Xeries Episode 4: The Party

 

Bow tie? Check

Vest? Check

Cuff links? Check. Wait, since when do I have cuff links? And they’re so nice! Oh yeah, they’re supposed to be the present! But they look so good with this shirt…he’ll never notice I didn’t get him a present. Besides, I’m sure I’ve solved a case or two for him before…

Uh-oh, it’s 5:43, the party starts at 6:00, it takes 15 minutes to get there…yeah, I’ll be fine.

I hop in my car, pull out of my driveway, and flip on the radio. Some radio news anchor is talking about another heist downtown that happened yesterday. “…authorities are saying this job was done by the same crime ring that has hit 5 other banks in the county. Their leader has been titled the “Silent Siren,” because they never trip an alarm, and the only men apprehended have referred to their boss as being a female, though no details were given, and all 3 men were diagnosed clinically insane and committed to the Xangan Asylum.” Hmmm, interesting. I’d like to hear about those other robberies. I’ll have to research some more when I get home.

Well, apparently I haven’t been to the Mayor’s house in a while, and it’s further away then I thought, since it took about half an hour to get there. But better late then never. I pull into the Mayor’s mansion, step out, and toss my keys to the valet. I walk through the open doors and find myself in the impressive abode of Xanga’s mayor. Everyone is gathered in the main hall, a gigantic room with a massive skylight for a ceiling, and a beautiful chandelier hanging halfway between the floor and the roof. Just about the whole town is here. I think businesses were closed today and everything. There’s a live orchestra playing, a couple of buffet tables set up, and a huge object covered by a tarp on stage. In the center of the room is a big statue of the Mayor that I recognize (except for the head) as Ringo’s duct tape masterpiece. He is standing nearby, basking in the attention. He deserves it; he did a great job. Someone else who catches my eye is Aleksa Ivanov. She’s buzzing around making sure all is in order, I’m sure. I think she was the head planner for all of this.

“Hey, Tigah!” a voice behind me says. I turn around and see my friend Sim, holding two glasses of something. He offers me one and I take it. Ah, it’s grape juice. Classy.

“So, I see you’ve arrived fashionably late,” he comments.

“Yeah, traffic, you know how it is,” I reply lamely.

“True. Nice cuff links.”

“Oh, thanks. I got them as a present for, er, me. I figured I deserved something nice.”

“Yeah, you’ve been pretty busy lately. Speaking of presents, what did you bring for the mayor?” Uh-oh.

“Well-” just then, the music stops, and someone taps on the microphone. (Whew, saved from having to answer that question!) We turn our heads to see the orchestra director. “Ladies and gentleman, thank you for attending our wonderful Mayor’s birthday celebration. To start off tonight’s program, Xanga’s finest vocal professional, Ms. Kami.” As Kami serenades us, I pick my way to the buffet line and grab a few of those tiny finger sandwiches. How come these shindigs never have steaks or ribs? As I pick my way along the table, I see another friendly face at the end. “Hey, Celegaude, enjoying the party?” He turns and nods, then opens his mouth to reply, when suddenly, the music changes and Kami begins singing “Happy Birthday.” We all take our cue and join in as the Mayor makes his way to the stage. When the song ends, he steps up to the mic and begins his speech.

“Thank you so much, all of you. Welcome to my house, and thank you for helping me celebrate another wonderful year of life! A special thanks to Ms. Aleksa Ivanov for heading this up for me.” As the crowd begins applauding, I glance around and notice Ms. Ivanov is nowhere to be seen. Bathroom break, probably. The speed she was walking earlier certainly made it look like she had to go. When the applause died down, the mayor picks up his speech again. I half listen, and half survey the crowd. I notice another familiar face not too far and wave. Nani waves back, then turns her attention back to the stage. I, too, face forward and realize I missed something. Now Gerilynn, the orchestra director, and some other lady are on stage by the huge tarp-covered object. The director steps up to the mic and announces, “And now for the unveiling of the Mayor’s present.” The orchestra starts and drum-roll, and Gerilynn and the other lady unveil a beautiful, but older-looking car. I remember Gerilynn telling me she was working on rebuilding the Mayor’s first car, but this looked nothing like the old, beat-up jalopy she’s had in her garage the past few weeks. “Mr. Mayor, some members of the city council did some extensive searching and found your first car, and thanks to Ms. Gerilynn, it is now as good as new!” Again, the crowd breaks into applause as the mayor inspects his new vehicle with a look of joy on his face. After the room calms down, the Mayor again steps to the mic. “Thank you so much, all who had a part in making this happen. I’m not sure how to-SCREEEEEEEEEECCHH!!!!!!”

The sound system starts acting up, creating a piercing sound and causing all the guests to cover their ears. After a few seconds, it stops, and a new voice booms over the speakers, slightly familiar, and definitely female. “You know, I’m told that’s kind of what an alarm sounds like, but I wouldn’t know, I’ve never set one off! Ha ha ha!” the voice laughs at her own joke, although no one in the main hall gets it. Then, a tremendous crash sounds, and the ceiling rains down glass. I glance up to see a figure flying through the air, landing gracefully on the chandelier. Then, it gives way, and with a loud clanging, it rapidly descends into the center of the room, stopping just shy of the duct-tape Mayor. The female, wearing some type of black jump suit and a mask that hides her face, except for her red lips, leaps from the chandelier onto the floor. She is quickly surrounded by a dozen men, all wearing similar clothes. A wireless mic is attached to the left side of her face, and she speaks as she trots up to the stage. “Happy birthday, Mr. Mayor. I didn’t receive an invitation, but I thought I’d drop by anyway. Aha ha ha!” Again, she cackles at her own joke. Then she leaps onto the stage, which is now empty, save the mayor and his gift. “Who are you?” The Mayor demands.

“Why, how rude of me! I didn’t even introduce myself. I am the Silent Siren, and if all of you don’t hand all of your cash and valuables to one of my associates, you will not live to celebrate another birthday again!”

To be continued…

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Detective Aaron Tigah……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….Like_A_Tigah

Ringo………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………#ringothepirate

Aleksa Ivanov……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….#cestovatelka

Sim…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….#simbathe2nd

Kami…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….#x3style

Celegaude……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………#galbsadi

Nani………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………#queen-of-you188

Gerilynn…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………#broknheartshurt

 

 

“I’m not afraid of the dark; it’s what’s in it that I’m afraid of.”

 

The shadows creep, ever so slowly, up my wall. As the grow closer, I slink deeper in my covers, further from the dark room, closer to the comfort my bed promised. But it was a false promise, for I felt just as scared with my head beneath my blanket as I did above it. So I just laid there, praying sleep would take me before the darkness would.

This was the battle I faced most nights of my childhood. In our upstairs, there were two bedrooms: the big one, and the small one. The small one was closest to the stairs, cooler at night, and best of all, the safest. The eldest always occupied it, until they moved out. Then, the next in line inherited it. Being the youngest of five, it was a while before I would have my turn sleeping without fear. The other room, the big room, was the room I got. In the wall opposite the door was a window over-looking the busy street out front. A streetlight shone through it at night, adding to the shadows. A small closet was off to the right of the door. Now that I’m older, it doesn’t seem so big. But then, it was large and intimidating. When I was really young, I shared it with my two older brothers. But the second youngest, Jordan, had to move to facility in a nearby town due to his mental illness. So Justin and I shared the room. It wasn’t so bad with both of us in the room. Although during the day, he was the worst brother in all the world, at night, it was like nothing ever happened. We knew we needed each other. To be safe. To survive.

We’d try to tell my parents about it. But you know adults: they just roll their eyes, and blame it on bad movies or too much junk food. But my mom had never slept up there; there’s no way she could’ve known. My dad had taken naps up there, and when Jordan came home for a weekend, sometimes my dad would sleep upstairs to keep Jordan from having nightmares. My dad could’ve known; but maybe being an adult keeps you from seeing certain things. Maybe he understood something was wrong, but could quite comprehend what.

I don’t remember when my oldest sibling, Charity, lived at home. The one who had the small room most of my childhood was the second oldest, Beth. Sometimes, she’d let me stay in her room with her. She understood. She remembered what it was like living in the big room. But I’ll never forget the night both Justin and Beth would be gone, and I would be forced to sleep in the big room all alone. Beth sat me down on my bed just before she left. I expected a pep talk, telling me not to be scared, that it all really was my imagination. She said, “Aaron, we all know something is in this room. But it didn’t get Charity, it didn’t get me, it hasn’t gotten Justin, it hasn’t gotten Jordan, and it probably won’t get you.” Then she left. Not the comforting words I expected. I think I ended up sleeping on the couch in our living room that night.

Then the day came when Beth moved out. I tried so hard to get her room, telling Justin it was too small for him, telling my parents he didn’t deserve it for being mean, and I did deserve it for doing well in school. But it was all to no avail. I was left alone in the big room. But I was smart. I invented a few rules to help me not be so scared. Rule 1: always close the door. Normally, people sleep with the door open. But not there. Leaving the door open allowed more darkness to seep in. Rule 2: Always, always, ALWAYS cover up. There was something comforting about having a layer over you. Sealing you in bed, so nothing could take you from it. If a foot was left uncovered, there was an instant feeling of panic, lie if you didn’t cover it up, something would grab it and drag you away. Rule 3: always sleep with noise. A fan, a radio, anything. Silence messes with the mind. I always tied a long piece of string to the pull cord that operated the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. That way, I didn’t have to stand up to click off the light, then rush into bed before the darkness could get to me. I just climb in bed, pull the cord, then roll over, back towards the advancing shadows.

With these rules, and some smarts, I survived the nights spent in the big room. The day finally came when I inherited the small room, and I slept in peace, for the most part. I still follow my rules. And there are still times I look down the hallway at the old room, and wonder if it really was my imagination. About that time, I’ll see something stir, or a shadow grow, and it’ll remind me of what it was like.

To this day, I believe, like my sister said, there is something up there. Something that shouldn’t be. I don’t know what, but it’s there. I’m not sure why it didn’t take us, or if it didn’t want to. Maybe it’s sole purpose was to scare us, and that was it. Or maybe, we just all played it smart. Whatever it is, when people ask if I’ve ever been afraid of the dark, I don’t give that snide answer, “No, I’m not afraid of the dark; it’s what’s in it that I’m afraid of.”

When someone asks me if I’m afraid of the dark, I say “Yes, and all that’s in it, too.”

If you’re smart, you would be, too.