SLClimer - Rumours of the Grotesque

by Rumours of the Grotesque (v1. 0) [lit]

  That was five months ago, and since then the boys had come to get her three times. Lurl, as she now wanted to be called, had the bird-like thinness of her mama, but she was tall and attractive like her father. Her hair was dyed midnight black and earrings dangled from multiple holes in her lobes and cartilage. And instead of being chaste, she chose to wear an open blouse that revealed her only defect—the succulent third breast growing between the other two. The Parker bloodline had blessed her with something the boys all liked, not like her mother's extra leg. Not a day went by, not an hour, that she didn't remember all those boys touching her, caressing her, making her feel like a woman.

  "You're such a freak, Lurleen,” said one of the mind-numb teenagers whose right eye was level with his nostrils.

  "Shut up, Billy, and go screw a goat. We all know you do,” she snapped. “You're just too stupid to know there's more out there than hillbillies."

  "Yeah, talk now, girl,” said another one of the big boys. “We'll see who's talkin’ later."

  "You know what's gonna happen?” Billy asked rhetorically. “First, they's gonna go git those boys and throw ‘em in the river..."

  "It's all a lie,” Lurleen interrupted. “They don't do nothin’ in this barn, Jethro. They ain't gonna do nothing to those boys. They're just gonna scold me and tell me to stop actin’ out. My mama tells me the same thing."

  "It ain't all they're gonna do.” Billy smiled. “I know what they're gonna do."

  "What?” she demanded. “You think they're gonna string me up like that ol’ head in there?” She laughed.

  Billy fell stone quiet as did all of kids. They heard activity rise in the barn. Several shouts were heard: it was Martin's loud voice demanding justice for the River. Other voices joined in support. And yet others returned the shouts with words of compassion. Both sides quoted the Lord. Both sides talked about the River.

  Suddenly, all of their arguing and talking ceased. For the first time, Lurleen was scared. The air was dense and heavy with decision. Maybe she had pushed them all too far? Should she have shown more respect? Her pulse quickened beneath Billy's tight grip. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the ragged-cut boards of the sliding partition. Figures moving about severed the beams, and dust rose in clouds like summer gnats. There was definite activity—and frightening silence—from the big room of Shamus's barn.

  Then, someone from the other side slid the heavy door open. It was Judd Parker. His enormous frame was sheathed in a worn yellow raincoat. There were rusty stains on the ancient garment, and he had the withered hood pulled over his greasy head. In his hands, he held enough raincoats for all of the kids. Each of the yellow coats was embossed with the black logo of the Tennessee Valley Authority—Oakridge.

  Lurleen swallowed fearfully, her gut burning. The others also bore expressions of terror. It had been years since they'd seen the coats. The adults could never know they were there those many years ago, sneaking and peeking. The last time, they were all kids hiding in the loft of the barn. They had always wondered what the grown-ups were doing in Shamus's barn, and one day they crept away from Old Lady Parker who was watching them. After witnessing the lurid meeting of the adult riverfolk, the kids vowed to never speak of it again—to anyone.

  Lurleen accepted her coat and put it on. Her father used to work for TVA at the Oakridge Nuclear Testing Labs. He was the one who brought the coats to Parkerville. She remembered the stories her mama told about the coats, that in the darkness of night they would light up like a firefly. Soon, though, even that magic faded over years of use. The other teens accepted their coats, tears bursting from their eyes as they put them on.

  Her feet felt like lead, and walking was the labor of the damned. She knew escape was impossible; the riverfolk were deadly serious with her. Inside, her stomach swirled, churned, attempted to push puke past her teeth. All three of her nipples stood erect as cool river air blew in. The big teens reluctantly towed her the final few yards into the barn's main room.

  The memory of what they had all seen that night ten years ago was fresh in their minds. For Lurleen, it was especially difficult, for it was her father, Lewis, who had worn one of the yellow coats. They had called him the man from across the River. Although he was a distant Vesper cousin, he was not one of them.

  There was no talking among the townsfolk. They stood in a great circle, all in yellow coats with hoods drawn, in the center of the barn. Kerosene lamps hung along the stalls, casting flickering shadows throughout the place. Hay dust and animal smells coated her lungs as they led her to the circle. She knew not to say a word; even the whisper of a mosquito in the back of her mind was unthinkable.

  "Lurleen Vesper.” Judd spoke with stoic authority. He struggled to hide the trauma racing through his body. “We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River. You've gone wild. You've seen the outside world, and you brought its wicked ways back to our town. For this, you must repent. We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River. You must be the one to deliver us from the evil of the outside world, Lurleen.” With a motion from his hand, the folk opened the circle. “Step forward."

  Within the circle of TVA raincoats stood an ancient alter hewn from immense cabers of the forest. It was over six feet long and eight feet wide, and it straddled a shallow pit. Rugged ax blows could still be seen from when the structure was built. Thick ancient ropes held it together, and stakes anchored it firmly in the soil.

  As she walked forward, the crowd began a methodical, low chant:We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River ... We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River...

  How could she have been so careless and flip, Lurleen asked herself. These people were her people, and they were serious. She had flaunted her hair and her pierced ears. She had even drunk and smoked with the boys, let them touch her breasts and take her virginity. The head of the stranger dangled above the rustic altar, its dried jawbone still clinging desperately to the remaining teeth after being picked clean of flesh by the crows years ago.

  "It is up to you, Lurleen, to drive the evil from our town.” Judd led her to the top of the altar. “We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River."

  The circle closed, and all Lurleen could do was look up at the dangling head. She looked hard into the darkness that was high up into the rafters. There was not just one skull, but many. She'd never noticed them before, but it had been years since she was in Shamus's barn. They didn't hang by ropes; perhaps that is the reason she didn't see them before. They were nailed, skewer-style, to the tin roof. Rain dripped through the holes, then trickled out of their mouths and empty nose sockets. Several drops hit Lurleen in the face, running into her eyes, down her cheeks, into her mouth, and down into the channels of her cleavage.

  All of the riverfolk suddenly turned their backs to Lurleen. The sound of their feet shuffling in unison struck a chord of remembered horror. She glanced at Billy, hoping to see his oafish face, but his coat was an obstruction. However, she noticed tears falling down the front of his raingear from beneath the yellow hood. He remembered, too.

  Judd continued the town's centuries-old ritual. “We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River. The River says it is the evil of the outside that brought the floods; we failed to stop the evil. The River tells us to stop it here, tonight, and take back our town. We must defend our very lives against the sins of the flesh."

  Judd walked the circle from the inside like an obscene game of duck-duck-goose. He paused at each yellow back as he spoke. “Evil must be driven from our lands, from our families. We must save our children. And if we can't save our children as mother or father, then we must do it as one."

  His hand fell upon the left shoulder of one of the people. The small framed person sobbed in heavy whispers as two others prevented her from falling to the ground. She was brought to the altar by the others, and the circle closed behind them without missing a beat of their collective heart. Judd returned to the altar with them. The woman stood face to face with him, then took down her
hood. Velma was crying in deep sobs, her nose red and running with snot, her stumpy leg twitching beneath the coat. She was the chosen one.

  "It is up to you, Velma. The evil of the outside is from you. It is of your doing.” Judd motioned with his hand, and the two who had brought Velma forth opened the door over the shallow pit. “It must end with you. We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River, and you alone can redeem our town.

  "You married Lewis Vesper, and although he was a distant cousin, he was not a part of us. We are at fault, too, but you gotta take the responsibility."

  Judd reached out for her coat. He unbuttoned the top three buttons and took the yellow slicker off her shoulders. Velma's last shred of hope, her final splinter, had been taken.

  Nude, she stood before the congregation of her town. Her skin was desperately thin and pale, barely able to keep her veins from unwinding and pooling at her feet. Her third leg twitched, like a runt puppy begging for attention. Judd lowered his hand and lifted the appendage. Scornfully, he gazed at the blood-red nail polish adorning each malformed digit. The outside world was indeed within poor Velma.

  Judd led her over to the shallow pit where she stood face to face with Lurleen. Both mother and daughter wailed.

  "Please, no,” Lurleen begged. “I'll never do it again. I'll never do anything again!"

  "Listen to her,” Velma echoed. “She speaks the truth!"

  "It's too late for any of that,” Judd said and turned toward an immense sledgehammer resting against the altar.

  The riverfolk turned to face the altar.

  "This is the hammer of my forefathers. This hammer beat Parkerville out of this hill and made a home for us all. This hammer drove the wickedness out of our town, drove the evil out of Lewis Vesper.” Judd pointed to the roof stapled thick with the skulls of strangers. “The hammer of my forefathers kept all of them away from our children, our land, and our river."

  Judd strode over to stand between the Vesper women: one coated and one naked. With the hammer in his hand, the implement of justice, he abandoned all of his reservations. The sight of the painted nails further diminished his capacity for mercy. Punishment and righteousness of his ancestors rested in the heavy, rusted head of the forty-pound hammer. He had indeed prayed to the Lord and been to the River.

  "Get into the pit,” he ordered.

  "I love you, mama."

  "I love you, too, baby. Can you forgive me for doin’ wrong by you? Now, you have to suffer because of me."

  "Oh, mama, can you forgive me?"

  They fell into a deep embrace, which Judd allowed. Finally, he pulled them apart and repeated the order. Velma gave Lurleen one last peck of a kiss, then stepped into the hole. The attendants clamped the heavy boards around her head and neck; poor Velma couldn't move. Only her shoulders and head stood above the altar.

  "Now, Lurleen, you must drive the evil from her."

  She took the heavy iron hammer from Judd Parker. The initial weight made it almost fall out of her hands, but she regained control. Lurleen pulled her hood down as far as it would go over her eyes. She didn't want to see her mama's head, not like she saw her daddy's so many years ago. That was him dangling overhead, gazing down upon his wife and daughter with hollow, dead eyes. This was his legacy.

  Lurleen could hear them all chanting the chant...

  We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River...

  We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River...

  We've prayed to the Lord and gone to the River...

  Drawing back with all of her might, Lurleen let the momentum carry the first blow. The metal impacted her mother's head with such force, blood sprayed a new layer of gore onto Judd Parker's raincoat. The nearly inaudible gasp of Velma made its way to Lurleen's ears. In the hole, Velma's painted toes flexed in agony.

  The girl felt strands of her dyed-black hair on her neck, and her earrings snagged the inner lining of the old TVA raincoat.I'm the reason for the evil in our town , Lurleen heard the voice in her head.It's all my fault that I now must drive the devil from my mother.

  She let fly with another blow. This time, Velma's scalp separated from her head. Pieces of bone and brain splattered across the altar and Judd Parker's raincoat. From beneath the hood, she could see her mama's pathetic condition: barely clinging to life, dazed and unaware of the next blow, blood streaming from the cracks in her skin and skull. And as the riverfolk chanted to the Lord and the River, all Lurleen could hear was...

  The fields have grown over now, years since they've seen the plow ... is it really him or the loss of my innocence ... Like strawberry wine ... my first taste of love....

  She couldn't help but think of the boys in snakeskin boots, wearing backwards ballcaps, driving pickup trucks, and caressing her three breasts.

  Based on a True Story

  Do you mind if I have a cigarette? I'm so damn nervous, I messed up some ol’ lady's perm this morning. I hate to have to go to work after what happened, but I got bills to pay.

  I swear to God this story is true. Why would I call y'all if I didn't have the truth to tell? I don't particularly care for your kind of news. I didn't wanna come down here.Commercial Appeal , y'all never cover what's important.

  Don't look at me like I'm crazy. My sister's dead and I saw it all. She was killed by her own twin—still livin’ inside her body. Look at me, still shakin’ like a leaf just tellin’ someone about it. Do you think I want to be here if I didn't have to? No sir. My preacher said the devil comes upon the earth in many forms, and I saw it.

  No one, but no one, believes me. I'll tell you the truth, by God. It's so true, even truer than the hair on my own head. She's dead, by golly, she's dead. You didn't answer, mind if I light a cigarette? It's my only vice, well that and men. I could really use a smoke right about now. As sure as I sit here breathin’ she's in her coffin sittin’ in Grandberry Funeral Home. Papa's too poor and the rest of us have families to take care of. We couldn't afford this, ‘cause she didn't have any insurance.

  Tell you about it? I'll tell you about it right now. I'm desperate to bury my poor sister, but I ain't got a cent. I used what I had to get the coffin, and creepy Mr. Grandberry wants the rest. That's the only reason I came to your butcher paper. Sure, we all buy ‘em, I'm guilty. I got ‘em sittin’ around my shop. But I'd believe your rag now ‘cause I saw it. If I hadn't seen it, I'd laugh at the fool who told me this story. Do you have an ashtray? Thanks.

  It came on so quick. Maggie came home from school up north. She's the only one of us to ever go to college, well a real college. I went to beauty college. We were all so proud of her. We all gathered for Papa's birthday at Cracker Barrel. Maggie wore a college shirt with the name on it. She was so proud, we were all so proud. Honestly, I was a little jealous, too. Always smart, always pretty. I was stupid—and got pregnant and screwed up my life. But I'm not here about me.

  We all ordered our food. I had chicken, and Maggie was the only one who had fish. She stopped eating meat up at college. She was queer like that. Said it hurt her stomach. Her roommates were vegetarian hippies. I told her she'd end up like them.

  My sister was uppity from the day she was born. She was supposed to be a twin, you know. All the doctors said it. Mama had an ultrasound early on because she was gettin’ up there in age, and they saw two of ‘em in there. But when it came time to be born, only one came out.

  That was hard on mama. She had such a hard birth, and she was heartbroke that there was only one when all the doctors said there's two of ‘em. We all thought they just made a mistake. She was ready for twins and told everyone about them.

  It's hot in here, can you open a window? God, nothin's hotter than Memphis in July. I feel like I'm talkin’ a million miles a minute. Stop me if I'm goin’ too fast, but I'm nervous, Mister.

  Soon after, mama died. I think it was a broken heart ‘cause Maggie was so hard-headed. Even as a baby, she wouldn't sleep, wouldn't play right. Even a good lickin’ wouldn't straighten her out. I think
that's what killed our mama. All mama or papa had to do was show the rest of us the belt, and we'd crumble. Not Maggie. He could whip her ten times a day, and she would still act out. I even lied to protect her once, and I got beat senseless. She didn't even thank me and said I was stupid ‘cause she could take it and I couldn't.

  She did good in school, though. No matter what grief she gave mama while she was livin', Maggie always made the family proud at school. She was the first to go to college, but I already mentioned that. She made the rest of us feel pretty dumb, at least me. She was so smart they let her go for free.

  One thing I ain't told you about Maggie was she was kinda big. She wasn't fat, but she was big just like mama. So we had no reckonin’ what was goin’ on. That it was livin’ there, just waitin'. Mind if I have another cigarette?

  I ain't askin’ you to believe me. I don't really care if you do or not. I know it's true, and I'm here for my sister. We were best friends. Well, at the Cracker Barrel, Maggie started not feelin’ good. She complained of pains in her side, and we thought it might be her appendix. We took her home to see if she would get better, but she just got worse.