by H. Caswell
Mildred, became an even more, angry woman; who never married again. And to her son, who, was a part of this; disgusting act, her anger, and fury; delivered continuously; never allowing Alfred … ever; to feel good about himself … again.
Mildred’s abuse; became a daily ritual. She would drag her son by his blonde hair; down beneath the family home. In the cold, damp, dark place, she would tie Alfred to a post. Tearing off his shirt; she would whip him with a leather strap. Blood eased, from the slashes; his skin burned; still he would not, cry. She swore“If … THIS … is the LAST thing I do on this EARTH … I will … beat the devil … from within YOUR PATHETIC … body.” Night … after night … Mildred, tried with everything she had, to break her son. Her body growing limp; after each beating; Alfred, would never permit; not one tear or scream; somehow; he became enthused, by his mother’s ‘trials. Mildred, lost hope, and the will, to continue.
The blonde woman, from that night of terror, returned to the psychiatric hospital; where she had come. Apparently; nothing ever came from her. And if it had; nobody would have; ever believe her, anyway. Mildred Kept her promise she spoke not a word; of that night, to anyone. People would ask; Thomas’s, where about; his presences certainly missed; to the city folks. Mildred, would only offer; he had taken a job across seas; his return, unknown. Life in their home; resumed as it was to be, as Alfred, continued his secret addiction, with; electro- therapy; unannounced to Mildred or anyone; until he had confessed the interest; to his, professor.
Alfred, quietly sitting; while reminiscing, of his father; while gazing out at the people, rushing through the pouring rain. Loud thunder, cracking; through the skies. Alfred reaches into his worn leather sash, and retrieves his pipe and tobacco. He lounges back; pipe gripped between his teeth, and smirks as the sweet cherry scent; fills the air. His silhouette in the window; reminds him; of his fine well-established bank account. He, now just over twenty-five; can enjoy what he has planned. Alfred stands and stretches his long; slender legs. His stride, is slow and meticulous; as he reaches the front desk, of where the librarian should be. He looks around; nobody there. It matters not to himself; he finds what he is looking for… ‘The Daily newspaper.’ His nose pressed in the paper; he does not notice the woman behind him; as he bumps into her. ‘A sigh, he releases’ …The daunting task,of having to acknowledge the person in front of him ‘he slowly looks up over;the paper’his sky blue eyes, hidden behind his black rimmed glasses, he witness a broad; dark-haired woman; dressed in black plain,dress‘He stifles a laugh’ as the sight of her face, externally significant, appears to him. The dark circles; surround; small, blacken, mysterious yet evil, eyes. The odor of the cigarettes, she smokes, lingers; upon her skin. Her jet black hair; placed in a bun; atop of her head. ‘He looks her up and down’ while he witnesses her obese body. There is no distinction between her calves and ankles. Her feet, bulge out of the black, and white leather saddle shoes. Gripping his pipe harderbetween his teeth, ‘trying to control a burst of laughter’ he apologies to the woman; “Pardon me Miss … I am terribly,sorry.”‘Raising the paper to his view once more’ he excuses himself. Alfred begins to walk away. She asks him ‘in a stern and breathless; lowvoice “Excuse me Sir … do you happen to know where I may find … the librarian?” Alfred looks to his right, and nods, to the isle ahead ‘Lifting the paper once more to his sight’ he returns, to his table. Classified section, the only interest he, inquires. Searching the columns; ‘Land for Sale.’ Many ads, of small pieces located just outside of the city. Alfred thinks to himself, ‘none of these will ever … work’. NO … he requires; larger; very private, yes, and … extraordinary. ‘My plan simply … will not do … in the proximity …of the local activity.’ Since his father’s departure from the family home; Alfred has dreamed of the day, he would create a masterpiece; to honor his predominant father’s legacy. His fathers’ influence, was greatly impressionable; upon a fifteen-year lad. And, Thomas, had highly underestimated the effects of his teachings. Mildred, his mother; certainly was clueless in all the activities, father had given Alfred, or the achievement Alfred, had accomplished; by his grandest act, of overpowering Thomas. After all, it was, Alfred, who had twisted Thomas, into a sexual killing experiment. Had Mildred known how many experiments they performed, and how many women; had fallen victim to Thomas and Alfred; she may have ended inside the State Institution years ago, herself? The demise of Thomas’s failures, was easily due to the lack of intelligence in seeking out a proper facility, and the wretched woman; he called … his wife. Alfred often pondered why his father had not ridden, himself, of that woman. His incompetence; kept him astray of achieving his greatness. Alfred places his pipe upon the table, reclines back in his chair, and stares out the window. A smirk; emerges upon his thin lips. ‘The failures of his father; would not be his, as well.' No, Alfred, has planned his greatness, for years. With his mother now tucked carefully away in the states care, and highly medicated; due to the continual amitriptyline’s side effects. Yes, Alfred, became ingenious of administering a heavy dose, in his dear mother's; evening tea. Two tiny green pills, a night, and Mildred would receive the most horrifying; visions. Alfred, found much pleasure, in his mother’s psychosis; on a regular basis. The simple act; of opening the front doors; on a mid-winter's night, and Mildred, running out into the streets; ripping her clothing off; simply … masterful. ‘Alfred’s grin becomes wider, as he allows that evening’s entertainment, to play out in his mind’ …
The lights, all turning on, as the neighborhood comes stumbling, out of their homes. The swirling snow and howling wind; sweeping the streets. Mildred, screaming of monsters and crawling creatures; upon her body. Clawing her skin; drawing blood, as she tries to remove the, invisible. Sirens and flashing lights, as the black and white cruisers came rushing in. Police, standing back; guns drawn; as they hide behind the doors of their cars. The headlights, shining, his mother’s act. Alfred, takes all this in, from the third story window. The grand finale, the white raised roof station wagon, and red light; now entering, the circle of commotion. To Alfred’s delight, the men in white, here to retrieve his, beloved mother, as they tackle the woman to the snow covered ground, trying to place a straitjacket on poor, Mildred. The longing, Alfred, so wants to witness the moment, but, catches the movement, on his front steps. The police, coming, to wake him. Alfred, preforms a well-played out act. The officers take his statement,“It is horrible … the year’s long enfeebled condition, of my poor, sick … mother.” Alfred, recites the well - thought out performance; he has constructed, within his mind. He convinces the police of his endless caring and trying to help his poor, poor, Mother. Alfred ever so carefully; even allows, a few tears; to drift softly down his cheeks, as he speaks of his mother’s endless mental battles.“I worked so hard … you see … to Help … my poor mother. Why … with Father, gone … I just … could do so much … for the …poor woman.” The police, anguish; over Alfred’s stories, and of course, commend Alfred“Alfred, son … you have endured … so much with your … mother. You have given her … loving, nurturing, care. It … is best now … she comes with us.” Alfred stands in his front doors abroad, as they drive away. Lighting his pipe, tight-lipped, as a slight smirk; showing in the corners of his mouth, he, at last, is … free.
A bit of commotion; snaps Alfred, back from his delight. He gazes across the long room. The evening ambiance, lingering now, in the room. The enormous chandeliers, brightening, as the sun sets. The disturbance; coming from the enlarge woman he unfortunately, encountered. Alfred watches as she squats down; picking up the books that had toppled to the floorhis mind speaks, ‘yet another … whose life should be … ended. A waste … of existence’ He looks about the room; himself, the last present. Understanding closing time is nearing, Alfred, collects his books of study, and carefully replaces them; back to their rightful place; returns to his table, he begins to fold the paper carefully, when a small ad; appears to him. Small deserted Island for Sale, call 347-255-7676 inquire
with George Wright. Pulling his pocket watch from his green and yellow plaid trousers, the time reads, five minutes, to eight, he thinks to himself … ‘too late for a call at this hour.’ Tucking the paper carefully under his arm, Alfred, makes his way to the front desk. He bears witness once more, to the profound, massive set, woman; placing books in their, proper place. He looks about; noticing the befriended librarian, is not present. He places the paper upon the desk and proceeds to push the book cart down the aisle; behind, where the woman is working. Alfred, enjoys retrieving the mindset; of those who come into this establishment. He is curious, of the materials they browse through. He has become quite amused; in his findings. He has yet, to come; across any person; worth considering, intelligent. Surprisingly, he is startled by the woman’s presence ‘as he turns from the book cart, to the H section’ Alfred, a bit curious of her, persona. Her mumblings of words, as she places the books, in their rightful place. It is most peculiar, to witness; another having the same process during book replacement. It is odd, to himself, to indulge in the delight of another, who is mindfully, collecting intelligent information, of another’s education. He carefully ponders the question of engaging into a conversation with this, woman. The consideration; taken upon from her herself; as she bellows out her name, “Claire … My name … is, Claire … sir, ‘her eyes glaring at Alfred’ and I kindly ask you … to Stop … observing me." Oddly, Alfred is a bit confused, with her reaction, and swiftly, resumes his gaze, upon the book in hand. As he begins to slide the book; carefully; between two books, in the slotted spot; Claire proceeds to explain to Alfred, how dissatisfied she is, with the intellectual demands; of these persons, who believe they are learning a masterful writing skill of horror.“Nathaniel Hawthorn … ‘she smirks’ I think not;sir; ‘ turning, directly looking at, Alfred’ he is … a clever minded soul,‘she snickers’ using his writing … for fondling; religious beliefs. I have … no use for that. His … The Scarlet Letter; ‘raising the book up off the cart’ I … sir, see a man … in Dire … need of coming forth with‘her smirk wider’ his … sex…ua..l …tendancies; ‘her eyes squint;playfully’ or did he? Perhaps … the secret message,‘placing the book down on a pile of others’ is of himself and the religious fear… ‘her grin;wide’ of… telling the truth. Good,‘she shrugs’ but … no intellect thought. After all… ‘with a bit of laughter’ he assumes the identity … of all his fellow people. His work … ‘Claire’s voice; deeper; as if annoyed’ repeatedly hidden secrets … of life HE … wishes to lead. NO … NO! A true master …‘pointing; her middle figure, upward’ would lead the life … he chooses ‘ her voive raised with excitement’ and stir… the SHIT … pot! The one I say, ‘as she turns back to the bookcase; replacing a book’ would be most … inspiring … and clever …in his mind, ‘her voice excited’ Edger … Allen… Poe!” ‘Her; voice raised a bit in tone, almost with a laugh’ “Oh yes! His mind is…twisted.Claire spins around; looking at Alfred once again, her eyes gleam; in energy. A very educated lad … you know and … high statue. With an indulging mind; Such as MYSELF…’ she giggles’ of just the … right reader … and a profound need … for great literature … who knows … ‘shrugging again’ the horror … that could be set forth … uponthis nation." Alfred, gazes at this insightful; yet baring woman. For the first time, since his father’s departure; Alfred, has found a mind worth paying attention to, indeed. A female with spoken words, you only hear; in a bar, full of … drunken men. Curiosity, takes hold of Alfred. He finds himself; needing conversation, with Claire. Wanting to know more … about … her mind; needing to understand; what makes this … barbaric … woman; tick. By the end of the evening, Alfred, finds himself; inviting Claire to coffee,at a local shop downtown. “You have fancied … my curiosity … Claire, and would very much like to indulge … in … your mind."
Claire engages the offer; she too, curious of Alfred; as well. She finds him; oddly, fascinating. Both set out … into the night.
Chapter 3
The aroma of freshly brewed; coffee and homemade apple pie; linger in the small mom and pops coffee house. An old man sits alone, on the last stool, in the rear corner of the counter. His cigar; nudged in the frail corner of his mouth. His wrinkled eyes; squinting, through the thick, smoke, an eagerness to see, through his aged; sight, as he reads the paper. A silver-haired woman, dressed in a baby pink smock, and white apron; leans over the counter; adding to the old man’s; half, sipped, cup. A piece of half- eaten pie, sits beside a gray plaid brimmed hat. The clanking of dishes’ echoes, from the back.
Alfred, escorts Claire to the center booth; along the glass windows. The well-aged; elderly woman; carries two white, thick, ceramic cups and a full pot, of coffee, to their table. The woman’s weaken hands; shake slightly, from the weight of her duties. Alfred, reaches out, and helps to place the cups down, on the table. The coffee poured; Alfred gestures, for not one piece of the pie, but, two. The woman gives Alfred approved, but, somewhat, curious smile.
The elderly lady, has been serving Alfred; since he was a tiny young lad; coming here, with his father; every Sunday evening after church. Thomas, found the pie, and coffee here; outstanding. The coffee house; holds many fond memories, of his father. Alfred, has honored their Sunday tradition, since his father’s departure. Alfred, even still attends Sunday evening service; not for worship, but to observe, the happenings of the people who visit. Then he finds himself, in this very same booth, now, not in conversation with his father, but a notepad and pen. He writes of his observations each Sunday. Every detail, he recalls. Who continually attends weekly, and who does not. He, secretly laughs at the whispers, of the people, who claim to be spiritual. ‘Oh, if Mrs. Jones … only knew, what Mrs. Wellington; truly thought of … her, the entertainment may become … even greater’. Alfred, also observers’ who places tithes or gifts, if you will, as the brass plate, is passed about the room. And those of course, who seek the sermon, and communion; continuously. Alfred, also pays mind to the Minister, and those who cautiously; slide; behind the curtain, to receive their Salvation, from … sin. “For Only THROUGH CHRIST … shall … You be SAVED.” Alfred, himself, has yet to step behind the curtain, or receive the body, and blood, of Christ. Observation, of Alfred’s Sunday attendance throughout these years, has not gone; unnoticed. The Minister,has often asked Alfred “Please … son … receive God …and his son.” Alfred, has as always, refused; politely, and accepted,the Ministers prayer “May the Lord … Guide and protect you. May one day … you find yourself … knocking on his door” Not, because Alfred wants the prayer, or feels he needs; such things. But, because, as Alfred has learned through all these years of research; when you want something, you must give, as, well. So the Minister is allowed to feel he is giving; God, and Jesus healing; to Alfred, and Alfred, obtains his studies.
Alfred watches; as the elderly man tucks his newspaper under his arm; as he places the gray plaid hat, upon his balding head. He makes his way; slowly past the booth; Claire, and Alfred sits. He nods; good- evening, to them, and gives a small smile, to the woman carrying the two plates of pie. Alfred, now knowing; once Mary delivers their order; she will retrieve the dirty cup, and plate from the last customer, and resume her duties, in the back kitchen. Claire and Alfred will be left to their private discussion with no … interruptions. With the plates of warm apple pie; set forth, and coffee refilled; Mary does just as Alfred has known. Alfred, understanding the mind so well; knows the correct question to ask a person, to receive the most information. He sits quiet, for a moment, as Claire indulges herself with the delightful pie. He ponders for a few moments; if he should even seek out the help of, anyone. After all, Alfred, has achieved many significant studies, and his plans; have followed the direction, Alfred has so carefully implemented. But, he, has still not reached a logical scheme; conducted by only, himself. He is fully aware, to proclaim his full potential; he must enable others with, an obscured mind. Claire; just may fit the need. He has decided. In a soft even tone, Alfred asks,�
�Claire … Please tell me about … yourself?” She swallows the last bite of apple pie, and guzzles, her coffee. Taking her napkin; wiping her mouth, she looks at Alfred. Claire senses there is something remarkable; about the man across from her. She begins to confess her life to him, with ease. She sings the stories of her life of sexual abuse from her now … dead … Uncle. “He … suffered,‘as she smiles’ a horrible fall on the …staircase.” Alfred, takes notice of the gleam; in Claire’s eyes, in the mentioning of her Uncles, fall. Claire, unnoticeably continues; her voice, quiet, and methodical as she continues. Her mother; the town whore, and a drunken father; physically abused herself, and her dear brother; Randle. Her voice softened,with the mention of Randle. “He is like my child … the poor … boy. Mother‘her voice raised in anger’ could not keep herself … from delivering her womanhood … to every dick, in town. Because of her ‘Claire stops; momentarily’ Father beat him so … bad ... ly … one night … that it damaged his poor … helpless;brain. He ‘smiling’ lives with me … now. A grown man himself … but the mind of a … twelve-year-old. Oh … I do get intensely angry… and agitated with poor Randle. Hell, I yell at him! Demean him! I suppose ...‘her smile fades to a pout’ my father’s BLOOD … runs thick, with in my … veins. But I do love; Randle. And I take … CARE of him, the BEST … I … can. I had to take that … library job, to make ends means. The boy is gigantic and requires much care. ‘She pauses’ and well, I am no tiny woman ...myself. ‘Grinning’ an epiphany, arises with Alfred. It leads him to ask one more;question. “And … what has become of your …parents?” Claire looks upon Alfred’s face. His expression of understanding her, written without vocal acknowledgment. She is undoubtedly; aware, of what Alfred genuinely is, inquiring.‘Claire; clears her throat and begins her tale’ “Mother … suffered a horrible accident; in her bath; one night … while preparing for another evening of … WHORING. Somehow, a small lamp … upon the washroom sink …slipped,into the tub as she blissfully soaked." ‘Alfred’s eyes widen; as he asks …’ “And your father, what became of …him?"‘His anticipation observed’ Claire presents the answer with such a deviant smile. “Father … well he, of course, consumed far too much of the … whiskey. Often the man drove himself …drunk … around town. Periodically Father enjoyed a ride around the river bed. And one of those drunken river ‘ she, leans in’ nights… his old 1952 Chevy Skyline; break hoses, somehow ‘her grin grows’ broke … free, and the man … appears to have crashed and sank into the river." Alfred, quite aware of the atmosphere, and her willingness, to expel the truth, Claire has kept secret; he awaits. Claire, so eager to express her hidden secrets; looks about the shop. Knowing they are alone; she asks Alfred,in an excited yet confessing voice. “Do you …want to know a secret?” Confidently, Alfred nods yes.‘She whispers’ … “I, did … all those … things. I KILLED … them … all. And I … ENJOYED … every … moment. OH! … The look ‘Claire smiles wide’… on my surprised Uncle … as he felt the SHOVE … from behind. I laughed … as he tumbled down … reaching out to stop … the Enviable. I gleamed … with Excitement … over his mangled, and broken body, at the bottom of the landing. I … was even kind enough … to give him a good swift kick… in his‘her voice excited; yet softens’ FILTHY… balls, if … you know what …I mean.‘She smirks’ my dear … sweet, whoring, mother;‘nodding her head’ Relaxing … with her eyes; closed. I watched her briefly … before whispering her name. OH! Her … panicked eyes … as she witnessed the falling lamp, pushed by her beloved … daughter. Her flailing body,‘she stifles a laugh, behind her napkin’ as the surge … ignited the water. OH! And my dear … bastard; of a FATHER! He … most certainly … suffered the most. Yes, his life could not end abruptly. Not after‘her evil eyes, squint’ the inhumane… beating, he had given to … Randle. … No, NO ... I made him pay; every moment … of his … doom.You see; I added a sedative to his … bottle of whiskey. I poured glass … after glass … for … him. My large size comes in handy, when having to carry a man to his car‘Smiling;easing back in the booth’ Yes sir. I drove us out to the … river he so loved. I beat the man … to inches of his miserable … life, with my grandpa’s … cane. The man could not move a muscle, when I was through with him. ‘Her eyes squint’ I rolled the windows UP … and pushed… that damn car over the embankment. That son, of, a bitch! … Had to sit … and watch… the water rise … slowly; as the Chevy, and himself … sank. I would have adored the site of his terrified; helpless face; as he began to take in the water.‘Her smile widen as she leans forward to Alfred’ only sound; was his endless scream… for mercy. None, the less; I observed his ending up, on the river bank. And before you inquire of how I got away with it. ‘Claire looking smug’ well … I disposed of their … USELESS … bodies. I buried mother, and uncle, in the swamp. Did you know…. a swamp will devour … human remains; as well as cover the smell … of rotting … flesh?” ‘Alfred nods, No’ They, of course … never to be seen again, oh… and‘her hands,crossed in front of her’ poor daddy … Well … he is still at the bottom of that river. Folks would ask the whereabouts of them all. I confessed;‘smirking’ that momma and Uncle …ran off together, and daddy … went to find their… cheating… asses. People felt horrible … and offered their help. But I was seventeen …so old enough; to care for myself…. and Randle. Nobody ever came …investigating.” Claire sits forward with wonder; and whispers to Alfred “What’s … your story?” Alfred pulling his pipe from his sash; gripping it between his teeth, as he lays money upon the table. He looks to Claire … and answers, “Another time.” He excuses himself and leaves Claire; to ponder the evening.
