Alaska

Chapter 3. Bloody roses.

I turned the gate and peeked over the left, the direction her plot was. I strolled in sharply, head held high. I could see another profile over where she was. I walked alittle faster, keen to see this other individual.

I stopped dead in my tracks, I could hear the sounds of screaming and human flesh being slowly ripped from a still living body flood my ear canals. I spun three hundred sixty degrees, checking every direction for the source. When I found nothing, I paced forward. The sounds grew louder and louder, till my ears began to hurt.

Just as they had before, they stopped abruptly. I looked around for a moment before laying eyes on the person.

It was that woman from before; her eyes stared at me as she leaned over a unearthed casket. Our eyes met for a brief second, before she looked back down at the casket. She thumbed the lid over, finding the seam and placing her fingers under it. She barely strained to lift the bolted down lid. My nose filled was a smell that left me dry-purging on the spot. Her eyes shot back to me for a moment. There were like a doll's; black, and beady. When she saw I wasn't in too much trouble, she went back to the horrific task.

I watched her leaned over the decayed woman. The stench not even seemingly bothering her. She grabbed the corpse's scalp and pulled up, the neck gave a good snapping sound, and released the cranium. She stood up, and studied it. After five minutes, I guess something told her it wasn't what she needed and she placed it back. She squatted again, her dress riding up;giving me a taste of the distinct stitches that circled her almost perfect shaped, white legs. She stared hard for a moment, confusion clear on her grey face. Then a look of discovery appeared in the almost dead eyes. She reached again, and pulled out the woman's hand. She tugged on it alittle, to see if the decaying appendage would give way. When she judged it wouldn't she dropped it and turned she fumbled with a ratty brown sack next to her, pulling out a large knife. I gulped.

I would've run any other moment, but for some reason I couldn't. Not right then. There was something I needed to see, but at the time, I wasn't sure what it exactly was.

She studied the knife then with her right hand, went for the decaying hand, with the knife in her left, she carefully carved a line along the dead skin, almost as her guide. She then began to cut through the old bone. In a second, the hand was removed, and was held in her right hand. She studied it hard for a moment before taking it and the knife and shoving them back into the sack. She turned back to the casket, and slammed the lid shut. Then proceeded to pick it up and throw it back into the plot, it was almost humorous.

Almost.

She then kicked some dirt on it, then picked up her sack and turned back to me. Black eyes meeting my hazel. "What?" I finally managed. My inner monologue using this moment to show it's colours. She walked up to me, I stepped back. I wasn't overcome with fear, but I knew she was somehow dangerous. I could see that beautiful silver rose necklace. I wanted to reach up and touch it's near perfect appearance. Even on this thing shaped as a human. She reached up both white hands, and unlatched the necklace. She then took it and encircled my neck with it, "Stop...." The inner voice was dying too.

She clasped it together, it now encircled my neck. It was cold, freezing cold. I shuddered, but didnt take my eyes off her. She turned and murmured, her voice low and soft, "Keep it safe."

She made a sharp turn to the gates, and walked faster than anyone I had ever seen in my life.

I took this moment to shake myself and take a look around. I turned and faced Gran's head stone, and took a step forward. I felt something crunch under my feet, I looked down to see the beautiful ruby roses buried under my foot. Their beautiful heads stared pleadingly up at me. I removed my foot and picked up the limp beauties. "I'm sorry." I murmured to the flowers.

I then walked slowly over to Gran. I placed the limp beauties right in front of her headstone, so she could see them. I was still shaking all over, I looked up and read the marble script.

"Melinda Garnet."

I repeated.

"Melinda Garnet....Who was that?" I ran my hand across cold marble. I then felt something drop on my head. I abruptly looked up to see that it was raining. "Of course." I mumbled standing up, I couldn't stay now. My mother hated the rain, and what she hated more than the rain was us out in it.

I stared at the grave for a moment before beginning to walk towards where I had ditched my bike. I tried as hard as I could to come up with a rational explanation for what I saw exactly. The more and more I tried, the more and more stupid the explanation sounded in my head. I mounted my bike and pedaled slowly down the sidewalk, passing the flower shop, the light dimmed lights and "CLOSED" sign never looked more inviting. I didnt want to go home at all. I pedaled faster, letting the wind whip across my cold face. I looked up slowly, trying to side track myself with the grey sky.

I failed miserably.

I hopped off the bicycle and guided it to the back with my sisters' bikes. I checked for the key under the eave then unlocked the brass door knob. It hadn't been three minutes inside the door when the tears started pouring.

I stared blankly at myself in the mirror by the doorway, I couldn't comprehend why tears were streaming quickly down my face. I closed my eyes and opened them again. I looked at the floor, ashamed of not being scared out of my wits after watching a crazy woman chop off a corpse's hand.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks. I felt angry now, 'You didnt even stop her, or try at least.' my inner mono pointed out mockingly.
It was right, I had been weak. I shouldve ran, or at least kicked dirt on her or something to make her stop. I made my way to the kitchen, and sat at the ivory table. I scanned for the clock, reading carefully the time.

Five Thirty. Safe.

I looked over to the fridge to see a small sticky note against the freezer door.

John (She titled her notes with Daddy's name because there are too many of us)
Went to the Target In Wickers with Jenny. (Her best friend)
Be back at seven.
Meal in crock pot.

Knowing it was in the crock pot meant I was going to have to fish it out.
I sighed and turned to the corner of the counter where the large crock pot perched itself promptly. As I neared it, I could smell beans.
No, not beans.
I hastily pulled up the lid and took a peek.
Pork, and beans.
Great.
I enjoyed Mama's pork and beans to the fullest extent. I did. But not on school days which required you to be with twenty other immature students who think one's innocent bodily function is hilarious! Especially with three girls. I knew M-J was going to throw a fit and make herself a sandwich of bread and fat free mayonnaise (nothing else).  Beatrice would smile and eat it, then say she was too sick to go to school tomorrow. I on the other-hand would be spiriting off to Gran's house for a grilled cheese sandwich and a game of sequence.

I pulled open a drawer and fished out a large plastic spoon.
Not tonight.
I went to the cabinet and searched for a large plate.
Not tomorrow night.
I fished out a large chunk of pork onto the plate.
Not ever again.
I stared for a moment into the murky liquid the pork and beans swam in, then shook my head. I had officially made my self esteem go down by three points that day. I spooned the beans around the pork, when I thought there was a enough for everyone, I went and ripped away three paper towels for napkins.
Grabbed a fork and knife and set the table. I skipped cups. Everyone can get their own drinks. I carefully set the now heavy plate onto the table. I walked slowly out of the kitchen and up stairs. I knocked carefully on Mary-Jane's door. I heard an angry squeal and quick flurry of cusses, "WHAT?" she screeched from behind her door. "Dinner." I replied, unaffected by the temper-tantrum.
She quickly opened the door.

Mary-Jane was a mixture of both of my parents. She had a squat appearance, like Mama. Her face was like Dad's except much more feminine, and had thicker lips. Today she wore a small pair of jeans that hugged her legs tightly. "What did she make?" she asked in a sudden flurry of words.

"Pork and beans."

She moaned and slammed the door shut. "I'll be down in a minute." she snapped.
"I am in high school. We have homework."
I didn't even bother to roll my eyes as I continued down the hall towards Beatrice's room.
I tapped softly, "Yes?" she replied lazily, the blare of sponge bob came form her television. I silently turned the knob to enter her pale purple room. "Dinner's ready."
"Mama made pork and beans."
I nodded. I watched her hop up from her polka dotted bed sheets and fix her button-up blouse.  "I guess I'm not going to school tomorrow." she winked as I smiled weakly, "They will eventually catch on." she pulled her long finger to her mouth, "Until they do, not a word." she whispered and smiled back.

We made our way down stairs to the den. "Daddy?" I asked creeping into the den silently, "Hmm?" my father's deep voice asked, it all came from his throat when he talked. "Dinner's ready."
"What did Mama make?"  he asked standing.
Like it matters, I thought "Pork and beans." my father will eat anything.
"Good." he always said that when he couldn't find a better word.

Our small group sat noisily at the table. "Looks Good Sara." Daddy patted my back like I had prepared it.
"Thanks."
We murmured a grace and dug quickly into the pork. My father already brandishing his knife and cutting Beatrice and I thin, "girl" slices. I dipped my spoon into the beans. Taking a small amount to eliminate too big of a chance of any accidents in class. Beatrice murmured softly to me as she reached for her second helping of the beans "We have tums and beno."

"Oooh." I eased into as I reached up again to take more. We ate silently. Without Mama, we all were unable to start a conversation. Finally M-J  ran down the stairs, "Is there any left?"
"Lots..." Daddy murmured cutting another slice off of a large piece. She laughed that hard to accomplish laugh and ran to the kitchen. Immediately sitting and cutting herself a liberal piece off. "So today in Gym..." and she was off.

I stared at my shuffling feet as I tuned out Mary Jane best I could. When she finally finished, Daddy awkwardly went around the table, asking us how our days were. My respond was, "It was okay."

"That's interesting." M-J murmured under her breath sarcastically. "Everyday isn't an adventure Mary-Jane." Beatrice shot in my defense. The table went silent with a pregnant pause. I could almost here the food digesting. "I'm gonna start on my homework." I murmured standing.
"You did'nt start already with Ben?" My father furrowed his brow.
"I was at the church." His expression changed quickly.
"Oh, good luck." he fired turning back to his plate. Wanting to change the tender subject completely.

I took a deep breath and walked normally up the stairs.

I sat silently at my black desk, staring down at unhelpful notes. I looked back at my paper, where my ready to be solved copied question waited patiently. I sighed and pulled away from the desk and impossible homework. I went to my window, that truly was the best feature of my room. I peek behind the white i-let curtains to see the small street. I watched individuals and cars go by slowly as the light dimmed, and the sun died away. I closed my eyes, seeing pink behind my eyelids.

I was nothing without that woman. I was absolutely nothing. I couldn't even solve a math problem without thinking of her. Scratch that, my self-esteem went down by four points that day.

I dove onto my cool bedsheets. I kicked off my pants and shirt and laid there. My head was against soft pillow, it was so soothing.
I fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning with a headache and sore thighs. I sat and checked the clock, It was eight. I slide out of the warm cocoon and went to my dresser.

I picked my favourite musical shirt. The black one with Mr.Todd's face staring menacingly at any passers. I wore that and a pair of baggy jeans.

I felt in a tread that entire day, like that incident; in which I had finally assured myself in was a hallucination was the only thing keeping me from collapsing on the ground.

I ignored Benn completely that day, he did'nt seem to notice and followed me like the friend he was trying to force. I went through the entire day staring forward, copying assignment and keeping to the large novel I had acquired the day before. I actually made myself interested into the book, which after the first chapter, was rather boring.

I rode home silently, rather determined this time not start raining salty water down the sidewalk. I got home successfully and ran to the stairs to steal into my room for the rest of the night.

The days repeated themselves. Days turned into lonely weeks, thus turning into months. Two, at least. I had not seen the strange woman or her severed arm. As each day went by, it became harder to smile at Mama and Daddy when I said Good Night. It became harder not to cry when I got a bad grade. It even became harder to walk, with that horrible feeling of wondering and fearfulness that clouded my air like a thick smog.

On Friday I collapsed. I was walking to the table, towards Ben. When my legs gave way, and my tray turned. It spilled jello and the sandwich I had bought on the floor. I watched it for a moment, then looked up. I expected people to be concerned, to be looking over at me worried.

But instead most students were stifling laughter. I felt blood quickly rush to my face, that monologue came back quickly, whispering words of disdain.

'Stupid, clumsy girl.' 'they are laughing at you.' 'nobody cares'

I realized.

I was laughing at myself. I took my palms and placed them against my eyes. I opened my mouth to allow a silent scream to escape.

So there I was, thirteen years old. Crying in front of five hundred other students on the floor on an old cafeteria. I let it all pour out, never making a sound. My mouth making the silent motions as I sobbed pitifully into my palms. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I knew who it was, but i did'nt want them to see my face. My hard, unfeeling face; red, and ruined and covered in hot tears. I cried harder and harder, that lump in my throat growing. When my tears stopped producing I knew my body was done. I closed my mouth and removed my palms, my mouth drawn into the usual natural frown. I wiped the stray tears onto my sleeves looked over to Ben. I was right, it was him. His eyes were down, looking back into my own eyes. His eye lids drawn all the way up giving him a more or less alarmed appearance. I stood slowly, and walked slowly out of the cafeteria.

 

 

 xoxoxoxo

COPYRIGHT & © ROAD KAMELOT 2008-2009