Fall in May

~55~ Like a lamb to the slaughter.

"The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything." ~ Friedrich Nietzche

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November 31st - Black Friday

It is that Friday, the day after Thanksgiving when everyone goes shopping for sale stuff they never needed and didn't even know they wanted. May has called me while I was at work, and left me a message that her parents are over at some relatives in the City tonight. But rather than cancel our standing Friday date night, May asks if I can come to pick her up at her Grimm House up in The Hills, with address included. So after my time on the throne watching the last of the lappers beat water, I shower up and change into my riding gear and take my Deathwish up into The Hills.

In the spirit of San Fall originality, the hills above San Fall are called The Hills. But The Hills are a lot more than just one or two hills looming and lording over San Fall. More like a lot of little ascending rolling hills, one after another, behind The Hill that the little people down below can't see.

Just from hearing things around school, I know that there are two main communities the compose The Hills. Hillcrest which is exactly what it sounds like, the very top of The Hills. then there is Hills Heights, which is the little nooks and hollows below the Crest, but still above San Fall proper. So even without a view, they're still allowed to look down on the little people and feel super superior about being higher up in the air.

So up into The Hills I go, to seek out the lair of my dark goddess. I take the slow sloping curves up and around the Hills, and it's like a completely different world up here. I keep driving up around and around getting lost for a while. Finally, after two wrong ways and doubling back twice, I get to the hillock that goes to May's house.

When I finally pull up at the end of the long fence that surrounds the House of Grimm. I double check the address again to make sure I am in the right place. I can't really see much of the house itself from the street, thanks to long ass fence in front of the place.

Of course it's not a normal fence either, but a parquet wood monstrosity. With long alternating light and dark natural wood beams anchored into stone river rock pillars. Set right into the middle of the fence is one of those masive modernized celestial circle moon gate things. I have the feeling this thing should probably painted red, like in old Hong Kong dubbed Kung Fu movies.

Honestly, it's a beautiful gate, that says to me..."Hey Bro we have money up in this place. So why don't you take your sorry used to have warchild braids ass and get gone. Cause there ain't nothing for you here dude. And do not even think about kicking the bricks please, because our bricks are expensive and shit. They're like imported from a little villa in Italia, with a name you can never pronounce. And let's face it, by the time you can afford to go there the oldtimers will have already long kicked it, so you'll never remember the name anyways. So just go away before we have to call the poor people patrol, and have you arrested for trespassing without a trust fund.

I try to ignore the dark voices in my head, as I walk up long slabs of some sort of exotic sandstone up at an angle to a moon gate. Where I push the doorbells on the barricade, that of course don't ring normally. They have orison chimes, like ancient Carillon church bells from some Italian palazzo. But not in Rome, but somewhere classy like Milan or Córdoba. Where the old world values have not yet been corrupted by modern civilization. Where pasta is made by hand in the traditional manner...and justice is still subject to the law of vendetta.

Before I can even think to ring the bells on the barricade again, the moon gate thing swings open. To reveal April standing there haughtily looking down her perfect nose at me. Today Someone's Sister is dressed up in her cheery best. With full warpaint and clearly headed out to another "popular pod peeps party" in her never-ending social carousel of shiny soirees.