"What the fuck is that?"

Tefe stared at The Golem. It appeared to be her father: Swamp Thing

"It is your father," said Aragon. He swept out a hand, slicing through the castle's tepid air. "He wishes to destroy you."

She turned around to face Aragon. "What kind of shit is this?" she asked. "Why would my father want to destroy me?"

"You are the Queen of the Red," Aragon told her. "It is the one domain that he doesn't - and can't - control."

The Golem took a thundering step forward. Rocks shambled down off its rough exterior. It let loose with a growl that trembled throughout the castle. And it kept coming forward. It was after one thing and one thing only: Tefe

Aragon stared at her. "Are you just going to stand there, girl? Or are you going to try and defend yourself?" His yellow bulbous eyes turned toward The Golem. "Your time is running out."

Tefe turned her back to the monstrosity. And she shook her head.

"No," she muttered. "That isn't my father."

"So be it," said Aragon. He turned his back to her. "I can't bear to watch this."

She was about to say something else when she suddenly felt the pressure bearing down on her. The Golem was directly behind her. She quickly turned around…

The Golem reached out with one hand. It gripped Tefe around the waist, squeezing, as it flushed her into the air. It stared directly into her eyes.

Tefe struggled against the force that was binding her. But it was no use. As The Golem continued to squeeze her mid-section, she let out with a painful cry. And then The Golem pressed down. Her innards snaked out between its rocky fingers. Blood and gore rained down. Her intestines poked between its fingers as it tore her into shreds.

The Golem let loose with another roar.

And then it threw Tefe's broken body to the ground.

"That's enough," Aragon told it. "Be still."

The Golem did as it was instructed.

On the castle's floor, Tefe was crying. She scuttled across the floor, tears flowing from her eyes. And then she began the process of restoring her body. Slowly - oh ever so slow - she operated on her wounds. When she was finished, her thirteen-year-old body was ravaged and weak. Scar tissue streaked across her mid-section like bolts of lightning. But none of it was enough to keep her down. Still crying, she regained her footing.

And she stared at Aragon.

"Why did you do that to me?" she asked.

"Because you need to be strong," he told her. He turned around, returning to his throne at the end of the long hall. "That Golem was only the first step in your training. It was endowed with the powers of your father. And you now see what he can do to you."

"No shit," she said. She rubbed her belly. It hurt: BAD.

"If you're ever to defeat your father," said Aragon, "you must be ready. As it stands, you'd never survive The Green."

"I thought I was the Queen of the Red," Tefe managed. "What happened to that?"

"You must practice," Aragon told her.

"Oh yeah?" said Tefe. "Well, watch this."

She gripped the Ruby of Life. Bloody light spit from it. And in its crimson glow, a unicorn climbed out. It nestled against Tefe, snorting.

Aragon was silent; though his jaw was hanging down.

"Let's go see what we can find," Tefe told the unicorn. And she cast a glance back over her shoulder towards Aragon.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

Tefe laughed. She guided the unicorn back into the cherry glow emanating from the Ruby. "Don't wait up for me!"

Big Daddy saw the bastards coming.

Bushwick Bill and Scarface were closing in on him. They had materialized out of the shadows like grim demons. Unfortunately, for them, the sodium lights had glinted off their nickel sidearm.

Big Daddy's mind was reeling. He knew that the shadows would play into his favor, too. He slowed his pace. He could hear the tap, tap of their shoes on the wet pavement as they gained on him.

Suddenly, without warning, Big Daddy dropped to his knees. Then he slithered forward like a black snake into the arms of the waiting darkness. "Where'd the bastard go?" asked Scarface. "I can't see him!"

"Look," said Bushwick. "He dived over into those shadows. Let's just blast him out!"

"Sounds like a good plan to me," agreed Scarface. He raised his .44 and fired a shot into the shadows. The bullets ricocheted off the pavement, sending sparks firing into the night.

"You don't know how to do it," said Bushwick. He gripped the trigger of his AK-47 and let loose with a barrage of firepower. The gun finally rattled silent as Bushwick emptied the clip.

"Did we get him?" asked Scarface.

"Must have," said Bushwick. "No motherfucker could survive that."

But Big Daddy had survived it.

He stepped from the shadows. He raised his arms wide, fist clenching his cane, as a bolt of lightning struck across the sky. The stink of burning ozone was heavy in the night.

"Come forth," he said. "Bring your pain unto those worthy."

Bushwick Bill and Scarface stared at one another.

"This motherfucker is crazy," said Bushwick.

"How'd he survive being shot?" asked Scarface.

Suddenly, their questions were answered. Behind them, in the lurking darkness, the shadows became alive. As Bushwick and Scarface turned around, they dropped their weapons onto the ground in frightful silence. The shadows were alive. They had eyes and mouths cut into the smoke of their carcass, and they howled in pain as they took Bushwick and Scarface by the collars.

Slowly, they dragged the two gangsters into the darkness of the shadows.

And then they were gone forever.

Big Daddy sighed. From inside his coat, he pulled out a fat cigar. He bit off the end, spitting it out. Then he lit it up. A halo of smoke gathered around his head.

He didn't want to have to hurt Bushwick and Scarface. But it was either him or them. And the rules of the jungle apply.

Yet he couldn't get the ghosts rattling around in his brain to stop. He knew that they would be coming for him. The ghosts of his past and present…

He'd never be able to escape them.

Before it was over, Big Daddy would be dead.

There were no two ways about it.

Andrea fingered herself into frenzy.

She lay back in the crumpled sheets on her bed. Before she brought herself to climax, she reached onto her nightstand and pulled the vibrator out of the top drawer. The loud BUZZ of it came alive in the darkness.

And then Andrea was finished…

She took her wet fingers into her mouth and licked herself clean of her musky scent.

Naked, Andrea crawled out of bed. Her feet padded across the plush carpet silently. She went to the window and stared out into the bible black night.

There were no stars. And the moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds. But it would be fat and full, again. All good things come to those who wait.

Andrea made her way out to the living room. She poured herself two fingers of Jim Beam. Then she let herself a cigarette. She relaxed back against the kitchen counter as she slowly sipped at her drink.

She could remember the swamp monster. It hadn't been afraid of her. Whatever it was had stopped her. It had come for her.

"Damn it all to hell," Andrea muttered.

She quickly finished her drink. She then pad across the room. Her eyes were riveted on one thing.

Hanging above the television set, a scimitar rested. Andrea walked over to it, fascinated.

She reached out and ran a finger across its razor sharp blade. Blood pooled on her finger. Quickly, she slurped it up. The blood tasted good.

Andrea removed the scimitar from the wall. She sliced the air with it. It felt good in her hands. She could feel its power. It was like an extension of her arms.

"This is sexy," she muttered.

But her mind was full of the swamp creature. Since she had eroded her present sexual fantasies, all she could think about was the monster.

What would it be like to make love to it?

Andrea lowered the scimitar.

Slowly, she began to rub her naked nipples.

Thoughts of downright fucking the swamp monster rattled through her fevered mind like a runaway train. She felt as if she could feel its foliage running over her body. And she could taste its flowers in her mouth. They were sweet and tantalizing.

And its cock… good Lord! What a root that must be!

Andrea sighed. She took the scimitar with her back to her bedroom. She laid it on the bed and then climbed in beside it. Her hand gripped the handle, tightly.

Then her fingers dipped down between her thighs.

The swamp creature erupted into her fantasies. And again she worked herself into a sweaty frenzy of lust and love.

Outside, the clouds filtered away from the moon. The sickle moon poured itself into Andrea's bedroom.

And, as she fingered herself, the man in the moon sat back, relaxed, and watched.

The Swamp Thing was crazy.

It was the only solution that made sense to Abby. But wasn't he always crazy? He was a plant elemental. He was a god unto the earth. And it had always eaten away at his vegetated brain.

She made her way through the swamp. She knew that he was close. Abby could feel his existence in her veins.

Overhead, the sun beat down through the naked trees. Their limbs were skeletal, reaching out to grab at her blouse as she passed them. She swatted a mosquito, wiping away its bloody mess as she did so.

Abby stopped as she came into a bog. The water didn't appear to be deep. She took a stick and tested its depth. She could wade across.

Stepping into the fetid green water, Abby made a few steps until she fell down up to her neck in the drink. She gasped for air as her head dipped below the water. Finally, reorganizing herself, she regained her composure and swam the length to the other side.

Immediately, she stripped off her blouse and bra. Leeches hung onto her milk-white skin. Quickly, she ripped the bloodsuckers from her flesh. One of them was hanging onto her right nipple, sucking greedily at her blood. She grabbed it and tossed it to the ground, stepping on it. The leech exploded in a bloody plume.

Abby slipped her clothes back on.

"That was an interesting sight," said Swamp Thing. "I would have preferred you to keep your clothes off."

Abby gasped. She hadn't seen him being so close.

The Swamp Thing had crucified himself between two large black oak trees. His arms wound around their bark in a verdant display of vines and twigs. So did his legs wrap around their stumps. Flowery grass shone brightly in the sweltering overhead sun.

A flower was hanging from the left cheek of the Swamp Thing's face. He saw Abby staring at it.

"Take it," said the Swamp Thing. "It's yours." He coughed. "It's from me to you."

Slowly, Abby approached him. Tentatively, she reached out and plucked the flower from his cheek. She bent to smell it, but the flower quickly rotted away into a dark weed.

"What's happened?"

"Life is death," said Swamp Thing. "You must leave me alone. I'm content with my death. I don't need anyone here to mourn my passing."

"Are you saying that you're going to just rot away?" asked Abby.

The Swamp Thing sighed. "I honestly don't know what I'm going to do. The one thing that I can tell you is that I'm tired. Oh, so very tired. Death only seems to be the one way out." He looked away from Abby and stared at a loon flying overhead. "I'm just tired."

"Everyone gets tired," Abby told him. She reached out and touched his shoulder. "You just need time to yourself. I understand. Seeing me only makes things worse."

She turned, forcing back her tears.

"But I love you so much. I don't want to be away from you."

"It's the only way," said Swamp Thing. "Just give me time. I need time to get the cobwebs from my brain." He sighed. "Go away from me."

Abby turned around. She punched her finger into his chest.

"It's always about you!" she cried. "It's always you that has the problems! You act as if nobody else has any troubles."

"I'm sorry. That's all I can say." He looked directly into Abby's eyes. "Now go. I don't want to see you, again. Leave me be. When, or if, there's another time for us, you will know. I promise you."

"I'm sure you will," said Abby. "I'll leave you alone, now."

Abby turned around. Instead of swimming back through the bog, she disappeared into the foliage around it.

Swamp Thing watched her go. And a lone tear coursed down his cheek.

"Goodbye," he muttered.

And somewhere in the distance a loon cried out…