Another True Story

It's been a while since I last posted a story. I'm sorry. The good news is, I have written several since the last one went up. Here's the most recent one. It is one hundred percent true.


It was a Tuesday. You know Tuesday? It’s that innocent day sandwiched between Monday, a day that working people dread, and Wednesday, hump day, the day that the week starts moving toward a new weekend, a day of hope. Thursday is the second longest day of the week. The high of hope from Wednesday has worn off and jobholders know that they still have to get through all of Friday, let alone the rest of Thursday before they’re free. Friday is the sprint to the finish. The weekend is nigh! But Tuesday? Not much of note happens on a Tuesday, it’s just a day to fill out the week. This Tuesday was no exception.
It began normally for Mack. Her mother and stepfather left for work in the morning, just another Tuesday. This left Mack as the reigning adult of the house, although her sister, Stevie, was only a year younger. Stevie, however, took full advantage of not being the responsible older sibling. Also in the house were Aubs, the 8-year-old from hell a.k.a. the queen of mischief, and lastly, the monkey. No, not a literal monkey, that would be odd, and there’s enough oddity in this true story already. The monkey was simply what everyone called the baby boy.

             The morning progressed normally: the monkey cried until he was fed. He then promptly fell asleep, face in food. Mack decided against waking him. The pureed peas would make for a nice snack when the monkey woke up.

             Aubs drew family portraits on the wall with crayons. Family members were labeled with ballpoint pen for clarity.

Stevie juggled her soccer ball in the backyard while listening to 90’s rap, occasionally taking a break to chat to friends on the phone.

Mack took advantage of the brief interval of relative quiet to study. Descartes wasn’t going to read himself ergo Mack had to. She kept an eye on the monkey while she studied, waiting for a sign of life from the green smear in the high chair.

Tuesday was moving along smoothly, as Tuesdays usually do.

Lunch: grilled cheese with carrots for Aubs and Mack. Stevie went out with friends to get burritos. The monkey spread applesauce and mushed eggplant around his face, occasionally getting some in his mouth.

             A brief flurry of energy after lunch. Aubs jumped on the couch and sang her favorite songs at full volume. Mack took the monkey out of the high chair for the first time in hours. He rolled around on the floor and drooled. Mack supervised and checked her phone.

She had gotten a phone number the day before. Not just any phone number, but the phone number of a boy. Well, a man, technically, but definitely a male, which was what counted. They had texted and chatted the day before and it seemed like things were going well. Actually, they were going great. She expected him to ask her out at any time. She checked her phone again. Nothing yet, radio silence. Actually, total silence. Where was Aubs?

“Aubs?” Mack glanced around. “Where are you?” Even when Aubs was beyond visual range she could usually be tracked by sound.

Mack picked up the monkey and began to wander the house, not truly worried, but curious.

“You better not be in Stevie’s room again, you know she doesn’t like you in there!” But when Mack leaned in through Stevie’s door she found the room empty. Nothing was out of place. Well, everything was out of place, but there was no clear Aubs trail. Mack checked her phone. Still no word from the boy, so she continued the search.

With the monkey’s help Mack methodically checked under the beds, in the closets, in the bathtub, even shined a light in the attic, but no Aubs anywhere. Nor had she heard a peep. Silence reigned throughout the house, broken only by the gurgling of the monkey who lolled about in Mack’s arms. He was as heavy and as easy to carry as a sack of potatoes.

Perplexed, Mack walked out the back door. The building behind the house used to be a workshop, but her mother and stepfather had let her convert it into a studio apartment for herself. It was her sanctuary, the only kid-free zone on the property. Aubs knew better than to trespass. Surely she wouldn’t have—the door stood ajar.

The breach of etiquette stunned Mack. She stood looking at her own door, the monkey squirming and drooling, somehow not falling from her arms as she stood staring, mouth actually agape. The surprise passed and then Mack was storming through her own door, ready to open a can.

            "Aubs, I swear to god, I’m going to—” but no further words escaped Mack’s throat. Something large and lumpy sat there as she took in the scene.

Aubs, her 8-year-old body looking smaller than normal, lay on the floor, bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Pillows and books were scattered everywhere. The desk drawers were all open, papers wilting over the edges. Her chair was upside down and on the wrong side of the room, clearly thrown there in a struggle. Mack’s eyes took everything in, horrified.

“Aubs?” Mack said meekly and started towards her little sister.

“Stop there!” A voice rang out. Mack froze. Aubs began writhing and making pitiful moans through the gag. Mack’s heart strained for her sister, the anger she had felt only seconds before had already melted away, terror took it’s place. There was movement from the loft. Mack looked up. Jake Gyllenhaal looked down on her.

“Put all of your money in here if you want your sister to live,” Jake said. But the voice was muffled and the lips never moved. Mack realized that it was a mask and Jake Gyllenhaal was not in her loft. Her brain registered disappointment.
A pillowcase floated down from the loft. It landed in a crumpled pile next to Aubs who suddenly started thrashing and convulsing. Mack moved towards her sister on the floor, concern plain on her face.

“Whoa, now, careful!” the voice, though muffled by the mask, seemed oddly high-pitched. Mack looked up again. This time she saw the gun. Only the barrel showed because it was pointed directly at her face. “The money. Please.”

Mack didn’t believe in banks. The economic crisis that had destroyed Greece took her father’s savings down with it (He was full-blooded Greek and had all of his money tied up in funds in his home country. “Greece has been a country forever, and always will be. It’s too chancy to invest in a new country like America!” he used to say). So Mack had a jar, several in fact. When she wasn’t busy being the adult for her siblings or studying, Mack actually had a successful budding Hollywood career. It was entirely possible Jake would make it into her loft someday… Oh, but the money! She had been saving for years, dreaming of a sailboat. The jars were hidden separately throughout her studio. If she had learned one thing from her father it was to not put all of her money in the same place.

“Hurry up now, for her sake,” Jake’s plastic, unmoving face said. The gun moved to Aubs. Mack was still frozen, mesmerized by the weapon.

The gun looked different than it did in the movies, but this was real life after all. It looked light; Jake held it in one hand and waved it around effortlessly. Jake must be strong. The gun was black like it always was in the movies. This one was orange, with green highlights. It did glisten though, as though it was wet. Unable to look away or make a move to retrieve a single jar, Mack continued to stare at the gun. Something tickled in the back of her brain. A drop of water began to collect at the bottom of the barrel of the gun.

The monkey burped and farted simultaneously. It was like a bomb went off in the room.

“Bang!” Jake shouted. A stream of water jetted from the pistol and sprayed all over Aubs on the floor. Laughter filled the air as Mack stared at her little sister on the floor. Aubs reached up, hands still bound, and removed the blindfold and gag. She was grinning widely.

The laughter from the loft became maniacal. Mack looked up to see Jake’s face sitting on Stevie’s forehead. Her sister couldn’t contain herself.

“Be careful, Stevie, don’t fall from up there,” Mack said, adult mode turning on briefly, then, “And get out of here, both of you! You know you’re not supposed to be in here, this is my house!”

Stevie sprayed water all over Aubs and Mack with the squirt gun as she climbed down from the loft. The monkey tried to catch the water in his mouth.

“Hmmm,” said Aubs. With a completely serious look on her face she sniffed the air. “It smells like cat food, doesn’t it?”

Mack looked at the monkey in her arms and couldn’t suppress a smirk. It did, in fact, smell like cat food. What a stinky baby.

“Hey, did that guy ask you out yet?” asked Stevie. She tucked the squirt gun into the waist of her jeans.

“No,” sighed Mack. “Nothing yet.”
Stevie took a breath, about to launch into a familiar dissertation on the shortcomings of the male species, but Aubs spoke first.
“Guys, what’s that?” Still on the floor, she was facing the door. Tendrils of pale purple smoke were winding into the room. Stevie was out the door with a few steps, Mack right behind her.

The purple haze filled the air in clouds, thicker here, thinner there. Faint flashes of light lit different areas like faint lightning. The house, not even fifty feet away, was completely obscured.
Aubs hopped through the door, hands and feet still tied up in jump ropes, and pushed between her older sisters. The atmosphere felt heavy and hot as if there was water  in the air, but the humidity was lower, if anything. The lightning intensified, silently, as the clouds coalesced into dark shapes. As if from a distance, the girls could hear hoof beats.

From deep within the roiling purple clouds clattered a pair of horses. Heads rearing, snorting, lightning flashed about their ears. Behind them appeared a chariot carrying two Roman soldiers. One held the reins, the other an enormous shield and a spear. Both wore armor and helmets over bulging muscles.

“Ho!” The horses came to a stop. The clouds turned to mist and began to melt slowly into the grass. The soldiers glared down imperiously from the chariot. The horses pawed at the lawn. Mack, Stevie, and Aubs stared back in amazement. The monkey drooled.

The stalemate might have lasted forever, unbroken but for the monkey, who was blissfully unaware, and the horses, who seemed eager to continue their journey. Except Mack’s phone began to ring.

The Roman who held the reins lifted an eyebrow and extended his arm, palm up.

Mack pulled her phone from her pocket with one hand, balancing the monkey in her other arm. She looked at the screen. The boy was calling. The man. The—the Roman cleared his throat and looked pointedly at the phone, which was still ringing. The soldier with the spear was no longer grinning. Mack stepped forward and placed her ringing phone in the open hand before her. Atop the chariot and rippling with muscle, the Roman was easily the largest human Mack had ever seen.

Without removing his gaze from Mack, the Roman handed the phone, which continued to demand to be answered, over his shoulder to his companion. The soldier, just as huge as the chariot driver, let the butt of his spear thunk to the floor of the vehicle and leaned the weapon against his shoulder. He then grasped the phone. It looked like a tiny child’s toy in his hand.

As the charioteer fixed his gaze on the three girls, the soldier inserted the phone, which had just gone silent, into a slot in the side of the chariot. The horses snorted. The monkey gurgled.

The charioteer broke his gaze. Mack was able to see that under the reins was a panel. The Roman flipped a switch, turned a knob, then passed over a purple button and pressed a green one. The soldier gripped his spear again and looked forward. The driver flipped the reins and shouted.

“Ha!” A green mist was rising from the grass, billowing up in some places. Flashes of green light emanated from the chariot as the horses reared up. They took off at incredible speed. They were aimed directly for the house, but as before the green fog was too thick for the girls to see the collision.

But the crash never came. Just as the purple smoke had faded out, so did the green fog. The girls found themselves standing in the backyard staring at their own house. There was no sign that the Romans, their chariot, or their horses had ever been there.

They looked at each other silently. The monkey farted and they all laughed.

“Still smells like cat food,” said Stevie.

“I’m hungry,” said Aubs. 
And, just as they would any Tuesday, that un-unusual of days, that most mundane of days, they trooped back into the house in search of snacks and juice.