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Authors: Richard Heredia

Tags: #love, #marriage, #revenge, #ghost, #abuse, #richard, #adultery consequences, #bane

The Birth of Bane (32 page)

BOOK: The Birth of Bane
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I back-peddled
into the middle of the alley, sputtering, “What are
you?”


I am a woman,”
she hissed,
grabbing at herself, long, withered fingers made bright with
exposed bone, clutching, rubbing, and then disappearing into her
unsightly folds.

I swallowed hard
to keep the contents of my stomach where they belonged. “Leave me
alone,” I tried to warn her, though my voice was so strangled I
didn’t sound all that menacing.

Her smile was so
broad, her skull, beneath her parchment-like flesh, began to crack.
Tiny motes of dust fell to the floor, wisps of the same popped
outward to either side of her.
“All boys like me, young one. They all do. Come and let me
show you.”
She reached for me
once more, though I was well out of the way.


Stop!”


Come -,”
she began, intent
on saying more.

Without warning,
a huge claw-like hand shot forth from the chamber behind her, the
light reflecting, refracting in a thousand, thousand rays – every
single shade in the rainbow and a million more. With fingers as big
around as my waist, the glass-beast squeezed, holding her firm,
pulling her back into the chamber.

She laughed like
she was being tickled, her head thrown back, her mouth as wide as
it could go, while her midsection was systematically crushed within
the creature’s grasp.

I was rooted
where I stood. My slippers seemed to melt into the asphalt
water-channel, running down the middle of the alley.

The thing made
of glass, too big to see through the doors, bent down, balanced
upon its’ other implausible hand, shoving what was left of Lenny’s
mother into its’ gaping maw. Bizarre, needle-like teeth ripped her
to shreds in seconds, dust and other detritus from the grave
littered the ground below it.

My lascivious
ancestor was consumed. She convulsed with laughter the entire
time.

I shook with
repugnance, yanking my feet from the metaphysical goo of the
deliquesced asphalt and ran. How far? I cannot tell you. All I know
is the sound of my slippers slapping against the concrete floor of
the alley seemed to sound in my ears for an eternity. My breathing
became hoarse, labored. My chest filled with pain as my legs became
ladened with lactic acid. They pleaded for me to stop, to rest. I
couldn’t though. I had to get away. I had to put as much distance
between me and the glass and the clothes, and my grandmother, as
possible. There was nothing more important than that.

I
ran.

I ran and ran,
ran and ran… for longer than I ever ran in my life. To me, there
was no concept of time. I was running, football fields, miles,
maybe a marathon worth of distance. I was never able to discern, no
matter how hard I tried over the years.

Simply, I
ran.

An hour later, a
minute later, her voice came, and halted all – my thoughts, my
forward motion, even my breathing and quite nearly - my
heart.


Where are
you going so
fast?”
Her chuckle was
undeniable.
“You should take
your time, relax. Maybe stay a while…”

I turned toward
the sultry tones.

She was in a
doorway, leaning against the frame, her weight on one leg. Her arms
were crossed below her large breasts, their spongy tops showing.
The neckline of her silken blouse plunged as usual. It was without
sleeves, black, displaying her tanned arms. Even in the blue glow
of the alley, her skin was flawless. She had one a pair of sheer,
black tights, though they could’ve been thick pantyhose for all I
knew. I could practically see through them, see the inviting
wheat-colored flesh underneath. Her boots were leather, heeled, as
dark as night, ending at the knee with long, sensual zippers
running up the inner sides.

I stared into
the raven looks of Rosalyn Galtier; my one-time father’s the
make-believe administrative assistant, who had called herself
Roxanna. She wasn’t playing the dominatrix now. There was no riding
crop in her hands. There were no straps, no metal nipple rings, no
spikes or buckles or anything belying her desire to overwhelm the
men she fucked. She was trying at reticence, which was so unlike
her, it was arresting, only not in the manner she had
intended.


What are you
doing here?” I asked, accusing, as though she was the one
responsible for dragging Lenny down into this freak-show of an
alley.


I was waiting,”
she began,
nibbling at the nail of her pinky finger, looking through her
eyelashes at me,
“I
guess.”
She breathed deeply, her
tits rising majestically.
“Yeah,
I was waiting to see what might happen by.”

I scowled. Her
timid approach was becoming a nuisance. It would’ve been better if
she’d continued to be the bitch we both knew she was. Why the
farce? It was untoward. She was a rude, insensitive, sex-fiend. Why
try to be something she wasn’t? It was a waste of my
time.


And now, you’ve come on by.”
She exhaled the next part.
“Imagine that…”


Get off the
act, bitch. I don’t have time for any of your fucken games. Have
you seen my father?” I winced. It hurt to call him such. A part of
me, deep in my soul had altered the social bonds between us.
Calling him a parent of mine didn’t fit anymore.

Rosalyn was
shaking her pretty little head in the negative, her lips
pouting.
“He ain’t around here,
honey.”


What do you mean by that? Was he here earlier?” I strode
toward her. Her eyes were only an inch lower than mine, the heels
of her boots were
that
high.

She came from
the doorframe to stand on both feet, her hands falling to her
side.
“I don’t know, darling.
Like I said, I was just waiting. I haven’t searched the place over
yet.”

I let out an
exasperated burst of air. “Whatever. I gotta go.” I began to move
away from her.


Don’t go!”
she pleaded
suddenly.

I gazed at her
over my shoulder. “I wasn’t kidding around, Rosalyn. I really don’t
have time for your bullshit.”

Her face drooped
with hurt.
“You don’t have to be
so mean, Jerry.”


Are you
serious?” My incredulity was towered. “You were screwing my dad,
having dudes pork him up the ass, while he was still married to my
mother! Don’t you think you’ve earned my anger?”

Her shoulders
slumped. She looked down at her feet.


Do you know how
much trouble you’ve caused? How can you stand there and think, for
one second, why I shouldn’t be mad at you, that I shouldn’t harbor
an ill-will toward you?” I gesticulated wildly. “I know their
marriage was almost over, but you didn’t have to be the one to
actually break it. They could’ve found that out on their own. They
didn’t need you. We didn’t need to see you big, skanky ass shaking
in our faces.” I sighed, disgusted. “Really, we didn’t.”

She gazed up at
me, tears welling. Her voice was husky with emotion.
“I’m not a bad person. You can at least
see that, right?”

I shook my
head.
The gall of this woman was
incredible!
“Rosalyn, you are a
very bad person.”

I know it was
harsh, but the pure embitterment coursing through my veins
overpowered my sense of tact. I had to speak the truth. I couldn’t
lie, not then, not after what she’d done to my family. Yes,
it
was
true - my parents’ marriage had probably been over for
quite some time. Yes, my father was abusive. Yes, we were all
better off without him. But still, it gave her no right!

I was dead-set
on making her understand that point,
every facet of it.

Before me, she
began to cry.

I couldn’t help
myself. I rolled my eyes. “Good-bye, Rosalyn,” I said with a
dismissive flick of my wrist, and walked away.


No! No! Don’t go! Jerry, come back!”
she begged.

Suddenly, her
hand was on my arm, pulling me, making my swivel at the
waist.

She was hugging
me before I knew what was happening, her breasts smashing up
against the transitional area between my chest and abdomen, her
hands clutching about my shoulder blades.
“Don’t leave me, Jerry! Please, stay with me. Let me make
it up to you. I know I’ve caused all sorts of problems for you
family. I know I haven’t been the best person I could be. I can do
better. I know I can! Let me prove it to you. Let me show you. Ok?
Will you let me do that for you?”
The words poured from her, as if she couldn’t stop them. The
entire time her head was turned to the side, her smallish earlobe
was plastered to the pectoral muscle of my left side.

I couldn’t see
the expression on her face. She sounded genuine enough, but with
her, with a woman possessing such twisted appetites, I wanted to be
sure she was really feeling what she was espousing. I grabbed her
by the shoulders and forcibly pushed her away from me, making her
eyes meet mine. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded,
shaking her slightly. I wanted answers. I had no time for games.
Something was telling me, every second I delayed the farther and
farther I was from finding Lenny, from finding the
truth.

She stared up at
me, mascara running, orbs more like a raccoon’s than features of
the dark, thirty-something she was.

I could only
assume her tears were of the reptilian nature. Yet, time had run
out. Those moments for extraneous bullshit had passed. “I can’t
stay here, Rosalyn. I have to go.”

Her pretty face
bunched, dread seeping into her features. Either this was real or
she was as good as Glenn Close at playing the femme
fatale.

I held onto her
elbows, squeezed them gently. “I
have
to go.”

Her head shot
up.
“Take me with
you!”

My brow furled.
I hadn’t thought of that. My only intention had been getting away
from her.

But what if
she’s really scared, Jer? You gonna leave her here all
alone?

I shook my head
at myself.
I don’t
care.

My hand streaked
out, grasping her jaw, my palm flexing along its’ whole length.
“You make damned sure you stay the hell out of my way.” I made sure
she was peering directly into my gaze.

I held her there
for a second longer, but couldn’t any longer.

From a sizable
trash bin, no more than fifteen yards down the way I’d ran,
something moved. It was something very, very big.

My eyes tracked
the movement automatically, over Rosalyn’s shoulder, through the
stray locks of her onyx-colored hair. I saw its’ foot first,
although it didn’t look like a foot per se. It took me a second or
two to figure out I was watching a clawed tarsus. Yes, that’s what
was! It was the barbed end of a spider’s leg.

Then, another
came, and another.

I backed away
from Rosalyn, letting go of her. “If you’re serious about coming
with me, then now seems like a good time to do just that,” I
urged.

She swung about,
her feet shifting. Her hand came to her mouth, a horrified gasp
rattling her entire frame.
“Oh,
god,”
she said. It sounded like
a prayer.

We needed
one.

Its’ pedipalpi
and cephalothorax edged over the rim of the trash bin, its’ four
pairs of eyes – some minute, others massive – as black and lifeless
as a murky pool searched the area for a heartbeat. Then, they found
us. They did not look away.

I had never
stopped my retreat and made to stride away. “Rosalyn! Now’s the
time!”


Ok,”
she
agreed.

I circled away,
but not before I saw the rest of the gigantic beast leap from the
industrial-sized, refuse container to land upon the ground with a
tremendous
thump!
I had only a fraction of a second to
comprehend the spider was multi-colored, brilliantly so, every
shade of every precious stone I could imagine. It was beautiful,
and it was huge.

Then, it shot
its’ web at us. It wasn’t fibrous. It wasn’t even sticky. It was a
long, laser-straight stream of crystal, fast, sharp –
deadly.

It hit the
ground near Rosalyn’s feet, shattering the asphalt as though it was
made of glass.

She
screamed.

I
ran.

 

~~~~~~~<<<

>>>~~~~~~~

 

Chapter Twenty:
Adrift

 

When the second
crystalline web impacted the ground, no more than four feet away, I
realized there was more than one. Instinctively, I juked to the
left and then deftl
y
side-stepped in the opposite direction, hoping to throw off this
second assailant, wherever it was.

BOOK: The Birth of Bane
6.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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