Page 1 of Now You See Me
ChapterOne
ROAN
Crisp autumn air greets me as I exit Lucky Beans just before nine o’clock. The night sky hangs over Screaming Woods like a dark blanket. Clouds block any starlight, and the sliver of a moon offers the barest hint of luminescence.
Twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have noticed the state of the sky. I was focused on a future that included big-city bright lights, not the endless sky above Screaming Woods, the only place I’ll ever be able to call home. Monsters didn’t exist back then. Not in this town, anyway. Now, monstersarethe town. And I’m one of them.
People say I got lucky. Those of us who drank the punch at our town’s annual Halloween celebration that fateful night all morphed into different things. Wolf man, ogre, naga, orc, gargoyle, zombie, hell boy, minotaur, dragon, electric man… the list goes on. I didn’t grow a tail, scales, fur, or fangs. I didn’t develop superhuman powers. I disappeared.
One minute, I was an eighteen-year-old with a football scholarship and a cute girlfriend tucked under my arm. Then that arm, along with the rest of me, vanished from view. All hell broke loose when the transformations happened. Nobody goes to a Halloween party thinking they’ll leave as a real-life monster. For those of us who sampled Dr. Karloff’s homebrew, that’s exactly what happened.
Most of the normal human residents fled town. Some immediately following the event, some later, when it became clear the crazy old scientist in the woods couldn’t figure out how to undo the damage he’d caused. Those of us who changed that night had no choice but to stay. The world beyond our town’s boundaries isn’t ready for what we’ve become. And those of us who are monsters aren’t interested in being lab rats.
I don’t know where life would’ve taken me if I hadn’t become invisible. Maybe I would’ve ended up taking over my family’s coffee shop, regardless. But I would’ve made use of that football scholarship and gone to college first. I would’ve had options.
I’m damn sure I wouldn’t have ended up a solitary man with only my hand for company at the end of the day. Twenty years after drinking Dr. Karloff’s concoction, that’s exactly how it is, though.
That’s how it has to be. Touching, kissing, fucking… I can’t do any of those things. The crazy scientist doesn’t know why soft, porous objects turn invisible when I touch them. Doesn’t have the slightest damn clue about any of the changes he caused. Says he thought he created a “good mood” elixir that’d be the hit of the party. Not by a longshot, doc.
One thing I do know—I won’t risk infecting another person with this condition. I’m not that much of a monster.
My house is a short walk from my business, and I’m about halfway when a couple steps out of one of the downtown pubs. They can’t see me, so I step off the sidewalk as we cross paths.
They’re both bird people—fully bird from the waist up, human legs on the bottom—and they’re talking in a unique combination of chirping and words. One looks like a yellow finch, the other looks like a hawk. I have no idea if they kept their human anatomy below the belt. Those kinds of details don’t make the gossip rounds in the coffee shop. We’re a pretty tightknit community now that most of the residents are monsters.
Regardless of their bird-to-human body ratio, the hawk and finch people are alike. Able to understand what the other one is going through. Sharing the same existence. I’m happy they have each other in this fucked-up reality we’re all living. That doesn’t stop envy from twisting in my gut when the hawk extends one wing around the back of the finch.
I miss physical contact. Sex—fuck yes, I miss that. I’d only had an introduction before becoming a monster. But innocent contact, too. Holding hands. Hugging. Simple touches. It is what it is. And it’s not going to change since I’m the only person in town who pulled a vanishing act on monster-making night.
My phone chimes in my pocket as I turn onto my street. I know without looking that it’s Elise, yet my pulse picks up when I see her name on the lock screen. We message daily. For hours, every night after I close the coffee shop, and our conversations are the highlight of every day.
I’ve spent a lot of time in chat rooms over the years, and always logged out feeling lonelier than when I logged on. I knocked back a bit too much of the Jameson after one of those logouts, and posted a wide-ranging “In Search Of” ad I’m not proud of.
ISO single, non-superficial woman with intelligence and a sense of humor. Bonus points for a dirty mind, if only for the sake of fun conversation. Cybersex optional, but not required. Online, visually anonymous communication only. No in-person meet ups, no video chats, no exchange of pictures. My appearance is off-limits, and in return, yours is completely unimportant to me. Terms are non-negotiable.
—Unlucky Giant Leprechaun
I didn’t include any sort of bio. Just my grumpy list of demands and a stupid sign off. Asshole much? The next day’s sober me cringed at the sight of it. By then, the ad had several hundred views. Unsurprisingly, my inbox wasn’t overflowing with offers to get acquainted. But there was one response.
Dear Unlucky Giant Leprechaun,
I meet your criteria and I accept your terms. Let’s arrange a time to chat. Maybe we’ll both be luckier for it.
—Pot of Tarnished Gold
If she’d signed it Elise, I probably would’ve deleted the message without another thought. It was “Pot of Tarnished Gold” that got me. I knew right then we were going to hit it off. And we did.
Six months later, we’re still hitting it off. Sometimes we discuss big stuff. Others, we talk for hours about nothing. There’s flirting and affection, and on a few occasions, it’s gotten explicit enough that I’ve had to tap my messages with one hand. Our relationship is a mix of comfortable friendship, intellectual connection, and chemistry. Hard to believe all of that’s possible with strictly online communication, but it is.
It’s even better now that we’ve switched to regular texting instead of meeting in a chat room. The rules are still in place, but we’re in touch constantly. Little messages throughout the day. Normal relationship stuff—aside from the never-seeing-each-other part. That’s always going to suck. But this is as real as it gets for me.
I open her text as soon as I’m in my house. Between the darkness and my invisibility, nobody can see the grin on my face, but I like privacy just the same. No one in my day-to-day life knows about Elise and I plan to keep it that way. People have accepted that the invisible man is a loner. I don’t need anyone encouraging me to try having more.
ELISE: Hi! Let me know when you’re home. I have something personal to talk to you about, and I don’t want to distract you while you’re at work.
Any message from Elise gets my blood pumping. This one diverts it straight to my cock.
ME: Just walked in. You have my full attention.
