Vintage Memories

Chapter Thirteen "The Devil's In The Details"

The dynamic Saturday afternoon streets of New Orleans were alive with bustling, busy people, all hurrying on their way to complete their day's errands. A strapping, dapperly dressed young man sat at a table out front of a quaint café, erected alongside the library he loved to frequent. His nose was deeply immured in a novel, a glass of iced tea placed untouched on the table in front of him. A book bag, sealed tightly, was placed deliberately between the leg of his chair and his feet. A gentle smile decorated his chiseled features, his chocolate brown eyes tracing his book.

Passing women would often steal glances at the handsome, charming young man, tittering between themselves in abashment. Though well aware, Allen paid them no mind. He was more than conscious of his gentlemanly charm over the town's women, young and old alike, but the idea of it all failed to interest him in the slightest. Allen simply enjoyed the Saturdays he could get out of the house and have some quiet time away from the mundane normalcy of his day-to-day home life.

Born the son of a prominent New Orleans doctor, and a community-adored school teacher; from the day he could walk, his shoulders were burdened with the weight of heavy expectations to uphold. For the entirety of his young life, his days were filled with private tutors and extensive studying. Not to say that he wasn't successful in his studies, he excelled even. His parents were well aware of his brilliant mind, which only caused his father to push him more and more to practice medicine. The medical profession did peak his interest a bit, however, not for the reason his father expected.

Allen was fascinated with death.

For as long as Allen could remember, he would often wake in the middle of the night to someone banging on their front door, desperate for his father's help. It would straightaway precede some sort of emergency surgery in their dining room, mere feet away from where they would eat breakfast the next morning. From a young age he would sneak away from his bedroom, creeping down the stairs to watch them from the crack in the door. He would watch in allurement as the blood trickled across the dark wood floor, covered usually by a thin sheet of plastic, and admire the brilliant anatomy of the organs inside the human body. He was absolutely captivated with the process of death, watching the light drain from his father's patients' eyes; It was certainly entertaining. A twisted desire in the back of his mind constantly hoped for every surgery he witnessed to fail, hooked by the sheer animal magnetization that came with death proving victorious despite his father's desperate measures.

Approaching seventeen years of age, the carnal desires to have a direct hand in that process were becoming harder to ignore. Although, woefully, with his parents incessant pestering for his excellence and their relentless, strict control of his schedule, he hardly had a chance to explore those fascinatingly dark thoughts thoroughly. The only chance of escape he had were the couple of hours on Saturday afternoons allowed by his parents to spend out in the town on his own.
Allen jolted suddenly as hands came around him from behind, covering his eyes.

"Guess who." A playful, east coast accent purred. Allen chuckled and relaxed, the hands of his surprise guest still over his eyes as he shut his book.

"I see your father had some business down here again." The hands pulled away and Allen turned his head to see his young converser, his freshly dyed blonde hair shining in the afternoon sun.
His blue eyes traced the brunette sitting down, before he sauntered over to the other chair across the table, seating himself. It had been a few months since he had last seen the fiery blonde in town and Allen certainly missed his company when he was gone.

"Ya' still come here every Saturday huh? Still got no life?" The young teen teased, resting his elbows on the table. Allen noticed he donned a light pink shirt, fitted with black suspenders and slacks, a far cry from the more casual attire he usually wore.