Girl Desecrated 1984: Vampires, Asylums and Highlanders, page 5
“Uhhh…”
I wanted to say I was going to go home, but a bead of sweat ran down to the fold in my eyelid and started to slip sideways towards the corner of my eye. I fluttered my lashes, trying to disburse the salty burn.
“What are you drinking?” she asked, noticing the absence of a bottle on the table.
“Oh… I’m out.”
Beneath the table, I twisted my hands, rubbing the numbness out of them.
“Didn’t dip into your college fund, I hope?” Lene asked.
“You know the story. My paycheque was sucked up by rent. Nothing left over.”
I wasn’t about to tell her I had fifty bucks coming to me if I followed my resolution and kept my legs shut for seven days.
“You need a better job than that corner store shit.”
“It won’t last.” My jobs never did.
She sighed. “Well don’t worry. Like I said I’m buying.”
I tilted my head to one side and then the other, cracking the tension out of my neck. The idea of getting good and drunk was tempting enough to forgive her comment about my job.
“But let’s not drink here.” She tossed her hair back. “There’s no action, we should split.”
If we moved to a busier bar, I’d be surrounded by people, and that would make me feel safer. But I wasn’t sure what the limits of my sanity were, or how safe others would be around me. Tonight, my ‘crazy’ had already gone beyond anything I’d experienced before, and I’d just had all the action I could take, but I wasn’t about to confess my madness to my best friend. Everyone was probably safer if I stayed right where I was, in a half-empty pub.
Jerking my chin at Man-boy who was just visible on his stool through the open doorway, I asked, “What about mamma’s boy, over there?”
Lene turned around in her chair to stare.
She dismissed him by delivering her verdict, “Wounded”.
“Virgin,” I countered, trying to make him sound more interesting so she’d stay.
“Not even!”
“Even!”
“Woun-ded!”
She was sticking to it.
Man-boy was a virgin because his shadow was white. When Man-boy had entered the bar, earlier, the light behind him through the open door had cast his shadow forward onto the hardwood floor, and it had been white as snow. That’s why I called him Man-boy. I didn’t find it weird because this was my seventh sense—shadow colours. I was used to reading people by the colours they laid out before them on the ground.
“Okay, Lene. You win. He was wounded by my rejection an hour ago.”
She let out a joyous laugh, and my stomach pitched as I joined in. I choked it off with a cough.
“I’ll be right back.” Lene grabbed a roll of quarters and left to order our beers.
“Don’t leave…” I started to say, then shut my trap, as she walked away.
Alone, my eyes roved the empty room, the fear of slipping away again, pebbling my skin.
A burst of male laughter carried from the other side of the bar where she had disappeared.
I ran my tongue over my dry lips. I was in control for the moment, but I wasn’t sure how stable I was. Calling my shrink would probably be best.
I slipped out of my seat and hurried to the pay phone that was screwed into the wall by the men’s room. I dragged the handset to my face, ignoring the grating shriek of the phone’s steel-wrapped cord as it scraped against the metal privacy edge. Digging out my emergency dime, I tried to get it into the slot, but my hand was shaking so much, I fumbled and almost dropped it. A few more tries and it finally clanked through the metal guts of the phone. I punched the square zero button with Donald’s knuckle, then tried to ignore the smell of stale beer on the plastic mouthpiece.
A nasally voice answered my call with, “Operator.”
“This is an emergency…” My words poured out. “I need to speak to Doctor Casbus at the Homeward Asylum.”
“We have a new service, which requires you to dial 411 for phone numbers.”
Lene walked back into the room, and I adjusted my expression, waving at her from the phone booth. She sat down and checked under her nails.
Lowering my voice, I cupped my hand around the receiver.
“But, I just used my only dime, lady.”
“Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?” The operator hissed.
I pulled the phone handset back and frowned at it. She sounded suspiciously like the TV comedian, Lily Tomlin.
“What did you say?”
Dead air sucked at my ear.
“And it’s not your only problem!” The words were garbled as if her mouth was full of marbles. “Is it?”
Lene met my eyes from across the room. She lifted her eyebrows. I gave her a reassuring smile and turned my back to the room, hunching over the phone.
“Listen, bitch...”
“You need to hold onto yourself,” the voice snickered, and another voice joined in, snorting in perfect synchrony.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
“Only you have nothing to hold onto,” they sang out, their shared tone rising to a pitch of excitement. “You don’t know yourself...”
I released a trembling breath.
“...and you can’t hold on to what you don’t know.”
I was immobilized with fear and self-revelation. The breathing on the other end became more heated until they were panting out ragged masculine grunts. The voices sounded in pain, then a drawn out, orgasmic moan wriggled through the ear piece.
I yanked the phone away from my face, then slammed it down as Lene half stood.
Shaking my head, I held up my hand like the Pope.
“Is it your mom?” she asked, before I reached the table.
“No,” I licked my dry lips. “Thanks for the drink.” I tipped up the bottle and guzzled.
She watched me, her eyes darting from my face to the phone.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
I conjured a lie as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Oh, the phone rang. I was stupid enough to answer.”
“Get real!” Her eyes sparkled. “Who was it?”
“Fffff, I don’t know. Some creep jerking off.”
I sat down slowly, shifting my chair around to avoid her eyes.
“Gross!” She laughed, and I joined in, only I sounded like a hyena on speed.
“Yeah, totally gag me.”
“Took you long enough to hang up,” she teased.
“Who am I to deny a guy his satisfaction?”
I tipped my beer again, trying to drown out the urge to cry. My teeth chattered against the bottle. I needed to leave, but I was too afraid to go home alone.
Lene’s laughter petered out.
Another guzzle on my beer, and a welcomed buzz chased my nerves away.
She was staring at me. A weird little silence settled in place between us. Lene picked at one of the coin rolls with a blue painted fingernail. I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything to say.
She finally spoke, “I’m leaving Reg”.
“What?” I tried to focus on her words.
“I said,” she stopped to swallow, “I’m leaving him.”
“For real?”
She didn’t answer.
I tried to read her eyes, but she wouldn’t lift her gaze from the coin roll. I didn’t want to shock her out of this decision, so I adopted a bored look and asked, “What brought this on?”
“Oh, you know. He’s a jerk.”
I nodded slowly. Reg was a jerk. A jerk who left bruises on her body, a jerk who stole her beautiful light and replaced it with tears. A jerk who had somehow won her heart and then worked hard to rip it from her rib cage on a daily basis.
The idea of her saving herself was tempting me to jump into her problems with both feet, but Lene had “left” him before. And seriously, I had my own life to deal with. I couldn’t get too jacked up about her relationship woes.
She changed the subject. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
She took out a smoke and offered me one. “Are you going to visit your mom?”
“Shit, yeah.”
Popping the cigarette between my lips, I leaned forward to touch the end to her lighter flame. I sucked in a double lungful.
I was definitely going to visit, but it wasn’t my mother I needed to see… it was her doctor. Sure, I could ask her about the yellow foolscap note she’d sent with Man-boy, but seriously, she’d been warning me about demons and familiars, and had been cursing my existence since before I could remember. Nothing new there.
After tonight, after the way things had gone before Lene showed up, my arm resisting the washing under the tap, the whole room disappearing into a black hole, and the voice on the phone, I needed to talk to Dr. Casbus. I needed help to be normal. I’d even be willing to take those pills he was always pushing, so I could just live my life without all this bullshit.
I also needed to see him, because until I did, my mother’s Satanic theories were front and centre in my mind. Thinking about going home to an empty apartment without his reassurance left me terrified. I needed the good doctor to share his scientific theories and analyze me back into a sense of calm.
“I have an idea.” My smile felt forced. “Why don’t we celebrate your new single status with an all-nighter?”
Lene’s face brightened, as I’m sure, she considered all the naughty business we could get up to. She raised her hand to order another round.
JAMESTOWN: THE PREDATOR’S CARNAL RULE
~
CROWDS OF EAGER MEN HAD poured out of the colony’s log gates, and gathered on the single dock when the tall sails of the ship were first sighted. They knew on board was the bride pool and the men would get to choose a wife from the passengers. After the initial cheers of greeting, which included excited hat waving, a hushed anxiety travelled through the crowd, subduing the fellows as they waited for the women to disembark.
The first boot peeking from beneath a skirt touched the deck, and with that first woman’s appearance, all nervousness fled in the face of excitement.
Few men stood alone, for how can one truly assess the value of property without another to share thoughts with? As the female passengers walked unsteadily down the ramp to the dock, the men discussed the positive attributes of each.
Once all were ashore, the women were greeted by the town’s mayor, who generously gave them one night on shore to freshen up, followed by an ultimatum that they should choose a husband on the morrow or return to England on the ship they had just exited. Apparently, there was no place in Jamestown for single women who had no family to care for them.
It was not easy for the ladies to be faced with such quick decision-making after a sea voyage that had lasted five months. Some had found the journey agonizing and were shadows of their former selves, having lost weight due to sickness and despair. Others had started as shadows, taken from the gallows, the pubs, the alleyways, where they had plied their bodies for half-pennies or a meal to get them through to the next day. These were used to suffering and had found ways to get extra rations from the sailors to keep them fed. Some of the women had come from farms, unwed daughters whose arms were strong from milking and harvesting, women with the knowledge to make candles, to spin wool and work a loom—all skills needed in Jamestown.
Then there was She, the one who in five months had never shared her name. This one plainly had never milked a cow nor sold her body to survive. She wore fine gloves and her bonnet was trimmed with the most intricate lace. Not unnoticed by the others, her skirt hems had been clean when she’d first climbed the gangplank to the ship. Due to her strange accent, which was not English, not French, and certainly not German, some of the ladies surmised She might be a gypsy who had found her fortune, perhaps as the paramour of some wealthy gentleman.
There were many suppositions, and much time in which to debate these ideas among themselves throughout the long, arduous journey. The She walked like a queen with her head held high, and the grace of her movements was beyond compare. Her poise was one argument stated many times against the gypsy theory. Yes, She had been the topic of late night whisperings.
And now, on land, months later, this She was looking peaked, her cheekbones pressing sharper than before, but it was not from the continuous upheaval of the ship upon the waves. Packed within the dark hold with the others, She had tried to keep the scent of their bodies out of her lungs. No, not the smell of their sweat, nor the piss, and shit, and puke, but those other scents of ligaments and marrow, blood and bone.
She had also used much energy in trying to close out the noise of their thoughts, tried to ignore her growing awareness of their dreams and hopes, for in that way lay compassion, and one should never feel compassion for prey.
Even knowing this carnal rule could not help her, for the close quarters had overwhelmed the She who could sense deeper than the others. Yes, she shared their ability to walk on two legs, but that is where she parted ways as an enlightened being with a dozen more senses to draw upon, a dozen more centuries to remember, and a dozen more reasons why she could not reveal who and what she was.
Too long, too close, too immersed and rendered impotent by the boundary of the sea to take her place among them as huntress, for were she found out, there would have been nowhere to run.
Powerless to cull the herd, and restore her failing energies, she had resorted to acquiring a companion from among the sailors. It was easily done. The will of a rigging-crawler is weak. Weakened by a lifetime of taking orders aboard a ship. The sailor she chose bent willingly to her influence, so willing it was most unsatisfying to the She who preferred pursuit, and peril, and the possibility of failure, to the sloth of drawing sustenance from the eager.
Having to keep her sailor alive, she could only sip as if partaking of a rich brew of fermented fruit. The curbing of her appetite throughout the trip had taken its toll on the regeneration of her milky skin cells, but not on her spirit.
Here in this new land, she planned to build a better life for herself. She had plotted to get as far from the clutches of folktales and superstition chasers as she could. For it was these tale bearers who had tried and almost succeeded in eradicating her kind from the plentiful pastures of Eastern Europe. The She had one plan for the Jamestown colony and that was to survive.
~
The next morning, after the ship’s arrival, the women rose and tried to tidy their appearance before meeting the men who had once again congregated in the fort’s common area. The excited rumbling of the men’s voices filtered through the town hall’s open windows, lighting little wicks of nervous energy in the women’s bellies.
“Come quick!” One of the more enthusiastic girls gestured the others over to the heavy curtains that draped the ripple-glass windows. The windows looked out over the common outdoor area, built on the inside of the fort.
In the muddy area below, the men of Jamestown gathered. Their excitement was obvious in the way they greeted each other, the rapid pumping of arms and the boisterous slapping of backs. Heads nodded as they conversed and waited to mingle with the ladies who would soon be their help mates.
These men had pioneer spirits and courage. They had travelled to an unknown land to make a new life for themselves in a country where even the climate could kill.
When these adventurers had first arrived, trade had been established with the Powhatans. Then the fort had been built. Then another, after the Indian raids. Then, the men of God came, then disease came, and the first two women, and then families, and then winter. Cold, deadly winter followed by four years of Indian wars, and the hollow ache of starvation. Still, year after year, the settlement had survived and one year after the ship, The White Lion, brought the first black people, the settlement was thought safe for women—European women. Wives!
It was a glorious day, for now each hard-working man could claim his bounty in female flesh. Of course, there would be opportunities to talk to a woman before making a life-binding decision, and there would be a celebration meal, ale and, no doubt, a dance.
The women, peeking from behind the curtains, had similar thoughts of how the day would play out. They, too, exclaimed at the possibilities below, and shared comments on the men who came in every size, shape, and age. They cheerfully bantered, while worry twirled in their corseted bellies. None wanted to be unchosen. None wanted to be the last chosen. None wanted to make a bad choice.
Out of all ninety women, not one was more beautiful, more alluring, or more sure of herself than She. There was no doubt in her mind or in the minds of the others that first pick of the men would be hers.
Unlike the others, She wasn’t choosing a husband. She already had one. She was choosing a male specimen intellectually and physically worthy to plant his seed in her belly. This was how she would survive on this northern continent. She needed to continue her line of daughters—two legged walkers, vessels to house her eternal light. Through their lives, She would attain her immortality.
But first, She must find a worthy man.
CHAPTER 4: ATTEMPTED ESCAPES
~
I DIDN’T SAY ANY MORE about Lene’s break-up with the abusive jerk-boyfriend, because a hot looking guy approached our side of the bar and distracted her. I eyed him warily, not ready to trust anything after the night’s macabre events.
“Hey, lookie here.” Lene’s eyes sparkled with interest as she took in his glossy brown hair and wholesome looks.
I was more interested in his coat made from softened animal hide and lined with creamy wool on the inside. My hand twitched to caress it as he walked by.
He pushed open the men’s room door, and the yellow light from within created a vintage outline around his head. I wasn’t sure if it was a shadow, but if it was, it was the first I’d seen in that colour. I had no idea what it meant. The door swung shut, and Lene closed her eyes, no doubt savouring the image of his tight jeans and work boots.
“Clydesdale.” She narrowed her eyes, wickedly.
