The soft echo of the chant seemed to follow but it was only in my mind. The bright lights of the senior center seemed to beckon and I moved a little f...ster. The bus was still there and waiting for the last few people heading to Atlantic City. I found an empty seat in back and set the shoulder bag up in the overhead.I sat against the window and leaned back and closed my eyes. I woke several times, each time from dreams of texts and tomes and scrolls. Either that or strange and sometimes. ’ He slowly stalked towards her. ‘I have rites!’ she yelled stomping her foot, ‘you can’t keep me here it’s illegal you fucking psycho!’ ‘You lost all rites the minute you stepped into that fucking abortion clinic.’ He spat and she gasped, already filled with shame over the huge mistake she almost made. ‘Whose peter?’ he asked coming closer towards her, his eyes shooting silver sparks of lightening, brilliant enough to make her flinch. ‘Who?’ ‘Don’t play fucking dumb with me Jezebel, who’s. The house needed to be empty but for myself. My mother at work, my sister at school, and me alone at home when I did not need to be at university. Then I needed to be ready for the knock on the door. Not too many of these during the day! And then I needed to be "on the ready". Clothes that could be ripped off quickly when the knock came. Never did I wear shoes and socks. What then when I opened the door? Obviously certain "targets" were out of the question - near neighbours, who might blab to. Her name was Claire, thirty five years old, with medium length blonde hair, blue eyes and five feet three inches tall. She was solidly built, without being fat, doing a lot of horse riding when younger and thirty four ‘D cup boobs, most people view her as being very sexy. This particular recollection happened about seven years ago when she was living in a small town in the north of England. At that point in time she’d been married for nearly ten years to her, then husband Paul. She had a good.