The red candle’s flame reflected off of Brian’s mud-brown eyes. It was the only source of light in the entire room. Brian’s overgrown hair, hanging in his face and curling at the back of his neck, was a similar shade. Brian blinked and released a low whimper. Men weren’t allowed to whimper… So, that made Brian a twenty-five year old boy.

The room was small and was filled with oaken furniture: an oaken desk in front of him; a black leather couch with a dark-finished oaken frame to his right; an entertainment system of the same material behind him. Brian appreciated their strength. Not many things were as solid as oak was. Not even him. But he needed to be. In any case, he didn’t look like the 6’2" man that had asked Sarina to marry him less than a month ago. He looked more like a hunchback.

In the middle of the room was Sarina, a lofty woman with red-dyed hair and black-framed glasses. Her eyes shone like gold. She didn’t exactly look like heaven, either. Yet there Sarina stood, with her hands on her hips, looking down at Brian.

"Bri… You have to calm down. Losing your head isn’t going to get us anywhere."

"Shut up…" he muttered.

"Listen…" she said, "I’m sorry, but it’s true. I know it’s been a long week, but we have to stay cool."

It sure as hell had been a long week. Seven days ago, practically to the hour, Brian’s four-year-old daughter, Shannon, had disappeared. Brian and Sarina had been out on a date, then a lovely, newly engaged couple. They had left Shannon with a babysitter named Lynn, a borderline frightening sixteen-year-old Goth queen. She had, of course, been clad in black garb and fake jewelry, both of which could be found at any mall. Even her hair had been that raven-shade. But nothing had ever gone wrong while Lynn was babysitting before.

But this time had been different. This time, the angelic curly-blonde haired/sky blue eyed Shannon had vanished like a sigh.

"We have to do something…" Brian said, "the cops haven’t done jack shit."

"But Bri…" she said with head down and hands reaching out to massage his shoulders, "you could make the situation worse for her. You could put Shannon in danger."

"WHAT SITUATION?" Brian broke into a screech and pounded his fist against the wall. "The cops haven’t found SHIT! Much less, my daughter."

"Well, what do you want to do?" Sarina talked smoothly… soothingly… "How can I help you? Because you know I’m not going to let you go off the deep end without me, right?"

"Ok…" he said, "ok."

* * *

All that Shannon knew was that she hated it when her hair stuck to her face. She also hated being duct-taped to that cherrywood chair. She hated having a sweaty rag stuffed into her mouth ¾ also duct-taped in place ¾ that continuously gagged her. Shannon tried to blink her own golden hair out of those sky blue eyes. She did so unsuccessfully. Her eyes eventually got used to the darkness.

The unpolished floor was made of oak (solid), as were the walls. Both were so dusty that they were no longer brown at all, but a form of grey that somehow resembled brown. A single unlit lightbulb hung solemnly in the middle of the room… a mere six inches away from her head. The door on the far side of the room was also oak (solid).

Shannon noticed a red smear that trailed from the door to her chair. She thought remotely of the oversized American flag that stood (noble) at the front of her house and how the streak looked like one of those red stripes that went across it. Red was always Shannon’s favorite color. The image of the flag brought forth images of her home and father… and Sarina. Shannon sobbed those unregulated whimpers that you would expect to hear in the grocery store or in church. But nobody was there to pick her up this time.

* * *

Ethan Gable had a plan. He was the kind of man who knew his shit; thought his shit through. His pale blue eyes would attest to that. Nobody could outsmart him. That’s why he had taken the girl. He wanted no ransom. He wanted no attention. Much like Cyndi Lauper, he just wanted to have fun.

That’s why he decided to leave the little chickadee, as he called her, alone for a while. He wanted to see how the dad and the stupid house-whore were doing. He had been viewing their progress for days now. Ethan thought that they were coming along nicely. This thought made him laugh.

He stuffed his hands into his jeans’ pockets and went on his way. He walked a familiar route.

It was a beautiful day. Perfect. 70 degrees. Not a cloud in sight. In fact, the sky was the same color as the chickadee’s eyes were. This realization made Gable chuckle to himself. So damn clever.

He meandered down Broadway Boulevard, past the movie Cineplex and the dirty panhandler that always sat in front of it. The homeless man was dressed in brown rags and mangled facial hair. Ethan passed a porn shop that, with neon lights and flashing signs, informed him that, in the store, the "hottest XXX action" existed. The goddamn Holy Grail of jack-off videos, he thought. He laughed to himself again. Life was funny.

Gable passed a young couple making out on a bench that stood in his path. They were a fat, ugly couple that had no business doing anything that could possibly lead to pro creation. That thought made Ethan feel like laughing and yakking at the same time. Luckily, he was a jolly fella, so laughter would win out. He was jolly because he had the plan. He had the mind. The apotheosis of each. That realization made him burst into laughter yet again.

He passed the blue-brick police station and crossed Atlantic Avenue. He didn’t bother to look both ways. Gable knew that the plan would protect him.

Then, Ethan looked up and saw the funniest thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Chickadee’s father and his slut. A sickle of a grin crossed his face. They looked like shit. The dad’s hair was greasy; his clothes dirty. Ethan could practically see the stench rise off of him. The bitch didn’t look any better. Her hair was knotted and mangled. The bags under her eyes made the golden irises invisible. They were hidden in the pouches’ shadows. Both the idiot and his slut were looking at the ground. Gable just stood there… waiting for them to cross his path.

The idiot father stopped. Did he sense something? (Maybe) Did it matter? (Hell no) Gable continued to stand and stare. The smile stayed on his face. When the father grabbed his slut’s arm and muttered something into her ear, Gable knew that life was about to get a hell of a lot more enjoyable. He chuckled without separating his teeth. The sickle remained and, when Brian looked into his eyes, Ethan did nothing but enjoy the moment. Gable kept on staring and smiling at the two. He doubled over with laughter and a cloud of comprehension came over the father. Brian charged him like a bull; Gable continued holding his stomach and cackling. So… Goddamn… Funny…