The Jersey Devil . . . a Romance

By Lynn Silton

Deep in the pines and bays of South Jersey, Yane Ratio and his cat, B-Money, are aliens from the planet Nod who landed their rocket tea set and decided to stay. It was 1702 when they arrived, just as a rumor about a monster called the Jersey Devil was horrifying the area of Leeds Point, New Jersey. B-Money decided Yane could take on the role of the Jersey Devil, fending off questions about who they were. For two hundred years, they made a living by fishing and scaring the natives unsung. It took the meeting of Jersey and the most beautiful witch in New Jersey, maybe the world, to bring life and heart to this stranger beyond his wildest dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984534521

Lynn Silton

Lynn Silton is a retired Human Resources Manager. She has a masters in business administration. An avid reader, Lynn enjoys fantasy and science fiction. She completed many writing courses at Stanford and UCLA continuing education programs to prepare for a second career writing Fantasy-Fiction. She was a member of the California Taskforce to Promote personal and Social Responsibility. She lives in Palo Alto with her husband of 43 years. They have four grown sons.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Two hundred odd years ago, a man and a cat, two traitors from the planet Nod, in the Callow Galaxy, left their home, screaming obscenities. That long-ago morning, the man, Yane Ratio, had yelled, Goodbye and Good Luck, you Konk-Head Floozy Nod Jonks! Anybody who thinks there is a micro-milligram of decency left on No-Nothing Nod has been smoking too much Wink-Rope!

It was a rude goodbye. Yane had his reasons.

Try to calm down! his faithful cat B-Money pleaded.

Don’t worry! I’m fine! Yane huffed as they sped across their back lawn toward freedom. They had prepared for this. They regretted they would never be able go back to their beautiful mansion and the fabulous life they led on Nod, but they saw no other choice but to run.

It’s over! ‘Yane’ cried. I’ll never see Pagda again.

What? Pagda? That was her name? Pagda the police sergeant you met when she tried to arrest you for wearing an out-of-style hat? You’re such an idiot!

Was it Pippa, then? Yane hadn’t thought about Pagda or Pippa for ages. He had to worry about something or lose what was left of his mind. Worrying was the essence of his nature. What if Dad and Uncle Doc are still on Nod! he screamed.

Great God! They’ve been gone for years, you sentimental snot! We’ve exhausted that possibility! Run!

"Have a little sympathy, B! Yes, I promised Nod my marvelous Space-Cruising Ship, The Tizzy, destined to improve the lives of all ordinary Nods. The whole wide-open galaxy would have been at their service, and for just a small down payment! But did my daft comrades appreciate my invention? No! We Nods consider ourselves too exquisitely snobbish, and beautifully creamy, and impossibly innocent to appreciate anything! Was it my fault it never went into production? Was it the fault of Dad or Uncle Doc? What if they’re caught and punished for my crimes?"

You never commit crimes. You’re a do-gooder, Yane! Dada and Uncle Doc left years ago. You should have answered their postcards.

After they left me with no goodbye hug?

Cut the sob story and run faster for Skaggs sake!

Come on, B, ‘Nice kitty’, be a friend!

They both heard the thundering of police vans careening around the side of their mansion and down their big elegantly manicured back lawn.

Sooke-Heads! B yelled. B personally manicured and pedicured those lawns! He lovingly made the beds of the peonies and runcible violets every morning. He fluffed their pillows. Every flute of his unique catnip champagne had a violet in it.

Stop! the cops called through their bullhorns, or we’ll shoot you right off those skagge legs of yours, Yane Ratio!

On this day, Yane and B-Money had never heard of Planet Earth or the Milky Way Galaxy or the Jersey Devil. The two were just two other poor devils trying to escape their planet with their lives, a few modollars and their unusual space machine.

Don’t touch that rocket! a police-guy bellowed. Then he stopped. You built a dimwit flying tea set?

It’s traditional. It’s a flying saucer isn’t it? Yane cried.

Fiddlesticks! the policewoman cried, Just fiddlesticks!

The searchlights they trained on The Tizzy were blinding. Yane saw his chance. He jumped onto the tea tray and hid against its curved edge. The police started cautiously toward him. The biggest police guy was closing in. Suddenly, B-Money sped forward holding his rifle like a bicycle handle. The rifle knocked the officer forward onto the lawn. B ran over him and up onto the tray. He grabbed Yane’s pant leg as he ran using his sharp little claws and yanked Yane off the rim past the creamer and onto the tea box-bridge. Yane tried to get up. He fell backwards onto his faithful cat. SHEEEECH, Ratio! B yelled.

B-Money’s gun fired. Everybody practically jumped out of their skins.

Push the skagging starter, Dooff! B-Money shouted.

Shocked by the sound of the rifle and of B-Money’s sand-paper sounding order, Yane closed the bubble that popped over the tea set. He pulled the tea bag’s violet paper square. The tea paper said, ‘Violet tea for you and me’. There was no violet tea, or was it violent tea? No matter. The attached teabag string-pull brought the tea set to life. As the tea set crashed up through the sky, they heard the pinging of police firearms against the bottom of the tray. They rose skyward like a tealeaf caught in a breeze. "Ha! They think my Tizzy can be brought down by their bazooka junk? Hooray for us!"

Shut up, you almost got us killed, Ratio. Just shut up till I can calm down.

Well your stupid gun came in handy. Yane said. He was shaking. I’ll admit that. Yane meant it in the nicest way.

B-Money went to the other side of the box -bridge and sat with his face toward the wall. Calling a cat’s beloved bazooka, ’stupid’ is bad form, he mumbled.

It was a compliment. A confused Yane took the controls.

Their planet disappeared. The brilliance of the stars stunned Yane. He increased Tizzie’s power until they were moving at the speed of the old Galaxy herself, curving widely as she does as she dances around their universe. Tizzy was turning like a Disney teacup. The stars dimmed. They flew though blackness too black to describe. Yane panicked. B says Yane Ratio was born a great genius and a dangerously terminal nervous wreck. It was in the DNA. Yane couldn’t stop worrying. Yane’s dad and Uncle Doc knew it was almost impossible to reason with DNA without a PhD, a lab, a virus and a thin, sharp sword. They shook his hand when he was ten and left him to his fate. They also advised that he find cheerful friends. B cursed Yane’s dad and Uncle Doc every day. No one had met Yane’s mother, but B cursed her anyway.

It seems cheerful out here, B-money suggested.

To you, B. To me it’s hell with a capital H!

B-Money sat quietly on a tea cup saucer ledge looking out through the protective bubble. He wished he had caught a fish to rip apart with his teeth. He was tempted to hiss and jump like a normal cat at the curious sights, but he restrained himself, afraid to set Yane off. It was never good to set Yane off. He looked at Yane and just shook his head. Somebody had to stay calm. He got up and walked to the bridge.

I’ll take the controls, Yane. Take a break.

Yane wandered away from the controls sat on the Tea Box Bridge sofa and watched space appearing and disappearing. It’s sad we’ll never see our gorgeous mansion again. We’re just drifters, now. Yane blinked wistfully as they barreled along. But it was funny hearing those confused cops trying to shoot us down with common bazookas.

It was, said B-Money. I guess that sums Nod up for us.

Not for me, B., I predict trouble.

Your mind always veers in the direction of trouble, Ratio.

Do planets have asylum laws, B? Would two outcasts from Nod be welcomed by the authorities? Are there authorities? Would we be given all the proper papers for permanent residency? Are there such papers? What are standard immigration policies around the Galaxy. I’m flabbergasted we made such a stupid mistake.

You flabbergast way too easily, Yane. You take the helm. Get your mind off immigration. Think of nice stuff; starbursts and fish sandwiches for creak’s sake.

How do you know I’m worrying about immigration?

You were speaking out loud, Ratio.

Stop calling me Ratio. It’s insulting; like we hardly know each other. Yane got up and took the controls. B napped. Yane kept worrying. Can creatures sprung from dusky violet stars and dimming galaxies thrive in brighter places? he mumbled. What’s more, will they allow the import of Nod’s cheap cheese and the orphan-raisons when my supply runs out? Yane was put in a Nod orphan-hut when is dad and Uncle Doc left. He hated everything except the orphan raisins which were sweet. Uncle Doc had a no-sugar policy.

B, what do you know about Galaxy import-export laws?

What? B-Money opened one eye. What happened to immigration?

B-Money, how can you sleep?

I’m a cat Yane, a cat; a carnivorous, surly cat born of a Norwegian Forest pole cat, a Viking girl with the voice of a fish-wife. You’re lucky I didn’t scream you to death long ago, just to relive you of senseless worry. Look! Over there!

What, what!

There’s a small blue planet with a beautiful golden sun. I’d like a little color. Give me the wheel, I’m going down.

Why?

I’m hungry for fresh grub!

They landed their tea set next to a winding creek.

Look! Fishes! And they’re stupid! said B-Money. He flew into the creek, clawed one up and ate it. Ahhhh," he sighed.

Yane jumped off the tea set. He checked his universal planet-time determiner. It was the Planet Earth, June 24th, the planet year 1702. Yane panicked. He hated being in strange, unfamiliar territory. He grabbed B-Money and flew up into a wild cherry tree. Yane had fabricated ferocious wings that imitate the Giant Black Nod-Bat’s to scare monsters they would meet. He often used nature as a model when he wasn’t using household objects. The choice of a tea set style rocket was a mystery, even to Yane. B- Money looked down. Yane look; those are Earthlings.

Put on your Violet translator patch, B, Listen!

I hate that thing. It sticks to my fur! Invent something else. Yane stuck one quickly and gently inside B’s ear.

Hey! Be careful! I can’t get it off without pulling out valuable ear-hair you lunatic! Now I’ll have to listen to every stupid, boring thing said on this planet for as long as I live.

Let me set it to ‘interesting only’, then.

If you do, I won’t be able to hear you, Yane. I think I’ll go scare some earthlings. Loan me the cape and your holiday head horns.

Look! said an old clammer who lived in a hut near the creek. I just saw something big fly up in that tree."

The mosquitos around here are as big as dragons, old man.

That ain’t no mosquito.

I reckon it’s that strange baby-child old lady Leeds just threw out the door last week. They say it’s full grown and a devil already, and just born.

She’d never do that. he said, she’s a fine Mum.

Maybe it was Mrs. Skaggs, then, old love, or somebody else. It’s still a full-grown nasty Jersey Devil! That’s the truth.

That’s what it’s being called? Well, I ain’t movin, the old man pronounced. There ain’t no devil scares me, Mrs. Osborn, me love, and the clammin’s too good here.

I’m takin my gun everywhere, then. I’ll shoot anything that moves, including you, though I love yee. She giggled.

You go right ahead. Just mind who brings you dinner, Butterfly. Recall those luscious fried clams I make for ya.

B-Money listened with great interest. He had an idea. Maybe you can be this Jersey Devil, Yane. It would explain why we’re here and who we are. You could stop worrying about immigration laws and help me worry about food and shelter. We could terrify locals and steal food, Mr. scary Jersey Devil! At last, a break!

Chapter 2

You mean it, B? That’s perfect. Now we have a chance here.

B smiled. Jersey for short, said B.

"Very funny, B. Okay, I’ll be this Jersey Devil! It does solve all our immigration problems. You made a good choice. We can use Tizzy’s tea box as home base and cover Tiz with pine tree branches and a picnic tent while we build us a house and a garage for Tiz. I read about camping-out on my z-phone while I was worrying. Wait! What if there’s a real Jersey Devil, B?"

I scared some creatures with your Nod bat cape, Ratio, and the head horns. Look! They look red in this light, way too brash for Nod, even for here. They scare these earthlings like thunder.

Yane looked down. He almost fainted. It’s garish! He grinned. It’s perfect! I think you already scared some little kids who were fishing. They ran away shouting ‘Jersey Devil’, ‘Jersey Devil’. Wait. maybe I’ll try to make the Jersey Devil a force for good.

You’re crazy, Yane. Nod was crazy to try to keep you, genius or not. You’re weird as hell. I can’t figure out why I even like you, Yane. A devil is not a force for ‘good’, Yane. Evil is the whole idea here, Yane. You’re scary and evil.

It’s ‘Jersey’, B! Try to keep up with the times!

What times? We just got here. We only changed your name a few minutes back. You’re daft, Yane.

Time is not well understood, even on Nod which is an advanced society, you stuck-up little cat! Jersey didn’t mean to criticize B-Money, but he had feelings and they were hurt. I’m the Jersey Devil, not you, B.

The years passed. B and Jersey had kept a low profile. Jersey and B built their compound in an unincorporated area. Nobody said a thing. The people of South Jersey did not look for trouble. They stayed clear of Jersey who romped around acting evil. His infamy grew.

Jersey listened in on conversations mostly around the old Mullica River as it ambled through the back yard of South Jersey. Jersey made little show-appearances in full Nod devil suit, head horns and all. Jersey Devil rumors kept flowing among the residents around the Mullica River and beyond. He was feared and respected. Nobody dared go near his compound. Being ‘Jersey’ was very good for Yane’s low self-esteem. After a while, the old Yane of the planet Nod noticed that as the Jersey Devil, he didn’t even worry as much.

Ex-Yane, the ‘Jersey Devil’ did his tenth bio-rejuvenation in 1959. The routine was his personal biological invention born of deep unrelenting panic attacks about aging and dying in a strange land, New Jersey, on a strange planet; Earth. His bio-technology invention, although designed for humanoids and cats from the planet Nod, lightyears away, if tweaked, had the potential to revolutionize Earth life spans and plastic surgery. B-Money dreamed of the fortune they could make. Jersey demurred. He knew he couldn’t handle publicity, not to mention the sight of earthly blood and the sanitorium he would need to manage. Then there were the inevitable lawsuits. B begged. Jersey dawdled. By 1959, it was too late. Jersey knew his latest bio-redo would be his last. His bones had announced their intention to splinter into a million pieces if he tried even one more rejuvenating change. The rejuvenation atoms broke his left pinky finger to show they meant business. They watched gangster movies over the years. They threatened worse.

It’s good we kept the whole thing to ourselves, B.

Shut up Jersey, you don’t know anything.

I know the rejuvy-atoms are mean. I only want to look twenty-five, anyway, and go on with the other twenty-five-year-olds on Earth in 1959. Jersey dreamed of being well-loved and happily married with children before he died. B-Money had many kittens but never became attached to them or their mothers. Earth cats don’t talk. It was hard. But all these kittens proved creatures from the Planet Nod in Earth’s Milky Way galaxy, could reproduce. B was facing his own limit of cat rejuvenation.

B, this is the last rejuvenation for both of us.

B-Money sobbed for three days and then went looking for catnip and a hot date. Why waste precious time? Their run on Earth had been fabulous.

Jersey and B-Money had settled into their attractive manse and big garage. It was in a pleasant, rural, part of South Jersey called Leeds Point. The Old Yane, gone and forgotten, added a new trick to his identity in the 1940’s. When he wasn’t being the Jersey Devil, he was the handsome Jersey Ratio, a successful professional fisherman. With B-Money’s help they had a real fishing business. They sold their seafood to restaurants as far away as Wildwood; even New York. They gave up stealing and became prosperous. Jersey bought his clothes from the Brooks Brothers catalogues he found in his mailbox. After a while, a fish restaurant called the ‘The Oyster Creek Inn’ opened right up the road from their house. It became their best customer. Jersey and B hung out on the Inn’s crowded porch and drank beer. Nobody took notice of a cat drinking beer or if they did, nothing was said. Girls took notice of the tall, quiet, handsome young man with the cat. Jersey didn’t make a heart-connection with anybody for a long time. Jersey was still Yane-shy.

The heart connection finally caught in June of 1959. That June morning, Jersey couldn’t find a single article of interest in the Sunday Atlantic City Press. He couldn’t stop fiddling with his collar. He stood up and stretched his legs.

I’m going over to the Inn for brunch, B, he called.

Get a raw flounder to go, for me, B called back.

Catch one, yourself, Jersey said as the porch door slammed. He smiled. Being a devil felt good.

Jersey walked into the Oyster Creek Inn bar. He ordered a beer and asked old Al to get him a table in the dining room.

I’ll see what I can do, Jersey. We’re busy."

Jersey went over to the dining room entrance and stood looking at the crowd. He noticed a radio was playing ‘Chantilly Lace’. The melody floated above the murmurings of the diners. Then he saw her. He didn’t know it yet, but he had found the prettiest witch in South Jersey; maybe anywhere. The first thing he noticed was her violet eyes. He had not seen violet eyes for over 200 years. He shuttered. ‘I’m in love’.

She was sitting with another girl and an older woman. They were laughing. He waited. He looked for the umpteenth time at the Inn’s old photos of smiling fisherman flanked by big, dead, prize-winning fishes hanging upside down on big hooks. He scanned the knotty pine walls and the red and white checked tablecloths. Then he gave in to temptation. He walked over to the witch-girl’s table. He smiled and put his finger into her pie.

Cheech! What’s wrong with you! she said.

He put his finger into his mouth. Apple, he said, delicious and so are you, beautiful girl.

The witch-girl turned a dangerous shade of purple, complimenting her violet eyes, but not in a flattering way. Do you always put your cooties in other people’s desserts, you jerk!

I’m Jersey Ratio. What’s your name, gorgeous girl?

None of your business.

I’m the Jersey Devil, himself. I’m told I’m handsome.

And I’m Cinderella. I’m told I’m irresistible to the prince.

What a lovely name. It flies up into the heart and makes a happy face.

Get lost, Bud.

No, it’s Jersey.

Jersey dear, said the older woman at the table, Meet my young niece, Maranda Raven and her friend Danielle Wolf. Putting fingers in other people’s pies isn’t done, you know.

Actually, I didn’t. I’m sorry, he said. He just stood there basking in Maranda’s beauty. The creek and the marshes peeked into the open windows to have a look at true love. A sweet, spring sea breeze meandered into the dining room. It rustled the ebony locks of the beautiful, violet eyed Maranda, before drifting out. Jersey almost fainted. The breeze felt better from exposure to the aromatic smells of fried seafood. It headed back to the marsh and the creek to tell them what he saw. They swooned. Maranda looked up into Jersey’s startled mahogany eyes. Who was this guy still standing there looking at her like a sick cat?

"I would only taste the sweets of a magical young beauty like you. You know; Chantilly lace and a pretty face …," He sang along with the Big Bopper.

Holy Moley! she said.

Maranda heard a laugh pop out of Aunt El’s throat. Then El stayed quiet. El’s twinkling eyes revealed she expected a show.

Danielle sneered. This was hardly the first time a hopeful guy had made a pass at Maranda Raven. Danielle gave him an A for originality and an F for everything else. El and Danielle knew from experience Maranda could handle him without any help from anybody.

Please come back another time; how about June of 1989? Pick a Sunday, she said to Jersey.

Thirty years from now? Oh baby, you’re gorgeous and you have a sense of humor too, and math skills. I’m yours.

Danielle suppressed a grin. El was about to burst.

‘What a jerk’, Maranda said to herself, but she noted he had a decent singing voice. Who are you, again? she said.

I’m Jersey Ratio, the famous Jersey Devil, your future ‘one and only’, baby.

How do you know me?

Everybody knows you, beautiful girl.

No, they don’t.

Jersey didn’t know her. He only hoped she’d be his ‘one and only’, some magical day before his time was up.

Danielle rolled her eyes and shook her head. Maranda was not surprised by Danielle’s reaction. Danielle was not a witch, but she’d been called one more than once. Maranda loved her for it.

Maranda noticed Aunt El winked at Jersey. Maranda figured her Aunt El would just enjoy her chocolate cream pie and hold her fire. El had impressive fire.

Maranda Raven was often referred to as a ‘knock-out’ by males of all ages. She had the face of a Greek Goddess and she had a more beautiful body than the most promising Hollywood starlet, but she didn’t care. Maranda had a sharp way about her. She tossed her long, shiny coal-black curls. Her violet eyes looked at him under raised eyebrows. The hair-toss move gave chills to just about every age-appropriate guy in the room; and some not so age-appropriate.

You don’t know me, Chantilly, and I don’t really know you, yet, but I will. I might surprise you.

I’m not easily surprised, and I don’t need anybody.

Jersey frowned. I know the feeling, he said.

That sounds sincere, she said. She looked up at him. Now, I’m surprised.

Jersey reached over and touched Maranda’s hand. She felt an annoying, happy little thrill the second his hand touched hers. She saw a burst of silver-black sparks fly when their hands met. The sparks shocked her. She quickly pulled her hand back and looked around. Nobody seemed to have noticed the sparks except Aunt El.

Ah, my lovely witch has found someone, at last. Aunt El said to Danielle.

Chapter 3

"So, I’ve found a magic girl. I’ll wager word gets around about a witch like you, Chantilly." Jersey touched her shoulder, they both sparked again. I know of witches. What I know, I like.

Jersey didn’t notice B-Money standing at the screen door with a big grin enveloping his cynical little face.

Maranda wished he wouldn’t make those sparks. It gave her the happy little thrill each time. She was a witch, but it was not common knowledge. Danielle didn’t know. Danielle only believed in well-documented scientific facts and some of those, she doubted.

You don’t impress me, Maranda said, Alpha Centauri is our closest star. It’s four or so lightyears away and light travels at 186,000 miles a second so you get the idea. That’s how far away I wish you were right now!

Jersey threw back his head and laughed woodenly until people stared.

Maranda was flustered. Aunt El could hardly hold herself together.

"So, you want me twenty-five trillion miles away, Chantilly? He had graduated with a PhD in math from the Nod School of Math and Engineering. He knew his numbers. Wow! It’s true some girls don’t like devils like me. But some girls do. Jersey grinned.

What’s that supposed to mean?

"Whatever you want it to mean, Chantilly, girl." Sparks flew.

Maranda felt the odd little happy chill again, but shook her head, trying to shake it off.

I might be in love with somebody else.

"But you’re not, Chantilly."

There are certain people I’m fond of.

And they’re at this table, my beautiful girl. He was sweating bullets. It’s a group I plan to join. Jersey sat down in the fourth chair at their table. He felt sweat-circles spread under the arms of his favorite, pale blue Brooks Brothers shirt. Let’s take a slow boat to China, my beautiful witch, he pressed on. China’s just a hop, skip and a jump next to old Alpha Centauri. He started to levitate her apple pie.

Maranda glared at him, You stop that, she hissed under her breath. You’ll scare everybody in here to half to death! Who do you think you are anyway? She hoped Danielle hadn’t noticed. Listen, Jersey whatever-you-are, Ratio, I guess you didn’t notice but we’re not alone. This is a public restaurant! Maranda thought she knew every young wizard in New Jersey; apparently not.

Hi, folks; excuse me but you have the most desirable lunch partner in South Jersey. I’m butting in. I hope you don’t mind. By the way, he said to Danielle, I love that name, Wolf! Grrrr!

Danielle kept eating.

We don’t mind, hon, said Aunt El, but you are cock-eyed brazen, and you don’t listen. You are cute though; carry on. Aunt El went back to her chocolate cream pie. Maranda noticed Aunt El was thinking this was one of the best lunches they’d