Vick Ran never disbelieved in what people considered supernatural. His childhood was a tapestry of creature legends from his old down-South neighbors, tales from Rig Veda and the Mahabharata, his Punjabi aunties whenever they visited from far-far away California. And Vick had complete belief in all of them.

The writer remembered such terror from Altamaha-ha: a Georgia sea serpent that traveled along the river's murky depths. He could still feel a fearful jolt thinking of loup-garou, Cajun werewolves. On their porch when he was a tiny boy, Miss Miller and Mister Williams had described how the chilling howls echoed through the bayou. Possibility of the unknown made Vick's world much more magical, adventurous. "Aasan de pandh lamme."

Growing up near shadowy Indianan forests fueled Vick's active imagination. And by adolescence, his desk was piled with short stories and creature novels. But a particular being forever remained Vick's favorite. And they were the apsaras of Hinduism.

Nymphs, heavenly dancers, and gorgeous muses of water and sky. One look could entrance, with just a dance captivate men and deity both. Where'd they really come from? And how do we find them?

Even as a child Vick dreamt of seeing one. At their household shrine (populated with flowers and incense, illustrations of Varuna, Ganesha), his puja was for an apsara to cross his path. Anna would tease her brother, though their mother affectionately observed his repeated prayers. For all the good it did Vick.

From the Ran family's hectic move along the coast, he grew less inclined to believe in many things. Over the years, Vick's faith dwindled until it was bordering nonexistence. But a kindling of hope persisted within his mind: one that no skeptic or lack of proof could assuage. And when he sees her, it spreads throughout Vick's veins like hellfire.

Mr. Heep has summoned him to his apartment for a form that Vick distinctly remembers signing. He steps over the threshold after the older man opens the door.

"I know I signed that form, Mr. Heep," Vick asserts. "I gave it to you on the stairs. Anna's all angry at me now…" He looks on as Mr. Heep walks toward his files and books atop high shelves without his usual resignation. Something is different about him, though what Vick cannot say for certain.

"By the way, this is my friend Story," Mr. Heep introduces briefly while motioning over to his small living room. Vick follows his hand and finds himself frozen.

A waifish beauty inclines her head to him. Her pale, pretty face is framed with auburn hair that shines even in dim light, and blue eyes stare with eerie silence. Story sits upon the dull couch as if waiting for someone's arrival. He wonders whose.

"Hi," Vick rushes, though time seems to slow when he nears the center of the room.

"It's around here somewhere, one second…" the quiet apartment manager mutters with a fleeting glance at Story, who says nothing but observes everything.

Vick nods agreeably, telling Mr. Heep to take his time. But his eyes never divert from those wintry ones. Story tilts her head and wavy strands tumble gently upon her chest. Vick clears his throat softly and breaks contact. It's a chilly room, evident by the goosebumps on her bare legs.

Yet his temperature involuntarily rises as he continues standing. The woman's presence invokes such a strange sensation. It was as if Vick's skin was suddenly subject to thousands of invisible pins…Mr. Heep's words seem so distant that Vick looks at him, in a state of hazy confusion.

"…here it is. You were right," the manager apologizes and steps aside to give a clear path to the door.

"Great," he says softly. But Vick's feet are iron-weighted as he turns to go. Breathing never seemed so difficult prior to this.

"Are you all right? You seem a little…" is his reassuring question, followed by an ambiguous afterthought. It grants Vick a sense of calm despite the growing oddity.

"I'm feeling a little funny, it's nothing…" he abruptly trails off, blinking his eyes.

"Is it…a pins-and-needles kind of feeling?"

Vick's eyes widen at Mr. Heep's uncanny accuracy. He couldn't lie, for whatever reason it was no option for him.

He slowly faces him. Mr. Heep is giving Vick an uncharacteristically intent look. Story's large gaze threatens to pull his from the older man's concerned expression. Vick can feel it from where he stands, trembling ever so slightly.

He answers in a scratchy murmur. Shaking fingers are hidden deep within his denim pockets. "Yeah, kind of," the words eventually come to Vick from someplace. "Yeah."

Mr. Heep steps closer, putting a gentle hand on Vick's shoulder.

"You should go lie down," his apartment manager suggests politely. What is happening right now?

Silently acknowledging his advice, Vick spins to see the mysterious Story again.

"It was nice meeting you." He means nothing coy or charming by it. But then her lips move, and she makes Vick feel like a schoolboy in less than ten words.

"I'm so very happy we saw…each other."

There's a queenly otherwordliness to her voice. It speaks of a secret, one Vick wishes to hear.

And the spell is broken. He leaves not a second after this. A single word leaves and reappears throughout Vick's long walk to the apartments.

Apsara.

End.

Indian Words

Aasan de pandh lamme = Punjabi proverb, 'Hope goes a long way'

apsara = celestial nymph mentioned in the Rig Veda, Mahabharata; sent to enlighten and entrap men

Ganesha = god of beginning, intellect and wisdom

puja = prayer

Varuna = Hindu god of waters/the underwater world