So true. I used eat meat like nobody’s business; now I’m vegan. I used to believe working hard for the money was the key to success; now I volunteer rewarded by friendship and gratitude. I used to think Vogue was the ultimate in beauty; now I barely wear makeup. I used to dream of having a house just like in Town & Country; now I’m a minimalist. Evolve and let your true beauty shine!

Christian sat in the woods waiting for his rescuers to come. He didn’t know how he had wandered away so far and now he was lost. He knew his mother would find him. She always found him. He knew that. He had stormed out of the house in confused anger and now he was in the middle of the woods freezing to death all because he had allowed his anger to get the best of him.

Darkness was falling over the forest as night slowly crept in. Christian’s stomach rumbled and his legs ached from walking so far. He longed to be able to sit and rest wrapped beneath a warm blanket but that would involve going home. He didn’t think he was quite ready for that yet. There were so many more things he still needed to sort out.

He was also tired of being angry but he doesn’t know how else to deal with it. His dad walked out on them. He left; just like that. With no word to either of them that he was leaving. He had blamed his mother for being mean to him all the time. They were always fighting. He knew deep down it wasn’t her fault. He had no one else to blame; it was easier to take it out on her since she was the one who stayed.

His mother now had to work two jobs to make up for the lost income his dad used to bring in. Somehow she still always made time for him knowing how hard this was on him. This will be the first Christmas they ever had without his dad. It would just be his mom and him his Christmas. This wasn’t right. Christmas was supposed to be about the family being together. Now everything is broken. His family is broken. They’ll probably get divorced now if she can find him. This made him sad. He sat down on the flat rock that his mom lovingly called the sofa because that’s what it looked like. He sat and wept. He wept so miserably that his 10-year old body racked back and forth in spasms. He laid down on the cold sofa in a fetal position still crying. The chill instantly turning his tears icy as they streaked down his cheeks. The cold air took its toll on the little boy lying down on the cold flat rock. Christian was soon fast asleep ignorant of the frost bite that was about to take his life if his mother didn’t find him soon.

A loud beat woke Christian from his slumber. It sounded like a marching band was approaching. He rubbed his eyes because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A band of nutcrackers were marching directly towards him playing Deck the Halls. They seemed unaware of his presence. They surrounded the sofa and separated into two groups. One group continued playing their musical instruments. The second group climbed over each other’s shoulders forming a giant ladder. They began decorating a nearby pine tree that he hadn’t noticed before. They strung multicolored lights on the gigantic tree. Then they hung miniature versions of themselves all over the tree. The first set of nutcrackers had changed to varying Christmas Carols while the others decorated. They worked mechanically as if someone had programmed them to do these things.

Once this task was finished, the decorating nutcrackers got down off their makeshift ladder and came over in front of the sofa. They then produced wood from inside their coats and started building a fire. One of the nutcrackers produced a table from inside his coat while another produced the most delicious smelling Christmas feast he had ever seen. They continued to set the table for two. They laid out a seitan roast with stuffing, cranberry sauce, candied sweet potatoes and mashed potatoes with gravy. This was his favorite dinner. Maybe he had died and gone to heaven.

A man quietly approached the table and sat down next to Christian. When Christian recognized him, he leapt from the sofa into the man’s arms. “Dad!” he cried out.

“Hello son” his dad replied. “I was allowed to visit you this one time. I think it was your Christmas Wish, was it not?” His dad smiled but it was a tired, sad smile. His hair was longer than it usually was and he was unshaven with dark circles under his eyes. His clothes were rumpled, like he’s been sleeping in them. He didn’t smell right either; not his usual cologne.

“Why did you leave us?” Christian asked, choking back his tears and smothering the anger that was brewing within him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you and your mom. I couldn’t face either of you from the shame I would’ve brought if you knew what I had done.”

“What did you do?”

“I gave up. I gave up on myself and I gave up on you and your mom. I took my own life.”

“Dad, what do you mean you took your life? Are you dead?”

“Yeah. Your mom and I have not been getting along because of my depression. You know that I’m chemically depressed. I stopped taking the medication because it became too expensive to buy. Then that day when I took my life I was fired yet again from my job. This was the fifth job this year. That’s why I left you. I couldn’t face you and your mom and say that I failed again. I let you down. I’m so sorry. They let me come back to say goodbye to you and to give you this.”

He brought out a package the size of a shoebox from inside his coat. Christian took the box and opened it. It was a beautiful blue and gold nutcracker. It was holding a baton in one hand and a miniature version of itself on the other.

“This is a special nutcracker. It’s not like the ones I make for you every Christmas. Take good care of it and it will bring you the Christmas you’ve always wanted.” With that he disappeared.

Christian blinked his eyes open to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him again. When he opened them, he saw that he was in a hospital. His mother was standing over his bed, her eyes red from crying.

“You’re awake. I’ve been so worried.” She said, choking the words out between sobs.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to worry you. And I’m sorry for all the bad things I said to you.” Guilt taking over his confusion.

His mother put her finger to his lips and said. “Shhh. There’s no need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re OK. The doctors said you should be good to go home as soon as you wake up. I made your favorite dinner for Christmas.”

Christian and his mom had a quiet Christmas dinner at home together. He didn’t know how to ask her about his dream while he was lost in the wood so he just didn’t say anything. His mother thought he was still angry and scared and didn’t make him talk about it. Her meager Christmas presents awaited him in the morning and maybe they’ll start talking then. Right now they were both very tired…she from worry and he from his ordeal.

The following morning, Christian awoke first wearing his new flannel pajamas his mother laid out for him. She made a tradition to sew a brand new pair of Christmas pajamas for each of them to wear on Christmas morning. Out of habit he jumped out of bed and ran to the tree to see what Santa had brought him. There are several packages all wrapped in the same paper with his name on it that said they were from Santa. There was one present the size of a shoebox wrapped in a blue and gold shiny paper. He knew this was the real one from Santa. He rushed to open it knowing what was already inside. It was his father’s nutcracker.

Once he opened the box, the nutcracker’s baton started waving and the miniature nutcracker began to grow and took on the likeness of his dad’s younger image. His dad looked like Christian only a little older, like an older brother. He wore his blue and gold plaid flannel shirt which opened to show a dark blue turtle neck. His blond hair was cut short just like the way he liked to wear it. His hazel eyes smiled at Christian then he opened his arms for a Christmas embrace. Christian rushed to his father’s arms only to find that it is just an image after all, a hologram. But it was a happy image of his father’s younger self, not the tired, haggard version he spoke to in the woods.

Christmas music began playing from outside the house and the nutcracker marching band he saw in his dream approached his front door. He smiled and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the love his parents had for him although they showed them in their own very different ways. He knelt before the Christmas tree and thanked Santa for his special blessings while the nutcrackers played their Christmas carols and decked the halls of his house.

As I was browsing through my email, I came across a petition to stop the abuse of a beige and white tabby cat named Double Trouble, who was being experimented on at the University of Wisconsin. Not only did I sign the petition, I meditated on it. I found a researcher who worked on Double Trouble. Her name was Amy Hoff and she’s about to have a nightmare.

Amy’s dream started in the Sound Localization Laboratory at the university. I let Amy go about her normal duty, taking a cat from her cage, giving her anesthesia then subject her to invasive surgeries on her ears, skull, and brain. Once Amy was comfortable with the dream, I switched her with the cat. Amy was now Double Trouble and she was the one being experimented on.

Amy, the cat, woke up because the anesthesia wore off and she heard a very loud drill cutting into her skull. She screamed for them to stop but they didn’t. She was getting a very big headache and thought her head would explode. They couldn’t hear her scream through all the sound the drill was making. The experimenters then bolted screws and a square-ish electrical device into her head and skull. This made her lose the ability to move her head. She felt a burning sensation go down her ear canals as they applied some liquid to her inner ears which ended up in her throat. Then they implanted more electrical devices deep inside both of her ears during this surgery. Now she thought her ears would explode. But something about the liquid made her feel funny. She was starting to lose her ability to hear anything, which made her whole head feel like she was in a very tight tunnel with the bolted screws scraping the top of the tunnel. Her headache was getting worse as the screws and the electrical contraption were getting very heavy. Her whole head sagged from its weight. Her ears were scalding and now her mouth was getting very dry like she was swallowing sand and suffocating from it. She has never felt this much torture in her young life.

An hour later, the drilling finally stopped after what seemed likes days. She desperately wanted water as her thirst became urgent. She couldn’t move from being so weak from that torturous surgery. They left her on the operating table and went to work on another cat. She felt blood trickle from her head where she now had screws coming out of them. She hoped death would come soon. Someone picked her up from the skin behind her neck not knowing how much more pain that caused. No one gave her a drink or food. They just put her back in her cage. She curled herself up, hoping the pain would go away but it didn’t.

Amy’s dream continued and she knew it was a different day. Her head was matted as her blood dried up. Her mouth was dry as a desert and she couldn’t hear a thing. She tried to meow but it felt like her mouth was shut tight, although it wasn’t. Someone came and held her by the skin on her neck again. Normally she would’ve enjoyed being held like this but with the contraption on her head and injuries she’s sustained from the surgeries, this rough-handling really burned and made her headache a thousand times worse. The experimenter put her on a table and hooked up some electrodes on the contraption on her head. This emitted such a piercing sound that she wanted to jump out of her own skin. It felt like needles were being inserted into her ears but they were only sounds. The pain these sounds emitted was nothing like she has ever known. The experimenter kept turning it on and off, on and off, over and over again. She wanted Amy to turn her head this way and that but with the pain not subsiding, Amy was getting very dizzy. She vomited but since she has not had anything to eat in 2 days, there was hardly anything to vomit except her own stomach bile. After what seemed like hours of torture, she was once again put back in her cage.

After a few hours, another experimenter came to get her from her cage. Just as the pain from the first experiment was beginning to subside, there was the piercing sound again. The experiments started all over again. This went on for another hour. Then back to her cage, only to be taken out again after another hour. This went on all day until all the experimenters’ day was done. She was put back in her cage for the night.

She sat in her cage waiting for the pain to subside, which either she was getting used to it or it was actually going away. No one came to pet her like the old lady used to do. Amy remembers purring while her old owner would sit her on her lap as the TV softly played in the background. What happened to her old owner? Oh, yeah! She died. Amy was put in the shelter and was sold to this laboratory of horror. She wanted her old human back. Why did the lady who caressed her so gently have to die? What has Amy done so wrong that she was being brutally abused like this? If only cats could shed tears, Amy would’ve done so. She has never felt so much despair and alone. Now she understands how Prometheus feels having his liver pecked by an eagle for eternity in Hades.

Prometheus? Hades? How does Amy know such things? Amy realized this was only a dream and she woke up. She woke to a very moist bed. Sweat poured from the sides of her head and body. In her sleep, she had taken her pillow and wrapped it tightly around her head, which is the source of her incessant headache and near suffocation so she threw the pillow off. She sat up and started to cry. First tears fell slowly, then the sobs came and became uncontrollable which turned to fits of hysteria.

Like watching a movie but I knew I was still dreaming, I smiled. Amy will now stand up and be the voice for the voiceless. She has learned compassion and empathy. My job here is done. Next her coworkers.

(Author’s Note: Although the persons in this story are fictional, Double Trouble is not. She was one of many victims of the University of Wisconsin Laboratory testing cats for sound localization. Once they were done performing surgeries on Double Trouble, she became depressed and anxious. They deemed the experiment a failure and killed her only to decapitate her body and study effects of the torture they have done to her. Source: http://www.peta.org/features/uw-madison-cruelty)

The Milk Bar

I’m a mirror, a reflection of images silenced and blinded by society. ~ Tabitha Cassidy

Mike and Bill were driving along Route 46 when they finally spotted it, The Milk Bar.  From the sound of the place, someone who didn’t know better, one would think it was a healthy juice bar.  The décor outside would suggest that.  The bar itself was very pink with white awning made to look like ruffled lace.  As the brothers, both in their early 20s, parked the car, they both looked at each other and winked.

“I’m getting horny just thinking about this.” said Mike.

“Me too.” answered Bill.  “Here we go then.”

They opened the buff barn-like door and was greeted by a lovely buxom young woman who wore a barmaid’s costume with a white peasant top, which has elastic around the arms and bust under a black and pink bodice embellished with floral satin ribbon and a very short ruffled green skirt with a pink and black taffeta petticoat underneath. Her breasts looked like they were dying to get out of its bodice that synched her narrow waist.

“Welcome to the Milk Bar. I’m Mae-Lynn.” She smiled warmly. “Table for 2?”

The guys nodded and were almost drooling just looking at her.  She showed them to a booth and gave them menus but they waved them away.

“We know what we want. Are you going to be serving us?” asked Mike, trying to keep from salivating outwardly.

“Yes, I’ll be your server for today. What can I get you?” she smiled again and it made her look angelic.  Mae-Lynn was only 17 years old but she looked like she was over 30.  She had white-blond hair but she chose to add black streaks here and there. Her almond eyes had long eyelashes bearing the most expressive innocence. She smelled earthy with a hint of sweet cream and lavender.

“We both want some milk, please.”

She smiled again and sat on the table between the brothers. “Since there’s only two of you, you can each have a breast.”

She sat on the table between the two men. She pulled down her blouse spilling ample creamy white breasts and pink nipples.  The guys each cupped a breast with both hands as her breasts were heavy with milk and began suckling.  Her milk flowed like warm melon juice that would remind you of a summer afternoon sipping mint julep while sitting on a wooden swing for two with your sweetheart.

At first Bill was just suckling like a babe at his mother’s breast but then remembered this wasn’t his mother.  He started licking her nipple and cajoling them to stiffen up. Mae-Lynn kept glancing down at him longingly.  He pulled away and smiled at her.

“Fuck me.” She said.

“You want to fuck?”

“Yes. They gave me something to make me really horny today”, she said matter-of-factly, like this was a common occurrence.

“Is it extra to get a fuck?”

“Normally we do charge extra but it’ll be free for you today.  You see I have to get pregnant and have a baby so that I can keep making milk for people like you.”

“Where’s your baby now?”

“I don’t know.  I think he was given up for adoption.”

“You don’t know what happened to your baby?”

“No, the master takes care of all that for us. Our job is to keep the customers happy and provide you with milk.”

“How many babies have you had?”

“Oh, this is only my second one. Frieda over there has had six babies.” She pointed to a brunette dressed similarly like her, serving a group of rowdy fraternity, who kept fondling her bottom while suckling her breasts.

“Do they pay you enough to do that to your body? Then take your baby away without your consent?”

“Pay? You mean like with money? No, they don’t give us any money. The master provides us with food and shelter and all the medicines we need if we get sick.  The master takes very good care of us.  We don’t need any money.”

Both men sat back and stared at her. Milked dripped from both nipples. She took a kerchief tucked in her bodice and began wiping her nipples but didn’t tuck them back in her blouse.

“Mostly who are the fathers of your babies?”

“Why, you guys are, of course!” Sounding righteous as if any other possibility was an impossibility.

“Do the fathers know of any of this?”

“No, it’s not their concern. They only come here for the milk and to fondle our boobs and maybe fuck us sometimes.”

“This doesn’t offend you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t find this wrong for the master to use your body like this and not even pay you?”

“This is the only life we know. We all grew up here at the bar; most of us were even born here. We live upstairs and come down when the bar is open for business. I’ve never thought to get offended by it.”

“What about an education? Did you ever go to school?”

“Oh, yes! The master brings us a teacher and he teaches us how to sit and behave while the customers drink our milk.”

“No, I mean how to read and write and do math.”

“I don’t know anything about those things.  The master takes care of all of that. We don’t have to do any of that.”

The brothers looked at each other with incredulous looks. As if through mental telepathy they thought how does a beautiful woman like this even exist in this day and age?  They’re nothing but slaves to this master.  They rose up and looked around to see if they can see the “master” but I pulled the guys back from their dream and let them sleep peacefully again.  I work with both of them at the local dairy farm and I’m sure they’ll both talk about the dream in the morning.

My name is Tabitha Cassidy.  I have a superpower.  I can manipulate people’s dreams and have them see another perspective instead of just theirs.

 At this moment in my life, I’m working at a dairy farm that I’ve been secretly filming to show people how cruel and unjust the milk industry is. Mike and Bill are the owner’s sons and they’ve always known dairy from their industry’s perspective.

They have never seen what it’s like from the cow’s point of view. I just showed them in their dream.

I woke up with the sun rising over the barn and the roosters crowing sitting atop the bay hales. I quickly dressed and put on my mucking boots to say hello to my girls. Upon entering the barn, I was greeted by Betsy; she’s always up before anyone else. She’s the oldest of the dairy cows so she doesn’t have much longer to be here. Soon they’ll be escorting poor Betsy to the truck heading for the slaughterhouse. Her body is so used up that she’s not fit for human consumption. She’ll become dog food for human’s spoiled mutts. Tears well in my eyes just thinking about it. I shake off the sadness for Betsy is not aware of what’s going to happen to her. While she’s still here, it’s my goal to give her as much love and care as I possibly can.  I grab the brush and start brushing the old girl down. She loves the attention and the feel of the bristles on her skin. She nuzzles my neck with her black nose to thank me and to return my affection. I laughed.

“You know how much I love you Betsy-Girl? A lot!”

“You talking to them cows again, Tab?” Mike sneaked up behind me and made me jump a little.

“I thought I was the only one up.”

“I had a strange dream and I couldn’t sleep after that so I thought I’d start the day early.”

“Oh? What was it about?”

“I dreamt…oh, never mind! You wouldn’t understand.” With that, he walked away towards the feed lot.

I watched him look around as he walked and he actually petted some of the cows. It was just yesterday that he took the crowbar and yanked their horns off then branded their butts with a searing hot iron. Although they screamed and some cried real tears, Mike didn’t flinch at their sorrow and just kept doing what he was told to do. I filmed it all without anyone knowing.

Bill joined him at the feed lot. Yesterday he helped Anabelle give birth to her calf then promptly took the baby away because it was a male. The baby was set for the slaughterhouse to become veal. Anabelle, exhausted from her labor with the umbilical cord still attached to her and embryonic fluid still gushing from her, bellowed and tried her best to run after Bill, who already drove away with her baby. She wasn’t even given the chance to lick her baby clean as cows instinctively do after birth. A field hand poked her with a steel bar whose tip has been sawed off turning it into a metal spear forcing her back into the barn. Anabelle bled from the poke but complied to avoid being poked again not to mention she was still weak and wet from childbirth. She would once again be turned into a milking machine. This was her fourth stolen baby. Her sorrow was beyond measure but Bill nor the field hand hadn’t a care.

I watched them talking quietly then looking around at all the cows. Both had quizzical looks on their faces, which turned to what looked like remorse. It seems they’re beginning to grow a heart after all.