House of R'Leyh writings..archival purposes.
More of the archival old fixshuns. More of the R'Leyh stuff I didn't realize I still had. Untitled. Spell checked but unedited.
Lots of archival stuff today. I loaded my flash drive for this purpose.
The tableau was like something out of a movie. Everything had that odd mock up window dressing look. The people too perfect, hair too coifed, smiles too sparkly. It was all too bright, too busy, just too much in general. He blinked hard, squinting at the brittle sunlight. Christ his head hurt, gingerly his fingers crawled through his thick blonde hair.
Long fingers combed through greasy slippery hair, feeling along the scalp until his fingertips encountered flaky dried blood, then next to that the mushy lump. Cringing he withdrew his fingers and sat with his shoulders slumped, fingers worrying each other in his lap as he tried to figure out what to do next. Everything around him continued, the city playing herself out as usual. His presence was a non issue.
Stomach rumbling he finally stood up, taking a moment to steady himself before patting the pockets of his pants and jacket down. Cigarettes upper left hand breast pocket, lighter change and keys right hip pocket, and wallet rear right pocket. Wallet, yes that was good. He withdrew the worn leather and flipped it open, examining what had to be his own face on the drivers license, credit cards, business cards and more importantly cash.
Faint smell of, what was it. A dank brown smell, water maybe. He leaned his head back and inhaled deeply. Nostrils flaring as he sniffed. River, that was the smell. He was in a city with a river. A good thing to know he supposed. Stretching once more he took a breath and headed where he could hear the most noise. Figuring to find a busy street. Given that busy streets almost always have at least one restaurant.
That was more than enough, he needed food and needed it right then. Following the smell of gumbo and fried shrimp po' boys.
He passed several promising cafes for reasons unknown to him. Something was leading him away from the glitter of the busy tourist filled street and away. Then it came to him, he wanted to go out of the Quarter to a diner. He didn't know the name but he'd know it when he saw it. He walked slowly, observing the change in the neighborhood in the few short blocks. Where he was he mostly saw locals, old men sitting in front of dingy suspect looking bars. Hookers, dealers, groups of roving thuggish looking teenagers. As he walked he felt rather at home. His stride was unhurried as if he belonged there. Was a part of the darker side of the New Orleans glitter. New Orleans, that's where he was. The name came to him as the does the name of a song heard in a passing car. As he passed one hooker she grinned at him, spoke in a slightly drunken but tempting drawl.
"You lookin for company Daddy?"
He shook his head and tipped an imaginary hat which made the girl laugh and clap her hands. In return she did a little shimmy which caused her unfettered breasts to jiggle beneath the thin slip she wore. Her hard nipples looked like raisins pressed against the silky material. The sight of that put a pause into his step as he considered taking a moment to do a little business with her. But then his stomach rumbled and he continued on. On the block ahead he could make out through a dirty dingy window a red neon sign blinking the word, 'DINER'. That was it. He lengthened his stride in anticipation of thick black coffee smelling of chicory coffee, grits, eggs, sausage and hell he'd even go for a slice of pie. He felt like he could eat up half of New Orleans he was so hungry. When he got to the door he shoved it open and murmured,
"nice to be back."
Even though he'd never really been there. At least not that he remembered. But for some reason that didn't bother him. He wasn't supposed to remember. When the bell over the door jangled a pretty woman with skin so black it almost looked blue gave him a wide gap toothed grin and drawled,
"Well well well. I ain't figured you'd be back here. Go on and sit in the back. I'll bring you a coffee and you're breakfast will be up in about fifteen minutes."
"Thanks Melina."
The voice that came out of his mouth was deep. A smooth baritone, Yankee tempered with a slight softness of a good many years in the Big Easy. His speech had been eroded at the corners. He followed her instructions and sat at a table in the back corner. Taking off his coat and leaning back. He pulled a pack of Camel's from his pocket along with a Zippo lighter with a likeness of Marilyn Monroe pouting at him from the front of it. As he lit up, a few more small details fell into place. He was a regular there.
Or had been at one time. He knew the old timers sitting at the counter. Nodded to them as he'd passed. He knew that Melina had a niece who sang in a bar off Bourbon Street. Knew that he and the woman had a history that was complicated as any on again off again love hate relationship is. He also knew that he'd have to go see her later that night after he stopped off at Mrs. Rourke's place to take a shower and change his clothes. He still didn't have the complete picture but enough to go on. And hell, maybe this time he'd get it right. Wouldn't that be something he thought to himself as he took the coffee and sipped it. There was one other thing he knew without a doubt. He had to see the man, at the House of R'leyh. The name gave him a shudder. In a soft singsong words slipped from his lips,
"The house of R'leyh? Where the humans go to die and the monsters go to play."
Lots of archival stuff today. I loaded my flash drive for this purpose.
The tableau was like something out of a movie. Everything had that odd mock up window dressing look. The people too perfect, hair too coifed, smiles too sparkly. It was all too bright, too busy, just too much in general. He blinked hard, squinting at the brittle sunlight. Christ his head hurt, gingerly his fingers crawled through his thick blonde hair.
Long fingers combed through greasy slippery hair, feeling along the scalp until his fingertips encountered flaky dried blood, then next to that the mushy lump. Cringing he withdrew his fingers and sat with his shoulders slumped, fingers worrying each other in his lap as he tried to figure out what to do next. Everything around him continued, the city playing herself out as usual. His presence was a non issue.
Stomach rumbling he finally stood up, taking a moment to steady himself before patting the pockets of his pants and jacket down. Cigarettes upper left hand breast pocket, lighter change and keys right hip pocket, and wallet rear right pocket. Wallet, yes that was good. He withdrew the worn leather and flipped it open, examining what had to be his own face on the drivers license, credit cards, business cards and more importantly cash.
Faint smell of, what was it. A dank brown smell, water maybe. He leaned his head back and inhaled deeply. Nostrils flaring as he sniffed. River, that was the smell. He was in a city with a river. A good thing to know he supposed. Stretching once more he took a breath and headed where he could hear the most noise. Figuring to find a busy street. Given that busy streets almost always have at least one restaurant.
That was more than enough, he needed food and needed it right then. Following the smell of gumbo and fried shrimp po' boys.
He passed several promising cafes for reasons unknown to him. Something was leading him away from the glitter of the busy tourist filled street and away. Then it came to him, he wanted to go out of the Quarter to a diner. He didn't know the name but he'd know it when he saw it. He walked slowly, observing the change in the neighborhood in the few short blocks. Where he was he mostly saw locals, old men sitting in front of dingy suspect looking bars. Hookers, dealers, groups of roving thuggish looking teenagers. As he walked he felt rather at home. His stride was unhurried as if he belonged there. Was a part of the darker side of the New Orleans glitter. New Orleans, that's where he was. The name came to him as the does the name of a song heard in a passing car. As he passed one hooker she grinned at him, spoke in a slightly drunken but tempting drawl.
"You lookin for company Daddy?"
He shook his head and tipped an imaginary hat which made the girl laugh and clap her hands. In return she did a little shimmy which caused her unfettered breasts to jiggle beneath the thin slip she wore. Her hard nipples looked like raisins pressed against the silky material. The sight of that put a pause into his step as he considered taking a moment to do a little business with her. But then his stomach rumbled and he continued on. On the block ahead he could make out through a dirty dingy window a red neon sign blinking the word, 'DINER'. That was it. He lengthened his stride in anticipation of thick black coffee smelling of chicory coffee, grits, eggs, sausage and hell he'd even go for a slice of pie. He felt like he could eat up half of New Orleans he was so hungry. When he got to the door he shoved it open and murmured,
"nice to be back."
Even though he'd never really been there. At least not that he remembered. But for some reason that didn't bother him. He wasn't supposed to remember. When the bell over the door jangled a pretty woman with skin so black it almost looked blue gave him a wide gap toothed grin and drawled,
"Well well well. I ain't figured you'd be back here. Go on and sit in the back. I'll bring you a coffee and you're breakfast will be up in about fifteen minutes."
"Thanks Melina."
The voice that came out of his mouth was deep. A smooth baritone, Yankee tempered with a slight softness of a good many years in the Big Easy. His speech had been eroded at the corners. He followed her instructions and sat at a table in the back corner. Taking off his coat and leaning back. He pulled a pack of Camel's from his pocket along with a Zippo lighter with a likeness of Marilyn Monroe pouting at him from the front of it. As he lit up, a few more small details fell into place. He was a regular there.
Or had been at one time. He knew the old timers sitting at the counter. Nodded to them as he'd passed. He knew that Melina had a niece who sang in a bar off Bourbon Street. Knew that he and the woman had a history that was complicated as any on again off again love hate relationship is. He also knew that he'd have to go see her later that night after he stopped off at Mrs. Rourke's place to take a shower and change his clothes. He still didn't have the complete picture but enough to go on. And hell, maybe this time he'd get it right. Wouldn't that be something he thought to himself as he took the coffee and sipped it. There was one other thing he knew without a doubt. He had to see the man, at the House of R'leyh. The name gave him a shudder. In a soft singsong words slipped from his lips,
"The house of R'leyh? Where the humans go to die and the monsters go to play."