Story: The Woman Who Bled

My submission to GiantJuly19 

the latest SizeRiot contest.

The Woman Who Bled

copyright 2019 Taedis

“Is that it?”

“What would you prefer I do, my dear?” The old man tossed his cards on the pile.

“I just accused you of being a con-artist. A little sweat'd be nice.”

“Horses sweat. Men perspire. Ladies feel the heat.”

“And what do you do, Nickels?”

“None of the above.”

“Is that why you've been mum about your Christian name?” Barbara added her cards. “Cause it's

fake too?”

“Everything about me is real; nothing is Christian. Is it your deal or mine?”

“Did you hear me call you con-artist?”

“Three times.”

“And I'm supposed to play gin with a cheat?”

“Why not? I am.”

“What?”

“Do you prefer con-artist? You do throw the term about so.”

“I am not …”

“I do believe you're feeling the heat, my dear.”

“No… I'm sweating.” Barbara gathered up the cards. “And it's my deal.”

“I thought so.”

“What was my tell?” Barbara shuffled. It was her deck, her deal, she couldn't lose.

“I'll trade yours for mine.”

“Looks like I just wasted half of a very expensive cruise barking up the wrong tree.”

“There are other trees in the sea.”

“And more than one logger fishing my waters.”

“Mrs. Henderson is ripe.”

“You can't call dibs.”

“We can play for her.”

“That sounds obscene.” Barbara loved it. “What's the game?”

“High card wins a Henderson fishing license. Loser has to target whatever mark the winner picks.

Agreed?”

“Cut.” Barbara answered by putting the deck between them on the green felt table.

“I don't see the point.” Nickels lit a thin cigar. “Pick your card.”

Professional pride kept Barbara from going for an Ace, but Nickels was too cocky to cut anything

less than royalty.

“Jack of Diamonds.”

“These smaller, 52 card decks are quaint.” Nickels smiled, folded his hands under his chin. “They

lack my card. The King of Spades will have to do. Flip the rest of the deck over. It's the bottom card.”

“It's not.”

“Oh?”

“I shuffled this deck.”

“I noticed.”

“The bottom card's six of diamonds.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“You haven't even touched the cards.”

“Cut the bull … sweat, my dear and flip the deck.”

#

“Do you believe in monsters, Barbara?”

It was the summer of 1958. Dawn. She was 23 and heartbroken leaning on the railing on the west

facing side of a Mediterranean cruise ship being asked stupid questions by an old cheater.

“I'm talking to one aren't I?”

“Don't sulk, my dear. It's unbecoming.”

“I want to know how you did that.”

“I can't teach you how to win. It's a just a habit I got into a very long time ago.”

“Why are we here?”

“To honor our bet. To give you what you need.”

“What do I need?”

“There's a very old saying that hasn't been uttered yet.” Nickels talked like he'd get dizzy walking a

straight line. “'When you're bleeding look for a man with scars.' If you don't mind me saying you're

bleeding.”

“Men making period jokes aren't funny.”

“I'm a far subtler vulgarian.” Nickels lit his thin cigar. “I know about Ralph.”

“Are you a cop?” She looked at the dark Aegean, not his face.

“No.”

“I don't believe you.”

Nickels shrugged.

“What's your pitch?”

“I'm offering you a man with scars.”

“As a mark?”

“There are other uses for men.”

“Not in my experience.”

“That's the kind of bleeding I'm talking about.”

“Is it you?”

“No.”

“I don't see anybody else here.”

“I am nothing, but scars, my dear. But I'm also more than you deserve.”

“I don't know why I dragged myself out of bed this early.” She watched him puff out of the corner

of my eye.

“Curiosity.”

“Didn't pay the cat's life insurance.” She said. “Tell me about this mark.”

“I have a grandson. After a fashion.”

“And this grandson has scars?”

“That mirror your own wounds.”

“You're going to an awful lot of trouble pimping me out to your grandkid.”

“I'm only setting up a meeting. What you do after that is none of my concern.”

“A date?”

“If it makes you feel any better calling it that …”

Barbara didn't have to see Nickels to know he'd shrugged.

“But tell me.” He went on. “Do you believe in monsters?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Good.”

And he pushed her overboard.

#

Barbara woke drenched and panting inside a sea cave. Her left shoe was gone. Her right was filled

with almost as much water as her lungs. She coughed up enough to fill a swimming pool before she felt the panic kick in.

It was dark as sin.

The floor she was laying on was soft. Warm. More like a cushion filled with live steak than stone.

Barbara didn't know where the lighter came from, but it was in her hand. It shouldn't have sparked,

but the third time really was the charm.

Everything was red and covered in something wet that wasn't sea water. Air flowed up from a hole

on the opposite end of the cave. A single stalactite eroded smooth by the tides dangled over it pointing downward. Was it the way out or just a long and painful drop? How'd she wash up in here?

Barbara's hand brushed rock. There were dozens of them lined up in double stacked rows all

around her. Each bigger than both her fists.

The lighter died.

Barbara couldn't relight it.

Then she realized what the stones were.

Teeth.

#

Barbara gulped fresh air like a beached fish drinks after it's returned to water. The fact she'd been

spit out by a sea monster onto a hot beach barely registered over her desperate need for oxygen.

A shadow fell over the prone woman. One not cast by tree, or building, or anything else she'd

encountered in her 23 years. She knew it was the monster; she'd look at it when she'd caught her breath.

It'd wait. Her lungs wouldn't.

“Your lack of faith to the instruction

almost led to your destruction.”

The voice was rich and deep and came from the source of the shadow.

“I don't …”

Barbara was ready to face the Midgard serpent or the Lost Nest monster. She wasn't prepared for

the monster to be a man.

“I apologize for the abduction,

but before you make a production

while you take the air

remember you were to grab my hair

and ride my head above the waves

to my far off enclave.

By the time I saw you right

in the failing morning light

you were drowning in the sea

so I brought you into me.”

His hair was fire. His skin bronze. They were none of that. They were more. He was the most

beautiful thing Barbara had ever seen. He was the most man she'd ever looked upon. Each finger on his expressive hands was larger than her. He could cup her in his palm and barely notice. He cast a shadow longer than her 23 years.

He was an angel without wings. Or shirt.

“What's your name?” She asked.

“Abel.

Like the fable.”

“You swallowed me, Abel.”

“Not very long or very well.

You're no oyster inside a shell.

It doesn't take a Machiavelli

To see you're not inside my belly.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“A curse.

Or worse.”

“I wasn't told anything about this. No giants. No hair. No curses.” Barbara rose to her feet dusting

the sand from her damp dress. “I was talking to an old man about his bloody grandson and he just

shoved me overboard when I wasn't looking. Next thing I knew I was sitting on your tongue.”

“This planned bother

was executed by my grandfather.

He didn't give you clue or cause

To wonder what his grandson was?”

“No.”

“Demon

semen!”

“Did you just swear?”

Abel nodded. His head was bigger than the house Barbara grew up in.

“Abel. We're gonna get on like a house a fire.”

#

Abel brought Barbara fresh caught bass for their first date.

He claimed to have prepared a feast for her waiting in his distant home. They'd have made it there

if he hadn't had to rush to get her to land. Barbara knew a con even when it was wrapped in poetry. But he was pretty and he made her forget the things that hurt her. Things she wished Nickels hadn't

mentioned.

Barbara tended the fire and cleaned the fish as Abel brought them to her. One was more than enough for her; twenty would make a light meal for him. Barbara didn't mind. Her knife was sharp and it gave her idle hands something to do as her eyes admired his giant body coming and going from the

perfect waters.

“You don't look like Nickels.”

Barbara sat around the fire, eating. Abel sat around her. She watched the sunset over the horizon of

his crossed legs.

“In Genesis 6:4 you'll find the answer.

Of how he first romanced her.”

“Your grandmother?”

“Please forgive the lax notations.

We tend to skip most generations.

Nickels feels the weight

of several dozen greats.”

“This is one hell of a con you've got going.” Barbara leaned back until her head and neck were

resting on the wall. She smiled when she remembered the wall was Abel's thigh. “I don't know Genesis from Adam, but I know enough to know there's no man in the Bible who lived as long as that.”

“Take your Bible off the shelf

and look up Isaiah 14:12.”

“That's good. Chapter and verse. You really need that sort of detail to rope in the rubes. Not sure

why you're giving me the spiel. You can't fleece someone who was born shorn.”

“You're a strange and most rare diamond

who wraps her head 'round giants.

There's no use denying

Most women find me terrifying.”

“You? You're a giant softy.” Barbara leaned further back into him. “I've met cops who scare me

worse than you.”

“Less intimidating than a gumshoe?

I don't know how to thank you.”

“What do we have to do to get you talking normal? Not that I don't like poetry. It just twists my

ears hearing it all the time.”

“If I want the curse reversed

I'll have to take another lover first.”

“Oh.”

-----

Their first date ended well. Abel let her talk; Barbara let him listen. They ate. Laughed. Shared their heat as the fire died and the sun left for warmer climes. She kissed his cheek goodnight before he

lay down on the beach. She was supposed to sleep in the clearing.

The moon was werewolf full that night without a cloud eclipsing a ray of its reflected brilliance.

Barbara saw the range of Abel's body rising up from the sand still taller than her even laying down. His legs and chest exposed. Only a loincloth to spoil her perfect view.

Barbara used the cloth to climb his sleeping form. Walked on her knees until they dug into his

warm belly. Bent her head low and planted a kiss on bare skin two feet beneath his navel.

“Thank you.”

Abel didn't hear the words, but felt her tears drown on him.

She was on his belly when they woke the next morning. And the evening and the morning were the

first date. And they called it good.

-----

Nickels saw Barbara bobbing in the waves three months later from another ship in a different

ocean. He had the boatswain pull her aboard. They gave her hot tea and dry blankets. She wouldn't

answer them. Not in English. Or French. Greek or German. Finally they left her alone on the deck with the old man who spotted her.

“You took your time.” He said.

Barbara smiled.

“Did you take care of my grandson's … problem?”

“I find him captivating.

Suffice to say that we are dating.”

And she jumped back into the sea.