A swing set stood amidst a grass carpeted playground. Ovals of dust wore into the grass under each swing. The rubber seat cast a rectangular shadow over Josh’s mouth as he laid on his back. Rays of morning sun slanted against his left ear to turn it red. Josh pushed the black rubber seat; it swung back and forth from rusty chains as his bloodshot eyes followed it. Dust coated the inside of his dry mouth and caked his hair. It covered his pants and leather jacket in an even brown stain as it coated his skin. If he could have mustered enough saliva to choke down some of the dry dirt on his tongue, he would have spit.

Josh rubbed his left eye before doing the same to his forehead. His head ached as he dug his nails into his palm to test his control. A small aura of fear was still in the air around him, but it quickly dissipated until he couldn’t sense the incubus anymore. Licking his sore dry lips, he got up slowly and sat on the swing with some effort. Loose strings of rubber pealed from the seat as he scratched with his nails. While gathering his thoughts, a large purple ball rolled in front of him. A little girl in pink overalls came to retrieve it.

“Are you OK mister?”

“You’re not afraid of me?”

“Why should I be? You don’t look very scary. You look silly. And dirty too.”

“That’s a new wrinkle. Most kids are scared of me.”

Josh smiled without reservation, and she returned a gracious smile of her own. She laughed cutely, and soon they were both laughing for no particular reason. The last time he had heard a child laugh, he was one himself; he missed such little pleasures. Soon the child’s mother came and lifted her away with a warning against talking to vagrants. Josh sat stunned, too stunned to level the insults that crossed his mind. He remained sitting until the woman was gone, then pushed himself up, dusted himself off, and walked in the opposite direction.

-----

The warm beads of clean water allowed Nadia to forget about her bruises, which were considerably sorer than yesterday. Nadia struggled when the time came to turn the water off, enjoying it five minutes longer than she needed. A big blue fluffy towel helped her dry quickly, though her hair continued to drip. Beads of water fell over her shoulders, slid down her back, and ran along her curves as she rubbed the bruises on her shoulders and stomach. Her palms looked rough, so she took some rash cream from the medicine cabinet and rubbed it into the peeling abrasions.

There was an old blow dryer underneath the sink that used to belong to her mother, since her long hair wouldn’t dry sufficiently with the damp towel, she pulled it out with a sigh and plugged it in. After playing with the buttons its air became warm. She lifted her long hair as the mechanically born wind pushed it back, creating waves of it. It felt bouncy when she was finished, and her scalp tingled.

She checked the bruise on her stomach again, probing it with her fingers. It was sensitive enough to cause pain, but the one on her shoulder was worse. It bothered her when she straightened her posture, so putting on her bra became a minor ordeal, as did lifting her arms to drop into a big white shirt. Both bruises complained when she bent over to pull up her jeans.

Everything except her shirt were items she had purchased yesterday. The new jeans hugged her hips. The bruise on her stomach complained again as she bent to put her sneakers on, so she lifted her foot onto her knee and put them on that way. She was about finished cleaning up after herself when she heard the phone ring. Her father answered it as she put her towel in the laundry chute and headed down the steps.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Hello... This is Norman, his father... No, Nathan won’t be able to make it tonight... A promised rematch, maybe when he comes back from Montana.”

Nadia hurried across the living room, stepping over the cards of a memory game that Luthial and Natalie where busily engaged in.

“Hey!” Natalie sulked, “Be careful!”

“It’s okay,” Luthia said, “Look, we can change the cards and play again.”

Nadia grabbed the receiver from her father’s hands.

“I’ll be there, what time? ...And so what if I sound like a girl?!” she blushed awkwardly upon realizing she’d forgotten herself for a moment, but that could be easily fixed, “I happen to be his cousin, a girl, and yes I do know how to fence... even better than him. You’ll have your match.”

Norman heard a laugh from the phone.

“Laugh all you want, you’ll be sorry when you’re beaten,” Nadia slammed it back onto the receiver, “That jerk, and to believe I actually thought he was pretty cool. I’m coming whether you invite me or not, so there!”

“That was before all this trouble, right?”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she started back up the steps to get her sword. “I need to practice my technique, if you need me, I’ll be in the yard.”

“You better hurry then, you only have a few hours.”

-----

Wood chips flew from a dead silver maple as Nadia slashed it with her sword. They scattered across the grass like newly spilt mulch as she gouged three triangular openings in its trunk. At first, she had drilled a spot with her sword point to practice speed and accuracy, but she soon ignored the point drill and began testing her strength. Then she started chopping the tree from the side with her sword. She attacked from every imaginable angle, ignoring the sensitivity of her bruises.

The sword would stick in the wood with every blow, but she would pull it out with an angry grunt and start slashing again while baring her teeth like a bloodthirsty wolf. The wood resisted stubbornly; even though it was dry and dead it would not be daunted by her simple fencing sword. Dew heard the violent slashing and approached from the forest. He watched her as she continued to beat the trunk mercilessly, then came from behind and caught her wrist before another blow could be struck.

“I would like to know what you’re attempting to accomplish. Please don’t tell me this is the way you practice.”

“Let go! It’s not your business.”

His hand slid purposely against her wrist, over her glove, and hit her sword hilt with enough force to push it from her hand with his palm. The sword flew forward into another tree, like a javelin after being tossed. Nadia was left to stare quietly at her hand, still positioned as if still holding a sword.

“The way you abuse that sword is insulting. Practicing in such a manner will only decrease your skill. Worse, you could end up hurting yourself with your own uncontrolled anger.”

“I’m not angry!”

Dew blinked.

“Yes, I see. So, who are you planning to kill?”

“Kill!?”

She walked over to the other tree to pull her fencing sword from it. It took more effort than she anticipated and she almost fell backward when it popped out, “You have the wrong impression. It’s only a tag match, I’m not planning to hurt anyone.”

“A tag match?”

“To win you tag your opponent with the tip of the sword three time. The first one to get three tags wins. No one gets hurt.”

“Sounds like a noble practice, so you might want to practice more nobly.”

“I can still wound his pride. He called me a girl.”

Dew stared for a moment.

“Well, I can see why you are offended. You're obviously not a girl.”

She kept herself from grabbing his hands, "Really!?"

"You're a mature and beautiful woman."

“You dimwit, bug off!”

Dew started walking back to the house, “If he underestimates you, then you should use that to your advantage. There’s no use for such reckless anger. If your opponent has invaded your mind to that degree then you have already lost.”

Nadia muttered under her breath.

“Keep your stupid advice to your stupid self, stupid.”

She waited until after Dew had gone inside, and then began to aim her thrusts calmly at the point she had first carved. The point of her sword hit the target perfectly from that time onward, no matter how far or how fast she conducted herself.