Strange Tales From South Philly: An Anthology by Pete Bertino - HTML preview
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A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Hello readers! You might be wondering what I mean exactly by strange tales. Well it’s hard to give an exact answer but I think I have a good way to describe what you are in store for. This anthology was inspired for my love of TV shows like
‘The Twilight Zone’ and ‘Tales From The Crypt’ and so on. I still watch these shows often and love the twist endings.
The episodes of some of these shows had my mind running with wonder and guessing what might be actually going on and why. These stories try to capture the magic that made my heart pound and my hands shake. The first story, ‘Hollander’s Island’ would be at home on an episode of ‘Tales From The Crypt’. It’s a period piece and was the hardest to write but the one I am most proud of, hope you like haunted houses.
The other stories, except the last, one were inspired by various episodes of ‘The Twilight Zone’ that have haunted me since I first saw them on Nick at Nite when I was a teenager. The last story in this collection, ‘My Friend, Bob’, to me would be a good comparison to some episodes of 80s anthology series ‘Amazing Stories’. It’s a more upbeat story, a comedy that I thought would be a perfect end to this novel about the strange.
Pixels Of War: A comedy about the pain and horrors of the console wars.
Once Upon An Altered Time: A fairy tale about a little girl that becomes a powerful witch, in an alternate America
The Time Rippers Book 1 A story about redemption and time travel The Time Rippers Book 2 Gettysburg: Dig and AM continue their search for missing components of the Roswell UFO craft heading into the wilderness of a America divided by Civil War
The Time Rippers Book 3 Food For The Gods: A battle between good and evil in the American Southwest
all work is available in e format at Amazon, search Pete Bertino at Amazon’s Kindle Store
follow author on social media: Twitter: @petefiftyeight
HOLLANDER’S ISLAND.............1
SUMMER, 92.................................54
THE APARTMENT ON
SNYDER AVE.......94
NEIGHBORS..................................107
THE LIST........................................149
MY FRIEND BOB..........................211
ABOUT THE AUTHOR.................307
BY PETE BERTINO
THIS STORY IS COPYRIGHT PROTECTED 2/04/2020 PETER
JAMES BERTINO AUTHOR; AND MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED
WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR.
DEDICATION: TO THE FILM MAKERS THAT SCARED ME AS A CHILD.
1The man giving the interview had a gelatinous set of jowls that were a bright red and jiggled as he spoke. He put Stanley in mind of the old blood hound his neighbor had. He, the interviewer not the dog, was a man in his 60‘s with gray hair wearing an expensive suit of a similar color and was the picture of a man with a taste for rich food and wines to accommodate his portly stomach.
Stanley could hardly believe such a person could be so large and still function.
Stanley’s father said he’d see some odd things amongst the city folks, but this mans obesity still caught him off guard. He did not arise when the secretary let him in and gave just the limpest handshake imaginable. Stanley was already doubtful and this rotund mans briskness upon first meeting redoubled his doubts.
His desk was bare except for the papers Stanley gave him and an ashtray made of stone that held a smoldering cigar that smelled musky, not sweet like the smoke of his fathers pipe. Stanley introduced himself clearly, the fat man, nodded and gestured for Stanley to sit.
“Thank you, Mr Shaw. Cold one out today.”Stanley said trying to engage the man in small talk.
“Indeed. Mr Freeling, perhaps you could tell me your qualifications.” Shaw said holding his cigar between his pudgy fingers.
Stanley cleared his throat as he sat, the only sounds were the ticking of a clock in the secretary’s alcove and a paper boy shouting the days headline while peddling the Pennsylvania Inquirer.
“Van Buren takes oath! Read all about it!”
Stanley felt his stomach turn as Shaw exhaled a puff of smoke. He took a quick deep breath as he settled himself in the chair. The few signs of life Shaw showed became non existent as Stanley recited his proud if some what exaggerated proficiency at book keeping and office management.
But Shaw was immobile and looked upon him with narrow eyes.
Stanley felt queasy as the fat man took another lungful of cigar smoke, he held his hand up while Stanley was in mid sentence. He felt like he was drowning in smoke. This opportunity of working for one of the finest real estate firms in Philadelphia society seemed too big for his imagination.
Not for Dawn Anna’s imagination though, he saw her yesterday evening for dinner and afterwards they had taken a few moments for solitude in the parlor while their folks sat in the dining
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room. It was a good luck dinner and Stanley felt he would need wagon loads of luck to attain such a job.
“Oh, Stanley imagine living in Philadelphia as man and wife.” she said embracing him before sneaking a glance to make sure they were unobserved and stealing a kiss from him.
Though he loved her deeply, his self doubt made it hard for him to show joy. Her cheeks where pink with euphoria and humor but her smile faded when she looked at him closer.
“You’re not excited, darling?” she asked as he stood at the window facing the porch with his hands gripping the sill tightly.
“I am worried I may not secure this job. It was never meant for me to begin with. Poor old cousin Arthur, if that horse hadn’t kicked him off he’d be on his way, instead of bed ridden with broken legs. He’s had a proper education and has been preparing for this for months as I’ve only had a few days.”
He let go of the sill, speaking hurriedly and felt his heart and stomach vibrate with fright as he paced the room, he ran a hand through his hair and clenched his other in a fist as his breathing grew more hectic. Dawn Anna reached out and took his face in both her hands and kissed him, causing him to stop babbling.
“Stanley,” she said looking him in the eyes, her hair was the color of apples and honey that shined bright in the light of a lantern hanging in the window. “this man Shaw will take one look at you and know you’re the one for the job. He’ll give you a housing allowance, and then we’ll marry in a fine church in the city. And I want to invite as many people as we can fit inside so everyone can see what a successful man I’m in love with.”
She kissed him and they embraced again. He still held reservations when he went to bed that night, and barely slept. His father drove him in their carriage to the station for the red eye train to Philadelphia. Though he loved his father he barely spoke to him on the ride over, when they reached the station his father gave him a pair of ten dollar gold coins.
“You buy a present for my future daughter in law, ya hear?”
3
His father’s eye brows that were as white and wispy as spring clouds went up in a question.
“And why wouldn’t she my lad? She loves you.”
“Yes and I her, but if I do not get this job she’ll be devastated, she won’t have me as her husband.”
“Bah. She loved you last week when you was still a foreman or when you was choppin down them pines before that. I remember she fell sweet on ya when ya helped raise barns in Porter village, ya didn’t get no wages then if I remembers correctly. Dawn Anna is a good girl, and if she loves ya this wont be nothin but a speed bump if you don’t get the job.Yer mother, God rest her soul, would tell ya the same. ”
The whole train ride and the two hours he waited before his interview at a cafe on Walnut street, he remembered what Dawn Anna and his father told him, feeling good about his chances until now.
“Mr Freeling, I don’t think you understand what the position I’m offering is.” Shaw said moving his cigar holding hand causing an ash to plop on the desk.
Stanley opened his mouth to speak but Shaw over rode him.
“I’m not looking for an apprentice. I have too many clerks as it is and you hardly have the experience or education for such a title. I’m not entirely sure I would have hired Arthur either.
No, I have more need of builders and men that work with tools and the such.” Shaw said brushing the ashes to the floor and wiping his hands with a handkerchief.
“Really? Why?”
“I look over scores new properties across the city, some are homes and apartments with out tenants and or even worse bad tenants leaving me with endless maintenance issues I’d much rather hire someone else to worry over.” he said taking another draw of his cigar.
“Well, than perhaps I understand more than you think, Mr Shaw.”
4“Yes, I am a foreman with Dark Hollow Lumber, I helped build the saw mill and raised a half dozen barns that are still the finest in all of the village I was born in. I even had a hand in building the bridge that crosses over the Schuylkill river helping connect Dark Hollow road to the main road of Porter so we can haul more wood to the city quicker.”
Stanley felt the words coming out in a comfortable rhythm that was unrehearsed but sounded professional and competent in his own ears. He felt his confidence redouble when Shaw began to nod his head in agreement. Stanley continued as the fat man toked on his cigar again.
“I’ve proficient skills when it comes to all manner of tools. I’ve even used a steam powered saw machine when I was still a lumber jack hauling pines to the mill.”
Stanley folded his arms and simply smiled at Shaws raised eyebrows, he laughed and placed his cigar back in the stone ashtray. It was the most he had moved during the entire interview so far.
“Mr Freeling, I would like you to have this job. I’ve got my pick of handymen looking for work, migrants usually. Dirty Italians and Irishmen mostly, the occasional nigger of course. But I’d prefer and trust a native white man for such seniority. Of course you’ll have a say on who works under you, but I’d like to discuss your salary briefly. I’d be willing to offer two thousand for the first year.”
When Stanley heard the figure he felt his heart drop and possibly his jaw. Shaw had cleared his throat and coughed at his reaction thinking it wasn’t a good enough offer.
“That of course and a sizable housing allowance, eh? You have a fiancée I’m sure who would be eager to share a home with you. That’s a generous proposition, I think. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Stanley felt his heart pound against his chest at the stark realization that he had acquired a high paying job in one of the fastest growing real estate firms in the city, and he and his beloved Dawn Anna would be riding on the fast track of urban society. He nodded and stuttered briefly.
“Thu-thu- thank you, Mr Shaw.” he said shaking Shaws hand and actually getting a grip this time.
5“Come, there is an establishment down the street that makes an excellent roast beef. We’ll discuss more details over a meal. My treat of course.”
Although he was a fat man, the cold damp March weather and perhaps his hunger had him quickly make his way between the sea of people with the grace of a dancer, using a thin brief case he carried as a wedge to get between people not moving fast enough. For Stanley seeing so many people at once left him feeling dizzy, he knew Philadelphia had many people but the sheer volume shocked him when a carriage brought him to down town.
After walking two blocks they came upon an ale house with a hand carved template of cherry wood in its window that said Red’s Beef & Ale. It was crowded with mostly men dressed in work clothes, there was a smell of hard boiled eggs and cooked pork hanging in the air. Amongst the many patrons were serving girls wearing long colorful dresses and white blouses that were cut so low they revealed their cleavage.
Stanley felt the color rush from his face when he thought of Dawn Anna dressed in such an outfit. As they entered a few people looked their way but most continued drinking and eating, celebrating the end of another work week. A young girl wearing a dress the color of teal took them to a corner booth, the seats were hard wood and and smelled of pine oil. The girl smiled and welcomed them cheerfully, Stanley thought she was too young by many years to be in such a place, let alone working as serving wench.
Though it was perhaps her youth and her being just few years out of childhood that put the smile on Shaws face that grew bigger than his eyes as he peeked at her breasts while she leaned over to serve them their ale a few moments later. Her brown hair was tied up high in a bun, her complexion was youthful though she wore a light rouge on her cheeks. Stanley felt slightly embarrassed that the man who would be paying him so much money treated a girl that way, he felt apprehension for the first time that day.
Shaw talked for a few moments about how good the ale was here and that the beef was the finest served in all of the city. Then he was silent, casting side long glances at the other girls serving patrons at the bar and the other booths. The girl returned to take their order, Shaw gazed her up and down as he ordered a roast beef and insisted Stanley order the same.
“Ahh, how lovely the girls are here. I come for the meat and the sights.” he said once the serving wench left.
Stanley smiled dutifully and took another sip, hoping Shaw had an employment contract in his brief case. He checked his pocket watch wondering if he would have time to catch the last train 6at nine o’clock, though he was reluctant to leave without some kind of guarantee or contract. As if reading his thoughts Shaw asked.
“How soon can you start, Mr Freeling?”
“Immediately, if necessary.” he said feeling that was the best answer.
“Ah, excellent.” he said as the food arrived.
The sandwiches were indeed hearty and came with a ceramic bowl of something called fried chips and another filled with a sauce to dip the sandwiches. Shaw didn’t speak, saving his mouth for the food and his attention for the serving girls. When the last bit of food vanished from Shaw’s plate he began talking again.
“As I was saying,” he said wiping his chin with a cloth napkin. “I would like you to begin tonight. I have a property that needs evaluation.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, you have an open ended ticket home I’m sure. The property is a large house and will require a few days to evaluate. When you return I’ll have a contract of employment for you. I doubted I would hire someone today so you’ll forgive me if you’ll have to wait.”
“Not at all. Where is this house?”
“On an island south of here. It is where the Delaware and Schuylkill rivers meet and you’ll need a ferry to reach it.”
“I didn’t know there was island here.”
Shaw grunted.
“Hollander’s Island,” he said as he bit the end of a cigar before lighting it.
7 He rummaged in his brief case sitting by his seat and brought out an actual photograph and handed it to him. Stanley had seen one or two over the last few years very good ones, this however was of poor quality. The house looked like two houses connected at the side facing each other at a wide angle like the letter V, the photo itself was bleary as if the house was squirming as the picture was being taken.
“It’s...” Stanley started to say.
“Magnificent.” Shaw finished,
Stanley didn’t agree and thought the double faced house looked like a double broken grin. Shaw said it was magnificent, though he did not even glance at the picture as he gave it to him, and turned it away from himself when putting it back. It was not a big thing but it stood out to Stanley.
“It’s a dozen acres surrounded by a pine forest. The land originally belonged to Stephen Girard, the house is older though I can’t recall who built it.”
“Stephen Girard.” Stanley asked, clearly impressed as Girard was once one of the richest men in America, though he had been dead for decades his name was well regarded still in Philadelphia.
“Yes,” he said smiling at Stanley’s reaction. “it is secluded and quiet and I intend to bring it back to its former glory through renovation. I’m sure you’ll be able to assemble a crew to get it livable again.”
“Unless there is too much damage, structurally speaking.”
Shaw grimaced at his words, but Stanley wanted to let his new boss know there is the possibility of such, as little as he may like it, he continued.
“The islands elevation maybe low at certain points and flood during the rainy season and then there is the roof...”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Shaw said slightly perturbed. “and you shall remedy it all. My goal is to sell and damn the consequences. There are fortunes to be made, my boy.”
8He suddenly took some coins from his pocket and placed a few on the table.
“For the girl, finish your ale and wait for me out front. I’ll find the ferryman and he’ll take you over.”
With briefcase in hand he exited Red’s through throngs of more customers entering, he elbowed a few patrons getting his coat on, ignoring their looks and comments. Stanley finished his ale as the girl collected her fee and wished him a good day. He put his hat and coat on and went outside into the growing twilight.
There was a deep chill and the street was emptying of people as the minutes ticked on and the light grew to an eggplant color as he stood watching the city slowly unwind from the day. There were a few street corner lanterns already alive with flames, unmoved by the early March breeze.
Stanley stood out front alone, in the distance people walked here and there and the noise of people back inside Red’s was a distant hum of noise.
He stood less than one hundred feet from the street corner where Chestnut going east to west crossed 12th street going from north to south, with his back to the wall on Chestnut. Standing high above at the curb of the cross section was a street lantern casting a feeble light that did not reach him, nor did it reach the face peering from around the corner on 12th that he suddenly noticed despite the darkness. The eyes were white on the persons face, who appeared to be a Negro woman. He could see a gold kerchief wrapped around her head, but her eyes were what drew him.
They appeared to be almost all white, no iris and the pupils were just pinholes of darkness.
Stanley felt ice grow under his skin, all he could see was the bridge of her nose up to the top of her head behind Red’s corner wall, as if her head was sideways. The image made his stomach turn, Stanley was about to speak when the face slowly slid back around the corner.
He felt his heart beating heavily in his chest waiting for the women to reappear. After a moment he slowly walked to the corner still close to the wall. He felt his mind try to make sense of the encounter and felt afraid suddenly she might be trying to rob him. He took a breath and nearly collide with a group of tipsy men talking gaily, his heart was stuck in his chest from the scare as he apologized profusely.
“It’s alright, guvanor!” said a man with whiskey fumes on his breath.
His friends laughed as the man patted Stanley on the shoulder as he passed by. Stanley put his hand to his chest as he looked down the street the woman peeked from but he saw only an empty 9avenue with not a carriage or person about. A few houses lined the street, some with lightened windows, who ever had peeked at him might have lived in one of those houses, he walked back in front of Red’s to wait as he reasoned with himself.
He had only seen one or two Negro’s before coming to the city. Since then he had seen five or six hauling luggage in and out of the Pullman cars at the train station. He had seen one on Broad street shining shoes for two cents. He had never seen a woman Negro though and thought that was why the sight had surprised him, but certainly not frightened him.
“No, not at all.”
He felt his heart regain its proper beat and looked back towards the corner waiting, almost willing the woman to appear again. He held his breath waiting his heart beating evenly, with the occasional jump.
“Ridiculous.” he said in harsh exhale.
He walked back to the corner, determined to stand and wait, perhaps he had frightened her by being impolite and staring back at her. He stopped an inch short of the corner, scolding himself for being so immature and was greeted with a harsh shout.
“Damn, harpy.” growled Shaw as he bumped into Stanley while turning the corner.
Although, Stanley gasped aloud and had gone a shade paler than normal, Shaw either didn’t notice or didn’t care and judging by Shaw’s current mood, he guessed it was the latter. His heart was doing triple beats but he dutifully asked what was wrong.
“God damn him, won’t cross the channel after sunset. Christing Irish are cowardly bastards, they should be thrown out of the country right along with the niggers.” he said glaring back down the street where the face peered from.
“Did you see one?” asked Stanley.
“One what?” asked Shaw shortly.
“A...uh...Negro woman. She wore a gold kerchief around her head.”
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Shaw stared back quietly for a moment, he looked pasty and fatter in the light of the lantern. He toked on his cigar and exhaled a cloud of smoke as he answered.
“I saw no one, feeling randy?” he asked with a glint in his eye Stanley did not care for.
“No, I just thought I saw some one I knew was all I meant.” he tried to sound calm and even as he said.
“Indeed. Come,” he said rummaging in his pocket. “there is a men’s clothes shop you’ll need to visit tonight they are open until eight so we must hurry and find a hansom cab.”
“Clothes?”
“Yes,” he said handing Stanley a handful of coins which included a few Double Eagles as well as a scrap of paper with something written on it. “I expect you to spend a few days getting dirty, check the property top to bottom and write down all the damages on a notebook.”
“I...”
“I’ve got the ferryman bringing you everything else you’ll need, go to this address here and tell the clerk my name and he’ll give you a discount on whatever you purchase. The second address here is a boarding house with a morning wake up you’ll be leaving early tomorrow so don’t dawdle out on the streets tonight. Can you ride a horse?”
“Yuh...uh, yes, Mr Shaw.” he said trying to remember everything he said.
“Good, there is livery stable address written there as well, there are a dozen miles of forest until you reach the river. I’ve hired you a horse and the woman running the stable was kind enough to provide a map and compass. Do not lose it as it is only a loan and the horse as well, the Irishman will stable it at his home while you are gone.”
After Shaw hailed him a cab he assured him a contract would be ready for him Monday morning when he returned. The next few hours had blurred by, he had taken time to see a few sights of the locale including the Liberty Bell which sat upon a lovely pedestal of four stout pillars of white
stone. He felt his heart twitch gladly at the sight. He bought a lovely bracelet for Dawn Anna and pocket watch for his father.
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On the way back he strolled on foot and found a stationery store and purchased a note book as well as a few pencils, paper, envelopes and a stamp. He wrote just a short note to his love saying there was a chance he might even be back with her before she got the letter and that he was just bursting with good cheer he thought he’d explode if he didn’t get it out some how. He finished it before the cab he took arrived at his final stop.
The boarding house was a two story building on the corner of 12th and Lombard that was of brick and mortar. A few feet from the entrance standing on the side walk was a wooden pole standing many feet higher than the street lanterns. It was branched at its top with a quartet of arms festooned with some type of rope or odd looking string that connected it to another pole further down though it was too dark for Stanley to see another in the distance.
He had seen them here and there since he arrived and every time he saw he had to look up at them feeling both excited and afraid though he wasn’t sure why. He entered the building and asked the elderly gentleman who checked him in about the pole out front.
“I’ve seen them along Broad street mostly. Why are they all tied together with rope?”
“Telegraph my, boy.” the old man said.
“Oh, yes. I’ve read about them in the newspaper.”
“Aye, and it ain’t rope they got tyin to each other, it’s called wire. Sends lectricity so’s people can talk to someone far way instantly.”
“Imagine talking to someone on the other side of the world instantly. Fascinating, don’t you think?” Stanley said enamored by the idea of instant communication.
“Devil’s work,” the man said harshly and lifted his hand as if he were about to slap Stanley in the face. “ if the good Lord wanted us all to talk he’d a made us all speak the same language. No good will come of such technology. Mark my words boy.”
Stanley felt taken aback by the old mans sudden outburst, so he dutifully agreed and asked him if there was mail carriage near by. The old mans tone was gentle again and said the mail carrier might be just around the corner as he had just dropped off some letters not ten minutes ago.
Stanley left his bags with the old man and ran around the corner where indeed was the mail carrier untying his horses in preparation to depart. He handed his letter to a soldierly looking 12
older gentleman who dutifully checked the postage before accepting it with a nod and a good day.
He felt light hearted as he checked his pocket watch and noticed the late hour. He wished he could of had time for a hot bath but they did not offer such a service here. Ah well, he had a sudden flash back to he and Dawn Anna going skinny dipping in the river last summer during a long heat wave.
Though they were both still virgins, they had in the last year or so found themselves being left alone more often when ever one of them visited the others home, allowing them to occasionally explore their love in a more intimate way. Stanley turned off the lantern on the small table beside his bed, the room was small but cozy and the bed soft. He left the window that was above the bed and not very big closed and the curtains shut as he buried himself deeply under a sheepskin blanket.
The last thing on his mind as sleep took him was fantasies of indulging himself on Dawn Anna when their wedding night finally came. He dreamed of her briefly, much too briefly for his delight. He found himself rolling in tall grass with her early in the morning and the sun is rising, they are nude and kissing. Their love is so hot it sizzles the dew on the grass that’s dripping on their taught bodies.
The delightful sensation of his loves heaving breasts as it glistened with a few beads of morning dew was gone, so was Dawn Anna. He was on all fours, but it was night now and under him was not Dawn Anna but the serving girl from the ale house. But she was different, her face was frightful with bruises and her eyes that were bright and cheery were filled with blood, one of them stuck out of the socket partially revealing a pink worm like discharge from the corner, her cheeks were covered with deep purplish blue bruises instead of rouge .
Stanley jumped up from her realizing she was dead, his member which a moment ago had felt like it had been forged in iron wilted like a poisoned flower, he was ready to run away but she was gone suddenly. The tall grass remained, but is was stunted and dead where the girl had laid, eaten away by all manner of bug. The untouched grass look infested with bugs, tiny little things with hairy legs and sharp pincers, the tall blades were coated with wispy spider webs, he saw many tiny black hands that were as small as toddler hands begin reaching out from between the blades.
Stanley gasped and ran but only for a moment as he looked around at himself and saw that the dense tall grass was gone and he was now surrounded by tall open spaced pine trees. A forest filled with infinite pine trees, he walks around for hours through the dense and tall trees.
He can hear nothing but the sighing wind and mammoth pines creaking above him, and though he is alone he feels like he is being watched. In the distance there is an unearthly glow rising as he walks further in, he can remember the blurry picture he saw and thinking they looked like faces grinning at each other. They weren’t faces, they were skulls.
He hears a scream and his eyes open and he finds himself looking down at the floor of his boarding room. The dream had almost caused him to fall out of bed, he took a breath and began an awkward flip back on his bed when he saw the window. The curtains were drawn open and tied back on both sides and although he was on the second floor, the face of the Negro woman with the gold kerchief glared at him, just as it had at Red’s with a face just peeking over the window sill this time though from his view her face was upside down.
He let out a great shout as he rolled into the night stand causing the lantern to almost tip over, the water glass however crashed and broke in the darkness. A voice from another room shouted.
“Keep it down in there you bastard, you!”
He landed face first on the floor and quickly turned himself over to face the window, but the curtains were closed again, the ropes for them untied and laying limp. He turned the lamp on and cleaned up the broken glass with a broom and pan stored in a closet down the hall trying to calm himself as he swept. Before he went back to bed he took a quick peek out the window to assure himself no one could have climbed up to his window.
Unless the woman had wings, no one could have been beside his window. He reasoned with himself that the excitement of a new job and the added pressure of these new responsibilities as well as the assurance he would be a married man by years end at the very latest had caused such a fevered dream. Still he found it hard to sleep and when he did it was thin and unpleasant as he found himself waking up every so often looking at the window to assure himself it was closed.
He had one last dream before the inn keeper knocked on his door. He was at the edge of a forest at sunset, whether it was the same forest he couldn’t be sure, his focus was on Dawn Anna who stood a few dozen yards away closer to the forest than he. He suddenly realizes shes walking into the woods. He screams for her to stop but she doesn’t hear him and continues her stroll towards whatever lurched amongst the trees.
He runs but he feels motionless, as if he were running through molasses. As he get’s closer he can see the Negro woman’s face peering over a low lying branch watching his bride with wide
eyes that glow like the skulls in his last dream. He finally reaches Dawn Anna, she is just standing at the very edge of the forest, the Negro woman is gone.
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He reaches to touch her and her head turns slightly showing a profile, her hair is gray and knotty and as white as spider silk, her skin pales and becomes gray and hairy like the hide of an ugly beast. The flesh on her cheek cracks and rips loudly as her mouth opens to release a ghastly scream.
“Morning call, Mr Freeling.” said the inn keeper with a brisk knock.
He sat up slowly with a quiet gasp and took a breath, his heart and stomach shivered as he realized it was just another dream.
“Are you up, Mr Freeling?” he asked a little louder with a harder knock which quickly began to irritate him.
“Yes, I’m up!”
“Alright then.”
After reliving himself in the chamber pot he dressed in a pair of his new dungarees and a white work shirt and work boots and packed the rest in the nap sack he purchased with the clothes and checked out. The sun was still far from rising and the morning was damp and chilly, a translucent mist hung in the air. The stable was around the corner on South street, which was the border between the city and the wilderness of South Philadelphia.
Although the front window on the street side was lit he got no answer when he knocked on the door. It was a simple one story house out front with a lantern sitting in a panoramic window.
Stanley walked around to the homes backside where a gate to a grassy lot stood open. There were a few stables with horses looking docile and mysterious in the dark.
He found the back door to the establishment that had a brass knocker of a horses head at its middle. A lantern hung beside it with a bright high flame. It was after his second knock he heard someone coming.
“Son of the bitch. Cock suckin bastard.”
Stanley felt frozen with fright wondering if perhaps he was at the wrong place. Before he could worry anymore about it, the door opened. The man was short and chubby, with a shiny bald plate 15
surrounded by think tufts of black and gray hair that was in corkscrews and tangles. His face was puffy with sleep.
“Uh...um...”
“Well what is it? Ya hear about the horse? What’s yer name, again? Fuckling?”
Stanley had heard swears and uttered a few in his time, mostly while on the job, and he’d feel embarrassed for using such words. This man however cussed easily, like the swears were a normal part of his vocabulary.
“Freeling, yes uh...a Mr...”
“Aye, Shaw. Fattest fucker ever to walk. And that dumb friggin quiff I’m married to, agreeing to this time of hour, I have half a mind to drop a hot coal down her britches while her fat ass is snoring away right now. Shaw, that oafy bastard is as shifty as he is fat, aye the pigs look at him with envy at how he eats.
“I know I’m a bit large myself, but I do I wish that rotund piece of shit would go on a little row boat, so that fucker would sink on his way back to New Jersey. Only shit comes from that side of the river. Well, come the fuck in I ain’t heating the neighborhood and you gots papers to sign.”
Stanley stood in an office where the short fat man rummaged about, while mumbling about Shaw and New Jersey for a few minutes in a roll top desk with endless little drawers. He scowled the whole time except when he found the documents, he smiled a little even. He slammed the paper down on the desk and held a fountain pen to Stanley.
“Ya gots to sign this, so if’n you steal’em you’ll be aware I’ll set the law on ya. I’d done it once already. A bastard from New Jersey tried to make away with a mayer, nuthin but basterding thievish fuckers on that side of the river! You, you look like you’re from Jersey.”
“Sir,” Stanley said in a reassuring tone. “I am from the village of Porter. That is west of the city.”
“Aye! New Jersey, all you Jersey assholes are the same. You ride your fuckin horses left to right on the roads like your shakin a syphilitic dick after a hard night of drinkin.”
“I promise to ride your steed properly, sir.” he said being sincere.
“Aye, mayhap youse is one of the good ones. But mind me when I say I want my horse and map and compass back like I gave it to ya. My twat of a wife would let that fat fuck Shaw talk her into renting out her underthings.”
After a gruff goodbye from the horse trader, Stanley sat upon a large horse with a brown coat and mane that was long and clean. The map was clear and the direction was straight south for seven miles and then he’d cross the similarly named Hollander’s creek and head southwest for five miles. Clouds of purple and blue covered the sky while the mist hung still and grew denser as he rode away from the city and into the forest beyond. The trees here were not pine but mostly of the oak variety and more sporadic than the dense pine forest he had been working in back home.
It was quite dark at first but behind him the sky was edging towards dawn above. Below however all the mundane things around him looked like they had been coated in black ink. The trees were shadowy skeletons from winter, they moved slightly and groaned loudly when the wind picked up. The ground upon which the horse walked looked at times like a void and Stanley found himself closing his eyes waiting to fall into a pitch black world of nothingness for all time like death.
Stanley shook those thoughts away when he came upon a set of rail road tracks as the sky brightened more. In the distance where the tracks lay he could here the whistle of a locomotive and the familiar echo of its engine as it chugged along closer. He decided to wait for it before crossing though he might run late meeting the ferryman, judging by the sound it was only fifteen minutes away.
The train would have to slow down and turn at a sharp curve and would begin to gather speed by the time it reached where he stood. After a few minutes he could see the familiar sooty clouds contrasting clearly with the ever dawning sky. His nostrils flared from its repulsive scent which was one of the major reasons these particular types of trains had been outlawed from running through the city itself.
Here though in God’s country it was okay still. After ten minutes he could see the locomotive itself banking slowly and blowing its whistle. The horse was undisturbed and at peace though the whistle shrieked loudly.
The sound had even brought up Stanley’s spirits, he made a bet with himself it would be a RDG, according to the map they used these tracks and connected to the Reading station. As the
locomotive approached, he snickered at himself when he saw the logo of B & O on the side of the smelly behemoth. It was hauling passenger cars that were only sparsely filled.
17
And although the he was a dozen or so feet away and the train was building up speed, they were bright with yellow light and he could easily make out the faces of the passengers. A few even looked over smiling and waving, Stanley smiled back and waved. One was a young girl of perhaps ten who looked to be enchanted by the horse he rode and waved possibly to the horse with a glowing smile. The last car was not a caboose but a passenger car like the others that was poorly lit and appeared empty until it passed him and he saw a woman standing at the back window.
It was a white woman wearing a house dress that was torn, and the color was gray and black with filth. She could have been young or old, her face was indeterminate of age. Her hair put him in mind of a dry brown autumn leaves that were long dead and wrinkled. Her skin was pale and shiny except at the neck which looked raw and bloody.
When his eyes met her’s dark cloudy eyes the horse whined loudly and shrieked, he held the reins as the steed quickly pawed the air. Stanley looked down quickly for a snake as stroked the creatures mane and soothed him with a few words. He looked up at the passenger car again but it was too far away to see the woman, he stroked the horses mane some more and waited a few minutes listening for the hiss of a snake as he looked down at the ground all around them.
He had been so caught up watching the train and the roar of its passing his ride might have been standing over a pissed off rattler. Why else would it begin acting so agitated? Especially a horse used to living along side these stinking, screaming Goliaths. He rode on, although it was supposed to be still too cold yet for snakes, he kept looking down every so often as he picked up on a walking trail.
His clothes which started fresh and crisp were now damp from sweat and the mist hanging still in the air. The fog was sparse and the visibility was gaining though the sun did not break the clouds so far. The trees were becoming fewer and were getting smaller in size as he suddenly caught the smell of the river. After a few hundred yards he could hear the gulls and see the shimmer of water.
He came across Hollander’s creek which was slow moving and narrow, the horse crossed with ease and then he traveled southwest checking his compass in the dawning light every so often.
After twenty minutes of fast trotting he breached the forest and found the coast line which had grayish black sandy beach. Where the sand began was a sign on a thick wooden post written on it with black paint was: Howard Bros. Ferry
Following that was an arrow pointing up the beach line. It was here he was supposed to meet the ferryman at six. His pocket watch said it was quarter of the hour so he dismounted and tied the 18
horse to a nearby oak and stretched his legs on beach where the Delaware and Schuylkill river met.
He stood on the minuscule shore which was gritty under his feet and approached the rivers, he looked across the water, then up and down as far as he could and across again but the island was unseen. A thick fog still laid over the water and probably over New Jersey on the other side as well, the horse trader would’ve been glad to hear that. Stanley looked at the map again trying to judge where Hollander’s Island was but as he looked out onto the channel before him he saw only fog.
The sky was filled with low lying clouds of darkness that slowly slouched over him and possibly the whole word, Stanley was grateful he had brought his coat and had new boots in case it did snow. He hoped the ferryman brought a hatchet for fire wood, praying Shaw didn’t forget to mention it to him. Stanley stood looking down at the water feeling hypnotized by the waves lapping towards him as his brain ticked off the supplies he might need.
He walked a little closer to the water and found a large chunk of sedimentary rock covered with specks of quartz through out it, with two hands and a grunt he heaved it into the water just ahead of him. The rock hit the surface with an audible splash just a few feet from where he stood, creating a slight part in the water. He watched the water as the foam created by the splash spread out from a ring into an oblong shape as the rock slowly sunk to just below the surface.
Stanley felt drawn watching, surprised he could still see the shape so clearly which was longer now, an optical illusion from the water no doubt. He stared at the rock, it wavered like a dream, its shape reminded him of a face. He felt his heart skip a beat as he remembered the dream of the serving wench, her cheeks bruised so severely they were violet, the way the head was settled at an awkward angle.
His eyes widened and his heart stuttered in his chest as he saw the features of her face on the rock with a pair of quartz spaced just enough from each other to look like her eyes in the dream which were glazed and milky looking, but then the water began to churn as the wind picked up and grew too murky to see through.
“Watch yer, step.”
The sudden voice startled Stanley, causing him to almost fall from the slippery slate of rock he stood on and crash into the water. A hand grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back before
he could. He fell on his backside on the gritty gray sand bar with his heart in his throat and saw the person who had grabbed him.
19
He was a young man in his twenties and as tall as he was but that was the only similarity. On his head sat a worn bowler hat that held the reddest and curliest hair he had ever seen on a person.
His complexion was light, his face wore a curious smile as well as an endless supply of freckles.
He wore denim overalls and a yellow collared shirt.
Stanley smiled back as best he could, feeling foolish as he tried to stand.
“Let me help ya up.” he said with an accent that was light and airy, almost musical.
“Thank you. Are you...”
“Aye, Shane Howard.” he said offering his hand.
“Stanley Freeling.” he said shaking hands.
“Looking fer mermaids were ya?” Shane asked easily.
Stanley laughed nervously after glancing towards wherever the island lay.
“No,” he said forcing a laugh. “I was trying to see the island.”
“Bah, this time a year the fog wont lift until June. Sorry to scare you, I thought you heard me ride up.” he said nodding behind him.
Beside his horse was another steed, the new one was hooked to a small wagon filled with an assortment of items.
“I trust Shaw....”
“Aye, aye he did.” he said with a head shake and a small smile. “I brought ya plenty a canteens of water, tack and jerky to last ya the weekend.”
“Excellent.” he said while his stomach grumbled.
20
“Ya sound hungry.” he said with chuckle.
“Yes, I suppose. I haven’t eaten since early last evening.”
“Help me unload the wagon and I’ll split my breakfast with ya.”
“I’d be happy to help, but you don’t have to share out your food.”
“My wife always makes too much for me. One of the benefits of marrying an Italian woman is that they know how to stretch out the food. Nothing fancy though, just a few sandwiches, tongue.”
“Sounds great.” he said sincerely.
Shane removed a wheelbarrow first and began unloading the supplies with a quick but delicate ease, Stanley mostly just held the barrow.
“My boat is further up, the horse’s will get sucked into the mud and start panicking. Here, eat and I’ll lead the way.”
Although tongue was not his favorite food, it tasted as good as any beef and it settled the roar of his hunger nicely. Shane spoke as they headed towards a dock in the distance that was obscured by fog. His brogue accent and the dense fog made Stanley feel sleepy until he thought about his dreams and was suddenly wide awake.
“How far is the island?”
“Not very, just three miles from the shore. Crossing the channel is a pain in the dairy air.”
“Rough is it?”
“Aye, I’ve almost capsized a few times during the colder months. I usually don’t even make the trip this early in the year, not with the boat I have at least. And certainly not after dark, I know Shaw wanted you there last night, he offered more but I said not until sunrise. I’m sure he told you all about it.”
21
Stanley felt his face turn red so he pretended to look at something interesting in the distance.
Shane only laughed and said nothing more until the dock began to reveal itself in the soupy air.
From a distance the boat looked it had a large wagon wheel attached to it and tall metal cylinder standing on the deck.
“What kind of boat is that?” he asked as they drew closer.
“A paddle steamer, smaller than what you’re used to seeing I’m sure. My brother Alan and I built it.” he said proudly.
“The paddle wheel we bought from a farmer who had been using it for a windmill my brother and I refurbished it and bought this boat for fifty dollars from the Navy shipyard down river out on League Island. They was gonna scrap it.” he said as he put the wheel barrow down at the foot of the dock.
“Why?” Stanley asked, the boat was only 30 feet long and narrow but other than its size it looked like a good ship none the less.
“Well they got a new kinda ship called a tug boat that’s bigger and stronger than this little guy.
Those bastard move a hell of a lot faster than the leaky row boats Alan and me used to have, and we can’t afford a to buy one so we built our own.”
Stanley nodded as they finally reached the boat. It took just a few minutes to unload everything onto the steamer. When they were loaded, Stanley felt excited about his first ride on a steam boat as he stepped on deck. Once on board however, the boat seemed smaller especially with the dense fog.
Just a dozen feet ahead of him was the tiny trap door leading to the coal to fuel the engine which looked to Stanley like a modified kitchen stove but was similar looking to a Franklin as well.
Shane went to the tiny booth that held the steering wheel and removed a shovel hanging from a wall.
“Would you like me to shovel the coal? I’ve done it before.”
“No, just untie us if you wouldn’t mind.”
22
“Not at all, and I must say I’ve never seen a stove such as this. Is that a Franklin stove?"
“Well it’s that and parts of another as well, just a little modification my brother and I came up with. So you’re gonna try an fix up the summer home there?”
“That’s what Mr Shaw hopes. He thinks the seclusion while still being close to the city will be a major appeal to buyers.”
Shane didn’t say anything, his gesture was one of ‘sure, mister, whatever you say.’ Stanley didn’t know this man well but he still caught something a miss. Though it was far from rude, he could detect a bit of cynicism in the gesture.
“You don’t agree?” he asked hoping he didn’t sound arrogant or haughty.
Shane gave him a smile that was small but not very enthusiastic. He looked like he wanted to speak but was reluctant as he shoveled coal into the stove.
“I’m not one for biting the hand that feeds.” Shane said.
“Your opinion is your own, I’d not back stab a man who shares his breakfast with me. It’s not my money that pays you and if Mr Shaw wishes to throw his money away that is not your fault.
Please, I ask for your opinion only out of curiosity.” Stanley said.
“Well, he’d be better off cutting trees down there and selling the pine wood. That islands no good.” he said while shoveling coal into the stove.
“No good? Why?”
“I don’t think my wife would like me talkin about this, I know what me mother would be sayin, she spent most a her life back in Ireland and she stuck in her ways. I know she’d be goin on about puttin a curse on our family talkin freely of such a thing.”
“What thing? I’m not sure I’m understanding.”
“A curse, sir.” Shane said as he closed the stove door with the dusty blackened shovel.
23
There was no trace of humor or mirth in his words, his mouth was tiny on his narrow face. He gestured at Stanley who pushed the boat from the dock while Shane piloted the controls. The water was choppy and sloshed into foam as thick and white as curdled milk. Stanley felt his stomach churn like the waves below their feet.
He held on to the rail at the stern as the word curse crawled around his insides like a parasite.
Shane took a glimpse back and saw how pale Stanley had grown and felt guilty for saying such a thing to a stranger. His mother would certainly scold him for doing that.
“Could be I was talkin out my bottom really,” Shane said giving his passenger what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “this place has a bad history and it gives the old timers nightmares.”
“What bad history?”
“Well before there was that house, the injuns they had a burial mound on that island and during the revolution a militia built a fort over on top, lotta savages and minute men got killed and before they could finish the fight over it, the fort was burned down by the British. After the war a Marine general started building the house that’s there now.”
“Is that all?” Stanley asked.
“No, the general that built the house wasn’t supposed to.” Shane said with a grimace as he turned the wheel.
“See the General was on Hollander’s island while the lobster backs took over the city, after the general left the island, the red coats came and burned the fort down. Rumors went around that it was the injuns that had led the British to the fort as an act of revenge if you like. But that was never proven and the savages still wound up wit a treaty sayin the land was theirs for real this time.” Shane said with a sarcastic sounding chuckle.
Stanley felt the deck under his feet like he was still yet moving at the same time. He had the sensation of being a cork stuck out in the middle of the ocean. His stomach tossed and turned as they became just a shadow in the fog bank. Shane grimaced as he turned the wheel again before continuing the story.
“That Marine general didn’t give a cow flop though about treaties, big surprise, and he wanted that island for him and his bride but I think more so to piss of the injuns, anyway he gathered up 24
a squad of minutemen and chased out some of them red folks and killed the ones who didn’t run.
From what I’d heard it was hundreds a savages that got killed, men, women, little ones, too. I’d heard he burned most of the bodies right in what became his back yard.”
“What was the generals name?” asked Stanley who watched for the island closely as he unconsciously made his hands into fists so tight his knuckles were white.
“I don’t remember. I know he and his wife didn’t live there for very long after it was built.”
“Why?” Stanley asked holding a fist to his stomach.
Shane looked back and saw Stanley’s face was a little pale under his eyes were green bags of either exhaustion or sea sickness.
“Are you OK?” Shane asked.
“Yes,” he said giving the pilot a quick glimpse. “you were saying about why they left the house so soon.”
“Well, they didn’t leave the house. They died, the general was first. The papers said that he’d gotten a bad sun stroke while riding his horse in the backyard. Though they couldn’t explain why the horse he was riding had died too.”
“That is curious.”
“Well it was rumored that the generals wife had poisoned her husband cause he had been keepin company with other women, when she’d found out it sent her into such a rage she had poisoned his horse as well. The law believed she had hired some one to make the poison that killed her husband and his horse.
“The constable eventually arrested a nigger woman, who was supposedly a voodoo priestess, she was local known by the farmers to make poisons aimed at killin vermin and rats and things of that sort.”
“That must of been some trial.”
25
“She didn’t live long enough to go to court, she got taken out of jail by an angry mob of folks of mostly war vets who served under the general. They read some things about her in the newspapers after her arrest about her bein a voodoo witch and consorting with the devil. The constable as I heard it said he wasn’t about to cross the men who’d help Washington crush ‘The Whiskey Rebellion’ so he unlocked her cell when the mob arrived.
“They tied her up by the neck and tied the rope to the tail of a wild horse. Someone had smacked the horses rear and from what I heard on the corner was that it had run a good fifty yards down Market street before her head came off...”
Before Shane could speak further, Stanley turned and bent over the rail and regurgitated his tongue sandwich. The boat hit a rough wave sending a splash of vomit and water back into his face causing him to vomit more. As he wiped his mouth on his sleeve Shane handed a canteen to him looking as pale as Stanley did just a moment ago.
He took a few big swigs and swished the water around a minute or so before spitting it out over the side. His stomach recoiled when he heard about the beheading and the first thought he had was the floating head he saw. The thought of seeing something so violent and gruesome made him sick with fright, but the thought they were one in the same was what revolted him most.
“I’m sorry. I run at the mouth and I forget not everyone has the iron constitution I do.” he said getting back to the steering wheel.
“It’s alright. I asked, so I have only myself to blame. What became of the generals wife? How did she die?”
“Aw, come on now. Surely you can’t still want to hear this, do ya?” Shane asked.
“You can’t expect to start such a story and not finish it. Please, the story isn’t upsetting me it’s just that I spend little time on boats and the sandwich had no time to digest. Tell me, was it suicide?”
Shane took a quick look back from the wheel to him and saw that the color did indeed return to his face and he looked more animated than he had since shoving off.
“Well it could be. Though no one is really sure how she did it. Locals said she hung herself out of guilt, even the papers said so as well and for some people that makes it the truth. She may very well have, but that’s not enough to convince others something unnatural had strung her up.”
26
“Why?”
“Well, I’ve never gone in the house but from what I understand there’s a vestibule with a large chandelier hanging way up on the ceiling that is more than twenty feet high, ya need a special long stick to light the candles on it. And it’s too far to reach with a ladder, the general had paid a bundle to have some French architect to build a special pulley system to hang this behemoth.
Well that didn’t stop her, she was found hangin by the neck from a rope just a few feet off the ground, a rope that had been tied to the chandelier.”
Stanley felt his stomach bubble angrily again when he thought of the woman on the back of the train. No, he scolded himself. You’re just trying to fill your bad dreams with characters from this mick’s story is all. But the black woman he saw while waiting for Shaw, that wasn’t a dream.
“The island hasn’t had a steady lodger in all my time. Just the occasional drifters and those of a lower class then such a gentlemen as us.”
“Bandits?”
“Aye, robbers makin a camp mostly. Since the general’s death there was only one other thing that happened here that’s convinced some that the island is evil. There was a young girl several years back, went missing.
“Just a wee lass, had some kind of toss up with her pa and disappeared, her mom was long dead and the father was just heart broken. After a few days she still hadn’t returned, her father led a group of men to search the island claiming his daughter always wanted to visit, supposedly he teased her about there being a castle filled with fairies hidden in the forest there.
“They borrowed a pair of fishin boats and went to search the island and the house. They found her in one of the rooms, her wrists cut to ribbons with a piece of window glass. I don’t think she was more than twelve or thirteen. When me and Alan got our steamer built Shaw offered to pay us fee once a month to keep an eye on the island and the house there.”
“Do you?”
“Alan told him no, me I told him I’d take steamer around the island once or twice a month but I told him that was all. I said I wouldn’t set foot on there, place feels dangerous.”
27
“Wild animals?”
“No, just a bad feeling. Now I don’t believe it’s bad the way my mom and my wife think it’s bad.
But the place seems to attract a negative sort like a flame draws the moth. I feel like this place would burn me if I stood on the dock for too long. And when you’re as pasty as me you don’t want sun burns, though I enjoy the aloe rub downs from the misses afterwards.” he said with a laugh that sounded forced.
“How did Shaw get the house on the island? Surely this general had relatives that were bequeathed his land.”
“Maybe,” Shane said while gritting his teeth against another crashing wave, a sound that put him in mind of a drum being hit by a powerful fist. “if I was related to the general I don’t think I’d want it. As for how Shaw got this I don’t know, as long as my brother Alan and I have been ferrying people to the island, which is about four years now, he’s owned it.”
That made sense to Stanley, Shaw probably got it dirt cheap because of its bad history.
Something that stuck out like a sore thumb on what was probably a perfect piece of land otherwise, it was an acceptable risk for Shaw. He had that kind of money, and that mean Stanley had a chance to make that kind of money.
The worries that had filled him began to float away as he thought of being rich and portly like Shaw. The idea, though ludicrous, put a smile on his face, the dark forest and unhappy dreams were as distant as they would ever get. The rest of the trip was silent other than the sporadic slapping of the water by the paddle wheel and the waves crashing into the bow.
The boat felt a little easier on his stomach for a few minutes when Shane announced the dock was within view. Stanley gazed ahead but saw nothing but white thick fog, the paddle wheel began to slow as the deck under their feet began to smooth out again. Suddenly out of the dense whiteness Stanley could make out the beige sand bar and the weather beaten dock jutting out to them.
Within just a few minutes they where ashore and tied down, although the dock was rotting in areas it held the weight of wheel barrow and the two of them easily. Shane unloaded with the same professional speed and grace he had loading it up but pushed the filled wheel barrow only
up to the edge of the dock, stopping short of the ground. Shane made his way back as Stanley met him at the middle of the dock.
28
“There’s a path that’ll take you straight to the house. You can’t miss it.” he said nodding over his shoulder.
“Well for your troubles, Mr Howard.” he said trying to hand a few coins to Shane.
“Nah, Shaw’s already paid me. And forget the mister stuff, it’s Shane to my fellow working man.”
“Only if you’ll know me as Stanley. And I insist, for sharing your food with me and for your story about this place. They were intriguing. Please.”
“Well, my wife thanks you that’s for sure.” Shane said taking the proffered money in one hand and shaking his with the other. “And as for my stories, a lot of it is just things I heard on the corner and amongst drinking buddies. Second hand from people who don’t always mean well is what my dear mother would probably say. And she’d probably be right too, so don’t take any serious meanin to what I say.”
“Of course not.” Stanley said ignoring the quick awkward glance Shane gave the area as he spoke.
“Well, I’ll meet you here eight o’clock Monday morning. Make sure you don’t leave anything behind, I’ll be on a tight schedule Monday and I won’t have time to help you bring your stuff from the house.” he said quickly as he walked back to his paddle boat.
“I’ll be packed and ready before then.”
Shane gave a thumb up as he speedily untied the boat from the dock, Stanley felt an urge to scream out and stop him from leaving maybe even running out to get back on and head home.
He could even feel himself taking in the deep breath to do it, but he shook the strange urge out of him and found the path to the house instead. The fog had broken up on land but was a thick curtain that shielded the water from his view.
The path was still well worn despite the lack of constant foot traffic. The first thing Stanley noted was how much less dense the forest was than he’d expected. Then again those expectations
had been tainted by bad dreams. The pines here were big but not so many and although tall they held firm despite the curtain gust of wind that had picked up at just that moment.
29
Stanley looked ahead but did not see the house yet, it was a small island but was still of many acreages. As he made his way further into the forest the sound of the water lashing the shore became so much white noise. The forest it self was winter time quiet, they only sound was the squeaking wheel of the barrow and his booted feet.
Stanley briefly worried about animals. But he was a country boy and knew that animals did not usual bother humans, at least nothing small usually did.
“Let’s hope a bear hasn’t moved in.” he said to the trees wondering what he’d do if a black bear and its cubs were living in the house.
For a few minutes he had the sensation it was summer and there was a heat wave currently.
Sweat began to pour down the back of his neck as he heard the slight buzz of a mosquito pass his ear. He even put the barrow down and made an attempt to swat at it. He laughed a little when he realized it was still winter and he’d got caught up in a day dream.
“You’re silly, daddy.” said the voice of a young girl in his head.
The voice planted an icicle in his heart as he redoubled his grip on the barrows wooden handles hard enough to hurt. Was that in his head? It sounded as real as the mosquito he thought he’d heard. His heart was thundering in his chest, the voice was something so alien Stanley felt like he was losing his breath.
He was bent over as if about to vomit, his lungs were cramped and his heart was a beating like a humming birds wings. He stood up straight and closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide, sucking in a great amount of air. His heart slowed again the sweat evaporated and his forehead was cool, he opened his eyes and sucked in a smaller breath of cold March air.
The air was so cold in his chest his eyes watered from the sensation. He forgot about his overactive imagination and wheeled further into the forest. The air was thicker amongst the pines but their sent was not over bearing and soothed Stanley. The smell put him in mind of Christmas and helped keep the smile on his face even as he reached the house.
As he had followed the path he expected to see it at some distance, but that hadn’t happened. It had seemed to jump out at him from nowhere as he reminisced about kissing Dawn Anna under
the mistletoe. His heart skipped a beat but remained at regular speed as he looked upon the odd looking home.
30
Nature had reclaimed most of the front yard, the path grew rougher as it got closer to the manor.
Stanley removed the new leather tool belt and tied it to his waist enjoying its scent. He took a hammer and screw driver in case the keys didn’t open the doors, as well as the machete to cut down any tall weeds while keeping a close eye for poison ivy and oak. The white walls of the once great house were peeling and looked swollen with water damage, giving it an unhealthy gray color.
The front porch, which ran the length of the house had broken off from the house at the middle where it bent along the houses front. Its once majestic newel posts that were carved to look like the heads of Greek gods were now misshapen and split from exposure. The sensation of looking at a pair of giant skulls with broken grins wouldn’t leave him. The windows on the first floor were all shuttered but the second floor windows were open and had lost there shutters long ago, a few still had tattered curtains hanging in them.
The planks of the front porch were warped and gray with water and age, most of them were being reclaimed by the ground below decaying. And judging by the look and soft feel of the soil there was probably a creek running right under the porch every time it rains, Stanley surmised.
The porch might not be the only thing that falls over, Stanley thought while he removed the notebook and pencil from his tool belt and made a few notes before searching for the back door.
The back yard had hardly any bushes or trees growing nearby. He stopped for a moment and noticed a large irregular patch of baldness amongst in the middle of the other wise grassy hearth.
Stanley walked a step or two towards it before remembering Shane’s story and felt his body temperature drop.
He wanted to make the sign of the cross but he felt awkward about it so didn’t. He turned back to the house and saw the modest set of stone steps that led up to the heavy oak door. So far the walls didn’t have any cracks and the door out front and here were shut and didn’t appear to be warped.
Once he got a closer look he’d be able to tell for sure if this grand mansion was salvageable, so far Stanley was giving it a fifty fifty chance. The door was solid and didn’t budge even after he pounded it and gave it a few swift kicks. He nodded and used the keys which unlocked the door easily.
He closed the door behind him as he looked upon the kitchen, which was larger than some peoples houses back home in his opinion. The floor had been not wood but a tile of some sort
once upon a time. That however had broken down into dust and was a floor made of dust and dirt now. The stove was a gargantuan monstrosity of iron and coal black dust which covered most of the kitchens walls like a coat of paint.
31
There was no door to the next room only a doorway that looked into gloom. Though the windows were closed they still let in enough outside light between the weather warped shutters. He crossed the doorway and entered the large empty parlor, and heard a sound that was familiar.
...drip...
He stood still in the gloomy light of a March morning listening for the sound.
...drip...
It was water dripping into a body of more water. Rain gutters?
“I didn’t hear it outside.” he said to the gloom.
Indoor water closet? Surely, Shaw would have mentioned such a novelty. Such repairs were beyond most mens expertise though, and he’d hope Shaw would understand that if indeed there was such a contraption here.
...drip...
From where he stood he could see light coming in from above through sporadic holes in the ceiling. The gloom was over bearing so Stanley walked further inside towards the greater patches of daylight coming from above. The floor in the parlor was solid marble that was not too slick to walk on though it had high shine to it some areas still. The floor was a mess of leaves and ancient scat in the corner, but nothing had nested here in a long while.
The walls inside looked more solid and cleaner than their outdoor counterpart, Stanley wondered again if the house wasn’t beyond saving. At the far end of the room was another doorway that led to a vestibule. He crept towards it with slow steps not thinking, only walking through the doorway and took a quick breath before looking up. He saw three dozen feet above him the chandelier that the generals wife hung herself from and nothing more.
He laughed at himself and looked to the left of the door leading to the front yard where a wide staircase that was flush to the wall sat leading up to the second floor landing. Which was fifteen feet below the chandelier, looking up Stanley laughed at himself again.
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“No, she couldn’t have hung herself. She couldn’t get up there alone without a ladder.”
...drip...
Stanley gasped a little when he heard the drip, and felt sweaty again like it was August and not March. He took a deep breath and felt easy again. The light was brighter on the second floor so he followed the steps. The drip was louder for a moment but he’d forgotten the sound again as he looked about the second floor.
It was drafty and had signs of having birds nest there but the nests were white and dusty with age. The top floor was divided into a trio of rooms, possibly bedrooms, though he’d not seen a bed nor any other type of furniture so far. The air on the second floor was danker and fouler smelling despite the open windows.
Stanley expected to find mold in every corner but found none. The holes on the floor were big and had weakened the floor considerably. Stanley walked towards the largest hole that was near the back wall of the middle room when he heard a loud crack and a shudder under his foot and softly but quickly walked backwards.
As he turned away from the hole in the floor he looked towards the doorway to the next room and gazed upon a mask. Not a mask of paper mache but a mask of flesh with eyes and mouth cut out of the face with something sharp, he could see the next room clearly through the holes. The hair surrounding the mask was long and bloody and the fleshy mask was scowling, in his head he heard the girls voice again.
“no, daddy stop...”
Stanley fell back to the floor and walloped his head. He blinked and rubbed the back of his head and looked back but saw no bloody mask scowling at him. His heart thundered as he stood again and felt relief hit him when he saw that on the wall beside the doorway was a dusty mirror that was partially reflecting his face. Though the mask he saw was clear enough to see the jags of the cuts his mind grasped at the mirror excuse readily.
He rubbed his head again and felt a slight lump under his hair but his hand came away with out blood. Before leaving the room, he gave the mirror a quick look and headed back downstairs.
The parlor had only a couch facing a fireplace without a mantle and a life size white stone statute of the Greek goddess Persephone standing far behind the couch.
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She stood on long legs wearing a robe with hair in thick curls under a hood, she appeared to be looking down. One hand was at her side while the other held a rose. The statue itself was nearly flawless, the eyes however had been painted over in black.
...drip...
He felt a chill dance down his spine as he wrote furiously in his note book: ‘must find drip first and foremost!’ he wrote with a sneer. He was working himself up and he hadn’t even gotten started on the heavy lifting yet.
“Stop getting so excited. It’s just so much is happening and you’re ready to call it quits. You need some fresh air.”
He went out to the back yard and felt better already. The air was sweeter out here and though the sun was not out it was still much brighter than that damp mansion which might need to be condemned.
Those things would happen eventually to any place with out constant upkeep. He spent every minute of daylight looking over as much of the home as he could, taking notes upon notes about every piece of damage nature and time had wrought upon the home. By the time the sun touched the western horizon Stanley had the flue in the living room fire place open.
On the far side of the house was some logs of wood but they were rotted and beyond burning, fortunately he had a hatchet and some heavy blankets. So far the chill in the air was tolerable but he found the idea of being in a house with no fire too barbaric and went in search of a short tree to fell. He had found plenty of wood that would burn slow and by the time the sun was gone, Stanley had a cozy fire going.
Though the fire made him feel cheery at first, the cold and the dark surrounded him still. It felt like the fire was merely making him more vulnerable to the shadows than protecting him. He ate tack for an evening meal as he listened to the silence around him.
He had planned on sleeping on the floor but that was too cold so he pulled the couch closer to the fire place and made that his bed. He checked his pocket watch hoping the hour was late but
was shocked to find it was only a little past six o’clock. If he tried to sleep now he’d be up long before dawn and a lantern wouldn’t be enough light to work by.
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He hadn’t brought anything to read and just watched the flames and the burning of the logs to count the hours, and the sound of drips to count the seconds.
...drip...drip...
At some point in time he’d fallen asleep on the couch as the sounds of dripping became non existent. In his slumber he murmured as above his head the footsteps of nobody scraped the floor filling his subconscious dreams. He’s running slowly down a dark hallway that would have matched this great manor perfectly.
The floor is stone hard and its white walled hallway is peeling paint and speckled with spores of black mold so thick he can taste it on his lips and can feel it growing its poisonous spores in his body because he is breathing so heavily though he is barely moving. He hears it gaining as he hears her voice again.
‘no daddy, stop!’
Then there’s the parlor, he is sleeping on the couch still but he is standing just a few feet away watching himself sleep. He hears a sound from the vestibule and looks towards it but sees only darkness. He looks back at the couch but he’s no longer there.
“I woke up.”
He hears the sound again, not a dripping sound this time. It is a creaking sound followed by hissing raspy sound.
....eek...sis...eek...sis...
Stanley envisioned a rope creaking over a piece or wood. The sound was coming from the vestibule, now that he was awake he could see what it was. He didn’t take a lantern but he could find his way to the vestibule, the house would show him the way.
He knew he was getting closer by the sound, each step the creaking and hiss like sound grew more pronounced. When he reached the door way a murky light was shining into the vestibule as if a lighthouse with a dirty lens was just next door. Stanley looked up to the chandelier and saw a figure hanging high up beside the heavy iron candelabrum.
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The figure was a woman, her arms and legs were stiff and her face was obscured by her brown hair. Suddenly she began to shake and gasp and retch, her arms and legs convulsed. Her hands dug at her throat and though she was slowly strangling he could her hear cries.
“Heeeeeeelp......burnssssssss......” she said in a choked whisper as it reached down to him with an out stretched hand.
Stanley shook frightfully as his eyes over spilled with tears.
“Why don’t you help meeeeee....” it pleaded in a charred tone of voice with its hand shaking at Stanley.
Stanley’s face was soaked with tears as the thing begged for help. Stanley could feel the creatures pain turn to a slowly building anger.
“Why don’t you help...” its body froze suddenly and a sound, like a giant with pneumonia taking a deep watery breath, filled the vestibule.
The woman screamed and was suddenly hanging right above Stanley nose to nose. Her scream was wordless and stunk like carrion and her eyes were just sparkling pits of obsidian. Her hands were frigid as her worm like fingers wrapped around his neck like constricting snakes, her hair, brown and knotty, floated around her head like a dirty cloud.
As she screamed, blood and black chunks bile flowed from her mouth and nose in a torrent and to his own horror Stanley had an urge to kiss her vile abhorrent mouth. He wanted to stick his tongue in her putrid gummy mouth and then fuck her face until his genitals exploded. He woke up laying on the couch screaming as he swung at the mouth that was no longer there.
He fell to the floor as the last embers of the fire were winking out and the night was not yet at its mid point. Stanley could feel his heart in the back of his throat beating and filling his mouth with a bitter taste. He stood up in the near pitch black and took a match to the lantern as held it high as he looked around.
He saw the statue and did a double take. The statute was facing the couch only partly, he could have sworn it was facing the back of the couch fully. Did it move, had someone moved it while he slept? And if so, why?
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“No it was always facing that way. What would be the point to such a herculean task?”
He asked himself rhetorically, feeling fairly certain it had always been facing that way, something so big couldn’t have moved with out sound. Bad dreams or not, he was certain of that.
He went to the vestibule, not to look for the generals wife, but to set his own mind at ease. He entered and looked up, but it was to dark to see even the chandelier.
He thought of going up the steps but he’s still wouldn’t be able to see that high even with the lantern and he would be better off sleeping. He returned to the couch and sat still for a moment.
He threw a nice sized log on the embers and watched the flames grow as they slowly ate at the wood.
“You need to settle down. You’re gonna get sent to the booby hatch.”
He felt his head get woozy as he thought he heard a childish titter and just chalked it up to a owl.
He took a deep breath and felt his body shudder when he heard the dripping again. Stanley had laid back down after throwing another hunk of log into the flames.
He tried to close his eyes but a mosquito kept buzzing his ear when ever he was about to doze.
Whenever he felt sleep close the darkness behind his eyelids would scare him awake. A shape very much like a face with jagged holes for eyes and a mouth, or a pallid face that would gurgle vile liquid as it screamed silently to him in the dark.
When he woke again he was whimpering from a dream about footsteps and felt his breath catch when he saw it was morning and no creature was walking towards him in the darkness. Stanley felt like he had spent the whole night drinking with the boys and was still three sheets to the wind despite getting sleep. His stomach recoiled at the thought of eating so he got to work as quickly as he could and put the nights bad dreams behind him, but every so often he’d hear that drip and he’d feel like he’d swallowed a blizzard.
He tried to keep his mind off the sounds and those horrible faces he kept imagining. He had gotten so caught up in his work every noise that he heard made his heart jump. When a nearby falcon shrieked, Stanley screamed then laughed so hard and uncontrollably he began to weep.
After a moment he regained his composure and laughed a real laugh at himself. It was his mood working on him was all, and the fact that the fog was still thick and the cold still heavy. If there had been just a little sunshine perhaps he wouldn’t be so jumpy.
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“Well of course. Place is too god damn gloomy for this time of year, Shaw said it was a summer place.”
He felt a little better talking out loud to himself, he even felt joy at calling his boss simply Shaw feeling a sudden deep sympathy for Shane and the horse trader in town. The place had a desolate feel like a plague had come through here and this was all that remained of man. The fact he had neglected to bring a book, even a Bible to help him pass the time didn’t help this solitude he was not ready for.
He almost had brought one but was afraid of looking like some silly country bumpkin to these city folks, carrying his Bible like a lost child. He would just have to pass his off hours thinking of his lovely Dawn Anna. And for the first time that day he smiled a smile that touched his eyes.
Thinking some lovely thoughts, and a few risqué ones about his beloved helped keep his work in a smooth rhythm.
He cleared out the front yard of vegetation and removed a majority of the porch while he recalled his last kiss from her. He fixed the lock to the front door while he recalled the time they went to a barn dance and later after too much apple cider she had let him fondle her bosoms. But even has he replayed those memories, every time he checked his watch and saw that hour hand creep closer and closer to darkness he felt like he had been caught in a big downpour of frozen rain.
He worked diligently until every muscle hurt and he was running on pride and reminded himself tonight was the last night and then he’d be gone. And then he would get his contract get the first train home and kiss Dawn Anna and then they’d meet up with father and her folks and celebrate with a big steak dinner, his treat. Yes, in less than twenty four hours he’d be back with his family again.
And the next time he’d come here he’d have a team with him, that would certainly make the island more tolerable. The fog that surrounded the island was as thick as yesterday, Stanley had taken a quick stroll to the dock and felt a cold breeze slap him in the face. As far as he could tell he was out in an empty white void, he couldn’t even hear the gulls.
Just another half a day, he reminded himself when his watch showed it was 5 o’clock. He looked to the sky and seeing its smoky cloudy void made his heart feel like it had been struck with a
frozen blade. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath and said a short weak sounding prayer.
By six the sun was gone and the sky had gone black, Stanley had the fire roaring with plenty of wood to spare. The dark was robbed of much of its mystery with the flickering of these great 38
flames. A yawn as big as the flames erupted from his mouth, his plan had been to work himself ragged in hopes of being too tired to have nightmares. He’s heard that from an old chum when he was a lad and it sounded logical enough to his young mind.
He felt like it had some kind of affect on him, whenever he heard the dripping again it seemed less important. Something that was not such a scary thing, though he’d yet to find the source of the sound despite spending over an hour looking. He thought he’d come close to finding it this afternoon.
It was loud, though more drawn out between each drip. Stanley wanted to find the leak before it could dry up or he had to leave. It had sounded like it was on the bottom floor but it seemed to grow louder just the slightest when he was climbing the steps to the second floor. But then the sound had grown distant again once he was on the second floor, and then he went back downstairs and heard it as clear as a bell at the far end of the first floor next to the kitchen.
He’d convinced himself that was not so unusual, the acoustics on such a large place would play havoc on anybody with even half decent ears. The dripping could be in the walls just as easily as in a rain barrel under a gutter. With those large flames and a soft biscuit to nibble on he was sure in that fact.
Another yawn escaped his mouth and a small handsome smile came across his lips as he realized how heavy he’d sleep. A sleep so deep the dead wouldn’t be able to wake him, but that though put a chill in his heart and wiped the smile from his face. His eyelids though remained heavy and were reluctant to stay up.
Stanley tossed his half eaten tack to the fire and laid down on the short couch as he pulled his blanket over his body. The sound of the dripping was just a distant rhythmic patter in his tired brain. The world around him was already growing darker still despite the sizable flames.
“Just let me sleep the night through.”
He said it again as sleep took him over, and the dripping continued....drip....drip....drip. He was dreaming, his eyes were closed. The room was warm and he could feel the red light of the flames
try to burn his mind and melt his eye lids so that he could never open his eyes again, but even deep into the dream a sound broke into his brain.
A squeal, a squeal so deep and loud it was the same sound a tombstone would make if the dead had to push one off themselves. A squeal so piercing it hurt Stanley’s heart and teeth more than his ears
39
as it moved. He herd it more clearly but had yet to open his eyes, still convinced he was dreaming.
SQUEAAAAAAAL!
Stanley sat up, it was dark in the parlor. The fire was nearly dead, just beside the couch was the lantern sitting conveniently within reach. He scratched a match and lit it, but the wick was short and made a piddling light. He held the light aloft behind the couch and towards the fireplace.
SQUEAAAAAAAL!
He gasped and held the lantern higher, and stood by the couch. It sounded like it had come from the vestibule but...SQUEAAAAAAAL!
That was directly behind him, he swung the lantern around but the room save himself and the couch was empty. He turned quickly back around and found himself looking up into the downward face of Persephone and her blacked out eyes, eyes that were alive and seeing him and and he screamed. He screamed himself awake, with his head under the large heavy blankets feeling like he was being smothered under them.
He screamed as he kicked off the comforter and found himself standing again, looking back behind the couch. The flames were still high enough to see Persephone still in the same position far away, with her eyes forever blackened by some vandal. Stanley walked over to the statue without looking directly into its black eyes to see if it could move.
But he could not, though he was a very strong man the statue hardly budged. His heart was whopping his chest like a he’d run a race though obviously he had been dreaming again. He checked his watch and was shocked to find it was just half past nine, when he’d felt like he’d slept at least ten hours.
Stanley threw a log into the fireplace thought for a moment and added another into its hot, roaring maw. He’ slept maybe an hour and a half tops and now he felt wide awake, and he
couldn’t find the courage to close his eyes to sleep. He did eventually though and it came quicker than he’d hoped, it was even restful for a while, then after sometime he heard knocking on a window.
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It was more like a clicking tap than an knock, Stanley’s sleepy mind realized. Shane was probably trying not to knock so loud since it was the middle of the night. He opened his eyes suddenly, and wondered how Shane got here so fast.
Stanley sat up and saw it was almost mid day but knew Shane hadn’t left without him. He was at one of the windows because the front door was inaccessible and the he had locked the back door once the sun set.
....clickclickclick.......clickclickclick...
“Hold on, Shane. I’ll let you in and we can go!”
All the shutters were open so Stanley had only to glimpse in each one to find Shane and go home. But each window showed only empty dank white light, he had checked over a dozen windows but hadn’t found him yet. He was still knocking politely and calmly at one of these numerous windows, Stanley thought excitedly.
....clickclickclick.......clickclickclick...
But with each window not showing Shane behind it, he began to panic though the brisk knock didn’t slow or stop. Before long dark had come and though Stanley had run numerous circles through the whole first floor looking, he’d found him finally.
....clickclickclick.......clickclickclick...
He knew found him because the curtains on this particular window were closed and all the others had been open. When he opened the curtains his hope turned to the deepest depths of terror, as he screamed at the floating head of the black woman wearing the golden kerchief.
The knocking hadn’t been Shane tapping the glass with his long nailed finger tips, but the chattering teeth of the voodoo priestess clinking against the window panes like a beaver gnawing on wood. Her eyes were wide and regarded him with nothing but a white glazed glare, his eyes looked down at the dripping gristle and muscle hanging from the remnants of her neck like a
runny nose. Her mouth chattered like she was freezing, her teeth on the glass was hurting his ears.
“No, no, no, no!” Stanley said running backwards and falling over the couch in a panic.
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He’d woken up falling off the couch realizing he’d fallen asleep again, he was sweating under his blanket. He sat up and felt a shame so deep he couldn’t think for a moment. Then he heard the dripping again, it was louder than ever. The flames were low but he had no desire to build the fire back up, not yet anyway.
...drip...drip...drip...
“God damn." he said tearfully from exhaustion.
He checked his pocket watch and saw it was just after midnight. And had the perverse sense of comfort come over him, it was Monday. He’d made it this far, dawn would surely follow.
...drip...drip...drip...
He could hear the dripping as clearly as ever. If he weren’t going to sleep, perhaps he could find the leak. He lit the lantern but before blowing the match out he put it to his arm.
“Ow.” he whispered fiercely.
You weren’t supposed to feel pain in a dream, and he wanted to make sure he was awake before he went venturing off into the dark. He surmised it was all just a lot of bad dreams resulting from being stuck on island all alone in this unfamiliar city. If he were awake then logically he had nothing to fear.
The idea had as much logic as the working yourself into exhaustion prevents nightmares idea but he was awake with a light and that had to mean he’d be alright. So with lantern in hand he stood quietly to listen for a moment. The drip was loud and clear, but it was distant.
He moved to the vestibule, without looking up at the chandelier, just listening quietly. Another drip with a little more definition to the sound. Stanley held the lantern firmly by his side and climbed the steps.
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He was standing on the landing to the second floor and the sounds were very close. He approached the door that led to the three rooms and paused for a moment, thinking he’d heard a muffled cry. He shook the nonsense from his head and listened.
...drip...drip...noooo...drip...daddy...drip...
He laughed a crazy chuckle, saying no that he was listening too closely and made up those sounds in his head. The knob felt like ice to his hot hand, and though his palm and fingers were glistening with sweat the knob turned easily in his hand. The door opened slowly with the slightest creak as the dripping sound was loud enough for him to feel it in his ear drums.
And though before this room had been empty and without light, a couch similar to the one he currently slept on, sat a dozen feet away from him facing the wall. When he stepped in, his foot went ankle deep into a puddle of water, which felt thick and warm despite the chill of March and the frost in the air. Out of sight in front of the couch was a flickering candle light, the air was hot and heavy, as if a violent thunder storm was about to break.
He slowly sloshed forward ignoring the warm liquid soaking his feet. As he slowly moved closer to the couch facing away from him the dripping continued. When he stopped to listen and heard the drip he saw the ripple on the dark liquid originated from whatever was on the couch. With a twitchy sensation in his gut and a mouth too dry to swallow he leaned over to look at what lay there.
And as he saw what was on the couch he realized what he had been sloshing through was not water but blood. Blood, fresh and warm, enough blood to fill the bodies of ten men, coming out of her wrists, trickling like Hollander’s creek. He saw her body was only partially clothed, her exposed skin was like old yellowed wax paper that was was translucent. He could see the blood still in the veins of her arm and he wanted to vomit.
She laid on her side with both her arm splayed over the edge still dripping blood though how could one little girl have so much both horrified and fascinated Stanley. Her eyes had gone the color of scummy water and gutter snow though both eyes had a pin point of spectral light and Stanley had the uncontrollable urge to laugh and then just jump out the window. Before he could decide the young girls head turned to him and her dead eyes fixed themselves to his and Stanley knew he would die.
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It screamed, and the word no seemed to stretch and go on and grow higher in pitch. Stanley covered his ears and began to scream as he backed away. The spectral iris’ of her eyes followed him as it rose. Blood from the floor splashed onto her skin giving it a ghastly shade of gory pink.
Her teeth were just black stubs, a sickish goo that bubbled through them as her wails grew higher and higher.
Stanley’s eyes began to tear up from the hellacious wailing and he backed up as this demon shaped like a girl charged at him. He ran backwards and fell through the window landing onto what was once the broken front porch. Though he had removed all of the planks of wood and other materials and landed on soft rain soaked soil, he felt something snap deep in his leg. If the air hadn’t been knocked out of his lungs from the fall he would have screamed until his throat burst.
He moaned breathlessly as he opened his eyes and looked up at the window he’d fallen from. He waited to see if the undead child would appear. Each breath Stanley took was a like taking in air through wet wool, his heart was beating loudly in his ears as his right leg screamed from a fiery pain deep inside.
As he wheezed he watched the window but she did not appear, his breath began to take a normal sound until a hand gripped his wrist. He turned his head and saw a hand from beneath the soft soil gripping him with blue green flesh falling off in gelatinous globs like mint jelly revealing its green skeletal digits. The swamp bones that were its fingers were like bands of iron, suddenly another partially defleshed hand just beside him came out of the ground feeling its surroundings like a predator on the hunt.
The hand found his shirt and began ripping at it leaving trails of its rotting flesh on his bare chest that was cold but the slimy tissue was burning him like fire. He didn’t begin to wail until below and between his legs a head rose through the dirt. He expected the headless Negro woman with the gold kerchief but it was a mans that rose, head, body and all.
The hair on this mans head was once long and black and on the left side of his head was the remnants of crown made of feathers and beads. His face was blue green and his skin looked like wet paper that had dried into bubbles. The man shaped entity was waste deep in the dirt watching Stanley as its hand gripped its own face just below the cheek bone, it smiled then scowled before pulling its hand away.
The sound was like sail being whipped by the wind, Stanley flinched but didn’t close his eyes.
He saw half the skin from its face had been ripped off, its whole mouth and right side just below
the eye was nothing but gray blue muscle that twitched uncontrollably. The smell of its dead runny flesh made Stanley defecate himself profusely. When the half face man began to crawl out 44
of the hole towards him, he finally found the strength to break free from the underground hands and run.
The pain in his right leg flared up with each stride as he tried to figure out where to run, then he saw firelight coming from the other side of the house. The light was bright enough to be from a bonfire, Stanley, not caring he smelled of shit and was bleeding all over suddenly cheered as he realized Shane had finally come. Somehow he’d known to come and that he was in trouble.
“Shane!” he cried running to the backyard too afraid to look back.
His breath was coming out in big white plumes and the air was good and frosty, but Stanley was sweating and still out of breath from his two story tumble and running on a broken leg. The cold air made him struggle for breath as he wanted to cry and scream and shout for Shane all at the same time. When he reached the other side of the house he became still with confusion. A great fire was burning where the irregular bald patch had been, Stanley could smell something like cooked pork in the air.
A row of soldiers dressed like the minutemen of the Revolution stood with their rifles at the ready, across from them were a trio of blind folded men, injuns Shane would have called them, standing before them. Beside the minutemen was a large black stallion spitting white foam out of its large snout, upon the dark steed sat a man wearing a long blue coat and a tricorn hat. He wore a tan vest, and across his chest was a light blue disappearing sash.
“Fire!” the man upon the horse shouted.
A volley rang out so loud Stanley almost collapsed from the shock to his ear drums. The trio of native warriors fell to the ground as the minutemen cheered. One of them walked over and began pissing on them to the delight of everyone else.
“Put’em on the coals, men! May the devil piss on their bones while they roastin in hell for their heathen ways!”
Stanley felt the horror of the sights and sounds around him like a nightmare, but he wasn’t asleep this time. He fell to his knees as began coughing for breath. One of the minutemen in the group heard him and looked over.
“General! Another one a dem savages, lookie, he hackin up his insides.”
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“Then kill him you fuckin numb skull, a bottle of Scotch to the one who brings me his head. Ya hear me?”
They cheered and began the slow process of reloading as he stood there. He was panicked but was smart enough to shout and hold his hands up.
“DON’T SHOOT, DONT SHOOT! I’m an American, I’m white! Don’t shoot!”
He was not very far away and the light of the fire was bright enough for them to see he was white. But they did not see or hear, they just loaded their muzzles with the kind of look you see on a hungry dog. Stanley decided to make a run towards the fire in hopes of cover, he did not want to be shot down like a rabid animal.
The pain was white and bright in his leg but the though of death was far too great, and the fear of never seeing Dawn Anna again was too much.
“The fuckin red is runnin!”
“After ‘im! Hurry up and load yer muskets!” cried another.
Stanley ran as fast as his afflicted leg allowed him as he prayed to Jesus it would not collapse out from under him. He could start to feel the heat from the flames when he heard the word cry out again.
“Fire!”
He didn’t get knocked over by the muzzle loader, he hadn’t even heard the shots go off. He felt like a heavy wind had kicked him down, the pain in his right leg was like the ringing of a large bell whose sound didn’t diminish soon enough. He laid there with his eyes closed for a moment before he realized something was different.
The smell of pork was gone and all was silent, he opened his eyes but no fire was burning and all he could see before him was the irregular shaped bald patch again. He looked back over his shoulder searching for the minutemen. But they too were gone, he struggled to rise but he eventually did.
When he was standing again he looked all around him, the house stood twenty yards away, at this angle he could see only one of its faces. The sky above was midnight black and filled with shadowy clouds, no light came through. Surrounding him and the house on all sides was nothing but pine forest.
He moved in a loose semicircle on his damaged leg and stopped halfway when he saw at a great distance a white figure amongst the trees. A sound died on his lips as the white figure went around the great trees with a grace that was preternatural. It came out of the trees and seemed to be looking off in the distance away from where they stood.
Stanley could see that this was a feminine shape though not a person. It began swirling around a tree in a way the felt intimate to him. Not sexual, but something more raw and not as wonderful as making love.
“Unnatural.” he said in a barely audible whisper.
The figure though heard him, he could see the imitation of a face and body turn towards him when he spoke. Stanley began to hear a high noise, the sound was like a finger dipped in wine rubbing the edge of crystal. The sound was ear splitting and was slowly building as the figure began gliding over towards him, its arms out stretched to give a malevolent embrace.
It was a great distance between them, nearly one hundred yards but the spirit was coming quickly. Its icy cry was growing louder and Stanley could see the white face of the she spectral a face both young and old, lovely and horrible all at the same time. This presence would devour his soul and his body would decay into rot and swamp bones.
Her eyes were but a void, her smile was festooned with many long sharp teeth and her fingers were like the cold and white branches of a birch tree. Her face seemed to grow longer as her cry grew all the while gliding closer to him, Stanley let out a moaning death cry and ran into the forest.
He ran for a few minutes hurting his leg worse and crying great tears of pain. His head and ears were filled with a white noise so loud the cry of the lady in white was drowned out. It was only a moment later when he looked back and saw the floating severed head of the Negro woman watching him, her eyes just whites with pin hole sized pupils. The blood dripped from her neck gristle in loud plops.
He shook his head in negation and began running again, trying to find a way to just hide on the beach until sun up. He was running mostly south until the lady in white came gliding towards 47
him again and he turned so quickly away that he heard another snap in his right leg. He cried out and was sobbing uncontrollably as he went one way and was suddenly greeted by the half faced warrior.
In its hands were the remnant of an eye that it just pulled out of its face like a grape on a vine, and offered to him as it held a knife in the other hand. The cry of the lady in white screamed again as he thrashed his way through the forest away from the ghost of the savage. His voice was raw from his scream and sobs, his face was covered with frozen snot and tears and sweat as his right leg slowed him down more and more.
His nose was stuffed up, he could hear the rough current of the back channel clearly and made his way ever closer though not in the same area. As he saw the slight shimmer of the water far ahead as he heard the cry of the lady in white again and looked back to see her only a few yards behind. For the first time since his tumble out the window, Stanley came as close to running as any man with a broken leg could.
He had been looking back as he ran forward and succeeded in not hitting any of the pine trees, but he was close to the edge on a part of the island where the elevation was much higher than where the steamer had docked. There was an embankment filled with all the rocks and boulders moved from the mansions front and back yard when it was first built, nothing grew there. If he had been facing forward he would have had time to stop.
But his fear was too great and his exhaustion too deep to think straight, he tripped over a rotten log and went head over heels down the steep hill. He had no time to think or to even realize his error, he had come down face first into a large rock that sent him into darkness. He was unconscious as he broke his other leg and half of his ribs including one which punctured a lung.
His body rolled down into a bog that had been there since before the first white man ventured onto this island. His death was not drowning though as his descent sent a cascade of large rocks to tumble down many upon his head killing him before a large boulder landed upon his body sinking him even quicker to the bottom of the bog.
Shane was at the dock by seven instead of eight that morning, he didn’t have a busy schedule today. He’d told Stanley that because the island was a place he didn’t like hang out at, and then afterwards he’d felt bad about just brushing the poor chap off. So he came an hour early and brought breakfast for both of them made by his wife. He’d figured the fellow would be ready by seven and was kind of surprised to see the dock empty.
The fog hadn’t lifted much since Saturday, maybe it was too dank for him to wait on the dock.
So he waited for more than an hour, and Shane decided he was ready to shove off but something 48
kept him tied to the dock. And for the first time ever he stepped foot on the beach of the island.
He waited for a bolt of lightening or a pillar of flame to strike him as he stepped off the dock but of course nothing happened.
He wasn’t going into the forest, he just had the urge to coast the beach if you’ll excuse the pun.
He walked north on the dark brown sand towards a rocky embankment that was clouded by fog.The bottom of the rocky hill was a large bog pond that stunk awful. The sand under his feet became a muddy gray sludge that stuck to his boots like glue.
The sound it made under his feet was a gritty wet sound that hurt his teeth to hear. Shane turned to walk away when he heard rocks start to tumble down from above the boggy pit and hit the sludge with loud plops. He looked up at the top of the foggy embankment and thought he saw a figure standing at the top, but he as he looked closer he figured it was just the soupy air tricking his eyes.
Still he called out, just to make sure, but no one answered, he looked back into the bog and the smelly sight of it made his nostril flare. He stayed only a few minutes longer, only because his schedule really would be tight if he stayed past eight thirty. Shane got back to the dock feeling like he was being watched but ignoring it as best as he could while he untied.
It wasn’t until Hollander’s Island was behind the fog again did Shane feel the sensation of being watched go away. He took a deep breath and began missing his wife all of a sudden, like he’d be lost without her. Shane wondered if maybe the pressure of the city hadn’t gotten to Stanley and he’d found a way off the island, it wasn’t impossible.
But that didn’t feel true to Shane, why did his heart beat uncontrollably when he looked into that bog like it was the devils back yard. He knew what his wife would tell him, that he should know better and his dear mother would say so as well. Shane didn’t know, he just made a sign of the cross and prayed.
by Pete Bertino
This story is copyright protected 2/28/2019 Peter James Bertino author; and may not be reproduced without permission from the author Dedication: for Vinny and Doug
Vinny DeFelice sat up in his bed bathed in sweat, blinking sleepily in his dark bed room. On his dresser the face of his alarm clock showed the time to be just after 3 am in bright red numbers.
Vinny looked at the red numbers seeing them change to red eyes and shivered a little despite the June heat. He laid down again and pulled the covers over his shoulders as he turned away from the red glare of the alarm clock.
The dream was still fresh in his uneasy mind, as it raced through the dream again against his will. In the dream it was mid day, sun shining and birds chirping noisily, he had been standing in the upstairs hallway just outside his bedroom facing his older brothers’ bed room. The door, adorned with a full poster of Kathy Ireland lounging poolside in a white bikini, was closed and he was missing Mitchell when he felt like he was being watched. He turned and just a few feet behind him stood a figure the was just a silhouette of darkness.
It was more of shape than a figure, as nothing was obvious about it other than its head or its top, looked almost like hood on a pull over, if it had legs he did not see them. Vinny asked it what it wanted, but it never spoke and was immobile, but in the dream he felt his flesh crawl and break out in goose pimples. Vinny shook his head and tried to forget the dream.
He had never had such dreams before, though not all of them were unsettling. Some were strange, such as the one he had a few nights ago when he tried to catch a shooting star while sitting on the swings at Marconi Park. It looked similar to the fire balls in Super Mario Bros, but it was neon green instead of red-orange. It streaked across the nighttime South Philly sky in a bright green bolt and began to descend.
Vinny watched wide eyed and jumped off the swing to chase after it, his heart thundering in his chest like a drum, pushing his long sandy brown hair from his face as the fiery green ball was about to land, his arm stretching out to catch it, then he woke up, feeling a deep sadness, as if its touch was a key to something. One dream that was odd but comforting was the one he had about his English teacher Ms. Philyaw.
In the dream she had been tutoring him in his bedroom while wearing just her bra and panties, what was odd, other than the underwear, was that she was tutoring him for Algebra or Geometry.
Vinny couldn’t be sure which, she kept going on about cubes as Vinny tried not to get caught checking her out but her eyes would find his every time as she showed him a flash card of a metallic black cube with yellow brown stripes, making it look like a Gothic present with no bow, then Ms Philyaw would say: ‘When it’s green, it means it’s working.’ he had woken up aroused and confused.
If there was one thing he would miss the most about the 5th grade next school year it would be Ms. Philyaw. Although she looked about as old as his brother, who had turned 20 that April, she admitted to being 33 when a student dared asked though she seemed not care in the least about 55
answering questions like that. Her long auburn curls and peach colored skin made her a popular teacher among the sea of nuns that taught at St Monica’s who were mostly gray, old, and had booming baritone voices compared to Ms Philyaw’s soft voice that grew softer still whenever she read to the class sad stories, like ‘Island Of The Blue Dolphins’ or ‘To Build A Fire’
Vinny felt his heart settle in his chest and his racing mind slow down as he let the nightmare wash away. He had to guess it was puberty, which according to his best friend Doug Caffarella, does all kinds of fucked up shit.
“Maybe I should ask a teacher about it. I can’t ask my mom about all that.” he said to Doug a week ago.
And Doug, who went to public school said to him: ‘Those fuckin penguins all got dry quiffs.
What the fuck they know about puberty when they never took a dick in the face.’ Whatever that meant.
Vinny drifted back to sleep undisturbed by dreams, and woke to a sun soaked bed room hours later. The red digits of the alarm clock were robbed of their sinister eyes in the June sunshine. It was half past nine on a Saturday morning, his mom was humming Barry Manilow’s Mandy while doing her hair getting ready for work in the bathroom that stood between his and Mitchell’s room who was stationed in Germany as a Private in the US Army.
Vinny rolled out of bed, with hair a tangled mess and his slightly chubby cheeks made puffier by sleep. He slouched out of his room and into the bathroom, his mother, a skinny middle aged brown haired woman streaked with strands of gray primped her bangs with a curler, in front of the mirror. She had a face that was both soft and stern, aged with years of heartache and struggles, though Vinny thought her curled bangs made her look younger.
“Good morning, sleepy head.” she said her eyes never leaving the mirror.
“I gotta pee, mom.”
“So go pee.” she said.
“Eww, no mom.”
Her mom laughed and unplugged her curler with a humorous eye roll.
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“Don’t burn yourself on the curler it’s still hot, and lift the lid then close it when you’re done.”
Vinny garbled an OK to his mother as she left the room.
“And I am working a double shift so be home at curfew, no sleeping over at Doug’s tonight.”
“Aw, mom.” Vinny said as he felt the weight of his bladder comfortably reduce.
“Don’t aw, me. We talked about it already, no sleepovers if I work the whole weekend. I want one of us home in case Mitch calls.”
“Stupid...” he muttered.
“Did you say something?” his mother said quickly from her room.
“I said OK, mom.” Vinny said trying not to get grounded.
He loved his mom and he hardly ever fought with her, but if he cracked wise or gave too much lip she’d go upside his head with a flip flop. Though she couldn’t very hard and had done it only once, and that had been Mitchell when he was seventeen and said going to church sucks. She smacked him in the shoulder and he tried not laugh so as not make her angrier, as he was was six inches taller than her and out weighed her by a hundred pounds. Vinny flushed and closed the lid and left the bathroom with a grin on his face from the memory.
“What are you smiling about?” his mom asked.
She sat on the edge of the bed she once shared with her now deceased husband tying her sneakers. Looking tired but still lovely she watched him with a mothers eye.
“Nothin.” he said giving her a smile that shrunk a little.
“Hey, come here.” she said reaching out to him.
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She stood up and was amazed at his height and felt tears try to sting her eyes as she briefly stroked at his hair. His smile didn’t change though and he let her begrudgingly touch his hair.
“I’m know not letting you sleep over tonight bites, kid.” she said wondering if she wasn’t being unfair.
“I know, Mom. It’s cool.”
And he had meant it, he missed his brother too, though talking to him on the phone was sometimes like talking to someone at the other end of a long echoy hall and made good conversation nearly impossible. His mother storked the messy locks of hair back again to see his sweet face better. She always felt pangs of guilt saying no to him for things like sleepovers and staying out until eleven on weekends.
“You know I have the whole weekend off next week and you can spend the night at Doug’s then.
OK?”
Vinny nodded and smiled a little bigger. But his mother could feel something was off, it didn’t seem that way but she felt it nag her just a little.
“Are you OK? Is something bothering you?”
Vinny wondered briefly about telling her about his dreams and how weird they had been. But he didn’t, they were only dreams and the dream about the dark figure would have her praying the rosary all afternoon and going through hysterical fits of crying like when Mitchell told her he joined the Army. And the less said to his mom about dreaming of a teacher in her underwear the better.
“No, I’m fine, Mom.” he said trying not to sound upset, though not being able to spend the night at Doug’s still made him a little angry with her.
The thing Vinny enjoyed most about sleeping over Doug’s on Saturday nights was that they had a cable box with a chip scrambler so they could get all the movie channels for free. Every Saturday night on The Movie Channel was Joe Bob Briggs Drive-In Theater. A hilarious movie critic from Texas who wore a cowboy hat and boots and showed all kinds of kick ass horror
movies, some you’d never see in theaters, complete with drive-in totals like body counts and boob shots.
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Doug’s parent’s were also the coolest adults he had ever meant, they would talk about horror books and rock music, his mom was even a gamer, it was just Final Fantasy on Super Nintendo, but still very cool, and one time during a blizzard they played Dungeons and Dragons by candle light, and Doug’s father was the Dungeon Master who took the role with a comical seriousness.
Wearing a hooded bath robe and stroking an imaginary long beard as he barked out commands at the players.
And whenever one of them argued with him about anything in game his eyes would narrow as he declared with a pointed finger: ‘You dare question the Dungeon Master? By the will of Manos I shall destroy you!’ It was always a blast hanging out there, though Doug’s older brother John was class A jerk off, he didn’t bother them too often when he slept over.
Another thing that made his parents seem beyond cool was that every summer Doug and his family visited Gettysburg and camped out and one summer had taken part in a reenactment of the battle on the 4th of July. Vinny wasn’t big into history, but a week later seeing the pictures they had taken, Doug and his brother dressed as Rebels wielding rifles and their mom, who Vinny thought looked a lot like the blond from Risky Business, dressed as a farmer’s wife leaning on a Civil War era cannon daintily holding a piece of straw in her hands, made him a little sad especially since they always told Vinny he was welcome to tag along.
“And maybe we can talk more about you going with Doug’s family to Gettysburg this summer.”
she said stroking his cheek.
She felt dread at the idea, but she knew at some point, dead father and elder son thousands of mile away or not, she’d have to give Vinny some room. He was twelve now and he’d want to see more than just the gum ridden side walks of South Philly this summer.
“Really?!” Vinny said smiling so wide she was afraid his jaw would pop off its hinges.
“Yes, but it’s not a complete yes. I’ll call his mother and see what’s what and how it might work.” she said emphasizing on the word might.
She knew she would let him go with the Caffarella’s, though they were not Catholic they always welcomed Vinny to their house for dinner without a second thought when she was working double shifts at Pathmark and always sent her a card at Christmas time with a religious theme.
“Thanks, mom.” he said feeling the little bit of anger he felt with her vanish after a big hug.
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Twenty minutes later his mom was off towards Oregon avenue to catch the bus to work at the Whitman plaza. Vinny felt sad sometimes seeing her leave, so sad he felt like he could cry. He couldn’t remember his father very well or even when he died.
He just wasn’t there, and he never knew how to feel about it, he wondered how it would have felt to lose him if he could remember him. He briefly imagined his mom suddenly having a heart attack like the one that killed dad, and Vinny felt the pit of his stomach go ice cold as deep terror seized his heart at the idea. He wiped a lone tear trying to form and sniffed hard, he never wanted to lose his mom and felt sad that Mitch had to go remember dad and lose him, he felt guilty for the anger he felt with her earlier and sniffed again blinking away the tears trying to fall.
Vinny shook the thoughts from his head, ignoring the sadness and the chill covering him and went upstairs to shower, he walked towards the open door of the bathroom looking at Mitch’s door and Ms Ireland who looked hot but not bothered. He felt a chill run down his spine when he flashed back to the dream, as birds chirped merrily in the June morning just like in the dream. He turned quickly but no black shape stood behind him.
He huffed an irritated breath for scaring himself and went to take a shower. Twenty minutes later freshly scrubbed he was down stairs with his long hair brushed back and a clean crisp white T-shirt and jean shorts. He grabbed a blueberry Pop Tart from the cabinet above the stove and the bottle of Sunny D in the fridge and channel surfed in the living room to watch TV while he ate.
The TV was a 40 inch floor model with a grooved wooden housing that was at least as old as he was, the tube inside of it popped audibly whenever it was turned off and on, and the remote was a made of brown plastic and had only five buttons, an up and down for volume control and changing channels and large red button to turn it off and on.
They only had six channels so calling it surfing was a bit of a stretch, more like coasting in a kiddie pool. Three of the six channels would show nothing but cartoons until noon today, another channel was broadcasting a Phillies pregame show and on the PBS was that Clinton dude who was running for president talking about fair trade agreements. He heard his mom talk about him being a draft dodger and had proudly told a neighbor she would vote for Ross Perot.
Vinny turned off the TV and sat on the couch taking another swallow from the bottle as he looked above the TV at the pictures hanging on the wall of his brother, one a portrait of him in his black and orange gown for high school graduation, he was smiling and his eyes shone with joy and humor. Besides that was a different portrait, showing him in camouflage with the American flag behind him, he wasn’t smiling and looked kind of sad in the portrait. Vinny hated that picture, he looked unhappy in that portrait.
Vinny lugged himself off his mom’s scratchy plastic covered pink love seat and put the Sunny D
back in fridge and decided to head outside and go look for Doug. He took the front door key from the hook beside the door with his back facing the living room when the feeling of being watched like in the dream came over him.
His mouth was slimy from the Sunny D he chugged and his skin went clammy as he tried to swallow away that too sweet aftertaste. He turned sure there would be nothing behind him, but for a moment he would swear on a stack of bibles that he saw a pair of green iris’ floating in the air watching him. They looked faint, translucent. Before he could react it was gone.
He felt his heart beating fast again and blinked, watching the empty room but saw nothing. It was the sun, he was sure. The curtains were partly open and some sun was bouncing off the glass coffee table and it got in his eye and made him see spots. Sure, it had to be, you would have seen those spots just like when a cameras flash went off in your face.
But if it was the sun why didn’t his eyes tear up or why didn’t he blink at something as bright as reflected sun light, his mind countered. No, it was the sun and the dreams, over active imagination obviously. But his shoulders felt cold and he left with out thinking about it any further nor looking back.
He locked the front door and came out from under the yellow awning into a high sun that warmed his shoulders and brought immediate relief to his still racing mind and heart. Across the street old man Jerry stood on his porch wearing swim trunks and flip flops glancing over the Inquirer, his shoulder were as hairy as his chest and always made Vinny think of Tolkien’s Dwarfs. He waved and smiled at Vinny, Vinny was grateful he wouldn’t have to have small talk with the neighbors, he like Jerry but he just wanted to walk quietly with his thoughts for a while.
Most of the living room windows on his street had there curtains open, some had the occasional house wife standing behind it with a bottle of Windex in one hand and a paper towel in the other. One or two would wave to him if they were not too distracted by a stubborn spot on the glass. He could smell onions frying from someplace near by and occasionally reached out and touched the tops of the randomly placed four foot high poles that were planted into the sidewalks.
Vinny enjoyed everything he saw and walked on deciding to forgo Doug’s house for a bit and see if he and the gang were already at 19th and Porter so he could soak in the sun and warm air for a little while longer. It wasn’t really a gang just a few guys in the neighborhood that would hang
out on the steps of a defunct Lutheran church. The cops sometimes would make you leave if there was more than five or six around but it wasn’t often, there was not as many people that 61
hung there like the dozens that hung out at 16th and Jackson or 22nd and Ritner. His mom would have flipped her lid if she knew he was hanging out on a corner like a rough neck.
Mitch wouldn’t have liked it either though in Vinny’s own defense he hadn’t started doing it until after Mitch got shipped off to basic training. It wasn’t as horrible as his mom would’ve made it out to be. But it wasn’t a cub scout group either, sometimes there was beer and a few of the guys smoked but Vinny didn’t partake, nor did Doug. The worst thing Doug would do on the corner was talk about sex for hours on end though his knowledge was limited and sounded questionable to Vinny.
Vinny walked straight on Hicks until he reached Porter street and turned west crossing 15th and heading towards 19th. He tried to keep his thoughts away from the pair of eyes he thought he saw. He briefly looked up at the sun and closed his eyes as he crossed 17th street to try and prove to himself is was just the sun as he saw a blue orb behind his lids. A sudden horn honk opened his eyes, a white PGW truck sat waiting, Vinny had almost walked into it as it sat at the stop sign.
“Watch yourself, dumb ass.” the hard hatted man behind the wheel said harshly.
“Thank you, sir.” he said for some reason and laughed loudly realizing what he said as he walked away.
“Fuckin south Philly punk.” the hardhat said driving away.
Vinny laughed again and mostly forgot about the dreams and the eyes and all the weird shit when he saw Doug walking up 18th street. He was shorter than Vinny by an inch or so and was skinny and kept his hair short, he wore a bootleg Bart Simpson T-shirt, which showed Bart giving the middle finger and a speech bubble that said: ‘Kiss My Ass, Man!’
“Yo!” Vinny shouted excitedly as Doug jogged to him.
“Hey man, my mom said I can go with youse guys to Gettysburg.”
“Really? She said yeah?” he said giving Vinny a high five.
“Well not yet, she’s gonna call your mom first, but I know her, she’s gonna let me.”
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“Fuckin a, man! Dude, it’ll be fuckin great.”
They went to the church on 19th and Porter and sat on the sun warmed concrete steps that led up to bright red double doors made of iron on the 19th street side. Doug was talking a mile a minute, about all the stuff he had done in past trips.
“Yo seriously, man. There’s these girls from the south that come up, if your dressed like a yank they won’t say shit to you, but I was dressed like a rebel so they were checkin me out, like really fuckin hard. I talked to this one she let me look up her gown.”
“Really? What did you see?”
“Nothin, she was fuckin wearing these long ass white pants. Bitch looked like MC Hammer.”
“Didn’t she know you weren’t from the south when you started talking?”
“Oh, yeah. She was like y’all a Yankee in the that accent they got. And I was like baby, I seceded.”
“Yeah, right.” Vinny said laughing.
“I’m fuckin serious, dude. Man, we’ll be hip deep in girls. We’ll be drownin in trim.”
It was hard to believe some of Doug’s wilder stories about girls. Whenever one was around he would become unusually quiet and only nod his head if he was asked something by one of them.
They sat with sun on their shoulders talking, across the street a girl was walking along Porter street. She was older than them both by a few years.
She wore denim short shorts and a white T-shirt with Bugs and Daffy dressed in backwards outfits like Kris Kross, a corner of the shirt had been knotted and her midriff was barely visible.
She wore red lip stick and blue eyeshadow. She reached the corner and glared at Vinny and Doug as she crossed, as if waiting for a comment but they said nothing.
“Yo man, you know who that was?” asked Doug after a quick glance to make sure she was too far to hear him.
“No, who.”
“Danielle Debiasi. She goes to Bok High, remember she used to go out with Nicky Silenzio.”
Vinny nodded but could remember for sure.
“Nicky told me she used to fuck herself with frozen hot dogs.”
“Eww, no fuckin way.” Vinny said with feelings of confusion on top of revulsion.
“Yeah, and one broke off in her and she had to go to the hospital cause she had these maggot things in her...”
“Aw, man stop I’m gonna hurl.”
“Hey, man I’m just warning you in case you ever wind up alone with her, Nick said she likes to give blow jobs and is a huge slut.”
“What’s a blow job?”
Doug clicked is tongue in disapproval.
“Man don’t you know anything? We’re gonna be goin after southern chicks this summer and you don’t know nothin about messing with girls.”
“So what is it?”
“It’s when a girl rubs her pussy on your ass until air shoots out.”
“You mean farting?” Vinny asked unbelievingly.
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“No, man out her pussy. It’s how a girl comes, that’s why it’s called a blow job, my brother told me all about it.”
Vinny nodded but didn’t say anything, he wondered if Doug’s brother wasn’t just messing with him. He and Mitch never talked about that kind of stuff, and though Doug bragged a lot neither one of them had ever had a girlfriend or had even kissed a girl. The only girl he had ever wanted to kiss, other than Ms Philyaw, was Megan McKinley, and maybe Paula Abdul though he would never admit it nor say such a thing out loud.
He wondered briefly after wards if thinking of Megan had caused everything to happen the way it did less than an hour later. Riding on a twenty inch silver BMX towards them on the sidewalk of 19th street was fifteen year old Matt Diaponti. He was one of the oldest guys to hang out on the corner and was into heavy metal music.
He wore green cargo pants and a black Motorhead T-shirt and black hi top Nikes, his hair was shoulder length on the top and shaved underneath. A Marlboro smoldered in his lips as he traversed the cracked side walk.
“Yo, Matt!” Doug called out.
Matt looked up from the decaying sidewalk and nodded slightly as he rode over to them. He stopped at the steps and flicked his cigarette after a quick deep drag and exhaled long streams of smoke from his nostrils.
“What’s up, mother fuckers?” he said resting his arms on his handle bars.
“Nothing, man. Did you come round here last night?” Doug asked.
“Nah, went to Cissy Deluca’s house, her parents were at the movie so we fucked around.”
Vinny admired Matts’ reserved attitude about girls, if they did ever come around it was because of Matt. He extruded a cocky demeanor towards them that made him a bitch magnet as Doug had
once put it. He was right too, it wasn’t uncommon to see him with a nice looking girl talking to him or bumming a cigarette from him in a very demure tone.
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“Vinny. You know Sammy Rosen?” Matt asked
Yeah, he did. But not personally, he was a class ahead of Vinny and a complete fucking asshole by all accounts. He would fuck around too much, if Sammy was by himself he seemed OK, usually, but when other people around he would turn the asshole dial up to eleven and ask you mean or fucked up questions such as ‘Does your mom stick tampons up her ass? Come on, man tell me you fuckin fagot.’ One time he saw Sam trip a fourth grader into a big steamy pile of dog shit on a sidewalk during a field trip to the Art Museum.
He’s a douche bag, and to top off all that fucked up shit he did and how mean he was, he managed to have a girlfriend, and of course it was Megan McKinley.
“Kind of. Why?” Vinny said with a stutter in his heart.
“He’s looking for you.” he said lighting another Marlboro.
“Me, why?”
“I saw him a little while ago. He got dumped by that Irish chick, Megan Mick whatever the fuck her last name is, he said it’s your fault.”
“Was he pissed?” Vinny asked as his stomach became a bag of ice.
“Yeah, he asked me where you were I told him to ask his mother.” Matt said nonchalantly.
“You said that to him?” Doug said with a laugh.
“Yeah, I ain’t afraid of that little shit. I’ve fucked girls bigger than him.”
Vinny wish he had Matt’s confidence, though that was easier said than done. Matt was 5 foot ten and was broad shouldered and had a weight set in his basement that he used regularly resulting in well sculpted arms. Vinny on the other hand was 5 foot 2 and slightly pudgy.
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“Oh shit?” Vinny said letting his worry show more than he intended.
Doug was ecstatic and shook Vinny’s shoulder ecstatically as he spoke.
“Dude, you didn’t tell me you were fuckin around with Megan. What the fuck you didn’t tell me.
Dude!”
“What...” Vinny said looking confusedly at Doug. “shut up, man...I didn’t fuck around with anybody, I talked to her some.”
“She gave you her number? That’s cool, man.” Matt said nodding his head.
“No, we talked at school a lot during the last couple of weeks.”
Vinny and Megan had been in the same home room that whole school year though they sat on opposite sides of the class room he knew who she was and secretly had a crush on her when he wasn’t in Ms Philyaw’s class. He wondered if she knew his name as well and felt his heart beat race and his stomach shake at the idea she might. When final exams were given three weeks ago, they were given in the home room only and random seating was assigned which was home room teacher Sister Bogle’s plan to reduce the temptation to cheat for some reason. And lo and behold who should be seated beside him but Megan.
Between exams Sister Bogle said they could turn their desks around and chat if done so quietly, and that was how he found out she knew his name and felt his heart leap high when she said it.
After four days exams were over and the last days of school had begun, and the seating arrangements had more or less gone out the window, but most of that week Megan had always sat close by and would talk to him at random times through out those half days of school.
They hadn’t talked about anything special, just the usual stuff such as video games, Vinny had an NES and was hoping to get the new Super NES for Christmas and Megan shocked him by declaring her love for Sega and Sonic The Hedgehog.
“Sonic, sucks.” he said though he was smiling at her.
“I think he’s cute, besides he faster than Mario and the bosses are tougher.” she said smiling back.
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They had even talked about horror movies. Her favorite was Poltergeist and Halloween, when Vinny mentioned his favorite, The original ‘Night Of The Living Dead’ her eyes went wide and she touched his elbow.
“Uh god I couldn’t finish that movie, me and some friends got the newer one at Blockbuster to watch at a sleep over and I threw up pizza on my pajamas.” she said laughing.
“Aw that ain’t so bad. Remember ‘Stand By Me’ when everyone started puking at that pie eating contest? I barfed popcorn all over my mom’s coffee table.”
He felt scared telling her the story but she didn’t laugh at him and said: “Hey that was a gross scene, it made me feel a little sick the first time I watched it. If we ever go to the movies together we’ll have to lay off the snacks.”
Oh, shit he said to himself standing on the corner as he finished his story. Did she want him to ask her out? She was still with Sammy so maybe she was just joking, but if it was a joke why was Sammy looking for him.
“Dude, don’t worry we got your back, right Matt.” Doug said.
“Fuckin a, man. I’ll make sure it’s a fair fight if it comes down to it.” Matt said with an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
But fair fight or not, the idea of fisticuffs scared Vinny. He had never been in a real fight other than the occasional shoving matches if they played tackle football too roughly at Marconi park another place they frequented if the cops did chase them away. Matt could see Vinny was nervous and reassured him.
“Look, man. I’ll chill here wit youse guys for a while in case he comes around, ya know. So he don’t pull no dirty shit.”
Before Vinny could thank him, a female voice called from across the street to Matt. It was Danielle Debiasi coming back from where ever she went, gone was her glare and what replaced it was a flirtatious smile.
“What?” he called looking back over his shoulder.
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“Can I bum a cigarette?”
“My last one. I gotta go grab a pack down the street if you wanna ride with me I’ll give you one.” he said sounding like he may or may not do it.
“OK.” she said.
“Stand on on the back pegs. I’ll be right back Vinny, don’t worry.”
Although he rode slowly, Danielle looked to be gripping Matt’s shoulders tight though he didn’t seem to notice or didn’t care.
“Shit what if he comes while Matt’s at the store?” Vinny said trying to sound calm but was failing.
“Dude, it’ll be cool. Look, I’ll stand on the top steps and keep an eye out for him. Seriously, dude, don’t be scared.” Doug said and went to the top steps of the derelict church.
It was a ridiculous attempt by Doug to comfort him, and Vinny felt a little angry at him for a moment. But he was trying to help, Vinny reminded himself and felt his fear regain its foot hold on his emotions. Maybe if...
“Hey fagot!” said Sammy Rosen appearing from around the corner opposite where Doug was looking.
He was an inch taller than Vinny and was a weight somewhere between Vinny and Doug’s. He wore white basketball shorts and an over sized gray T-shirt, his face was an ugly sneer that was red with fury. And although this was Philadelphia he wore a Mets baseball cap on his head backwards.
Vinny felt the fear fill his heart and dump it’s iciness into his veins, the last time he felt so scared outside of one of his dreams was when Mitch announced he had joined the army.
“You are not, do you hear me are not...”
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“Mom, it’s too late I took the physical. I’m old enough and...” he said with arms folded at the dinner table.
“Oh, well, so you’re an adult now, so suddenly you know everything and can just walk out the door today...”
“Mom, relax, I leave for basic in thirty days...”
“Oh thirty days well that’s a god damn relief off my friggin mind!” she shouted and slammed her plate on the table.
They argued well into the night, though they quieted some when Vinny went to bed that night, he could still hear his mother’s stifled watery sobs and cried a little himself that night because of it, but also because he was angry at Mitch for hurting her and him too. He knew his brother joining the army was a thing to be proud of but it just made him angry and alone.
He was in Mitch’s room playing Duck Tales on his Nintendo a few days later when he started packing stuff up. Vinny felt the loneliness and anger fill him up again.
“I thought you didn’t leave for a few weeks.” Vinny said in a neutral tone sitting on the edge of the bed while staring through the TV barely feeling the controller in his hands.
“I don’t, I just want to get stuff put away. You want this?” he said holding a Phillies hat with the old ugly dark maroon color.
“No.” he said not turning to face Mitch.
He hated the fact that he had a different realtionship with his older brother than his friends. Most of his friends hated their siblings, younger and older. Doug would probably have a party if his brother John joined the army.
“You know I bet mom would let you move the TV and the Nintendo in your room. That would be pretty cool, huh?” he said tossing the hat on the bed.
Vinny sat silent and still, his back stiff and straight as a poker, Sister Bogle would have been proud of his posture.
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“Vinny, you gonna ignore me until I leave?” he said with a heavy sigh.
Vinny turned to face Mitch and said: “Why do you have to go? Why can’t you just stay at Millie’s and work there?”
He turned back with his shoulders slouched, sorry Sister Bogle, but didn’t continue playing and spoke again: “Why do things have to change, why did you make it change? Mitch, you suck.”
He tried to sound angry, furious, indignant, he wanted Mitch to know he sucked, to shout at him and tell him fuck you, you asshole. But he knew he was being selfish for wanting him to stay and so was his mom. That was when the anger collapsed into a flood of tears. His body shook as he took in haggard breaths.
“Hey, now, come on Vinny Barbarino, turn off the water works.”
That was Mitch’s nickname for him ever since they started watching old episodes of ‘Welcome, Back Kotter’ on WPHL 17 after he got home from school. It was an old show but still pretty funny, that thought made him cry a little harder but only for a few seconds. The weight of his brother on the bed and rubbing his back comforted him.
“Vinny I can’t go scooping ice cream at the corner market all my life. And I don’t wanna be a bum on the corner, I need more outta life. I kinda know what you’re going through, ya know.”
Mitch said messing up Vinny’s hair with his hand.
“Yeah, right.” he said quietly as he pulled gently from his brothers attempt to mess up his hair.
“I do. I was a little younger than you when dad died ya know.”
Vinny looked up at his brother who just nodded slightly.
“He used to take us to Phillies games sometimes.”
“Really?” he said wiping tears from his face.
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“Yeah, usually on a Sunday it was just me and him at first but he started bringing you before his heart attack. We’d take the subway back and go to Pop’s for water ice an chill on that bench they got out front if it wasn’t too crowded and talk about how bad the Phillies got beat.”
“That sounds cool.” Vinny said and they both smiled a sad smile.
“That’ll be the thing I miss most about him, Vinny. And look on the bright side, I’ll be back in a few months before I get an assignment.”
“What if a war happens. You could be killed.”
“Nah, the war in Iraq didn’t even last a week. Unless there’s a huge terror attack I’ll probably wind up in Germany after my training.”
“So I guess I’m the man of the house now, huh?”
Vinny said it as a joke but Mitch surprised him by agreeing.
“Yeah,” he said turning Vinny towards him. “that means you gotta be like a rock for mom, Vinny Barbarino. You know how upset she still is about all this, so you gotta be there for her. If she needs you to take out the garbage or wash the dishes, or fold the laundry, I want you to do it before she even has to ask. OK?”
“Ugh, great now that you’re in the army I gotta take out the trash.”
“Yeah well by next month I’ll be doin more before nine am than you’ll do in a week!”
He shouted as he said the last part and put Vinny in a head lock and used his free hand to mess with his hair. Vinny screamed but was laughing too, it helped him to ignore the deep lonely fear still living inside of him.
That all flashed before his mind as Sammy approached Vinny with his arms at his side and hands balled into fists. Sam walked closer to him until they were just inches apart. Vinny could feel the heat of his breath and recoiled a little as his bowels went tight and his stomach vibrated.
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“You fuckin makin moves on my fuckin girl?” he said with a head wave that was meant to look tough.
“Yo, Sam I heard she fuckin dumped you.” Doug said still on the top step.
“Fuck you, Doug. Yo, answer me. Why you goin after my fuckin girl?”
Vinny felt his stomach and intestines doin the dosey doe inside him. He didn’t want to look anymore afraid than he already did so he answered trying to sound calm and reasonable.
“I wasn’t. We just talked at school.”
Calm and collected, but it seemed to send Sammy into a rage, he stepped back and took the hat off his head with both hands and crushed it before putting it back on his head, where is sat awkwardly until he pulled it firmly down. He stepped forward again, Vinny clenched his jaw waiting for a punch, but he only pointed a finger at Vinny as if holding a pistol.
“You’re a fucking liar!” he shouted.
He yelled louder still pointing that finger at Vinny like a gun, he cursed and stuttered insults about Megan then him and his weight, and finally his brother.
“You’re a fat fuckin loser, and you’re a pussy just like your brother, Mitch!” he screamed.
Vinny had stared Sammy in eyes as he spoke holding his breath and waited for Sammy to swing.
Instead Sammy pushed him roughly in the shoulder as he called him a fagot for the umpteenth time. Sammy wasn’t an Italian and had hazel eyes that were closer to a gray color, but as Vinny stared they looked like they had been changing.
When he shoved Vinny again, he saw Sammy’s eyes flash green like the ones he saw in his living room, much brighter and more there than earlier in the morning. It frightened Vinny so much he balled his right hand into a fist and swung mightily and stuck Sammy right below the cheek bone. He let out a squawk and fell backwards onto the pavement bruising his rear in the process.
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Sammy looked up at Vinny, his mask of anger knocked off his face and replaced with wide eyes and quivering lips as his hand traced the red shiner slowly growing on his face. He let out a sob as tears began flowing from his eyes, he jumped up from the pavement his hand to his face as if holding a phone to his ear. He ran away down 19th street, crying, probably going home.
Vinny looked up the steps and saw Doug standing there with the same look he had when they found a half torn centerfold of a Playboy model on Broad street last December, nothing but a wide mouth and shock on his eyes at the remaining top of her breasts. Doug jumped from the top step and landed on his feet next to Vinny shouting after him.
“Yeah, you better run you fuckin cry baby!”
“Holy shit, Vin Man, did you just whip his ass?” Matt said pulling up on his bike with Danielle still on the back.
“Did you just punch, Sam.” asked Danielle excitedly as she jumped off the back wheel of the bike.
Vinny could only nod as he was so full of adrenaline he thought he would stutter like a freak.
“Good, he’s an asshole. Thanks for ride, Matt.” she said giving Matt a kiss on the cheek after lighting her cigarette with his Zippo.
“You alright, man? You look pale.” said Matt after watching Danielle walk off.
“Yo, Matt, my brother said she...”
“Your brother’s a dumb ass, Doug.”
“I need to take a piss.” Vinny said and went around the corner to an alley way behind the church next to a house on Porter.
He walked between the chain link fence of the church and the cinder block wall of a houses backyard and looked back to make sure no one could see him and puked up his blueberry pop tart and orange drink. He spit out as much bile and snot as he could and looked at his hand which had delivered the blow. It was red at the knuckles and stung a little when he made a fist but it 74
didn’t hurt as bad as when he first hit Sammy. He took a few deep breaths wiped his lips and checked his shirt and shoes for splatter and came out dry.
He came back still a little shaky but felt much better than he had ten minutes ago. At the corner Matt and Doug were still on the church steps talking. When he approached Matt pulled a bottle of Snapple out of from one of the many pockets of his pants and handed it to Vinny.
“Here man, keep it, get the taste out of your mouth in case Megan stops by.”
“Whatever, man.” he said but smiled and gratefully took the still cold drink with deep gratitude.
“Why’d you get sick?” Doug asked.
“Adrenaline, numb nuts.” Matt said lighting a cigarette and closing his lighter with a wrist flick followed by the metallic snap of the Zippo closing.
“I thought that stuff made you all strong and shit, like Superman.” said Doug.
“It does, but it can make you shit your brains out, sweat like a pig, up chuck.”
“Do you think he’ll come back?” asked Vinny still feeling nervous.
“What so he can let you match the other side of his face.” Doug said with a laugh.
“Yeah, Vin, I really doubt he’ll fuck with you again. You put him in his fuckin place an we all saw it.”
“Yeah, but...” Vinny continued.
“Vin Man, don’t worry. Just chill, besides I gotta split. I told my old man I’d wash the car.”
“Aw, that sucks. Did you get grounded?” Doug asked.
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“Nah, birthday in September and I sucked at school this year so I’m trying to baby his ride so that he thinks I’m responsible and shit and he’ll let me use it once I get my license.”
“Nice, we’ll be rolling the bitches then.” Doug said with a devilish grin.
“Right on, man. Especially this tough mother fucker here.” Matt said giving Vinny a friendly swat on shoulder. “Aight, I’m outtie 5000.”
“Later.” said Doug as Matt rode off.
He looked at Vinny briefly before speaking again.
“Yo man, you sure you’re OK?”
“I think so. You wanna go to the park?”
“Why? Dude, you kicked Sammy’s ass, he won’t come back. Even Matt said so.”
“I know I just can’t sit around, my legs feel like rubber bands or some shit like that. I just wanna walk if off or something.”
“You’re not gonna shit yourself are ya?” Doug asked but wasn’t being serious.
“No.” Vinny said with a laugh.
“Good, cause we’re best friends and all but I don’t wanna get into anybody’s shit ya know.”
“Shut up, dick head.” Vinny said laughing again, feeling the rubber quality of his legs dissipate.
Though Vinny was feeling better, they still made their way slowly to Marconi park. Stopping off at Doug’s house on the way for lunch. Vinny was getting an appetite again but the thought of going home and seeing (imagining) those green eyes again convinced him to talk Doug into going to his house instead. The Caffarella house was empty and quiet.
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“Everybody’s working.” Doug said as he slapped together a ham sandwich in the kitchen.
Vinny’s mind got stuck on those green eyes again, how Sammy’s eyes had flashed like a flame that explodes if exposed to gas fumes. Would he have swung if he hadn’t seen (imagined) it, he wondered.
“Dude, I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but you sure you’re, cool?”
“Yeah, everything just happened so fast I feel like I went on a roller coaster.”
“Dude, I know what you mean. Last summer my mom took me and John to that theme park, Dutch Wonderland, I got on the Gravitron, and my fucking stomach was doin yo yo’s the rest of the day, I puked funnel cake every fuckin where.”
Vinny tried his best to put everything to the back off his mind and managed to eat half a ham on Wonder bread with some mustard. They left his house and crossed Oregon avenue and sat on the edge of Marconi park on the stone lined border. The smell of grass and an unblemished baby blue bird sky melted the worries he felt even further.
The park was huge, spanning two city blocks east to west and north to south. In the southwest corner was a playground for young kids with a squat metal slide, swings and a jungle gym made with multi colored pipes. The southeast side had a baseball baseball field with bleachers lined up besides the fist and third base lines that was filled currently as a pair of softball teams dueled it out in the sun. The northeast side had a few basketball courts that was packed with teenagers swishing shots through hoops netted with metal chains instead of rope.
Vinny and Doug sat on the northwest side where more slides and swings and jungle gyms stood.
The park was lush with the sounds and smells of summer, cars went up and down Broad street in between, dividing the park in half. They sat enjoying the themselves and the summer talking about mostly Gettysburg but sometimes talking about other things.
“Yo man, you know what show I fuckin hate?” said Doug.
“What?”
“Wonder Years.” Doug said with a head shake.
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“Why?”
“That Kevin Arnold, mother fucker. He has all these slutty blond bimbo’s fallin into his fuckin lap. And he’s tryin to fuck that flat skinny bitch Winnie, is he fuckin retarded? That Becky Slater chick looks like she knows what a dick is.”
“Yeah, Winnie seems kinda stuck up, too.”
“Aw, dude Joe Bob is showin Phantasm tonight. My dad said that movie is really messed up.” he said excitedly.
“I wish I had cable.” Vinny said sadly.
“Dude, what if you ask your mom about havin your brother pay. I bet he pulls in a lota of green from Uncle Sam.”
“Maybe.”
Vinny had broached such an idea to his mom a few months ago, and his mother got really angry about it and had almost grounded him for asking such a selfish thing. Oh well, sometimes there was cool stuff on watch on regular rabbit ears. Like Unsolved Mysteries on NBC, it always had the craziest stories. Sometimes it was a gruesome murder or kidnapping, but his favorite episodes were the ones about UFOs, ghosts or Bigfoot. Those were the ones that could be scarier than any drive in horror movie. And when you saw the original Elliot Ness, Robert Stack step out of the night wearing an over coat and a no nonsense look in his eyes, you knew it was all real.
They sat for a while at the park watching people come and go, mostly women with young children. The occasional small group of high school age boys and girls made their way in the parks center under large oak trees sitting on a bench some smoking cigarettes, one or two discreetly drinking a forty of either Old English or Budweiser if you wanted to save fifty cents.
As they sat talking a half dozen girls of about the same age as Vinny and Doug walked towards them on the sidewalk surrounding the park.
Doug noticed them first and nudged Vinny with his elbow who looked but didn’t say anything.
They were quiet for a moment before Doug spoke.
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“Yo, man they’re lookin at us.” Doug said looking back at them.
Vinny leaned forward and saw them looking directly at them as they slowed down. One with curly brown hair was saying something to another curly haired girl with wide eyes. Vinny could hear one of them laugh. The group noticed they were being watched by them and Vinny could hear one of them shush the other as they walked by a little quicker.
“Yo, man you know them chicks?” Doug whispered to Vinny as they passed.
“No.”
They were just a few feet away when a red headed girl in the group said something quickly to the brown haired girl and suddenly turned to the two of them.
“Hey is your name, Vinny DeFelice?” she said with big eyes.
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
She giggled and said he was cute, though only Doug heard that as she went back to her friends who entered the Rite Aid down the street. Vinny had gotten scared again, wondering if maybe they were friends with Sammy and trying to mess with him.
“Dude, that chick said you were cute, man.”
“She did? What if she knows Sammy?”
“Who gives a shit man.”
“But what they were fuckin with me, what if Sammy’s...”
“What?” asked Doug calmly.
But Vinny didn’t really know what he even meant to say. They told him he was cute to fuck with him about Sammy? What the hell kinda shit you been smokin, Matt might have asked.
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“I don’t know. Nothin I guess.”
They sat on the edge of the park for another hour, the girls hadn’t returned and they saw no one they hung with nearby as a impromptu football game broke out on the sunny hearth behind them.
By dinner time they had made their way back to Doug’s house for dinner. His mom and dad were home by then and invited him to stay, she was making a skillet meal in the kitchen as hid dad sat on the couch watching an old black and white monster movie about a giant spider.
“Yo ma, Vinny’s mom’s supposed to call you about takin him to Gettysburg.” said Doug.
“Is she going to let you go with us this year, Vinny?” she said smiling.
“Maybe. She wants to talk to you about it first.”
“You told her we invited you, didn’t you?” she asked.
“Yeah, but I think she’s nervous. I’ve never been away from South Philly I think since my dad died, and with Mitch bein gone I think that makes it hard for her too.”
“Well I’ll let your mom know you’ll be safe with us. You’re apart our clan, and I’ll watch you like you were my own.”
“Ugh mom, that’s friggin lame.”
Although it might have been lame to Doug, Vinny felt warmth at her words and forgot all the crazy things that had happened so far that day. He really did enjoy hanging with Doug’s parents, Doug was ready to split as soon as the plates were off the table though. The joy of being around his parents made his fight earlier seem like a long ago event from another time period. But when they left, Vinny felt the worry of his punching Sammy cloud over him again.
“What if Sammy tries to do something, like him and his friends jump me. Or he tries to embarrass me.”
“Man, he don’t got enough friends to do that. Who’s that fagot hang out wit? Mikey Castella, Louie Raggitelli, Joey Trikinosis, shit I know Joey Trix, he ain’t an asshole like that and the 80
other guys got beat up by the 2nd Street chicks that go to Girls High last fall. And dude if he tries to embarrass you just knock him on his ass again. I mean you can’t go back and change it.”
Doug said it so matter of factly he felt angry with him again. He still wasn’t sure how he did it to begin with, other than he had been scared (scared green you might say) and swung for the fences. Vinny heaved a heavy sigh and forgot about his anger, Doug was right, whatever happened before couldn’t be changed.
The sky was awash in red and pink colors as they reached the defunct church at 19th and Porter.
Dominic Coppola sat on the bottom steps on the Porter street side that were identical to the 19th street side and led up to another set of red iron doors. He was bobbing his head as he smacked his hands on the tight denim rear end of his girlfriend Mary Piscatelli who stood facing away from him as she checked her eye shadow with a compact mirror. His clamorous singing sounded like an old blues song from the 30‘s or 40‘s.
‘yeah, I got the big shlong, (slap-slap) I gota a dick as big as the day is long (slap-slap-slap)’
“Knock it off, stop showin off in front of your friends.” she said pushing his hands away.
His head peaked out from behind Mary and his eyes opened wide at the sight of Vinny and Doug which redoubled his singing efforts.
‘so Vinny and Doug come walkin along (slap-slap) tripin upon my huge dinga long, as I’m smackin my dick they come cruisin along my shlong (slap-slap-slap)’
“Fuckin jack ass.” she said pulling away from him though she didn’t seem hurt or upset.
“Whatever you know I’m bad ass, but not as bad ass as Vinny the knockout king of 19th and Porter. How the shit are ya my main mother fucker?” he asked jumping up and shaking Vinny’s hand in parody of a politician on too much caffeine.
“How’d you hear about that?” Vinny asked worried though he was chuckling at Dominic’s hyper handshake.
He was the same age as Matt but was much taller and skinnier and didn’t do too bad when it came to girls, but he would be the first to admit he was no bitch magnet like Matt.
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“Shit, I’m a one sixty ninth pussy eater that keeps his ears to the ground.”
“You’re fuckin disgusting.” Mary said trying to light a cigarette with a Bic.
Dominic raised a middle finger at her and said in deep voice: “No pussy eating for you!”
Mary smirked at him and flipped him the bird which made Vinny and Doug burst out in laughter.
“So you mother fuckers are against me too, then no pussy eating for you fucks either!” he said flipping them both off which made them all laugh.
Matt had arrived a little while after sunset, the night had cooled off and the occasional group of teenagers walked by, some said hi or yo when there was a familiar face in the group. A few had even heard about Vinny’s fight and every time somebody mentioned it he felt a heavy ball of acid form in his stomach. Though everyone that did say something agreed Sammy was an asshole and deserved what he got, Vinny still couldn’t help feel slightly afraid.
It was quiet on the corner, they all sat on the Porter street side, Matt on his bike handing his Zippo to Mary as Dominic and he talked about the engine of a Monte Carlo SS while Vinny sat beside them on the church steps. Doug stood farther out from them and was looking away from them all down 19th street.
“Yo,” Doug said and the conversation stopped.
“Sammy’s comin, he’s got somebody with him.”
Vinny was the first to stand, Dominic stood as well, Matt turned his bike heading towards where Doug stood. Vinny felt his stomach fill with fiery butterfly’s as he heard a brisk male voice precede their shadows cast by the orange street lights high above. Vinny saw them turn the
corner and he clenched his fists thinking Sammy would crush his Mets hat before swinging, but his arms were at his sides with both hands stuffed deep into his pockets.
The person next to him was Sammy’s older brother Billy, he glared at everybody quickly before pointing at Vinny.
“Is that him?” he asked Sammy quickly.
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Sammy’s head was low and he hardly looked up from the sidewalk as he nodded his head. Billy shoved Sammy and his head went up and down more visibly, in the light of the arc sodiums Vinny saw a fresh bruise on Sammy’s cheek.
“Say it!” Billy said giving his brother another shove.
His lips quivered again but he looked up as he spoke.
“I’m sorry I called you a... you and your brother pussies.”
He didn’t offer to shake his hand though Vinny doubted he would’ve shook anyway.
“Now go the fuck home, mom wants to talk to you, too.”
Sammy’s shoulders sagged and he put his head back down as he quickly walked away. When he left Billy appeared more at ease.
“Yo, sorry about my brother, man, tell Mitch, Billy said what’s up. We were on the team together at Neumann.” he said.
He offered his hand which Vinny did shake, wondering how sad Sammy would be if Billy were going in the army and laughed. Doug who had been standing beside him the whole time elbowed him in the ribs once Billy left.
“See I fuckin told ya it was all cool.”
“What was all cool?” asked Dominic.
“Aw, this pussy thought Sammy might try some shit.” Doug said though he was smiling as he said it and put a companionable arm around Vinny’s shoulder.
“Hey fuck, Rosen, Vinny. You kicked his ass right?” asked Dominic.
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“I...”
“Right! So go smash your face in his mom’s snatch to celebrate. I’ll hold her legs and you can eat that pussy like chicken chow mein.”
“You’re a fuckin pig.” Mary said with a huff.
“Woman, I got the biggest dick in nine counties! In the world of porn they call me Fuck Richards.”
“That’s a cool porn name. What’s some of your titles?” Matt asked sounding serious.
“My first movie was “‘They Call Me, Mister Fuck’ then there was my most important role in
‘The Man Who Fucked Too Much’”
Matt laughed and asked: “Can you get me a role in one of those movies.”
“You Eddie Vedder lookin mother fucker get enough, save some pussy for the rest of the neighborhood.”
Mary smacked Dominic in the shoulder as he looked all innocent while everyone else laughed.
After a little while Mary had to leave so Dominic walked her home before going home himself.
It was quiet for a few minutes as Matt went to the store down the block for cigarettes. When he came back he had a weird smile on his face when he said to Vinny: “Yo, man your girls lookin for you.”
“What girl?” asked Vinny honestly confused.
When Matt passed he saw Megan McKinley was walking behind him. Further behind her stood a few girls, he recognized the red head and the curly haired girl and realized why they seemed so interested in him.
“Hey, Vinny.” she said smiling.
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She was dressed in white jeans and a white petal pusher blouse with pink flowers. She wore a perfume that was delicate and smelled like candy. Vinny felt his stomach flutter again, it was scary but in a good way he didn’t understand completely. She looked angelic to him even in the dirty orange cast of the street lights.
“Hey, Megan.”
“I’m sorry, I heard Sammy tried to mess with you.”
“It’s cool. He’s a prick, excuse my language.”
Excuse my language? It felt odd saying something like that, but he felt confident in saying it, it was something Mitch would say to a girl. Besides he was right, Sammy was a prick. Vinny’s stomach stopped doing flip flops and felt his shakes subside.
“I know, I justed wanted to say I’m sorry, it’s my fault he came after you. I guess talking to you made me feel good and I told him that and he got pissed off and called me a slut. I got angry back and told him you wouldn’t treat me that way and I dumped him.” she said the last part with her head down.
Vinny could see she felt ashamed, and maybe he should have been a little upset. But that would have been selfish for some reason that he knew but didn’t quite understand. Maybe that’s one of those adult things you try to figure out in movies when people are in love but don’t wind up together in the end. He hated those movies and because of that he reached out and lightly touched her arm.
“It’s OK, I’m not mad.” he said.
“Really?” she asked as she lifted her head and looked at him with a growing smile.
He nodded and felt good about making her feel good.
“Megan come on, we’re gonna miss the movie.” said one of her friends.
She looked back quickly and faced Vinny again, looking nervous.
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“What movie youse guys gonna see?” he said trying not to let the silence become awkward.
“Alien 3.”
“Alien 3, that’s rated R.”
“Yeah thats why my dad is taking us to see it.”
“That’s pretty cool of your dad. My mom only takes me to see baby stuff.”
“Yeah, parents can suck sometimes.”
“Stay away from the pizza though.”
“Shut up.” she said though kindly.
She looked back at her friends again and looked nervous all over again. Vinny wondered if she was trying to leave and felt his confidence slip away until she said:
“Do you have paper on you?”
Vinny was confused by the question, but before he could ask a stupid question Matt rode passed them on his bike handing him a foil wrapper from a stick of Wrigley, before circling back towards Doug. Vinny smiled and handed the wrapper to Megan. She took a pink pen from her pocket and wrote quickly on the paper before handing it to him.
“Call me, OK?” she said looking at him with a lovely shy smile.
Vinny’s voice was stuck so he nodded as well as he could. She stood just a few inches from him but the next thing that happened seemed to go in slow motion as if she were further away. She leaned over to him slightly and put both hands on his shoulders and kissed him squarely on the lips.
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Vinny felt his head swoon and his heart do a triple flip in his chest as he tasted cherry chap stick and felt her soft hands on his shoulders squeeze just the slightest bit when their lips parted. She smiled a little as Vinny tried to keep his grin from looking too idiotic.
“I’ll see ya.” she said before running away to her friends.
“Bye...” he said weakly.
Vinny walked back to Doug and Matt who were ready to lay it on thick.
“This mac daddy mother fucker comin over here like the king of the ho’s.” Matt said with a head shake pretending disgust.
“Yeah,” said Doug getting his in. “sashaying his shit like none the fuck.”
“Sashaying what shit to the who fuck?” asked Matt.
It had been a crazy day and night. Vinny kept taking the gum wrapper from his pocket to see the number, to make sure he didn’t fantasize it all. It was real, her name written in pink cursive followed by her phone number which was bookended by hearts.
“You’re gonna burn a hole in that thing if you keep starin at it. So is she your girl now or what?”
said Matt.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, she might still let you play with her tits.” Matt said with a shrug.
“I don’t think she’d let me do that. I only know her a little.”
“Maybe, but trust me girls can be crazy as guys. We’re all fucked in the head when it comes to screwing.”
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Matt stayed for another twenty minutes just shooting the breeze until a pair of older girls he knew came looking for him to see if he could score them some weed. After teasing them for ten minutes he said yes.
“Later, fellas.” he said as he rode slowly beside the girls taking them to where ever his Saturday night led.
It was only the two of them now and the night was still young but it had grown quiet enough to hear cars driving around blocks from here. They stood on the corner talking when a car pulled up to the corner. It was the Toyota Corolla that Dougs’ parents drove, who were sitting in the front.
“Come on Doug, we gotta go pick up your brother at the hospital.” his dad said.
“Why, what’d he do?”
“He broke his hand playing that fuckin slap tap game with that fat kid Sal...uh Isaac or uh Isuzu... what the fuck is that kids last name, Kath?”
“Isakov.”
“Really?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Come on, Doug. You need a ride Vinny?”
“Yeah, we can drop you off man.” Doug said.
But Vinny felt too light on his feet to just sit in the car. He wanted to walk and talk to the night and howl at the moon. He don’t know why he didn’t accept the ride, only that it would have been wrong to do so.
“No, I’m gonna walk.”
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“Are you sure, honey?” asked Doug’s mom who’s voice was sweet with motherly concern.
“Yeah, I wanna grab a soda maybe and just take my time walkin.”
“You sure you’ll be OK, walkin?” asked Doug’s dad.
“Yes, sir. I walk it sometimes.”
“Aight, man I’ll see you tomorrow.” said Doug getting into the back seat.
Vinny waved and walked to AJ’s Variety at 21st and Porter which was about to close for the night. Vinny quickly scrounged a buck and some change for a Snapple and said good night to the young female cashier who smiled at his politeness. Vinny walked down 21st street heading south. It wasn’t close to ten PM yet so he walked slowly, he saw occasional people on corners on different blocks but his path south was void of people, he had the neighborhood to himself it seemed.
He came to the corner of 21st and Oregon, Oregon avenue was a three lane street almost as big as Broad street and sometimes heavy with cars. Tonight as Vinny sipped on his tea it was quiet and without traffic. For some reason he stood still at the corner not turning towards his home on Hicks street.
He wasn’t anxious to go just yet, he leaned on a tall wood pole for a traffic light looking around still feeling good. He looked at his Snapple bottle and for the first time noticed in the labels back ground, the Boston Tea party was happening. Tiny figures dressed as Indians tossing boxes of tea from a ship into the water. He laughed at never noticing it before as he upended the last of it and dropped the bottle down the sewer at the foot of the curb.
He laughed again and wandered across Oregon avenue and walked onto the sidewalk, a car had yet to pass. He walked towards a chain link fence that was barbed wired on its top. On this block there were no homes, just four city blocks of a place called the Quartermaster Military Depot. He
remembered Mitch and his mom talking about it when it the rest of the installation closed last year.
He recalled his mom telling Mitch he should say a prayer for all the people who lost there jobs and to thank the Lord for what they had. Vinny walked along 21st street remembering how in early spring he and Doug had used a Sharpie and tagged one of the no trespassing signs and had 89
run down this street when a man driving in a big sedan started to honk his horn and angrily shout at them to stop. They ran away laughing like little rough necks chasing after the devil himself.
It was early evening and a mist hung in the air. It wasn’t freezing but their breaths still plumed in white clouds when they exhaled. They had walked along the fence when Doug had bounced himself against it with an overly energetic jump and they both heard a metallic snap. The lower half of the fence where a bolt held the lattice flush popped off.
“Holy shit, man.” Doug said licking his lips as he handled the snapped bolt.
“You think we’ll get in trouble?” Vinny asked thinking he would never be this scared again.
“Nah, they closed this place a year ago, but yo man, we could sneak in there steal some weapons and some grenades an shit.”
“No fuckin way, man. They probably moved all that shit out already, besides the sign says it’s patrolled by dogs.”
“Man, no it ain’t. Not no fuckin more, don’t you know history we won the war and now we get to enjoy the spoils of war. I’ll go in I’ll get us a fuckin tank and we’ll invade New Jersey and conquer South Philly. I’ll turn the Spectrum into a sex dungeon, behind my iron fist I will command a battalion of sluts like that dictator in Korea.”
Vinny had laughed the whole time, maybe because at first he was scared. But Doug’s assuredness at acquiring a tank and becoming a South Philly version of Caligula left him choking with laughter.
“Shh, mother fucker, you tryin to get me shot?” Doug asked.
He looked both ways as if he was trying to cross a busy street, he slowly lifted the lattice and as he stretched a foot forward, Vinny had the uncontrollable urge to start barking.
“WOOF WOOF WOOF!” Vinny shouted in a deep baritone bark.
Doug jumped back three feet and landed on his ass.
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“You fuckin dick head!”
Doug shouted but was laughing too, perhaps it was because the joy of tonight that brought him here, one of the few times since Mitch left that he felt so good he thought he could fly. He figured he’d walk down to the end of the depot before heading back home and maybe watch TV.
The thought of the green eyes though made him wonder if he should just chill out on the porch until mom was home instead.
That made him feel like a baby. He had gotten his first kiss from the cutest girl in his class, hell the whole school, and he was freaking out over something he thought he saw. Suddenly everything went quiet, even the far away drones of vehicles were gone.
Before Vinny could register the silence completely a flash of green exploded to his right at the center of the depot besides a tall clock tower. The light was green, a very familiar green. It was bright but if he hadn’t been looking in that general direction he had a feeling he might have never seen it himself. He felt it was trying to hide its arrival, whatever it was.
He pressed himself against the fence which bent noticeably. The light was distant and its glow was faint, and growing fainter still. That light, it was the same as the light in his living room and the light that flashed in Sammy’s eyes and of his dreams.
He felt fear fill him, and a kind of knowing that the light was supposed to be seen by him. He could reach it, he realized. It wasn’t a dream, it was all real, right in front of him, if he reached that light than he would know...know what?
It was a mystery, a long unsolved one. Suddenly in his mind Robert Stack stepped out of the night and began narrating.
‘ Tonight on Unsolved Mysteries, Vincent DeFelice was walking home one balmy summer evening on top of the world, when a sudden flash of green light accosted his vision. He watched the light flicker and asked himself, was this light the key to everything? Was this the reason he had been drawn to this place, so he could understand all the problems a boy his age has to solve?
Perhaps Vinny will be able to help solve this mystery.’
He felt the fear warring with the idea that the answer was here, though he wasn’t exactly sure of the question he was trying to answer. If he could get to that light then he would know, he was sure. Licking his lips and saying a prayer to Mr Robert Stack, Vinny felt his way until he came to the same section of fence he and Doug had come across.
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He went slow at first, then he realized the light might go out or a cop car may pass along, so he moved a little faster. He couldn’t find it at first and wondered if it had been fixed, but his hand pushed in the chain link farther in than it should have been able to go. He felt his heart beat double and triple as he pulled in out.
He looked around much like Doug had but was not filled with hysterical laughter this time, but filled with a sense of sureness. He went through and crouched walk for a few feet when the green light faded more and he thought, fuck it and ran passed the weird houses and towards the broken clock tower that stood high above. He ran until he was out of sight and surrounded by rows of houses.
All around him he looked, there was only darkness. The houses reminded him of the ones in New Jersey or in the suburbs surrounding the city. Grand domiciles with at least dozen rooms with a couple bathrooms and large fireplace to fill the place with warmth and light. These here though were just large empty bulks of stones and bricks filled with only darkness. Vinny had a feeling if he touched those houses the walls would be ice cold. He looked down the row of houses he stood amongst and wondered how much more haunting this mini ghost town would look under the light of a full moon.
At least no one walking or driving down the street would see him from here. When he regained his breath he ran towards the fading light at the base of the dead clock tower where the green light faded a little more with each passing moment. As he got closer he felt relief that the light wasn’t in the building, just outside.
But as he cam within just a few feet of the clock tower building he saw that what ever had arrived punched through the ground and was inside the building. He stepped over the hole and saw darkness and then a flash of green light that blinded him for a moment. The hole was small and he doubted he could fit through.
A sudden distant siren whooped and Vinny gasped as he turned around ready to be surrounded by soldiers with guns drawn and foaming dogs on a chain leash, he stepped back just a half foot when suddenly the ground under him collapsed and the hole tripled in size as he fell down through. He tried to grab a hold on something but fell onto the concrete floor with a thud seeing stars. He fell just six feet but it felt like sixty to him.
He barked his shin and rubbed it for a half a minute before checking his head for blood or lumps.
No permanent damage, he shook his head and used a chair that was on its side to stand up. He rubbed his head again with his eyes closed and then opened them looking around the mostly dusty but otherwise empty room.
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Just beyond him near the corner was another flash of hyper green light. Vinny approached it slowly trying to understand what he was seeing. He knew from falling the floor was solid concrete, but the thing emitting light was stuck in it as if it were just clay.
It looked like metal and was black with grooves and specks of silver all over it, right where the shoe box sized thing was submerged into the floor was a square protrusion that looked similar to the cube Ms Philyaw showed him in his dream.
‘The green means it’s working.’ she said.
You have to get it out, he hard himself say, you were supposed to see this.
Vinny dropped to his knees in front of it and grabbed the metal box on its sides with both hands but it would not budge. He put his shoulder up against it and pushed it and felt it move before alarm filled him, what if I break it? He stopped and stood up again looking at it, he looked around the room but wasn’t sure what he was trying to find.
He shrugged and grabbed its sides again but his hands were too sweaty for a proper grip. He stood up again and kicked a wall and was showered with plaster. The room was baking hot compared to the cool night above him and he was agitated, he gripped it again but nothing.
“Fuck!” he said.
It was right here, whatever it was. He didn’t care what it was, he just wanted to get it out of here take it home and figure it out. Should he show his mom? No, if movies taught him anything that might not be a good idea.
All he knew for sure was that it was important and that he had to have it. He ran his hands through his hair watching the green fade away wiping the sweat from his forehead. The only other light was a yellow cast coming from the hole above, which was beginning to look brighter than the green.
‘The green means it’s working.’ Ms Philyaw said softly again.
Vinny jumped at the box and wrapped his arms tightly around it in hug like grip and began pulling with a renewed energy, thoughts of green eyes and weird dreams filled his mind. He felt himself slipping and redoubled his hold as he bit down on his lower lip. He could feel the 93
muscles in his back screaming and his knees felt like they were on fire but he ignored it all and pulled.
With a deep breath he felt the box screech as he pulled, his arms slid down but stopped at the protrusion, a forearm rested on it as it began to pull free. He felt his heart do a flip similar to the one when Megan kissed him, when a corner of it came free. He put and arm underneath it and pulled, when he did the object became free.
However, his arm slid over the protrusion and he inadvertently pushed it down and looked at it with awe as it sunk in and blue swirls began to pour out of it, Vinny had the sudden sensation of floating, only this time he really was, almost half a foot in the air. In a panic he threw the box at the wall in front of him and tried to run, but the blue swirls were like arms and they held him as he vanished into thin air.
THE APARTMENT ON SNYDER AVENUE
BY PETE BERTINO
THIS STORY IS COPYRIGHT PROTECTED 3/17/2020 PETER
JAMES BERTINO AUTHOR; AND MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED
WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR.
DEDICATION: TO THOSE THAT CHASE THEIR DREAMS
Alice drove and made it through every green light, and was at the bank by ten that Saturday morning. After a short delay there she went to the 7-11 at Broad and Wolf finding an open spot with ease just a few feet away though she had to feed a parking meter. She picked up a copy of the Daily News, with a screaming headline about the elusive Beltway sniper, a soft pretzel with hot mustard and on impulse, a Halloween themed two dollar scratch ticket that sat amongst two dozen other varieties under a thick Plexiglas case on the counter that drew her eye as soon as she put the paper and pretzel down for the cashier to ring up.
“Can I also get that Frankenstein scratch ticket there?”
“Not a problem.” the cashier said.
The cashier was a blond woman about the same age as Alice, who placed a Newport in her ear as she tore off the ticket. She took the money and paused while making change to turn up the radio.
“Sorry, I love this song.” she said as the female voice on the radio sung about neighbors banging on the bathroom wall.
“That’s cool. Is this techno?” Alice said to the cashier.‘Angie’ was drawn in a graffiti style lettering.
She said handing Alice her change. “I think it’s like techno. This guy I’m friends with on AOL
said it’s called electro pop. I dunno, I just like dancing to it. Ya know?”
“Yeah, I do. Oh, hey I like your name tag.” Alice said to the charier’ whose name, ‘Angie’ was drawn in a graffiti style lettering.
“Thanks. Have a good one!” Angie said.
Alice ate her pretzel in her car with still two minutes on the meter before finally scratching the green little monster face to reveal her number and scratched the five little headstones beside him and got a win all symbol on the second headstone, getting her a hundred dollars. She laughed
aloud and drove off when the ticket was safely in her purse, with the whole weekend ahead of her at her apartment on Snyder avenue. She found an open spot a block away from her apartment on Juniper street and felt the chill of melancholy as she walked passed an empty lot where a night club and a few houses were destroyed by a fire about ten years ago.
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Though she was in high school and didn’t give a fig out local news in those days, she remembered how big of a thing it was on TV and was the only thing the old people in the neighborhood talked about that summer. She unlocked the vestibule door and shook off the damp October chill and her melancholy as she went inside. She was half way up the dozen steps when she saw her neighbors daughter Jenny sitting on the floor in front of their place, apartment B, she was fifteen or there abouts Alice recalled. It was a small building and housed only these two apartments on the second floor above an office that sold car insurance.
Alice had seen her a few times, saying hello and getting one back almost every time, she spoke to her mother as well, she had seen Jenny more often lately but they hadn’t spoken. Both of them were polite and the quietest neighbors you could hope to have in South Philly. She sat cross legged looking more like a middle schooler than high schooler wearing a slightly over sized army camo jacket. Her hair was short and black and though she was a teenager her eyes were dark and made her look much older to Alice. Jenny gave her a quick smile.
“Hi Jenny. You locked out?” she asked with concern.
“No. I’m waiting for someone.”
“Oh, your mom?” she asked climbing the rest of the way up.
“No.”
Jenny’s eyes watched Alice in a way that struck her as, not creepy but, odd. They were watchful.
Desperate, maybe? No, off course not. Jenny might just be stoned, hell Alice had done a few of her own bong hits at that age.
“Oh, okay.” she said thinking Jenny wanted her to move along.
Alice was at her door about to unlock it when Jenny spoke again.
“Hey, Alice.” Jenny said standing up.
“Can I come in? My mom forgot to buy me, um....”
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“Oh, I see.” understanding what she was trying to imply right away. “Come in honey.”
“It’s all under the sink.” Alice said closing the bathroom door for her.
Jenny didn’t really need to use the bathroom, she just needed a way inside, that was first. She approached the sink and turned on the faucet as she looked at herself in the mirror. Alice sat at her kitchen table while the coffee maker percolated, in a small apartment that had very little furniture to give the apartment the illusion of size. But she enjoyed her little place and listening to the crisp autumn wind while reading the back page of the Daily News for the sports was her own little slice of heaven.
She was a veteran of high school softball and a Phillies fan by birth though their season was long over by this point, so she’d cross her fingers for the Eagles next. She wondered if Jenny played sports, she didn’t look to be the athletic type. She could be a trouble maker, hanging out on corners drinking forties and smoking cigarettes. That seemed unlikely to Alice, though she sensed Jenny might be the rebellious type.
And though Alice was taller and heavier with longer reddish brown hair she felt similar to her in a way she couldn’t quiet figure out. It was a silly notion, of course and she shook it away as such. When Jenny exited the bathroom, Alice understood why she thought such a thing. Alice herself had an over sized hunters jacket she’d wear when she was in high school and would wear similarly loose fitting cargo pants when she wasn’t sporting her softball threads.
‘The girl dresses like me!’ she thought merrily.
“So you were waiting for me, Jenny?”
Though her eyes were watchful and somber, she smiled and they lit up just the slightest.
“Well, yeah, but I was waiting for someone else, too.”
“Oh, well you can wait here if you don’t want to be alone.”
“Are you sure?” she asked as her finger tips peaked slightly from her coat sleeves.
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“Yeah, I don’t mind a little company. You want some soda? I’ve got Pepsi in the fridge?”
“Uh, do you mind if I have a cup of coffee?” she asked timidly giving the coffee pot a hopeful glance.
“Sure. Staying up late, studying?” she asked getting up to make them both a cup.
“You could say that.” she said and her eyes looked dark and watchful again.
“I won’t tell your mom I gave you coffee.” Alice said reassuringly guessing that’s why Jenny frowned a little.
Jenny gave a slight nod with a mousy smile.
“How do you take your, Joe?” Alice asked trying to sound playful.
“Black, please.”
“You sure?”
Alice glanced back at Jenny whose eyes were still dark almost foreboding. Alice felt a chill but ignored it as Jenny nodded. The silence was thick but finally broke up from the hiss of a nearby radiator. Alice didn’t like this feeling and blamed herself for the awkwardness and made an attempt to fix it as they sat at the table with their beverages.
“You know I was at the 7-11 on Broad street today, and I saw this cute little scratch ticket and had to buy it. And guess what? I won a hundred dollars.”
Jenny was quiet and nodded slightly as if replaying the story in her head, looking for errors.
She’ll probably ask something, like to see the ticket Alice thought. She asked a question though that had caught her off guard.
“What did you say?” Alice asked thinking she hadn’t heard her correctly.
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“I said, why did you have to buy it?”
The question stuttered her brain for a minute. She had thought it was cute, and now that she thought about it, she suddenly remembered she had read Frankenstein in school, a few times as it was her favorite book in high school. That could have been a factor as well, but the exact reason was lost on her.
“I just though it was cute.” she said with a tight shrug.
Jenny nodded as she sipped again giving Alice a quick glimpse over the rim of the mug. She felt that chill returning to prickle her spine and quashed it quickly.
“So how long will your friend be?”
Alice asked hoping not to sound rude or make as if she were trying to rush her out the door. No, no hot dates for her tonight, she was just looking forward to an evening of soft music, wine and painting abstract landscape art. She put her mug down and looked at Alice and asked a question of her own.
“Does that happen a lot?” Jenny asked holding the mug with both hands.
“Does what happen a lot?” Alice asked feeling slightly perturbed by her random odd questions.
“That urge. A picture jumping out at you, telling you something. Or maybe a feeling about what street drive down to look for a parking space.”
Alice felt chilly and took a sip of her coffee.
“No, not really.” she said.
“Never. How’d you know you’d win then?”
“Jenny, it’s luck. I liked the picture on the ticket because I happened to love the book when I was a kid, winning was just a lucky coincidence.”
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Jenny nodded again but said nothing. Alice felt a little ashamed, she sounded more curt than she intended. Which was odd, her questions were innocent enough. Perhaps more coffee would help your mood, she thought sarcastically as she rose to get more. Alice had her back turned filling her mug when Jenny spoke again.
“Do certain people ever make that feeling happen?” she asked freezing Alice in place.
Jenny continued.
“A feeling that’s bad, like the opposite of how you felt when you saw the scratch ticket. You feel lightheaded, dizzy too, maybe. Like you spent to much time riding the Gravitron at Johnson field when the carnival is in town. You feel like you have to hurl, hoping that’ll make the feeling go away, but you know that’s bullshit because of the smell. A stinky scent that tastes like day old fish boiling in swamp water. But only you could smell it Alice. Didn’t you wonder why you were the only one gagging and choking at the bank?”
Alice turned quickly spilling hot coffee on her hand but not registering the scalding pain. Jenny sat still holding her coffee with her watchful dark eyes. Alice felt her heart beating at a rapid pace that brought a fleeting memory of chasing after a shallow fly ball in the heat of the spring sun when she was still a pimply faced kid. Questions fluttered at her lips, she took a deep breath instead and remained calm despite the creepiness going up a few notches.
“Where you following me today?”
“I was following someone else.”
“Who?” she asked feeling afraid for the first time.
“The guy I’m waiting for, he was standing in the line next to you at the bank.” she said calmly.
“You really don’t remember.”
It wasn’t a question. Alice was about to rebuke Jenny when she had a sudden flash back to earlier. She had gotten delayed at the bank, she could remember that, but not what had delayed 100
her. She thought back further, she had been standing in line, listening to the muzak at the Commerce bank lobby waiting to make a deposit. And then she’d....what happened after that?
“You’re blocking.” Jenny said easily.
“I am not!” she shouted suddenly and felt bad about it right away.
“Jenny...” she said putting her mug on the counter not looking at her dark knowing eyes.
“Why don’t you just think about it a little. I mean, why are you so angry about it? It was real, what you saw, what you smelled. It made your nostrils burn like fire I bet, and they look like us, some of them do anyway. There’s ways to fight them though, but you can leave all that religion bullshit at the door, it doesn’t affect them. They’re strong, really strong but not invincible like Superman, they can be hurt...”
“What are you talking about?” Alice asked as her stomach filled with acid and her pulse quickened.
Jenny had been looking off somewhere, but at Alice’s question she looked her in the eyes and said: ‘Vampires.’ Jenny suddenly got up, making Alice shudder but she went to the window in the living room.
“Look.” she said pointing outside.
Alice tepidly made her way over and looked out the bay window that looked down on Snyder avenue. A line of cars sat parked by the curbs on both sides of the street, Alice was waiting to see a top hatted Gary Oldman or maybe a red eyed Christopher Lee hawking bootleg VHS movies and pretzels at the corner. But there were just a few pedestrians strolling casually, nothing more.
“Jenny...”
“The cab there, it belongs to a vampire. He’s a cab driver.”
Alice looked and saw there was a green and white Quaker City cab sitting directly in front of the apartment building. Its license plate appeared to be legit as far as Alice could see, at this angle 101
she couldn’t tell if the driver was there or not. Alice felt a tickle of fear turn to anger when she realized it wasn’t even noon yet and it was partly sunny.
“It’s day time deary.” Alice said with a long sigh.
“They’re kind of like Stokers’ vampires, look I don’t know all the rules.”
“Uh-huh. Did you ditch a cab? Is that why you’re hiding in the hall?” Alice asked walking away feeling foolish.
“No. Listen god damn it, I didn’t ditch a cab!”
She said it so firmly Alice had to stop and look back at her. She expected a tantrum or for Jenny to start calling her a bitch or a whore. Alice felt some of the fury melt away seeing how her forehead wrinkled as she looked at Alice whose eyes were pleading and fearful. Perhaps she had messed around with an older guy and he was stalking her and she was too embarrassed to admit the truth.
“Jenny, maybe we should call your mom...”
“My mom’s dead Alice, a vampire killed her. That’s who I’m following, it’s the same vampire at the bank. And it knows you noticed him and he’s coming here to kill you I hadn’t planned...”
“Jenny...”
“...most people aren’t psychic like us and can’t see...”
“Jenny, enough!” Alice shouted making her tremble. “This is a sick joke. Do you hear me? Your mother would be appalled...”
A sudden loud knock at the door silenced her. Jenny was stock still, Alice could see the pulse on her neck beating clearly through her skin. Her own heart rate had jumped into the stratosphere for a moment. She was about to speak when Jenny put her finger to her lips.
“Be quiet, he might go away.” Jenny approached whispering.
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“Jenny, stop it,” Alice implored her though she was whispering herself now.
Another loud double knock caused them both to gasp. Alice felt her inside vibrate and had the feeling of nausea again rise up in her again. She took a deep breath and tried to regain herself.
“I’ll pay, I’ll answer the door and...”
“No, no, no...look just, look through the peep hole. If you’re like me you’ll see it in his eyes.
They can hide their scent if they really try but not their eyes.” she whispered, with a manic look on her face.
Alice nodded, she would check the peep hole first, not because she thought a vampire was at the door but because you had to be cautious of thieves in the city, she even kept a bat beside the door for such things. And how did this person get in without a key, she wondered. She walked quietly but purposefully to the door ignoring the flutter in her heart.
She couldn’t deny that she was at least unnerved. More unnerved than that time during high school back in the winter of 94 or 95 she and her boyfriend, Johnny Cafferella broke into the graveyard at 18th and Ritner one night when him and his asshole friends decided to egg a cop car after the cops had chased them off a corner they’d been hanging on. The graveyard there had already scared her and every other kid in the neighborhood, as it was home to a local legend. On the 18th street side near the southwestern corner stands a short headstone with only the name Purdy chiseled across its gray slab, if you were to step over this cursed grave you would supposedly die of fright in your sleep that very night.
The reason as to why Purdy’s grave was cursed varies upon who tells you about it, only the consequences of crossing it remained the same. The only thing other than going to jail that night that made her weep quietly with terror was stepping over that grave. Or any grave for that matter, as she swore she heard cries coming from someplace deeper in the cemetery. Though they escaped capture, she broke up with Johnny not long after that unsettling incident. Today felt like it might rival that night for scariest moment of her life.
She unconsciously kept herself a few inches from the door and leaned over toward the peep hole, her hands plastered to her chest in a defensive posture. She looked through and saw a fish eye view of a man facing the neighbors door, all she could see was the back of his head. Alice felt her internal temperature plummet as she turned to Jenny.
“His back is turned.”
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Jenny’s eyes went big as she dug into one of her coats many pockets and carefully removed a pair of black fingerless gloves festooned with some kind of metal. She laid them out like socks.
“What are you...”
That was as far as Alice got, when her door was kicked open so hard it broke free of the hinges, missing Alice by mere inches thanks to her reluctance to stand close to the door. The thing looked like a human, mostly. It’s eyes had a reddish sparkle to them, his face might of been that of a young man or an old man, but Alice finally remembered the face.
Jenny was right, she had blocked it out. He was beside her at the bank when she noticed the smell and felt dizzy. She made an off hand comment about it and the man gave her such a glare that it made her stomach turn over on itself. His face which was younger than hers scrunched up into wrinkles, many wrinkles, like his face wanted fold into itself becoming an old mans face.
Her stomach had twisted at the thought as his face turned red and his mouth opened wide, wider than any human mouth could open with such teeth and that was when things went dark.
Then in her minds eye everything was bright, she saw fire, with flames so bright and hot your eyes would fry in their sockets if you looked too deep into the inferno. Everything hit her senses at once, she had almost fainted right in the lobby, she tried to apologize hoping the man didn’t think she was referring to him, though she realized now it was him she was smelling. The incident scared her so much she was blocking it, just like Jenny said.
It stared directly at Alice as it walked forward looking like a wolf ready to pounce. It uttered a low hissing growl putting her in mind of a rabid cat. Alice was trying to catch her breath as it quickened its approach on her when Jenny spoke.
“Hey asshole!”
They both looked to Jenny, she had lost the army coat revealing a sleeveless faded black t-shirt with a portrait of Ozzy Osbourne whose eyes were only slightly darker than Jenny’s. Her
muscular arms were up in a fighting pose, on her hands were not gloves but gauntlets with silvery looking spikes on the knuckles. It snarled at her, revealing four long sharp teeth on the roof of its mouth, sitting in double pairs besides the front teeth, a runner of saliva dripped from one of the fangs.
“Come get some!” Jenny said.
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It began to charge with a gut churning scream, before it got close enough Jenny spun around on one foot and lifted the other with a spin so fast Alice heard the laces of her Nike slice through the air like a whip. The spinning kick found the vampire and struck its face with a loud crunch sending the thing into the wall with a horrid cry.
Alice was ready to grab Jenny and run, but Jenny’s eyes sparkled with rage as she began to charge the monster. She unleashed numerous spiked shots to the creatures gut, it’s blood was as red as their own Alice saw filling her with a different kind of fear. Although Jenny was dishing out trouble, this thing was more than human.
It was bleeding from her spiked punches but it was a slow bleed and the thing pushed itself off the wall and swiped at Jenny like it was just slightly out of breath, but she ducked. It swung again while front stepping and caught Jenny in the back of the head sending her to the other side of the living room. Alice heard her cry out in pain as her head hit the hardwood floor with a thud.
Her eyes had clouded over and she looked nearly down for the count. The vampire walked towards Jenny’s semiconscious body slowly, cautiously. Alice realized she could just bolt out of there right then, she turned to look at the door to the hall. But her gaze shifted to beside the door at the umbrella stand which had a pair of umbrellas for rain and a Louisville slugger for just in case sitting in it.
She took a few big steps back without turning and grabbed the bat on her first try, she felt terror trying to seize her. Her mind screaming get out, call the cops, call a priest, call the Eagles defensive line just get the fuck out of here, girl! Her fingers were icy as she wrapped them around the shaft.
With each step she approached her stomach roiled from its horrible odor, she felt vomit try to rise to her throat. She swallowed and instead felt her blood rise, at the sight of this monster preying on a child like a creature in a fairy tale. Though childless herself, she had a feeling similar to that of a mother who sees her child waywardly crossing a street with heavy traffic.
“Hey!” Alice cried.
It turned and took the hit from the Kentucky ash directly in the mouth, the sound if its teeth breaking put her in mind of biting down on a mouthful of hard candy. The ghoulish thing fell to its knees as hunks of bloody gore and broken teeth spewed from its mouth. The vampire rose and began to approach her now and although she knew it had to be able to speak since it was also a cab driver, when it spoke she still felt shock and surprise.
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“I’m gonna rip you to pieces and lick up your blood.” it said in voice that was thick and slurry from its broken blood dripping mouth.
Before it could reach her, Jenny was up again and delivered another spin kick that would have made Jason Statham proud in Alice’s opinion. As the creature fell towards Alice, she swung the bat again hitting it just above its ear making it cry out again.
“I got the body, you get the head.” Jenny shouted as the creature stumbled back the other way.
Jenny lit into it’s chest with more rapid fire punches. Alice swung and missed the vampire and almost hit Jenny in the head. Alice gasped and thought she was going to have a stroke.
“I’m fine!” Jenny said quickly.
Alice got behind the miscreation and took a jump in the air for more force as she brought down the bat in a tomahawk chop directly onto its skull. A sound like a bowling bowl being dropped onto concrete hit her ears as a torrent of blood flowed from a crack on its scalp. Jenny did a fluid sweep of the leg and caused the thing to fall down to the floor, its arms flailed about vigorously despite the massive head injury.
Its pain filled cries were a ghastly shriek in their ears, Alice swung the bat down onto its chests to make it stop but it only continued to scream inhuman screams. Jenny pulled a strange object from her pocket that was a metal similar to what was on her gauntlets. With a one handed finesse that looked other worldly she revealed it to be a butterfly knife. The moment the blade was revealed the freakish thing spoke again.
“Fuckin bitches!” it screamed in a voice that was hotter than the pits of hell.
Its voice and its flailing stopped as soon as Jenny buried the blade deep into its chest right where the heart would be located. She took an audible snort and hocked a large loogie on its broken animal like face.
“That’s for my mom, you fucker.” Jenny said in a weak teary voice.
Alice instantly gave Jenny a hug who went stiff at first but then relented and embraced her back.
They looked down at the body, Alice gasped and hugged Jenny tighter as the youthful caucasian skin of the vampire slowly began to wrinkle and turn the color of dirty mop water. They were 106
holding each other as they took a few steps back while a sound like a faint whisper filled the apartment and the vampires skin went from gray to black, melting into a sewage like smelling black goo inside its bloodied clothes.
Jenny bent down and picked up her silver bladed knife. She cleaned it as well as she could with a piece of the creatures shirt and put it back into her pants pocket.
“They’re allergic to silver, or something about silver is fatal for them. I know they stay away from garlic too, but stabbing them in the heart with silver kills them for sure.”
“You’ve killed one before?” Alice asked.
“My mom. She didn’t believe me, even when she was dying from the bite wound. I saw what got her, it didn’t know I was there. And then later she got up...so I...”
“How long ago did this happen?” Alice asked sparing Jenny from recounting the still fresh hurt.
“August, I didn’t go back to school and been using my mom’s credit cards to pay the rent and took a whole bunch karate classes, self defense courses, and shit like that so I could beat on this mother fucker as hard as I could before I killed him, I spent the rest of the time trying to find it and following it around when I could keep up. But there are others and they cover each others tracks, so it helps to be psychic, my gram was but mom wasn’t.”
Her voice was strong at first, but it had broken as a few tears rolled down her face when she finished talking. Alice hugged her again and felt a sudden urge to love her like her own mother had loved her. And she’d have her whole hearted trust on top of that, they held each other for a while.
Before long they’d move out together, having each others back, acting like they were sisters since they were only apart in age by nine years. A couple of sisters in South Philly from Snyder
avenue traveling the streets and avenues of the cityscape and other places. Standing against the monsters that lived and roamed amongst them, and slaying the parasitic evil.
NEIGHBORS BY PETE BERTINO