Marcello’s Revenge – Chapter 10 – Mustard Seed on Mars

Here is the last chapter of Part I of Marcello’s Revenge. This will conclude my postings of the novel. I am working on part two and hope to have it finished by the end of the year. I hope you enjoyed it and thank you very much for reading it. Feel free to comment as feedback is always welcome and appreciated. You can find all the chapters:

HERE

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I was in the common room of the Galloway Treatment Center. A large spacious area with rows of plastic folding tables with benches, and chairs lined up by large windows for their clients to enjoy the scenery. It was, all in all, a dining area, but called the common room as people would socialize there, play games, meet guests or family members, or just spend some time to themselves reading. There are no televisions in Galloway, but there is a centralized radio with speakers mounted in the ceiling of the common room and in the hallways, and over it The Circle Game was playing at a low volume.

A bright, nearly blinding white light caused by the morning sun reflecting off of the newly fallen snow and white clouds hanging heavy in the sky illuminated the room. There was only one occupant, an elderly woman I guessed from her short gray hair, sitting in an Adirondack chair, looking out a window with her back to me. I approached her, and at reaching her side found it to be Sophia. Her face was youthful, smooth and lovely as when we were just married, but her hands were wrinkled and marked with liver spots and thick blue veins, as aged as her hair. A plaid, woolen blanket covered her from the waist down, though it was quite warm in the room.

Marcello’s Revenge – Chapter 8 – Julie and the Alligator Man – Part II

Here is the second part of Marcello’s Revenge Chapter 8. I began it with the last line of my previous post for reference. Other installments can be found:

HERE

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“Well,” Francine said turning to Julie, “will you tell us what happened? You don’t know who it was that murdered Matt, do you?”

“No,” Julie replied looking down into her empty coffee cup.

“Perhaps Julie would like to have a little time, love.”

“Yes, you are quite correct, Robin. I am sorry Julie. That was terribly rude of me. It was such a terrible event, and I was just so excited for any news. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind. It’s ok. It might even be nice to talk about it to someone, and I don’t know who else I would be able to tell. I don’t know who the murderer was. There were four men, but only one did it. The rest just stood around. All of them in long black robes, like the kind you see kids wear at graduation. And they all had animal masks on.”

“Animal masks?” Francine asked.

“Yes, plastic animal masks. There was a lion, a bird, a pig and an alligator. And they also had hoods on so that their hair was covered. All I could make out were their shoes. And one of them had a gold watch.”

“Why did you go down to the basement? Did they bring you down there?” I asked.

“No. Matt said he had to meet someone down there.”

“Do you know who?”

“Only that it was supposed to be a guy named John. I thought it was his supply guy or something.”

“How do you know his name is John?”

“Because that is the name Matt used when we got to the room. We came in and there were three guys…”

“I thought you said there were four?” Francine said.

“I did. Hold on a minute. So we came in and there were these three guys. One of them stood near the door and closed it after we were in. He was wearing the bird mask. Then Matt said ‘What the fuck is this shit, John? Who are these guys?’ Kind of laughing, but I could tell he was a little nervous. The guy in the lion mask said ‘Shut up and get over here.’ You could tell he was trying to disguise his voice. Making it all gravely and rough. Matt walked over, confident, like nothing was really wrong. He went right up to the lion man and said ‘Who the fuck are you? Where is John?’ Then the lion man drew a gun from his robes and pointed it at Matt. ‘Shut the hell up, and stand right there.’ Matt backed up against the pool table. ‘You girl, come over here and stand here next him,’ the lion man said to me. And I did. Then the door to the bathroom opened and out walked the fourth masked man. He had the alligator mask. All he said was ‘Turn around’. And we did.” She stopped. “I’m sorry, but could I have another one of those?” she asked, and after I passed the pack to her, she took a smoke out and drew a deep breath before lighting it. Fresh smoke curled and twisted in front of her face.

Marcello’s Revenge – Chapter 8 – Julie and The Alligator Man – Part I

Here is part one of chapter 8 of Marcello’s Revenge. A chapter I am not altogether satisfied with, to tell the truth. A necessary installment, but one I think rushes the narrative a bit. Though I am a bit undecided on how to edit and in an attempt to qualify Julie’s ease with Robin and her willingness to divulge information, I have attempted to rectify this, but feel more is needed, and perhaps a complete rewrite depending on the course of the narrative as it develops. I think it will eventually come down to it, but at this point am hesitant until I am more aware of the course it takes. But anyway, for those who enjoy long reads and have been following the story thus far, here is the first part. Hope you enjoy  and thank you for reading.

Earlier installments can be found:

HERE

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 Julie was in the shadows, between the light that spilled out of the open bedroom door and that which filled the front room. There was a heavy awkwardness, her schuncy eyes staring at me and the highball glass I carried where the unserviceable remnants of ice cubes and the pimpled green skin of a lime wedge gleamed. “Good morning,” I said in an attempt to ease the uncomfortable tension.

“Morning,” She said hesitantly, looking around and noting the location of the front door. “Where am I?”

“My house.”

“And who are you?”

“My name is Robin Mentor. And you are Julie Stills, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right. How did I get here?”

“Francine and I brought you. She is the one who took you from the party out to our car. Oh, it was also she who got you ready for bed when we got here. If you should have had any concerns.”

“Who’s Francine?”

“My girlfriend.”

Coffee and Crakers – A Short Story

“We are out of time and out of rice.”

“It’s no problem. I’ll just run out to the store.”

“No. No. It is a missed opportunity. The kids will be awake soon. And anyway my apron needs a washing.”

“You have at least a dozen aprons. Are they all in the laundry?”

“You are hopeless. We will never understand one another.”

“That’s true. We are too alike, perhaps. I didn’t really want to go to the store anyway.”

“Well at least the coffee is done brewing. We have that still don’t we? Would you like a cup? I have some fresh cream. And cherries.”

“Cherries just are not the same to me anymore. But I will take some coffee. Black please.”

He goes to the cupboard that smells of nutmeg. There is sugar and a loaf of bread, but he takes some crackers. They are dry and salty. She is thinking to herself, and it shows in the wrinkles by her eyes. Suddenly there is a knock on the door.

“Don’t answer it. I don’t think I can handle the news.”

“But what if it is only the postman trying to deliver a package?”

“Then he can leave a note.”

“But that is rather silly, isn’t it? I am sure he knows we are home.”

“It’s not the postman, and you know it.”

“I don’t care. I just want to drink my coffee and eat my crackers.”

“They will make you fat, you know.”

“Which one?”

“The hell with you. And that damn knocking. Fuck it. I am going to answer it. I cannot go back to sleep with all the coffee and excitement.”

“It is good to confront your fears. They help you to grow.”

“Fear keeps us safe, and makes us cowards. You more so than others. If you owned any type of bravery you would be the one answering the door.”

“But no longer be a coward. It would ruin your opinion of me, and then what would I be?”

“I don’t know. Something. Which is at least better than what you are now.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

She answers the door and it is James. He shuffles his feet and will not meet her eyes, stumbling about with his words like a madman, trying to find the most delicate way to speak with her. It was his fault, he says, or she translates from the confusing jumble.

“James, please.”

“But…my wife…kids, they are everything to me. Please, you must know. How do I put it? I have been a wreck. I can’t sleep with her anymore. I am on the couch. There is a TV nearby so I watch commercials at two in the morning. I feel like I am drowning.,,”

“James, seriously. You sound drunk. Are you? No, don’t answer. I don’t really care. But you are embarrassing yourself. This is all too much, and is an awful bore. I have nothing to say to you. Go find yourself a gentle patch of grass and watch the trees grow for a while. That might give you some perspective.”

“Is Daniel home? Can I talk to him?”

“Oh yes, he is, but he will not want to speak with you. He is busy, you see, with crackers and coffee.”

“Well, will you tell him I am sorry?”

“No. Oh, I mean I am sure he heard the whole thing and is very indifferent to the affair. He means to paint, and is entirely wrapped up in that endeavor. This leaves him no time for the citizens of this world, like us, dangling by our knitting and our frailties. Now please, go away. I cannot take too much more of this. Come back to me, when your mind is right.”

“But..I…Oh, Helen, please. I…”

“Goodbye James.”

She closes the door and walks back to the dining room. Daniel has finished his crackers and is sipping his coffee softly watching the light on the grass, admiring the shades of yellow.

“I am not painting. Or even thinking of doing so. Why say such a thing?”

“James is threatened by you. He feels you are superior to him so I play to this indulgence of his.”

“An interesting tactic. What do you hope to gain from him?”

“Compassion. And he bears it. The poor fool. He feeds me his compassion and I drain him of it so soon he will be nothing but a cocoon with a rotting caterpillar inside. Oh, don’t look at me that way. What you have done is worse by far.”

“And what is that?”

“Destroyed me. I watch the kids sometimes. I love them. But I watch them as if I were outside myself, with my eyes vacant and my heart empty. No feeling. And it is because I am no longer here. And the pity is they don’t know it. They hug me and cannot feel the cold corpse that I am. It is funny. I thought about suicide, you know. Seriously considered it. But I knew that it would mean nothing. That here, now, I am dead. A void of life that can only look to others to destroy in turn.”

“And you blame me for this?”

“For everything.”

“Then why stay?”

“Because you do. You stay and it gives me the opportunity to kill you.”

“Love. Blind and fruitless.”

“And why do you stay?”

“I suppose it is due to the fact there is nothing else out there. Where would I go? It would all be the same and pointless.”

“There is Jenny. I better start breakfast for her.”

Marcello’s Revenge – Chapter 7: Baptism by Moonlight Part 2

And here is the second part to Chapter 7 of Marcello’s Revenge. For all previous installments please go here:

https://marcellosrevenge.wordpress.com/marcellos-revenge/

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“For one thing,” Francine began, “the bank did not go down to the storm drain as you said. If you went all the way down the hill you would have found a dry creek bed. But it curves away from the Periwinkle’s and the storm drain area. It does, however, end at the lake emptying in a small ravine with a lot of rocks and tall standing weeds. Luckily, the weather has been dry, or it would have been really miserable and muddy.

“And it was dark. Terribly dark. And you sent me out there without a flashlight. With what little light the moon provided, though, I was able to make it down to the water. But Julie would not go in. I told her to just go out and splash around a bit, and if she was in her right mind she may have. She wasn’t though. Just as you said, she was completely incoherent, and just stood looking out over the inky black water.

“So then I had to make a decision. To go back up the hill and trust my luck, or to lead her into the lake and get her washed up. I decided on the latter, but was concerned about my clothes getting wet. How would I explain that when I got back to the house? I thought of texting you, but wasn’t sure if that would be a good idea. So I didn’t. Instead I removed my dress and hose and placed them in as clean and as dry a place that I could manage to find. And then took her by the hand and went out into the lake.

Marcello’s Revenge – Chapter 7: Baptism by Moonlight Part 1

Here is the first part of chapter 7 of Marcello’s Revenge. Part 2 will follow in the near future. The list for all installments and chapters can be found here:

https://marcellosrevenge.wordpress.com/marcellos-revenge/

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Julie is an attractive girl, around the same height as Francine, and, though thinner, pleasantly filled out the pajamas she wore with slender hips and shapely breasts. She has a sharp, angular nose, however, which distinctly contrasts with her pouty lips, and so when she scrunched her eyes at me that morning, standing as she was at the edge of the hall, it only served to further distort her features. Yet even with her confused face wrinkled like a distastefully aging lemon, her appearance that morning was a refreshing change to how she appeared the night before when she had to be guided about, moving in a trance-like manner with a dazed and glassy look. I took hold of her hand and got her to her feet, moving quickly to the door to the outside. After checking to make sure no one was outside, I led her away from the house in as casual and stealthy a manner as possible. The band had stopped playing and other than the distant sound of droning voices from the front lawn, as well as that of our own soft footfalls, everything was quiet. There was an unnaturalness about, lingering somewhere in the dark and the murmuring silence, a stifling heaviness, and I longed for a cricket’s chirp or the croak of a frog, but only the vague light of a half-moon low on the horizon was offered to ease my discomfort. I took her a little way down the hill and sat her amid a few trees that ran along the border of the Periwinkle property. Looking her in the eyes I told her to stay there for just a little while, then turned and went back to the house.

Once back inside, I heard Francine calling my name, which was good since it saved me from calling her as I was about to do. The current situation I was in demanded that I enlist help. I rushed and exited the rec room, shutting the door quickly behind me. She stood just inside the lounge, and, hearing me close the door, turned around to see me breathlessly smiling at her bewildered expression.

“Dearest! There you are. I was worried for a second. Are you feeling better?” she asked.

“Yes, darling, much better thanks.” And surprisingly I was, noticing just then that the pain and fuzziness brought about earlier by my condition was completely gone. “Listen, there is something I need you tell you,” I said in a hushed tone.

“What is it?” she whispered, following my lead.

“Matt has been murdered.”

The Deerfields – A Short Story

In time the Deerfields would come to feel more at home there. It was a lovely place with bright curtains and a white wrought iron table in the breakfast nook. The light on the flowerless blue vase, though, caused Lynn to cry and flee to the hollow darkness of a walk in closet. Dan coughed and let out a little chuckle. He nervously explained that the stress had been too much on Lynn, who was prone to emotional outbursts. The smaller child, Marla, stood partially behind him, clenching the back right leg of her father’s trousers. She was shielding herself from The Administrant, a short, thin man with a yellow and blue polka dot tie and thick fingers. He acknowledged Dan’s explanation with a curt yes. With his work complete, The Administrant handed Dan the keys, and reminded him that copies of all the documents were left on the desk in the study with the official ones to come by courier service in four to six weeks. His shoes did not make a sound as he left, and the door was shut with the sound of a barely audible click.