Thursday, January 17, 2013
BEEP BEEP
BEEP
Monday
jerked awake, her head aching and for a minute, she forgot about the night
before, but when she looked around, panic and confusion set in. The room was
cozy, Monday laid in a soft bed under a tan blanket in a room with blue walls
and wood furniture; after the crypt, this was heaven. Monday sat up and felt
her head, the pain was terrible and she could feel a knot right above her eye.
Trying to remember the night before, she looked down and muffled a scream. She
was coved in dirt and blood. Last night flashed back to her; the stone angel,
Pat’s neck splitting open, and the cold, black eyes of the monster that caused
it all. Monday began to shake.
Looking
around for a way out, she saw that there were no windows and only one door.
Monday climbed out of bed, stumbling a little and approached the door, but as
she put her hand on the doorknob, she heard voices behind it.
“What are
you even going to do with her?” Asked an unfamiliar man’s voice.
“I called
Edith this morning for advice; she said to bring her in later on today. Until
then, I guess she can sleep it off.” The second voice was lighter but familiar;
it was a familiar voice she recognized. “Ezra?” She whispered to herself.
Monday thought back to the creature from last night before, she tried to remember
the details on the face, but her memory was blurry. She remembered hearing the
creature’s harsh voice and remembered it knew her name. Monday listened to them
through the door. “Just sleep it off? This isn’t something you just sleep off.”
“What was I
supposed to do, leave her there? After she saw what I did to the guy, she would
have gone to the police.” Monday clamped her hand to her mouth not wanting to
believe it, “Besides, it’s rare to find Fledglings. Edith said that they
haven’t spotted one in months.”
“Fledgling?”
Monday whispered. They were quiet when the other man spoke up, “What would you
have done if she wasn’t a Fledgling?” Ezra didn’t respond right away. “I know
what it’s like to be out there alone. She's just a kid, I couldn’t leave her
behind. Even if she turns out to be a false alarm, I still couldn’t leave her.
Marcus will understand.” They were quiet again, a moment later she heard them
moving around. The other man spoke again, this time in a more tender voice, “I
swear you're too good for your own good. I’ve got to head out. If she needs
anything to wear, there is a box of Vanessa’s old clothes in the top of the
closest.”
Monday
heard a door open then close while waiting behind her own door, wondering what
to do next. She opened the door to the hallway carefully and quietly, as the
smell of pancakes made her stomach growl. Creeping down the hallway, passed the
pictures on the wall that varied from pictures of Ezra and another man, Ezra
with other people, and the same strange man with a blonde-haired family, she
reached the end and peered around the corner; Ezra had his back to her, trying
unsuccessfully to flip pan cakes. How could this be the same man? She wondered.
He looked like the man she knew yesterday, the one who feed her when no one
else did, who cared for her when no one else did. The monsters face in her mind
was harsh, the black eyes glaring into her, but the more she thought about it,
the more familiar it became. Every move that Ezra made she imagined as the
monster, swearing under his breath with every failed flip, she tried to picture
the creature and its harsh voice. Monday stared at him wide-eyed, as to her
horror, he turned around.
“Ah, you’re
up,” He said, putting a plate of pancakes on the bar, “I made you breakfast.”
Monday hid behind the wall and heard him approach. With a warm smile, he handed
her a cup of coffee, “Freshly made.”
Monday
couldn’t take it; she knocked the cup out of his hand and made a run for the
door. She didn’t make it two feet before he grabbed her by the arm. Monday
struggled to get away, but he was too strong. “Get off me!” She yelled, hoping
someone would hear her. He twisted her arm, pinning her down, “Stop struggling
and eat, we have a meeting this afternoon.”
“Like hell,
I’m not going anywhere with you!” Ezra picked her up and she kicked at him. He
put her on the bar stool and turned her around so that he could face her. He
put his hands on her shoulders, his hazel eyes looked calm, “I’m not going to
hurt you; I just want to help. You can scream all you like but these walls are
thick and no one lives next door. Now eat your breakfast so that we can get
ready to go.”
He turned
her around to her plate and went to clean up the broken mug. Monday looked at
her plate, resisting the urge to eat. He came back as she pushed her plate
away. “I swear I’m not going to poison you, do you really want me to test
everything I give you?”
“I saw you
kill my friend last night after you turned into a monster, forgive me if I
don’t want to take anything from you.” He pushed the plate back to her. “You
are not the scared little girl I met yesterday. Are you always this moody in
the face of danger?”
Monday’s
dark expression turned into fear, Ezra realized this was the wrong this to say.
He held his hands up, “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” He reached into the
fridge and poured her a glass of juice. Monday looked down at her breakfast and
wanted to resist, but the hunger for food and answers was too much. Monday
scarfed down her pancakes, not caring that her matted hair kept falling in her
plate, Monday looked up at him to make sure there wasn’t a sinister I-just-poisoned-your-food
look on his face but instead he just sipped his coffee. When she finished her
plate he gave her some more, this time she ate them slowly and chose her first
question, “What are you?”
Ezra looked
at her, surprised, “The city’s legend has some truth to it. I’m a Nightling.”
Monday let the words sink in, hearing her fork drop to her plate in shock. She
may have figured it out but hearing the words made it real. The man in front of
her was not the killer; he couldn’t have been the monster from last night.
“How?” She asked.
“That one
is a little bit more complicated to answer,” he said, “Remember the story I
told you yesterday?”
Monday
thought back to it, “Men by day, monsters by night…then something about
plight?”
“Close. Men
by day, monsters by night. Nature sent, for sin to fight. Heaven fallen, Hell’s
delight. Blooded revenge, Man’s demon hound. Bitter hearts and bitter bound.
Gifted with angels flight, has become the Nightlings plight. In the myth,
Nightlings are these half demons, half angel things that kill people. With me
so far?”
Monday
shook her head, Ezra continued, “In the real world, however, Nightlings do
kill, but we only kill those that need to be killed.”
“Why would
someone need to be killed?” Monday asked.
“We go
after people who escape justice. Your friend Pat was a wanted killer, he turned
to the streets when they tried to arrest him. Since the police can only do so
much, it’s our job to take them out.”
“Let me get
this straight, you’re a killer who kills other killers?” Monday said eyeing him
with suspicion. Ezra took a deep breath, “You don’t wake up one day and turn
into this Monday. Nightlings are the physical representation of inner rage and
wrath. There is an event lead us to this life and it’s one you can’t escape. We
have to kill, and if you have to kill, you might as well go after the bad
guys.”
“Why are
you telling me all of this?”
Ezra was
going to take a sip of coffee, but put his cup down. He looked uncomfortable.
“Because last night, the only thing that did stop me was your eyes. You have
black eyes at night.”
Monday was
taken back. She hadn’t seen herself in descent light for the last few weeks,
let alone in a mirror. If her eye color had changed, it was news to her. “What
do black eyes mean?”
Ezra
swallowed, “It means that you’re starting to show signs of changing, that
you’re a Fledgling.”
Fledgling.
The word seemed to roll around in her mind more than Nightling itself. Monday
imagined herself like Ezra, withered wings spread out, black eyes that lacked
empathy, someone’s blood dripping down her fangs. “No, no I won’t! I’m not
going to turn into some mass murdering creature. You can’t make me!”
“I’m not
doing this to you; I’m just giving you the facts.”
“Like Hell
you are, I’m not doing this.” Monday stood up and tried to bolt for the door
again, but Ezra cut her off, “You can’t leave, not yet.”
“What are
you going to do, kill me?” Monday remarked. Ezra looked angry, “You don’t have
to take that tone-”
“I’m not
trying to! I just watched you turn into some mythical creature and kill
someone, then wake up a prisoner in your house. I thought that I ran away from
a bad situation only to end up here. I’m tired and confused and scared and
you’re not helping-”
“Hey it’s
okay,” he said reaching out to her, but Monday slapped his hand away, “Don’t
touch me!” Monday grabbed her head and sat down, curling herself up into a
ball, and started to cry, “I want to go home.”
Ezra let
her sit there, not making any more attempts to touch her. Monday sobbed, making
her head hurt even more and sobbed more from the pain. I want to go home she
thought to herself, not just to her crypt but to her real home, back for any of
this happened. She wanted to wake up in her bed, in her room, and let this
ongoing nightmare end. Her sobs increased and she could feel herself getting
sick, but couldn’t stop, she didn’t want this life. Ezra just stood by,
probably just as lost as she was, the only move he made was getting her a trash
can to throw up in. As Monday hugged the can, he left the room and left her
alone. Monday thought about running but what good would it have done? A few
minutes later, he came back with cardboard box in his arms. He pushed to box to
her, trying to keep his distance. Monday looked in the box, surprised to find
clothes.
“I want to
take you to see someone; he may know what to do. These belong to my
step-daughter and they might fit you. You can take a shower and take your time,
but he can answer your questions for you.” He knelt down to her level and
looked her in the eye. “This is not an easy thing to understand, but Marcus can
help. “This is all I can do for you for now. Trust me.”
Monday
pulled the box over, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and opened it up. She could
see some jeans and shirts that were to flashy for her, but feeling the clean
fabric was a relief. She became aware of how dirty she really was and the idea
of a bath was appealing. If she was stuck here, at least she could do was get
answers. Monday combed through the box until she found an orange dress that
looked like it would have fit. Ezra cleaned the kitchen as Monday went to the
bathroom to change. The first thing she did after she got undressed and locked
the doors was look in the mirror.
The first
real mirror she looked in weeks made her shutter. Her skin looked shallow and
dry from the harsh cold which made her freckles stick out even more; in a
month’s time, her ribs started to show and along with dirt, her body was
covered in bruises from the dumpster diving. Her hair was tangled and brittle
with twigs sticking out from underneath the mess, Monday pulled out as much of
the twigs from her hair pulling out several strands with it. Her face, however,
is what Monday found to be the worse; with hollow eyes and chapped lips, she
looked haunted like the dead she once looked after.
She had
never been more excited for a shower.
Monday let
the warm water wash over her felling warm for the first time in weeks. She had
the water too hot but didn’t care that it burned her skin. It wasn’t the best
shower, but it did put a real smile on her face. When she was wrinkly, she
dried of and tried to comb her hair out, more strands were pulled out, but it
was at least untangled, bushy, but untangled. She slipped on the dress and it
hit her above the knee; it flared out at the bottom and was shorter than what
she liked, but Monday tried to not be ungrateful. Already, she looked and felt
better.
Tugging the
dress down, she came out of the bathroom. Ezra had finished the dishes and was
on his computer when he looked up at her and smiled, “feeling better?” Monday
gave him a weak smile and nodded her head. Ezra saw through this. “How are you
really feeling?”
Monday
didn’t want to answer; she didn’t want to admit that she was enjoying herself.
Ezra seemed to see right past her, “We should probably go. You probably want
some questions answered. Plus, there is someone who wants to meet you.”
Monday
didn’t question it. Ezra went to his room and came out with a large brown coat
and a gray wool hat, “It’s chilly today and I hate for you to put your dirty
clothes back on. It’s a little big, but Vanessa didn’t leave a coat. You ready
to go?” Monday put on the coat and hat, the coat swallowed her, making her feel
like a child playing dress up, and followed him out the front door. Down a set
of stairs, they came out to the side of the bakery in an ally where a large
white van with Borne Bakers printed on the side in blue was parked. Monday
didn’t want to consider the irony of getting in a white van with a stranger,
but her life couldn’t get much worse.
Ezra didn’t
tell her where they were going, but he seemed to be driving into the city. At
least I won’t die in some cabin in the woods she thought. Ezra was a horrible
driver and not five minutes in the car did she realize how bad his road rage
was. Not wanting to hear him yell obscenities at the passing cars, she turned
to him, “where are we going?”
Ezra seemed
to have forgotten she was in the van and he calmed down. “To the Genesis
building downtown, Marcus wants to see you.”
“Why?”
“If there
is word of any new Nightlings or Fledglings, he likes to verify and check it
out. He’s in charge of them all and needs to keep track.”
“You make
it sound like it’s organized.” Ezra shrugged, “It really is. The Nightlings job
is to keep the city safe and it’s Marcus’s job to keep the Nightlings in line.
It’s just like running a business.”
Except that
you turn into monsters and kill people, Monday thought staring out the window
at the passing buildings. As they drove closer downtown the buildings grew
taller and taller, Monday had to tilt her head to see the top. She turned to
Ezra, “I don’t think I thanked you for saving me.” The image of Pat on top of
her, pinning her down, with a rock in his hand, flashed before her eyes, Monday
said looking him in the eye, “A lot has happened in the last twenty four hours.
It’s just a lot to process right now.”
Ezra gave
her a sad smile, “I know the feeling. You’re not born into this life, you fall
into it.” Ezra pulled up to the curb and parked the van. As he paid the meter,
Monday looked up in awe the Genesis Tower. The cream colored brick made a
striking comparison, to the black granite of the neighboring buildings. The
gold windows stretched up into the heavens as she strained her neck just to see
the top; the windows were polished and reflected back the mall of grass
stretching in front of it. Above the golden doors and the golden letters was a verse
carved into the stone: Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right
spirit within me (Psalm 51:10).
“Pretty
impressive. Best psychologist in town to be able to afford anything on Matthew
Square.” Inside, Genesis was just as grand. The white marble floors were
polished, reflecting the gold walls and hanging chandler. After going through a
quick metal detector, they passed the large, round secretary desk to a hall way
of elevators. As they waited, Monday tried to find Marcus on the large black granite
board, but there were simply too many names. Up the elevator and to the 26th
floor, the doors opened to another hallway with dark green walls and ugly brown
carpet, how anyone could find their way around here baffled Monday. Finally,
down the hallway, they reached a hard wooden door with Doctor Marcus Clearly
stamped on the front in gold letters; under his name was
Psychologist/therapist.
The entry
way did not measure up to the grandeur of the building. The same ugly brown
carpet from the hallway with wood paneled walls, the room reflected some color
from the stained glass wall fixture that hung down from the ceiling. The entry
way was small with only a leather sofa and a black desk, behind the desk was a
young woman who looked to be in her late twenty's, wearing a revealing ruffled
blouse, and a thick red pendent that she kept pulling out of her cleavage. She
was playing with a stand of blond hair while on the phone with someone. Her
pointed face was twisted in frustration and she let the strand of hair go,
falling back in place along her jaw. Finally, she hung up and ran her fingers
threw her hair, took a deep breath, “Damn manufactures.”
“Something
wrong Edith?”
She looked
up at him threw her glasses with pale green eyes, “Nothing that I want to
discuss right now, Is this the girl you called me about earlier.?” stepped
forward as Edith looked her up and down, she then wrinkled her nose, “Looks
like another runaway, you know those never last long here.”
“Can’t you
be pleasant for two seconds?”
“I try, but
it never last,” she said standing up. Tall and would have been thin if it
wasn’t for the pregnancy belly, Edith walked around the desk to the door to the
side of the room and poked her head in, “Dear, the girl that Ezra brought is
here.” She looked back to Monday and motioned for her to go in. Monday waited
for Ezra to follow but he just shook his head. “You should probably go on your
own.”
Monday
hesitated, not wanting to face this Marcus on her own, but gave in and opened
the door. The dark gray walls poked out from the rare space wear there wasn’t a
bookshelf. A light fixture like the one in the waiting area hung from the
ceiling and gave a little light. There was a plush red chair in front of the
large desk that behind it, reading to himself, sat who had to be Dr. Marcus
Cleary.
He was not
what she expected, he had the wispy gray hair of an old man pulled back behind
him, but even his sunken face, with lines etched on it, told her he wasn’t a
man who was as old as he looked; he looked worn down. Monday sat down in the
red chair as Marcus stood up and put his book back, he was a thin man but
lacked an old man’s walk, “You must be the young lady that Mr. Borne told me
about over the phone.”
Monday
nodded and he smiled at her, his smile raised the hairs on the back of her
neck. Everything about him did; from his gray menacing eyes to his deep voice
that crocked with power in it He sat back down in his own chair and reached out
a hand to her, “Dr. Marcus Cleary, but you may call me Marcus.”
Monday
shook it back, “I’m Monday Caldecott.”
“Such a
polite young lady. From what my wife had told me about your background, I
wasn’t expecting that. Runaways seem to lose their manors first.”
“Your
wife?”
“The woman
outside. You’re the first to not come right out ask if she was my daughter.” He
chuckled, if he was trying to make her feel better, it wasn’t working. “Ezra
said that you could help me?”
“Ah yes.
Did he explain to you what a Nightling was?” Monday nodded. Marcus lifted the
lid to his laptop, focusing on it, “Then this makes things a bit easier. Ezra
said that you’re a runaway?”
“Yes sir.”
“Why?”
“I don’t
understand?” Monday asked not wanting to answer the question. Marcus didn’t
look up from his computer, “I don’t know how much Ezra told you but Nightlings
only become Nightlings from some form of internal conflict. You’re running away
from something?”
Monday
fiddled with her hands, “I came to Syringa to follow my friend. She’s buried here.
She died a few weeks ago.”
Marcus
looked over to her, “I’m sorry for your loss. What happened to her?”
Monday felt
a lump in her throat, “She killed herself.”
Marcus now
seemed interested in her, “How do you feel about that? Running away from home
to follow her seems extreme. Tell me about what lead up to her death?”
“Ezra said
that you could help-”
“Monday,
don’t change the subject, what happened to her before she died?”
The lump
was pressing into her, “There was a rumor at school that she tried to destroy
my stepfather’s reputation. He was a respected member of the community. She
couldn’t handle it.”
“Why would
the school do that to her, what did she do to motivate them?”
“She didn’t
do anything,” Monday glared at him, “it was a rumor started after the trial-”
“Trial?” He
raised his eyebrow. Monday felt her skin crawl, “She called Child services on
my step-father. She said that- why does this matter? I just want to know how to
reverse this.
“If you
want help you’re going to have to be honest with me, even if it’s painful. How
else can I determine how you became so bitter and angry?”
“I’m not
bitter and angry,” Monday said, not wanting to admit it.”
He reached
out for her hand and patted it, “If you’re a fledgling then something must have
caused it. You have to be honest with me Miss Caldecott. What happened at the
trial?”
“Nothing
happed,” Monday half lied. Marcus laughed, “Well, people just don’t kill
themselves for fun. Let me guess, poison? ”
“Stop it.”
Monday asked, shaking.
“Or maybe a
jumper, probably in front of traffic. After all, she has no problems ruining
others people’s lives with all of her lies.”
“Stop it,”
her heart racing.
“Or maybe
she didn’t even try to kill herself; maybe she tried to runaway but couldn’t
make it. Such a stupid-”
“STOP IT!”
Monday yelled, “She hung herself and she called me when she did it!” Marcus
seemed pleased with himself, knowing he got the rise out of her that he wanted.
Monday curled up in the chair, Marcus pushed over a box of tissues. Monday
didn’t take them but instead just sat there curled up in a ball. She wanted to
go home, but home was where horror lives; or so she thought. Marcus closed the
lid on his computer and came around to her. He looked down at her when he
spoke, “Why would she call you? Why do you think that she wanted you to hear
her last words?”
Monday
didn’t answer. “I think that would be enough for now, the Lord knows that if I
press you for anything else then you’ll snap. There is a cure but it’s not one
that I can give you. Rage and Wrath are what fuels the fire.”
Marcus
opened the door and it took every bit of strength that she had to leave.
Outside, Ezra was talking to Edith but his face turned as white as her when he
saw her. “Is everything alright?”
“Miss
Caldecott is just not used to this lifestyle is all? I would keep an eye on her
for now.” Monday went over to Ezra, and stood behind him. She wanted to
separate herself from Marcus as much as possible. “As for now, I want her in
your care. If you could send over pictures tonight of her eyes, I don’t doubt
that she is a Fledgling. I also want to see Miss Caldecott again. Bring her
back in a few weeks, which should be enough time to digest things. I think that
little Monday could do with stability, she needs a caring hand.”
They left
the office and out of the building but Monday felt in a fog and just went
through the motions. When they reached the car, Ezra led her to the passenger
door. When she got in she was so shaken she couldn’t even do her buckle. “Let
me help.” Ezra said buckling her in. He had sure her seat belt was straightened
out. He got in his only seat but didn’t start the van. “First time with Marcus
is always the hardest.”
They drove
in silence though the city as a pounding in her head was getting stronger with
every beat. Ezra didn’t talk to her, which Monday found to be a relief. When
they got back to the bakery, Ezra handed Monday a key, “I need to get some work
done today. You can have the apartment to yourself.”
Up the
stairs, Monday opened the door and went in. It was a nice place she had to
admit. In front of the open kitchen was a large living room with furniture that
had the same blues, grays and tans from the bedroom. There was a large cabinet
that held not only a large TV, but shelves of books and some knickknacks. She
sat on the tan couch and sunk into the seat. It was quiet. She looked out the
window and saw a fire escape that went up. Not wanting to be cooped up inside,
Monday went outside and to the roof. There was nothing special about the roof
except for an old lawn chair but Monday enjoyed the fresh air. She walked to
the edge of the roof and leaned against the edge.
The view
from the roof was nice. You could see how large the city really was. Past
Martha Street were the nicer areas where they parks were at. Maple trees hid
the streets as a sea of buildings unfolded in front of her. The building grew
taller the further away until she saw Genesis tower rising above them all.
Monday looked over the edge and saw that front of the shop and watched as
people walked by. But the more she watched an idea popped in her head.
What if I
jumped, Monday thought, What if I just climb up on the ledge and take off. She
thought of Alyson who looked death in the face before killing herself and the
more Monday thought about it the more enticing it was. She wouldn’t have to
worry about running or hiding from her family nor would she ever worry about
the Nightlings. She didn’t deserve to be here when Alyson was gone. She should
have taken her place. She thought about Ezra who would surly see her fall and
thought that he might care. He took her in and cared for her even if that care
came with a price. Monday stood up on the edge. The ground seemed further away
the more she looked. She thought back to Pat’s body and for a moment thought
about her own. She imaged herself as a broken with blood everywhere. She
stepped back off the ledge and back onto the roof. She didn’t want to die; she
didn’t want to be another Alyson. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t want
to suffer.
Back
inside, Monday went back to her room and slept. What must have been hours
later, Monday woke up and saw a plate of food on the nightstand and a note; the
note read on the roof if you want to talk. She opened the curtains and saw the
night had fallen. Monday ate her dinner, wondering if she was ready to start
talking, knowing it was night, she didn’t know if she was ready to face him
again in Nightling form. She put her plate in the sink and went over to the
fire escape; curiosity got the better of her. She climbed to the top but didn’t
dare join him, instead she watched.
It was
creepy to see him so human and yet so demonic. He was sitting on the edge, reading
a book and drinking a glass of red wine, but even under the night sky and the
dim light, she could still see the form. Monday had to admit, the wings were
mesmerizing; he stretched his wings out, they were translucent and his veins
showed through. He was shirtless too, his torso was covered in several scars
that she wondered how many were caused by struggling victims.
Monday left
him there and went back inside. As she went back to her own room, she paused at
the bathroom door. She poked her head in and braced herself when she turned the
light on. Sure enough, when the light flicked on, her once green eyes were
black as coal. They weren’t blacked out all the way like Ezra’s, but they had
still turned black.
She really
was a Fledgling.
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3 comments:
Compelling story line, good characters, pace is outstanding. Almost everything about this story so far is very strong for a young, first time writer. I like the way you've presented Marcus. Ezra is round and believable; the tension with Monday wanting to depend on him and not wanting to trust him is handled well. Her contemplating suicide without any real desire to die is quite believable. Lots of good stuff.
Your paragraph structure is often fractured. I'm often puzzled why you choose to include multiple topics in the same paragraph, or why you elect start a new one. Also, in traditional conversation structure, each new speaker begins a new paragraph. Good rule to follow, as it makes it a lot easier to keep up with who's talking (and, at this point in your writing career, you should have a good reason not to be traditional).
NOTE: these are all things that we take care of in the first rewrite, and worrying about structure/grammar/word choice/etc. should not get in the way of telling your story. But some things are easy to fix and become good habits along the way.
Most of all: keep going.
By the way, what is the BEEP BEEP BEEP that she wakes up to? Alarm clock doesn't seem reasonable. Garbage truck outside?
It was subpost to be the alarm clock from the other room but I like the idea that it's the garbage truck. That would make more sense.
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