Chelsea was the perfect wife. We had been seeing one another for nearly a month since our initial meeting in the laundry room and still she was keeping it a secret from her mother until she felt the time was right. I had mentioned to friends that I was dating someone but still made excuses to avoid introducing her to them. I was not sure how they would react. To me Chelsea was a female. Caleb was an alter ego that ceased to exist, even for Chelsea it was a person she no longer recognized. Her mother insisted on calling her Caleb and took her to a number of psychiatrists in an attempt to restore her son to her but all that was accomplished was a couple doctors getting heir cocks sucked in their office while her mother waited in the outer office. She was never deemed mentally unsound and was rather happy to have discovered this new side. I never pried about her sexual past. She had a few lovers, casual, nothing heavy, she preferred older men who would not judge her. She only told me. She paced the cabin like a lioness caged, wringing her narled, aged hands as she racked her brain for anything she might have overlooked that might be of some help. Yet nothing came to mind, and finally in total exhaustion she laid upon the bunk just to rest her tired feet and mind. Almost instantly she fell into a deep trance-like sleep and the vision started. Mist swirled eerily and inky black waters seemed to echo the sounds of pain and death. Straining to see thru the mists, yet she could not make out where or what was there. She could see herself as if from a distance on her bunk, her brow furrowed in concentration and hears her moans of pain as blinding pain ripped thru her head. The pain was so bad, yet she tried to distance herself from it and concentrate on the vision instead. The winds began to pick up and the mist swirled and there on the inky black water sat The Scarlet Flame, listing, no signs of life upon it. Maria strained harder and harder to see all that she could.
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