A Guardian Angel-in-training. A soul-eating djinn. A werewolf ex-convict torn between love and vengeance. More than a heart hangs in the balance.
Season 1 of Into the Wild Dark
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Wrongfully-convicted Jack Slobodnik wants his life back. Four years...
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Ch. 2: Sunny's Day Job
August 2 | Day
I repositioned, preparing for the next series of Taekwondo moves, but I was distracted by my neighbor's long-legged stride. The lines of his body, cut with gym determination, drew the gaze from his torso-hugging t-shirt to his jeans-clad hips.
Intriguing character, I thought. Unlike everyone else I had met since moving Down South, Jack wasn't friendly, which I sort of liked. The brooding act was a refreshing break from the saccharinely polite script.
Noon sunlight traced his profile, and his faded buzzcut gleamed brown or dirty blond against his dusky wheat complexion. When his expressive sable eyes braved a backwards glance, I noticed his chiseled nose and how his square jaw was covered in a dark stubble that hid a scar above his defined lips.
I saluted, but he averted his gaze. Was he shy? Cute. Given the scar and tattoos, I tried to guess what he was into, but that train of thought was derailed by a child's voice.
"Are you a ninja?" the little one asked.
There was an urchin hiding behind the three-quarter fence of my backyard. A whole ragtag squad of children had stealthily gathered to watch me. I assumed they had come from the surrounding apartments. An awkward smile tugged my lips. I had never really been around kids. My lifestyle hadn't afforded me the opportunity.
Tilting my head, I crouched to their level. "If I were a ninja, do you think I could tell you?"
I rose into the imperious Hakdari Seogi, or Crane position, and several of my onlookers gasped and tried to mimic me. All skinny, wobbly legs, arms, and giggles, a nine- or ten-year-old boy hopped forward with a plastic sword. When he grinned, he showed off missing teeth.
"Can you teach me how to do that?" he begged.
"Me first!" A girl in a rainbow tutu pushed past him. I chuckled at her assertiveness.
"Sisters can't be ninjas," the boy whined.
His pint-sized sibling stuck out her tongue. "Mom says I can be whatever I want to be."
"Tell you what," I interjected before an argument began. "I'll show you kiddos some moves, but only if you promise to keep in mind that the sky's the limit to what you can be, including girl ninjas. Do your parents know where you are? What are your names? Whoa, whoa, whoa! One at a time." I laughed, overwhelmed, as a chorus of names rang out.
With my meditation session a bust, I donned the AngelGuard t-shirt hanging by my patio door and took off for impromptu lessons in the apartment complex park. I figured the children's parents or guardians could easily find them there. Sure enough, minutes into lining up my new "class," adults gathered to see what was going on. Jack appeared at the fringes. I wanted to reconnect with him, but the exuberant children required my attention.
