Excerpt from Warlock Angel by Sharon young Bishop©2008-2010
( Preface:
It is amazingly funny how the living and the dead so often come together, yet the living don't even know it)
I suppose the funeral direct thought he was doing us a favor, by having the car all cold with air, before we go inside. But to me, it was uncomfortable, and simply added to the stress, that this day was already producing in my mind. Not to mention the stress William was feeling at this very moment in time. And no doubt, it would continue, as this was only the beginning, of what would surely prove to be, one of the longest days of our lives.
Leading right up to the front sidewalk, to the doorway of the house were three limos from the funeral home. They took up all of the breezeway, then more cars filled the front driveway. I wanted to drive my own car, and be somewhere in the background of all this attention, but William insisted that I ride in the limo with him.
I was surprised to see so many people gathered at the house. I expected them to meet us at the church, but I guess they wanted to ride along with us, which was nice. This, of course, made William feel pretty good about insisting that a funeral take place, instead of just a memorial service. Belinda's mother had argued that no one would come anyway, and she did not have the money to waste, on a full fledged funeral service.
Didn't have the money to
waste? How could she,... how could she be so unkind, and towards her own daughter after all! What kind of mother would say such a thing about her only child? The kind that did not give a care I presumed. The kind that gave her only child over to a sister who ran a whore house, I presumed. The kind... well, enough of that.
Stop it Beth, behave yourself today. Practice being nice today, I reminded myself.
Watching Belinda's mother strut to the car in front of us, made my blood boil just a little bit. After all, William had paid for everything, now here she was acting all holier than thou, in a red suit! She was talking loud and cursing at the funeral director about something I could not quite make out. As I stood in the doorway thinking to myself, I continued to critique her look, scanning her body once more.
She is too short and round for such a mini skirt. And that jacket is too tight for her large boobs.
And her skin is way to dark for bright red, she looks ridiculously evil. The devil in a dress, strutting like a peacock, just to put on a show in front of all these people. What a hypocrite, what a disgrace she is to mothers everywhere. And to think, I have to make nice with her all day today, I threw up just a little in my mouth at the thought. Then I glanced around just in time to watch gizmo, William's terrier puppy peeing on the rose bush.
"Come with me Miss," the funeral directer grabbed my arm and quickly escorted me to the limo. William got in behind me, he sat in an uncomfortable way, close, next to me. His long legs crunched up and crossed, making his knees touched my thigh just a bit. The feeling left me staggering with desire. Holding my hand with an utterly strange and puzzled frown on his face, that caused his thick eyebrows to pull to the middle of his forehead. Making his smooth handsome features look overly tired and strained.
I knew he wondered what my thoughts were, so I offered him a token half smile. We did not speak, the car was silent as I turned my head, and gazed out the window. What sense would it make for me to voice my opinion now, when he was already feeling stressed and a bit guilty.
There was no need for me to tell him, how much I detested Belinda's family right now. How wicked and depraved I thought them. No need to ask him, right now, why he insisted on taking care of this whole funeral. Besides, I knew the answers, even if I did not agree with them. It was just, so much in his nature to do the right thing, even if it was over and above the call of duty.
That was just the way William was. It was, in fact, the very reason why I loved him so much. So how could I possibly do, or say anything, that would add more stress, or grief to his heart at this moment. I could not. All I could do right now was endure this,..this most
uncomfortable family issue.
Besides, the silence was speaking louder than any words, ever could.
It was early morning, the grass was soft, frosty wet, and cool, yet the sun was already high in the sky. It was hot and beaming down like a tingled warm ray across my body. It was a bit unusual for the month of March, but felt good against my skin, compared to the cold air that hit my face when I first got into the black limo.
I could hear the rocks bumping over the tires, as we drove slowly down the long rocky road. Every crackle made my flesh crawl with impatience. Wishing, this long ride would soon be over. Wishing, this long day would soon be over.
After what seemed like an eternity, William looked calmer, his beautiful masculine body relaxed, still close to me. He placed his arm around my neck, and with his long slender fingers, began to gently stroke my shoulder. I made myself ignore his touch, even though it sent chills of desire throughout my entire body.
Trying to focus, and resist my urge to rest my head on his chest, I opened the book on my lap. I allowed myself to relax, and take in this pleasant moment of silence. Kind of like, the quiet before the storm.
The Toxic waste of my soul
has turned green,
from the envy of those thought to be friends.
While riches rain down on me
like a summer shower,
and spring flowers flow,
with the spellbound fragrance
under my blistering nose.
The tears of life run down
like salt of the ocean,
covering my being
in warm arrays of wetness.
They help me remember.
Crushed from within,
I bleed the purest red, and sleep the
death of ages passed, in mummy cloth,
and dust filled tombs draped in black.
I arise, and shine with radiant splendor,
and wisdom covers my head like
the sand of seas, and blinders
removed from my mind.
At my awakening,
Walking out I face the dawning of
grace and glory of a new day.
Seized with years of truth,
I fear no more the
coming times of season.
Colors have new meaning.
I embrace the moments and ride
the knowledge of Generals,
like a racing horse,
pressing for the finish line.
Freely, I explore the view of my destiny.
Fearlessly I charge forth
in great expectation.
I engage to become one with
understanding eyes.
The chapel bells could be heard ringing for miles away, they chimed a continual tune of peaceful hymns. It reminded me of a movie I had once seen, as the cars paraded in uniform order.
I lifted my head from my book of soothing poetry, as the limo door quickly swung open.
"Step out Please," the man from the funeral home spoke soft, yet firm as he shoved a program in my hand, he then moved like a dance to the car behind us.
William got out on the opposite side of the car, and now he was standing behind the funeral director, looking annoyed with him, for opening my door at all. William was always totally concerned, and a bit worried about my feelings, especially today. He was waiting for me, as I laid my book down on the seat, scooted to the edge of the sidewalk, preparing to step out into the bright sunlight of the day.
I stood on the rocky side walk, careful of my four inch heels, that made my five foot frame look lean and taller, next to his tall masculine body.
William's six feet, two inch fame over shadowed me as we walked. His crew cut, of sensually beautiful waves, glistened in the sunlight, and complimented his precision cut side burns. His lips looked so sweet surrounded by his thin tapered beard.
Every bit the look of a man in his early twenties, his chocolate brown skin was smooth as a baby's behind, not a wrinkle in site. If you did not ask, you would not know he was forty one. But I guess if I only aged... or if I was... well lets just say, I sometimes envied William.
"Beth..dearest..How are you doing? Tell me, you are O.K. with this, right?" William's smooth silky voice, gave me pleasing goose bumps, as he held my hand and helped me down the sidewalk.
I stopped for a minute and slowly rubbed my fingers against his cheek trying to console him, as I looked into his beautiful brown eyes with a smile. "Oh William, don't worry about me sweetie, I am fine with this, I am here for you love."
My mind was racing back to my childhood as I remembered how wonderful my parents had been, and how much they had loved me. It was an unselfish love, they always put my feelings first.
I wanted to share that kind of love with William, especially today.
I remembered all the valuable lessons of time that my parents had taught me. I realized that they had given me, the complete balance as a child, that I needed to become the woman I was. A strong woman, a confident woman. A independent woman. At that very moment my heart was grateful. I did not feel intimidated by this situation anymore, nor did I need anyone to validate me. Now I had William in my life, I felt complete. I felt so blessed and so thankful.
The funeral director was quick and thorough, I could hear the organ playing inside the church. The small line was formed and ready to move, yet we stood still. As we waited for the processional to begin, I looked down at the program and read the poem on the back...
"Don't Cry For Me"
If I should be called away to leave this place
Don't cry for me, walk tall with a smile upon your face
For I am on the other side of time and heavenly grace
I have done my best to make the world more kind and I have finished this race
But take this precious moment to think of your very self today
And what you need to do with the rest of your life, what more price you have to pay
Where can you lead a hand and find something kind to say,
Help a dying world find some peace, a new road, a new desire, a new way
Focus on what wondrous deeds you can bestore on heads of children great and small.
Who can you hold up and carry through, find someone to catch before they fall.
Will you be there waiting by the phone, when that friend in need makes a call?
Can you pick up the pieces of that broken little heart?
Do you know just the right thing to say when life has torn them all apart?
Will you yourself be able to withstand life's evil fiery darts?
So if I should leave this place before you think it's my time,
Don't waste one moment feeling sorry for me, or solutions trying to find.
But look for your destiny, your place, your purpose in life divine.
For life is way to short to spend wondering why you never found away,
To help someone make it through a hard day.
To get down on your knees and unselfishly begin to pray.
Or wonder why I had to go, and if I could, would I want to stay.
I don't think so,
but I do know,
I won't worry about if I am missed,
and on the other side,
that there has to be something better than this.
Hum.. that's not the poem I requested, but it is beautiful, and expressive, so it will do. I thought to myself as the line began to move.
The church was half empty, yet it did not seem to matter. Everyone who needed to be there were there already. As we passed the casket and prepared to take our seat on the front row, I looked at all the beautiful flowers. There were only seven flowers, including the one on top of the casket, which William and I had bought. But they were all very beautiful.
Belinda's mother and her grandmother both stopped in front of the casket together, and viewed her body. Her grand mother leaned down, to kiss her still cold face, while her mother ran her hand against the grain of the casket, as if she was inspecting it for quality or something. William picked, and bought, that casket so I know it is of the best quality, I reminded myself as I wondered why she was inspecting it. As I passed the casket, I glanced at Belinda, I admired her burgundy suit, and how well she looked. I noticed the makeup the funeral home had used on her was way too dark for her complexion. Yet, I guess it did not matter anymore, she looked pretty good, for a dead woman.
As we sat down, the woman behind William was now leaning over the casket, and crying loud and out of control. William put his arms around her, and helped her to the seat next to him. "The Villainous Aunt," he whispered. Then I realized she was the aunt, who had raised Belinda when she was a child. Funny she would be the one howling uncontrollably now.
The same aunt who once told William, she would sale him information, to help put Belinda in a mental institution. The same aunt who had buried Belinda alive in a shallow grave as a game. The same aunt who had encouraged Belinda, to do unthinkable things in life.
I allowed my mind to imagine what Belinda's life must have truly been like. From all the things William had told me, And from all I had witnessed on my own, I now realized what had driven Belinda to be the woman she was. I could only imagine what life as a child was like for her. A never ending hell, she had once called it.
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"Oh child come on now, don't fret yo'self too much. God knows that we all can't be pure as the driven snow. He knows some of us have to work hard for the money. Now get yourself in there and put that new dress on I bought ya, comb your hair down good and put on some of my good perfume. Then get your lil' ass up them stairs to room seven for Mr. Joehanon."
Belinda 's aunt, an irascible middle aged woman, spoke softly but firmly, waving her arms as a performance of every word, and they flapped like little fat angel wings. Belinda could hear her aunt's thighs rubbing against her stockings and watched as her hips almost touched the walls on either side as she strutted down the hallway and disappeared into darkness of the parlor.
The house was filled with noises and moans and groans. There were soft red lights glowing all the way down the long hallway to the front parlor. Fancy wallpaper lined the walls right up to each door frame along the hallway.There were bedrooms lining on each side. Each room had a big red door with a silver number on it.
There was sexy laughter, funny smells, wine and food, and men running in and out at all hours of the night. Belinda was use to that. What she could not get use to was the smell of her aunt's perfume. It was a loud odor that made her sick to her stomach and light headed, it reminded her of men with cold rough hands touching her body, it reminded her of men with stinky sticky beards kissing her young tender lips, it reminded her of men laughing with excitement and blowing hot boozy breath on her. It simply reminded her of men.
But she had to wear it, because her aunties said so, and because it was the only perfume in the house, every one of her aunties wore that perfume, the house was full of it. A big old squeaky house with high ceilings and concrete walls. With a big rap around porch, that ran from one end of the yard to the other. A grand old place actually, but not very pleasant to Belinda's memory. The house was always full of people, mostly men, strange men that Belinda was told to call "Uncles"
And full of aunties. Well actually they were women who worked for her real auntie, and she was told to call them all auntie. But they were her family. The only family she ever knew. Her mother was young and she was around from time to time, but mostly she was gone. Belinda never really questioned where her mother was going each time she left her, but she did feel a new sadness each time her mother left her. But over all, the other women, and her aunt took pretty good care of her. As well as could be expected from a bunch of whores. Trying to make a living the only way they knew how.
Belinda sat down at the dressing table, with the small lamp burning a light against the mirror. She explored her face as she began to comb her hair, and watched as the tears ran down her tiny swollen cheeks.
I'm only twelve she thought to herself, as she began to focus on her life. She remembered the day her mother dropped her off at this house, and left her there.
She often wonderful what she had done to deserve such a fate.
Then she remembered the first time, one of those men, touched her, and how dirty she felt. How dirty she always felt. Belinda let her mind go to a more pleasant place. The one place she always looked forward to. It was the only place she could escape her reality. She remembered what the preacher had said on Sunday.
"Children are impressionable and childhood really is the molding of a person. So be careful what you say or do to, and with a child."
Those words stuck with Belinda in a strange way. They seemed to help her understand how to overcome her present situation, how to fully use her mind to control her destiny from within.
Belinda continued to comb her hair as the tears rolled down her puffy little face. Her heart was broken. Her impression of herself was already useless and sad. She constantly wished for her own death, and even imagined herself in the caskets at most funerals. Her world was dark and cold. One where money meant more than love, or God, or even being a human being.
But, because of what the preacher had said, Belinda began to spark herself with positive thoughts, and affirmations, that she learned at church. She sat up as straight as she could, and slowly leaned into the mirror, as if she was looking at another person. She looked herself straight in the eyes, and gazed into her very soul. Then she took a deep breath, placed both hands on the mirror and touched herself.
"I can't wait til I grow up and get out of here. I am going to move far, far away and never look back. I am going to school and learn all I can. I'm going to become a lawyer and make lots of money, and I ain't never coming back here! I will not let this place break me, I will learn from it and I will grow stronger because of it." Belinda spoke forcefully, and loudly to herself in the mirror.
"Girl what you doing, and what's taking you so long to get up them stairs?"
"Nothing auntie, I'm going, I'm going right now." Belinda ran as she spoke and disappeared up the stairs, into the darkness as her aunt watched from the doorway of her bedroom....
End of the day
Belinda walked slowly down the long dark hallway to the back door. She stood there for a moment in silence, watching her aunt through the glass door. Her palms began to drip small drops of sweat, her knees started to shake, she watched in complete fear
as her aunt was humming a strange tune as she dug the hole.
"BELINDA GET OUT HERE GIRL," her aunt yelled.
Belinda jumped a strong jerk, her beet red face, flushed with tears, and gripped with fear. She slowly opened the back door, and stepped outside.
She watched her crazed aunt barefoot and straddling the shallow grave, with the shovel in her hands. Her arms flapping in the air as she moved, frantically digging, carefully throwing dirt in a neat pile beside the hole. Huffing and puffing and gasping for air, sweat pouring from her full round, puffy face, as she continued to dig.
She stopped for a moment, holding the shovel in one hand, and wiping the other hand onto her flowery sun dress, now covered with red clay dirt. Her long black hair looked matted on top of her head. She pushed it back from her face, wiping her brow with the back of her thick, puffy, dirt filled hand.
The shallow grave was not a stranger, it had been dug out many times before. It was like another bed to Belinda. Another bed of mental torture. The story of her life. Belinda looked down at the dust dark ground. She slowly wiped the tears from her face, reached down, and took the temperature, it was warm and moist. She watched as a mountain of ants fed on the ground surrounding the hole.
"Get in there and lay down,"
"No auntie, please don't!"
"Girl get your ass down in that hole right now, before I beat ya' down in it!"
Belinda slowly stepped down into the shallow grave and laid down as she gripped her stomach to try and stop the fear pains. Her aunt began to slowly cover her with dirt. She was once again being buried alive.
Belinda covered her nose and mouth, trying to breath as her aunt continued to cover her with dirt. It stung her skin as the dirt touched down. Every shovel full was heavier than the last. Her legs felt like rubber now. Warm and covered with dirt. Then her aunt slowly moved up closer to her face and began throwing the dirt over her chest and stomach. Belinda tried not to cry out loud, she tried to preserve all her strength for breathing.
She tried to calm herself, she tried to find the humor in this sick, abusive act. It was the only way she could endure it, so she focused all her attention on trying to laugh at her aunt. But it was hard to laugh, when your small body was being covered, and smothered with dirt. All she could really think about was trying to breath, trying to stay alive until it was over.
This was an on going 'game' her aunt liked to play, whenever Belinda would not obey her every command of the day. She waited until the end of the day, just as the sun went down, and the sick ritual began.
She finally covered Belinda with dirt, from her neck down to her toes, careful not to cover her face. Careful not to totally smother her. Belinda was terrified every time. Even though the dirt did not fully cover her face, or block her breathing, it felt like it did.
Belinda's aunt stood over her buried body, hair hanging long, dirt on her face, looking like a giant witch with the shovel in her hand.
"Ha!, Now you just lay there for a while Missy and think about what you did today."
Belinda looked up at her with fear and dismay, she did not speak for fear it would anger the aunt to cover her with more dirt. She laid perfectly still just breathing and trying to calm herself.
Belinda never knew when the day would come that her aunt would actually finish the job, and cover her entire body in the shallow grave, like she always promised...
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As the loud music from the organ filled my ears and brought my mind back to the present moment, I sat with her head down, remembering Belinda's story as William had told it to me. Now I understood what life must have been like for her. The program was short, and quicker than I thought possible. Everyone seemed to dancing through their part with ease. The day seemed to float by with more ease than I expected.
And now as the limo pulled slowly around and made a complete stop, the funeral director once again opened the door, and the uncommon smell hit my noise at once. I took in a big whiff without thought, I knew exactly what it was. I stepped out in front of a prepared grave site. The air was brisk and cold, as was the company that surrounded me in the distance. I took a quick glance around just to be sure, and their she was sitting on a tomb stone, legs crossed and a big ass smile on her face. Belinda, I thought to myself. She waved at me when she heard her name, but I did not wave back.
Tony stood behind her with both hands in his pockets. He smiled, but he didn't wave. The grave yard was full. I didn't see everybody, but then...I didn't want to, for fear I might bust out crying at any moment. I tried to keep my focus on the living... On the real things around me.
The flowers were being brought down from the funeral car as a small crowd of people began to gather around the grave site. How strange it seemed that William and I would be the ones here in front like this after all we had already endured with Belinda .Yet I felt it was only right for us to be there to do what was right and humane. Besides,it had not been our choice, it was ultimately Belinda's last request.
In the far corner of the grave tent all dressed in black stood Belinda's closest friends Troy, Gretta and Denise. They wore fur coats with matching hats and diamonds flashing in the midday sun. Whispering among themselves as they looked on in astonishment. Mostly looking down their stuck up noses and very pleased with themselves inspire of the fact that their closest friend was being laid to rest in a gravel grave. It was a bit surreal and yet all too true to be denied, like something out of a dream. A secret that she had kept from them until the very end. Now huddled around one another they began to share their thoughts.
"Oh Troy,Who would have thought this would ever be, and for William to take care of everything, what an amazing man he is."
"Yes Gretta I agree, I have never seen anything like this before."Troy said as she pulled her coat closer to her body.
"I think Beth's brother is buried here too, you know all this started with him." Gretta looked around trying to spot Tony's grave as she spoke.
"Over here," Tony shouted, waving his hands in the air and teasing Belinda with a dance as they continued in the distance.
"Well actually, if the truth be told, Belinda started all this herself just like always. It's just hard to grip the reality of it all. It seems like--like a dream. I keep thinking I am gonna see her walk up behind us any minute now and start fussing and cursing about how things are not going her way. Then I realize that's not gonna happen." Denise lifted her head up to the sun and dappled her face with a tissue.
"Yea, I wonder what she must be thinking now, If we could turn back the hands of time, I wonder if she would do things differently."Troy sniffed as she rubbed her nose with a black handkerchief.
"Knowing Belinda and the way she is...was. She would not change a thing. I remember the day we met, she was a bitch from the start, but something about her just drew me closer to her. She always knew exactly what she wanted in life, and she didn't stop until she got it." Denise hugged Gretta and placed her head on her shoulder as they all walked closer to the grave site.
Belinda and Tony laughed as if the conversation amused them. Then they slowly walked away and out of sight taking everyone who came and the uncommon smell with them. I did not realize how strong that smell was until they left. It was like my nose had been stopped up and now it was open again. I took a deep breath of fresh air. William knowing exactly what had happened, glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and gently rubbed my hand...
We were seated with Belinda's Mother and Grandmother on the front row.The rest of her family followed in the rows behind them. As the preacher gave the last rights and placed a long stemmed white rose on the casket he read the poem I had provided..
"Bring Flowers if you Can
With hands crossed against one's chest, inside time's box of blood and tears,
Just remember how we used to be, and all the wonder years.
To see your face with that smile so bright and fair,
A rose of cheeks burst out with hugs, that show how much you care.
Crying all too deeply as constant pain burns within one's soul.
I remember vows of love and life, and a promise to have and hold.
Now I am telling everyone to come and bring flowers if you can,
With precious thoughts, and pure embrace of yesterday,
for my tomorrow has no plan.
A part of you had to go and now we are free, to fly and sore away.
But my never ending thoughts of you will pierce my being
throughout each passing day.
Bring flowers if you can and put them on my grave.
For the heart is broken and the touch is gone,
'twas me, I could not save.
To die a little every day and try to find the path,
I find myself in deeper thought, of will this feeling last.
I need to break out of this changing shell and become the butterfly within,
so write it down I must, it seems, with open book, my quill rid pen."
As he continued reading the words I folded my arms across my lap and began to think back on the past and how it had all unfolded to this very day.
word count:5325
Copyrights©
All these publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are my personal property and I am their respective owners. The original characters and plot are my property and I am the author. Any republication of this material will be a total infringement of my copyright.
Sharon Young Bishop©2008-2010
