The night of October 31 was cold and still. The absence of sun came with a lack of children, leaving a lone man under a quivering street light. There were houses with broken windows, small rusted trikes in the yard, furniture scattered across the street, no cars dared to go down this road, soggy newspapers from the 80’s piled up on holey porches, only a dim light that shone through a boarded up window stood as proof that something lived here. Dead flowers, stuffed animals, and beautiful posters stood against metal fences. Some had lighted candles, others only had a torn up doll but they each equally held memories. The man leaned against the pole and gave a small smirk up to the lighted window before him. “It’s been too long sweet Ngozi.”
The man wore a suit, face hidden by his fedora, hands buried deep into his pockets. His green stringy hair stood as straight as sticks when he glanced left, then right, eyes straining against the darkness. After several minutes of searching, he walked up to the house. He made sure not to step on broken glass and dirt covered dolls. His hand reached to grab the railing but quickly pulled his hand back when he saw the wood was randomly broken. Slowly he walked forward a small chuckle escaping his lips. The floor boards strained and groaned against each of his steps as if begging him to leave.
“Honey, I’m home,” the man sang while throwing the door open. The smell of dog pee quickly clung to him like a cologne. Random furniture was thrown apart every which way. sharp springs stuck out of a plaid couch. The door to a once white fridge hung off of its hinges across the room. Putrid smells came from a brown mushy blob in a cabinet. Plastic bags of white powder stood out, they were so clean, so nicely placed upon the flipped table. He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, some things just never change.
The man opted for the rocking chair in a corner than the any of the cushioned furniture. ‘I’d rather not know what lives in those,” the man thought with disgust. He slowly rocked back and forth staring up through the huge hole in the roof. Stars shined so brightly down upon him. “My grandpa shipped my dad off to a camp in Nasa,” the man spoke,”He thought that my dad, Roy, was going to be training to become an astronaut. Little did he know that he was only a janitor. Well after some big lies and one too many drinks I guess it’s safe to say that Roy did become an astronaut. The Reluctant astronaut. Yeah, that’s what they called him.”
While in recalling the story of Roy the man accidentally leaned too far back in the rocking chair and crashed into the wall behind him. The wall crumbled away creating a huge hole to add to the collection. Mice scurried out in vain trying to escape the debris. The man stomped on a mouse’s tail and snatched it up quickly. The mouse bit him and squirmed in vain, squealing out to its brothers to save him. It was all for nothing, for the man quickly swallowed it whole. A silent wind passed through the house, a slight creak came from upstairs followed by a small groan.
“I grabbed a snack. Hope you don’t mind I was starving love,” the man called out while picking up the rocking chair and once more sitting down.
“You know, most hostess actually greet their guests. Don’t tell me you’re scared of me my dear, come on I thought we knew each other better than that,” the man gave out a fake sob and laid a hand across his forehead. “Come on sweetheart no matter how long you wait I still have to do my job.”
No reply was given. He gave a shaky sigh
“Hope you don’t mind me smoking, I’ll try not to,” the man looked around the room his eyes fixating on each crack,” dirty up the place.”
He pulled out his last cigar and a shiny gray lighter. He cupped his hand around the wick and flicked it on.
Nothing.
Once, twice, nothing. With no wind, he checked the fluid. It was almost full. He was about to try once more when a hand shot out, lighting the cigar with a match.
“You get more flavor this way,” came a scratchy disoriented voice.
The man swiveled his head to the enigmatic woman. No matter how many times he looked at her he could never get over this feeling of repulse and regret. She was once the vision of beauty, with hair as gold as the sun and eyes that shone like the bluest of skies. Her face, now half burnt, was marred by just one fatal accident on an assignment, his fatal accident.
“Just give me the confound paper Belladonna,” He snapped while turning his head forward. Where was she?
“A little eager tonight,” she crooned while lifting her finger under his chin, turning his head towards her once more.
“I was once beautiful,” she cackled into his ear. “But people like us are damned.”
His face contorted into anger and he jumped out of his chair. He forced her down onto the ground. “I am nothing like you,” he spat right into her face,” I was forced to do this or she would die. You chose this life.”
Belladonna gave a low sorrow filled sigh while slowly rising back to her feet. She stopped laughing and wrapped her arms around herself as though trying to find comfort and hold onto what little sanity she had left.
“No one ever chooses this,” she cried out weakly and quickly handed him a ripped notebook paper with an address and a name scribbled roughly upon it.
‘Only 4 blocks away,’ the man thought,’ This will be easy.’
He started to walk away when Jessica cried out,” he’s only 6!”
“So his death won't have a huge impact. Good. Thanks for telling me,” he said as he left to go upstairs “Besides, it’s not like he chose this.”
Comments (1)
See all