Telluric

Chapter VI: Those Who Eat with the Devil

VI

Arriving at the Blackbird's Perch, Marilyn treaded lightly up the steps. The bar smelled of cigarettes and liquor, and the people; of despair or celebration. She avoided the sweaty pig-like men who attempted to grab her, elbowing their ribs.

She arrived at a room she had asked for at the front desk. Her right hand held a purse, and her left; a large suitcase. Within the suitcase were clothes, money, personal items, and a secret compartment. She hid macabre trinkets within the compartment, though no one who knew her was quite sure of what.

"I think I'll visit my sister tonight." She mumbled to herself, shutting the suitcase after unpacking her clothes, as she planned for a elongated trip.

***

Darkness succumbed to the village, and a light snowfall treaded downward onto the ground. Though, light, the snowflakes were large and felt heavy on the shoes of those who treaded through them, including the plague-masked man.

He wandered ominously down the street, watching as a young woman made her way down, seemingly toward a set of apartments just on the east side of town. He paced slowly behind her, the pink dim in the streetlights.

Marilyn became a bit paranoid, suspecting that someone was behind her. She turned her head, and found a masked man staring at her. She was spooked a bit, but quickly became intimidating. The man was not phased at all.

"What the hell do you want?" She spat in his direction. She then turned. "I don't have time for this." When she looked over her shoulder again, however, the man disappeared.

Marilyn looked around, slightly frightened that he might threaten to attack her. She composed herself, however, when she realized that the man was gone. She took a deep breath, and continued her trek through the darkness.

Shortly after, she arrived at a small house, in a suburb outside the town hall. Lights were on inside, and Marilyn strutted up to the door. Knocking three times, she waited patiently on the steps. A squeaky and familiar bark was heard from inside, and the door opened.

"Marilyn!" Christine gasped. She was dressed in pajamas. Ginger backed away frightened when Christine walked by her. "What are you doing here?" She spoke shrewdly. Marilyn squinted at Christine, as she suspected something was off about her.

"I thought I'd drop by. I was... in the neighborhood." Marilyn explained to her. Christine invited her in, and the two sat awkwardly in the parlor of the house.

Breaking the silence, Marilyn leaned down and pet the ever-friendly Ginger. Ginger whined, for a reason Marilyn couldn't quite place. Ginger was a content dog, who hardly ever did anything bad. But something was wrong, Marilyn could tell.

"Hello Ginger." She cooed at the bloodhound. "What's wrong?" She whispered, out of reach from Christine's hearing.

"Get gone, Ginger." Christine whipped her found around and kicked the dog mercilessly. Marilyn gasped. This person couldn't be her sister. Her sister would never hurt any living thing.

But she concealed her thoughts once more, in an effort to discover what was going on. Christine invited her in for dinner, which was tomato soup, apparently. 'At least that thing hasn't changed.' Marilyn thought. 'She always did love tomato soup.'

Marilyn took off her hat and gloves, and slipped out of her high heels. Walking with Christine to the kitchen, Christine prepared soup for Marilyn, and they carried it to the long table in her dining room. Marilyn sipped at the soup for a while, as did Christine. They ate in silence, Ginger whimpering silently in the corner of the living room.