The artisan appeared small in the middle of the giant mosaic, face almost touching his work, moving an inch an hour across the courtyard. The princess watched him from her balcony as he crouched down, laying out the tiny tiles in an abstract pattern. He was like a hunched animal grazing on a field of green and blue squares.

Once she threw down one of her diamond earrings just to see what would happen. He continued placing tiles even as the second earring pelted off the rags on his back.

Why are you watching him? one of the ladies-in-waiting asked from the doorway.

He’s meticulous, she said.

He’s an animal, the lady said. Come have tea.

I won’t.

Suit yourself. The lady was gone. The princess took a gold coin from her purse and threw it down so it landed right in front of the artisan. By the third one the artisan stopped laying out tiles and picked the coin up with his dirty fingers. It glinted in the sunlight. He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder, up at the princess. She stared down. They stared at each other, frozen for minutes. Eventually the princess rose and withdrew back into her chambers.

This scene repeated itself every day for weeks. As time passed the mosaic turned from an abstract color study into a giant portrait of the princesses’ staring face. But when he got to her neck the tiles turned blood red with her elegant fingers clutching her throat. There were drips of blood laid out in tile staining her tile dress. That’s horrid, the queen said. I won’t have it. We’ll have him executed.

No, we won’t, the princess said. But the queen was gone, and the artisan was overpowered by all the king’s men and dragged to the dungeon. The princess left her room for the first time in weeks and went down to the courtyard to see the unfinished morbid masterpiece up close. Some unused tiles were scattered along with the artisan’s tools. She picked up the trowel and ran her fingers over the blade. Then, with a sudden motion, she drew it quickly across her throat. The ladies all came running as blood sprayed from her neck. Their gowns soaked in crimson as they lifted her from her knees and dragged her bleeding to the king’s physician, who tried to stanch the blood.

For days the princess lay in recovery, neck wrapped in bandages. The king had the courtyard paved over with cobblestones. At night the princess walked to her balcony and stared down at the empty courtyard, her face pale and gaunt. One night she stole down the stairs and continued all the way to the south tower where a long hallway led to the dungeon. She moved quietly down the hall, her bare feet on the cold stone, blood-stained bandages trailing behind her. When she reached the door she stopped and pressed her face against it, listening. Someone’s breath rasped on the other side of the thick oak. Suddenly there was a scream from inside that sounded demonic and the princess started, almost falling. But she went and fetched the keys from the jailer’s hook and twisted them in the lock all the same.

When she opened the door she could just make out a figure in the darkness, crouched and staring up at her. They locked eyes and the princess remained motionless as the figure rose to his feet. She could see it was the artisan but he was scarred and bearded now with a strange fire in his eyes. He stood before her in his dirty rags, his hair wild.

You and I will rule this kingdom, she said in thin voice. Come with me. She turned and he limped after her, down the hallway and up the stairs to the royal chambers, stopping only to get his sharpened trowel along the way.

 

 

My brother-in-law’s parents were driving us back to their house and my wife Cheri was trying to fill in the empty spaces with conversation. What was most awkward was talking around my brother-in-law’s disappearance, and my wife’s sister’s strange behavior. We’ve been doing a lot of gardening lately, my wife was saying.

We sure have, I said.

We’re growing cabbage, Brussels sprouts, carrots, marigolds…

Squash.

Yes, squash. Tons of squash. It’s kind of taken over.

If you want any squash… I offered.

Oh, no, the dad said.

Are you sure? I asked. Because–.

Oh, no, we don’t eat squash, the dad told us.

What Monty means is he’s got a health condition that prevents him from eating… What are those types of vegetables called? Come on, Monty, it’s on the tip of my tongue!

Gourds? I offered.

I don’t like them. I don’t eat that, he said.

Well, that’s okay, you don’t have to, I said. We actually have many other vegetables that you’ll love. We have…

I don’t eat vegetables from someone’s garden, Monty said.

He doesn’t eat vegetables, the mom said. You never have, right Monty? Since you were a boy?

When I was a boy I ate them. I did a lot of things then. That sure doesn’t mean I do that now. That quieted down the car for a while. We were all lost in thought. I cracked the window.

Have you always lived out here in East Texas? my wife asked. But the silence continued. Finally the mom said, Monty, she asked you a question. When he didn’t answer she shook his shoulder. Then we started hearing these odd whimpering noises. I didn’t know where they were coming from, mainly because I couldn’t picture them coming from him. Then he drove onto the shoulder and we bumped along for a while before he came to a rough stop on the side of the highway. He’s taken this real hard, the mom said.

William is not missing, he said. I would have liked to see my face when he said that. At this point I was imagining grabbing my wife’s arm and us taking off across the cornfield.

He’s not missing. We took him back, Monty said.

You did? I asked.

Texas did.

Texas did?

Get out of my car.

Okay, I said, looking to my wife. But she stayed seated.

You mean he’s not missing? You know where he is? she asked.

I don’t. I have no idea where my son is. But Texas knows. Texas doesn’t let go of her children. She keeps ‘em. He locked his fingers together.

I opened my door. Okay.

A state, even a state like Texas does not take people or keep people, my wife told him.

Come on Cher, he asked us to leave, I said.

What? And be stranded out here in the cornfield? she asked. No, put the car in gear, Monty. You’re going to drive us back to civilization. NOW! Go ahead! Start the car!

Start the car, honey, the mom said.

I re-shut my door and it became more quiet. Then I heard the engine start up and we were rolling again.

He dropped us in front of an old drugstore in town. Then they all hugged each other but I hung back. Alright, let’s find a phone with service, I said when their car was gone. The clerk at the store looked just like our missing brother-in-law. You know, you look like someone we know, I said. My wife gave me a cold stare.

I get that a lot, he said. I’m a familiar face. He laughed.

Then I was with my wife out front sitting on the curb drinking sodas like I used to do as a boy in front of our store in Jersey. This tastes good, I said of the sugary soda. It actually tastes good for a change.

She had a cigarette going but she put it out. I don’t want to talk anymore, she said. Okay, I said. No talking.

We didn’t say anything as morning traffic picked up right in front of us. But a big smile widened on my face. It widened and widened until I finally felt good again.

 

 

But I thought I could have three of them, Sally said, shifting and tilting her head slightly. Three. She held up three fingers. There was a quiet as the mist rose up over the graveyard.

No, I never said that. Frankie looked at her and then back to his sandcastle made of dirt. No, it’s always been two. Sally raised her shovel over his sand castle. Don’t do that, he said.

I will, she said. She felt her mouth stretch into a grin. You never helped me, Frankie! Never! She toppled dirt spires and flattened dirt parapets. Frankie stood and watched her, getting sprayed with dirt as she swung the heavy shovel wildly. Then he took hold of it but she was ready for him and they wrestled, both gripping the shovel tight. They pushed and pulled until she slipped and Frankie was over her, forcing the handle toward her neck. You always make me overdo things, he said.

The wood of the shovel was just touching her throat when at the last second she gave him a vicious kick to the leg and twisted the shovel out of his grasp. She yanked the shovel free and gave his head a sound whack with the blade. He slipped and fell right down into the open grave. As he lay there she shoveled and shoveled furiously until he was covered.

As the sky took on light she was still shoveling, finally patting down the mound when the 8:15 could be heard blowing its whistle on its way into the city.

Sally was on the next train, her dirty hands deep in the pockets of her coat. When the porter asked for a ticket she said, No, ma-am, I have no ticket. But I have lots and lots of money. How much you want? And she grinned her grin, holding out a handful of Frankie’s take. The porter glanced over his shoulder before taking the whole handful.

Can I have your ticket please? he asked the next passenger, further down the car. Tickets please!