As I grew older, I became curious about past lives and reincarnation and became an avid reader on the subject. So, when I met Cassondra a few years ago, she was one whom I felt I had known my whole life, and the longer I was around her I sensed with certainty that I had been in one or more of her lives. But the curious aspect was the fact that I seemed to know without question that she had been a prostitute.

She froze. Two women dashed toward the girl and grabbed her arms pulling her toward the group. I could see the women scolding her as if she were a child and then came the tears. The women put their arms around the girl to soothe her or to hide her, I wasn't sure, but before I could assess the true situation the men came back with a couple of blue vans, and they all piled in and drove away.

The women were plain of face with dull brown hair under their caps and some carried babies of various ages. But one young woman was pregnant and looked nothing like the others. She was naturally pretty with a peachy complexion, blonde hair, and big, blue eyes. She seemed to be looking for something. Without turning her head conspicuously, her gaze was darting about almost frantically.

It was always ‘Gwynny and Nina’, short for Gwyndolin and Janina, since first grade. We’d become best friends and have stayed best friends throughout college and into our married lives. Although how long Gwynny will stay married will remain to be seen. It’s a troubled one, and due largely to Gwynny having turned into a real bitch.

I don’t know why exploring an empty house excited me so much since I would likely never know who had lived there or any of its history. But I could make up all kinds of stories of a macabre nature to make the kids squeal in fright and even frighten myself to a point when we’d all turn and run out the door. At the time, it was a silly yet fun moment.

The Pullman was jerked up from the corner.

"Oh, good God! What's this? I was happy living in my peaceful place in the attic. I didn't even mind the cobwebs. So now what? Nobody seems to want me unless there's a big trip coming up, and I'm getting too old for that. I'll likely be thrown around, shoved, and kicked, and will feel smothered until we stop if we're going by plane. I could be thrown atop a berth in a train car, which wouldn't be so bad. But I hope to God this won't be a road trip. I'll be dragged in and out, opened and closed a dozen times, getting no rest whatsoever, and I'll likely even land on some hard, sharp rocks covering some parking lot to a motel or at a campground. I really hate that."

When Jasmin's attorney told the judge about the suit against her ex-boyfriend for unpaid money to her, Jasmin dabbed a tissue to her eyes.

Dear God! Here goes the theatrics. Helen murmured to herself then leaned into Will and whispered, "Do not look at her. She wants you to cave and feel sorry for her, just like the judge, but we both know it's just an act, right?"

Very pregnant Sara, riding the lumbering elevator to the 28th floor to her Midwife's office, had started contractions that morning and was both scared and excited. She glanced at the creeping numbers as she felt another stab of pain, wishing the elevator wasn't so slow.

Helen Richter studied her new client’s information carefully. She had a feeling about this man, Will Pliner, about him being a special kind of person. He was intelligent in his own way, but his kind heart was the big thing that drew her to him. He seemed not to have a harsh bone in his body.

Jasmin, one afternoon, knowing when the neighboring field workers would pass her house after finishing work for the day, timed her plan perfectly. After throwing gasoline on her house, she lit it on fire. She’d wanted the insurance money but didn’t want all her belongings to go up in smoke; thus, her evil-minded plan to have immediate help. When she saw the dust billowing on the dirt road from the vehicles heading toward her, she started screaming for help. She knew that when seeing a damsel in distress, as well as the smoke and the flames, the men would stop and assist. They did.

Our handyman, and new friend, Will Pliner came over one early evening bringing his sister Marta, who was visiting from Texas, to meet us. He also wanted to talk to my husband Jake about a job Jake had called him about. We invited them to sit and join us for our little happy hour to talk about the job and get to know his sister. Will was more than happy to sit and have a drink, because he seemed a bit depressed, which was unusual for him. He was always happy-go-lucky.

As I began stroking, the moans came naturally as I raised my head up and back. The strokes felt so damned good — near cathartic — until I noticed the shower curtain move. I stopped my hand and looked more closely, hoping I had imagined the moving curtain. But then I saw masculine fingers grasp the fabric and plastic barrier to pull aside cautiously.

When the lights flickered out, I saw the evil smile on the face staring in from the other side of the window, and my heart lurched when I realized I hadn’t locked the doors.

My heart was pounding as I dashed to the kitchen door and twisted the deadbolt in place and then quickly ran into the living room to the front door and secured that lock.

Being an early riser, not having a clue what time the sun would decide to pop up, that first morning I went out with time enough not to miss a single minute of its arrival. After I got dressed and eased quietly out the door, I was surprised that it was still dark. No sign of possible daylight as I walked across the street to the beach.

“Likely, if the Federales are really part of the whole trafficking cartel, we can easily spot that fact by how they respond to the men coming out of the cave. If they turn out to be on their side, then I can try to disengage them with my taser and your shovel, the flare gun, and so on. They are good weapons if used right and in a timely manner. We don’t want to be stupid and put ourselves in the line of fire, but if we sneak up on them when they are preoccupied, then I think we can do some damage until the other help arrives.” Cecil told them.

I nodded my acceptance of his order. "Just bring back my wife and stay safe doing it," I pleaded as they turned and left to make their way to the bottom of the earth's rocky opening.

I waited only about fifteen minutes when I heard stomping feet and bodies charging through the underbrush behind me voices that sounded like cursing. The Federales had arrived.

“They wouldn’t have access to firearms, and even if they did, they’d not have ready access to bullets, so they likely wouldn’t bother with that kind of weapon. They are masters with a knife, which they probably make from obsidian found in Chiapas, as well as handmade axes, and machetes. They’d get by and would do a lot of damage with those tools, their meanness, and their hands.”

The more dangerous wildlife came out at night to feed, for one thing, and another, we didn’t know what kind of two-legged creatures were lurking about. Rumors had milled around the community that there was some kind of encampment, deeper within the jungle’s density, of men who were less than civilized. Meaning, I had assumed, that they didn’t care what they took or who they hurt when it came to wanting something for themselves. No one had actually seen this camp, so I thought it was a made-up story to keep the masses away from the better swim areas.

I didn't want to do it. I told myself. So then, why did you? I asked the image in the mirror. What kind of person are you to take advantage of someone who was seemingly innocent and already in a relationship?

A heavy breath of air slid from her mouth. Swallowing hard, a flash from her childhood crowded uninvited into her mental visuals.

A young Emily sat in a tall wooden chair wanting to disappear through the slats as she pressed her slender back against them. Her grandmother’s sallow face was just inches from her own, a saggy mask of bulging eyes and stretched out mouth full of yellowed teeth. Sour breath blew into the wide-eyed face as the old woman screeched out her warning.