Down Twill Pass

Chapter 4

"I see a sky painted ruby red above my little head." Lydia leaps across each plank of oak, a xylophone, with each step a higher pitched creak. She licks her fingertip, flipping page through page, an attempt to read. Lydia was never taught to read nor to count nor to breathe. Admiring the photographs of young boys and young girls and young people she danced about the railroad track. When Lydia was a young girl, her father left (according to her mother) to pursue a career as a train conductor. She never questioned the thought although she was quite the dreamer because he was a mean man. They fell poverty stricken at this time and until one day when the trains stopped chugging by, she watched from dusk 'till dawn. Waiting for the time he'd stick his head out of the beginner car and call her name.

Lydia's boon companion was a boy named Myrion. She always believed he resembled a thumb, a pale thumb with a full head of messy chocolate hair. His mannerisms those of a rag doll, a poetic soul whom recited the letters of the alphabet unusually. He filled in the gaps of the letters with fancy words Lydia had never heard before, "Abbatial, Bavarian, Conscience." He was beyond intelligent and to her that was beautiful. The two would harmonize on their wooden xylophone, skipping opposite ways to create a unique tune. Whether rain or shine, the brilliance of such young minds pondered alike within a dense muse. A marriage of two most dissimilar personalities.

"Lydia, come inside dear." She waved goodbye as Myrion ran into the dark brush surrounding Twill Pass. A storm crawled over the horizon, an morbid color sequence of different shades of brown, darker than her friend's hair. She spun around in the open field afront her home as cool drops of rain tickled her skin. "Get inside you fool, are ya insane?".
Her mother screamed frantically as one of God's fingers touched the field behind Lydia. She hurried inside, collecting her kitten from the floor and a little gecko attached to the wall. Her step-father was at work at the nearby cotton gin, and yet without his presence the two barely fit into their bathroom. The twister decided to bid farewell, and to that that evening Lydia's mother and step-father clinked bottomless whiskey glasses.

A rapping sounded at the door and Lydia's mother opened it as if it was her own coffin. A stiff man with a receding hairline and a shiny bald head stood there uncomfortably. "Good day, my name is Vixen Dischwint." The man had a strict German accent, his brown suit too big, his emerald tie too small. He held a briefcase in his pale bony left hand. "Vincent Dish who?" He showed an unfamiliar ID, surely enough wording the same name attached with a picture resonating the same man.
Grabbing his hand and shaking it firmly Lydia's mother remarked "Come on in honey, have a seat on the sofa alright? Can I get you a beverage?" She guided him inside their home. "A cup of tea would be rather splendid madam, thank you kindly." "Call me Mariam sweetheart" her mother contributed. Mariam opened her kitchen cabinets, producing a tea cup and a small plate made of fine china. Vixen lighted his pipe, a trail of smoke escaping into the chilly air.

"My apologies for my late arrival, my watch fractured earlier this forenoon." He sat down his briefcase, eyes darting from place to place. "Please, give no sorrow, I can't recall expecting an attendance of anyone this eventide. I expect you'd appreciate if I introduced my daughter, Lydia. Be a proper girl and greet the fellow." She gestured to Lydia, and to fend off her empty stare she shoved her forward. Lydia nodded and took a seat opposite Vixen. She held her kitten in her arms, carefully stroking him and dozing off as it was rather late. "Perfect, I appreciate your introduction dear." Vixen smirked at Lydia lowly.

"I must say, well perhaps, why I bring my company here tonight. I have examinations to perform, would that be of a bother? Again, I really do apologize for my lateness." "Why absolutely not, what are they for?" Mariam passed Vixen his strong tea, and he sipped between puffs of tobacco. "I, you see ma'am, work for a mortuary. I was interested in getting to know better your daughter, as we have fallen low on employees." Vixen suddenly fell dead, slumping off the sofa. Gore soaked the yellow flowered pattern it was beholding. Liam Brown stood at the door, pistol in hand, waving it around like a mad man. "Are you absolutely fucking insane? I have lost my shit dealing with you and I thought I never would do so again." "How dare you cheat on me Mariam? You know I love you baby." His words slurred, slowly paced and dragging like a heavy weight. "You're drunk!" She screamed so highly the entirety of earth could hear.

Soon the police arrived, hauling out Vixen's corpse and arresting Lydia's biological father. Vixen had a small bullet hole, a .22 fit right before his heart. Lydia left upon his heart a love letter, one she had yet to name. She has a feeling, someday, she'd assume who would receive that letter. She knew when she set it down on his lifeless chest she had only just begun a legacy.