Ghostflame WIP
My Current Writing Project.
MrWonkler
8/3/202611 min read
Chapter 1:
She stood aghast, mostly sickened at what her father insinuated. Could he really think of her as nothing more than a pair of hands at the tanners? Her father was stern, but clearly puzzled with her reaction, as if his words didn’t intend to cut his own daughter where she stood. He couldn’t get another word out before she stormed out of the dining room. She, however, didn't return to her room, instead electing to go outside. She stomped her way downtown. There was still light peering in through the streets, and the old village homes didn't creep tall enough to hide its fading velvet light.
Adaline, or Addi as everyone calls her, had walked up and down these streets more times than she could count. Every incline and divot of the stone memorized, merely second nature to her as she walked through the village. She veered off the paven road just beyond the final markets to one of the last flat plots of land within the town’s boundaries. Next to it, a canal that rushed cool water which would make its way through the orchards and vineyards out yonder. Standing over the barren earth, she could see the unobstructed horizon, and where human interference with the land ended. The place of her fantasy, a place she has never been. A crippling anemoia, like the canal beneath her, flowing endlessly with woeful yearning.
Adaline doesn’t talk much, would rather let others fill that silence. There’s a mystique in the “quiet one,” but greatly outweighed usually by its pitiful loneliness. Addi always envied the talkative ones. Their interactions always flowed from one thing to the next like sweet, soft jelly on bread. Hell, it seems whenever she speaks her real thoughts they end up offending, or worse, ignored. But she’s just a simple tanner, she thought to herself as her memory reminded what her father said to her. Her vision fogged as she spoke into the wind,
“I’ll marry me to a rope before he keeps me put.”
As the last light crept beneath the earth Adaline turned back towards civilization, taking a different path from the one she came from. She approached a local cantina that echoes from its windows of live music. Ragtime piano and rough, rugged voices. She entered through the batwing doors and found an empty seat. Not a soul paid mind to her, as if a draft had simply moved the swinging fixture. She was narrowly old enough to order a drink, but it's not like anyone would stop to make sure anyways. Despite what she may think, everyone does know her, and the reputation that precedes her is one of pleasantness, or rather innocuousness.
The bitter taste of alcohol has always been quite overwhelming to her non-aventurous palate, usually resulting in a terrible headache, but that didn't stop her tonight. She started with light ale, and quickly gathered the courage to try the house mead. It was much sweeter than ale, prettier too. A silky bubbly honey, followed by the most tantalizing tartness. The tavern claims it's a secret recipe, but she was almost certain it was huckleberry. Despite its demeanor, the mead was nearly three times as potent as the beer she was “accustomed” to, something she did not take into account before nearly emptying a pitcher.
Addi slouched over the bar table, with her head in her arms, as she tried to remain balanced on the barstool. Though having no reason to, she held a big smile on her face, one she couldn’t get rid of. It embarrassed her. What was a buzz, became a roaring siren, clouding her thoughts and inhibitions. For the first time, in a long time, Adaline felt happy, well, not sad.
“Christ Addi, save some for the rest of us.” A young man spoke from behind her. Addi swiveled her chair around to meet the gaze of the man, only to be greeted by the face of a family friend.
“It's time for celebration Lawrence.” She slurred.
“Is that so?” Lawrence replied. Addi’s smile warbled and her eyes drooped, immediately dropping her false bravado.
“My fate’s been prophesied y’hear." She said facetiously. Lawrence put his hands on his hips and bent down slightly to meet her eyes again, which were now facing the floor.
“I don’t know what that means, also I can barely hear you. Here, let me take you out front.” Lawrence motioned towards the front doors, “That way I can make sense of ya, and give you a little break from your imbibe-fest.” But Addi refused,
“No!” She childishly raised her voice while crossing her arms, firmly seated on the barstool. He however didn’t break eye contact, though she’d very much appreciate if he did, as he continued,
“Addi, I’d like to talk to you, and I’m not buying all this self pity.” It was rather startling how easily her feelings were read. She broke eye contact by looking away, attempting to parry his approach,
“Can’t a girl just want a good time?” Lawrence sighed and stood up straight. He looked around for a second, as if to give himself some time to consider something.
“You are indeed entitled to that, yes ma’am.” He paused again, and scrunched his brow, as if he was fighting the regret of what he was about to say. His pitch raised, “I’m sure you’re just having a blast sitting here alone listening to this old people's music. But, if you come with me… I’ll…” He lets out one final sigh. “Let you drive the T-bird.” Addi yelled,
“You mean it? Right now!?” Some eyes turned to see an incredibly drunk young lady, with the biggest smile on her face. Lawrence, not wanting to make a scene, motioned for her to follow him and held out his hand,
“Only if you come with me right now. It's out back.” Addi fumbled out of her seat, leaning into Lawrence’s hand. They both snaked their way outside and walked to the rear of the building.
Christia is a secluded village, nestled in a dark fertile crevice east of the major Southern Californian metropolises. Far enough away so as to not obstruct its natural horizon, but close enough as to pollute the night sky with its light, obscuring the stars and whatever else the sky hid. Besides the drinkers, the city remains rather quiet past dark. Everyone follows their moral curfew, even Adaline did up until now.
Something hard bounced off her head that jingled and hit the floor,
“Ow-uh” Addi exclaimed as a pair of keys fell to the ground in front of her. Lawrence chuckled knowing she hadn’t been paying attention. She picked up the keys and unlocked his car. Lawrence drives a glittery, candy white convertible Ford Thunderbird, which to the untrained eye doesn’t stand out from any other sporty gas guzzler, but that was kind of the point. Under the hood, the car took a very different form. It’s his baby, the thing he pours himself into, and his reward is being the fastest thing east of LA.
Addi gassed the throttle, and the car heaved forward only to break all momentum in an instant, sending both of them forward into the dash. Lawrence had barely enough time to react as the car jerked again, and again, inching towards the exit.
“To Betsy! Did a couple-a drinks really wipe your memory of how to work her? Easy, Easy!” The car finally stopped. While the rev of the engine quieted, Lawrence could overhear giggling coming from next to him. He couldn’t help but join her. He chortled through his sentence,
“Ok, now do I need to show you again how to work the clutc-” but was cut off as the Thunderbird ripped out of the parking lot, drifting onto the main street heading north. Lawrence yelled as they were pressed into their seats from its acceleration,
“She-devil you are! Yeeeeehaw!” City lights zipped by them. Passing conversations, music, and any ambience was drowned out by the roar of the engine, and the wind in their faces. Quickly they escaped the boundaries of the town, now trekking the winding country roads, unobscured by the sleet of a full moon's light. As they traveled, Lawrence received his part of the bargain,
“You’ve got an infectious laugh y’know.” She turned to him with a drunkenly droopy head, as to acknowledge his statement. “I don’t just let anyone drive this thing.”
“Now I know you’re lying. I’ve seen you stroll on by with them city girls” Addi challenged. Lawrence clapped as he spoke each syllable,
“Customers! You know that.” They both chuckled. “What would we be livin’ off of without ‘em eh?” Addi didn’t respond. “I used to say, there’s no greater way to spend your time than cruising in your best shopwork with someone who appreciates her as much as you do. But I’ve come to the realization that peace is more easily found in silent appreciation. The purr of the engine, the bounce of its suspension, even that whistle from the intake.” He paused, putting his chin into his hand. “But no one cares for your rustbucket more than yourself anyways, ‘cause no one knows the story of each of its quirks, every shake and noise whispers the work you put into her. And she never forgets you. Something a car seems to do better than most people these days.” Addi looked over and scanned him. His body language was different. He was nervous, more nervous than when he offered the car. She spoke up,
“Is that so?” He responded,
“Unfortunately. Hobbies have become a luxury in this damn economy. Street races offer the same payouts as they did a decade ago, and every aspect of life’s been monetized. And I would rather hook a snorkel to my exhaust than work retail or any service industry for that matter.” Addi interrupted, laughing at the irony of the situation,
“Sounds familiar.” Lawrence continued,
“Well, I fear being holed up here ain’t doing me any good. This place is stuck in time, like a capsule underground. Everything's from the last century. Even the career opportunities sound like something out of a Mark Twain novel.” She added,
“Preaching to the choir Law. You’re with a tanner’s girl as we speak.” The night got darker as they traveled further into the sticks. Clouds began to cover the moon’s meditative blue glow, leaving only the car’s headlamps to guide their path.
“There was an ad in the paper looking for able bodies to be firemen.”
“Fireman, you say?” Addi mocked. Lawrence spoke rigidly,
“Not the heart throbs that run into burning buildings, just a lookout position way out east of Copperopolis.” Addi pressed on,
“Where’s that?”
“Up in Cali’s northern pastures. The Sierra Nevadas.” Addi looked at him with an inquisitive stare,
“And do what exactly?”
“Well watch of course!"
“Watch what?”
“The trees I presume.”
“Watch the trees? And what do you suspect they need watching for?”
“Make sure they don’t catch on fire, I'm sure.”
“Well if they haven't caught fire yet, what makes you think they’d need you now?”
“It ain't just that Adaline. They’re making me a weatherman too.” Addi scoffed,
“What do you know about the weather?”
“Well nothing right now, that's why I'll learn!”
“This is what you wanted to tell me about?”
“Why yes it is. They’ve already got my papers, only waiting for the season to start now.” Addi pulled to the side of the road. She hadn't been paying attention to what's in front of her for a good while during their conversation.
“So why tell me?” Lawrence sighed and looked up at the black cloudy sky,
“I don’t got nobody here anymore, and ma and pa sold their land long ago, but it'd be indecent of me not to tell someone I was goin’ away, and I had a suspicion your father wouldn’t be too sympathetic to my decision.”
“You’re telling me,” Addi scoffed in agreement, rolling her eyes. Lawrence lowered his gaze again, turning his attention to Adaline,
“Now I’ve been more than kind to you here, so why don’t you tell me what's been plaguing you?” At this point, the mead’s ambrosia had mainly worn off, and Addi was reminded how she ended up here. It was dark, cold, and she was tired. Emotion reentered her system, forcing her to cover her face. Lawrence reeled back, shocked by her reaction. He wasn’t too well versed in emotion, especially not in others, so he froze, sitting as a passenger in his own car, too afraid to help.
When she finally rose back upright in her seat, removing her hands from her face, they sat there in the dark, as Adaline opened up,
“You’ve got it all figured out.” Lawrence frowned in confusion,
“Figured what out? I’m a lost gypsy with not a soul to care for him.” Addi tried to elaborate,
“But you’ve actually made your mind. I’m stuck.” His confusion remained,
“Stuck?”
“I ain’t built for the city, but I can’t stand it here anymore either. My craft I’ve worked on my whole life isn't valued elsewhere other than here, but ‘I’m’ not valued here, let alone elsewhere. And my dad’s the worst of it, ‘Work, eat, sleep, ‘till the good Lord comes to find ‘ya.’ I never heard a more haunting life motto.” Both of them remained still, trying to digest what the other was saying. Addi yelled,
“There’s nowhere for me to go!” Lawrence’s frown unfurled finally,
“The girl I’ve seen a hundred, hundred times through the years never showed me this side of her before. What of this does your father know?”
“He knows enough. Hell, I could tell him everything like I just have and he’d not budge a step.”
Addi opened the driver side door and stepped out, relinquishing her control over the car.
“Thanks again… For letting me drive.” Lawrence tried to lighten the mood,
“I knew it would help, much to my chagrin. I’ll drive us back. Shall we?” Addi nodded and sat in the passenger seat.
The ride home was quiet, but not uncomfortable, as if all tension had been released there on the side of the road. They screamed into the void and the void listened, but it did not echo. Adaline couldn’t remember a time when her honesty was cherished, or in this case, mirrored. The sky cleared again once they returned towards the city’s outskirts. Christia’s warm lights and quaint structures made for a humble, yet kindly view. Even at night it was clear to see, she was unchanged from even a hundred years passing, just like her people. Lawrence stopped the car a couple of blocks away from Addi’s home,
“It’s best if I leave you off here. Don’t want you’re pa thinking something he oughtn’t.” Addi stepped out of the car and turned to Lawrence after shutting his door,
“Thank you. I mean it.” He looked to her caringly,
“I know you do.” She smiled. “And don't forget to tell your dad about me before the next farmers market.” She responded,
“Can do buckaroo” and he drove off. Addi walked over those same inclines and divots she did earlier that evening and approached her home. Her side of town was always the quietest, something they took pride in. Even the wind whistled softer when it blew, tonight however, had a stench. Addi broke her step pattern from those all too familiar pavings to look up. Coming down the road was a man covered in darkness. His clothing was too dim to make out, with only his lips illuminating with the light of a cigarette between them. Behind him walked three dogs, big short-haired ones, unleashed; Dogs that weren’t used for herding, at least not out here. Addi decided to pick up her pace and avoid eye contact with the stranger.
Addi slowly creaked open the back window to her father’s shop and crawled her way inside, placing her feet on a workbench covered in tools, scrap leather and other heavy sharp equipment. Once on the ground, she removed her shoes and walked to her room without making a sound. Finally, she slipped under the covers and quickly dozed off.
“Did you tell him?” A man’s voice spoke, coming from somewhere in the room, close by. “Did you tell him?” It spoke again, repeating its question. “Did you tell him sorry? Did you tell him sorry? Did you tell him you were sorry?” Adaline’s eyes shot wide open, but she did not move. Her room was nearly pitch dark, with only a sliver of incandescent streetlight peaking under her curtains. She had not stayed awake this late in a long time, now she remembers why. “Did you tell him you were sorry?” The voice asked again, its volume increasing. Finally it changed its question, “How will you repent? Are you sorry? How will you repent?” It repeated, interchanging between its two questions. The voice was low but shallow, almost raspy, droning the same thing over and over. Despite its maddening presence, she did not move but her eyes. They darted left to right, searching for the voice, which seemed to emanate from the darkest corner. Her head started to shake, vibrating rapidly as she stared into the abyss. She could not move her body. She could not block out the voice. She was helpless. Terrified.
“Leaving is killing. A pestilential desire. One is sorrow, two is joy. Let will not blind its ire, and walk through gated hellfire.”
Its final message echoed through the room for what seemed like the entire night. As morning came again, the only noise left was the caw of a magpie.
