Red Groove

3. The Dead March (Mika's POV) --- II

I drift my eyes through the throng in confusion. Seeing a skinny guy in black jeans and t-shirt, make my lips smile automatically.

"Hi Samuel! Haven't seen you in ages!" I wave at and join my childhood friend and his foster family in the crowd.

It's been three years since I saw him, but we kept in touch through texts. He wants to become a writer nowadays, writes stories that leave bitter aftertastes on my tongue.

He always stands away from his foster parents although he calls Mrs. Conner 'Mum' and Mr. Conner 'Dad'. At least before everyone. I heard about a scandal regarding Sam some years ago, something involving his expulsion from St. Berchman School for Boys and his going to prison for some weeks.

      From Mika's Album, labelled "Mee at   
      the Movies :P"

"O Micah. It's you. And I thought you people didn't like it here." He says with a smile, revealing a dimple on his cheek.

I gaze at him in astonishment. Can't recognize him almost. So tall! And only five years older than me! His tobacco stained fingers and sleepless eyes indicate a life lived in suffering and addiction.

"O that. No I like this place. What are you guys gonna do now?"

"We'll decorate the graves of my great-grand mamma and great -granddad with their favorite risotto Mum cooked. And pray to them. And sing. But you know, there's a problem. Something awful."

"What?"

"Someone dug all the graves in the churchyard and robbed the skeletons. All thirteen of them. It was ghastly to see those dirt holes scattered with few bones, in front of the holy building." He stamped his foot."Dogs were lunching on those remains. Even the old man at church was upset and gave a speech bout it."

"How sad!" I shiver." It's sick."

"Yep. And nobody has ever done anything of this sort before. Someone crazy is around."

I feel my stomach churn, and my blood grow inky. A boom of cold, slimy ideas inside my head makes the crushing sadness instantly pour into me. And I was just feeling better.

"You silent? Seems interesting, doesn't it?"

"I'm gonna go now. Bye."

"Wait, why?"

"I don't feel so good Sammy."

"Hush, you're such a coward. What makes you shake so much? Are you a wimp now?"

"You're rude." Waving, I stomp away from him.

"What the hell? We just met after a long time?"

It drizzles a little on my way back, and births scoops of water in the cobbled stones of the path. Vineville has weird weather, like that of those Texas memes.

I spend the afternoon alone, picking at watery rice and thick boiled tomatoes in a paste of crushed bell peppers and chilies.

Deep blue thoughts nibble inside me, and Sadness bites and rages like a real pain. A crazy person? Is it a wannabe serial killer? What disgusting thing is it doing with those stolen calcium structures? Is it eating them in a soup? Is it a cannibal? Is it experimenting on those? O God, help me...

I check my phone.

-Hi Micah

-You left in such a hurry thought we'd talk.

-have a great plan Wanna hound up the crazy man just like old times?

-Pls reply.

Sam texts tonight.

So Sam still lives in the past.

We used to do things like that when we were younger. Our duo was quite notorious for terrorizing the neighbors with mischief, though I humbly surrender all credit of such terrorism to Sam. His army of the naughtiest cat who knew how to access and use make-up destructively used to be a thing too before it was disbanded.

And I was always his companion, his friend, his sister, before Father left three years ago with my sister Rena.

I ignore it, because I have always ignored his offers to renew the past since Father went away. Because it is inevitably locked away in a time loop. No one can save it. It's like the sleeping beauty whom no kiss of love can revive.

But next day, when Mother grounds me for shattering the porcelain salt shaker at breakfast, and Sam texts again-

-Hi

-i've been thinking about you

-Let's go on the crazy man hunt pls

-at least meet up

I feel inclined to un-mesh my window with a hidden screwdriver and hop out. I can't waste my a Sunday on a mother, who evidently feels happy to punish me. Or on a sadness generated by something related to her.

I'm young and want a second chance so desperately.

*****************************************
Please Comment and Upvote.