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Chapter 19:- Chapter 19
The man walks up to Connie. Connie, who is covered in blood. There is a larger difference now, between what is truly there and what Connie sees. Connie sees David chatting with a cartoon frog to her left. David says, “tea?” to the frog and the frog nods. It seems like David is having a wonderful time. Connie smiles.
David is actually miles away at the edge of a mud bog, bleeding into the bog. The bog wants David, wants what he has got inside of him. The bog sucks: sssssssssssskkkkkkkkkkk. David makes no noise as though he has lost his voice box in a place far away and does not hope to get it back. There are frogs around, but they are yellow, three-eyed, fourteen legged, resembling wet spiders. David coughs up blood. The bog sucks. And sucks.
Connie asks the man if this is what he wanted, and holds out the severed head. It is as though the world is a dream sequence of some kind, where Connie knows and does not quite know what she is holding. Sometimes, she is holding a balloon. Other times, it changes to a kitten or a blue marble. There are flashes of blood on her hands, but only flashes, easy to dismiss.
“Connie, you are such a good pansy flower,” says the man, giggling. Connie hears a horsey laugh, aheeehaw aheeehaw. It is not frightening, but still odd. If you or I had heard his laugh, however, you would have hidden under your beds or shoved razors in your ears.
“Connie, thank you,” he says. “But you are not done yet and you must hurry.”
Connie seems puzzled at this. Hurry? But David seemed so happy here, gulping tea with bright cartoon animals. He seemed safe. This was a good place.
She is looking at the space where David is but is not. The man puts his long arm around her shoulders.
“Connie, David is still frightened. You know what it is to be frightened. Your mother did as well.”
Connie pauses. Her mother? How did this man know her mother? She cannot remember past five minutes ago, her head is muddled and dark. What was wrong with her?
“Do this. Quickly. Or…” Suddenly, Connie’s memory is flooded with images of her father on top of her, thumping, his saliva falling in her face. Her tiny body tensed and flat. Her father is telling her that she “likes it.” Her father is thumping, it seems, for hours. Her father is leaving her. Her father is stepping from the bed where she is naked and squinting her eyes closed, still. Her father is always leaving her.
When she opens her eyes, she is in Mrs. Erick’s home again. The blood is no longer covering the floor and cabinets and she is clean as well.
The hardest part of the journey seems to be the remembering and the knowledge that all was not what it seemed and that at the time she did not have the tenacity to overcome the man’s will.
She knows, now, that David was not there at all. That the thing on the rock was just a ghost of David. That she has no idea where the real David is, but that she truly must hurry. Always in the world with the black moon is that incessant sucking sound and soon, she knows, it will suck everyone inside of it that stays overlong.
It is easy in these moments for her to think that perhaps a hallucination is just a hallucination. That Mrs. Erick is just late from getting home from her hair appointment. She waits, sitting upright in bed, until 3am before she falls asleep, dreamless.
The man walks up to Connie. Connie, who is covered in blood. There is a larger difference now, between what is truly there and what Connie sees. Connie sees David chatting with a cartoon frog to her left. David says, “tea?” to the frog and the frog nods. It seems like David is having a wonderful time. Connie smiles.
David is actually miles away at the edge of a mud bog, bleeding into the bog. The bog wants David, wants what he has got inside of him. The bog sucks: sssssssssssskkkkkkkkkkk. David makes no noise as though he has lost his voice box in a place far away and does not hope to get it back. There are frogs around, but they are yellow, three-eyed, fourteen legged, resembling wet spiders. David coughs up blood. The bog sucks. And sucks.
Connie asks the man if this is what he wanted, and holds out the severed head. It is as though the world is a dream sequence of some kind, where Connie knows and does not quite know what she is holding. Sometimes, she is holding a balloon. Other times, it changes to a kitten or a blue marble. There are flashes of blood on her hands, but only flashes, easy to dismiss.
“Connie, you are such a good pansy flower,” says the man, giggling. Connie hears a horsey laugh, aheeehaw aheeehaw. It is not frightening, but still odd. If you or I had heard his laugh, however, you would have hidden under your beds or shoved razors in your ears.
“Connie, thank you,” he says. “But you are not done yet and you must hurry.”
Connie seems puzzled at this. Hurry? But David seemed so happy here, gulping tea with bright cartoon animals. He seemed safe. This was a good place.
She is looking at the space where David is but is not. The man puts his long arm around her shoulders.
“Connie, David is still frightened. You know what it is to be frightened. Your mother did as well.”
Connie pauses. Her mother? How did this man know her mother? She cannot remember past five minutes ago, her head is muddled and dark. What was wrong with her?
“Do this. Quickly. Or…” Suddenly, Connie’s memory is flooded with images of her father on top of her, thumping, his saliva falling in her face. Her tiny body tensed and flat. Her father is telling her that she “likes it.” Her father is thumping, it seems, for hours. Her father is leaving her. Her father is stepping from the bed where she is naked and squinting her eyes closed, still. Her father is always leaving her.
When she opens her eyes, she is in Mrs. Erick’s home again. The blood is no longer covering the floor and cabinets and she is clean as well.
The hardest part of the journey seems to be the remembering and the knowledge that all was not what it seemed and that at the time she did not have the tenacity to overcome the man’s will.
She knows, now, that David was not there at all. That the thing on the rock was just a ghost of David. That she has no idea where the real David is, but that she truly must hurry. Always in the world with the black moon is that incessant sucking sound and soon, she knows, it will suck everyone inside of it that stays overlong.
It is easy in these moments for her to think that perhaps a hallucination is just a hallucination. That Mrs. Erick is just late from getting home from her hair appointment. She waits, sitting upright in bed, until 3am before she falls asleep, dreamless.
