Haunt

Curtis Jams Makes a Friend - Part 2 of 2

Weekend One - Friday Night, Continued

September 16, 2022

A few minutes later, Julie, the Bellegravian Banshee, launched herself into the room in a brilliant swirl of silver, wailing a shrill vibrato at the patrons. How she made that noise all night without trashing her voice was anybody's guess. As usual, her noise scared the hell out of the patrons, and as usual, she was a big distraction and messed up the rhythm of Curtis's schtick. It was nothing new; that was just how Julie rolled.

Julie was a woman about ten years older than Curtis. For many seasons, she'd worked in one of the Ghosts of London outdoor alleyways, hiding in the dry-ice fog and doing impressive banshee wails. She was known as the Bellegravian Banshee to patrons, though the people who worked here had other names for her.

Julie was unpopular; she had numerous boundary issues, the worst of which was supposedly thievery, though Curtis thought that might just be a nasty rumor. But aside from that, she got too close to people, was handsy with both men and women (though not quite handsy enough to get fired for it), nosed into everyone's business, and interrupted conversations she was not a part of. Her strange and off-putting mannerisms got tiresome pretty fast. For example, she didn't know when to quit with her character acting. She made her weird wailing sound and brandished her fake knife at other screamsters' throats, even during breaks or in the makeup line. Having a legitimate conversation with her was difficult. The menagerie of Haunt was populated end-to-end by weirdos, but Julie's weirdness separated her even from them.

Curtis was the only one in Ghosts of London who tolerated her. Her bad habits didn't bother him much, perhaps because her strangeness made good stories to tell his sister later, perhaps because he'd always been comfortable around weirdos, considering himself part of the club.

In the real world, Julie was ordinary-looking, round-bodied, round-faced, brown-eyed with bobbed brunette hair, nothing that would turn heads. Being the Banshee transformed her, and she knew it. In the black-and-white makeup color palette, her face was dramatically lovely, surrounded by a wig of cascading white hair that matched her freakish white costume contact lenses. Those creepy contacts made her eyes look like she could stare through one's soul, and she never seemed to blink. Her gown required a corset that gave her an hourglass curve and an impressive field of cleavage. The dress was a marvel of silver satin, sweeping the ground as its voluminous skirts swirled about her. Little girls who saw her would turn starry-eyed with wonder and follow her, eager to touch what they called the "princess" dress.

Curtis understood Julie had made the dress herself and had done such a professional job that the wardrobe department permitted her to wear it as part of her character, which rarely happened. Wardrobe seldom let "outside" pieces of costumes anywhere near their operation. Curtis wanted to add a pocket watch to his London gentleman's outfit, but when he'd tried to clear it with the wardrobe clerks, they forbade it because it was "too noisy" and might give him away to patrons. In a house full of screaming teenagers and blaring violin concertos, the idea that anyone could hear the ticking of his pocket watch was hilarious, but Curtis obediently put it away. He knew better than to try arguing with any department under Jackie's purview.

The shining silver banshee swept into the Ouija Board room, smirking at him. "What are you up to in here?" Julie demanded in her constant, heavy, but imperfect Cockney accent. "What's all the fuss going on? Our usual customers are all abuzz about your little Wee-Jee board and not about me! Which ain't the way they're supposed to be, git me? I'm the Screamster of the Year!"

"You were screamster of the year. Who knows about this year?"

"Oh, sassy, aren't we?"

"They're really talking about me?" Curtis was unable to hide his pleasure.