To Whom It May Concern: by M.J. Garrett (books to get back into reading .TXT) 📕

the secret that everyone had. Her courage and command would leave her body as her soul slowly lifting out of her shameful chest.

Tears would form in her pouty aging eyes, as her husband would return 20 or 30 minutes later with a dying erection that was supposed to be meant for her. She lay there, not with anger or disgust, but with jealousy. Her very husband, hiding his secret in the ass and mouth of their troubled adopted son, as he wiped the semen from his only begotten son’s eyes and rubbed in across his sinless beautiful smiling lips.

*

Laying there alone in her bed, a wife and a mother rolled over looking at the doll she once held while in fear, propped on top of their newly purchased dark oak dresser. The doll she has had since she was a child stared back at her with her chipped marble eyes, ratty blonde hair, and hand stitched smile.

Mother glances at the clock on the nightstand, 2:08 a.m. She lifts herself from the bed and slides her vein covered boney feet into her house shoes. As she stands up, her pink night gown falls from the gathering spot around her waist and thighs to full length around her calves. She zombies her way into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of boxed wine she kept chilled in her refrigerator. Circling her glass in the air next to her lips, she presses her paintless lips against the cup and downs the wine like a cheap shot of whisky.

Standing there in the dark, she ponders her feelings of disgust. Her husband, always there but not really there; wasn’t there tonight. Working late…again. She’s so tired of everything. She’s tired of her secrets. She’s tired of his secrets. She’s tired of secrets in general. Mother, with her hair a mess and eyes filled with tears, reaches for the large stainless steel knife that rested in the wooden block of the knife collection. She wraps her hesitant fingers around the handle and stands there in the dark.
*

Chief, sitting in the car, pulls out the shiny blood stained photos and spreads them on the seat beside him. He places some on the dash and even smiles when he figures out that they could stick to the window using Mrs. Galloway's blood as the adhesive. Smoke billowing out of his nose and mouth, his smile becomes more of a chuckle as he flips through the scented blood stained notes from his son.

Almost laughing, he rests his head back against the headrest. Jealousy, anger, embarrassment; there are so many feelings and none of them worth the hassle.

Pulling his black city issued pistol from his jacket pocket, he glances at the photos. Pressing his lips together, he shakes his head with acceptance. The dark shadows from the pillars and bridge hide his car from the world. They hide his secrets and they bury his shame.

With the sound of the city racing overhead and the silent shadows creeping around by the light of the moon, a quick flash from his muzzle lights the inside of the car with a bang that no one hears.

*

Standing there in the dark with a small glass half full of wine. Maybe half empty, let’s not be pessimistic. She grips the stainless steel knife with her white knuckles and trembling hand. Her eyes, starting to dry from her resolve, close as she is prepared to do what she has to do to end this nightmare. Setting the glass down on the marble cabinet, she turns and walks toward the dinner table. The food still placed on dinner plates, cold and stale, she sits at the place she has for years waiting for his arrival.

Sitting there, knowing tonight he’s not coming home until his adventure under the bridge with some cheap whore, who probably has a cock sucker's neck brace, is complete and paid for; she takes the knife and presses the sharp cold tip against the side of her frail neck. The tip of the knife trying hard not to break the skin, she can’t fight the tremble of her unsteady hand. Her eyes closed and filled with resolve, she squeezes her jaw shut and shoves the knife into the side of her neck.

Gurgling noises begin to fill the dark kitchen as she tries so hard to bring air into her lungs through her severed wind pipe. Her hand falls from the handle of the knife and lands on a plate filled with cold mashed potatoes and Stouffers Salisbury steak and gravy. With what life she has left in her body, she grabs the table and fights to stand up. With no feeling in her legs and no strength to stand, her gurgling body falls to the floor, shaking and twitching as her eyes widen.

To Whom It May Concern:
Give me liberty or give me death.


CHAPTER 29

Carla and Nate, sitting across the table from each other, are eating cereal and smiling. A relationship consummated. Breakfast at a table has never seemed so comfortable. Both of them, lost in the ecstasy of a night that reached a level of emotion that neither of them have ever enjoyed before, sit there looking into each other’s eyes without saying a word. They just gaze at each other, smiling uncontrollably, like two kids who shared each other’s deepest and darkest secrets without fear of letting them fly.

“How is your eye?” Nate asked, as he poked around the bowl of cereal with his spoon.

“It's doing better. Do we have to talk about it?” She looked at him with her head sarcastically cocked to one side with her lips pulled tight in a smile. She found herself wanting to smile in amusement of the night’s event, but couldn't let him see her laughing at herself. “So...where do we go from here? You know, with our...I don't know...how do you say...super powers?” she asked as she leaned on her elbows and shoveled a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

“I don't know. I don't even know what it is.” Nate said with a hint of displeasure and confusion.

Carla, speaking with polite authority, says, “Look, I didn't want to bring this up, but we have the opportunity to right a lot of wrong. We need to work together! We can take this 'gift' and crush them!” Carla's eyes starting to turn black as she sternly pounds her fist on the table. With the milk in the bowls rippling from the jolt of Carla's forceful plea and the cereal box rocking back and forth, trying to avoid the fall, Nate looks at her as her eyes begin to gloss over with a numbing gaze. Nate ponders her plea, as his fist begin to tighten up, knowing that the only wrong he wanted to right was putting an end to the one person that deserved his wrath.

“You're right!” he said as he stood up from his chair. “You are right!” Both of them, breathing heavy and chest pounding in anxious excitement, look at each other with their eyes as black as the darkest night. “I just need to make one quick stop.” he said as he darted from the table and headed for the door.

“Nate, wait a minute!”

“What is it?” he turned around and looked at her with his chest pounding in anticipation.

“Your clothes!” she said. He looked at her in a moment of confusion. “Your clothes! Go put on some clothes!”

Standing there naked with his downstairs mix-up dangling and waiting for the world to see, he quickly glanced up at Carla in slight embarrassment. “You know, it's unusually cold in here.”

“Sure keep telling yourself that!” she said as her naked tattooed body gracefully left the kitchen toward the bedroom.

“It's shrinkage!!” He pleaded to her as the door shut behind her.

*

Facing each other across the felt covered table, the two of them glared at each other with respect and resentment. One leaned onto his forearms with a stoned face and squinty eyes and the other leaned back into his chair peering out of the corners of his eyes, smiling as if he had a card up his sleeve. God and the shape-shifter. Most would consider them as a sort of mismatched union, a complex marriage of distrust and respect, but today....maybe just a cautious foe or business partner.

“You know that you can't stop them, right?” the shape-shifter said as he lit his cigarette. “The one thing that you didn't think would happen...actually happened.”

“Your arrogance will get you nowhere. Besides, they will be so distracted with each other that they won't have time to follow your ridiculous plan.” God points at the dealer and taps the table. The dealer quickly tosses two cards to each player and tosses one card to the side. Placing three cards in the center of the table, the dealer looks at the players and waits for their bet.

“See, that's what I love about you!” the shape-shifter pointed and nonchalantly shook his finger towards God as he smiled. “You, my friend, don't see the big picture. Remember, you said that everyone will eventually pay the house. If these two love birds figure out what they are capable of, things will get a little more difficult for you. Just imagine, moment by moment, these two start executing the world at an alarming rate. You won't be able to keep up! Sinner after sinner, falling by the wayside....I'm getting aroused just thinking about it!”

Looking at his watch, the shape-shifter, dressed in his Sunday's best, cuts off his conversation and holds is watch to his ear. “I'm sure this conversation won't be so one sided the next time we hang out. I have somewhere to be...so if you don't mind...” The shape-shifter looks in the eyes of the Almighty and flips his cards over as to fold his hand. Dressed in a black suit, black shirt, and a very abrasive pink tie; he shapes into the form of a young teenage boy and exits the room.

God smirks as his eyes follow the boy out of the room. Looking down at the felt table with 3 cards showing from the dealer, he looks at the 2 cards left by his nemesis. “Two Aces of Spades?” He chuckles for a second and looks at his own cards to see what he thought he was hiding from his nemesis...Two Aces of Spades.

To whom it may concern:
I guess I'm not the only one cheating at the table.

Sitting there with his arrogant smile, God looks at the dealer. The dealer standing there face to face begins to shift into several different people and smiles back. “Are you not satisfied with your cards?” He said.

Looking around the room, he realizes that everyone is shape-shifting. Confused for a second, he now understands that he is no longer in control of how the game is being played. He stands up and