dori_bell: (portrait)
[personal profile] dori_bell
Dorothy was awakened by a thudding sound on the aluminum roof of her trailer. It was a pattering like rain, which would have been unusual enough in Searchlight, but more viscous, as though bowls of thick soup had been tossed from the sky only to ooze down the windows and back up in the drainage pipes.

The streetlights cast a burnt-orange glow on her bedroom walls. Dori sat up and pinched the inner corners of her eyes. Long, tangled strands of hair clung to her temples and cheeks. It was as she sat there blinking that Dori realized the lights were not orange… they simply shown through a fluid the color of iodine.

She walked barefoot to the window, unlatched and pulled it open. A warm breeze came through the trembling screen. Thump-thump-thump-thud… The smell wasn’t fresh like a thunderstorm. It was heavy and organic, a slaughter-house scent that increased as a meaty clot of tissue splattered her windowsill. She touched the wire mesh and her fingers came away red.

It was blood.

Fearless and in awe, Dori left the trailer in her nightgown and ventured onto the narrow road, which was sharp and hurt her feet. She made for a disturbing sight, that young blonde girl covered in gore, her cheeks smeared with finger marks from where she’d wiped at her eyes. She walked until she came to a magnificent beast laboring and rising from the dirt near his mistress’s black skirts. It was a creature of blood and sinew and bone, unlike anything she had seen or imagined. Hidden in the shadows, Dori arched her neck to look at it and smiled. Blood ran into the spaces between her teeth and tasted of iron and salt.

“What a beautiful boy,” she whispered.

Beautiful and terrible.
dirtywhiteboy: (Damn...)
[personal profile] dirtywhiteboy
Years ago, Ruben had wondered how long it would take for the sun to burn him into ashes. It had been a random notion, one he hadn't seriously entertained, but he thought of that time every now and then. For a man who couldn't see himself in a mirror, he was strangely reflective.

It was three a.m. The bars had announced last call an hour ago. Even in Las Vegas, some laws still held. If you wanted to drink after two in the morning, you had to go home or somewhere else.

He was stepping over the legs of the dead man in the alley, heading towards the sidewalk. He'd learned to eat quietly. Someone would probably find the body eventually, most likely an unlucky garbageman. Nevada was warming up, careening towards summer.

There was a pale moon trying to shine down through the light pollution, and Ruben turned his face up towards it. The moon was cold, remote, but it was also kind. It wouldn't burn him.

Neighbors

Apr. 11th, 2014 11:04 pm
wolfs_daughter: (Conversing)
[personal profile] wolfs_daughter
Spring was here. The change in temperature had happened, and while there were no shade trees to sprout green leaves, there was a sparse offering of grass in some places. Even in the desert, things could grow.

Echo had gotten the job at the daycare center. She'd lucked out and they hadn't wanted someone with a teaching certificate, just someone who was good with children and could drive the communal van to take them on the occasional outing. The job wasn't going to make her rich, but she enjoyed it and it got her out of the house.

She'd finished dinner, and was now contemplating a run out in the desert. She'd kept up with the practicing, and shifting didn't hurt anymore. Searchlight was so quiet at night that she no longer worried about being spotted. One of the benefits of living around so many retirees was that they all seemed to go to bed before it got dark.

There were two lawn chairs on the trailer's front yard, and a plastic table for drinks and sometimes sandwiches. Echo didn't really have visitors, but sometimes one of her close neighbors would stop by to talk.

Life was pretty good.
dori_bell: (oh!)
[personal profile] dori_bell
The blonde girl sat on the top step outside the Guardian Angel cathedral. She wore mourning blue, dark and conservative: a pleated skirt, a clean blouse with a tailored jacket buttoned too high, a wide-brimmed hat. She had pinned a wilted mum to her lapel. She tilted her face to the church with its stained glass windows illuminated from within. A night service carried on. She heard singing, an organ. It was a place of grief strangely juxtaposed against a celebratory city. On the high stone steps, people often remarked about the general lack of respect shown by tourists as they motored past the sanctuary. Dori smoked a cigarette and watched traffic crawl by. Her knees were pressed together but there was a view up her skirt if you got the right angle. White panties worn with no hose. Someone honked. Her gaze darted and flickered like a bird’s, but she didn’t adjust her ankles.

Sometimes she came to these things. People asked her how she knew so-and-such and vague answers sufficed. Dori knew them from the neighborhood, from school, from volunteering at the hospital… she could pick up all sorts of life details from an obit. She looked nonthreatening and half the time, people tuned out her answers because they had only asked to be polite, to show some semblance of proper decorum.

It was warm tonight. She considered peeling off her jacket and blouse and sitting there in a thin undershirt, where she would be mistaken for a half-dressed drunk. Someone would offer to walk her home, and maybe they’d be decent and do so, or maybe they’d steer her into a gritty corner to take advantage. Once she had taken a life that way… let him feel her up, exclaim over her innocence, and then –

Pffft

– she crumpled her fist and his life sifted away like dirt through her fingers. Quietly.

Dori scraped her shoe against the concrete and listened to the music from a car's open windows.

[Thread: Open to Anyone]
whistlersmum: (Default)
[personal profile] whistlersmum
Whistler had so become a fixture at the university library, students had started approaching him for reference information.

UNLV's Special Collections housed unique, rare, and specialized research material that documented the history, culture and physical environment of the city of Las Vegas, the Southern Nevada region, the gaming industry, and the University of Nevada Las Vegas.The collections included books, pamphlets, posters, serials and periodicals, scrapbooks, archives and manuscripts, maps, architectural drawings, photographs, and more recently, video and audio tapes.

Everything he needed about the history of Searchlight, the boomtown years, the historic landscape, prominent citizens. And, after days of searching, the Agent finally found the real treasure map he'd sought: a map of the town before it's decline in the nineteen forties.

His finger traced the streets that led to the (former) Catholic Church. "Here's the church, and here's the steeple. Open the doors..."

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