HOME | DD

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

   Fate?   Fatal?   Reason was exhausted, only a vague determination was left to see this through to whatever end.   Grey followed from afar, eyes fixed straight ahead on whatever happened to be there, a plaid pattern stretched across a broad back where the multiple scapulae of her shoulders came together.   Muscle and bone flexed against the fabric, alternating, taking turns straining against it for breathing room, the volume of loose cloth underneath pulled in as well with the motion.   She moved almost adrift, the sway in her steps was defiantly small and atypically graceful, made with little effort; muscular, long arms counterbalancing and mirroring those motions, cascading down her body loosely offset for a fair allowance of space.   Nothing was said, indeed there was no sound.   It was as if nothing was happening, or had happened the past week.   It had been a fever dream beginning with a fiery haired nurse and ending where? This must be where he wakes up...

   There were the double-door's that lead to an escape from this insanity before it infected him, a few steps from reach.   Why didn't he use them?   Instead he was returning to the center of her lair.   He must already be ensnared, and the means to her cold sustenance.

The first worn step, with its well rounded edges of bare wood, creaked as it yielded to his foot, the sound of which caused Grey to stop and instinctively glance back a final time at the doors, but the thought still refused to form.   Meghan instead took each single step in its turn, rising higher and higher in front of him, with the same deliberate motion as she had met them with, now two right hands gripping the arm rail, the top leading, the bottom trailing behind her, each assisting in turn.   She spoke as she climbed, soft and wistful, weaving a tale that drew him in despite what could be inferred from her words.

   "I bought this place as soon as I had enough income to afford it.   It was good enough, and far away from my parents or anyone else I knew.   It seems everyone, even beasts and monsters, seem to have that imperative to get away from their parents and become their own person."   Meghan threw a quick glance rearward to make sure he was still following.   The rays of light from the passageway upstairs could be individually distinguished in the airborne dust, creating a halo around her form as Grey lie in the eclipse.   "I got it right after some hurricane came through here and flooded the first floor.   They had repaired all they could, but they gave it away on the cheap.   Well, I moved a few things in, ordered some more and had some work done to make this my home.   Old and run down like everyone's first home should be..."

   Meghan stopped mid-way up the final stair.   She raised her head to the light, her eyes closed and she fell silent for a moment.   "No...you want the truth.   Well...here it is."   She checked yet again to be certain, catching a glimpse of Grey's concern between her arms.   Her pace quickened just slightly.   The stool still sat by her latest project which was hidden once more, and she straddled it, her feet underneath still bearing much of her weight.   Knees drawn up to her chest held wide apart, one giving a large pop as in protest.   Meghan took a cleansing, silent breath.   Grey remained standing well off, his arms crossed for lack of a place to rest them.

   "Go on, please."

   "The truth is...I had met someone over the internet on one of those matchmaking sites.   We E-mailed, he seemed nice.   I got a webcam so we could talk.   We laughed, we cried, he understood me...I thought he did.   He was going to college in Newark, Delaware for engineering.   This was as close as I could get to him; I was desperate to meet him...he said I was beautiful...I invited him down before this place was even finished.   I really liked him, I thought he might fell the same way about me...He seemed safe."

   "I watched all that afternoon from the windows up here, watching for his crappy, broken down Subaru Outback.   I was so nervous I ate a package of Oreo's waiting as I sat right at that window over there."   Meghan pointed directly at one of the many candidates without looking.   She only saw memories, and arms swam through them.   "Finally he came smogging his way down the driveway.   I was at the door before he even knocked, with a huge floppy sweater on and hoped he wouldn't notice my other arms.   He knocked.   I waited as long as I could before I opened it, maybe even ten seconds.   I opened that door, thinking it was going to be one of the best nights of my life and he fell on his ass.   Jaw dropped, deer in the headlights, the whole damn thing.   He literally crab walked about twenty feet before he managed to drag himself up, muttering about something he had forgotten in the car for me.   I never saw him again. We talked a couple of times later.   He apologized in one of them.   That was it."

   "You want to say something, you know you have to, but you don't want the ride to end.   I thought I tried.   I don't even know what I was planning to do if he stayed.   I thought love would find a way I guess.   I was a young fool."

   Except for her top hands free-falling to slap her sides, she returned to stillness, bracing her weight with her lowest elbows braced on thighs.   Twice she gave a furtive glance at him.   A lock of hair fell onto her cheek as her head tilted slightly.

   "I wish I..."   Grey was cut off with a wave of a couple hands and a raised finger.

   "No, I don't want you pity.   Stop talking for once and let me finish."   He complied, not from any authority or threat in her tone, but the distinct lack thereof.

   "I tried again years later, found a guy that seemed alright, not great.   Who was I to have high standards?   At least he said he liked BBW's.   He was a tall guy himself, six-seven, a college basketball stud until he almost tore his foot off or something.   Well, this one got in the door.   He was impressed to say the least, but he kept his cool until the alcohol he brought with him started flowing.   Rum and coke was his thing, said it made him feel sophisticated.   He got hammered drunk and started spouting on about how he was into the leather and chains, and wanted me to beat him to submission; a real classy fuck.   I got fed up with him real quick, so I pulled off my sweater, the same one from years before in fact, and said something to the effect of, 'that's great, 'cause I have a lot of ways I can abuse you all at once'.   I was another 'boy meets girl, boy runs for his life' kind of story.   I don't even know how he found the door as shitfaced as he was.   He might of just oozed under it."

   " 'Don't waste your love on somebody that doesn't value it.'   I knew the value of a dollar, up here, working every day.   How do I value love?   Is it the same as everyone?   After that I messed with nerds and pervs online and ran away from anyone that seemed 'normal'.   I just was done with caring, and then you drug yourself under my door.   'Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.' "

   Meghan leaned back towards her covered project.   Her head looked up and over towards its tan coverings, running the back of one hand over its coarse weave.   He lowest pair of hands touched the floor, and braced her slightly. "Come closer, please."

    Grey did not know exactly what she wanted, but he did as she bid and took a knee just outside her own.   She reached for his hands with her free middle ones, and held them together cupped in her own just ever so slightly in fear.   She gazed into his eves with a tender longing that would never hurt him.   Eyes that conveyed more than words could say, and in an instant where words would fail.

    "My Stray, I am a 34-year-old virgin, who clock is ticking and who has never has even been kissed by someone who actually meant it.   I'm messed up a dozen different ways, obsessive-compulsive, manic, agoraphobic and probably a few other things I don't even know about.   It's not safe here.   It's a prison, always seeing without understanding, and I am its warden.   I would be your jailer if I could.   If you have any sense, you free yourself now!"

   "I believe we came up here for a purpose.   Nothing has been revealed that I have not known."

   "Don't you get it you idiot?   I'm dangerous."

   "Then prove it, force your will on me, I cannot remove myself."

   "I can't.   I won't even pretend to...Just go..."   She trailed off at this, but still would not break eye-contact with him, or release his hands.   Neither would he take them from her.   These were a life-line to a woman fallen into the sea.   Tears fell in her stormy eyes that she refused to wipe away, which would mean admitting their presence.   A storm that left them both groping in the gloom, passing each other in ignorance in an attempt at gripping anything to steady themselves.

   "I still owe you a window; I have to finish that at least.   We had a business arrangement, remember?" Certitude, yes or no, a slap in the face or the bearing of his soul, not this, Meghan gave the slightest of shudders as she began to understand the meanings of his words, then a glint in her eye as she broke contact with him, rising to her feet with effort.

   "Ok, fine.   I can work with you...on that."   Meghan pulled him to his feet before he even realized what she was doing, landing him deep inside personal space, indeed his nose fell nearly between the curves of her breasts, his head nearly rivaling them by size.   "Sorry, I forgot how light you are..."

   "Uhm...you wanted to show me something?"

   "Yes...my work."   Meghan slid one foot back, twisting and thrusting her torso to reach the drop cloth with her three left hands.   The two upper-right hands slid up to her waist and hip, now giving Gray almost a side profile view and an awkward one, something like a young teen girls self-photo when she's looking for attention.

    "It's not quite finished, just so you know. I'm rather proud of it.   Usually I end up with nature themes, or corporation crap, things that pay the bills.   I've done smalls that I would consider art.   This was the first one that was all mine, that I can be proud of.   My idea, commissioned by a private party that really understood what I was attempting, I'm hoping it leads to a new phase in my work."   She didn't jerk the covering off; she lifted it over with the care of a doting parent, straightening herself as she lifted.

   Grey had been hauled to many museums as a child, as well as art galleries, shown-off to clients, rivals, and hangers-on like one of the pieces owned.   He had refused to learn the names, the styles or the artists to spite everyone there.   But he remembered the works, and from his travels and the all the different jobs he had done; he leaned the many different ways of crafting on object.   He understood the complexity of what he saw in front of him, and it captivated him more then he would ever admit.   He had been entirely snared.

   It was a burgundy heart carved out of marble, resting on rough, riveted iron arms, standing at almost six feet tall, just a couple of inches shorter then himself.   The hands had been chromed, but in such a way that some of the chrome had appeared to have split or flaked off, showing ugly rust beneath.   Hands that once held up and cradled the heart, were now tearing at it with fingers gouging in furious attempts to pull it apart.   Out of the heart, from its silvery marble veins, came thin streams of copper, silver and gold, which ran down the hands and wrists, or fell freely mixing into a pool at the base.

   "Blood from a stone."   Grey stated after several minutes of studying it chin in hand, silent while Meghan watched in naked anticipation.

   "Not exactly, although that is a good part of it.   It's the strength and vulnerability, and betrayal.   The wearing of the soul and good intentions and...sorry, I don't have the words to explain it like I need to."

   "You don't have to, its right here."   Meghan almost hopped in childish glee at this, boards groaning in reaction.

   "Really?   It was the first time I had worked with stone, this was my third heart.   The first one is an expensive and over-sized doorstop to my room."

   "How is this not finished?"

   "That my problem, I don't know.   It's missing something.   More color, I don't know..."

   "No, it's a heavy concept.   It should have subtle elements to it in balance."   Grey took sever steps back to take in in its whole once more.   "There is a lot of technical ability in this.   You know how to do electroplating?"

   "I didn't do the chrome, but yeah.   It was more of a pain getting the chemicals.   I'll figure out something with it, don't know what yet.   I've got a few more pieces about.   You want to see them?"

   "Sure."

   So Grey meandered with Meghan around the floor and past or over all various items of her trade.   A wide open space with perhaps even a dozen makeshift workspaces, all bathed a generous helping of light from the winter sun.   It smelled of tool oil, chard wood and spent fluxes, and had a vibrancy and life that was missing downstairs. It was the center of her small world and the expression of herself.   The larger devices, a bead roller, pneumatic hammer, a vented gas furnace with an accompanying anvil and all the like, were spaced evenly along the near side of the floor past the stairs, where the roof angled into the outer wall left little headroom.   They were vintage, many of them powered by hand, or foot, and spaced far apart, well oiled, and well used.   Her supply of crafting materials however, the sheets of metal and rods and pipes of various gauges, sizes and types, mostly iron, steel and bronze, but even others, had been scattered throughout.   Some appeared new, lying near the hoist and still on their pallet, some in process, some left stray, alone and forgotten to dust and rust.   Meghan guided Grey through with some care, making their way to the front near the hoist, where there lie a crate, or a partial one, but enough to where you could not make out the contents from the side.

   "This is what I'm usually stuck with..."   Meghan lifted away a crate's end and balanced it upright with several arms at her feet with her back near the warehouse wall.   Inside was a near life-size bronze bear roaring in a threatening pose, steel bolted feet without a pedestal.   "It was meant for the Chicago Bears, but they stopped payment, pricks."

   It all seemed well enough Grey reasoned, definitely lacking in the inspiration of he had seen before.   No, it was something else; the care had been put in.   It seemed awkward and unbalanced, a grizzly facing its quarry with all the animation of an automated arm manufacturing cars.   The essence was missing.

   "Meghan, have you seen a bear?"   At this she gave something of a childish grimace.

   "Of course stupid, I watched all kinds of stuff on Discovery for this, read about their habits.   You saw my library.   I use it for reference all the time."

   "You know what I mean.   Have you ever seen one for real?"

   "Yes of course, I went to the zoo with my family several times."   Her top right arm directed him back to the statue, the only one moving.

   "Nothing recent then, I would assume."

   "Of course not..."   The partner of the first hand joined in, unconsciously pleading for his attentions elsewhere.

   Grey began to work his way around the statue, making his counterpoints.   "You must remember how big they are, how imposing, kind of like you.   Many of them even larger than..."

   "Stop right there, enough." she growled.   Both hands were joined by a third with an upright palm.

   "...And they have an intelligence about them, in the eyes, a harmony with their environment that you would miss if you never looked past their size, also like you."

   "Nice comeback."

   "Ahm...my point being it's not here.   Probably for something commercial no one would care, but the understanding, or really, the appreciation of the subject is just not there."

   "I can't exactly watch a bear around here from my window," she said with sarcasm, and exasperation, and now a forth hand, top pair on her hips, middle ones gesturing sideways to a window feet away.

   "And that's my point.   Meghan, when was the last time you left this place?"

   "I just told you I was agoraphobic, what do you want?"

   "What if I could help you get out of here?"

   "Nope."   Four arms crossed her chest as stuck out her chin and looked away, her leg turning with it in a sulking pose.

   "I could take you somewhere where no one would be."

   "No thank you."   Meghan fell back on her heals for a couple of steps as her arms loosened.   Her lips twisted in a betrayal of her anxiety.   A fifth hand waved him off.

   "Be rational about it..."   held out a hand in an instinctive reaction.

   "It's not rational, it's a PHOBIA!"   The last hand released its hold on the end of the crate lid she had held as she shook and waved her many hands at him.   It tilted, then fell forward in slow motion, missing his shins by inches as it blew up a layer of dust off of the floor.    "Oops, sorry..."

   "When was the last time you got out?"   Grey ignored it, it left her without a shield.

   "I used to try, really.   I would walk the woods in the middle of the night, when it was cold enough for a jacket.   Then one day I just stopped after an indian summer.   I never meant too," she whined like she was about to be punished.

   "Would you ever want to?"

   "No..never."

   "I hope you change your mind."

   "I have everything I need now, right here.   It's fine...I'm fine.   It was just a bad piece, I've done better.   Here, let me show you some of them, you'll see."

   And she did, working their way through the upper floor, from the hoist to the rear of the building when her bedroom and bathroom partition lie, coming together at the far corner.   There was better and some worse.   Some quite small pieces she seemed to bare her soul in.   Some a little larger that seemed to be something she had punched and twisted with little more than her bare hands.   She guided him though them, explained them and their intent, nothing was kept hidden in them or her.   With every piece came understanding of a lonely woman, who with fear had built armor harder than the metal she worked around herself, layers and layers of it until she had been lost underneath, a small child of thirteen.   With metal, she expressed that fear and loneliness, and rage.

    For a moment Grey thought he had seen the entire floor.   Meghan had certainly finished, and was speaking about how she had sold some of her things online at auction.   He almost missed it, it was not small or large, at first appearance he thought it was a garbage can with a lid, placed near to the bathroom door in a way that reinforced that assumption.

   "Is that a piece of yours?"   He said, walking toward it.

   "NO...No, well, yes.   It's from before I moved here, one of my first actually.   I was learning at the time...It's really not very good."

   "Can I see it?"

   "Might as well, no secrets here anymore, right?"   Meghan gave a six shouldered shrug.

   It was a garbage can, rather a plastic can was inverted to protect, or at least hide the contents inside. "You must have thought a lot about it to do this to it," Grey said with a hint of sarcasm just before he lifted the can off slowly, not knowing what lie underneath or its size, stumbling slightly from the awkwardness of the cans bulk as well as the contents.   Underneath was the classic Atlas shouldering the world in frame, but not Atlas himself with the burden.   Instead it was a six-armed woman, made from formed narrow strips of iron, laid with gaps intentionally in-between to give the persona a hollow look.   Is was rough, the globe had flattened a bit from age and likely never round to begin with, it still held the artist's desire.   Where Atlas would bare the impossible weight, this woman struggled, appearing at any moment to be overcome by the very world itself.

   "Not too subtle is it?"

   "It was amateurish and roughly done by a girl feeling sorry for herself."

   "So glad you've gotten past that..."   Meghan didn't seem convinced of his sincerity.   "...still, it has a lot of charm."   She sat the garbage can on the ground so he could have a better look.   "So...metalworking,   It's not a stretch to guess why you chose iron.   You clearly have a talent in it besides."

   "Well, you try drawing with these fingers, especially when you get frustrated and lose control when it doesn't come together the way you want.   I guess I retreated into my head a bit after my 'change'.   I had all these wonderful images in my head that I wanted to make real.   Not that I didn't try drawing, painting, pottery...anything I could get my...hands on, dammit...I liked drawing as a kid, I really did.   It's just metal...I doesn't break."

   "Even steel breaks."

   "Even if it does, you can wield it, or even reforge it back into another piece."

   "I think I understand you now Meghan.   You're that hard shell with a creamy center.   A tiger with a kitten's soul!   A drunken sailor on shore leave, reading Shakespeare and God forbid if anyone gets near you when you break the four winds!!!"   Grey looked for something to climb.   Unsatisfied, he just lifted a knee in the air.

   "Would you shut-up..."   Grey laughed at her stern faced reply, making her turn away momentarily so he wouldn't see her crack.

   "So...no secrets.   Tell me your story."   Meghan shooed him away from the last piece with a couple of hand while retuning the trash can to its original position.

   "I will...I swear it, but not today."   He shook his head emphatically."

   "Well, you can't start on the windows until tomorrow.   Help me move some of this stuff until I can figure out what to do with my heart...the statue."   She choked on the slip, holding her palm to her mouth as she sunk a bit into herself, prompting a sympathetic smile from Grey.   "The dust when that lid fell...I guess I haven't kept up with the mess like I should."

   The two of them spent the afternoon returning trying to return some order to her home, first in the kitchen, then to the workspace.   Grey had determined to keep up, indeed he had held his own downstairs, but upstairs it became a rout, and a personal embarrassment of sorts until Meghan politely suggested that smaller hands might be better used on tasks that hers could not.   An so it progressed for hours, one handling the bulk, while the other the details, in the screws, bolts and all the other things that had fallen into the cracks and tight spaces, of which they had many to choose from.   Here the wood was showing its advance age as well as it did downstairs, gouged out and even gaps in-between enough to see the furniture below, to the point where he lost a half dozen washers and a screw as he tried to pry them out.   This continued until both were sweating; the walls acting more like a sieve then a barrier to the cold winter afternoon.

   And so it went, the most ordinary thing that either had managed to do in the past week, and in so upset the fates who had been amusing themselves in their torrid mischief until now.   It was decided quickly that this would not do, as Grey dislodged a large piece of square metal tubing which had become wedged between a pallet and the wall.   As he tugged, and one end came loose, something a blurry brown came tumbling out of it like a cannonball.

   "Hey, Meghan!" Grey shouted without diverting his attention from it.   "It appears you've had another house guest for quite a while.   Why hello there..."

   "Is it that owl?   I've been looking for his nest for forever..."

   "Nope, you have a roof rat."

   "OH HELL NO!   OH FUCK THAT! GET IT!   GET IT OUT OF HERE, IDON'TCAREWHATYOUHAVETODO!!!"

   "It just shot under the pallet, that noise you just made just freaked the hell out of it."

   "I don't care...I DON'T CARE!   Just get it out of here!   No bullshit, none of you crap about elephants, JUSTGETIT OUT...OF...HERE!!!"

   And to his credit he tried.   From one end of the floor to the other and back so many times it felt like a football game and he the referee, spending the lion's share of time as a buffer between the rat and Meghan, accomplishing little between the scurrying, cursing, hiding and dodging projectiles thrown rapid-fire with little care as to their target or the their damage potential.   All Meghan managed was to be too close to help, or too far away from harm.

*Kra-twippppp frumple*

   "Watch it!"

   "It went behind that cardboard box.   Get that nasty thing! Sic it!!"   She pointed several directions in the vicinity of the box.

   "What am I, a terrier?" he exhaled between heavy breaths.

   "Of course not, a terrier would have gotten the job done."

   *Whoomph*

   "Enough of that!"

   Finally the rat scurried through a crack in one of the small crates lying about.   Grey gave a half-flopping dive, all his legs had remaining to give him, and shoved a broom over the crack, hopefully sealing it from escape.

   "THERE!"

   "You got him?"   Meghan asked him anxiously, still at a distance, yet leaning over him craning for a better look.

   "Quick, get me one of those thick furnace gloves."

   Cautiously he lifted the lid just wide enough to force his gloved hand in, fishing around waiting for the hissing and squeaking to let him know he was close.   Grey could not much feel the rat with the glove as thick as it was, choosing instead to sweep the rat into an army surplus ammo box, which had conveniently landed with arm's reach a minute ago, the bolts it held still inside.

   "Here, take him.   I don't do the killing."

   "With pleasure.   Come here you vermin."   She drew the metal box to her face to near cross-eyed.   "I'm going to give you little cement shoes..."

   "At least you didn't climb on top of your stool."   Grey dragged himself to his feet unsteadily, wandering a bit to maintain a vertical.

   "I was about to, but there was no way it would have held out under me."

   "This whole thing was straight out of a fucking 'Tom & Jerry.' "

   "I think I'll leave his head on a nail as a warning."

   "Meghan, we have a problem..."

   "What?"

   "It's a 'her' ".

   Grey had found a flashlight, and was squinting into the tube where this whole misadventure had begun.   Inside he could make out a nest, and at least one pink and wiggling thing.

   "It's a momma?"

   "It sure appears that way."

   "Oh...well.   Can you get them out of there?"

   "I think so.   We should take care of all of them at once."

   "We can't leave her stuck in this thing.   She has babies to take care of.   I'll have you get a cage in the morning."

   Grey threw his hands up in defeat and stared at her, then the box, mouthing obscenities to her sheepish, toothy grin as she closed the lid after a peek.   "I give up, I'm out of here."

   "No you can't.   You're my beyatch now...so be good and help out with her babies, while I go downstairs to get something for her."

   And so that was it, and both simultaneously took notice of the results of the last hour.   All the work of the afternoon was erased and made worse in the absurdity of life.   The only thing left was the laughter, and they did through the night as they started all over again.

End of act one