by A. L. Mengel
The packed cafes that lined the west side of Ocean bustled with the usual Saturday night crowds and activity; rambunctious barflies lined neon-lit clubs and stood around shiny tables overlooking crystalline pools as salsa music wailed over the chaos.
Yes, that was night time on South Beach, away from the cosmopolitan skyscrapers of Miami, far from the quaint serenity of the Coral Gables mansions, and so close to the serenity of the ocean, the darkness of the night sea that reached towards a perfect line; a point in the horizon where the sky met and touched the sea, where the stars shined lower, closer to the earth, where one could take their finger, and point, and even try to touch them.
So close to such calm waters, yet so far.
One could take a moment, stand on the edge of the sand, and drink in the beauty of the night time sky, tune out the thumping music, ignore the expensive cars and celebrities, and pay no attention to the throngs of tourists who were captivated by the people and the places. But there was one woman on South Beach who did not care about the sanctity of the evening sea, nor was she mesmerized by the glitterati; she was not looking at any of the passing celebrities or the showy cars, she didn’t gawk at the fountains or the pink and orange buildings dotted with lights.
She just merely stepped out of a door on Washington Avenue, brushing her red hair away from her face as it caught in the night breeze. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her black leather purse which matched her black leather jacket, and fished out a cigarette. Lighting it she leaned against the building for a moment, taking in the scene.
Approaching her slowly was a group of young men and women walking down the sidewalk, laughing and chatting noisily. They stood out in the crowd to her. She lifted the sunglasses off of her nose to get a better look at the approaching group.
They all looked to be dressed in the finest of clothes; their hair in tight and neat hairstyles, and the labels they were wearing suggested that they did not need of money. She held her stare until she made eye contact with the young man who was closest to the building, and as he approached her, his attention became transfixed on the mysterious woman standing against the building up ahead at the corner.
He did not pay any attention to the conversation that his friends were having which was filled with intermittent roaring laughter. He was drawn to the woman.
And then, when the group had reached the corner he disappeared into the building. His friends continued chatting and crossed the street, completely unaware that he wasn’t with them anymore.
The door shut silently.
Inside the building they were in total blackness, except for the light of a solitary candle which sat on a table just inside the entryway.
The cherry red tip of her cigarette glowed, indicating she was still there. She tossed her cigarette on the floor, snubbed it out with her foot, exhaling a stream of smoke in the man’s face. He coughed.
She did not hesitate as a spiny grey fingers ripped at the man’s throat, sending a spray of blood throughout the foyer, coating the candle but failing to extinguish it.
The man clutched his throat and fell to the floor on his knees, his wide eyes staring up at his assailant. There was no longer a beautiful, mysterious red-haired woman.
He tried to scream but couldn’t, choking on the blood that was quickly filling his mouth and lungs. The bright red liquid oozed from his mouth. The monster stepped into the faint glow of the candle light. And he cowered and screamed, falling backwards, his feet slipping in the oozing lake. He still clutched his neck as he fell on his back.
The look in the man’s eyes – the forehead skin wrinkled up and the eyes wide open; the white iris pronounced and open; the eyes locked and trained on the monster. As the grey scaly arm reached down and lifted him up, and tossed his body against the wall as his eyes remained open, and his eyes remained transfixed on the demon; his body was slowly draining itself of blood and dying, as he felt himself slipping away. The arm picked him up again and pinned him against the wall, screaming to him, over and over, with fury of pure evil sending forth whispers of the forsaken.
“I have forsaken my maker!” The demon screamed again, as she pinned the man against the wall one last time, the grey cement now splattered with fresh blood. “I have forsaken him!”
The monster’s free arm swung up and decapitated the man, sending a shower of blood in the room. The body dropped to the floor, convulsing and writhing.
The beast stood above the body as it lay in the lake of blood, dying, as the flame on the candle grew; the flame grew and felt its way across the foyer, dancing above the body, creating a warm glow and golden aura.
“I have forsaken my maker,” it said, once again, now much quieter, calmer, and with more clarity.
The flame stood above the body for a moment as the man expired, and just for a moment, the beast thought that the man’s spirit could be seen, captured by the flame, showing itself in snippets of blue and white, the entity buried in the bright hot orange fingers.
The beast stood for a moment, staring at its prey, staring at the body lying on the floor now lifeless in a bloody mess.
The man was most certainly dead.
The towering wooden door shook with a long and persistent knock.
The beast’s head snapped to the direction of the door. The knocking became louder, more determined and insistent, stopping and starting again.
The beast exhaled, deep and slow.
The door opened to the three companions of the young man. Huddled outside the door, the looks on their faces were of great worry and concern.
“Excuse me miss,” said the apparent leader of the group. He seemed to be the eldest, though he could not have been more than twenty or twenty two. He hooked his blonde hair around the back of his ear as he spoke cautiously. “Sorry to bother you…I see you aren’t open right now.”
The man stammered for a moment, then continued: “But we’re missing our friend Rodney. He was walking with us, and then just vanished. It was right around here, and we thought maybe he had ducked in here, but I suppose not, because the door was locked.”
A petite, busty redhead shoved the man aside, interrupting him and forcing her way to the threshold. “Wait a minute!” she said. “I saw you! You were standing right here! Smoking a cigarette!” The woman pointed down the street at the corner the three were standing on, as if accentuating her statement.
Claret took a step closer to the three visitors. She pursed her lips quietly. The redhead took a cautious step backwards.
“Yes…” Claret answered softly and slowly. “Yes, I was. I remember you walking by. Why do you ask?”
Claret’s eyes looked past the group, if just for a moment, for such a fleeting moment that the three did not notice her drift in attention. She scanned the street, looking out over the heads of her visitors, for a moment. The sunlight was fading.
Perfect timing.
The group did not even notice that she had been scanning street beyond them, nor had they even noticed that her attention was diverted. They simply continued with their plea.
“Well,” the blonde young man started again, “as I was saying, we thought our friend Rodney might have disappeared in here…but I doubt it since seems the door was locked.”
“But it wouldn’t have been locked when I was outside smoking, would it have?” Claret offered.
The young redhead affirmed the answer.
This mysterious red haired woman was absolutely correct, and she stood in the doorframe above them, seeming completely unbothered by their unexpected visit. Claret suddenly took a step back, and gestured out her arm.
“Where are my manners?!” she exclaimed. “Please, do come in. Come in and we can discuss where your friend might have gone!” She stepped back and ushered them into the foyer.
When inside, the three visitors scanned their surroundings, see a large table next to the door with a burning candle, stone floors and walls, and not much else.
Very grey. Very dark.
The
re was a small window above the table which let in a small amount of the fading daylight, casting a yellowish glow on the wooden table.
There was also no sign of Ronald’s corpse.
And there was no sign of any blood, or scuffle. The floor was clean, in fact it was spectacularly clean.
Claret had exited the foyer for a moment, coming back with a flaming torch. The three visitors looked at each other with confused looks on their faces.
“Just kidding!” Claret joked, as an overhead chandelier snapped on, bathing the entire stone room in light. She had instantly appeared on the opposite wall, by a light switch. “Not everything is primitive around here,” she offered. Walking back over to the front door, which was now closed, the three visitors were huddled just inside the door, not sure of what to make of this strange woman and this even stranger place. None of them had heard her move. She just simply appeared again before them.
“Do any of you know what this place is here?” Claret asked. “You silly simple little fools.” She smiled. The three visitors looked at one another, perplexed. “Do you not know where you are?”
The young redhead turned around and tried the door. It was locked.
Claret dumped the torch in a small opening in the floor below. “Did you think that door would be unlocked?” She laughed. She walked over to the redhead and put her arm around the frightened girl. “Oh, you silly little girl,” Claret said, running her hands on the side of the girl’s red hair, smoothing it down. “You three are coming with me. And when you come with me, I will show you where your friend went. Rodney is here, he is right down that hallway.” She pointed over to a large, shiny steel door. “We go through that door, we will find your friend.”
“What type of place is this?” The lanky black boy asked. He held the redhead close, and his older blonde friend continued hooking the sides of his hair behind his ears, repeatedly.
“Come with me,” Claret said, “and you will find out where your friend is, you will find out all you need to know. It doesn’t matter what you have done in your previous life, I will not judge you.”
The three visitors each exchanged confused glances, and the girl shook her head slightly. Her friend gave her a peck on the top of her head.
Claret walked over to the door, and pulled a large, shiny silver key out of her pocket. It was the kind of classic skeleton key that would be set to open any door. It caught the light and glistened brightly. “Come with me,” she said again.
The three visitors remained standing in the doorway, still seemingly too frightened to move. They spoke under their breaths to each other, and all were in agreement that this strange woman was off the deep end. The redhead kept staring down at the floor.
“Look up Christy!” Claret said with a big, toothy smile. Her enthusiasm covered the three friends like a cold blanket. “And I need you both too!” she said to the two young men. “Come on Philip! Jeff! Let’s go! Do you want to find your friend or not?”
Jeff removed his arms from around Christy. “Phil?” he asked, looking over at his friend expectantly. Phil was standing next to Jeff, staring right at Claret. Phil started playing with his hair, and hooked it once again behind his ear. “I think we can go,” he said. He then turned back towards Claret. “Who are you, miss?” he asked. “Forgive me, but this is just a really strange situation for all of us. We don’t even understand what this place is.”
They reluctantly walked over – Christy leading the two boys in an apparent display of feminine courage, and the will to overcome her friends’ fear. The trio finally reached where Claret was standing. “I am waiting for you!” she said, jingling her keys, still smiling widely, eagerly looking towards the trio with wide eyes and a peculiar bubbly demeanor. “Let’s go! Rodney is waiting!”
They filed next to where Claret was standing and lined up next to her. Claret waited in the doorway with a smile. She held the key up, and it again caught the light, and reflected on the faces of her visitors. “Whatever you see,” Claret said, “please realize one thing: I will not judge you. I will not take anything into account of what you each have done in your past, in your lives. I will not hold you accountable for that. The only thing that I will hold you accountable for is from this point forward. Do you understand?”
She put the key to the lock in the door, but did not turn it yet.
“Just let me ask you one question,” Claret said, “what is so special about this guy Rodney? What has he done to deserve this? You three are coming in here, have no idea who I am, and I have stood here making a mock of the situation! And yet, you follow me! Yes, I had locked the door. Yes, you don’t have much of a choice. But then, you hardly resist! Fascinating! What a gentleman this Rodney must be!” She chuckled to herself, and turned the key.
The door opened with a deep grating sound, and opened up to total darkness. “I will lead you,” Claret said. “And we will find your friend.”
Claret disappeared into the darkness, calling back to them to hurry.
But the darkness was enveloping. Claret had quickly disappeared, and the call of her voice beckoning them to come sounded more distant.
“Should we follow her?” Jeff asked, breaking the silence. He towered over Christy as he held her tight, silence only interrupted by Christy’s breathing and a fire burning somewhere quietly.
One by one, the three visitors, who were still a little perplexed that this woman knew their names, disappeared into the darkness.
And then the door slammed shut.
“Hey!!” Christy screamed, banging on the door urgently. “You can’t trap us in here! Where are you?!?”
There was the sound of a fire roaring, causing all three to look in the same direction. They all saw Claret, now standing behind a ring of fire.
“Ah, thank you,” Claret said, “Now that we are in here,” she said, circling the fire, “permit me to introduce myself. I am Claret. I have been dead for thousands of years. I am here to tell you, as I said before, that you will only be held accountable for what you do from this point forward.”
“Let us out of there!” Jeffrey pleaded.
“Oh, I cannot do that. It’s too late. The door is closed. You came with me, you agreed.”
“Agreed to what?” Jeffrey asked, moving forward.
“To join me.”
Christy turned around from the door that she had been trying to pry open with Phillip. “Join you?!” she said, “why would we want to join you?!”
Claret smiled and moved in front of the fire. She had her hands behind her back and she had a grin on her face.
“Oh you already have,” she said.
And all three of the visitors desperately tried to open the door, but the door would not budge. Where there once was an edge to the side of the door, there now simply was a stone and earthen wall. They were trapped. This was it.
Turning around, Christy stared in horror, looking up and ahead at the sight before her. She stopped and stared, paralyzed with fear. She took her hand and nudged Phillip, who was to her right, her eyes still fixated and staring in horror.
Phillip turned around and screamed, but it was too late. The flames became red.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The noise continued on the sultry night – the roar of the traffic and the occasional honking horn filled the air along with chattering, laughter and the clapping of high heels on pavement. The heaviness of the warm air permeated all those who dared out at the late hour that it was; even so, despite the stickiness, the smell of the car exhaust, and the occasional appearance of unkempt vagrants, the streets remained crowded and busy.
Antoine paused, stopping for a moment in his tracks.
His gaze locked upon the young man, drinking in the mulatto complexion, the finely cropped hair, and the tautness and tightness of the man’s skin. The young man slowly started moving closer to the spot where Antoine stood, noticing Antoine noticing him. The noise and commotion of Washington Avenue seemed to fade away; all Antoine could see was the young man.
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The young man looked up for a moment in Antoine’s direction, and their eyes met. Time seemed to stand still. When they got closer, they both stopped, in a sea of people moving in all directions, they both stood, staring at each other but speaking no words, not noticing the activity around them, both of them tuning everything out except the other.
“Got ‘ne weed?” the young man finally asked, leaning in quietly close to Antoine’s ear, once the two were close.
Antoine’s eyes widened slightly, raising his eyebrows as if he weren’t expecting this question, but he was. At first the young man seemed typical – dressed in the latest designer jeans, overblown gold jewelry hanging down to his waist and too-white sneakers; Antoine also thought he was the type known for doing drugs such as G, ecstasy , and of course, weed.
But that didn’t faze Antoine one bit.
He stared at the man’s livery lips as he spoke, focusing on the finest details of his mouth, his thin moustache and how the hairs were so neatly trimmed and kept. Antoine knew this specimen could be his forever.
Antoine gaze turned to the young man’s eyes, never relenting his piercing stare.
“You want to go find some?” he asked. “I’m here by myself anyway. Name’s Roberto.”
“Very good.”
Antoine said nothing else, and turned around, his black coat-tails flailing out as he did so, brushing against the man, and started the opposite way down Washington Avenue. Roberto followed quickly behind him, and the two made the short walk to Antoine’s car.
“You from around here, man?” Roberto asked, having to walk-run to keep up with Antoine. “Damn man! Why you walk so fast? It ain’t no rush!”
“So many words…” Antoine said, mostly to himself and under his breath, shaking his head.
The two approached Antoine’s silver Mercedes, parked at Washington and 7th. Antoine gestured his left hand towards the passenger door, and nodded to the boy. “Get in.” And Antoine said nothing more, only walked around the front of the car to his seat, opened the door, and got inside.
