A Hunter's Touch

I knelt on the floor and dug with my fingers. Someone had definitely been digging in this spot a few days prior. Before long, my hand hit something hard and smooth. I pulled it out of the dirt and brushed it off--a small wooden box.

Inside the box were three things: A tiny ebony comb with a flower carved into it, likely quite valuable in modern times, one green satin shoe, quite beautiful but covered in blood, and my Trigger.

My mind raced. Why would the Hunter keep my Trigger in this box? Where did he find it? But most importantly: I could go home now!

All thoughts were erased when I noticed a long red hair woven into the comb. I pulled it and it came loose. It was a lovely coppery color. His wife's hair.

I examined the shoe. It was tiny. Her feet were much smaller than mine. She must have been beautiful--long, red hair; a delicate, spritely frame; glowing, milky white skin; big, green, luminous eyes that enchanted everyone who saw her.

I envisioned her sitting beside the fire, working diligently at the tiny stitches on her dresses as the Hunter looked on with love and devotion. Laughing when the Hunter came home with a stained tunic, stripping it off his shoulders to wash, caressing his arms as he laid her down on the bed to make love.

I felt sick.

I replaced the shoe and the comb and buried the box, the Trigger on the floor beside me. It served as a reminder of where I belonged. I couldn't be this man's new wife. I didn't belong here.

I am not sure why I took the time to write all this before heading home. Maybe I wanted him to wake up and stop me. Maybe I just wanted to get it all down on the page. Maybe I'm too heartbroken to move. I'm not sure if I'm more heartbroken for myself or for him.

I guess I'll get going now.

I couldn't leave without saying goodbye.

As I finished writing my last entry, I turned to see the Hunter sitting up in bed. He was rubbing his eyes and squinting, and for all his muscles and sun-weathered skin he looked like a child waking up from a nap.

"What are you doing?" His voice was sharp, and his body stiffened as he saw that I held the Trigger in my hand. I stupidly shoved it behind my back.

"Nothing," was my brilliant reply.

The Hunter was on his feet in an instant, but he didn't want my Trigger. He rushed to the hole in the floor, knocking me into the now cold wood-burning stove.

"How did you know it was there?" He said in a strangled voice as I pulled myself to my feet and brushed away the soot.

"Why was it there in the first place?" I crossed my arms and tried to look as though I wasn't worried he might strangle me.

He dug the box up from its grave and held it as he stood, towering over me with eyes that burned. I couldn't meet their intensity, so I stared at the floor like a coward.

"It's none of your concern." He stalked back to his bed. I got a flash of the sleepy child again as he crawled under his quilt and turned away from me. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to steal my wife's comb and give it to your rich old man."

That hurt. I felt myself shrink.

"Well you stole my Trigger!" I said. Why didn't you hand it to me in the pouch when you first found me?"

"Because it wasn't inside the pouch," he said. "I thought it was some centaur weapon, so I kept it with me. I didn't put it in the box until you said it was yours."

"Why didn't you give it to me then?" I said. I was getting angry. "Did you think it was valuable, so you decided to keep it?"

"Of course not! I just didn't want you to leave yet! You would have just been captured by the centaurs again and I'd have to save you all over!"

"What, captured by the centaurs after returning to my own universe where they don't exist?" I shot back.

He seemed stuck. "I don't know why you have to go digging through my things! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you wanted to rob me and take everything of mine back to your universe while I'm asleep!"

"I would never do that, I said. "I love you too much." The words left my lips before I knew I was thinking them. Once I realized what I'd said, it was too late to swallow them

He said nothing, only huddled there for a moment, then turned back to me.

"You said that you need that Trigger so that you can return home. Why do you have to do that?"

He got up and approached me, eyes toward the floor.

"I--I just do," I said. He wouldn't look at me. We were less than an inch apart. So close. I could see those little golden hairs in the scruffiness along his jawline. I wanted to kiss them again. Before I could say anything else, he surprised me.

"You're the first sunshine I've seen in a long, long time," he said softly. He touched my cheek with the tips of his fingers. I felt everything inside my body liquefy, turned to warm cocoa.

"I can't stay," I whispered. "I don't belong here." His face hardened. Tears in his eyes.

"Come with me," I said. "You don't belong here, either." He looked at me strangely.

"You can live with me in my little apartment. I can teach you to read and write. You can travel with me, see all the worlds in the universe!"

He stepped back.

"I can't do that," he said. "I don't know how."

"I'll teach you! There's nothing for you here. And there's so much more to see. Please come with me. Be with me."

I begged him for a while. There's no use going over it any more. It hurts too much. Because he said no.

When I left, he was sitting on his bed holding his wife's shoe in his hand. I didn't start to cry until I'd shut the door behind me.

-

The only thing that kept my feet moving away from his cottage and toward the little hillock in the distance was pride. I had always had too much pride for my own good, but this was the moment I realized it. Every fiber of my being wanted to stop and return to him. But I did not. I will regret it for the rest of my life.

Why do I fall in love with people who cannot give themselves to me wholly? I throw myself at their feet, expecting for them to return the gesture. They never do. And who could blame them? I am a fool.

I hadn't gotten far when I heard hooves.

Something inside me said, go up! I climbed a lot of trees in my life growing up on the farm, so I shimmied up the branches of the closest one I could find.

But it was too late. They smelled me and circled the base of the tree--five centaurs, two of whom were Magdolon's buddies.

"What do you think, Jorel?" said the biggest and nastiest of the bunch. "Who gets first round?"

"I say the one who catches her gets her," Jorel said, grinning up at me. He pulled a rope from a bag strung across his shoulders and whipped it around his head. It flew through the air and caught my ankle.

Did I just get lassoed by a centaur?

The answer was yes. I barely had time to yelp before Jorel yanked me from the tree and caught me over his shoulder.

His centaur buddies cheered as they tore the Hunter's tunic from my body. Jorel held my hands behind my back and bounced me on his shoulder, laughing. He bit at my buttocks and stuck his finger crudely inside me. I screamed, but one of the centaurs stuck a cloth inside my mouth and tied it around my head.

"We won't have you being rescued this time," Jorel said. "I'm doing this for Magdolon!"

"You're doing this for your cock!" one of the centaurs exclaimed, and they all collapsed into laughter that drowned out my smothered moans.

"Everyone step back, she's mine first. Then you can do whatever you wish," Jorel said. He dropped me on the ground on my back. I squirmed to sit up, but he flipped me over and held onto my hands.

He licked me between the shoulder blades and laughed.

"Stop struggling, love. You'll hurt yourself. And I want to be the one to hurt you," he whispered.

"Hey, wait," the big, nasty centaur said. He had a long black beard. His horse parts were already hard and very big. I screamed into my gag as he pushed Jorel aside and grabbed my waist.

"I should have her first because I discovered Magdolon's body in his shallow grave. We wouldn't have known where to find her if I hadn't done that."

He bent forward and bit my nipple--hard! I squirmed but two other centaurs helped him lift me up so he could lick and suck at my clit.

"Get off!" Jorel pushed the big centaur, who lost his balance and fell over. "She's mine!"

"Well maybe I should have her first," a dopey centaur said. "It was my idea to wait for her here. And I'll be the one to kill that woodsman who stole her!"

He grabbed at me and pushed me to the ground, then mounted me and tried to put his throbbing dick inside me as I struggled. Jorel grabbed him by his hair with a crude knife in his other hand. I closed my eyes as I realized what was about to happen.

I heard a strangled yell and a slicing noise. Hot blood rained down on me as I screamed. The dopey centaur fell off and I rolled to the side.

"You bastard! Over a human woman!" another centaur screamed. He advanced on Jorel and grabbed him by the neck.

I shuffled my naked body backwards, away from the scuffle. I couldn't believe it. They were all killing each other!

The centaur with the black beard helped the angry centaur strangle Jorel. I heard a crack as his neck snapped. The other two jumped on the black-bearded centaur's back and started choking him.

I took this as my chance to roll over to the Trigger and grab it with my hands behind my back. I pushed myself up with my legs and ran for it.

They didn't chase me. They didn't even notice I was gone until I had almost reached the top of the hill.

"Get her!" I heard one of them scream, but I was at the peak--I pressed the button and turned to see two of them gaining on me--

And an arrow to the temple took one of them down. He rolled down the hill as a well-aimed arrow hit the other centaur in the chest. He tumbled down as well.

Behind them was the Hunter. He was running towards me with an outstretched hand.

"I'm coming with you!" He said. He was smiling. I'd never seen him smile. He was two feet away from me. All he had to do was touch me and he'd be taken back to my universe, too.

Everything went white, then black.

We could have gotten to know each other. I would never replace his wife, but he might have learned to love me in a different way. I was pretty sure I already loved him. I could have been his sunshine.

He was left standing there as the wormhole snatched me away.

Just like that, he was gone.

I would never be able to return again.

Saturday, 21 September 2013

And that was it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my bed in Brooklyn. I had more energy than I anticipated--I threw the covers off and sprang to my feet. The hardwood had never felt so good under my newly grounded toes.

I barely made it out of the bedroom before being greeted by Nietzsche, my fat ball of fuzz and mews. She howled and pushed against my legs, corralling me into the kitchen.

"Oh God, Nietzsche! I forgot to leave you extra food. You must be starving!" I reached for the container that stored her food and poured her a generous heap. That's when I heard the voice.

"You can tell a lot about a person by the size of her cat."

I screamed at the top of my lungs. The container flew through the air, scattering cat food all over the linoleum.

A tiny man with a neat white beard stood at the edge of my kitchen, hands behind his back, clear gray eyes smiling over thick spectacles.

"Dr. Belfast," I said, clutching my heart. I thought I might die. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you, my dear girl," the old man said. "And to feed your cat, after it became clear that I couldn't expect you back anytime soon." He cast a judging glace at Nietzsche. "However, it seems that your self-restraint issues extend to the feline, as well. She could stand to miss a meal."

"Oh," I said. My frazzled nerves began to calm. "Well, I found what you were looking for."

I pranced back to my bedroom and grabbed the leather pouch. Digging in it, my heart felt like it would explode.

"It was just in here! I swear to--" I turned the corner and saw that Dr. Belfast held the tiny figurine in his palm.

"I am aware that you found it, Ms. Riva," he said. "What I am not aware of is how you entirely allowed your mission to go off the rails."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I found the piece!" I said. I was indignant. He had to know how much I had suffered, how much I sacrificed to bring this priceless artifact back to him!

He silenced my protests with a raised palm. What an instantaneous effect this man had on me.

"You allowed yourself to become emotionally attached to one of this alternate universe's inhabitants," he said. "And you almost did not come back. I pay you handsomely, Ms. Riva. I don't pay you to be in the alternates any longer than you need to be. I don't pay you to fall in love. And I don't pay you to get gang-raped by medieval beasts."

My mouth hung open as though on a faulty hinge. "What you just said was so hugely--so grossly un-feminist, insulting, degrading, that I won't even begin to dignify it," I managed to sputter. "Blaming the victim? As though I ALLOWED myself to be raped--"

Belfast smiled knowingly and gazed at me over his ridiculous little spectacles.

"You have to admit it. You enjoyed it. You are a strange one." He raised his eyebrows at me.

I sputtered again. "You are a dirty, dirty old man," I said. "How do you even know what has happening to me in there? Do you have some sort of camera system set up? Do you have me bugged? What the fuck--"

Belfast just chuckled and turned to go, waving me away. That man is ludicrous. A fool in a white lab coat. I don't know how he ever got funding for his mad scientist experiments, but no one talks to me like that! And they certainly don't get the last word!

"Ms. Riva," he said, "I'd like to assign you a counselor. A 'shrink,' if you will, to help you diagnose whatever strange issues cause you to put yourself in these situations."

"A shrink? I don't need a shrink!" I said. "I am a victim! I was kidnapped!"

"I understand that this was your first mission and there were bound to be a few hiccups," Belfast said. "But you must understand that my background checks did not show you to have any mental issues. And there's nothing wrong with a little therapy," he said. "Especially when you need it."

I crossed my arms. "I can assure you, I don't need it."

Belfast looked at me strangely. "If you want to keep getting paid, I think you'll find that you do. You're a clever woman, and I'd like for you to keep working for me." He turned to leave, then turned back as if reconsidering something.

"I may also have to assign you someone to accompany you on your missions. An assistant, if you will. Someone who will come with you on these journeys to make sure you stay on track. Someone to sober you up."

He moved toward the door and opened it, then stopped himself again.

"And perhaps I should share this with you after all. You almost didn't make it back. The universe you traveled to was slowly crawling to its edge. If you had stayed there several moments longer, you would have been trapped within it for all time."

I frowned. "You never told me that was possible. That is a huge liability. That's why we should have contracts!"

He shrugged as though it was nothing. "Every job has time constraints," Belfast said cheerfully. "Think of it as a deadline! Each mission will have one. Each universe has an edge, and you would do well not to stand at the edge of it."

"An edge?" I said. "In terms of time, universes don't have edges. That doesn't make sense...is that some sort of euphemism?"

He tut-tutted and stepped outside my door.

I stuck my head out the door and watched Belfast step into the elevator at the end of the hall. "What about our universe? There isn't any edge to our universe! " I said. I didn't sound as sure as I wanted to.

"I can assure you that you're wrong!" His musical voice chimed. He smiled. "If you keep working the way you are now, you will see it soon enough...good day, Ms. Riva!"

He tipped his hat and the elevator doors slid shut.

What a kook!...right?

I felt Nietzsche rubbing against my legs and stooped to pick her up.

"Poor, sweet kitty. Did you miss me?" I closed the door with my foot.

Tuesday, 1 October 2013

It's been over a week, and he's still all I can think about.

At night I stroke myself softly, dreaming of him inside me, sweat dripping down on me from his chest and shoulders, his brow wet with effort, staring into my eyes.

Belfast hasn't contacted me yet. Not about another mission, not about the shrink, not about the assistant. Only one thing is for sure: the next universe he creates for me will be different. Even if he could send me back to the one where the Hunter lived, he wouldn't do it.

I'm sitting on a bench in Central Park, staring out at the people walking by. People walking with their dogs, with their friends, their lovers.

I don't belong here anymore.

But I can never go back to that cottage. I'll never see the Hunter again.

Maybe this is what Belfast meant. I feel like I'm sitting at the edge of this universe, legs dangling over. I can see the medieval forest below, the Hunter's cottage. But it's too far for me to jump. I close my eyes and I can see him outside splitting wood. He places the mol on his bare shoulder and wipes sweat from his brow. He looks up, but he can't see me.

I opened my eyes. It suddenly occurred to me...I never asked his name.

Preview of Vol. 2:

Hand of the Prince

When will Belfast start sending me somewhere other than the Middle Ages?

Does he want me to get the plague? Does he want me to get executed for witchcraft? Better yet, if he doesn't want me to get raped (since it's so obviously my fault,) why won't he send me somewhere where the men aren't obsessed with rape? And where they're not allowed to do it?!

At least he hasn't made good on his promise to hire an assistant for me or make me see a shrink. When he called me up this time, the only thing he asked was that I return the item he requested. That I can do. I just wish he didn't have to speak in riddles.

"Bring me a painting made with golden fibers that hangs in the King's chambers," he said. "A moveable mural. Thank you, Ms. Riva." And he hung up. God...

It was easier than I thought to find a job as a chambermaid in the palace. They mostly seemed to be looking for someone with no signs of Bubonic disease and a few teeth left.

Unfortunately, compared to most of these women I stand out. I have all of my teeth, thank you very much, and I have a lot more meat on my bones. I spill over the dainty little dresses they give the maids. And I've received a lot of male attention for it. Most notably, from the prince himself.

I have to admit that he's a stunner. Tall, fit, and blonde, his tunics fit him perfectly. I can see every muscle, every bulge. And I can't deny that I stared when I first met him. He definitely noticed me noticing.

After that, I stopped cleaning chamber pots in the princess's quarters and was suddenly moved to the prince's wing. Few women worked here. He had footmen who handled most things for him.

I was beating the dust out of a carpet out his window, considering what Belfast could have meant by a "moveable mural," when I heard the heavy wooden door slam shut. I whipped around. My dress simply wasn't made to hold breasts as large as mine; they popped loose and I found myself half-naked in the presence of the prince.

"Oh sweet Jesus!" I said. The prince looked amused as he picked his way toward me.

"What are you doing in here? You're not supposed to be here when we clean," I said, trying to cover my chest. The prince gawked at my breasts, a smirk on his face.