July 23, 2005.07.23.05. - urban legends [momma grace-tristan] *ul[forum]
(st)
Mary, Mary, quite contrary. How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockleshells and pretty Maids all in a row...Darkness flows like water across the silvery surface of the mirror, curling and rolling in wispy tendrils of shadows, like the arms of an octopus.
A face emerges, fine-boned and high browed, of a once beautiful woman, with the skin pulled back tightly against the bone to give its pallid, white skin a grotesquely skeletal formation; twin black pits reside in the deep hallow of blackened eye sockets, thin red lines run down sharp cheek bones as dried rivers of blood.
… the distant chanting of childish voices, snickers and giggles, taunts and whines of fright, tossed around the three young girls that spin in circles, standing in place before a large mirror that hung just above the sink in the bathroom with only a single candle for light.
“Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” Three times, they cried in a singsong voice, the chorus of their youthful voices rising up in unison.
One girl stops, in mid-spin fixing her eyes on the mirror as she sees the ghostly face slide through the reflective glass. Her eyes widening, mouth agapes in horror, she can feel her skin prickle across her body with an icy chill of fear. The second and third girl, giggling, stop spinning as they noticed their friend, “Sarah?” the third girl looks up then, and screams. They all scream. The Ghostly apparition screeches as shadowy tendrils and claw-like hands explode out of the mirror in inky-blackness to surround them. The soft clink of rosary beads swings through the air to slap them across their faces…
… The screaming continues…
---
… screaming.
Loud and frightful as the small, feminine body thrashed around violently in the back of the Bronco; fiery curls dampen against the pallid skin, wet with sweat and tears. Molly throws herself upright, continuing to scream until two firm hands grip her shoulders and shake the nine year old violently. “Molly! MOLLY Wake up!” Molly’s lashes flutter open, lifting her adorable cherub face up to turn green eyes upon the older girl that shakes her. She throws her little arms around Andrea, hugging onto her for dear life. Molly tucks her head into Andrea’s chest, panting in heavy sobs, the other girl, a few years older, croons softly into Molly’s ear.
“I see it, Ani. I see it!” she wails out in muffled cries, Andrea gently pats a hand across the girl’s back. “It’s only a dream, Molly, it’s just a dream. We’re safe.”
Safe. Andrea tilted her head up to stare out the back window of the Bronco; she saw nothing but the dark outline of the alley, narrowing brown eyes to peer out, searching for the heavy shape of their guardian.
Nostrils flared, heavy tongue lolls out as the massive form of a brown wolf rolled its way out from underneath the Bronco, body shifting upward as bones and joints cracked and reshape. In the darkness of the alley, no one would see him do this. This side of the city was vacant of all forms of life, or so he thought. Andrea can see the tall, heavy outline of a young black man, barely sixteen (but well built from a hard life on the streets and juvenile detention centers), make his way to the front of the Bronco. The driver’s door opens as Judas peers inside, one arm reaching for a pair of jeans on the seat and quickly pulls them on. Dark eyes look over at the two white girls in the backseat. “Another dream?”
Andrea nods her head, biting on her bottom lip, “Can… you stay with us? In here I mean.” She gives Judas a pleading look, fear etched into her pretty eyes. He lets out a small sigh, nodding his head, “Yeh.” The door slams shut as he manages to maneuver his large frame into the back, curling up around Andrea and Molly. He lays down, pulling Andrea up against him and holds her. “Go back to sleep,” he whispers to them.
Further back in the alley, a large figure lurks in the darkness, covered in a multi-layer of clothing and smelling as if it emerged from the Great Trash Heap itself. It watches the Bronco quietly with interest, biding its time. A cardboard refuge becomes its new home for now.
Beware the cyclops, my son... There is tale amidst the grit and grime, deep in the interior of the darkened streets of Southside. Even the most egostical of gang-bangers are cautious near a particular intersection of streets... Hookers are cautious to work there... hey anyone remember what happened to that real fine one from a year back. I heard she went missing several months ago.. what was her name.. chloe.... she ran with.. oh, nevermind.
--
NYC— It was all over the news, spreading across two state lines from New Jersey to New York. It was a gruesome slaughter, the dismembered and charred bodies of four children found slain in an abandoned house located out in the woods close to the Pine Barrens. The Pine Barrens hadn’t seen its share of grisly horror in a few years. Guess it was about time. The news on the television reports to a couple that is greatly affected by the bizarre killings. Police Investigators came knocking on the door of the matronly Grace Stern at 9am the morning to ask her some questions. The large portly woman sat in her kitchen, thick fingers twisting knots in her stained apron as she spoke with them.
There were no leads… the girl had been missing for days. The police consoled Mama Grace informing her they will do the best that they can to find her daughter. As soon as they left, the older woman brushed back a few grey hairs and burst into tears, her hands moving up to cover her face.
One of the local Bone Gnawers residing at Mama Grace’s resident for the night slips into the kitchen after the police had left. The bum watched the kinfolk cry, coming over to gingerly pat her arm and give her a reassuring squeeze. “Well, do what’s right, Mama Grace, see what we can dig up, and maybe she wasn’t one of these girls murdered at that slaying. We’s gonna find the girl.”
Mama Grace composes herself, “Ah, Hubcap, thank you, hunny. I know the boys will do what’s best please put word out on the barking chain. I don’t care how far it has to go. Just do what ya can for me.” Hubcap Willy gives Mama Grace a toothy grin, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on her plump cheek, before pulling away. “I’ll check in again soon.”
She watched him exit through the back door of her kitchen, pulling herself up out of her chair, reaching out for the ancient phone that sat on the wall. She knew the husband would yell about the cost of a long distance call, but Mama Grace didn’t care, sniffling as short fingers pound out the Chicago number of her boy.
Phone pressed to her ear, wiping away the tears from her cheeks. “Tristan, answer the phone, it’s Mama, baby..."
(tristan)
"mumphghnGUH!"It's saturday, he should be on the street already, playing his violin and drumming in some cash - but he's not. Yesterday was a good day, and he's taking saturday off. Maybe even whip up a picnic or something for Moira and Rox. Or something.
But for now, he's still hiding under the covers, pillow held over his head, until finally he reaches to snag the cell phone, and peer out of one bleery eye at the number.
Wide awake. He calls faithful every sunday afternoon. Momma Grace calling early means something's either very good, or more likely - very, very bad...
He sits up, and opens the phone, key it on. Voice still thick with sleep as he scrubs his face with free hand. "S'me, Momma, I'm here - what's wrong?"
(st)O
Tears...... the sound of tears greet the prettyboi over the receiver as Mama Grace couldn't hold it in. The sound of his voice making her cry once again, after a few minutes of weeping and a couple of heavy sobs, Mama Grace tries to compose herself.
"Oh, baby, it's horrible. She's gone. We don't know where or why or who. Just gone! Never called back. The policemen came while Hubcap Willy was here, but he stayed out of the way until they left. There's these murders in the Pine Barrens, out in that Jersey City you used to live in.." Her voice comes out in a loud, blubbery wail, words running fast and almost together, "My baby's gone, Tristan!!!"
(tris)
Tears...There are few things more powerful then a Son's love for his mother. It's an unbreakable bond - even those with pasts built on abuse and distrust still harbor that wish and hope for a mother's affection. Tristan is no different. His past one of love and trust and strength and peach switches only when he needed them, there are few people on this earth that can stop him from being there when she needs him.
The tears snap the rest of the sleep out of him, dark gaze darkening farther still. someone. hurt. momma. "Momma - slow down... what.... Andrea? Murdered? MOMMA! What happened?!?"
He's freaking out now a bit himself. Mental calculation starting - just how much would it take to get back home as fast as possible... will he have to ask Rox? Where's James? Fuck fuck "FUCK. Momma - slow down, tell me exactly what's happened... Where's Ani? How long's she been gone? What's this about murdered kids?"
Please, momma try and tell it straight...
He's grabbing his Jeans and tugging them on as he listens, searching for a clean wifebeater and pulling it on one handed, searching for clean socks - gets a wiff of that pair and makes a face, searches again. All the while making soothing sounds, and trying to pull a calm picture out of his frazzled and worried momma...
(st)
The portly woman, a whirlwind of emotion, rouses up a few more of her 'Gnawerish tenants, drawing a few more faces downstairs into her kitchen as they heard her loud voice. Tristan can hear a murmur of confused, yet concerned voices.There is a long pause, his voice echoing over the phone as he's near frantic. Tristan can hear the phone rustle around, and Mama Grace comes back on the line, calmer than before. "There's some talk on the news, baby, about some kids that were found murdered. More like... slaughtered in a house out in near the Pine Barrens in Jersey City. Andrea's been missing for a few days now, almost a week. We let her go to visit some friends in Jersey, some boy she's running with I think..."
More muffled voices erupt over the phone in a splurge of conversation, everyone talking at once. Mama Grace whistles loudly, "SHADDUP! I'm talkin' here!" The small gaggle of 'Gnawers hush up, some chuckling behind closed fists. "Tristan, far as we know Andrea ain't dead, just missing. I need to go down and see about identifying the bodies. They think it might be her because they found her wallet with her i.d. in it. Somewhere in the house, meaning she was there."
Another long pause, "If she's still alive, maybe in some kinda trouble, baby, keep an eye out for her in Chicago. Pass word along to through the barking chain. We's doin' what we can on our end."
(tris)
He's near frantic - and suddenly Momma is calm. This is the way it is, a give and take, and only one Stern can be near hysterical at a time. He falls to the chair by the window, looking out at the view at the incredible view and not seeing a damn thing. He listens to voices - and... he misses that. The bustle that is Momma Grace's kitchen, the ever changing tennents, the sheer whistle that has him pull the phone away from his ear a bit, then put it back again."Why.." Why you let her run off to visit some boy, why didn't you call before this, why why why... (calm down, pretty boi....)
"Ok, Momma... you call as soon as you have checked, you hear me? Call collect, I'll be waiting by the phone. I'll..."No trip - she said to stay, maybe Ani'll come here... if she's able... "Ok, Momma - I'll get with James and make sure its spread everywhere. You think she'd come here...?" He wants to be with them, doing what he can - but he'll just have to work from this end.
"ok. Yeah - Soon as you hear anything, you call, no matter what time it is..."
He's pulling on his boots, now, and tying them. No playing tonight, but he'll carry the case regardless. Prowling the streets may do exactly squat this far away, not knowing where she is, or if she's alive, or in trouble, or even heading this way - all he can do is put out the word.
But at least then? He'll be doing something.
(st)
"I'll call ya as soon as I can, Tristan. Stay safe for me and give a big kiss from Mama for me. I miss ya boys something fierce." She looks away towards the chatter of those gathered, something spoken about contacting spirits in the area."I gotta go. We's getting something roused up. Bye, baby." She hangs up the phone, setting it slowly back on the receiver. She sighs, turning around to face the 'Gnawers gathered around her kitchen and begins preparations.
(tris)
That gets a bit of a grin, as he runs his fingers through those tangled curls. "I will, Momma."She closes the connection, and he stares at the phone for a few moments, to try and control the desire to run and scream and shot in all directions at once. A deep breath, and he stands, and dials the phone.
His brother's number, of course.
"common, James... pick up pick up pick up...."
Posted by james at July 23, 2005 12:00 AM
(go to next scene, post phone call to get James' ass over there)