SWOT Analysis: the O and T part

After a longer hiatus than intended, I now present the second half of my SWOT Analysis.

Opportunities:
What are the [business] personal goals you are currently working towards?

Goal: As I have said, I am trying to find satisfaction in my work life. Or perhaps, more accurately, the right amount of satisfaction in my work life.*$ I'm trying to determine if I should return to a 'regular' job, or go full-force into a 'creative' job.

How could I improve myself?

Aerials: Take more teach trainings to improve my skills as an instructor. I'm hoping to take a teacher training course this summer, which will build on the previous two I've taken. I could also look into flexibility workshops (so I can give students safe advice on stretching), or possibly yoga workshops (to improve my knowledge of body mechanics).

I would also like to be a better aerialist in general. Watching my daughter take classes in gymnastics and swimming (even though classes at this age level [3.5 years] are very basic) I miss having semi-regular instruction. I need someone to give me reminders about what my toes are doing (especially the left ones), or whether or not my legs are straight.

Writing: I really ought to get involved in some kind of writing group if I'm going to get back at it. I can't operate in silo. As much as I like to work alone, I need feedback and I need editing. I also need to learn how to better market my self-published books.

Librarian/Research Positions: If I want to get back into librarianship, I probably need to take a course or two. Some topics that occur to me as useful or potentially interesting are: database management, information literacy, some kind of course on reference librarianship, or maybe something on social media use. If I decided to take the research route, my current job is probably doing a decent job at giving me recent, updated skills.

Other: I feel like workshops or courses in a variety of computer-related skills such as social media use, and software like Adobe, or some other graphics-type program couldn't hurt. I can make a passable (if barely) flyer or fact sheet, or book cover, in Microsoft Publisher, but it's a laborious process. I think I would enjoy actually knowing how to use such a program and having some basic knowledge of this would probably make me more appealing in the work force.

As I take it, the Opportunities part is mostly about how I would like to improve myself to make myself better at whatever job/career path I choose. In an ideal world, I would do all the things listed above, be a better aerialist, aerial instructor, writer, and creator of media. Interestingly, being a better librarian or researcher didn't immediately fit into that previously sentence (and not because I think I'm amazing in these areas).

* I'm hoping to do a post in the near future about about the complex feelings and thoughts I have to confront when I'm on (or even thinking about) my day job.
$ Having written this sentence, I wonder if I also need to work on re-framing what I consider to be work satisfaction. Food for thought. Chomp, chomp.

Threats:
What obstacles do you face?

Me.

I could end it there, but that's not very thorough.

I am unable to commit to any one decision, meaning I'm trying to juggle too many things. I'm trying to do aerials (training, stretching, learning new things, teaching), write, work a day job (which could be up to 21 hours a week), help manage my household, and be the primary care giver to my daughter. Trying to balance all these things means I'm not giving as much as I could, or should, to any one thing. Further, it means I'm not particularly good at any of these things.

Other questions to consider in this category, don't translate quite so well to my personal exploration, since they're looking at the strengths of Competitors, and what's going on in the Industry/Economy. At least I don't think the translate, or maybe I'm simply getting tired of SWOT Analysis and don't want to think about these questions anymore. Perhaps the questions of competitors and industry/economy will make more sense once I'd decided what path I want to pursue.

Overall, I think I am my biggest threat. I'm so concerned about making the wrong choice that it leads me to make no choice. And by not making a choice, trying to make do by juggling multiple options, is leaving me tired and stressed, and at least moderately unhappy.

Where does this leave me? I think another post is yet required to finish this analysis. I've put down a lot of thoughts and I need to think about this further.

Ciao,

Andrea

A selfie from this weekend (May 26th), prior to a 'rare' public performance at the Hohner Porch Party.

Month three, or is it four? Self-refection with SWOT Analysis

I managed to get myself back on track, slightly, during March with my self-refection efforts. Then I wound up sick for the first two weeks of April--cold and flu stuff, but still, it's sucked. I'm rarely sick enough to warrant my taking time off work, but I had to take a day off from both my jobs. Yuck. Anyway, my being sick derailed my efforts to complete my review of March's efforts to consider my life.

For March I opted to use SWOT (Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, Threats) Analysis. I realize this is a method for businesses to make decisions, but I thought the different way of looking at my problem might be useful.

Strengths:
Strengths, Experiences, What makes you unique

• Creative*--I'm a writer, reasonably artistic, a half-decent eye for what looks 'good.'
• Reliable--I almost never miss a day (the last week excepted), never show up late.
• Independent worker--I don't need constant reminders, or a hovering supervisor to get my work done.
• Researcher and librarian--10+ year experience in academic research, with involvement in various stages and various roles of the research.
• Small group fitness instructor--2 years experience in teaching aerial circus skills, speaking in front of small groups, class management.
• Baker and cook--need baked goods?
• Seamstress

After some discussion, Andrew told me that: "You are very good at doing whatever it is you need to do for the job in front of you."

I'm not quite sure how to sum that up, maybe: Gets Shit Done?

*I always say I'm creative, but what does this mean, really? How much of a strength is this? Why do I always think of myself as creative? I'm beginning to wonder.

Weaknesses:
Areas for improvement, resources needed, education required

• Initiative--This may seem kinda of weird. I'm really good at doing tasks assigned to me and completing them on time. What I'm not so great at is, when I'm told something general needs to be done about this huge thing, figuring out what I should do about it, or where I should start. Being presented with an overarching or generic problem with no specific requests on how to fix it stresses me out.
• Timid/Conflict Adverse--I almost always prefer to handle things via email if I can. Please don't get in my face.
• Jealous--I constantly struggle with feelings of jealousy, especially when I see someone have an awesome opportunity open up to themselves, to which I have no share (but wish I could).
• Insecure/Lack of Confidence--Seriously, my head is a mess.
• No business sense--Hence why my self-published novels have sold very little.
• No specific goals--I tend to think in generalizations...

Here's a thing I learned from doing SWOT: I've always been a dreamer. I've spent a lot of car and bus trips daydreaming. I used to spend a lot of boring nights as a child and teenager wishing something random and amazing would happen to me, at my house in the countryside.

Dreaming doesn't translate into success. At least not directly.

I have dreamed of being a writer for about at long as I can remember. I have three full novels sitting on Amazon Kindle doing only slightly less than nothing. I have failed to do anything about this. I haven't learned how to market myself. I haven't learned how to make a better cover for my novels to make them more attractive. I haven't learned how to use a Kindle marketing campaign. I haven't even stood on street corners handing out flyers for my books.

(I have, in fact, spent years sending my first to novels [Cimwai's Bay and The Cure] to agents and publishers, to mostly no avail.)

If I choose to take the artist's route for the rest of my life, I have to learn how to do this. Yes, I love to write, it makes me feel good when I've completed a (in my opinion) particularly delectable scene. HOWEVER. I would also like to make a small sum from my efforts.

I have to take initiative to make my dreams come true.

Ciao,

Andrea

P.S. I'll finish the last 2 points of my SWOT Analysis next time...this post got long.

Photography by Alexa Baker--because she is awesome and makes me look awesome.

One month in: What have I learned in my process of self-reflection?

Honestly, I haven't really learned anything new. Nor have I come closer to making a decision about my life (hence why I intend this to be a multi-month process).

For the month of January I took a pretty standard approach to decision making.

Step 1: Identify the decision to be made
What kind of career or job do I want to have, or what kind of career or job do I think would make me most happy?

I wonder if this is an over simplification of the decision to be made, or perhaps, I'm trying to put this decision into too simple of terms. It's what I've decided to build on, which might get hashed out better in subsequent months and styles of decision making.

Step 2: Identify alternatives
As I see it, I have 2 paths I can follow.

Librarianship/Research: For the purpose of this exercise I see librarianship and research as the same option, or that they have the same value. Both represent the more 'standard' job. Both would likely be reasonably steady hours, greater pay, and rely on my degree and work experience. In a year's time I'd be looking into courses on stats, or research methods, or librarian-related courses to improve my job prospects.

Aerials/Writing: Unlike the above, these are not exactly the same job, but I feel like to do one, it might require the other because there isn't a lot of money to be made at either. This would definitely be the path of the artist. In year 2 of this process I'd be focusing on taking further aerial teacher training, and figuring out how to market my current books, while writing a new one.

Step 3: Identify uncertainties
One of the biggest problems I have is coming to peace with my level of income and my contribution to the Milne household. I have a lot of wants which require money: nice clothing, nice house, fun vacations, good food, good wine, a car in good working order.

If I choose the librarian/research path, my income won't be much of an uncertainty, but it's a huge one if I choose the aerials/writer path.

Building on this is, what is it that makes me happy? A small part of me thinks (or maybe just imagines), if I figure out what will make me happy, the choice of career will become obvious. Some beacon will shine out of the fog of my life and tell me what I'm supposed to do with myself. Then the whole income level won't matter because I'll be happy, and isn't that the most important thing in life?

Step 4: Gather relevant information
I took this stage as coming up with a list of pros and cons. I repeated this exercise on a couple of different nights, thinking I might have slightly different insights on different nights, then compared what I came up with.

Elements I would consider important in a job:

• Ability to be physically active.
• Ability to have creative outlets.
• Some flexibility in hours to allow for: being available to Ruth if she needs me during the day; occasionally volunteering with a charity.
• Yet some consistent number of hours a week (anywhere between 15 and 20, I think).
• If not receiving benefits, being paid sufficiently to offset not having them.

Elements I would dislike in a job: (which may basically be the opposite of my list of pros)

• Inconsistent hours or schedule OR too ridged a schedule interfering with the amount of time I can spend with Ruth and Andrew.
• A desk job where I sit all day.
• No opportunities to exercise my creativity.
• Low/little income, and/or no benefits.
• Too much time spent alone OR little social interaction.

Step 5: Make a decision

As I stated above, I wasn't necessarily expecting to come out of this single exercise with a final decision. I can't deny, however, certain elements: physical activeness; creativity; flexibility; at least some interaction with others, are jumping out at me.

You would think at this point the signs would be pretty clear, but there's that uncertainty I identified. How much or little income am I comfortable with? That is what I need to figure out.

I had a dream last night (after having written the bulk of this blog post) that seemed aptly timed (and rather suggestive):

I was at Base Camp at Mount Everest. Andrew and Ruth were with me to wish me luck, but I was getting cold feet. I wasn't sure I wanted to go on the climb (the success rate is low, many people die). Additionally, I was supposed to go to Australia (I'm not sure where this came from) after I was finished the climb, meaning I wasn't going to see Andrew and Ruth for weeks. In the end, I decided to stay at the base of Mount Everest, to spend time with my husband and daughter.

A much smaller 'mount' I actually scaled. The Notch, in Jasper National Park, on the Jasper Skyline Trail.

I still remember worrying as we climbed The Notch that I had gotten us into something I shouldn't have, as Andrew was suffering from a bad head cold at the time.

That was a heck of a day, 20+ km, 3 mountain passages.

Until next time.

Ciao,

Andrea

Happy New Year! Now, what am I going to do with the rest of my life?

Back in September I interviewed for a part-time research assistant position. I was turned down, told I was their 'number two.' At that point I decided I wasn't going to apply to any other jobs unless it was a perfect fit.

Instead I was going to do aerials, write, and sew (and take care of my daughter, of course). I was going to train lots, work on my new story idea, and start building a homemade wardrobe.

I also needed to do some deep thinking. I spent sometime researching decision making techniques, making note of several I thought could be helpful. I made an unofficial deadline of September 2018 (when Ruth starts JK) to decide if I was going to take more courses in librarianship/research or instructing aerials.

I was going to put on my big girl pants, and make some decisions about what I really want in life and what makes me happy.

At the end of November I was contacted again about the research assistant position. Certain circumstances had led the first pick to find a different job, was I still interested?

Well crap. I hadn't expected that change of events. I'd put the initial disappointment behind me, and had settled into the idea of staying at home and working on things at my own pace. The trouble was, what if by the time my deadline came around, I decided I needed to find a regular job? It would be 5+ years since the last time I'd worked in a regular office setting. I'd have no up-to-date experiences or references for a librarian/research job.

I've taken the job. Besides the issues above, it is, in fact, a fantastically important research project dealing with mental health and the work place (put very broadly).

As the holidays came to an end, I was looking at my official, up-to-full hours (full, part-time hours, that is), start date of January 2nd, and I was (and still am) kind of panicking. I feel like my plate is full, boarding on over flowing.

In the 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks in a year I have for the next 3 years I need to:

1. Work (up to) 21 hrs/week.
2. Teach aerials 4-6 hr/week (offering to do more day-time hours next fall).
3. Train aerials 4-6 hr/week (at least)
4. Exercise (cardio/strength conditioning) 5-6 hr/week.
5. Write (ha!).
6. Sew (ha! x2).

Then there's the general life stuff of: taking care of/being present for my family, making home cooked meals (most of the time), making sure there's clean laundry, keeping the house tidy enough that it won't drive me nuts (I'm looking into a cleaning service)...anything else? Getting enough sleep, I suppose.

Oh Boy.

Now, let me circle back to something from before.

Above all else, what I must do over the next 3 years is think about what I want to do with my life, and this is in fact that actual point of this post.

My New Years resolution is to spend the next year thinking about what makes me happy, and what I want to do as a job/career. Aerials, write, sew, or librarianship/research. Maybe a combination of 2 of these, but not likely more. By the end of 2018 I would like to have an action plan for 2019. What do I focus in on? What do I re-train in? I'll still have until the end of 2020 before things come into full effect, but I need to know what I'm doing once my present contract is up.

Not only do I need to put on my big girl pants for me, but I need to put them on for Ruth. I need to demonstrate to her how to lead a happy and fulfilled life no matter what career path I choose.

Happy New Years everyone.

Ciao,

Andrea

Awesome photograph by the Awesome Alexa Baker, who some how manages to make me feel like a model.

Hello again...What's new? Not much

Hello again, dear reader. Yes, it has been a while. Seven months, I think?

What's new? Oh, not much. I'm still as uncertain, and indecisive as ever. Aerials, motherhood, writing, and librarianship all continue to fight for supremacy in my confused and befuddled heart and mind.

Andrew remains a wonderful support, although I know he's getting frustrated with me, a) because I can't seem to make a decision, or even in progress toward a decision; and b) because he can't help me. I'm not going to delve into this right now.

What brings me back to my little blog space? Well, it's NaNoWriMo,...which in the past I have despised (writing ridiculous amounts in a month does not make one a writer). I'm definitely not going to meet the fifty thousand word goal, but I AM writing. For me, that's pretty big. I haven't had a new set of characters to write about in over three years (hm,...wonder why). I haven't had a new story idea in three years either. I was beginning to despair that that aspect of my creative life was all over.

After a recent re-watching of Casablanca, I had an idea. Something about the phrase 'Everyone comes to Rick's, got me going. Any maybe I could take some of the elements of my favourite book, Sunshine, put then together and come up with something interesting? Whether anyone else will find it interesting remains to be seen.

So, I'm here to proclaim to the hill tops and back: I AM WRITING.

I will try to blog again soon about some other (non-writing) projects I've got planned for November and December.

My current self-published novels available on Amazon. Cimwai's Bay, The Cure, and Circus of Love, under my pen name, Peggy Fitz

Ciao,

Andrea

Short story project: Wrap up

The final installment I presented last week was not, in fact, where Claire's story ends; however, I don't intend to spend the next year posting 500 word sections of the manuscript...never mind that I never managed to finish the story. The manuscript as I left it is 47,000 words long. I don't remember the reasons why I abandoned it, probably one at least being that I didn't know how to finish it off. It's also possible that other stories were pressing at me as I've been bouncing between various new projects and my old standards of Cimwai's Bay (and its sequel), and The Cure (and its sequels), for several years.

At the point of which I left off, Claire does not leave without Jason. She's too shook up from her narrow escape that she doesn't feel capable of taking off and instead returns to his glamorous penthouse apartment. Over the next several days they plan to scope out, and break into the Homian Power research facility which is located on an island just off the shoreline of the city. I think I managed to get them in and out of that experience (narrowly, of course), but that's where I ran out of steam. I had some intentions of re-introducing Claire to her mother, but never figured out the final showdown between her and the Homain Power, powers that be.

Claire's story came up out of the idea to simply write a story about a girl who could fly (much like how Ava came about from wanting to write about a girl whose hair turned green). I made her a librarian since that is my background as well, and she lives in a city that somewhat resembles Toronto (although when I thought of the library where she works, I more of thought of the Milner in Edmonton than any location in the GTA). At one point I attempted to turn the manuscript from an adult read, to young adult tale, reducing Claire's age to that of a university student, and omitting her habit of smoking (there's still sex, however).

What's next? My blog will probably go back to a casual record of my life in Somerville for the time being. I don't promise any consistent posting schedule since my free time, or more specifically the free time with which I feel like writing, is pretty scare at the moment. I'm currently balancing two part-time jobs, and thus working more hours than I did when I was full time at the University of Alberta. For writing? I'm in the process of writing a straight-up romance about a circus (involving a number of aerial performers, of course). It's actually in the editing phase and I've made a very laid-back goal of trying to submit it to a publisher by the fall. We'll see if I make it.

If you haven't read my short story project, but are now curious, you can head back to Part 1, by clicking here.

Ciao,

Andrea

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 17

I strode across the lobby with as much confidence as I could muster.

“What’s your hurry?” Bailey caught up to me, and clamped his hand onto my shoulder.

“It’s getting late.” I eyed the hand anchoring me to my spot. I couldn’t tell from the tone of his question whether he was after me as a woman, or as an illegal intruder.

“It’s not even nine.” Baliey said. “There’s no one else here—and I know there are couches in the executive offices.” His hand drifted down my back and rested on my butt.

I could, as suggested, retire to one of the executive offices, but where would it end? What was I willing to do to make sure I walked out of this building alone? What would happen if I said no upfront? Did Bailey really believe me that I was a new employee at Homian Power, or was he jerking my chain, trying to get as much out of me as he could?

“I’d better not.” My voice cracked. “It would be just my luck to get caught in my new bosses’ office.” I searched blinding with my hand, my arm twisted behind me, for the elevator button. I found it.

“Hm.” Bailey removed his hand from my backside and crossed his arms over his chest.

The elevator chimed and the doors swooshed open. I smiled as I backed in. “Maybe some other time then, when you’re no longer on the bottom rung.” The guard’s voice didn’t ring with humour or enthusiasm.

            “A date then,” I said as I pressed the button for the main floor, then held down the one to close the door. Once I was alone, and the elevator was on its way down, I sunk to my knees. I remained that way, curled up tight for the whole of the ride. My head hung forward, my shoulders hunched as I tried to get a handle on my breathing. When the elevator halted on the ground floor, I forced myself to my feet and staggered across the lobby and out onto the street. I stumbled all the way to the alley without realizing where my body was taking me.

            “Clare?” He had waited for me. “Claire, are you all right? Did you get it?”

            I could sense that Jason was close, although I couldn’t see him. It was too dark…and my sight had gone blurry. Then a pair of strong, warm hands grabbed me by my forearms as my knees gave out, pulling me into a hug, rather than allowing me to sink to the pavement. I hadn’t been held so close by someone in years. Not since my father’s funeral, and my mother had said goodbye to me at the train station.

            “Clare, are you all right? Are you hurt? You’re shaking.” Jason attempted to pull me tighter to him, but I shoved him away with as much strength as I could summon.

            “I am never, ever doing something like that again.” I tossed the thumb drive at Jason. It bounced off his chest, then clattered to the ash fault. “I want no further part in this. Don’t ever call me, or wait for me at the library again or I’ll call the police. Goodbye.” I kicked off my shoes, abandoning them in the alley, then took a series of running steps to get myself into the air. It required all my remaining energy to take flight, maybe it was the excess adrenaline that helped me manage it, but I was aloft, I was free, and I was going to crash as soon as I reached my apartment.

The end!

Well, not really the end of the whole story, but the end of this part of the story.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 16

I clicked around on the desktop icons, but there wasn’t anything immediately apparent that might lead me to the desired information. If this was my computer, I’d keep important work numbers and addresses in a spreadsheet. Opening Excel I scanned over the recently opened files list.

“Bingo,” I whispered. The second file from the top was labelled “Homian Power Site Addresses.” There were multiple sites? That could make things tricky. I checked my time: it was passed eight-thirty. I’d been in the building for twenty minutes already. Would Jason actually leave like I’d told him to, or would he wait in the alley all night? Worse, would he attempt to storm Homian Research in search of me?

I removed the only other item hiding in my pocket, a thumb drive, and plugged it into the computer. In under a minute I’d made a copy of the file, and was giving myself another five to see if there was anything else useful before I logged out and made my escape. I saved a couple more files to my drive just for the heck of it, returned it to my pocket, then sat back in the chair and sighed. Had it really been that simple? I probably shouldn’t relax just yet. I stood, straightened my skirt then walked toward the glass door, breathing easier than I had all night. As I reached to push the door open it swung wide from the other side. In front of me, blocking my way was Bailey Cousins.

“Good evening, Ms. Banks,” he said with a grin bordering on menacing spread across this face. “Nice to see you again.”

I smiled. “Nice to see you too, I was just on my way out.” Was he going to detain me?

“How long did you say you’ve been working with Homian Power?” Bailey leaned against the door frame, his arm stretched over head, totally blocking the way.

“Just a few days.” I was the mouse trapped in a cats clutches. I swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump forming in my throat, then leaned in a little closer to Bailey. Hopefully I didn’t appear as robotic as I felt.

“Hm.” Bailey, who was easily over six feet tall looked down at me. “Funny thing—I checked the building personnel files and I couldn’t find a Serena Banks anywhere on the list.”

Fuck. I had to suppress the chill that tingled at my spine, as I desperately tried to think of a reasonably lie. “I’m recently divorced. All my ID is still under my husband’s name, Parker.”

“Recently divorced?” Bailey reached out and played with the collar of my coat.

My blood turned to ice. How was I going to get myself out of here?

I stepped even closer to Bailey, so that my body was pressed up against him. “Very recently.” Then I slipped passed the guard and squeezed through the doorway into the elevator lobby. I had turned, looking over my shoulder. “Perhaps I’ll see you around sometime?”
To be continued...look for more of the story on Tuesday, May 13th, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 15

“Sorry, Miss.” The man paused as he looked me over from head to toe. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

I smiled again. “I’m new.” I tugged at the end of my braid, curling the end around my index finger. “I forgot a file I need to work from home.”

“Just started and already putting in overtime.” The guard chuckled as he leaned in close to me, reaching around me to press the elevator button. His face was inches from mine.

I laughed. “You know how it is, start a new job and you have to work twice as hard as everyone else until you’re no longer on the bottom rung.” I carefully stepped around the man, giving him a little curtsy that I hoped looked cute, then strode toward the double doors of Homian’s offices. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” the guard said as the elevator doors swung open. “What was your name again?”

I pivoted, almost loosing balance on my high heels. My cheeks flared hot, but hopefully the man couldn’t see from his place across the room. “Serena Banks.” I flashed my biggest smile yet as I delivered the name of my first year dorm roommate.

“Bailey Cousins.” Mr. Cousins delivered a crisp salute in my direction then stepped onto the elevator.

I released a huge gush of air once the elevator readout showed its occupant was travelling downward. One obstacle down, now I had to actually get into the offices. Was the card of a girl who’d disappeared weeks ago really going to let me in? They must have deactivated it, or put a flag on it to alert someone if it was used. Turning to the doors once more I reached for the card reader fixed to the right side of the entrance. I swiped the card. The light on the side of the readers flashed yellow then beeped red. I peeked over my shoulder to see if the elevator was still on its way down—it was. I swiped the card a second time, slower, making sure the whole card passed through the reader. The flight flickered yellow, and this time it glowed green.

Relief flooded me as I grabbed the handle of the door, then accidentally flung it open so hard it crashed into the wall behind it. My heart beat slowly slightly, at least so it no longer felt like it was going to leap from my chest. I might be able to do this after all.

I pulled the slip of paper that held my instructions and passcodes out of my pocket. I was to search the main administrative computer. When I looked up from the paper I realized the enormous glass-topped desk in front of me bore a brass plate that read “reception.” This must be it. I rounded the corner, plopped myself into the ergonomically shaped chair, then giggled the mouse to wake up the computer. The password screen popped up and I carefully typed in the twelve digit code I’d been given. After another whirr from the hard drive, the user settings loaded—I was in.

To be continued,...look for the next installment on Thursday, May 8th, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 14

I set my gaze straight ahead and walked toward the open sidewalk.

“Claire?” Jason voice sounded uncertain, almost choked.

I paused and pivoted, hands on my hips. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

I shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” I turned and walked swiftly so he couldn’t interrupt me again, disrupt my resolve to get this job over and done with.

When I reached the mouth of the alley I stopped, and peaked over my shoulder. If Jason was still there, he’d hidden himself well. I rounded the corner of the tower and breathed deeply, trying to keep my heart rate under control—innocent people weren’t flushed and out of breath when they showed up at the office late on a Friday night. I would have loved a cigarette, but I left them at home.

The walk to the entrance of the Sears Tower lasted long enough for me to blink. Despite my efforts, by the time I rested my hand on the cross bar of the revolving doors I was near hyperventilation. I took another long, slow inhalation, lifted my chin parallel to the ground, and strode through. If you acted like you were supposed to be somewhere you weren’t, people would be less suspicious of you.

The elevators were on the opposite side of the lobby, straight across from the main doors. As I crossed the cavernous lobby, my heels clacked against the marble floors, making such a racket I wouldn’t have been surprised if a security guard would pop up out of nowhere and arrest me. I reached the elevators unscathed and jabbed the call button. A moment later the elevator arrived. Selecting the twenty-second floor the doors slid closed and I was on my way up.

Like the walk to the front doors, the elevator ride was alarmingly short. When the doors swooshed open I was able to take one stride before I froze.

“Good evening.” A man dressed in a khaki shirt and pants blocked my way to the Homian office door, which I could see behind him. He looked like a security guard, but he also could have been the man I saw fire on Jason that night a week ago—I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him, and hopefully he hadn’t gotten a good look at me either.

“Good evening.” I said, stepping again, bringing myself within arm’s reach of the guard. “You scared me.” I smiled broadly, and fluttered my eyelids for good measure.

To be continued...look for new content on Tuesday, May 6th, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 13

I tucked the last stray stands of hair into my braid then grabbed a lint brush and gave my blazer a couple of go-overs. The last time I wore these clothes was at the interview that garnered me my current position with the public library. Now I’d be using them to commit a felony—or was it multiple felonies? Breaking and entering,...I planned to snoop, but not actually remove anything from Homian’s offices, so that seemed like one felony, unless this could be consider industrial espionage.

I grabbed a grey trench coat from the hall closet, then took one last look around my apartment. The lights and stove were off, and my computer was in sleep mode. Sighing, I headed out the door, locking it behind me.

In the alley behind my apartment building I took of my heeled shoes, holding one in each hand then closed my eyes. In my mind I pictured each bone in my body, imaging them full of holes like a birds. I imagined my lungs swelling with air, picking me off the ground the way a hot air balloon would its basket. Slowly I rolled onto my toes, until they could no longer touch the ground, and gradually I gained altitude.

In the distance I could see the Sears Tower—causing my stomach to flip. Why had I agreed to this again? Because I was a sucker, and the picture of the pretty girl in my trench coat was convincing. How did I know this wasn’t an elaborate trap?

Once I reached the Tower, I manoeuvered myself toward the alley where I’d first met Jason. As I descended, I peered over my toes to spot the ground and watch for possibly witnesses. The alley looked empty from my vantage point, several stories up, so I focused my energy into my feet, pushing against the air as I continued to lower myself down. I tightened my abdominal muscles to keep myself upright, and prepare for the landing that was soon to follow. When my toes brushed the ground I relaxed all the muscles I’d been holding tight, and settled onto my legs, which had been inactive during the journey.

“Wow, Claire. You look great. If I hadn’t seen you land, I wouldn’t have believed it was you.”

I scowled, but didn’t respond. He must have been hiding, possibly behind the dumpster a few feet away. I dropped my shoes to the ground and stepped into them.

“Ah come on, Claire.” Jason stepped toward me, motioning as if he wanted to grab my wrist or shoulder, but ended up shoving his hand in his pocket. “Sorry. Thanks for not being too late, I wasn’t looking forward to waiting for you all night.”

“I’d be more suspicious if I was lurking around Homian’s offices at midnight, don’t you think?” I checked my watch: quarter past eight. “I’m going in. If I’m not back in an hour, just go. I’m probably not coming out on my own, and you’ll have another person to try to rescue.”

To be continued...look for another installment of the story on Thursday, May 1st, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 12

A hand clamped down on my shoulder, anchoring me to my spot.

“Please don’t take off.”

I sighed. “I won’t. Not here. It's still daylight.”

“Do you trust anyone?” Jason released the pressure from my shoulder as his hand slid down to the crook of my elbow. A tingling sensation washed over my skin, unaccustomed to such close contact with another person, even if it was through the fabric of my jacket.

“I trust me.” I pealed Jason’s hand from my arm.

“That must be lonely.”

Oddly, I was disappointed he didn’t try to touch me again. What was I thinking? Jason was trouble. I was sure. And we were trying to rescue his girlfriend. I shook my head to dislodge the confusing thoughts that lingered there and continued walked. “What do you want me to look for when I break into Homian’s offices?”

Jason dug through his pockets, and after a moment held out a folded sheet of paper. “All I want is the location of Homain’s other research facility—the one where the conduct human research.”

“And how do you expect me to find that out?” I’d practically been reeled in now. All I had to do was wait to be gutted and placed in the frying pan—which was probably what would happen when I tried to sneak into Homain.

“Check the administrative files. I’m sure files and records are being couriered back and forth between locations. Even if the assistants don’t know what’s going in those facilities, they have to know their addresses.”

“Hm.” I picked at a fleck on my jacket.

“The sooner the better.” Jason said as he tentatively extended his hand and the paper further toward me.

I snapped the sheet up between my index and middle fingers. “Fine. I’ll go tonight.”

If I bothered to look, I suspect Jason was grinning from ear-to-ear. As it was, his tone of voice was awfully jovial. “Prefect. Great. Their offices are on the twenty-second floor. Agatha’s card should get you in, and don’t worry the cards just active the doors, they don’t tell the security system who owns the card. All the passwords are that paper. We just need the location of their other research facilities. And…”

As Jason paused I could almost feel his gaze as it swept me over from head to foot.

“Yes?”

“If you could wear something a little more professional…”

I frowned, but understood. I dressed like a poor grad student. “For the record, I think this is a bad idea.” I slipped the sheet of paper into my shoulder bag.

“You’ll be fine.” Was Jason an unsquashable optimist, or was he stupid?

I shrugged. “Whatever.” Then I turned preparing to leave.

“I’ll see you tonight…at the Tower.”

I didn’t look back, but kept walking toward the subway entrance a half a block ahead.

“What time—?”

“Whenever I get there.” I jogged the remaining distance to the stairs, leaving Jason behind me on the sidewalk.

To be continued...look for more of the story on Tuesday, April 29th, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 11

Not until my phone read 6:00 p.m. did I headed for the elevator and down to the lobby. The least I could do was make Jason wait it out a couple more minutes, make him wonder if I’d changed my mind. Of course, when I finally rode the elevator down to the main floor of the library, and the doors slid back, he was waiting for me.

“Don’t you have a job?” I said once we were within a reasonable speaking range from each other.

“Nice to see you, too.”

Jason smiled, but I kept my expression neutral. Seeing Jason wasn’t nice. Seeing him meant I was jeopardizing my freedom.

“Let’s walk.” I kept my tone even and severe. I wanted to remain in control of the meeting as much as possible. I rushed past Jason, down the steps to the sidewalk. I headed off at a random direction, keeping my eyes forward. Looking too much at Jason and his expressive features might cause me to lose my focus.

“Could we sit down?” Jason easily kept up with my brisk pace.

“No.” I paused on the street corner as I waited for the light to turn green. “I’ve been sitting all day.” The light turned and I charged across the intersection.

Jason stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. “How do I know you won’t just take off if you don’t like what I have to say?”

“You don’t.” I checked my watch. “I have somewhere else to be in an hour, so hurry up.”

Jason grunted. He probably didn’t like my unwillingness to commit, but that’s the way I was going to play. I’d been keeping my secret for nearly twenty years and I still walked the streets because I kept to myself.

“What’s the plan?”

He snuck a peek over his shoulder before he spoke. No doubt Agatha had spent a lot of time checking for eavesdroppers who may or may not have been there before she disappeared. “You’ll need to sneak into the Homain Research office—I’ve got a list of computer passwords.”

“Won’t they have changed the passwords by now?” Maybe I could reason myself out of this predicament.

Jason shook his head. “I’ve got it covered A friend of Agatha’s can get them and pass them on to me.”

“Convenient.” I checked out the store front displays rather than look at my companion.

“Maybe.” Jason’s voice took on a hard-edge. “Or maybe she’s just worried about what’s happened to Agatha. Didn’t that occur to you? That people could be nice with no strings attached?”

"No, there are always strings attached," I said then turned the corner.

To be continued...look for new content on Thursday, April 24th, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 10

I didn’t return to my apartment until early the next morning. Once the sunset I spent my entire evening sitting on top of the Sears tower, the supposed location of Homian Power Research. What did they want with me? Agatha Morland? Or others who had special powers? I stayed on the rooftop until my teeth chattered and my fingers and toes had gone numb. When I arrived home I could barely manipulate my keys and fit it into the lock on my door. I went straight to my bedroom, peeled of my chilled clothing and replaced them with a thick terrycloth robe then crawled into bed.

Friday morning I made my coffee at home and as I approached the library I kept my eyes peeled for any signs of Jason. He had proven himself persistent thus far, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find him waiting for me now. I found no hint of him. Not his expensive jacket, nor his fine leather shoes. A small part of me was actually disappointed not to find him. How could I be disappointed? He way annoying, and he was going to wind up getting me into trouble. I dashed up the stars and crossed the lobby toward the elevators.

I’d only had enough time to take off my jacket and hang it off the back of my chair when my phone rang. I stared at the object sitting on my desk. No one called me. If anyone wanted to talk to me, they either walked over to my desk or e-mailed me.

“Good morning, Claire Lamont speaking.” I held my breath as I waited for the reply.

“Hi Claire.” It was Jason.

I sighed as I dropped to my seat, swivelling the chair toward the window and away from my coworkers. “How did you get this number?”

“It was easier than you might think.”

“Hm.” I said. The library website provided a great deal of information if you knew where to look for it.

“Have you thought about our talk last night?”

“Yes.” I had had plenty of time to think about it, although I hadn’t devoted much time to answering the question, since I knew what I’d do almost immediately after taking off last night.

“And?”

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening, not that my coworkers would have understood much from my end of the conversation. “I’ll need further instructions.”

“I knew you’d help.” Jason’s voice rang with triumph.

“I’m done at 5:30.” I kept my voice flat.

“Can we meet sooner?”

“No. And don’t call this number again.” I swung around in my seat to face the rest of the office and hung up. Closing my eyes, I leaned my elbows on my desk and rested my forehead in my hands. I stayed this way from a few seconds as a wave of nausea passed over me.

To be continued...look for more of the story on Tuesday, April 22nd, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 9

*So I missed last week, sorry about that...I'm working 2 part-time jobs at the moment. I'll keep these posts going until I've wrapped up the portion of story I'm intending to share.*

“You can’t ignore this.” Jason was close behind me.

I closed my eyes, and imaged what I’d have to do to ignore it. I’d have to leave the city, fine some obscure small town in the middle of nowhere—in need of an experienced librarian. “Do you want to rescue just your girlfriend, or anyone else who’s been kidnapped by Homain?”

“Everyone, of course.” The crack in Jason’s voice told the truth, that his girlfriend was his main concern, and if anyone else was freed in the meantime that would be acceptable.

I pivoted so I faced Jason, crossing my hands over my chest as I moved. His eyes were focused on the ground, turned slightly away from me like he might be on the verge of more tears. I sighed. “Do you have a plan?” I was flirting dangerously close to be sucked in.

Jason’s mouth opened, but he didn’t immediately reply.

“You don’t have one.” I sipped my coffee. Great, just great.

Jason swallowed, then stepped toward me, reaching inside his jacket as he moved. Is this it then? Is he from Homian Power Research? Am I about to get shot point-blank? I had enough time to step, or more like stumble backward before he withdrew his hand to hold out an ID card.

I stuttered as I released my breath.

“I need someone to go back into the Homain Power offices and locate their actual research lab.” Jason didn’t seem to notice my momentary freak out, or at least politely ignored it.

“What do you mean someone? Didn’t you say the security man could identify me?” I eyed the ID card.

“They chased me out of there once, I can’t go back.” He shoved the badge in my hand and totally ignored my question.

I held it gingerly, like it would explode in my hands, as I turned it over. A picture of a young brunette was printed on it, with the name Agatha Morland written beneath. “You’re girlfriend?”

Jason didn’t look directly at me, he was more focused on the wall behind me. “I found this card inside her day planner. She'd tucked it under her pillow.”

“Convenient.” I kicked at a loose chunk of ash fault. Neither of us seemed willing to face the other.

“Will you help me?” The words were nothing more than a whisper.

The small part of me that cared, the ounce of compassion still lingering inside me was gaining the upper hand. How could I look at the picture of smiling Agatha Morland and say no? I clenched my fingers tight around the card so the thin plastic edge dug into my palm. “I’ll have to think about it.” I said, then turned, dumped my coffee on the ground, and with two long strides, shot into the air.

To be continued...look for more of the story on Thursday, April 17th, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 8

“Hi Claire,” said the clerk behind the counter.

Regret flooded me. I shouldn’t come to a place where I was familiar, even if they knew nothing more about me than my first name. The overly friendly staff might ask me who Jason was on a subsequent visit, but I couldn’t turn tail and run now, it was too late. The only thing left was to cross my fingers that they’d forget I’d had a companion so I ordered my coffee to go.

Jason asked for the same then placed a five dollar bill on the counter.

“Is that together?” The clerk raised his eyebrow at me as he rang in our order. He almost seemed in disbelief that I could be here with someone. I couldn’t blame him, I’d come in alone almost everyday for the past year.

“No.” I dug through my purse for my wallet.

“Yes.” Jason pushed the bill across the counter.

“No, here.” I dumped my coins on the counter, one rolling away in my haste. I wouldn’t own Jason anything, not even the price of coffee.

The clerk’s gaze flickered between the two of us, clearly trying to figure out what was going on, so I fixed my most annoyed expression on my face to discourage inquiry. Whether he took the hint, or wasn’t all that interested after all, he took our money, handed Jason his change, then poured our drinks. Cup in hand, I left the coffee shop without another word. What had I been thinking? Jason’s good looks and sob story were clouding my judgement.

“Have I done something wrong?” It sounded as though Jason was stomping on the sidewalk beside me.

In no better humour myself, I pounded forward. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, I don’t like getting involved with people.” I was barely keeping my voice under control. “I avoid relationships to keep myself safe, and now you seem determined to force yourself and your problems on me.”

Jason grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop. He stared at me as he breathed heavily through flared nostrils, then yanked me toward a nearby alleyway. Once we were partially secluded from the street he released his grip, but the glare he gave me was sufficient to hold me in place. “You need to look outside your own bubble, Claire.”

“And you need to accept that I don’t want to get involved.”

“Then why did you save me?”

“Bad impulse.” I shrugged, then walked deeper into the alley. Sunset was still an hour away, but if getting into the air meant getting out of this conversation and away from Jason, I’d consider it. I kept my gaze focused on the rectangle of light that indicated the street on the other end. No footsteps sounded behind me.

“Homian Power Research.” He was testing me, trying to bait me. I wouldn’t accept the challenge. “They research humans with unique powers for the military.”

My fingers went numb. “Fuck.”

To be continued...look for more of the story on Tuesday, April 8th, 2014

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 7

I stayed at my desk until five-thirty, once everyone else in my department had left. I held my breath as I rode the elevator down to the first floor. Would he be waiting for me, or had he taken the hint that I wanted to be left alone? When the doors slid open, I had to prevent myself from sprinting to the exit, but then immediately wished I had let loose when I heard my name called from somewhere off to my right.

“Claire.”

I bit my knuckles to muffle the scream that rose to my lips. I whipped around on my heel in time to see him crossing the library lobby. “Are you always this desperate and stalker-ish?” My voice sounded more like a hiss than a regular human voice.

“When my girlfriend’s life is at stake.” He bit his lip, and looked away for a moment, like he was trying to stifle a sob.

Uh-oh, tears. Even me, with my crusty, hard exterior hated seeing someone cry. I swallowed and shifted my gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

“This affects you too, you know.” If I wasn’t mistaken, Jason’s voice broke slightly. “Their security man might be able to recognize you, and if he does, they’ll come for you.”

I curled my fingers into fists, as I slowly reorganized my mental armour. I wouldn’t relent. Distance was my only defense. I’d kept my parents aloof for years. As far as I knew, they had no idea of the freak show their daughter had turned into. It was safer for me, and for them. I turned to go. “They’ll only come sooner if I help you.”

“At least if you helped me you’d know who and what you’re facing.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly. He was right, kind of, anyway. If I helped, I might have the chance to be prepared for a potential threat. Know who they were and what they intended to do with me once they caught me. I wanted to think if they caught me, but that was dangerously optimistic. I exhaled, my eyes still shut. “There’s a small coffee shop a few blocks away.”

I didn’t wait for a response. If he wanted to talk to me, he would follow, and sure enough, after a few strides I heard his steps fall in synch with mine. Neither of us spoke as we walked, which suited me fine. My nerves grew unsettled with each block. I never went out to coffee with anyone, let alone an attractive young man who knew what I was, and wanted to help me—for my help in return.

To be continued...look for more of the story on Thursday, April 3rd, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 6

I took several long steps back. “I don’t want your help.”

Jason stared at me, leaning forward like he wanted to eliminate the gap between us, but he held his ground. “I can help people like you.”

People like…me?

“Didn’t you think there were others?” Jason kept his voice low as he stepped closer.

Every inch of my body screamed to back away, to run back into the library, but I stayed put, crossing my hands over my chest. “Of course,” I said, keeping my voice low, and my gaze locked on this strange young man. “Of course, I assumed—”

Jason opened his mouth.

“—but I don’t care.” I pivoted and my heel, headed for the library at full steam, chucking my cigarette on the pavement when I reached the wide front stairs. I took two steps at a time, gasping a little in my hurry.

“How can you not care?” The ever-athletic-seeming Jason had caught up to me, and kept pace. He didn’t even have the decency to appear out of breath.

“Because I don’t.” Because in this case, I doubted safety was in numbers. Groups of people with “special skills” would create a larger target for someone to hunt us down; to capture us and lock us away in the top secret government facilities I imagined had to exist somewhere. Living on my own meant that I had no one but myself to depend upon. I felt safe alone.

“You don’t, or you won’t?” Jason stepped in front of me, barring my way—his habit of doing that was growing annoying.

“Take your pick.” I said, then pushed past him. I was only a couple of strides away from the entrance.

“Stop pretending you don’t care, Claire.”

I froze, my hand partially extended toward the door. “I’m not pretending.” I clenched my teeth.

“Then why are you still standing here?” An irritatingly smug smile spread across Jason’s face.

I levelled my best glare at my…companion…as the muscles in my jaw grew sore. Why was I standing here? Maybe because Jason was pleasant to look at, or because despite my best efforts, I actually needed human contact, so much so that the desire to be touched was building into a humming sensation across my skin. Or, it could be because he was so infuriating I couldn’t think rationally.

“Look,” Jason inched closer to me, checking over his shoulders then mine as he moved. “The other night, when we met, I was trying to break into the research offices where my girlfriend used to work. She disappeared—”

“So call the police.”

“She was like you, special.” His voice was so low I could barely make out what he said. “She could run fast. Faster than the high speed trains in Japan, and her employers found out.”

“I-can’t-help.” I clenched everything. My teeth, my fists, every joint tensed. Then I forced myself forward, my gaze locked straight ahead of me. I wasn’t going to get involved in this. I yanked back one of the front doors to the library, my feet pounding against the floor as I steam-lined it to the elevator. I didn’t bother to check behind me to see if Jason followed, I sensed by the cool breeze at my back that he wasn’t there.

To be continued...check back for more of the story on Tuesday, April 1st (no fools!)

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 5

Light streamed in from the living room windows when I woke up several hours later. I’d passed out in the entrance of my apartment still wearing my jacket, my key chain cupped inside my hand. It took me several minutes to remember everything that had happened the night before, but it came back. Would there be backlash in response to my careless exposure? It might depend on what that man was doing on the roof of the Sears Tower, and why he’d chased by the second man with the gun.

I spent both Saturday and Sunday night out at the north end of town, although it turned out that there were no apartment buildings tall enough to get a good view of the city from. Instead, I spent most of my time walking the street, and keeping my head down. Monday at work was dreadful, I’d slept so little all weekend, a trend which continued on into Tuesday and Wednesday, that I could barely keep my eyes open. By Thursday, when I’d received no unexpected visitors dressed in dark, nondescript suits, I decided it would be safe to enjoy the return of fine weather and eat my lunch outside.

Thursday was sunny, and warm, and I peeled off my jacket a few minutes after sitting down on a bench across from the library. I dug through my purse for a moment searching for my cigarettes, which I eventually found in the bottom of the bag, then rifled through the contents a second time for my lighter. Leaning back, I raised my cigarette to my lips and lit it.

“You know, those things will kill you.”

My heart pounded and I nearly dropped my cigarette. The speaker’s voice was nightmarishly familiar. I took another drag, and fully exhaled before I looked up to confirm my suspicions. For a mysterious, possibly dangerous man, he was alarmingly attractive…and young. “So will jumping off of buildings,” I said as calmly as possible.

“You remember me?” The man smiled, then dropped onto the bench next to me.

I stood up, and scanned the sidewalk. Everything looked normal, everyone looked busy, hurrying to appointments, shopping, whatever people did on their lunch breaks. No one was interested, or even cared that I was here with this strange young man who I’d saved from plummeting to his death a week ago.

“How did you find me?” I took a wide step back to make sure I was out of arm’s reach. I couldn’t take off in the middle of the day, but I could probably sprint back to the library without anyone noticing my feet weren’t touching the ground.

“You said you were a librarian, Claire.” He grinned.

“Hm,” was the best reaction I could muster. A little warning bell rang in the back of my mind went off. How long had he been looking for me? His determination was nothing short of alarming. Despite the warm weather, goose pimples flared up along my arms.

“I’m Jason, by the way. I don’t think I’ve said that.”

He held out his hand to me, but I only stared at him.

“Would you care to sit?” Jason motioned to the spot that I’d vacated.

“I’d prefer to stand,” I said, then took another drag on my cigarette.

Jason popped up from the bench and shoved his hands in his pockets, causing his shoulders to hunch forward slightly. He looked uncomfortable and nervous as he paced in front of me, not like the highly trained government-agent type. “Look, I need your help.” Jason stopped mid-stride and pivoted toward me. “And I can help you.”

To be continued...look for more of the story on Thursday, March 27th, 2014.

Short story project: Unidentified Flying Object, Part 4

The man latched onto my wrist again. “No need for thanks? You saved my life. The least I could do would be to buy you a drink—I think I need a whiskey at least.”

I continued forward, swinging my arm as I tried to free myself from the man’s hold. I couldn’t get into the air with someone hanging off me. “No thanks, I don’t drink.” Breaking his grip I broke into a run.

“A coffee then?” The man jogged along beside me, then cut in front of me, blocking my path.

I stopped, but checked over my shoulder to see if anyone had appeared at the far end of the alley. “Look,” I scanned the space in front of me, calculating whether or not I had the room to side step the man and take off. “It was nothing. Forget it and definitely don’t mention it.”

“Of course I won’t, but—”

“Good.” I knocked shoulders with the man as I pushed past him. Time was wasting and I needed to get in the air, it was a miracle that the man with the gun hadn’t caught up with us already. I started to jog.

“I can help you.”

I tripped and stumbled into a pile of boxes, but managed to stay upright. Pausing only a second to catch my breath, I continued down the alley. If I couldn’t get air born, I could walk to the nearest subway station and take public transit like a normal person. “I don’t need help.”

The man caught up to me, but rather than trying to get me to stop, he kept pace with me instead. “I know what you are, I can—”

“I’m a librarian, nothing more,” I said as I reached for a cigarette. “The only way you can help me is by saying nothing, just like how I won’t tell anyone you were…trespassing, at least.”

“I can help you,” the man said quietly.

We walked the remaining length of the alley. I smoked, while my companion remained silent. When we reached the street, I dropped what remained of my cigarette to the ground, then viciously stomped it out with my heel. “I don’t want help, I don’t need saving, I’m just Claire, nothing more.”

Then I turned, took two hard steps generating as much momentum as I could, and launched myself into the air. I shot up as fast and as hard as I could to get out of easily identifiable range. It was risky to take off from the street where I could be seen, at least it was late Friday night, and most of the pedestrians out were probably drunk. I had to get home. I was starving. The two jet-paced accelerations this evening had drained me. At this point I’d be lucky if I made it back to my apartment without tumbling from the sky.

To be continued...look for more of the story next Tuesday, March 25th, 2014