The Man Called Altar
The Dream comes on fast this time, grabbing my Soul and ripping it down. There is the sensation of falling, of the ground rushing up to me until it collides with me.
Insert prophetic dream sequence
The Dream releases me, and I rush back to my body like a bungee jumper rebounding. I launch forward in my bed, sitting bolt upright in the darkness of my apartment. My breath comes in rapid gasps and my heart is pounding in all parts of my body as I try to calm to down.
“Shit.” I mutter, swinging my legs off the bed to sit on the edge. I search the cluttered side table for my pack and lighter. A few things fall off before I find my prize, but I don’t give a damn, I just need a cigarette. A flick of the wheel, ignites the zippo, and I touch it to the cig in my mouth, taking a deep long pull. A sigh of pleasure escapes my mouth as I exhale.
I sit on the edge of the bed smoking my cigarette and trying to chase away the remnants of the Dream. My room looks exactly as I left it, clothes on the floor, empty packs of cigarettes all over the place, and delivery boxes from every ethnic group in the city. “I really should clean.”
Finally, I lurch myself up to my feet, and cross to the front door of the studio apartment. I run my fingers lightly over the engravings on the doorframe. So much for my security deposit, but the familiar tingle along my fingers lets me know they’re still active. My next stop is the dresser that moonlights as my bar, I grab the bottle of Jack eyeing the glass next to it. “Fuck it” I mutter as I take forget about the glass and just take the whole bottle back to the bed with me.
Just as I sit back down, my phone rings. I eye the noise making monstrosity like it was a piece of month old meatloaf. After the fourth ring, I pick it up if only to make it stop.
“Altar.” I grumble into the green receiver.
“John. It’s so nice to hear your voice, we haven’t seen each other in forever!” A sweet female voice answers, the faint traces of Ireland still in her voice after many years away.
“if only.”
“What was that, John?” the voice asks, taking on an edge.
“Nothing, Cor.” I answer, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Nothing at all.”
“Good, John.”
“Cor, it’s… what time is it anyway?”
“Three in the morning, the Hour of the Wolf.” Cor answers with an acoustic grin.
“Then why in the Name of God-“
“John! You of all people should know not take His Name in vain!” This time Cor is in full blow laugh.
“Cor. What do you want?” I answer, what little patience I have worn threadbare.
There’s a pause on the line, and I can hear Cor taking a few deep breathes.
“I have a problem. A few of my girls have gone missing.”
“You know my usual price, Cor.” I respond automatically. My fee: a favor. Doing favors is what I do.
“No, John. I’m calling in my Marker.” This stops me.
“I need a shower and a drink. I’ll be there in 20.” I answer already standing up.
“I’ll hold my breath.” Click. And the line goes dead.
“Shit.” I exclaim for the second time tonight. A few years ago, Cor did me a huge favor, and in return I owe her a huge favor. If she’s calling it in on this then this is about a whole hell of a lot more than a few of her girls going missing. I swirl the bottle around one more time before drinking the whole thing down on my way to the bathroom. First the Dream and now this. “Shit.”
Insert prophetic dream sequence
The Dream releases me, and I rush back to my body like a bungee jumper rebounding. I launch forward in my bed, sitting bolt upright in the darkness of my apartment. My breath comes in rapid gasps and my heart is pounding in all parts of my body as I try to calm to down.
“Shit.” I mutter, swinging my legs off the bed to sit on the edge. I search the cluttered side table for my pack and lighter. A few things fall off before I find my prize, but I don’t give a damn, I just need a cigarette. A flick of the wheel, ignites the zippo, and I touch it to the cig in my mouth, taking a deep long pull. A sigh of pleasure escapes my mouth as I exhale.
I sit on the edge of the bed smoking my cigarette and trying to chase away the remnants of the Dream. My room looks exactly as I left it, clothes on the floor, empty packs of cigarettes all over the place, and delivery boxes from every ethnic group in the city. “I really should clean.”
Finally, I lurch myself up to my feet, and cross to the front door of the studio apartment. I run my fingers lightly over the engravings on the doorframe. So much for my security deposit, but the familiar tingle along my fingers lets me know they’re still active. My next stop is the dresser that moonlights as my bar, I grab the bottle of Jack eyeing the glass next to it. “Fuck it” I mutter as I take forget about the glass and just take the whole bottle back to the bed with me.
Just as I sit back down, my phone rings. I eye the noise making monstrosity like it was a piece of month old meatloaf. After the fourth ring, I pick it up if only to make it stop.
“Altar.” I grumble into the green receiver.
“John. It’s so nice to hear your voice, we haven’t seen each other in forever!” A sweet female voice answers, the faint traces of Ireland still in her voice after many years away.
“if only.”
“What was that, John?” the voice asks, taking on an edge.
“Nothing, Cor.” I answer, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Nothing at all.”
“Good, John.”
“Cor, it’s… what time is it anyway?”
“Three in the morning, the Hour of the Wolf.” Cor answers with an acoustic grin.
“Then why in the Name of God-“
“John! You of all people should know not take His Name in vain!” This time Cor is in full blow laugh.
“Cor. What do you want?” I answer, what little patience I have worn threadbare.
There’s a pause on the line, and I can hear Cor taking a few deep breathes.
“I have a problem. A few of my girls have gone missing.”
“You know my usual price, Cor.” I respond automatically. My fee: a favor. Doing favors is what I do.
“No, John. I’m calling in my Marker.” This stops me.
“I need a shower and a drink. I’ll be there in 20.” I answer already standing up.
“I’ll hold my breath.” Click. And the line goes dead.
“Shit.” I exclaim for the second time tonight. A few years ago, Cor did me a huge favor, and in return I owe her a huge favor. If she’s calling it in on this then this is about a whole hell of a lot more than a few of her girls going missing. I swirl the bottle around one more time before drinking the whole thing down on my way to the bathroom. First the Dream and now this. “Shit.”