Dark Water: Beaming Smile is a work of fiction. Characters, names, place, incidents, organizations are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Dark Water: Beaming Smile
Kevin James Breaux
Copyright Kevin James Breaux 2011
Published by Hellfire Publishing, INC. at Smashwords
www.hellfirepublishing.com
All rights reserved. No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-937179-89-2
Cover art by: Dara England
※ DEDICATION ※
I dedicate this novelette to all the bloggers, book reviewers and twitter peeps (hi Buddy! @nightchilde) that I have become friends with over the past year. They have cheered me up on bad days and supported me through poor reviews. They are a smart and skilled lot, with great advice and some even speak nearly perfect Elvish. I’m talking to you, @DianaIlinca .
Now, where did I put my long bow?
Kevin James Breaux
Author of—
A Way to a Man’s Heart is Through his Stomach
Award-winning SOUL BORN
An epic fantasy novel
twitter@KevinBreaux
PLEASE ENJOY THE FIRST HALF OF DARKWATER: BEAMING SMILE.
And after, you can purchase the rest of the story for .99 cents during our half price sale.
Dark Water: Beaming Smile
Kevin James Breaux
The water smelled horrible, like moldy rotting wood. I covered my nose with a handkerchief that I found in my husband’s rain jacket just to filter the air. You see, I really wished that was the only stench around, but it wasn’t. Occasionally my nose caught a hint of something else, something long deceased. I figured it might be a skunk or raccoon; something that had died weeks before the rains hit us, but then washed up during the floods. There were farms all around my home, so that particular stink must have belonged to a dead animal. I tried to convince myself that it could have been livestock; a goat or cow even, but truth be told, I wasn’t sure. Even had I wanted too, I could not see past the edges of my house; it was just too dammed dark.
The sky had finally stopped dumping rain about an hour ago. It was midnight or possibly a little later, as far as I could guess with no watch on my wrist. Funny that I would look at my wrist; I hadn’t owned a watch in maybe ten years. The only jewelry I had was my wedding ring, and that had left my finger hours ago.
Seventy two hours of relentless down-pouring and here I was alone in the dark, standing on the pitch of my roof with nothing but a dying flashlight and my thoughts.
I should have left Montgomery County when I had the chance, I swore inside my head for the hundredth time since I climbed up here. I should have blazed out of this shithole town the first moment I could… but I didn’t. “You’s a lazy girl, Sarah,” my father used to sing when I was just a small child. I guess he was right, because I had my chance to leave after school was finished, and I didn’t take it.
My best friend Hilly was departing for college and offered me a ride out of town at the end of that week. I told her I would catch up with her in a day or two, let her know my decision, but that one day, became another, and another. Before I knew it years were gone and I was carrying a child inside my belly.
I never intended for this to happen; in fact I despised it. But damn-it-all I had become my mother.
A loud thump rattled me from my thoughts. I spun around clicking on my flash light but the weak bulb barely lit more than two feet in front of me. Worthless, but I did not toss it into the flood waters below, where all the other trash from the neighborhood was floating. Something about that flashlights presence in my hand; the long metal shaft, the bulbous end, it made me feel safe. It was my weapon, a mighty hammer to swing if I needed to protect myself.
Another thumping sound startled me; against the back side of my house. I pinpointed it this time. That noise, it must have been a large piece of debris, maybe a chunk of wood from our old barn. The barn, for heaven’s sake, it felt like its collapse was days ago. That was a sight I wouldn’t soon forget. That old barn had been in my family’s possession for many, many years.
It was soon after a large swell of water broke against my house. I was upstairs getting my boys ready to evacuate town while Joseph, my husband, was supposed to be getting the old Bronco fired up. I heard Joseph scream through the whipping winds that the car was stalled. When I opened the window to yell back at him my ears filled with the sound of the barn shrieking like a startled horse. I watched in awe as the flood water rushed hard against the barn’s foundation. The building moaned like an old man standing as it suddenly lurched upward, and then promptly folded down upon itself, no sturdier than a house of cards.
Our car was in there, was all I could think; the Bronco, our only means of transportation. I’m totally trapped here now. There was no escape. Joseph waved his arms wildly, breaking my stare upon the rubble. Pointing off to the side of the house, he drew my attention off to our trailer. Joseph might not have looked it, often mistaken for just another “good ole boy”, but he was a forward thinker. He had pushed our trailer out of the barn moments before it collapsed, saving his little fishing boat, a rusty hunk of trash he called the Missouri Minnow.
※※※
There was that noise again. It sounded soft, not like a wooden beam or other piece of hard debris as I first imagined it was. I crept across the roof slowly, my shoes were soaked and their grip on the slick shingles was iffy at best. If I was to survive until a rescue team arrived I would need to stay out of that dark water.
Thump, thump. I heard it again as I inched my way to the back of my house. I could see the water levels had reached up to the windows on the second story of the house. There was no doubt in my mind that the flood water had filled the inside all the way to the attic by now. Everything inside was ruined. All those memories gone, I would certainly have no reason to—thump. God, that sound was loud.
After shaking the flashlight a few times I pointed it down towards the back door off the kitchen. The darkness of the night and the pitch black water swallowed almost every inch of illumination the flashlight gave me. A pack of matches or an old cigarette lighter would have worked as good. Gazing down for some time, I saw the edge of my house. The flood water was churning around; moving like the gentle waves of that bay in the Gulf of Mexico my parents once took me to when I was ten.
There in the water I saw a kerosene tank, probably the one we had in the barn. It bobbed up and down like a buoy, occasionally clanging against the house, but it wasn’t making that weird thud. As my eyes examined the tank I heard my mystery sound. It was so close I felt it rattle my ears. Pivoting my body to the right, where the sound came from I inched myself to the tip of the roof, above the back door. Peering down, my fading flashlight revealed something large and furry.
What was it? I had seen bear before, but this seemed bigger, exceeding the size of my tiny spotlight. I panned the dark brown fur from end to end. It was a tall bear, but not as beefy as most. It must have been sick. Maybe the thing had starved to death before the flood, I thought. As I stared my flashlight’s bulb surged up revealing two long spindly limbs, almost like human arms.
I jumped back, falling hard to my butt. The impact jarred the only source of light I had from my hand, sending it rolling loudly over the side of the roof. The rattling was so loud it echoed in the night sky. When the flashlight hit the water, hell I half expected to hear someone yell out my name when they heard that loudness. With my breath held down into my stomach I waited the full count of ten Mississippi for a voice to call to me from the darkness, yet none came. Unlike me, my neighbors left when the getting was good.
Huffing and puffing, my lungs drew in the sour air and pushed it out as fast as they could. Good thing I quit smoking when the boys were born, or I wouldn’t only be cold, and wet, but wheezing in pain up here too. Retreating to my original spot on the roof, I couldn’t help but face the back where I saw the dead animal. An image of its wet, hair covered body was born in my mind each time I heard the thumping sound. I couldn’t empty my head of the sight, and soon I began to question myself. Thump. Maybe I was wrong, maybe this wasn’t a bear after all. Its fur seemed too long, so much so it clumped into spiky ends. I assumed it was a bear from its size, but the more I thought about the shape, it was all wrong. Thump. It was so damn skinny. God—what was it?
The rain came back, further soaking me. I praised God it was July, for the nights stayed somewhat warm. I remembered a time when I was fourteen and camped out all night with a friend. It was early October, and the pair of us nearly caught our deaths after getting drenched by a passing storm. I had a cough and the sniffles for a month. The thought made me laugh. My mother said to the day she died, “No medicine found in the drug store can cure stupidity.”
Thump. Drawing my knees into my body I wrapped my rain jacket around all my limbs in efforts to keep warm. Help should be coming soon, I thought. Bracing myself against the chimney I tried to close my eyes and sleep.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Every time I felt myself drifting off the banging sound rang out in my ear. It almost sounded like it was getting closer. I tried to shut it out of my head, but my mind kept returning to it. What was it, a sickly cow? Perhaps it was a really big wolf? I just had to know what that decaying thing was I saw, and find out if it was what I smelled.
Thump.
I should’ve left town when I had the chance. I should’ve gone with Hilly. I should’ve run for it, left it all behind me, never looked back. God, all that was twelve years ago, I’m thirty now. I couldn’t just up and leave, could I? I loved my children with all my heart and soul; how could I do that to them? Yet still when I looked at my boys, Jimmy and Jonny, I often wondered if my mother settled for me, like I settled for them.
The noise rattled me again; it was nearing dawn. Had I slept? I couldn’t tell. Would help be here soon?
“I should’ve left town when I had the chance!”
I shouted as I watched the sunrise. Suddenly the shadows were lifted, the veil of darkness gone. I could see everything around me. All the destruction, the litter… the sewage. Turns out I soon preferred the darkness. Now that I could see everything it was all the more real. I was going to die up here, wasn’t I?
Out near the street I spotted a body bobbing up and down; caught no doubt on our old white picket fence. That fence needed to be torn out years ago and replaced with a new one, but Joseph wanted to just repaint it. I told him don’t bother, just tear it down. I would prefer no fence, to that same old one just repainted. While watching the stuck body, bobbing up and down, I realized just how glad I was he didn’t listen to me. The water was still flowing in my direction and that person… I think it was old man Rutherford, banging up against my house along with the dead. Hold up a moment, there was no thumping.
I stood up quickly, asking my legs to hold the weight of my body, yet they weren’t ready and I fell forward to my knees, nearly sliding off the roof. Screaming as I clapped my hand to the wet shingles, I held myself still. I wasn’t going to fall in that disgusting water; I would sooner kill myself before that happened.
Too scared to stand again, I crawled across my rooftop to the back of the house so I could finally take a look at the bear that had been floating dead in the water. Or was it a wolf? My mind prepared me for the sight. I imagined all sorts of horrors, things I had seen in scary movies when I was a child. Whatever grotesqueness was about to welcome my eyes wouldn’t overwhelm me, I could handle it. I had seen worse.
Peaking over the edge of the roof I saw nothing. Just some trash, a few chunks of wood from the barn, something that looked like an old rusty toaster and a cardboard box with the label “Seed” on it. The animal was gone. Turning my head as I stood, my eyes brushed over something entirely unexpected. The water had receded some and the top of the lower roof was exposed. Laying atop that tiny peak, curled up into a near fetal position, was a young naked girl.
I should’ve been shocked at the girl’s presence below me, but instead of recoiling in fright I was compelled to stare. I could not see her face; it was covered in her long curly wet hair. Was she alive or dead?
“Hey you,” I called down to her, but she didn’t respond so I yelled louder. “Hey!”
I figured she must be dead. She must’ve been tossed around so much in the flood that the waters tore her clothing from her body. It happens; I had read about it once, year’s back, on the scandal sheets when a pair of celebrity girls got caught up in some rapids while rafting. That poor girl, I thought as I stared at her, she probably drowned. Suffocating; gasping for air when there is none. What a horrible way to go.
The morning sun was warm so I removed my husband’s rain jacket. Sitting atop the roof I chose not to stare into the direction of the destruction and filth and instead just look at the girl. She seemed so peaceful down there, like a sleeping baby. I wished I could sleep so soundly, but the air smelled so bad I could almost taste it. My stomach rumbled; what a time to be hungry. With my nerves as they were… yuck, the thought of eating made me nauseous. When would I be rescued?
The sun crept up into the heights of the sky while I sat gazing at the girl. I wondered who she was, what her age was, was she in love? What was her life like? Was she happy, truly happy? Did she know what true happiness was? I didn’t when I was her age. I must have cried three times. That poor, young girl. We had a lot in common; she never escaped this town either.
Looking away for a moment to dry my eyes, I considered one of two options. I had to do something for her. I could not bury her, so I had to lay her body to rest in another fashion. I could push her off that little ledge into the water. Maybe she would sink or be pulled away when the water receded again. She deserved better. Maybe some flowers and a nice obituary, but I had neither to give.
My second idea was a little more personal. Part of me wanted to put her body in my house, where it would be protected. There was a small window above the toilet in my master bathroom and it sat open a crack not two feet above the ledge she was on. All I would have to do is squeeze her in through that narrow window and then close it up behind her. My house was ruined anyway so why not, right? At least she would be safe in there until she got a proper burial.
I looked all around, skimming the horizon with my eyes. There was no sign of my husband, no police, and no National Guard. I had to do something. It was beginning to feel like I would be here on my roof for a while longer, maybe even the rest of the day. Geez, I had not even seen a helicopter fly anywhere nearby. Not wanting to stand still any longer, not wanting to feel so powerless in my misfortune, I carefully climbed down to the peak the young woman was laying on.
“Girlie, you have my deepest sympathy. There is whole world to see. This shithole town’s no place for a final resting.”
After kneeling down beside her I brushed the wet, dirty blonde hair from her face. Holy shit, I knew her. Jasmine. Her name was Jasmine. Oh, what was her last name again? I could almost hear it in my head, like a distant echo. Her mother and father had split up a few years back. She was sixteen at the time. Before that she had babysat for me three times, sweet girl, very quiet. Whinstone, that’s it; Jasmine Whinstone.
Now that I knew who she was I found myself staring again. Last time I saw her she was a bean-pole of a girl, tall and skinny. It was clearly apparent she had filled out in the past three years. Her body, so young and new, reminded me of the girls in the Fredericks of Hollywood catalogues I got twice a year. You know, skinny, yet with enough curves to still look like a woman.
Sure Jasmine was a little plain for looks, but her slender body would have fit the lingerie perfectly. Maybe it’s a good thing my husband wasn’t here or he would have gotten an eye full. Was that jealousy I felt, maybe it was, hmmm-that’s kinda funny.
While brushing the hair from her face again I noticed a hint of warmth in her cheek. Paying it no mind, and still caught up in my own thoughts I traced her upper and lower lips with my index finger. Wait, what was that, I swore I felt a tiny quiver. She moved. The shock of her lazily swatting my hand from her face jolted my legs with enough energy to instantly stand me up.
“Sweet Jesus, you’re alive!” I screamed, not meaning to.
Jasmine’s eyes fluttered, a moment before they slowly peeled open. She did not look at me first. Before casting her gaze my way she looked at her hands. Turning them over and over she examined them, if only for a moment, before planting them both firmly on the shingles above where her head had just rested. Sliding her knees under herself she arched her back in a stretch like a dog waking from a nap.
“Why me?” she yawned while bowing her back upward.
I wanted to speak, but I found no words. I just watched as she stood up and braced herself against the wall of my house. I wondered if she even knew I was there, since she seemed entranced by her reflection in my bathroom window.
“What happened?”
Was she talking to me? I hesitated to speak and when I did not answer her she twisted her head to me, her wet hair flopping over her eyes again when the wind caught it.
“What happened to me?” she repeated, her voice dropping so low I almost couldn’t hear it.
“What? I-I you were—” I stuttered.
“Oh God where am I? How did I get here?” She shook as she spit out question after question.
I guess you could say my maternal instincts kicked in, because I felt a deep concern for her as if she was one of my children.
“Easy girl, watch your step we’re on a roof.”
“A roof?”
I saw her eyes widen through the panic, she hadn’t realized it until now. Grasping at the window frame she searched for something solid to hold on to.
“You’re safe now. Here, take my hand.”
I reached out to her and when I did I could see something click in her head. I think it was that very moment that she remembered me. I don’t blame her. I was a mess; a shade of the person I was a day ago, let alone three years. Back then, the last time we held each other’s company, I had longer hair and was all prettied up for the State Fair. Come to think of it, that was the last night Joseph and I went out, three years and some months ago.
“You? Mrs. Ros—”
“Sarah.” I interrupted her.
Jasmine took my hand in hers. The sensation of her warm skin struck me as odd. I guess I expected her to be a touch colder, having spent the night down there in the murky waters.
“Lord, how did I get here?” she said patting her open hands down her stomach to her hips where her pant pockets would have been. “Did you see—”
“There was a flash flood. I reckon you were caught up in it; must have swept your clothes clear off.”
Jasmine gazed down at herself then back up at me. Had our roles been reversed, I think I would have made efforts to cover myself, chest to crotch, but she did not. Maybe I was a little insecure, maybe it was this younger generation. I had this thought before, last time I was at the market, that girls these days seemed more confident with their bodies. Jasmine, she seemed at home, standing there all naked. Gosh, how she’d grown, last time I saw her she was so reserved and proper. I couldn’t help but wonder what changed.
“I have a rain jacket up on the pitch, you could wear it.”
I know she heard me, because she nodded, but her attention was gone. Eyes cast out far into the submerged fields behind where my old barn used to sit. She just kept nodding as I talked.
“Let’s climb back up there together. I’ll help you up.”
“S-okay Mrs. Sarah, I’m a good climber, runs in the family.”
Family. As I recall hers had a nasty split. Her parents’ divorce was the talk of the town. I remember it well. One day her mother had made a big stink in the grocery store. She was screaming and throwing glass bottles of strawberry jelly around, going on like a true lunatic. No one was sure what was wrong with her, but the checkout girl told me later that she thought the woman had gone mad or at least was stone-drunk. Later that week the police were at their home. Reports of domestic abuse and a pair of photos hit our newspapers the following morning. Both Jasmine’s Ma and Pa had bruises and cuts on their faces and arms. It was a sad thing to see.
“I used to climb the apple tree outside my home all the time. My dad says the first time he saw me climb it I was four. He tells me it was the damndest thing he’d ever seen. You scooted up the side of that tree like a baby bear and reached the perfect crook to rest in, that’s what he would tell me over and over.”
I watched her pull herself up to the rooftop beside me with little effort. By the time I put my hand out to help her she had both feet firmly planted on the peak and was wiping her dirty hands on her hips. Her father was plainly right.
“My husband’s rain jacket is a little big on me, so it should cover you up all nice and fine.”
Jasmine stepped her feet around in a small circle so she could see every direction. She made a sour face as she stared off into the mess of muddy water and bobbing debris. She could smell it too. I’m sure. God, it all just stunk to high heaven, but at least there was a tiny breeze moving the air about.
Taking the jacket in her left hand she did not rush to put it on as I imagined I would in her circumstance. She held it down to her side while looking to my street out front. Feeling a little weak I sat myself down and closed my eyes a moment to empty my head.
“I was clear on the other side of Interstate 94. What the hell brought me all the way out here?”
“Your dad lives out that way right?”
“We both do. Mother took the house, so we moved into a mobile home in Starkenberg a few years back.”
“Jasmine, I never got to tell you I was sorry. Last time you sat for my kids was a month or so before…”
“No, it’s okay, not like it was your fault.”
“I know, I’m just sorry you had to deal with all that at such an age. A girl needs to be a girl, live her own life…”
I was giving myself away, my tone of voice, the way my words shook halfway through. I hoped she was too young to be so empathic, but she noticed it, I could see it in the way she looked at me.
“Mighty comfortable without yah clothes,” I tried to take the focus off me and put it back on her. “Do you mind? Kinda hard having a conversation while you’re bare as a newborn baby.”
“Sorry, not often I get this opportunity.”
I put forth my best efforts not to stare at her, but as the minutes flew by and she stayed buck naked I gave up.
“You ever wish you could just escape the confines of your reality Mrs. Sarah? Do whatever you want, whenever you want?” Jasmine said, still staring out towards the road.
“Every day.”
“Sometimes I hate feeling confined within my own skin. I guess you could say I’m one of those people who cannot deal with being crowded.”
“Claustrophobic.” I knew exactly how she felt.
“That’s it.”
She took her eyes off the distance and finally looked down at me. We held the most uncomfortable eye contact I had ever had with another person. It was even more itchy-twitchy than when Joseph and I had the talk about not having any more children two years ago. Worse than that, oh my, I never would’ve imagined it possible.
Raising the jacket to her shoulders, she slipped one and then the other arm into the sleeves, allowing it to slide down over her. The jacket, as I guessed it would, reached her down to mid-thigh and would have kept her private bits covered had she cinched it shut at the waist.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. The flood did not take my clothes.”
Feeling a little odd, I held quiet for a time and she did too. I could not help but sense a kinship to her, one I had not felt for another person in years. At the same time I kept questioning her in my head. I started to realize why, Jasmine reminded me of myself when I was young: curious, rebellious, stupid, and lost.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jasmine. I’m not here to judge you sweetie.”
“Then you’d be the first person.”
My curiosity about her had overcome my feelings of hunger. For the moment I had forgotten where I was and thought only about who she was. I figured the best way to find out more about her was to offer more of myself.
“I was just twenty when I got pregnant. I wanted to be free, but I became, as you said, confined by my own skin. Do you have a boyfriend, Jasmine?”
“Me? Oh-no, how could I? I mean I—”
“You’re father’s real strict, isn’t he?” I guessed.
“You think I meant that a boy took my clothes? You think that I was foolin’ around when the flood hit?” she smirked and pointed at me playfully.
The thought had crossed my mind. I mean at her age, it was what I was doing.
“Where’s your husband then?”
“When the flood hit, he had his little fishing boat out. He took the boys and motored away. He went down the street, you know, towards town.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?”
“It’s a very small boat. I told him it would be safer if they went on without me.”
“You didn’t want the boat to tip over.”
“That’s right.”
I lied. Why did I lie?
“I wanted them to go on without me.”
When my mouth had finally spit out the words Jasmine responded simply by sitting down next to me. She did not say anything, and she did not have to. I could read it on her young face; there was an eagerness to hear more of what I had to say. Living with Joseph I had grown used to not having a good listener in my life.
“Truth be told, I was hoping, before the flood got so bad that I had to climb up here, to actually—”
I couldn’t believe I was actually saying it out loud.
“Run away?”
Jasmine guessed it.
I had seen the flood as a perfect opportunity to escape my miserable life, but I did it again—I took too long. Why didn’t I leave when I had the chance? As I was preparing to leave, to finally escape; a wave of rushing water, like one on a beach, struck my house hard. I was knocked clear off my feet, tumbling down the stairs into the water that had broken through the first floor windows and door.
It was cold, thick water, almost syrupy. I screamed, at the moment only grossed out by getting that disgusting water on my face, but before my holler ended I wailed; cried with the pain of disappointment. I knew then I missed my chance.
“My life shouldn’t be like this.”
“How should it be?”
“I guess more like yours. Boundless,” I told her. “Free to do whatever I want, whenever I want. Free to run naked in the rain like you were.”
“You know once freedom is lost, you got to fight to get it back. I’m sorry Mrs. Sarah, but you don’t look like much of a fighter to me.”
Making comments like that I started to wonder… who where you Jasmine, a Godsend or the Devil come to test me?
“He-Joseph, he was abusive. I…”
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