klamath falls by jacqueline j jarvis
A truth-based story made into fiction with fictional characters as not to expose the actual people, places, or things.
Sweat poked her spine, no-mouthing sounds or choired words. A body of water ran through her ghostly figure pouring into the Pacific. It was ten days before her 25th marriage anniversary to her ex-husband, a date lost in translation. “Ah,” Juliet moaned. She felt washed-through, taken over. Gifted with prophecy through her gypsy grandmother she was clairvoyant though it made her weak. A little outfit of white polka dots and stripes slipped into her room. Glowing from sweat her mother's skin seemed pearled in the dim light. “I’m ok, honey, turn off the light and go back to sleep.” “Are you sure, mom?” She wrapped her snake-like arms around her. “Yes, honey. Just a bad dream.” “Was Daddy there?” “No, he wasn’t.” The little girl gasped silently falling into a cry. She pulled her to her up onto the bed. “Sweetie, tommorow mommy's going away for a few weeks, I need you to be strong.” Her mother’s eyes went dark.“I just said I have to go, it’s for the church don’t worry about it, grandma’s coming to watch you.” “Grandma?”
The charter took flight a straight half hour into Klamath Falls. Juliet’s nerves curved. Instead of a taxi, she was met by a thin eldery woman to shouffer her to the final destination. The knocker sounded outside the House of Gilead’s foyer. She was greeted by Elderess Ginger Nomis, an adaptive lady in brown-red-toned culottes. “Welcome! Welcome! Juliet?” “Yes.” Juliet responded glancing non-chalently at the enormous grounds with a star-system of little houses all named. Juliet received her basket labelled House of Gilead’s gift. It fostered pamphlets, a map, and a small book with a tasselled bookmark, soaps, shampoo and a blue folder. “You’ll just need to fill out the paperwork in that blue folder.” Ginger noted. Juliet smiled.
“You’ll have your own room”. Ginger showed her into the tiny room with two windows overlooking the galaxy of tiny houses and trees. “Not many people around.” Juliet observed, “It’s utterly quiet. I mean with all these houses…” “People are busy working, they’re quite productive here.” Ginger waved her hand for Juliet to follow. “They must all work somewhere.” Juliet inquired. “Certainly, they work here”, Ginger snapped derailing the subject. “There will be three others sharing the House of Gilead with you”. Juliet followed her down the hall. They passed many doors painted with different scenes then headed outside to a round yellow house built in the centre of the community. “Here we have the community kitchen,” Ginger announced. In the centre was an enormous round table set for a large group. “We all eat together, three meals a day.” Juliet noticed a framed list on the wall: 1. The Hill 2. The Ark 3. House of Gilead 4. The Lighthouse 5. Rhema House Signed by the director, Malvina. And the list went on and on.
Ginger led her through the grounds to a white house with barbered pillars. A neatly composed dark-haired lady sat at a desk engrossed in her paperwork. A neatly composed Pachelbel softened the room. “This is Juliet”. Ginger introduced. Malvina looked up nice and phony. “Hello Juliet, a wonderful name for an attractive gal”. “Thank you, are you the overseer?” Juliet asked. “Yes, for the past ten years. Boy time flies.” Her half smile unfolded into a parallel inconsistent type ofbehaviour.
“Please, take your time and have a look around.” She said pleasantly enough. She sat down and returned to her writing like no one was present. Juliet couldn’t put her finger on it, but that Malvina, is anyone that nice? It was almost three o’clock and Juliet was jet-lagged after her flight from the East coast. “I think I’ll retire and rest a bit until dinner.” Juliet yawned and Ginger led her back to the House of Gilead prompting her to use her map until she got to know the community. “Rest up”, see you at the little yellow house about seven. She closed the door to her tiny room and sat on the bed. She looked over at the Gilead house gift basket. Shampoo, hmmm, not such a bad smell she thought. The soap said homemade on the label, the map will be useful for sure. A book of wisdoms. And under that, the blue folder. She attempted to open it, but exhaustion took hold.
Dr. Zoè Cur rested in superannuated garb, a chatoyant personality and clouded prune eyes. His hair fecally wet, darkened with twists. Underneath, he directed filmed memories which on that occasion offered him sufferance more than solace. Nourished by love of sucking money as blood, Dracula’s mirror graced his aura. He knew about end times which haunted and drove him, his very soul remained possessed and determined. His philosophy entered others one finger at a time. He was envisioning it all as it brushed his moustache a fine combing and when fit, stood firm to remind him of what he had done. You see, his story comes before the one we are about to plead. His story that of
Dr. Cur was vastly choked with narcissism. The Dr. title he acquired unmorally, his similarities straying close to Vlad Tepes, the one and only vampire of Romania. Boyhood moved clips of snowed visuals, blackening out traumaburdens and plagues inflicted by his father. It was the mirror he feared most, it was in here where he saw the thin rounded stump on his upper jaw, the glow within it, that reflected the haughty grinning face that watched him burn from the inside. Ridiculed and whipped into submission Dr. Cur’s deep life within began metamorphisizing. In the wine cellar one evening, he recovered a leathered journal with the letters OVEM. It gave his life meaning, direction, and hope.
During the early 60s, Zoè Cur moved into Ovem beliefs and recruited his friend Bale. Bale was flat-haired and thin. Researching Ovem proved the system didn’t exist. They kept searching until Bale accused Zoè of making the whole thing up. Upset at his accusations, Zoè tied Bale up for two months in an empty room behind the wine cellar. He fed him and brainwashed him with Ovem until Bale no longer knew who he was. Bale became his head man. Seeing the system worked effectively, Zoè regained self-love, and set out to recruit more people. They started weekly rendezvous in an abandoned lighthouse on the shores of Klamath Falls.
There, Bale’s troubles began. Bale worked Ovem from inside experience, while Zoè understood it by mind-work only. Bale’s character traits, values, and ways had all been adjusted, twisted and rearranged. Months showed further deterioration, but Bale was easier to control and manipulate. He had ticks. Clock pendulums disturbed him, bright lights fainted him out. Nevertheless, Zoè kept the group growing, Bale converting people, teaching them later how to convert others. Soon the lighthouse floors were inadequate,
and others were purchased around rural areas. People recruited were often broken, hurt and depressed individuals.
A notorious bell ripped the sleep from her. That muted place was shifted into a giant stampede of heavy feet and voices. “Make the best of it Jules; it’s only for two weeks.” She slipped off the bed into her slippers. “That mystic quiet sure beat this racket.” She closed the window and jumped into a warm shower with her homemade soap then dressed. She reminisced what Jack had told her before the trip. “All of the people become members that way, Juliet.” We’d live a new life far from the troubles of this world.” She didn’t love Jack. She never wanted to kiss Jack. He was just there. And she was lonely.
That pretty community kitchen was now bombarded with flocks of people wormed in from hobbit caves and hidden places. Juliet was astonished. Ginger ran over to ease her confusion and seat her at the assigned table. “You are at the “Gilead” she said pointing to the left, remember that for breakfast.” She sat a moment to take in the atmosphere. She noticed an easel with a bulletin in the corner: “Saturday’s meeting: All must be present”. “Can’t miss that one,” she thought. To her amazement the plates were being placed, the utensils perfectly aligned, the meals carried over all by the smallest of children! About six on she surmised. Never had she seen such order and preciseness from such young nippers! All the servers were children, when did they get to eat?
The meal was satisfactory and someone pointed to the card at her placement. Juliet's Duty: Towel wiper. Toilet wiper? thought Juliet. Uh. She noticed that everyone had a job and knew well what it was. No one was sitting around relaxing; they were all busy. Finally forks clanked, people chewed and swallowed and ate. No conversation. The room suddenly fell under silence. She reached for the butter feeling the table shake, she had to hold onto the sides of it. The floors started to rattle. She could see the hallway from where she was seated. Two large-set mean-stricken mamouth women strode towards them like female versions of Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Juliet just sat and shook her head inside. More trouble, more rule abiding.
It was now evening and the stark quiet resumed its place and the full moon lured Juliet outside. She always sat to watch it on pleasant evenings. The moon’s energy pulled her, gave her something, almost spoke onto her. Its light caused the shadow beside her to giant in size. Shocked a bit, she jutted her head towards the figure. “Malvina?” she asked not sure who it was. “I see no one has informed you of our rules, have they?” she said silently awaiting her reaction. “I’ll see to it they do.” “Rules?” she responded confused. Malvina let out a rough breath. “This is not a resort.” She stood in the same spot, not budging. Neither did Juliet, but she was herself. “Ok, the rule for sitting outside under the moonlight is?” she waited and felt Malvina’s blood warm. “Everyone is to be chaperoned, and no one left alone.” Malvina did change
her tune, but she suspected it. “Forgive me Malvina.” She didn’t wish to sink the boat so soon. “I am never to see you alone like this twice on the grounds, clear?” She then disappeared into the darkness before she could answer... Juliet sat thinking of Jack. “Jack, what is this?” “How could a place like this bring us a new life? If I could just learn to live alone…oh, Jack, maybe I’m just being ridiculous.” She gave up the moonlight unable to shake off that woman’s creepy overlay. All the lights were out, and she could see sparse candles lit in the windows of the gingerbread-looking houses. No land lights. Better to see the moon my dear.
The House of Gilead smoked of myrrh. Fragile lights lined the hall walls. An edge of a letter stuck out of Juliet’s door. She drew the curtains over the tiny windows of her room and sat down to open the envelope and read:
Dear Juliet, By the way I love your name. Let’s meet tomorrow before lunch at the Lighthouse. No chaperones, Fran
Great, I could use a friend! Juliet looked relieved until the thought of Malvina hit her again. A sense of fear crowded her calm. The rules. That woman. The shadow. The blue folder! That was where the rules were written, of course! She rustled through her table, the basket, grabbing at the blue and opening it:
Can never miss the Saturday meeting or will be expelled Can never go without a chaperone on the grounds, must account for everyone at all times Must never speak with any members under any circumstances Must respect Elders on duty Must assume all duties when appropriate Must never argue with the establishment No cell phones allowed
She kept reading, until her gleam turned grim. She couldn’t even call Jack, no telephone lines. Miles away from civilization, she couldn’t even walk to anywhere. One day gone by and her life seemed to have spiraled along morbid street. The hall clock rang a cheap eleven o’clock a.m., must of paid fifty dollars for that thing, Juliet thought. All she thought about was Fran and her mysterious note, whoever she was. She didn’t care; Fran was a light in the darkness. She’d ask her all kinds of things about this place. But it was going to prove difficult to roam about unchaperoned, but she had to. Juliet dressed in her long skirt of army green.
The idea was to camouflage best she could. Her second day in this place and already undercover.
Juliet roamed the grounds glancing upwards in anticipation of siting the tip of a lighthouse. She didn’t dare ask anyone for directions. She thought she must be near to a bay or ocean as humidity wizzed up her nostrils. She pulled the map from her purse, yes, that’s it, Ewuana Lake. She had to make it back for lunch or they’d come to hound her down. But just as she rounded a hill on a dirt road, there is was, the tip bolting out of the sky like a liberty statue. Couldn’t miss its enormous extension, the beauty of its contour, the wrap-around balcony in black onyx ironwork. It looked as if it were two hundred feet plunged into a sea, all brick and in the middle of a tempest. It was meters from the shore. There was a row boat on the edge and a sign: “Danger: many have died here, better go back”. Fearlessly, she untied the rope with steady hands and floated out towards the grandeur. It appeared to be a floating castle tower. As she tied the rope onto the huge iron loops, she noticed a young girl peering over the edge waving down. She waved back. She seemed just a girl. So young from afar. Then she disappeared, reappearing at the door down below. “Juliet!” her voice sounded a half-cry to desperately happy shriek. “Isn’t this grand!” her arms were wide enough to hold the world in. “Yes, yes it is.” Juliet said looking up confusingly as she approached. “This is the lighthouse, where the other got its name.” She came over and
hugged Juliet like an old friend would. “This is where it all started.” Juliet’s eyes widened. “Anyways, I’m so glad you came, dared to come that is.” Fran had to sit down, her body weakened from worry. “This is the only place nobody dares come visit.” “I saw the sign, what happened here?” Juliet took a spot on a flat rock. “No worries we’re safe here, but can’t go missing so we'd better make it brief. You’re staying in the house of Gilead? I knew you’d just arrived.” “I’ve never seen anyone besides me; the place is deserted.” Juliet picked at a blade of grass and started rolling it in her mouth. “That’s what they all want you to feel like, that you’re alone”. Fran moved over to Juliet. “What happened here, you want to know. She fumbled with a stone then stared deep into Juliet’s eyes. “Ok then. It all started with the Father Ministry, it was a group of leaders who made the rules for everyone. Soon the rules corrupted the people and started to distort their reality.” “Go on.” Juliet was listening intensively. “The people were reduced to living in the forest deep, deep within it, living on bark and plant roots. They were striped of their material possessions.” “I can hardly believe that. What for?” Juliet asked. She didn’t know this Fran, better be cautious, she thought. Fran knew in Juliet’s face the story didn’t rest well, “The story goes deeper, there’s more”. Feeling a bit spooked, Juliet stood up wandering over to take in the lake’s breeze. Fran’s eye’s watched her.
Breathe Juliet, breathe. Take it one grain at a time. Her breathing was contricting. Suddenly, she heard mysterious music playing and choir voices. Pull yourself together Juliet, pull yourself out of it. It played over and over. “Jack, she said out loud, why, why...?” Fran was crouched staring out at the darkened water whose only light were reflections of the moon in the ripples. Juliet turned to Fran and let out what she wanted. “Why are you here?” ”Me?” Fran chuckled like a teen-aged rebel. At first she didn't answer. Juliet watched as Fran started to pace around not looking over at her. It seemed she didn't wish to reveal the why she was there. “I better be straight with you, after all this is my mission, to tell truth, unlike most of them.” “I’m ..”. A sort of stunted position hit Juliet. She couldn’t move and swallowed the grass. It made her gag until she spit it up. “You ok?” Fran was perplexed. “yeah”, was the only thing she could say.
Eight years earlier, the house next door to Juliet’s was sold to a young professional couple Lottie (Charlotte) and Lucis Sutherland. Juliet was happy; the lot finally filled up its ghastly emptied nature. It wasn’t a week before they introduced themselves and invited Juliet over. She informed them she was divorced for seven years now and had three small children at home. The neighbours stayed friendly and accommodating anyways.
“Come on over, we have weekly meetings and your invited!” So Juliet went. And kept going. Shortly after she found out that a man named Jack was living there with them, renting a room or buddying off them. Jack insisted that Juliet didn’t sit home alone. Of course, she was too pretty. He stuck to her, spotted her from afar, and would never unhinge himself again. Months passed by and the couple decided to move again sold the house and left Jack behind. He talked Juliet into letting him move in and live in her basement. Soon something started to shift within Juliet; something in her began rejecting all that she loved. Jack was a sad man with a flat personality and dull appearance. He couldn’t wed a rag doll. But there were other things he was good at. Jack had a past unlike most. He had killed a boy with a bus. Less Jack’s barbaric upbringing, he was never the same. Most of his life he lived in rooms and never amounted to much. But he was company to a broken down lonely woman.
By mid 1985, Jack was living upstairs in her daughter’s bedroom after he told Juliet it was no use that his daughter would never listen to her and she should have her move out. She was fifteen and moved in with her father. The two boys were stuck there with Jack for a while. But Juliet already started doing things she wouldn’t do as Juliet. She called all her closest friends and told them she couldn’t associate with them any longer. They cried, wanting an explanation, but Juliet didn’t have one. She remembered their two families were identical, and the little cape houses that sat side by side; one brick, one painted yellow. Juliet adored Judy as best friends do. Juliet’s husband palled with Judy’s, and the children, two boys and two girls all loved each other like one big family. Years and years were spent doing everything together under the sun. Sleepovers were the favourite. Children’s joy struck when the wives were thrown into the pool scooped up by surprise. When they moved the bond was torn. The house behind their new home was always changing owners. And in September 1979, a bizarre couple and a stray moved in. The stray’s name was Jack. He started talking with Juliet through the back brush. They belonged to an elite group that fascinated Juliet. On afternoons she was alone; he would come by and talk to her. His ideals were different; his views on the world, and most things, but still anything was uplifting. “Would you like some coffee, Jack? He was a quiet man, deep, private. “What kind is it? “Fair Trade”. “That’ll do. You look sad, anything the matter?” “Well, if you consider marital separation sad then you guessed it.” Juliet was
in a mild depressive state, close to disoriented. Jack felt an opening, felt to reach out to her. Her two sons were no trouble; maybe the daughter was too wise. And after her older son went off to college, he proposed the trip to Klamath Falls. “We all get stuck, hun” Jack looked at her, Juliet hastened. “There’s a place where you can work it all out.”
As a cinema unpacking, the dining house emptied. From there Juliet could see a new woman walking towards the House of Gilead with two suitcases. Let her turn around. Her profile was that of Lottie’s, Lottie next door, the Lottie who moved away years ago. Lottie is that you? What was she doing here? They didn’t know we knew each other.
That night a thunderstorm racked the bitten roofs all over Klamath Falls. Lightening turned the sky to day, sometimes showing up like antlers. Oregon seemed prone to weather of destruction. There was one main bathroom in the House of Gilead like in all the others. Everyone shared two showers and toilets. Behind the door sobs echoed off the walls and through the door itself. Juliet was reading Irving Stone’s Agony and the Ecstasy when the crying persisted loudly enough to awaken her from her fantasy. Juliet got up in her nightgown and followed the cries down the halls to the bathroom. She sat and listened a minute then attempted to go in, door squeaking. She looked about, no one was around. As she slipped in, she saw the reddened and swelling face of Mrs. Sutherland, it was poor Lottie and tears were still falling.
“Lott---ie?” she said in a whispering squeak. When Lottie looked up, she saw the face of an angel unable to conceive who it was. “Can’t be. Juliet?” “Oh, Lottie, oh Lottie!” She ran over and took hold of her tightly and they both cried. She started to tell her what wasn’t right in that place, all the watching going on and the control. “I want to know what happened to you Lottie.” “Lucis sold the house and took an apartment near here. Next I knew I was at Klamath Falls. “It’s Lucis my husband, he told me my problem was I didn’t listen, and because I cannot be the correct wife I’d have to go and get fixed.” She started again sobbing non-stop. Juliet embraced her. “Fixed?” This is what we are here for to get fixed, but Jack said...” “Jack?” Lottie said in between sniffling and sobs. “That Jack? He sent you here, did you marry him? We could never get rid of the guy, sorry Juliet.” “It’s okay, really. No, we’re not married.” The knock at the door was sharp enough to stun the both of them. “Are you two in there?” “Malvina, its Malvina’s voice”. whispered Juliet. Neither answered back. If you two don’t come out, I’m coming in.” Both had no choice. They exited the bathroom, there she was, Malvina, in her tight face, morbid black hair and jumper out-of-dated. Juliet took a deep breath. Lottie felt like a little girl who stole a cookie.
“Rules here are not to be broken”. Malvina stood with her hands on her hips. Lips pursed. Lottie froze. “There are two toilets in the bathroom,” Juliet said in a low voice. “Don't you condescend me!” Malvina’s darkness deepened. Out from behind Malvina two heavy duty women came forth. That night the bathroom was off limits to Juliet and Lottie. Both were in solitary confinement locked up in their rooms with no visits to the yellow house for dinner and one pot in the corner.
The thunder never let up. The water wet Juliet’s screens and it started to drip down the walls. Juliet ran over and slammed the windows down. “This is how I feel Jack, yelling like the thunder, except it’s free and I’m imprisoned. Juliet was trying to write a letter to Jack, but the pen shook and her scribble wasn’t legible. “Oh, forget it!” the trash was filling up. “I won’t stay one more day in this punishment camp. But I promised Jack, how could he.
Walls and rocks nearly smelling musty, the Lighthouse was ancient to western standards. The roots embedded themselves within the elderly flooring telling of rustic tales, energies for only those that could tap into them. A light feeling smiled her face, yet it was the eerie heavy stuff, the crying that came from the stones that worried her. The place was absent of Fran, only the sound of the breeze on the water. Juliet fell into utter aloneness a place she frequented in her past. She had to know more about the history of Klamath. Juliet took a walk following the birches as specified by her friend. They lead directly to the Lighthouse. The Lighthouse was gleaming with water thrashing nearest the windy gusts. She rowed over past the waves. The white peeling tower was a knight shining on the glow of the sun. The door was open. Juliet decided to enter Lighthouse. A cluster of stairs fixed into a tube-like structure filled the inner walls infinitely riding up into the universe. Just the swirling of the stairs made her body shift. A real passage through a snail’s shell with an orderly snake descending into its earthly hollows. Her head spun. It was that past life event when three black horses, her, and the covered wagon went off the cliff in unison to a ten thousand foot drop. A force moved her upwards and she allowed it. As the height grew alertness came over her. She could see a glimpse of reality. Fear descended her a few steps and as she went down she noticed the feeling had faded. She went back up to feel it again. There it was. A turning wind accompanied this revealed alertness. What are the stairs trying to tell me? Juliet ascended as high as she could stand until a space opened up inside her. My God, what if I reach the top? Suddenly, she saw her three children. Her daughter lay crying profusely as she
smacked her while sitting on her hips. A belt appeared in her hand, and the two boys ran for dear life scattering and whaling from terror. Juliet sweat. A foot set down backwards on the step below. Down again. The visions disappeared.
What is happening here? It’s got to be me, Juliet thought. As she reached the bottom, somehow a sense of understanding met with her. Somewhere deep, deep enough to pick up the etchings on the wall sitting plainly: “Zeus is resting in.”Confused as a bell tower, Juliet dismissed it in her weakening state.
Did the lights still glow at night? Why would someone post a sign of beware? Why should they? What is it? Spirits? Covered up clues? To what? Was it the mysterious stairs people were afraid of? Juliet couldn’t juggle well, never could. An eeriness in the Lighthouse made her reject it inside herself. It possessed a left-over bound-up knot that once created heartache or pain. Or was it showing her what she needed to see? Now the dingy peelings of the walls seemed to spell words with each flake. Juliet seemed to pick them up indirectly; nevertheless it was the stairs that satisfied her doubts, icing them into contentedness. Her visit plucked the short straw. Three hours had gone by and it seemed like five minutes. Noises. What were they, those noises? Gulls thrashing their voices was it? The sky lit up in places and greyed deep towards the North. She heard them again. Maybe boats unanchoring? As she exited the Lighthouse to discern, the unregistering noises became shouts of the lady controller’s voices from Klamath Falls. Saying goodbye a second time to the Lighthouse was simple, but somehow destructive. Her only quid of peace was becoming a sacred space of amnesty.
Malvina was in her office. The house’s white suit was immersed in the redwoods and Christmas trees. “So you say you were on the errand for, what was it exactly?” “Mom!” Fran was frustrated, cornered to the unlikes of a teenager. “No one is able to account for you, even now.” Malvina’s pencil eraser was making invisible circles on the rosewood desk. Little Fran hiked her sunglasses up onto her hair, the long ringlets bouncing a goldencolor onto her shoulders. “Look Mom, okay I went out on the lake that is the truth.” “You know you’re the only one without a chaperone, would you like to keep it that way?” “Yes,” Fran bounced off the chair. “Can I go now Mom?” “You are prohibited to talk to the patients”. “Do you have to call them that? Frustrated, Fran marched to the door. “Watch your step little girl. My eyes have a way of penetrating the trees.” Malvina got up to open the door. Fran ran out, “Yes mom, bye mom!”
Another yellow envelope stuck slant-wise in the door. A sigh of relief, a flit of sparkle in her whole being, Juliet swiped it up and locked herself in her room. Fran must be you, Fran I’ve waited. As she ripped it open her heart skipped to the foreign script that was not Fran’s. Late for lunch—cannot be verified by a chaperone—couldn’t be found by the lady
hunters. Report to Malvina at 15:30 on the half hour tomorrow. That night the meeting was in session; her first one.
The round building seems lifeless, but wise and mysterious. Three minutes late thought Juliet. She snuck in and seated herself in the back. The man on the pulpit was dry and thin and too tall for his own good.“It’s better to walk alone then join the company of negative people! His mouth squirted. Isn’t it so that those people are creatures and not human like we are? “Faces stared blankly in the front, some wiggled in their seats, others clapped with hefty smiles. “What we are here for, what we are here for! A baggy-styled woman stood initiating a line to rise. Can anyone tell me wisely?” “It’s not about you giving up your material possessions…because you have time for that.” A statement no one picked up. “It’s about entering a space that other people do not live in!” his narrow throat squeaked, the friction heating up his throat. People clapped and stood. Juliet felt lost, what was he talking about? Diagonally from the corner of her row, she saw Lottie seated on the main isle. Her right eye seemed shadowed. Her face was careworn. Then the thin man pointed her out. “In this space, we do not carry faces of sadness!” Miss Sutherland, please stand. Poor Lottie. Don’t do it Lottie, don’t stand. Shaken up Lottie stood. Instantaneously, the lady hunters appeared with gloves and a small box. Seating her in the back, Juliet could see through movements that they were doing something to her face. Then she was directed to return to her original chair.
Horror struck Juliet when Lottie turned sideways. Lottie’s face partially resembled the man in the iron mask. Disturbed, Juliet turned her head the opposite way eyes landing smack onto Fran. Her eyes lit, heart hummed, as determined to get her attention when Fran pretended to clap oddly signaling to Juliet. She got up undercover and silently crept to the outside. Fran said he needed air, but Malvina’s eyes followed her to the back door. “Let’s go over there, behind the brush,” Fran was on high speed. Juliet ran over. “Listen, you must know something, let me speak before my mother comes after me.” Her face was flushed. “My mother grew up with a guy named Jack up in Canada, hundreds of people all together; I mean they knew each other.” Juliet was dead silent, she swallowed not uttering a word. “My Jack?” Juliet thought. “Jack Lapp.” Fran waited her response which was lacking. “Oh, never heard of him.” Juliet mumbled. “I heard you mention his name the first time we met. I don’t know’em, know some things and those I’ll tell you.” Juliet interjected. “Did you see what they did to Lottie?” changing direction. “Lot of goings on. Look, you’ve to get out of here.” Just as Juliet wanted to ask something, Fran darted her eyes towards the meeting house. The front door creaked open. Fran leaned into Juliet’s ear: “Let's run for it.” Juliet seized up. Fran ran like steam beyond the brush out of site. Two black shadow-like figures slowly merged coming towards her. Juliet perked
up, adrenaline working. “Why must we sneak? She now peered into the four eyes of Malvina and Ginger. “We are adults, free people! Who do you people think you are? We are not pawns!” The two ladies looked like they were to laugh. Juliet didn’t know quite how to take that. A weird type of fear crept in. She semi-ran right back into the meeting house as she remembered her appointment for the following day at 15:30 sharp, and felt worse.
The night passed slowly. Juliet’s room seemed tighter than it was, she had trouble breathing. The stripes in the wallpaper made the flowers look imprisoned. She hardly recognized that two young boys shared House of Gilead with her. She decided to go walk alone. No time to wake up a chaperone. That was riduculous anyways, didn't Lottie mention they were here because they didn't listen? She slipped outside. The trees in the distance were unlit, all dark and shadowed and iced with transparent white. Birches were lit by their skins. Heading the familiar way, she neared the forbidden Lighthouse area. Stars freckled in a lowly sky, the glow growing into denser light. A hundred meters closer she started to hear voices towards the monstrous Lighthouse in the middle of the waves. Voices of children. Could it be? Dozens of voices. Children? Juliet thought, at this hour in that place half way submerged into the water? Juliet figured it wasn’t the night to cross the waves and be with the Lighthouse. Though the sounds tempted her to find out what children were doing there. That sign of beware did not deter those inside it.
A loud cry hit the air that pushed Juliet to her knees. Other cries of fear carried in little voices followed. Christ help them, Juliet sought in an inner burst of silent terror to stop whoever was doing them harm. Juliet had to make it stop, at least stop in her own head. All the boats were already tied to the Lighthouse, but one which remained an old rowboat with unstable wooden planks. I’ll take it; her hands couldn’t untie the rope from its post fast enough. Steady, she thought, I can do it. As she climbed aboard, the unsettled crashes hit the boat spurting up mist onto her torso. The enormous bricked lighthouse grew with proximity becoming overgrown in a disturbing manner. More cries, Juliet’s hands shook; one oar loosened and fell away into the blackness of the riffs. Fighting an oncoming surge, she struggled to balance with one oar at the rear. The water wished to push her further out, exhausting her moving efforts. As she closed in, Juliet had to grab for the metal ring. Satisfied, she tied up the boat. She’d have to stay along the Lighthouse on the outer parts along the twisting stairways. If someone noticed, there was no where to run. She edged her way around the main circle holding the wet railing tightly. The main door was open and dark beyond. Juliet looked up; she could see two levels were lit. Two small windows that rose above the main door heaved out dense energy. People were yelling, but garbled were the words through the thrashing waters. The inner stairs haunting her once more, disturbed Juliet, yet were subtle this time compared to the moaning and screams that overthrown them. As she approached the first level, more light was apparent, more sounds. The door was open to a room bearing women and small girls. Moans, whines, and crying penetrated through the crashing waters outside. Six bared skins crouched near the floor shivering with cold, while two others were immersed in tubs of ice water yelled and held down against their wills. Horror stricken she froze. Fingerprinted blood glowed in the semi-darkness on the wall near the doorway. Panicked, she rushed backwards towards the stairwell her foot twisting her
ankle to a weakened position, she fell. As she went down the noise she thought, the noise will get me murdered for being here. Juliet hit her head hard on the wall which cast her down against the next three steps then she hit the railing. The thumps were masked by sudden accelerated cries in the tub room. There she sat on the bottom landing thin-faced gasping and ditz-struck. The world spun on its axis forming a web that clouded her head. The blunders of her state flocked wings of terror sharp enough to etch through. Juliet knew she didn’t have time to lay there mummified. She managed to roll herself out over the doorsill, onto the balcony whose railing halted her flight into a ferocious briny. Still faint and unbalanced she lowered herself down into the oscillating boat. Off she was back to the shore of Klamath, which undoubtedly went against her entire being. If the waves weren’t so overactive, if they weren’t, well, I could get away, anywhere from here.
Her head throbbed; light from the birches singed the pain. Slightly a limp, she followed the trees backwards right to the border of the colourful community, now darkened and sleeping. Cries and inner echoes grew into giant shadows throughout her path, growing into gnarly figures that hastened her breathing, accelerated her steps. Owl eyes lit yellow twin flames amongst the trees, sparse yet numerous, they boomeranged fear back to the lighthouse, through Juliet, then back to the night birds acute and awake, awaiting some victim in the night. Klamath went through her mind, the word, its letters, the sound, its placement in the world, its history unsure, its past, the present, its hopes, its dangers, the impact it was having on her life. K-l-a-m-a-t-h. Two syllables. Ham talk, she thought, mixing it up, just ham talk that’s what it is. Her mind happied her heart and emotions.
Though it didn’t stop her from sinking into the low, deep, heavy underground
folds of the woods. The weakness that she strode with encaptured her, its reminisces now twirling her down through a spiral of disguised reality. The sun yellowed the house’s stark hues. Voices of children. She rose surprised to see her daughter standing over her. She had a question in front of her facial expression. “No, no, everyone has work to do!” the words rang through frustration. “What about the Birthday party? It’s once a year mom.” “The Birthday party? Too much work to be done, we have house painting, the leaves, the lawn, oh goodness, homework! How could you attend a birthday party, huh?” The face of a doll, of a new-born spirited youngster was sieved into dust. Three children lived in her world of denial, in her world of ignored emerging trash, alongside her living pain that she inflicted upon herself and imposed upon them in efforts to diffuse its intensity. She didn’t mold them, but unmolded them, their esteem, sense of well-being, their happiness, talents and character altogether.
“Someone feed the dog, I didn’t do it for the past three days, I simply forgot.” Dwindling she was, down into what, no one knew. “Ma, can you just talk to me? I mean, just listen?” “What do you want?” “You?” “Don’t bother me, I’ll have your father come and take you.” She was always in her room, closet, or coffin of isolation apart from every living being and used Dad’s name in vain.
Cyrus, Cecile and Cedric, tiny tender Cedric, fought an absence of love. They all had to form loves of their own to replace her’s missing in their hearts. Cyrus took to drawing, he was quiet, introverted and stayed in his own room all day after school. He feared the rage of Juliet upon Cecile, her feminine opponent. Cecile took to singing, her music, her organ. Three hours after school turned into pretty basement sing-a-longs. Extroverted, she released through vocal expression. Musical emotions weren’t her own, but nicer. She used them to outwardly push hell into the eternal atmosphere of light. Numbness crept in. “Cecile! Little loving girl came running. What she saw was a mother, so broken so frightened of what she couldn’t see as her own invention. “I can’t feel my arms. I can’t feel them!” Cecile didn’t know what to do. A caring universe was showing her to her own deeds, “Wake up Juliet, wake up and see what you've caused,” it would whisper. “Three hearts are breaking, but you, you are longing for them to console you in your moments of desperation.” The numbness had already occupied to her heart and mind, it was late showing up in her arms. A switch turned and suddenly she was squeezing her arms, squeezing and grasping so hard she winced. Her arm felt fleshy and damp. She felt sore and her head still hurt. Her legs were spread out onto a dead leaf flooring, her neck against a stump. Raising it as she rubbed, the light of morning glared a starlight slice into her eye. Feeling beat up, she dragged herself into the House of Gilead. The rooster was crowing. She wouldn’t make it to morning breakfast.
It was 3:10pm. Juliet continued to pace intermediately while putting on her earrings and doing her hair. She was not quite grey yet still had the rough black shiny hair that make her attractive. Her nerves still afficted her hands and she trembled a bit as appointment time neared. Hair creme plopped to the floor and as she stepped into it slipped off balance and cracked her head on the edge of an old walnut chest. A blackness crept in and she felt good. Clouds were amounting and moving fast darker and darker. A rush of light hurling in unannounced sent Fran straight into the little white house in the woods, slamming the door unannounced. Black eyes glared “And what's this?” “Mom, please there is something coming.”