B. Alexander Howerton by The Wyrding Stone

you, but I love my
home, too.  I cannot allow you to take the city.  I cannot bear the thought of
barbarians treading upon my favorite places.  I’m sorry, my love.”  She pulled
her arm holding the dagger down with all her might, but it barely moved against
the restraining grasp of the Greek.
    Confusion, then sorrow crossed Andros’ face.  “I could have
loved you deeply,” he wailed gravely.  “I intended to make you a queen,
radiantly shining across the area under Tyre’s command.  We were to have
children, and found a dynasty that would last a thousand years.”  He grimly
clamped his lips together, then slowly began drawing the arm with the dagger
down.  As he did so, he turned the point so that it was aiming at Carialla’s
heart.  She struggled to resist, but he had her pinned, and she could not even
slow the inexorable progression of the dagger.  “I’m sorry, my love,” he said
softly, and a tear escaped from his eye as the tip of the dagger broke her soft
olive skin, just above her left breast.  She cried out once, then ceased to
struggle as the dagger entered her heart.
    He bent down, kissed her lightly on her now unmoving lips,
then sat up and turned away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands
on his knees.  As he struggled to gain control of his emotions, his eyes came
to rest on the Isis stone on the dinner table.  It seemed to glow slightly
brighter.  Andros wondered if it could possibly have absorbed Carialla’s
fleeting soul, carrying it to the goddess Isis.

8.   Today — The First Date
    “Hello?”
    “Hi, is this Julia?”
    “Yes.  Who is this?”
    “This is Alan.  How are you?”
    “Alan?  Alan! I remember you.”
    “Yeah, from the wedding.”
    “How did you get my number?”
    “You know, it was kind of tricky.  I had to call my friend
Steve to get Jim and Jane’s number, then I called them and got yours.”
    “Pretty resourceful.”
    “I have my ways.  So how are you doing?  Have you recovered
from that wedding yet?”
    “Yeah, but it took a while.  That was quite the party, wasn’t
it?”
    “Yeah, it took me about three days to bounce back.  So, I
was wondering, are doing anything Friday night?”
    “I don’t know.  What have you got in mind?”
    “Well, a few of us were planning to go down to the BOB and
check out Troll For Trout.  I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come along. 
We could have dinner there before the band starts playing.”
    Julia’s sudden intake of breath was quickly followed by a
very enthusiastic “Yeah.”
    “Great!  Hey, do you like those guys?  I should have asked
first.  I’m sorry.”
    “Yeah, no, yeah, that’s fine.  I mean, sure I like them.”
    “Good.  Great.  Well, ah,  how shall we do this?  I mean, do
you want to meet down there, or should I pick you up, or how shall we do this? 
Whatever you’d like to do is fine with me.”
    “Well, I don’t know.  Let’s see, I work till four thirty,
then I’ll want to shower and get ready.  Why don’t you come over around six
thirty?”
    “Great.  I’ll see you then.”
    “Yeah, this ought to be fun.  See you then.”
    “Hey, wait.  I don’t know how to get to your place.”
    Julia laughed nervously.  “That’s right. That would have
been great.”  She gave Alan directions to her apartment.  “So, I’ll see you
around six thirty?”
    “You can count on it.  See you.”
    “Bye.”
     
    Alan buzzed Julia’s apartment at six twenty-seven.  He held
a bottle of Blush Chablis in his hand.  He had fretted over what to wear, then
finally settled on the old standby of black jeans and a denim shirt, covered
with his favorite sweater, which was basically black with saturated patches of
color strewn asymmetrically about.
    “Hello?”
    Alan leaned closer to the speaker grill.  “Hi.  It’s Alan.”
    “Oh, hi.  Just a moment, OK?”
    “Sure.”  Alan absently twisted the brown paper bag around
the neck of the wine bottle