Commissioned [completed]

Chapter 9 - Eyes of Starlight

"That doesn't sound real," Marie paused in her noodle slurping to say, her ramen halfway to her mouth and forgotten about.

"Doesn't feel real," you agreed. You were cross-legged on a computer chair and sketching a piece out for painting. This upgraded room had a lovely writing desk, which was almost worth nearly dying for.

"Do you think they put, I don't know, coke in the fog machines or something? Make you experience the satanism?"

"I didn't think of that," you pondered it but looked at your arm, free in your singlet. Three cheap floss stitches, just as you remembered. "Nah, I don't think so. This place has thrown me through a loop. Maybe I've cracked—I fit right in; the townies are nuts. Do you know how many 'the end is nigh' signs I saw just trying to get some milk the other day?"

"And yet, you can't seem to pull yourself away."

"I barely have the gas money to get home; this commission," you jabbed the end of your brush at it, "will get me groceries for the next two weeks." It was a sweet, old marital piece for an anniversary. You were in a bad mood with love presently, so you thought the sentiment was gross. You wouldn't let that come across in the painting, though. Stupid happy people.

"You know you hate it, but I don't mind covering you. I'd feel better with you here anyway." You glanced up at her in the little window on your laptop. You were watching her desktop as she painted trading cards in Photoshop, and she was watching you scribble your sketch. "Ear is funky," she pointed out.

You looked again at your sketch, and she was right, "ear is funky," you agreed, no problem with her over your shoulder; artists just know. "I want to see this one through; interest has been piqued. It's all very...."

"Has nothing to do with the ghoul or the Papa, huh?"

"I was going to say 'Scooby-doo'—I dunno; it reminds me of some of the weird shit Dad used to talk about, you know? He was super into that occult stuff for a while there."

"Your dad has been super into everything at some point, right?" She laughed.

Your dad was a special creature; one hobby was never enough. Didn't help that he excelled at everything he tried. Nothing was ever challenging enough for him. "I suppose maybe it's in my blood to grab onto something tight before moving on to the next thing. Then again, there is Jared... maybe it's a religious thing...." you trailed off.

"It's a cool thing to have in your blood; my mum's side of the family only has diabetes."

"Oo, dark."

"Feeling dark, you would be too if you were painting a fey wild necromancer; look at her." She selected the top layer of her bottom jaw and transformed it to wobble it about, "Give me your soul ______, I wish to water my freaky plants with it, whehehehh."

"I am so glad we are friends," you sighed. "Maybe I should call Dad, see what he thinks of Papas and ghouls and things. Bets are, he has heard of the church; it wouldn't surprise me." You massaged your ear; it had been ringing a lot lately, the last three days especially. Maybe it was tinnitus. It was getting so loud today.

Marie went back to slurping at her noodles. "Posture's shit," she pointed out.

"Hers," you point at your bride sketch, "or mine."

"Her's is fine."

"And you, you little noodle gremlin?"

"Do as I say, not as I do, young one."

"Fine." You stretched yourself out in the sun twinkling through your window, and your back popped in some places. "When did I get this old?"

"You don't remember your birthday? Was nice I got you that Tamagotchi you let die... ______." Her tone shifted. She was still smiling in the camera feed. "Don't react."