My father use to tell me stories of the old time and his worldly travels. I think my wanderlust came from him and those fireside tails. He would go into these crazy tangents about how the world has changed so much over his lifetime. How entire civilizations had risen and then been blown to dust. He'd say that was the hardest part with being eternal—living alongside the constantly changing humans. I thought he was kind of funny. But that would be my youth speaking. I understand pain more as the years have dug on.

Many a dark day, I would wonder about the evolutions going on above me in the world. (Let's be honest, I had plenty of time to think of a good many things.) I expected any number of changes, all my ideas, they all have been exceeded—bewildingly so, actually.

Take this black glass thing that Bec cherished enough to sleep with tucked in her pocket. Oh, yeah, I kind of took it from her as she rested—hope we can still be friends. (I mean you and I. Figured putting Bec in a cage is already going to dampen any relationship.) I didn't steal it per-say, just wanted to see it. But, well, I did kind of smash it on a rock so that now the black glass is married with a spider web of cracks.

Anyway, the now broken, black glass brick thing (Bec did at one point call it a cell phone if that helps) use to glow. Press a button like Bec did, and an image appears from within the dark surface. The image is a very realistic painting of her in male clothing, with a wimpy appearing man next to her. His scrawny arm is hung around her shoulder. I swear, the man's teethe smile is not the reason I smashed the cell phone. When I press the button now, I can still see her, his face just happens to be where the rock hit.

***********************

Ah, evening. I sit with my legs dangling over the side of the rock ledge enjoying the wash of the canyon wind as if ruffles my hair. The sun is setting over the red stained walls of the canyon making the long shadows stretch across the desert cliffs.

Topaz is rolling around in the dirt and chasing ants. Emerald, Sky, and Flicker buzz around my head. Those three are so paranoid. I've said, and I will say it again, I'm not going to throw myself from the cliff walls—today. I adjust the bandage where it rubs under my shredded shirt. My chest still smarts from my last suicide attempt. I need time to heal from that before I get any other life-ending ideas.

Also, things have changed—for me—maybe. The realization of this is slowly dawning on me. This is a gradual change in my thinking. I have found that the pain of existing can outway the pleasure of the journey. Trying to end my journey has until recently been an all-consuming thought. Especially when that existence for me stretched into millennia of staring at the inside of a wood coffin.

We use to have an honor, those of us who dwelled in the twilight of the mortal's world. Sure, the different types of us, we didn't get along—at all. My type enjoyed the company of humans; others viewed them better as a meal. Thus our philosophy greatly differed. Still, when one of us was captured we left the looser with an out.

Thus, the vampire solution.

I didn't necessarily give them the stake to the heart, but when burying them deep underground, I left them with a stake should they change their mind about wanting to stay alive. See, that's called honor.

The bastards who caught me—left me stuck. Thus, I may have gotten a little obsessed with the idea of finding an exit. These thoughts are making my lights friends buzz harder like they can hear my intentions. Who knows, maybe they can—hear my thoughts that is. Clearly, they can buzz, annoying as knits sometimes they are.

With the setting of the sun, I can see fully down into the valley. After spending a summer here, I know what to watch for on the river. About this time is when the daily boat traffic starts breaching onto the sand spit below. If I see a vessel, I'm going to have to figure out what to do about the cage.

The three lights near me, start blinking once, taking a rest and then blinking once again.

See. This is why I think they can read my thoughts.

Or I was just talking aloud... Did I just talk aloud to you?

Anyway, no river traffic again. As the summer is blending into fall the boaters have vanished. Wonder how they make any money only running in the summer months? Also, why is there never any upriver traffic? I scratch my head. This new world I emerged into is so confusing—and the boat traffic is about the least of it, trust me in this.

I nod, satisfied that we won't have any unwanted guests tonight, and a little disappointed that the lack of boaters means nothing to pillage from.

What? You think it's easy to live in a canyon?

Actually, it's easy for me. My favorite food source is surprisingly available and even well feed at that. It's Bec that worries me. I need to provide for her, because you know being in a cage she's a little on the dependent side. If the boat traffic doesn't return soon, I'm going to need a new plan.

Thinking of Bec, I return to the dark dampness of the cave to check on her. She is sitting up and tapping on her phone. She noticed it was broken. The crack was rather hard to miss. Her eyes narrow as she sees me watching her from around the safety of the corner. I think she suspects I broke her toy...

I sit down cross-legged, just out of range of her rocks, and wait. Bec puts down her phone and huffs.

"What do you want Scary?"

Is this a good sign? The first day Bec spent in the cage she cried and asked me this same question, when she asks this now she sounds bored.

"Cellphone?" I ask.

"You broke it you bastard." My stomach clenches at this. It is an unsettling feeling I'm unused to experiencing. Once, I faced an opposing army with a sword in hand and laughed as they charged down the hill at me. These days, a scornful glare from a female makes me quake. The weakness within me is worrisome.

So she knew it was me—with the cell phone. I wish I could explain. But I don't have the language or even a good excuse for smashing it...

"Who?" I point to the phone. "With Bec?"

Her brow creases. "You mean the picture on my phone? The phone you stole and smashed."

Yeah, I didn't catch all that. Still, I nod my head vigorously hoping to encourage her.

She rolls her eyes and returns to tapping her finger against its surface. I wait. She doesn't glance up. That sickening feeling returns and I try to push it away. Humm, my attempt at communicating with her isn't going anywhere. I glance at my lights but they are floating haphazardly around the cave. Yah, no help there. Maybe if Bec saw the lights she would know I could be trusted...

I'm at a loss for how to engage her. We've played the name game on all the objects in the cave. I scratch at my arm, after noticing I was about to begin chewing on it. With a huff, Bec slides the phone into a pocket of her pants.

She continues grinding a small bouquet of flowers with the heel of her shoe. I watch as the red and yellow desert daisies petals merge with the rust-colored dirt of the cave all while the sinking feeling keeps twists at my gut.

A lock of Bec's hair has escaped from her ponytail. It's beautiful like spun sunlight. My fingers twitch as I think of all the times I'd pulled on a piece of Helga's golden hair. I reach forward and stop as Bec glances up and clutches a rock. Yah, different girl. Tugging a pretty girl's hair may have worked once to get feminine attention, these days, I stare at Bec's white-knuckle grip, I need a new trick.

I sigh and lean against the stone wall. I have to figure out how to get Bec to communicate with me more. Girls use to come at my beckon. Why was that? Well, my singing voice, for sure. I clear my throat and notice Bec winces. No, that won't work. Things are still a little out of tune for me. Maybe use my natural swagger and handsome appearance as that use to always work. I think back to what I'd seen of myself in the White Building reflection wall and run my figures through my shaggy cut hair.

How about my legendary skill with the sword? I tap my fingers on the floor. This idea might be worth exploring. I climb to my feet and shake out my arms and legs. Once impressed with my great strength Bec, being of the weaker sex, won't help but become transfixed and thus become compelled to talk with me more. My limbs warm as blood returns to them.

My eyes sweep the cave, and I rub at the tightness in my wounded chest at seeing the limited options for showing off my manly skills. No swords, shield or spear, don't even have a long stick that I could twirl around. All the wood I could salvage in the canyon went into either her cage or the building project. A rock then. Yes, that will do. Kind of basic, but it will show her my potential as a warrior. I walk over to one of the caves many boulders, the largest of course and stretching my arms above my head flexing my many muscles. I then position my hands around the stone and lift it.

Or more like I try and lift it.

Really, it turns out I only succeed at thinking about lifting it.

Son of a goat lover the thing must be heavy. When did rocks begin to weigh so much? I rub my head where several of Bec's rocks have hit me. This is what's wrong with this desert, it creates far too heavy of rocks and that's stupid. I kick the boulder and pull away a throbbing foot. Sitting down hard, I rub my toes and stare at the blasted thing. Also, I think I ripped open my chest wound.

Feeling an itch between my shoulder blades, I glance over to see Bec watching my little spectacle. Oh, sure, now she chooses to pay me any mind. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her lips are slightly curled upwards.

Fine then. I just picked the wrong boulder to impress her with, that's all. At least I did get her attention. And how could I have known that the rock was still attached to the cave floor? Because, you know, why else would I not have been able to lift it...

Finding the fourth largest boulder in the cave, and after making sure that it is in fact detached, I prepare myself to lift the stone. Again, I shake out my muscles and then wrapping my arms around the stone with a mighty heave, I pick up the boulder.

This time, I'm happy to report, I do lift the stone.

Like there could be any question.

Even if I only lift it just barely, again, this is due to the defect of the rocks in this canyon. As soon as the stone is a good half inch in the air—or greater, might have been more like four inches or even a foot, anyway, the stone slides from my grip and falls to the ground smashing my toes. Yes, the same foot that I'd kicked the rock with.

Because, at this point, why would I get any kind of a break?

I fall to the ground to pull out my toes from under the boulder. I hate me right now. Not as bad as my foot strongly dislikes me, because it's screaming with hate at this moment. Lying flat on the floor, I stare up at the jagged cave ceiling.

Bec is giggling. She's trying to muffle it with her hand. The problem with caves, other than they are full of stupid rocks, is they echo sounds like laughter painfully well. Or maybe it's just the sound is ringing in my ears. The noise mixes well with my hefty dose of humiliation.

I turn my head and narrow my eyes to her and she glances at the red dirt floor. Her shoulders still shake with laughter. I feel like a silly little goat. And I think I pulled a muscle in my back. And my chest wound—screaming at me like a banshee. Put all those together with my hurt foot it makes it hard to live inside of me.

When did I get so bad at this? I thump my head on the floor. Ouch. I wince. That hurt too.

My three responding light friends are circling around my head. Their actions make me think of my time in the White Building. The people there had moving pictures in a box. Yah, sounds crazy but that would be me—right? The pictures in the box could appear very lifelike. If you should see one of these pictures in a box, they are fascinating and totally worth staring at for hours and hours on end. However, take my advice and don't put your hand through one to see the small people. Every time you do it—same thing, you get a broken box and pissed White Building attendants.

After getting a few new boxes, the attendants at the White Building only let colorful moving pictures show on them, or at least when I was around that's all they showed. One of the moving pictures was of a large black and white cat. This cat would do stupid things, get hit in the head, hit by any number of objects and then little birds would appear and twirl around the felines head.

That's me. Laying here on the cave floor after having been stupid with my light friends twirling in a circle around my head just like that cat.

I swat at my lights and scream at them to go away.

Bec's laughter dies.

Oh, right. She can't see the lights. To her, I was swatting at the air and shouting at nothing. Could this get any worse?

No, no it couldn't. I rub my temples.

"You know if you let me out of here..." Bec's voice has lowered to a smooth tone.

The same kind of tones the attendants in the White Building would use when they said shit like: "If you just took these pills." Bec is saying more. Using words that I think mean "help" and "Yah, your fucking nuts." No, I don't know that's exactly what she is saying. I'm too humiliated and angry at myself to listen. Instead, I get up, try to gather any remaining self-respect and stock out of the cave to go sit on the cliff edge. While there, I try to refrain from doing myself any more favors and hurling myself over into the dark abyss.