The shaded wagon truck bounced down
the bended road with only a hot orange sunset behind it. Curve after curve, the thumping of the
undercarriage on the road bumps created a wild manmade cadence that only
proximate nature was privy too. The
driver was a real cool man, faded pinstripe pants, shirt and vest about him
while a crumpled fedora sat with a feather plume on his head. Humming and jiving with no particular tune in
mind, the man was a laid back, happy one.
His easygoing drive down the many roads bumping along was punctured once
he saw her. Flowing black hair in a
stitched floral dress, the scattered image of wildflowers coloring red and
white. In her hand was a sack and on her
face was trouble. Her presence at this
time of day in this part of the outskirts was something to question, then again
the fluidity in which her body moved along the road was truly a marvel. Would he?
Should he? The truck’s gears
shifted and hummed, slowing down to a cool stroll as the woman turned back to
look and stuck out a pale thumb capped with pink nail polish. The driver decided to oblige.
“Evenin’ Miss Ma’am. You be needin’ a ride?” asked the driver with
an easygoing drawl.
“Much kindness to you for stoppin’,
I’m heading north a good ways, got me a brother somewhere and I’m goin’ to stay
with him.” replied the woman. Her voice
dripped with charm and did nothing to quell the humidity that might affect any
red blooded males in the area.
“Oh that be so? He stay up in the city? Wherebouts you gettin’ too?” his voice
rolling smooth again.
“Not sure which city you mean. I’m not from round these parts. I come somewheres in Flow-rida. He sent me a letter sayin’ he lives up north
a long, long ways and I’m just tryin’ to get to him. Make me a better life.” said the woman. The driver shifted his gait, looking right
into her blue eyes.
“Flow-rida? Miss Ma’am, you know you a long ways from
there, I knows you didn’t walk that far,
did ya? he asked. “Oh no”, she replied
“I had a few rides here and there. Last
one was a small time driver hauling some sorta goods, he let me off down near
the big river. I been walkin’ ever
since, dependin’ on the kindness of dear strangers for a an extra bite of food
or a chance to clean up some.” The
fading sunset was going down more and more with each passing word between the
two.
“I dunno how far north you got to go
and what not,” said the driver, “but I was on my way to a little shindig up
near the city, out on the delta. Now, they sometimes do barbecue real real good
and there be some drinkin’ too. But it’s
just a place to hear some really good blues.
People come and go through there, but if you ain’t had nothin’ to eat
and all, well I can make sure you get somethin’. Maybe you have a little drink and take in
them blues.......rest ya soul some.”
Something about his smoothness, had
the woman in the truck, obliging him for his offer. The truck geared and bumped to life down the
bending roads again.
“I’m Conlee by the way,” said the
driver, extending his hand. “But most folks round here just call me Con for
short ya know. What be your name? Unless you want me to keep callin’ you Miss
Ma’am?” he chuckled. The woman blushed
and chuckled back, “I’m Rosasharon. But you can just call me Rose.”
Con, ever the more true to his word,
delivered Rose to the shindig right outside the big city. Stepping out of the truck, she glanced at
what the scenery afforded her. The sun
was gone and replaced by the shadows of an early evening. Before them was what was once a burned out
cotton gin mill. Massive and blackened,
it had been victim to a horrendous fire at some point in its life and was
disfigured, but firm in its constitution by the big river. It was opened up in some spots and boarded up
with others in such a way that it resembled a crude amphitheater on the river
water. Up across the river in the
distance was the big city, “the ‘Phis”, as Con kept calling it on the drive
over. The lights in the ‘Phis sparkled
with yellow and blue dots, if Rose listened closely, she could almost hear the
soft and dull hum they gave off. Near
the entrance to it, was a great barbecue pit with a fire already roaring to the
prime of its life. A heavyset black man
in a white shirt with plain pants was slapping down hunks of raw meat. Every slap to the pit elicited a sound of
sizzle and drove dizzying amounts of fire sparks into the night which could
have easily been mistaken for a mess of fireflies. Looking around, only few automobiles were
parked. Singles and couples strolled up
in arms with one another, laughing and feeling right with the evening. The people were mostly black, but a few other
whites were in attendance. Everyone
dressed more for a Sunday morning service than a Friday night shindig. Rose glanced down at the grass and noticed by
the faint fire lights that it was blackened, no doubt scorched from the fire
that tormented it so long ago. Only now
the torment Rose smelled was the delicious barbecue in the nearby distance.
“Miss Rose,” said Con, “This is the
place. I know that barbecue must be
smellin’ real good to you right bout now.
Rose sniffed the air, taking in scent of it all.
“I thank you twofold for givin’ me a
lift here. I hope your evenin’ friends
won’t mind a stranger in here takin’ a bite.” she said. With a grin as wide as the big river Con
shot back, “They won’t mind you to be trouble at all.” The two of them stepped forward towards the
pit.
“Oh Rawlo, my man, give me and my
guest Miss Roseasharon, oh that be Miss Rose now, give us a taste of what you got
goin’ tonight!” cracked Con. Rawlo
tipped nodded at Rose. “The best we got
Con, you know that now. Here we got
mostly rib slabs tonight, biggest ones on the Delta that is!” he said with a
laugh. “Also now inside Honeykin has
some sweet drink for everyone. And then
o’course there the reason why we all here.” preached Rawlo. “That would be the blue music. Gotta rest these weary bodies out these weary
souls sometimes. Miss Rose, I hope you
find the music intoxicatin’.” said Rawlo with a sincerity in his voice.
Charred wooden beams flexed in all directions
inside the old cotton mill as it was now an amphitheater by way of its concave
shape. Outward and upward, the back
corners of the once-was-walls, shot out into the sky. The fire had done its damage up all the
walls, but still some walls and flooring remained intact, giving off just a
dull glow from their red and gold finishes.
Rose glanced along the wall at faded black and white pictures of various
musicians and people who had been there.
Pensive sax players and pretty singers stood posed on the stage that had
once been. Rose glanced over to where
the stage had once been, nothing remained.
The whole floor was chewed, looking as if something had bitten it
off…when a lady stepped in her view.
“Care for a sip, suga’?” asked the
lady, holding a waxy mason jar up to her face.
She was beautifully tanned with a sparkled blue headband to hold in her
flowing mane. “My name is Honeykin” she
said while Rose took the drink and sipped. “I understand you the pretty little
thing Con brought here. Said you on a
trip up north somewhere…hope you have time to rest your soul some here tonight.” The sweetness of the drink went straight to
Rose’s head. She had eaten some
blackberries she picked off a bush earlier that day, so there was nothing to
her stomach.
“Mmm, this is quite sweet and
good. I thank you. And yes, yes he did find me traveling on the
roads today. Headin’ up north I am, to
see my brother.” said Rose. Noticing her
empty hands, Honeykin stood back and gasped.
“And these fools hadn’ done anythin’ to give you to eat I see.” Taking Rose by the arm she escorted her to a
nearby table, one of a few dozen in the place, and sat her down with her
drink. Snapping her fingers, Honeykin
summoned a serving girl over who quickly dished Rose a tin dish with a slab of
ribs to eat.
“You eat up now darlin’. Sip that drink, and in only a bit we get the
music started.” said Honeykin, her voice dripping with smoothness.
Rose looked at the bent tin dish in
front of her. Her manners might as well
have fallen off into the river because she dug right in. Ripping the chewy, blackened meat off the
bone with her teeth. It melted proper
all over inside her eager mouth, satiating her cheeks reminding her what a
hearty bit of food tasted like again. The
meat was tender and savory, but something about it tasted foreign to her. The bone was far longer to be either a pork
or beef rib. Rose couldn’t reckon the
bone and soon gave up, devouring what she could of her ribs and obliging
herself more sweet drink. The only light
other than from the moon, was given off by a scant few oil lamps and candles
which soon were blown out by various people.
Embarrassed to eat in the dark, Rose ceased, pushing the tin further on
to the table as Con slinked into a chair beside her. He said nothing as he grinned and pointed out
towards the water. Standing at the edge
of the amphitheater was a four piece band.
A bass player, saxophonist, trumpeter, and drummer. From the far left of the edge out came a
woman. She was older, with jet black
hair on a white and gold print dress. A
greyed feather (or two) hung down from a pin in her hair, giving Rose the
inclination that the woman was an Indian.
Choctaw or most likely a Seminole.
There was a Seminole reservation still in Florida that Rose had once
seen, and this lady looked to be of the same heritage. With the lights out and the bright moon
bouncing off the river, a light purple haze was cast inside the amphitheater as
the band started playing. The bass line
played on its own as the sax and trumpet dueled their high melodies. The heartbeat of the piece was the drummer,
keeping them all in time, soon the woman began to croon in a foreign
tongue. Rose couldn’t understand the
words, but felt them in her mind as she found herself swaying little by little
in her chair. Around her others began
the sway as well, nodding and beating along with their knuckles on taps of the
tabletop. The rapturous hum of it all
had Rose feeling drunk with love and peace.
She felt her body and mind, down to her soul, hit all at once with the
electrical charge of revival. Closing her eyes, she swayed in her own chair,
feeling too tired to give a damn about the road and her path up north. She suddenly wanted more from her soul, and
found herself taking a trip inside her own mind. Running over wave after blue wave looking for
exactly for that revival charge she found so refreshing. Her weary body began
going numb to music as she lost herself completely within her own mind. Drunk on it all as the night air cooled her
face, the gentle calling lull of the bass line had them all renewing their
spirits against the rolling waters of the river’s shore.
Rose found herself on the verge of a
state of consciousness, within the sacred realm of sleep. Her senses were almost there until she felt
an overwhelming need to awaken. The need
grew stronger as her body felt cold and painful. Terse jerking she felt a warm
wetness on her shoulder, her arm. Madly her eyes snapped open back to the
purple haze of the night that she fell so deeply in love with. Focusing hard she glimpsed up to see Rawlo,
clawing hard into her body with his own hands, only they were not hands. Gazing, Rose saw he possessed a badly
misshapen pair of claws. His skin was no
longer black, but scaled over green.
Rawlo’s face twisted and stretched, baring fangs along crooked teeth, he
was growing a snout. Even worse was his
eyes, they grew small and were blacked over.
His body reeked of a foulness that killed any scent which could have
been human about him. Rose stood,
falling with her hip on the tiny table, she felt for anything she could with
her free arm. Struggling, wanting to
scream she was lost in a hotbed of panic and fear, but she instinctively wanted
the pain to stop and fend off Rawlo. Her
hand gripped only one of the cleaned rib bones she had eaten earlier. The bone felt heavy enough in her hand that
she could at least hit him off of her, when she remembered. As a
child her brother always taught her how to be tough and fight back other mean
children. Asking where best to hit
someone, her brother always told her, “Hit ‘em in the eyes Rose.” Mimicking a knife handle, Rose swung high
and then back down into whatever resembled Rawlo’s eye. The dull and narrow point of the rib bone
burst his eye open like a rotten plum. Gelatinous blood and watery plasma
popped from his socket in every direction.
The wailing scream he now made was not that of a man but of an unknown
creature. Tumbling backwards with pain,
his deformed legs tripped on and overturned chair, his torso twisted and he
fell face first onto the floor. The
weight of his engorged head propped up with the bone against the floor caused
it to spear violently through his skull dropping him dead on impact.
Rose glanced around her with panic
as she saw many of the people transform into reptilian creatures. Some resembling alligators or spiders, others
became serpentine. One such was Honeykin
whom she saw now possessing snakeskin, wrapping her elongated body around a
hapless young man, squeezing him blue.
Her hair fallen from her head which now glanced narrow, she looked
directly at Rose and spit a forked tongue in her direction. The terror and fear struck her with a chill
that only the pain from her wound could overrule. She turned back towards the entrance and
broke for it, glancing all the way at the people being ripped or eaten. Making it outside, her only instinct was to
run down the road she had come in on. Breaking for it again was the option once
more, but was halted by a painful grab.
She came face to face with Con. A
triangular jaw jutted down from his face as his eyes peeled back red and his
skin began to curdle with scales while a slender tail broke free out the back
of his pants. He still resembled a man,
but to Rose the only other thing he could have been was a lizard.
“Missssss Roooosseeee.” he croaked.
“Oh Gawd,” she screamed. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Caausssse you woulda tasssstee
goooood.” he hissed.
Rose tried like mad to fight his
grip and she struggled with it all. She felt the overpowering muscles he had,
take over. Her body was almost frozen
with fear and she could have very well been going into shock, when searing pain
hit her leg. She didn’t need to glance,
but felt it. The hot sizzle of the
barbecue pit had burned her leg. The painful burn snapped her into reality,
away from submission. At that moment
Con’s grip briefly weakened as his body broke into that of a malformed
lizard. Seizing the momentum, Rose
struggled free and spied the grill and reached grabbing a barbecue fork that
rested near the coals. She turned around
in time to see his tongue slither out towards her face as she thrust upward with
the fork. It pierced his tongue and she
pulled hard on it. The heated fork
ripped part of his tongue off and he hissed with pain. Greenish blood water spewed forth as he
stumbled on her. She felt the
weightlessness of his attack in her arms as she mustered her whole strength in
flinging him towards the barbecue. Con
fell onto the still hot grill and jumped off it, catching part of his tail
within the griddle bars. He pulled at
his tail with reckless fury feeling each passing second of the heat against his
scaled skin. Rose was quick to stab him
in the back with the fork. She stabbed and plunged the fork as she hard as she
could, gaping wounds on his cruel body.
Finally, Con broke his tail free.
Staggering and bleeding he gurgled blood trying to hiss towards
her. The choking was too much as he fell
over dead, drowned on his own foul blood.
Rose threw down the fork and broke for it. Down the road and into the night Rose felt
safer to stop as she looked back incessantly, seeing no creature, no human, and
no light on her. She felt forever
violated as she staunched her bleeding with her free hand. Running away into the night, the shining moon
beaming off the black water of the river kept everything in a blue haze. Wiping back tears of indifference and pain
from her evening of terror, she continued onward. She continued north.
