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Re: Summer Story
Chapter XXXI
Nicey was still screaming at Aunt Myrtle, glad of the chance to vent, to tell the old hag what she really thought of her. Even when the children woke, Sheldon and Ryan, and stumbled bleery eyed into the room, she did not let up.
“Mama? Mama, a wha?”
She ignored them, bending over Aunt Myrtle, screaming obscenities and threats, gloating at her perceived victory. She could feel her well of hate and unhappiness emptying but she could not stop until every last drop was expressed.
The children were stunned and afraid at their mother’s display. Why was she cursing and screaming at nothing? Sheldon hung onto his older brother but Ryan brushed him off, his curiousity overcoming his fear. There was something white in the dark, on the floor and he was drawn to it.
“Lawd wooiiee!” he yelled when he saw his grandmother lying there, blood pooling beneath her head, her eyes half slits.
His yell halted Nicey’s tirade and as though in a trance she stepped back. First one, then two, then three then more steps, until she as at the far wall, plastered to it. She let out a tiny sound as though that was all that was left inside her well. Sheldon began to cry, afraid of whatever it was that caused his brother to yell so and afraid too by his mother’s now palpable fear.
“Ry-” her voice came out course and broken and she tried again. “Ryan. Ryan move! Move whe mi say!”
“Mama! Mama!” and Nicey made to answer but realised just then that he referred not to her, but to Myrtle, who still lay prone on the floor.
“Ryan,” Nicey’s voice held an uncharacteristic plea and Sheldon cries became louder.
“Mama, wake up,” Ryan was shaking her. “Tun awn de light! Oonuu tun awn de light!”
But Nicey did not think that a good idea. She did not want illuminated what she already knew.
******
Audley laughed quietly. She was still asleep. While he had taken his pleasure at her expense, she slept. He watched her sleep, her form unchanged, her legs still splayed and he turned his head away. Jesus. After feeling so incredibly good, only a moment before, how could he be feeling so astoundingly low now? His elbow sought out and found the hollow of the steering wheel and he rested it there and then his head in his hand. Jesus. What had he done? How could he face her? ‘I’ll miss you,’ she’d said. He was already missing her and she’d not even left. He was missing her because he knew they could not go back to how they were before.
As quietly as he could, he put the Jeep into drive and moved off. He’d forgotten about Dean. He’d forgotten everything except what caused the wetness that now clung stubbornly to his thigh. He would take her back to the house and resume his search. If he had the energy for it.
*******
Ryan was crying now. In dark, he knelt next to his grandmother and held her hand that was still warm and rocked with it. His universe had shifted. It was on a different plane now, he could sense, and it did not bode well. But his young mind couldn’t fathom just how unwell it would be. All he tried to process was the here and now. Aunt Myrtle was dead, in the dark, in her nightdress, without her brightly patterned scarf or her long earrings. Aunt Myrtle was dead and his mother would not turn the lights on or come closer. But at least she’d stopped screaming though now Sheldon was. Aunt Myrtle was dead.
Nicey knew she should do something but she felt powerless. She need time to think. To figure out what to to say and do. She needed time. Sheldon’s screams of childish fear was causing her to unravel and she wanted to hit him into silence. She wanted to drag Ryan away from her, to yell at him, “She did waa tek yuh whe fram mi!”
But she was frozen, the realisation coming to her sluggishly, that in death, Aunt Myrtle was in danger of succeeding. Nicey needed to move, to act and when she heard the pounding on the back door she was weak from gratitude. Rushing past her crying children, she headed for the back door, her feet heavy on the creaking wood flooring. She only just managed to undo the deadbolts before the door was thrust in and Dean stumbled inside.
“Dean,” Nicey whispered, so unbelievable happy to see him, that tears immediately began to streak down her face. “Dean,” she whispered again, her voice breaking, her arms going out to hold him close. But he was not seeing her. His wild gaze was focused down the hallway, into the darkness.
“Mama,” he said, rushing by her.
“No!” Nicey screamed, dragging at him, trying to hold him back. But Dean needed to see Aunt Myrtle right now. For Aunt Myrtle would know what to do.
“Leggo me!” he snarled. “Mi affi si Mama right now!”
“No,” Nicey was sobbing, her pain at his renewed rejection and her fear at what lay ahead combining to become something incredibly intolerable.
Dean was running ahead, down the dark hallway, his legs pounding in urgency. She would know what to do. Oh God. He couldn’t deal with anything else tonight. Aunt Myrtle would know what to do. The children’s crying was a distant register and he had veered off to Aunt Myrtle’s door when Sheldon grabbed his legs and pressed his face into it. It unbalanced Dean and he put out his arm to hold onto the wall. Before he could ask, Ryan was standing there, the lights finally on in the room behind him, framing him, but throwing his face into shadows.
“Dean,” Ryan’s thin voice pronounced, tremors making the one word almost illegible. “Mama dead. Aunt Myrtle dead.”
*******
In her drug induced slumber, Michelle dreamt. She was giving birth but the child did not want to leave the safety of her womb for outside it they waited. From her distorted viewpoint, Earl and his wife, Audley and Nicey, Aunt Myrtle and Michelle’s mother and Dean all waited, eager to snatch the child each for their own cloudy purpose.
She wanted to clench her thighs together, to protect what was so precious to her, but they were being held apart and the hands were coming, getting ever closer, fingers curled to grasp and rip. Michelle wanted to scream, to cry out for someone to save her. But she was devastated when she could think of no one.
THE END
© 2007
Chapter XXXI
Nicey was still screaming at Aunt Myrtle, glad of the chance to vent, to tell the old hag what she really thought of her. Even when the children woke, Sheldon and Ryan, and stumbled bleery eyed into the room, she did not let up.
“Mama? Mama, a wha?”
She ignored them, bending over Aunt Myrtle, screaming obscenities and threats, gloating at her perceived victory. She could feel her well of hate and unhappiness emptying but she could not stop until every last drop was expressed.
The children were stunned and afraid at their mother’s display. Why was she cursing and screaming at nothing? Sheldon hung onto his older brother but Ryan brushed him off, his curiousity overcoming his fear. There was something white in the dark, on the floor and he was drawn to it.
“Lawd wooiiee!” he yelled when he saw his grandmother lying there, blood pooling beneath her head, her eyes half slits.
His yell halted Nicey’s tirade and as though in a trance she stepped back. First one, then two, then three then more steps, until she as at the far wall, plastered to it. She let out a tiny sound as though that was all that was left inside her well. Sheldon began to cry, afraid of whatever it was that caused his brother to yell so and afraid too by his mother’s now palpable fear.
“Ry-” her voice came out course and broken and she tried again. “Ryan. Ryan move! Move whe mi say!”
“Mama! Mama!” and Nicey made to answer but realised just then that he referred not to her, but to Myrtle, who still lay prone on the floor.
“Ryan,” Nicey’s voice held an uncharacteristic plea and Sheldon cries became louder.
“Mama, wake up,” Ryan was shaking her. “Tun awn de light! Oonuu tun awn de light!”
But Nicey did not think that a good idea. She did not want illuminated what she already knew.
******
Audley laughed quietly. She was still asleep. While he had taken his pleasure at her expense, she slept. He watched her sleep, her form unchanged, her legs still splayed and he turned his head away. Jesus. After feeling so incredibly good, only a moment before, how could he be feeling so astoundingly low now? His elbow sought out and found the hollow of the steering wheel and he rested it there and then his head in his hand. Jesus. What had he done? How could he face her? ‘I’ll miss you,’ she’d said. He was already missing her and she’d not even left. He was missing her because he knew they could not go back to how they were before.
As quietly as he could, he put the Jeep into drive and moved off. He’d forgotten about Dean. He’d forgotten everything except what caused the wetness that now clung stubbornly to his thigh. He would take her back to the house and resume his search. If he had the energy for it.
*******
Ryan was crying now. In dark, he knelt next to his grandmother and held her hand that was still warm and rocked with it. His universe had shifted. It was on a different plane now, he could sense, and it did not bode well. But his young mind couldn’t fathom just how unwell it would be. All he tried to process was the here and now. Aunt Myrtle was dead, in the dark, in her nightdress, without her brightly patterned scarf or her long earrings. Aunt Myrtle was dead and his mother would not turn the lights on or come closer. But at least she’d stopped screaming though now Sheldon was. Aunt Myrtle was dead.
Nicey knew she should do something but she felt powerless. She need time to think. To figure out what to to say and do. She needed time. Sheldon’s screams of childish fear was causing her to unravel and she wanted to hit him into silence. She wanted to drag Ryan away from her, to yell at him, “She did waa tek yuh whe fram mi!”
But she was frozen, the realisation coming to her sluggishly, that in death, Aunt Myrtle was in danger of succeeding. Nicey needed to move, to act and when she heard the pounding on the back door she was weak from gratitude. Rushing past her crying children, she headed for the back door, her feet heavy on the creaking wood flooring. She only just managed to undo the deadbolts before the door was thrust in and Dean stumbled inside.
“Dean,” Nicey whispered, so unbelievable happy to see him, that tears immediately began to streak down her face. “Dean,” she whispered again, her voice breaking, her arms going out to hold him close. But he was not seeing her. His wild gaze was focused down the hallway, into the darkness.
“Mama,” he said, rushing by her.
“No!” Nicey screamed, dragging at him, trying to hold him back. But Dean needed to see Aunt Myrtle right now. For Aunt Myrtle would know what to do.
“Leggo me!” he snarled. “Mi affi si Mama right now!”
“No,” Nicey was sobbing, her pain at his renewed rejection and her fear at what lay ahead combining to become something incredibly intolerable.
Dean was running ahead, down the dark hallway, his legs pounding in urgency. She would know what to do. Oh God. He couldn’t deal with anything else tonight. Aunt Myrtle would know what to do. The children’s crying was a distant register and he had veered off to Aunt Myrtle’s door when Sheldon grabbed his legs and pressed his face into it. It unbalanced Dean and he put out his arm to hold onto the wall. Before he could ask, Ryan was standing there, the lights finally on in the room behind him, framing him, but throwing his face into shadows.
“Dean,” Ryan’s thin voice pronounced, tremors making the one word almost illegible. “Mama dead. Aunt Myrtle dead.”
*******
In her drug induced slumber, Michelle dreamt. She was giving birth but the child did not want to leave the safety of her womb for outside it they waited. From her distorted viewpoint, Earl and his wife, Audley and Nicey, Aunt Myrtle and Michelle’s mother and Dean all waited, eager to snatch the child each for their own cloudy purpose.
She wanted to clench her thighs together, to protect what was so precious to her, but they were being held apart and the hands were coming, getting ever closer, fingers curled to grasp and rip. Michelle wanted to scream, to cry out for someone to save her. But she was devastated when she could think of no one.
THE END
© 2007
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