Speak Easy 169 : Over the Valley

      Jane didn’t have many friends.  That was okay.  She didn’t really need them.  She was busy enough with her imagination.  It was the only place she could escape her father’s grasp.  She would pretend she was a butterfly flitting from flower to flower without a care in the world instead of the damaged goods she really was.   Still when she met Phillip she hadn’t expected for them to be so much alike. She had been in the meadow behind her house in hot pursuit of a brilliantly blue butterfly when she had first seen him taking a piss on the big oak tree on the edge of the woods.  She had watched transfixed, losing sight of the butterfly in the process.  As far as boys went, he was classically handsome.  Still she had been a bit leery of him.  After all, he was not only a boy but a stranger.  Where had he come from?  She had lived here all her life and had never seen him.  She would have remembered.  Phillip was like no one she had ever seen before, as if he had been dropped here from somewhere else entirely.

      Their eyes had met when he had finished and the heat that instantly warmed her cheeks seemed to warm his as well.  Awkward!    The smirk that quickly followed his initial look of surprise was classic.  In embarrassment, she had run away and his hearty laughter had followed her.  As fate would have it, they met again the next day at school.  He was the new kid, and as soon as their eyes had locked instant recognition had caused her cheeks to grow hot once again in embarrassment.  She had played it cool and continued to draw butterflies on her notebook as he watched her from across the classroom.  When the bell rang, she made a beeline for the door only to have him pursue her and finally catch up outside her locker.

        “Did you like what you saw?” he asked boldly. 

         “You are sick, whatever.  Just leave me alone.” She had begged. 

       It was then he had slammed her locker shut and forced her to look at him.  At that point he hadn’t known the horrors she had endured at her father’s hands, although she believed it was as obvious as the nose on her face.  What she had seen in his deep brown eyes was the offer of friendship and even the recognition of understanding that he couldn’t possibly have had then.    Eventually she learned to trust him and believe he could be the knight in shining armor that would save her from the atrocities she faced nightly at home.  From that day on, they had been inseparable.  Rather than having to confess her secrets, he somehow seemed to instinctively know so she didn’t have to.  He was her friend, her savior, her partner in crime.  From that day forth, they were like two peas in a pod, their fates entwined as destiny ordained. 

      They met daily in the meadow.  They lay on the grass amid the wildflowers and watched the clouds chase lazily across the sky sometimes seeing tigers and other times bears.  They dreamed of escaping the personal hell that awaited each of them at home.   They consoled each other, and as the years passed shared the unthinkable truth and the shame neither of them could ever truly escape.

          The last day she saw him there, he was more tortured than she had ever seen him.  She understood his angst, had went through it herself, but she couldn’t have predicted the way events would finally play out.  He seemed especially agitated that day.  Finally the clouds and gentle warm breezes had lulled him.  He was quiet, brooding, seeming almost a million miles away.   She had blown off his mood, thinking it would pass.  The next day, she had found him there hanging dead from a tree, the evidence of his father’s most recent beating shadowing his skin in horrific detail.  Tears clouded her vision as she watched the police cut him down.   It was that day she chose to escape her private hell and run away.  If only this epiphany had come sooner.  They could have run away together, plucked up courage and sought help.  He would still be here with her.  It was the only thing she regretted, the possibility she could have saved him and in the process saved herself. 

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Daddy Knows Best

          He taught me how to read other people’s eyes.  It has been so useful throughout my life, especially once I perfected the gift.  I was able to discern who was lying and who exactly was being sincere.  Many times I saw things I didn’t want to see like the brutal honesty I would have happily chosen to ignore if only to enjoy mind boggling, curl your toes sex, just a bit longer.  He always knew what was best for me.  Looking through the windows of the soul straight to someone’s heart isn’t always a gift.  Oftentimes over the years it has proven to be a curse.  For example, it is like being able to read Jon so very well just by glimpsing his eyes and knowing he was only there for sex, no more, no less.  My feelings didn’t matter to him, only the earth shattering quickies.  He quickly forgot me and our daughter Megan as soon as Theresa crossed his path.  Obviously she was the real deal, and I simply wasn’t.  Not for him anyways.

             When my heart laid in shatters around me, your quiet strength and unconditional love took me in.   I fell into your arms as I always did and you, being you, comforted me and helped me to forget how much Jon mattered.  You always believed in me.  With no questions asked, you allowed me to move back home and bring Megan.  You became the father figure she desperately yearned for and reminded me what a wonderful Dad you had always been.  A lone tear drifted down my face as I quietly held your hand willing you to open your eyes so I could understand, make peace with my heart, and tell you to fight to stay.  Except for the solitary lamp lit by your bed, the room was dark.  Still I could see the Escher lithograph that had hung on your bedroom wall ever since I could remember.  I had always been fascinated by the building and the steps leading to it from somewhere far off in the imagination sight unseen.  I always imagined that perhaps those steps led to the heaven where Mama had resided since I was nine.

       Your breath caught, pulling my eyes to your face as your eyes fluttered opened.    Your normally brilliant blue eyes seemed abnormally big as you took me in.   You struggled to speak…but you had taught me well.  I saw the finality of goodbye in your eyes and the sadness that etched your features.

      “Always remember what I taught you Emma.  You will always find whatever you need to know within people’s eyes.  I know you can see the end in mine.  Don’t be sad for me.  Be strong.  Your mother is waiting and we will finally be together again.  Live your live passionately, my dear Emma.  Be happy.  Know that I love you, and we will be together again.”  The ghost of a smile crossed his features.  He gasped another shallow breath, and then all was still.  I gazed into the vacant vessel that had once housed one of the most precious souls that ever touched my life and knew.  He was gone, and I was now alone with the rest of my life before me. Wiping the flood of tears that fell unchecked, I thanked God for blessing me with this soul who had impacted my life so much and prayed for the strength to continue living without his guidance. 

              I knew what I needed to do now.  No one must ever know!  They could never suspect…ever.  I hurried down the hall to the bathroom where I quickly shaved my head, changed my clothes, and perfected my disguise.   School let out in approximately 15 minutes.  I had already laid the groundwork letting the school know that Megan’s long lost father would be picking her up from school this afternoon.  With my hair shaved, I could easily pass for a man.  I hurried out the back, dropping a match as I went.  The gasoline quickly did its job, engulfing the house into an inferno of flames.  I slipped out the back gate and hurried up the sidewalk two blocks where a car awaited.  I hurried into the back seat, nodded to the driver, and the black BMW sped off to pick up Megan.     I vowed to look forward  to our new life in France. It is long past time to make dreams into reality. Daddy always did know best.

       This story was written for the Speak Easy writing prompt where we were to start our story with "He taught me how to read other people's eyes." and to make a reference to the picture that I have shared with the post.  The story was to be 750 words or fewer.  My story is 743 words.  The story was adjusted from the original  June 19, 2014 in the effort to clear up any confusion about the fate of Megan that several readers had.  I hope you enjoy my story.


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Feeling Good

       The race had been tight since the primaries.  We had been all over the country.  I had made speeches, shook more hands than I could even count, and kissed so many babies their faces all blurred into one.  It was a dream I had pursued since I was a kid running in school elections.  All I ever wanted was to hold public office and make a difference in the world.  I wanted to help people.  I wanted to be remembered.  Then I had met Vivian.

         

       Vivian captivated me like no other woman could.  The only problem was that Vivian was from the wrong side of the tracks and not “First Lady” material.  Still, I lusted after her and chased her like a dog in heat.  I never figured the press would find out, but I realized the hard way that the press always finds out everything eventually.  No matter what, they always find out.  I thought I was immune.   I had gone to all the right schools, crawled my way to the top of the political ladder all the way to this run to the white house.    I had my good name, plenty of money, and the prerequisite perfect political wife, two kids, and family dog.  For all intents and purposes, I was a shoe in.

      Still my dark side was always there waiting to be discovered.  Vivian introduced me to cocaine and I was hooked.  I loved the rush it gave and the feeling of power I had been chasing my whole life.  It emboldened me to try new things…things I should have never thought of.  Vivian was a first rate call girl and honestly with her I experienced the best sex I ever had in my life.  That woman knew how to blow my mind.  There were times that I thought maybe it was the drugs that made Vivian so exciting, and then I realized I couldn’t live without either.  I got Vivian her own place and car, everything her heart desired.

         Now on the eve of the biggest election of my life for the top spot in the land the press had found out all about Vivian and the drugs.  I was ruined.  My life started to unravel quickly after that.  Feeling good didn’t seem to matter anymore.  My campaign manager rushed to do what damage control he could.  Unfortunately, the damage had been done.  No one wanted a cocaine addict as their leader and a prostitute as their First Lady.  No one was impressed with the perfect persona I had been selling once they learned the truth.  It didn’t matter how much the voters had loved my ideas, how great a speech maker I was, or what a sterling track record I had in public office previously.    Once the truth was out, there was nothing any of my campaign team could do to turn things back to our favor.  We gave it everything we had, but it wasn’t enough.  I lost the election.  I lost my perfect family and dog.  I lost my credibility.  In the end, I lost my dream.  All I was left with was Vivian and a stint in prison for possession.

      Still determined to have it all in the end, I had a sex change, found religion and thanks to millions spent in plastic surgery became Vivian.   I changed my clothes, my hair and face and am now the hottest thing in Hollywood.   I am feeling good, that is, until the press finds out.

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The Visitors

     There is no warning rattle at the door.  If there were, I would have escaped out the back.  I wouldn’t have boldly thrown the door open.  There were three of them, clutching bibles and Jesus tracts as if they were a lifeline.    The two men were dressed in three piece suits and the lady in her Sunday best.  All three were sweating profusely; after all it was 100 degrees in the shade easily.   

       All three plastered on concerned faces and fake smiles as the man clutching the biggest bible inquired if I had found Jesus.  I felt my eyes roll as the smart ass in me took over, silently asking the good Lord above for forgiveness.  Providence knows HE gets me, after all… HE is supposed to get everybody even these Bible beaters attempting to force religion down people’s throats door to door.  I forced an innocent smile on my face and feigned concern.

        “Honestly I didn’t know HE was lost!  Are you three the search party?”  I asked innocently.  They gaped at me and tried a different tactic.

         “Have you been saved dearie?” the woman asked.

         “Have you read His glorious word?” asked the second man who up until now had remained silent.

        I glanced over their shoulders to the gate they left opened.   I had painted the heart that welcomes all a bright fiery red just the weekend before.  A small bird sat perched watching the antics that were playing out on the porch.  I felt the love of God warming my heart and felt His gaze through this tiny creature.  My attention swiftly returned to my unwelcome guests and I felt a small wave of compassion.

      “I appreciate your interest in my salvation, but if you would please excuse me I need to prepare my sermon for Sunday.  Bless you all in your quest in finding Jesus.  I wish you all the best of luck.”   With that, I smiled at their astonished faces, and quietly took my leave closing the door gently behind me.

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The Device

        Ever since Max had moved to South Carolina ten years ago, he had fell in love with the beach only miles from his front doorstep.   He belonged there.  The ocean called to him.    Even when no one else ventured to the beach, he was there.  During storms, he would go suited up in rain gear to take pictures and watch nature’s fury first hand.  It was there that he could forget for a moment that Beth was gone from his life forever.  It was also where he allowed his heart to remember her and ultimately mourn his loss.  It had been years since the hurricane’s humongous waves had carried her away and drowned her.  He had wanted to photograph the hurricane’s fury first hand.  When everyone had evacuated to safety, he had convinced Beth to stay and see it with him.  How ironic that the place where he found her would ultimately be the place he lost her as well.

       He scoured the beach for the treasure that would wash up on shore with the tide.  He was never quite sure what he was searching for, but in the deepest depths of his heart he felt empty and knew he had never found it.  Instead, he had a vast collection of colorful beach glass, fragments of seashells, and driftwood that he had collected over the years.   Unfortunately, all the beach glass, shells, and driftwood in the world wouldn’t bring back his precious Beth. His guilt had ate at him ever since.

      One bright April morning he headed to the beach like any other for another leisurely stroll where he always ended up taking more pictures of everything he seen there and adding to his ever growing collection.    He bent to pick up what he thought was another piece of driftwood.  That is when he found the device.  He felt the hair on his neck stand up on end while he looked at it.  It was pulsing in his hands, as if alive.   Nervously he looked around and found the beach as deserted as it had been moments before.  Eerily enough, he felt as if he was being watched.  He thought about Beth as he pushed the buttons randomly wanting badly to share his find with her.    He heard a crackle, and his breath caught.  Beth was walking towards him.   His Beth!  But that was impossible!  He had lost his true love to the sea years ago…still here she was defying all common sense and reason.

         Unable to believe what his eyes told him were true, he ran towards her, the device completely forgotten where he had dropped it in the sand in his shock.  Her smile lit up the beach and warmed his heart.  He wrapped his arms around her and melted into her soft loveliness for the first time in forever.  It was like coming home.  Tears fogged his vision as he took in the essence of her.   The fragrance she always wore enveloped him and filled his senses.  Such joy filled his heart as he kissed her and drank her in.  There was so much he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted answered.  Still he couldn’t find the words.  His ability to form coherent thought was lost to him.  He lifted her in the air and twirled her around as he had always done, overwhelmed with the joy of finding her once again.  She had come back to him!

        He grabbed her hand and led her to the device lying on the sand where he had dropped it, picking it up once again.   He wanted to show it to her, show her this miraculous piece of treasure that had brought her back to him.    She suddenly looked frightened.  Shaking her head frantically she dropped his hand and backed away.  He didn’t understand.  She turned and walked back toward the sea from where she came.  This time he wouldn’t let her go! Determined to not lose her again, he went after her with a sense of purpose he had never felt before or since, pushing the buttons in desperation.  He disappeared, lost forever to this world, his insatiable curiosity finally getting the best of him.   She never looked back, she just kept walking.

      

The Shipment

      Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes.  She needed to die, plain and simple.  She had known entirely too much and was getting a little too free with sharing the knowledge.  I couldn’t afford to have her blabbing my business.  It would cost me everything.   Not only that, a lot bigger heads would roll if I were ever caught.  It would be a classic domino effect, and they would make sure I paid dearly with my life if that ever happened.   I should have never got involved with her in the first place.  Looking back now, I know I simply couldn’t resist.   She was hot…and a piece of work.  She had needed the job, so I had hired her as a receptionist at the art gallery thinking at the time she wasn’t too bright.  Little did I know that the beautiful bombshell actually did have a brain to go with those sapphire eyes, long sexy legs, and amazing rack.

       All of a sudden she starting putting 2 and 2 together, and lo and behold, it didn’t always add up to 4.  We were exporting art overseas packed with cartons lined with bags of the best cocaine money could buy.  The shipments were worth millions.  We packed it all in the best smelling coffee grounds to throw the scent off so the drug hounds at customs wouldn’t get wise to the operation.  All was going like clockwork until I decided to give in to lust and sleep with the bimbo.  That is when everything started going south.  I fancied myself falling for her.  I found her intoxicating and my tongue loosened up when she was around.  Once she figured out that my business didn’t only involve art, she got scared.  A scared woman with too much explosive knowledge can be dangerous.  I had no intention of going to prison for a loose tongued piece of ass no matter how good it was.

       So I killed her.  We had been intimate, so I figured it was up to me to get rid of her.  A friend of the boss owns the crematory in town and they wasted no time cremating her remains and helping me clean up the mess.  I personally packed what was left of Bridget in a crate holding Albrecht Durer’s painting of Oswalt Krel among this week’s shipment of coffee grounds and drugs.  My associates overseas would see to it that her ashes were disposed of.  No one would ever have to know.   As a stroke of luck, Bridget seemed alone in the world so no one should come asking questions.  If they do, I know nothing.   Surprisingly, I have never killed anyone before and never hope to again.  It left a bad taste in my mouth.  However, if they get in the way of business like the fair Bridget did I will be left with no choice.  After all, business is business.

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The Walk Home

       Since the ruling had passed there was no more busing to her neighborhood in an attempt to cut costs.  It was a crock but she had no other choice but to walk to school.  Anyone who lived within 3 miles of the school had to now because the district simply couldn’t afford to run the buses for everyone.  She didn’t mind the walk really.  The exercise did her good.  Now that winter was fast approaching, the mornings were decidedly darker and by the time she reached home it was almost dark once again.  She did mind the dark.  It made her uneasy. 

        Now that she was forced to walk to and from school she wished she hadn’t joined the band and chosen to play the tuba.  Seriously, what had she been thinking?  The damn thing grew heavier with every step she took.  She was required to take it home to practice each day and cart it back day in and day out.  What with her backpack, her purse, and the damn tuba she was loaded down.  By the time she reached home she was exhausted from the trek.  Today was no different.  She approached the woods that provided her a shortcut home.  By all rights, she should stay on the sidewalk.    By that point in her journey she was tired and ready to be home, so with misgivings she took the shortcut anyway.

       Once surrounded by trees on all sides, the night closed in slowly around her.   She picked up speed, feeling a sense of foreboding the farther she walked.  The breeze rustled through the branches above.  A twig cracked behind her.  She turned quickly, but saw nothing.  Her heart beat double time as she walked a bit faster.  Another twig cracked.  The leaves rustled.  With her heart in her throat she looked back again.    In a split second her eyes focused on a shadow of a dark form lurking from behind the trees.  She saw a flash of metal…a knife.  The shadow smiled an evil white grin and started moving towards her.  With her heart in her throat, she ran.  He laughed and quickly pursued her, closing the gap between them.  He grabbed her arm and she screamed.  He pulled her towards him as she swung the tuba case at him.  The heavy case hit his chest, leaving him gasping.  She hurried away leaving the tuba behind.

       “You bitch! I’ll make you pay for that!” he promised as he chased her.  She tripped over a tree root and fell to the ground.  As she scrambled to gain her footing, he was upon her, slapping her hard across the face.  He grabbed her, laughing as he did.  “I have you now and you will be mine.”  He forced her to the ground, pulled duct tape from his pocket and bound her arms above her head.  She struggled and screamed for help.  He taped her mouth and produced a knife from his pocket.  Her eyes widened in horror as she watched him cut her and blood gush from the gash. “Ready to have a bit of fun?” he asked with a wicked grin.  Tears escaped her eyes as he raped her mutilating her body for his pleasure.

     “Oh dear God, help me escape!”  Her mind screamed.   The clouds shifted, casting an ominous shadow on the ground.  She realized then he was standing over her, finished and quite satisfied with himself.  “Thank you, too bad you didn’t seem to enjoy it as much as I did.” He mocked.  He walked away, as if he hadn’t a care in the world whistling a tune as he went.   Wearily, she closed her eyes, shutting him out, and welcomed the light that enveloped her.  She walked toward it with determination, away from the fear and pain that had consumed her only seconds before into the paradise that awaited her for eternity.

This is my response to the Speakeasy weekly prompt #161, which is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 646).

 (1) using “The clouds shifted, casting an ominous shadow on the ground.” anywhere in the piece, 

 (2) making some kind of reference to the music prompt, which is Adele’s "Rolling in the Deep".  As an added challenge, we were challenged to write a story that was “family-free”, which means no mention of family relationships in the story.

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Acceptance

       Just another boring summer’s day, and like usual Billy and his friends were looking to start something.  They often gathered in the alley behind his house plotting, planning, and instigating mischief.  Today was no different. Billy’s friends were always a little more prone to finding trouble than Billy himself.  He just wanted more than anything to fit in.   Even though most of their ideas bordered on plain stupidity Billy went along on the most part.

 

      They talked about girls, sports, and challenged each other to silly dares.  Occasionally they would head to the park to throw a ball around or to the neighborhood pool to cool off.  He was only half listening when Tommy came up with the grand plan to steal something…just to see if they could get away with it.  They would make it a scavenger hunt of sorts.  You had to steal whatever the group decided and get away with it,   and the winner not only got the respect of his peers, he also got to decide what was next on the list.

        Stealing anything was completely stupid. He knew it.   As he listened to their latest hair brain scheme he knew one thing for certain, they would always think of him as a complete tool if he didn’t step up to the plate and show them that he had the guts to do anything they suggested.  They already teased him relentlessly and called him the priest because he normally upheld his ideals.  His sense of right and wrong always battled in his head and heart every single time they suggested anything like this.  Deep down most of them respected him for being so good.  On the surface, they despised him for the same reason. 

          “I’ll do it. I’ll go first.” Billy said with conviction.  Shocked, they turned to look at him, wondering if they had heard correctly.  He stood up, and made his way to the street.  That is when he saw Danielle leaving their brownstone, purse in hand.  Instantly, Billy knew what he had to do.  With a deep breath, he ran after his sister, snatched her purse and took off like a bat of hell with her hot on his heels screaming like a wounded banshee.

    “Billy, you little shit! Come back here!  You are going to make me late for work!” she yelled as she sped off in hot pursuit.  He weaved as he ran trying desperately to lose her.  He would have to answer for this later. He knew it as well as he knew his own name.  Danielle would give him holy hell for making her late.   Ducking into an alley, he rummaged through her purse intent only on what he searched for.  Seeing it, he snatched it, discarded the purse knowing she would find it there and ran hell bent for election to meet his friends.

        Danielle saw him disappear around the corner as she knelt to gather up her purse and its contents.    What the hell was Billy thinking?  The little shit.  If he wanted money, he could have asked her!!  Except, all her money was there.  Nothing really seemed to be missing.  Well he wasn’t going to get away with this.  She was going to give him a good telling off for this little stunt.  She was tired of his bullshit.  She was determined to find out just what the hell he was up too.  It was obviously no good.  Worry and anger engulfed her.  She was justified, damn it and threw caution to the wind as she pursued him with all thoughts of making it to work on time forgotten for the moment.    She found him surrounded by his friends, high fiving at his accomplishment as he held up her favorite pen.  A stupid pen! That was what this was about?  Instantly she knew it was about way more than a pen.   With realization, she smiled slowly turning away.   Good for him.  Through the clarity of retrospect, the obvious conclusion surfaced: things don’t always turn out as planned.

This is my response to Speakeasy’s weekly prompt, which is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 671) (1) with some kind of reference to the media prompt, a short film by Tanmay Shah, entitled Intent, AND (2) use the last sentence of:  “Through the clarity of retrospect, the obvious conclusion surfaced: things don’t always turn out as planned.”

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