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Mary takes the boy to town. Part 2
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Mary takes the boy to town. Part 2 |
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GBride Senior Member
since 2009-07-02
Posts 538 |
Mary takes the boy to town. Part 2 Mary pulled Trevor along with her as she walked to the next car. It was a long, sleek, powerful, white, Lincoln. Behind the wheel was a black man dressed in a white flowing shirt with several strings of beads dropped around his neck. Beside him in the front seat was a pale white woman dressed in a purple dress. She had ghost white hair cropped very short like mans crew cut. Mary patted his shoulder gently, leaned over to his face and said, “Mister, I wonder if any of your gals, here would like to make a quick fifty. I warn you I won't pay more. I just need her for half an hour, tops.” The man looked at Mary as if he was seeing a vision. Surprised he blinked a few times taking everything in. “He said, “What do you want a woman for, anyway? You're a bit old aren't you for this stuff? “It's not for me, sonny, It's for the boy here.” “Well,” replied the man, “You can take Twilla over there by the door, She's a bit old for this game, her time is running out.” Give me the fifty and I will signal her.” Mary lays fifty dollars into the man's hand. She grabs Trevor's wrist and pulls him along. It's clear he doesn't like this at all. All three climb the stair to the second floor, walk down a hallway, and enter a dimly lit room with dingy furniture and torn red curtains. Mary spreads her coat out on the bed and directs Trevor to sit beside her on the coat. Twilla discards her coat and begins to walk in a sexy way towards them unbuttoning her blouse. “No, no,” Mary said in a loud voice, “We will have none of that now. This is just a fourteen-year-boy to gentle to be taken in lustful thoughts. Just sit down there in that chair. I have a cold soda here in my purse and a sandwich for you, which I'm sure you can appreciate.” “I don't understand what you want of me, I'm sure,” replied Twilla with a confused expression on her face. “Just what is it you do want me to do for you?” “Oh, don't worry about that, “Mary continued,”We're just talking is all. This here young boy doesn't have a Dad as the Lord chose to take him to heaven, where I'm sure he rests comfortably in pure bliss on the knees of his savior. But the boy needs the instruction that his dad can't give him. He needs to know about the underside of life. The down town at night and all it's temptations to snare good men into evil doings.”. “So go on and tell us about your sinful life. How you got this way: your daddy beating you black and blue, rapping you all the time, your mother drunk watching quiz shows on the television all day with dirty dishes in the sink and bugs crawling all over them, not paying any attention to what was going on in right in front of her nose.” “How in total desperation, you hitched hiked down the highway when you were but twelve-years-old. And finally go picked up by a generous truck driver who feed you and dropped you off in our city. You thinking you could get a good job somewhere, but you were to young and dirty to hire on. “How you were cold and hungry, sitting in an alley when a man appeared. He seemed to be a good person, took you home and fed you, treated you like a queen. But then, he demanded you go out on the street and allow dirty, filthy, disgusting men to use your innocent, frail body, It's worse than a Roman orgy. Oh, it's a tale to make a tax collector cry. “Tell us dear, tell us of the injustice you suffered, the indignities you lived through, Tell us about it though it make us cry for a week! Tell us! “Well,” replied Twilla lighting up a cigarette , “my folks left me along pretty much, I guess. But I do this job because money is slow now at the car lot, and as secretary there I don't get many hours in—just work three days a week. So I come down here two days a week to earn Christmas money. If the men are stinky, I make them shower first, and I make them use a condom to prevent disease. If the man gets rough, why I call out to Pete, the bouncer, who comes in here and gives them what for. They behave or they go, that's the rule.” “Now that will be enough of your lies,” said Mary, turning to Trevor while pulling him up by his wrist, “You see there boy, every words that comes out of her mouth is a lie. She belongs to Satan now, who is the father of lies. So that now she doesn't know a lie from the truth. What ever is true she will deny; whatever is a lie she will say is true. Come on now boy, we are finished here.” Mary and Trevor leave the room descending the stairs while Twilla smokes the cigarette, picking up the sandwich and starring at the soda. Trevor looks up at Mary, “Does that mean her name isn't Twilla?” “Exactly boy, her name is the devil. That's what it is. And don't you forget it.” “I won't forget Gramma, her name is the devil.” Dear Reader. I hope Flannery O'Connor would approve of my attempt to write in her voice. She died when she was only 39 years old. I was sitting in the student union when I learned her family raised peacocks. I nearly fell out of the chair laughing. Nothing could be more perfect, peacocks and Flannery's stories. Though she was a dedicated Catholic, she made fun of people who used God's name to justify their own selfish ends. I've hopped she would come to me in my dreams to tell me what to write next. So far nothing. |
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AncientHippie Member
since 2009-10-15
Posts 411Surfing the Cosmic Flow |
Flannery O'Connor has been done proud in this work, GBride. I hope that we may look forward to more in the same style. This reminds me of the story "Convergence" in the collection "Everything That Rises Must Converge." Great work. Thank you for a super read. "We are stardust: we are golden: and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden." --Joni Mitchell "Woodstock" |
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