Friday, September 28, 2012


The Red Paint woman carefully laid her little girl on the bed. Others of her kind gathered 'round. The breed is entirely human, but tribal ties run deep, especially after twenty thousand years. What's felt by one is felt by all. Not the world over, but within a certain radius. The four females surrounded the neat, little, quilt-covered pallet. They reached out, held hands and quietly said a prayer. That's when the Saint Vitus' Dance set in. They began to tremble and tremble and tremble. Moe-Larry-Curly, the dog (they just called him 'Moe'), whimpered and crawled from the room. Twelve heartbeats later the dead, little girl began to move. Her body rose up, as if borne on invisible hands. Red paints excell at levitation. Once moved a house from New Gretna to May's Landing. Had to do it at night, but they got the job done. 

Daddy-man come in with some big, old scissors. Don't know what they used to cut with them in the old days. He used them to remove the muddy t-shirt. Snip, snip, snip and it was gone. Just fell back down on the bed. Then he silently inspected the holes. They were dry now, but you could tell. You could see where they came in. Some from the front and some from the back. A regular Saint Andrew, or Anthony, or whoever it was. You've seen the pictures. The one with all the arrows in him. Only these arrows got pulled out. 

Daddy-man smell the wounds. Once or twice he taste 'em. Then he kiss his little girl on her forehead.... mumble somethin' to hisself and nod. Red Paint ladies start cryin', as she float back down to the bed. 

Now in the old days when they were fixin' to do big things, there'd be a 'Throwin' A the Bones.' Think they had one back when we first started channeling this over two years ago. Shouldn't a done it then, but they did. Guess y'all can google it (Throwin' of the Bones) if you want to know. Used to have a hollowed out crystal bull. Big too. Think I once saw maybe eight or ten people stuffed inside. A relic it was. Don't know how old. Guess they made it here, back in prehistoric New Jersey days. God knows what they call the place then. Must a dug it out from a big hunk a quartz. A diamond as big as The Ritz. Got a lid, like a stopper. Fits in real tight right where a saddle would be. Folks inside knowed what was comin'. They drugged up... a little bit. Still, it gotta hurt some. The Talk-To-God Man make like a fire under the belly. First he put water inside, so they steam and boil the right way. Meat gotta fall off the bones, else it ain't no good.

But this gonna be a baby version, like them Readers' Digest condensed books everybody got collectin' dust. And these days, Talk-To-God Man say bakin' up a dead person almost good as  a livin'. So they gonna do it to the dead, baby girl. She gonna tell 'em. She gone tell 'em who done it.

After that come revenge. You doan wanna miss that part. 

Vampires feel somethin'. Get like a itch, or a tingle. You know, like what you get when that dandruff shampoo really workin'. But it too light yet, so they can't come out. Edith rockin' back and forth on her porch. She know. She feel. Not Red Paint, but she know. 

Pin Head Mel come over. He wanna know what happen. But she don't say nothin'. Just keep rockin'. So he go back in a Pines and walk away. 

Moe-Larry-Curly climb up though. He sad. He real sad. He 'dog' sad. Edith pet him on a head. Then she go get him a carrot. Moe-Larry-Curly like a good carrot. Not that he ain't sad no more. But now he busy too. And that gotta count for somethin'.

Sun goin' down. Dark-time comin'. And this time... it gone be real dark...


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