"Sara, what's wrong?" Father, I helped someone. I set his bed up for the night outside, and he was going to return home tomorrow," she sobs. "Edwin's been killed by the monster!" Edwin?" he responds, dumbfounded. "In the outbuilding? Did he touch you, Sara? I told you to stay at home and not to open the door!"Slowly Sara nods and her father slams out of the house in a fury, returning moments later with remnants of clothes."Oh, my god! Edwin," she gasps."I will get this man-eater, and once I do, I'll be finding a suitable match for you next!" he seethes.The snow arrives the next day, much earlier than expected, and immediately Sara's father sets about to repair the damage wreaked upon his home and then obsessively he plans his capture of the beast plaguing the forest, ignoring her, and disappearing for days at a time. Apart from a few rare sightings from other hunters, it appears elusive, although the remains of large game animals were regularly found scattered through several areas.. A change in the way she’d walk… a more pronounced “waddle” to offset her swelling belly. The way she’d bend to pick things up from the floor. The way her familiar clothes became tighter by the day. You have to understand: either the look of a pregnant woman does something for you or it doesn’t. For me: it does. Profoundly. And it was the same middle of June when Dana Point was experiencing a true Southern California heat wave, we’d gone for nine straight days where the daytime temperature was over 105 degrees. Nearly record-setting. Still, I left the comforts of my air-conditioned office every day, promptly at 3pm, to streak straight home. Straight home to my writing work, right? No, at this point, I couldn’t even fool myself. I was going home, hoping for a visit from Cathy. Hoping for an innocent glimpse of her swelling motherhood: a glimpse that would, once again, etched in my mind’s eye, provide fuel for my soiling my bedsheets before I drifted off to sleep. Now there’s a.
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