the back of the strip mall. There was no sign of my car. It was just me, my bag, and the antique spinning wheel in the midst of an enormous jungle the likes of which I’d never seen, not even on the nature channel. 

It wasn’t a normal jungle. It was like something out of a kid’s cartoon. All of the colors were wrong. None of the plants were shaped like anything I recognized or could name. It was really, really weird and I began to question just how hard I’d hit my head. Was my brain oozing out onto the concrete? Was I dying?

There were also several old garbage bags littering the area, like someone had aimed for the dumpster and missed. Some of them looked like they’d been there a very long time. The plastic was sun-faded and several of the bags had been torn open, presumably by wild animals. Why were there trash bags if the dumpster was gone?

Before I had time to analyze things further, a loud hiss captured my attention. I spun to stare in wide-eyed terror at the alien creature before me. 

“What the heck is that?”

CHAPTER TWO

CHRISTINA

I’d never seen anything like the creature before me, but it didn’t take a degree in animal sciences for me to discern that it wasn’t friendly. I had a sinking suspicion that it would have liked nothing more than to have me for dessert. I was trying frantically to remember if I had a candy bar in my purse, or if I’d left that in my car. Because, seriously, who doesn’t love chocolate?

It was crouched down on all fours. It was muscular and looked as though it had a prehistoric origin. Its hide was a purplish gray and textured with strange, armored bumps like a dinosaur. Unlike Barney, I doubted this big old dinosaur wanted to give me a hug and sing songs. Its eyes were a creepy red, but it was the mouth full of jagged teeth that really scared me. It had a long thick tail with jagged spikes on the tip.

My eyes darted around wildly, but it was like I was trapped in some kind of crazy stoner dream. To my right was a purple lake and the plants growing out of it represented every color of the rainbow. Something dark red slithered by my side and it looked like an upside-down jellyfish with tentacles and a glowing nebulous exoskeleton. The dinosaur creature let loose a dry hiss. I blinked my eyes and willed myself to wake up. 

“This is a dream,” I said, as I stared down my own personal nightmare come true. I heard a strange clicking sound from behind me and that’s when I realized that “Barney the evil dinosaur” had friends, five of them to be precise. “That’s Super-dee-duper!” I muttered sarcastically.

 I would have been terrified if I hadn’t already moved on to my new coping strategy. Through sheer blind stubbornness, I had managed to convince myself that nothing I was witnessing was real. This was all just a dream, likely due to indigestion. I never should have eaten that candy bar. In addition to all the evil carbs, it was probably expired!

I was humming the Barney theme song as I made up my own lyrics. “Barney is a dinosaur from my imagination. But he’s not here, I hit my head, and I have a concussion.” I’d always thought it was so dumb how they’d just ripped off the Yankee Doodle melody. Then again, there was nothing original about that show.

I definitely was not anticipating a future career as a singer-songwriter. However, given the fact that this was the most vivid nightmare I’d ever had, I wanted to commemorate the experience. Painting had never been my favorite medium, but I was going to have to give it another whirl whenever I woke up from my nightmare. I added some blank canvases to my mental shopping list. I couldn’t decide between watercolors and oils. Both mediums had their merits. 

Evil Barney and his friends continued edging closer, and I reminded myself once more that they were nothing more than a figment of my imagination. Dinosaurs were extinct. There was nothing to get worked up about. Of course, my body didn’t seem to agree and the hair on my arms began to stand on edge.

A giant, spikey tail whipped past me, and for a moment it was all surreal. Then came the pain. When I felt the hot, acidic burn eating through my thigh I released a blood-curdling scream. Dreams weren’t supposed to hurt!

I was in freaking agony. Like a twenty on a ten-point pain scale. I couldn’t pretend anymore. As impossible as it might seem, I was facing off with a pack of monstrous prehistoric beasts and they were vicious. Had I somehow stumbled onto the set for Jurassic Park? Weren’t all the monsters supposed to be CGI?

Scant hours before I’d been melting down over hitting the big three-0, but in hindsight that was a cakewalk. I’d come face to face with my own mortality. I was going to die. Talk about the worst birthday ever! I wondered who they would get to write my obituary. I hoped they focused on my YouTube channel and not on my depressing spinster status.

If I could have, I would have raced straight into my mother’s judgmental arms. Hearing her tell me what a failure I was would have been heaven compared to how my day was shaping up. But knowing her, she probably would have just stood there and watched me get gored by the dinosaur monsters. Maternal instincts didn’t come naturally to her.

She still hadn’t forgiven me for thwarting her attempts to marry me off to the fifty-year-old pig farmer from her church. Even with my massive self-esteem issues, I felt I could do better. He was balding, and his pot belly was so big that all of his stained button-up shirts strained across his bloated midsection. Then there was the thought of having to live surrounded by the unrelenting smell of pig crap! I wasn’t that desperate . . . yet.

A sound from behind me cut me out of my day-dream stupor. Evil Barney was preparing to strike once more. Incredulity arched my brows as I spun around to keep the creature from cutting me again with his razor-sharp tail. I’m far from athletic, so at the risk of sounding redundant let me just state for the record that I’m not in great shape. Sure, I had a gym membership, but it’d been a heck of a long time since I’d swiped my card. Even when I did go, I mainly lazed in the sauna or walked slowly on a treadmill while listening to romantic audiobooks. So why was I still kidding myself that I might somehow be able to outrun the pack of prehistoric monsters?

That left me with only one alternative. I was going to stand my ground and fight like my life depended on it. That wasn’t going to take a lot of imagination, because it was obvious that my life did depend on it. I braced my weight on my good leg and took a deep breath because that seemed like the right thing to do.

The spinning wheel wouldn’t have been my first choice of weapon, but it was the only one on hand, so I thrust it out in front of me. Maybe if I got really lucky, I’d manage to stab one of them with the pointy spindle part. If I was even luckier, it would turn out that this was actually Sleeping Beauty’s spinning wheel, with the spindle having been cursed by Maleficent. The pathetic thing is that I was so delusional by that point I was actually hoping that might be possible.

The prehistoric-looking creatures continued to creep closer. As the terrifying circle of monsters around me shrank inward, I knew my time was about to run out. I couldn’t help but feel miffed about dying on my birthday. Suddenly I regretted not buying the cake. But even more, I regretted the fact that no one would really miss me. My mother and I weren’t close. I was certain that she would find someone else to ridicule when I failed to check in for our bi-weekly phone call.

 There were so many things I hadn’t gotten to do. I’d really wanted to be a mom. Deep down I’d always thought that somehow, some way I would still manage to stumble across Mr. Right in time to pump out a baby or two. Defeat began to pull me down into a depressive spiral. That, added to the pain in my leg, was enough to bring a flood of tears to my eyes. I blinked to clear my vision.

And then a deafening sound shattered the weighty silence. It was too primal to call it a yell, too powerful to label it a scream. I turned my head toward where the noise had originated and took a step in that direction.

Walking was a mistake. The moment I moved my leg, it protested so violently that it felt as though I’d been burned all over again. My skin felt like it was on fire, with the powerful poison rapidly working its way through my system. I was also beginning to feel a tad bit loopy. Was I tripping on some kind of drugs?

A man dropped down from a tree above me. He was naked except for an itty-bitty scrap of leather that I suppose you could call a loincloth. I was definitely hallucinating because his skin was all blue. It wasn’t Halloween. Was he all decked out in cosplay gear for some kind of convention? Or did he really have white eyes that didn’t seem to have a pupil or an iris? Couldn’t I even have normal fantasies? Seriously, what was wrong with me?

His torso was so muscular that he would have made professional bodybuilders weep. I was instantly attracted to him, which was insane because I’d never reacted to a man like that. Not ever. And this man, well, I wasn’t entirely sure he was even human. If there were scary dinosaur monsters couldn’t there be aliens too?

My leg was seeping something nasty and I didn’t care enough to look down and verify if it was puss or blood. I pressed the back of my hand to my head only to discover that it was slick with perspiration. Great, I was feverish and dizzy. Evidently, I was completely lacking in survival instincts because instead of coming up with an escape plan, I was trying to remember if I’d put on makeup or not. I wanted him to think I was beautiful, or at least not a total dog.

The blue Tarzan wannabe bellowed another fierce battle cry. A shudder went through my body. I was a tiny bit afraid, and a massive bit turned on. I wanted to blame the poison coursing through my system, but I hated lying to myself. Besides, doesn’t every woman want to be rescued by a dashing stranger?

I was so distracted by the blue hottie that I didn’t actually see what happened next. But I felt it. I felt every bit of the white, blinding, excruciating pain. And then, there was no more pain because whatever poison laced Evil Barney’s tail had dragged me down to oblivion. I crumpled to the ground in a graceless heap. Did I look beautiful with my favorite dress fanned out all around me? Or were my thighs showing?

TROG

The lush jungle stretched out all around me. Within it held everything I needed to survive, all I had to do was go hunt for it. I swiped a hand across my light blue skin to shoo away a pesky bug. I did not wish for the insect to fill its belly with my lifeblood. I took in my surroundings carefully.

It was here that I felt most at home, surrounded by the dense canopy of trees. The jungle’s heartbeat danced in sync with my own. I was out checking my traps, something that required little effort on my part. I’d mastered the skill when I was a young boy. A hunter’s life was simple, if lonely at times.

A high-pitched scream shattered the silence. A large flock of quazdor birds launched into the air, their vibrant green wings pumping wildly as they abandoned their nests in the large pink mushroom trees. Their loud cacaws seemed to mimic the sound of the scream, which rang out once more in the distance.

The distinctly female scream sounded again, and this time there was a sense of urgency.  Something primal stirred within me. The need to protect. What if it was a trap? I hesitated briefly, torn between the need for caution and the raw force inside me that demanded I protect the female at all costs.

Only a coward would ignore that sound, and I was no coward. I took off with a burst of speed, my legs falling into a loping gait. I raced in the direction of the female. It was as though I was propelled by some unseen force, as though the spirit of the jungle was guiding me.

I leaped over fallen logs and scaled whatever obstacles I could not leap. I moved faster and faster, yet feared I would fail to arrive in time. I climbed one of the large mushroom trees, grabbed a vine, and swung. I dropped into the sun-dappled clearing and my eyes widened in shock. At the center of the clearing stood a creature the likes of which I had never before seen. I had not known hair could be that color. It was like a cascade of liquid fire, spilling across her nape and down her shoulders.

Her skin was a pale cream, and likely as soft as a narfin’s hide. Her vibrant green eyes were twin emeralds, shining with fierce determination. There was a strange hump jutting out of her back, but I did not mind it, strange though it was. There were brightly colored hides swirling about her legs, and I could see more of that pale cream flesh through a hole in the side.

 Battle lust thrummed through my veins. I wanted to rush to her side instantly. But there was a very real obstacle lying between us. She was completely surrounded by barvoks. They were one of the more serious threats in the jungle. However, I’d faced them before and would likely do so again before I turned to dust and became one with the spirit of the jungle. 

It was a large pack of barvoks. I easily counted six of the creatures, which meant more of them would be hiding somewhere out of sight. Barvok packs always attacked together, which was partly why they were so deadly. They should have fled the moment I arrived, but they did not want to release their prey. They must have been very hungry to risk battling me. They would not sate their hunger, not this day, and not with my female. 

The air hummed with tension. The spirit of the jungle sensed the impending battle, but I was confident she would side with me. I roared as I leaped upon the beast nearest me, my stone knife gripped tightly in my hand. My actions were reckless, and I knew it. But I was powerless to resist the female’s call. From the moment I laid eyes on the strange, pale creature with the fiery red hair there was no questioning it . . . she was mine.

I heard the distinctive hiss of a barvok just behind me. I dropped and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being slashed with the poisonous tip of its tail. Having dispatched the second beast, I darted a glance towards my female. Our eyes met, hers widening in alarm.

There was no time to reassure her with words, so I sent her a silent vow. I am coming for you. You are safe, my precious life-mate. No harm will come to you while I still live.

The next two barvoks rushed me in a coordinated attack. I jumped, barely dodging their venomous tails. The rest of the pack converged upon me. Their tails slicing through the air with wicked skill. But I was faster than they were, and I had a motivation that far outweighed mere hunger. I’d waited forever for my life-mate, and I wasn’t about to lose her now.

One by one I felled the beasts, their massive bodies thudding loudly as they dropped to the jungle floor. Until at last, only one remained. The barvok let loose an anguished hiss and we locked eyes. For a moment I thought the creature would back down and flee, but it didn’t

I longed to go to my female’s side, but first I had to dispatch the last beast. We danced the dance of battle. Our movements flowed gracefully together. This was no surprise. Had not the spirit of the jungle given birth to us both?

This barvok was a natural leader, and much larger than the other members of his pack. There were old cracks like scars in his hard shell from past battles. I looked down at my bone knife, fearing it might not be up to the challenge. I reached for a nearby vine and began to run, kicking off with my feet. I soared through the air, moving swiftly.

Barvoks were designed for strength, not speed. It tried to dart away. I plunged my knife deep into its neck, careful to avoid the armored ridges. I relinquished the blade as I continued to fly through the air. I dropped to the ground and rolled, landing at the feet of my female. I glanced at the beast just long enough to witness its death shudder before turning back to give my full attention to my beautiful female.

I opened my mouth eagerly, tripping over my tongue like an awkward youth as I rushed to introduce myself. That’s when I discovered that she was no longer conscious. I growled when I discovered that my female’s leg was bleeding. She’d fallen victim to the poisonous barbs tipping the barvoks’ tails. She lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, her coverings spread out around her in a pool of vibrant colors.

I needed to tend to her wounds, and I needed to do so quickly. I moved to pick her up and paused. She was curled around a strange collection of objects. I could only assume that whatever they were, they were of great value to her. I did my best to gather them all up to bring them along. I threaded a bit of rope through one of the many holes in the large wooden object and slung it effortlessly over my shoulder. I had never seen such strange and wondrous things as my female possessed. I looked forward to studying them closely at a later time.

My curiosity for her belongings was nothing compared to my interest in her. I ran a finger across the delicate arch of her cheekbone and wished I had time to admire her beauty further. But I knew I must hurry to move her. Staying put wasn’t safe. I wouldn’t have been the only one to hear her screams. Other predators might be hunting for her.

I pulled her into my arms, examining her wounds briefly. She was bleeding from where she’d been mauled by the barvoks. That explained why she was unconscious. I felt a chill deep inside me. Without the proper treatment, barvok venom was fatal. No. I would not lose her. I would see to it that she was properly tended to. My life-mate would live, and I would spend the rest of my days admiring her fiery tresses and her wondrous cream-colored skin.

 I made swift strides in the direction of my home. All the while, I kept my eyes peeled for a fargen bush. I would need its leaves to make a poultice to draw the poison from her skin. Perspiration beaded along her brow, alerting me to the fever raging within. I bared my teeth in anger, wishing I could slaughter the barvoks all over again.

She was mine, yet I didn't even know her name. Something told me it would be lovely, as lovely as she was. I knew that the spirit of the jungle had led me to her. She was my life-mate. I would not lose her, not now that I had finally found her.

I spied a fargen bush. Fortunately, its bright orange foliage made it stand out. I hurried to strip several fronds from the plant. Knowing I would need my free hand to climb up to my home, I improvised. There was an intriguing gap at the top of her strange, white chest covering. This was something I planned on studying more closely at a later time. But that would have to wait until I was certain she was safe.

I wedged the orange fronds in the tempting gap and pushed them down far enough that I needn’t worry that they would fall right back out. I gripped her tightly to my side and made my way carefully up the broken tree limb that served as the initial step to my home.

My dwelling was at the top of a large sturdy tree, and I was lucky to have it, for it kept me safe from the dangerous creatures below. The large pink mushroom cap protected me from the rain, and I had built up a structure to keep the worst of the winds from blowing in as well. I reached for a vine and tested it before trusting our combined weight to it. It would do nicely.

I swung across the expanse and maneuvered the rest of the way to my home. It was harder to do with my arms full, but I would not drop my most coveted of prizes. I poised at the threshold of my home, finding my balance and stepping forward before releasing the vine. I laid her down gently on my bed of furs.

The strange hump on her back put her at an uncomfortable-looking angle. This puzzled me. On closer inspection, I began to doubt that the strange hump was actually attached to her body. I tugged at the leather strings until at last, I managed to free her arms and extricate her from the large hump. I set the hump to the side, not understanding what it was.

I was relieved that with it gone she was now able to lay down flat. She wasn’t moving. I refused to consider that it might be too late to save her. The dark thought was untenable. She would live, and we would share many, many spans of the moon together.

At long last, I had found my mate, and I would not relinquish her, not even to the spirit of the jungle. I unslung the strange wooden contraption and set it down. Then I crouched down beside her and studied the fascinating garment covering her limbs. I needed to remove it so I could tend to her wounds. But I did not understand how it worked. Everything about her was equal parts strange and wondrous.

The colorful skins rose a little when I laid her down, and I was encouraged by the bit of ankle I could see poking out from below the fascinating colorful hide she wore. If I could see her pale flesh, then surely the covering was not part of her actual body!

I began to tug the covering up slowly, just as I had worked to remove the strange hump on her back. I was hopelessly entranced as I revealed more and more of her cream-colored body. I did so one small span at a time, scarcely remembering to breathe as I studied her pale perfection.

Her legs were much shorter than mine, and the plump curves were breathtaking. Her pale skin was indeed as smooth as a narfin’s hide and it was all I could do to refrain from caressing her to see if she felt as soft everywhere else on her body. When I reached the nasty gash on her thigh I hissed wildly, grieved by the sight.

Immediately, I shoved a leaf from the orange plant in my mouth and chewed vigorously. Fargen fronds tasted disgusting. However, she was well worth the discomfort. I spat the paste out into my hand and smeared it carefully across her injury. I felt guilty when I found myself once again distracted by the beauty of her shapely limbs.

The physical contact should have been innocent. But I had lived alone for so long, too long. I had long since despaired of ever finding my life-mate.  Now I’d found her, and I wanted to worship her body, but I would not touch her until she was awake and asking for it.

I pressed a hand to her brow. Her skin was on fire. That was a serious symptom, and I knew I had to break her fever. I hurried to tug the rest of the strange covering from her body and then tossed it off to the side. This revealed more scratches on her side. They weren’t nearly as deep as the cut in her leg, but I applied more paste just to be safe.

I drizzled a bit of water into her mouth, and she sputtered at first before swallowing. I repeated the gesture a few more times and then I rocked back on my heels, unsure of what to do next. I briefly considered pulling the strange skin back over her head.

I told myself she was feverish, and I needed her to be as cool as possible. But I will not deny that I wished to admire her beautiful form at my leisure. There was no part of her body that did not interest me.

The day gave way to night, and hunger stirred my belly. I did not want to leave her side in order to forage. I feared that she would wake without me and be frightened. I nibbled on some dried sarblo fruit and took comfort in watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

I could not remember another time when my mind was so full of possibilities. I began to map out a plan for the next day. I would need to gather twice as much food as I normally did. Then again, she was much smaller than me, so perhaps she wouldn’t require as much to eat.

No. I would gather even more food than I typically would for myself. I didn’t want her to experience hunger. I would prove my willingness to work as hard as I needed to in order to provide for my mate. She would want for nothing.

The hours passed, and once I felt for certain that she would not perish from her injuries I allowed myself some much-needed rest. I laid down next to her and slowed my breaths until I too slumbered. All my thoughts and dreams were of her.

I slept only a brief while because there was too much to do to rest for long. I arose filled with excitement and a new feeling of purpose in my life. I pressed a hand to her brow and was relieved to note that her skin had cooled significantly. The fargen fronds were successfully neutralizing the poison.

After assuring myself that she still slept soundly, I left to hunt. Although I was loath to leave her side, I felt a greater urge to provide her with nourishment when she awoke. I moved quietly so as not to wake her, taking a long moment to soak in her beauty before I swung onto the nearest vine and began my descent to the ground.

I would hunt her a nice fat ozzpullo beast. The tasty meat would please her and make her strong. My mind skipped ahead to the coming future with pride. My female would welcome me with open arms. We would mate, and her waist would grow thick with our young. I smiled. Had the spirit of the jungle ever been so generous to another male?