by DC Alexander
Earthly
Powers
The Adventure Begins
DC Alexander
Copyright © 2015 DC Alexander
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1508522502
ISBN-13: 978-1508522508
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are products of the author’s mind. Any resemblance to any event or person is purely coincidental.
Version 2
For all the people who love to read, I hope you enjoy reading this. I enjoyed writing it.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A lot of people helped and contributed. In no particular order, Jackie, Ellen, Ashley and Mikie, Richie, Nancy, Sherri, Gavin, Dalanee, Jazmyne and Lenore all put up with me doing this and helped. Thank you all, I would never have tried without you. I know missed someone, I apologize. Thank you all.
Chapter One
I leaned back in my recliner looking out the window at the meth heads and crack heads and junkies and little kids. They shuffled and ran and danced and dealt and rode bicycles in the street. Here and there one leaned on whatever would hold them up, nowhere to go and nothing to do. The men and older boys wore those big shorts that hung down around their knees and made them look deformed.
In the hidden corners the druggies were dealing, passing money and baggies back and forth. The neighborhood had gone downhill. You couldn’t see it happening but little by little it became a jungle.
It had to be over a hundred degrees, deep, heavy, wet, stifling and heavy. The air was hot and didn’t move, when a breeze kicked up it felt like a hair dryer. Down in lower Alabama it didn’t just get hot; it got wet, greasy, sweaty, dripping, oozing nasty hot.
Sitting there sweltering hidden under an ‘old woman muumuu’ waiting for the mail to run. Showing my true female shape, even though its not all that good, was just too much like baiting a pack of hungry animals with a piece of meat.
It was about time for the mail to run and I ought to be getting a check today, I needed to get moving.
A little skinny woman delivered the mail. She shoved your shit in the mailbox and left. She didn’t fuck around about it. She knew she was in the hood.
I saw her when she screeched up to the mailbox; she snatched the little mailbox door open and slammed a handful of papers in it as she gunned her little van. She didn’t close it; that took too long. She just chunked the papers at the box, gouged the gas pedal and went.
I had to get on out there and get my mail; if those shitheads got to it first they’d trash it. One was already easing over that way, ambling, looking casual, but getting closer with every pants-clenching stumble and stagger.
I grabbed the door knob and snatched to start it open. It didn’t fit the door frame very well and it dragged on the floor. Somebody had shot the top door hinge off with a shotgun one time.
The door squealed like a pig across the wooden floor, I liked to open it slow and let people know I was coming out.
As I walked across the porch I noticed Wanda Roberts across the street and up a bit at her mailbox, she looked my way. She had some young ’uns over there, and Carl was home, nobody would bother her. She kept an eye out on me, she’d save me if she could and get me married and settled down. Nah, not happening.
Some of the people on the street noticed the door opening when I come out and stopped what they were doing to watch the show, just in case something good happened.
I took my time. It doesn’t pay to act insecure and get in a hurry but I needed to get on out there, that asshole was to the mailbox and making a production of looking it over. I really didn’t want him to take my mail and run; no easy way to deal with that.
He made a big show of looking in the mailbox like he was checking my mail. They didn’t like him or they would have told him to leave my mail alone.
They watched. They knew what was coming. People who didn’t know tended to underestimate me; they saw female, young and overweight, and thought stupid, slow and weak. They expected me to be timid.
This little skinny nothing was maybe five feet tall and looked young. Pants around his knees like a toddler but a little mangy looking patch of hair on his chin said he was older. Most of his boxer shorts showed. He held the pants up with one hand in his crotch. A dingy grayish wifebeater undershirt and a pair of high top tennis shoes with no socks completed his look. Wasn’t much breeze, but I could still smell him. I guess he went for the natural pheromone way of life cuz he was stinking like he had four or five other peoples armpits on him. He stood just out of reach, dancing in place a little; maybe he thought he was a boxer. It made me think he had to urinate. My guts clenched with the tension but I couldn’t let on, I acted like I didn’t see him. He got between me and the mailbox and put his hand on the lid. He talked loud so everybody could hear him; “Hey bitch, let’s get friendly. You IS FE-male aint cha? I might play in yo box if you ax real nice and pay me five dollars!” He pulled on his crotch and poked his hips at me while he made some sort of expression with mostly his mouth, like he was going to blow a smoke ring, lips poked out and eyes squinted down. Then he darted his tongue out and damn he had a big tongue!
Some of his homies thought it was good. Three of them obviously had some relationship with this one, they had come closer. They were slapping palms and strutting like deranged chickens, bent at the waist, high-stepping and grabbing their crotches and bumping into each other. The crotch grabbing and rubbing wasn’t attractive and was evidence of poor self control. Anybody ought to try to get out of sight to fondle themselves. It felt a little dangerous and I wanted to run back inside but if I ever let up it was over for me.
Maybe this jerk thought he was making conversation to introduce himself; some clever small talk. It didn’t come across well. I wasn’t feeling social after he went through my mail and insulted me. The public fondling didn’t do it for me either.
He moved closer. I could smell his breath. It was nasty, fecal smelling and screamed tooth decay. He fondled himself some more and opened his mouth to make another smart ass remark.
I couldn’t even think, the pounding of the blood in my veins made me deaf, and my vision narrowed till all I could see was the wannabe’s sneering face. I watched from somewhere outside myself as I stood solid and firm on the earth like a tower of stone and swung my right hand from down by my left hip at an angle with my arm bent, until I was almost at his head. Then I straightened my arm and clenched my fist as the side of it hit the goon upside of his head. I put my whole body behind that lick; it was good and solid and had that ‘clunk’ feel when the side of my fist impacted him just below his eye on the side of his face. I read that you never hit with your knuckles, it might break them.
He left the ground in a short arc and landed sprawled on his back with his arms and legs poking out limply. I walked over to him and drew back my foot and kicked him mostly in the side of his ass, he slid on the pavement and those loose pants came all the way down round his little skinny ankles but he didn’t care. He looked dead. His eyes were open and staring and glazed and he was twitching in little spastic jerks. My hand stung a little, I cupped my right hand in my left and felt
to see if I had broken anything. It quit tingling so I guessed it was ok, I put my hand in my pocket and gripped my pistol handle. The homies across the street clapped and laughed, one of them hollered “Whooooo! Miz Rosalee you done beat Willie down, I b’lieve you done kilt his ass! He shoulda knowed not to come round here with no shit!”
One of the Roberts boys, Carl, hollered “Rosalee, watch them mothafuckas, they gone try and fuck you up for that!” and started over to my side of the street. Maybe he wanted to help me. I was in some sort of zone where I felt nothing at all; if I felt anything I would collapse, and everything would have been wasted. I couldn’t afford help.
Willie’s homeboys crept closer, I turned to face them “You motha fuckas want some a dis shit? De sto open for whupass. Step right on up and get you some, you crack head motha fuckas.” The closest one fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a little black handled paring knife about three inches long. A paring knife? Holding it low as though he wanted to keep it hidden, he showed it to me like it was a baby, he was that proud of it. That tickled me through my nonchalance, I laughed “fool, what fo you bringin a knife to a gunfight, motha fucka?” pulling my pistol out of the pocket of my housedress, thumbing the hammer back as it came out. He backpedaled and spread his hands out and darted his eyes around looking for a rescue. I bumped the dead mofo with my foot, “I reckermend you take dis here piece a shit outta here and don’t come back round here till you get some manners, bitch. Yo mamma teached you manners mothafucka, or she give up on you when she see what a useless piece a dumb shit you is?”
He said “Yes Ma’am” real polite and put the little knife away. It was dull or he would have cut himself the way he shoved it in his pocket.
The two of them grabbed Willie by the arms and dragged his sorry ass down the street. I thought about telling him he hadn’t answered me but they were gone too fast. Willie’s shorts had come on down his legs as they dragged him away and were stuck on one foot. He moaned, bubbling snot and blood, and even in his sad shape, his ass hitting the pavement as they dragged him had to have hurt, he lifted his ass and the shoe on the foot without the shorts came off. The heel of the bare foot pressed hard on the pavement and he lifted it, letting his ass hit again. Guess he wasn’t dead after all.
He might have been wishing he was dead though. He was losing skin like a cheese grater had him ever time his ass hit pavement. His homies weren’t fucking around getting out of there and they dragged him fast. They went out of sight with Willie looking like he was doing calisthenics; he lifted his foot and his ass dragged, he lifted his ass and his foot hit. I doubled over laughing, that was just funny. The people on the street loved it.
I turned around to go back in the house and one of the the homies across the street hollered “oooo yeah BA-BEE!” The rest of them chimed in, “That some fine ass you got there!” and “I be an ass man, you want I should come over and play?” and complimentary shit like that, they were pretty good neighbors sometimes. I felt the air on my ass and legs, my housedress must be hung up; I reached back and checked and yeah, the damn thing was rucked up and stuck in my underwear. I pulled it out and made sure it was hanging right, making sure I didn’t get in a hurry and went back inside.
I made me up a couple sandwiches with a ham from the fridge. I wrapped one of the sandwiches up in a paper towel and left it on the table. I took the other one with me with some cold buttermilk and headed out for the porch to read my mail. There might be a little breeze outside and my recliner was wet with sweat anyway.
I saw one of the homeboys coming from where he lived two houses down and across the street. There were about nine of those Roberts living there; all the way from just out of diapers to a skinny old granny woman. The momma tried to make them do right and go to school, the grandma was mostly senile. They’d been there since before I moved in here with Grammaw. I wasn’t worried about this one, Carl. I’d gone to school with him for a while. He was a good sort, better than most. He worked and helped support his family. A nice looking young man about twenty or so, if he’d pull his damn shorts up so he could walk and didn’t look like a reject from a moron academy I’d like him a lot better, that pants thing aggravated the hell out of me but I didn’t let on.
I took a quick bite and sip and wrapped my sandwich up in the paper towel and set it all down. I was kinda thinking I might go back in and fry a piece of the ham. That would be mighty fine. Fried anything is better.
Carl came in the yard slow and unusually polite. He stopped well out of my reach, that boy aint stupid; he just dresses that way. He said “Miz Rosalee, ma’am, kin I ax you somethin? “ I had to like that. He spoke as well as I, but we both played the game.
I said “yeah, but you be respectful. I a woman livin’ alone, I aint puttin’ up wid no shit.”
“Yes ma’am. I aint about dissin you.” He rubbed his hands on the legs of his shorts and looked down. “Miz Rosalee, kin you do some hoodoo shit for me?” He was muttering so bad I could barely hear him.
I looked up at the sky and hummed a little tune, I had a good singing voice and I enjoyed using it. I thought about what Carl might want.
I said “Yeah, I see what you need….you worried, it been eatin on you.” I watched the street like everybody did and I’d seen Carl and another man strutting around each other for the past week, they were working up to a fight. He must be worried about it.
I looked at him and said “You got trouble comin yo way, they’s somebody wantin some a you. It a good thing you come to me, I done dreamed about a funeral and yo momma cryin in the rain.” That was partly from a song. I enjoyed throwin it in there but it was a little funny, I did dream about his momma and the funeral, just not in the rain.
He looked properly impressed, standing there with his hands in his pockets. He had to hunker down a little to reach his pockets because he had his damn pants around his knees. That’s the stupidest shit I ever seen, it made me mad every time I saw it, but this wasn’t the time to discuss that.
He said “yeah, well, thing is, that asshole aint got no holdback. If he beats me down, you need to shoot him, right there. Otherwise he is comin’ to see you. His talking about what he gone do with you is part of the problem we got. If you got something that will help me, I’ll fix it for all of us.”
My sandwich was calling to me but this could be interesting. On the other hand, I didn’t want to waste a lot of time messing with him. .
He turned so nobody could see what he was doing and showed me a hundred dollar bill. He just pulled the corner out of his pocket so I could see it. “I got money. This Rashid mothafucka’s pretty bad with a knife, he cut some people up. He get in here he gone run ho’s and set up a crack house. I can’t let that go, it’s already too bad around here.”
Well hell. Carl needed to beat Rashid. I guess I could build him some confidence, at the very least. If he got hurt I’d tell him I saved him from certain death; if he died nobody knew about any deal with me; if he didn’t get hurt I’d get credit for the mojo.
I made up my mind quickly. For some reason, the little hairs on the back of my neck were standing up and my whole body felt prickly with goose bumps. I said “Come yo ass on inside here quick like; don’t want ever body in the world to know our bidness” I grabbed my snack and got up.
He went in first while I held the door open. Nobody was getting behind me in my house. “Go right on through to the kitchen, we gone sit down at the table and get everything ready.” My hands were full so I pushed the door closed behind us with my ass.
There wasn’t but one chair in the kitchen. There aint but one of me and I didn’t encourage a lot of company and the other chairs broke. He looked around at me so I told him “set yo self down in the chair.”
He was good looking enough, maybe 19 or 20, a year or two older than me. Slim, probably six foot tall, with a decent haircut most of the time. He stayed busy all the time, and did whatever he could to help at home. He looked lost with his skinny ass perched up on the edge of that
big old chair. I’d already put the food up, but the table still had some stuff on it so there wasn’t any place he could lean and he was a natural leaner, so he held on to the edge of the table just for something to do with his hands.
I got a quick bite of sandwich and a swallow of milk to wash it down with and put my snack away on the counter behind some stuff and out of sight. We were doing business.
I’d give him a show and it would make him feel better and give him confidence. It needed some drama, I’d give him his money’s worth. He needed to believe he had mojo. But damn, I was feeling funny, excited and somehow driven. Almost like I had seen this before, maybe I had dreamed something like it but I didn’t remember it.
I cleared some stuff off the table so I had room and got my little knife out of the sink. I was thinking I’d use the knife to get some blood from him, anybody knew you needed blood to make a good hoodoo. I chunked the knife in front of him and told him “I need a little blood from you.” I looked around for things to make it good. My candle was in the kitchen window, it was black. I’d found it somewhere and figured I’d have a use for it at some point. There were some spider webs in the corners of the window; spider webs were always good for spooky so I grabbed some of them too.
People call them cobwebs. I’d never seen a cob. Those are fucking spiders that make the webs, when there is a spider web there is a spider made it. You find a cob, you check and see aint it got eight legs and eats bugs, which is mighty close to the definition of a spider in my book.
There was a spider in one of the webs. I looked close to make sure it wasn’t a brown recluse or black widow. It wasn’t so I grabbed it careful with the corner of a paper towel. I was muttering and humming the whole time so it sounded like I was making hoodoo. I was getting goose bumps all over me and shivers up my spine, it damned near scared me it was so good, and Carl was getting in the right mood, he was pale and sweaty faced.