The fibers of the thick gaudy rug filled his nostrils with the familiar smell of his father’s imported pipe tobacco. He looked at his father’s study upside-down and wondered if he would ever read all of those brilliant leather bound books that line the shelves. Moby Dick, Dracula, Journey to the Centre of the Earth-other worlds silently collecting dust in the plain-old-real-world. He heard footsteps creaking down the long hallway and he hid behind the curtains which too were dripping in his father’s redolence.
“No, no!“ came his father’s booming voice.
“But sire-“ trembled a much less confident voice.
“...and no!” father retorted. “I have been far more than kind to you William!”
“But that’s what I came here to talk to you about!” his shaky voice became a little less so. Father cleared his throat as they came into view. The boy tried his best to imitate the plum-colored drapery.
“Listen William, I have no more pennies to give, I’ve already sold off- Lord knows how many parcels of land- and for what? A few cold rats?” he rubbed his fingers on his brow.
“But sire, if I just had a little more money-“
“For what?! Unless you can go door-to-door selling frozen rats, I don’t see how we’re going to get anywhere.” Father snickered. It was an oddly serious laugh for the old man.
“Nay sire! I’ve actually brought one back!”
“Oh for heaven’s sake! You didn’t have to bring it back, William! I don’t want it!”
“No, no, I mean I’ve brought one back from, well, you know!” the doctor, now in view, seemed to continue jiggling even after he had stopped speaking.
“You don’t mean?” Father spoke rather solemnly now.
“I do!” the man giggled and involuntarily gobbled. His round face changed shape whilst he did. The two gentlemen clasped hands at such a thought.
“So why do you need more money then?”
“Well, sire, the procedure left the specimen a little worse for wear…”
“How much worse for wear?” his father looked much more pallid than usual.
“Not much, just a bit, oh what’s the term...mentally delayed? Hardly anything that a few more pennies couldn’t solve!” he held out his chubby nubs. The boy was certain they must have been fingers at one time. Father paused for some time. He rubbed his fingers against his temple.
“Fine. But I better not regret this, William.”
“You won’t sire, you won’t! Listen, I’ll sweeten the pot for you. I’ll give you and your family priority.”
“And what of Cora? Lord knows Junior loves that woman.”
“Yes, yes, hell I’ll even throw in that bastard son of hers! Do we have a deal?” his lips quivered and he pushed his slimy hair back. The two men shook hands and the man called William pulled out a document for them both to sign. Father signed the man a check and the two continued their discussion as they walked back out into the hallway.
“What has father signed us up for now?” he whispered as he let out a sigh. His father was always making deals with eccentric types. The boy sat at his father’s large wooden desk and took a turn spinning around in the armchair. After he came back around his eyes adjusted and he noticed that the doctor had left something there on the desk. It looked like a photograph. The boy cleared the papers and clutter from it and gazed at it for a few moments before his stomach began to turn.
It was a dead rat. Not just that- but a dead rat in a glass container. It looked like it had lost most of its fur. The boy was simply incredulous. What would the use of that be? He started to spin in the armchair once more, but this time with the picture grasped between his fingers as he turned. Then he heard footsteps down the hall again. He panicked and stopped the chair, knocking his foot on its leg and trying to hide the photograph inside his pants pocket. He jumped out of the chair and dashed for the curtains again, but it was of no use- he had been seen.
“Junior, you know you ain’t supposed to be in here!” called the woman clad in black. It was Cora, their only house servant. They could only afford one these days. “What would your Father say?” He did care what his father thought, be he cared a lot more about what Cora thought. He hated to disappoint her.
“I was just-“
“I don’t care what you were just, let’s go, you’ve got dinner tonight with the Beaumonts.”
“But I don’t wanna go to the Beaumonts!” he folded his arms across his chest.
“I don’t care what you want. Now go get changed and stay out of your father’s study!” she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room.
He ascended the long narrow stairway up to his room. The little portholes dotted the wall as he climbed, giving glimpses of their estate. Massive wooden skeletons were looming on the horizon, waiting to be wrapped in flesh. He often wondered what his grandfather would say to them if he knew that they had sold off most of their land. It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to work the land. Cotton used to shoot up as far as the eye could see. Demand had never been higher and their family had worked to build up their plantation to be one of the best producing ones in all of New Orleans.
They also used to house a great amount of slaves. The old slave houses could still be seen on the edge of the old plantation, dilapidated and flooded. After the slaves left, the crops stopped growing nearly as well. The land had become rocky and barren and the land would no longer yield to them. Father said it was God’s punishment for keeping slaves. The boy didn’t know what to think of that. He couldn’t imagine having slaves.
Core was paid for her work, but she was not always so respected. Nobody respected Cora like Junior did. She was like a mother to him. His earliest memories were with Cora. Deep down the boy knew that if Cora and his mother died on the same day, he would really be crying for Cora. He tried to push morbid thoughts like that out of his head.
He reached the top of the stairs. There were three doors at the landing. One to his bedroom, another to his sister’s bedroom and the other to the washroom. He pushed the door back into his room and grabbed his Sunday best, even though it was Friday. His mother had said that the Beaumonts were a wealthy family. He should try to marry their eldest daughter – Gwendolin. He didn’t much like her though.
He deftly buttoned his top-most button and he readied his neck for Cora’s guiding hand. He couldn’t tie his own tie. It was much too difficult. He pulled out a beautiful silver and white striped necktie that his father had given him. He didn’t mind dressing up.
“Junior are you dressed yet?” came Cora’s familiar voice racing her up the stairs.
“Yes! I just need help with my tie.”
“I know you do, dear. I bet you’ll be fifty-years-old and old Cora will still be tying your neckties.” She smiled as she straightened out his shoulders. “There!” she placed her hands in her lap. “You look very handsome”.
“How old are boys when they normally tie their own neckties?” he whispered out of the side of his mouth.
“That’s just it! No man ties his own necktie- his wife can tie it for him.” She laughed at the thought. The boy thought about it for a second and returned with another question. “Will I ever have a wife?” he seemed to ask his shiny patent leather shoes. Cora grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him square in the eyes.
“Of course you will! Why, that Wendy girl of the Beaumont’s seems to be rather taken with you.”
“But I’m not much taken with her.”
“That don’t matter much. Your parents will find the girl for you to marry, they’ll strike the deal, and you’ll have a wife! It’s just that simple. I wouldn’t worry so much about it.” She took him and embraced him. That made him feel slightly better. She grabbed his clothes from the bed and out of the pocket fell the picture he had taken from his father’s study. “What’s this?” she picked it up, her tan face turning pale.
“I found it in father’s study.” He remembered the searing pain of hitting his leg on the table.
“This ain’t yours to be looking at, I’ll return it to your father’s study-“she paused as she tried to figure out what it was. “why’s your father got a picture of...?” she looked up and her eyes seemed to pierce his own.
“I heard him talking to that doctor earlier-“
“You were listening to their conversation?” her lips pursed.
“Yes, but-“
“You know better than that!” she placed a hand on her hip and he went silent. She was right. “You know better than…” her voice trailed off. “Why’d you take this?”
“I wanted to show mother. That man is robbing Father blind.”
“You gotta respect your father, Junior. A man can have his own private affairs. But-“she continued to eye the picture, her face contorting as she did. “What was they talking about?” her tone had softened.
“Something about bringing rats back from somewhere, I-“
“Necromancy! Ain’t nobody got the right to be interfering with God’s handiwork! Bad things happen when you get wrapped up in black magic. It’s the Devil’s work, Junior! Best to tell your mother and protect this house before this goes any further.”
He had never heard her so upset over something. Obviously Cora had seen this before. It was always wise to heed Cora’s words. She joked that she was over one-hundred-and-fifty-years-old. He wasn’t so sure about that.
When he was little, he had brought home a little curious looking dime. He ran to show it to Cora and she immediately grabbed it from the boy and didn’t say why. She brought it back in the morning and she pulled it out of her pocket. She had put a hole through it and thread it with red cord. She said that it was a silver dime, and that silver dimes are not just lucky, but they can warn you if you have been cursed. If the silver dime ever turns black, then you have been cursed. It still hadn’t turned black, but he always keeps that silver dime with him- if he got cursed he would want to know about it. He kept it around his ankle, just as Cora had told him to do.
So he listened to her words this time. They went to his mother, who was busy looking at herself in the well-lit mirror near her bed. “Ah! Are we all ready for dinner at the Beaumont’s tonight?” she paused as she dabbed her face with a little more setting powder. “I hear Wendy has been talking about you nonstop since we last dined there”. The young boy’s cheeks grew flush.
“Missus- we found something,” Cora pulled the photograph out of her apron.
She studied the photograph and then, in what can only per interpreted as a perplexed frown she squawked, “What is this?”
“Junior found it in his father’s study-“
“You took something from your father’s study?” her eyes became less kind (as unfathomable as that may have been).
“Yes ma’am. Father was talking to-“
“I don’t care what father was talking about, that isn’t the kind of thing a young gentleman does. We don’t steal things from our father’s study and we surely don’t gossip about his personal affairs.” She took the photograph and tossed it in the trash. “Your father is a very busy man, he is not to be disturbed with allegations of this-its and whats-its!” she threw up her arms for dramatic effect. “And you-!” she pointed her dazzling fingers at Cora. “You are supposed to keep an eye on him! What good are you if you can’t even watch a fourteen-year-old boy!” Cora lowered her head with her unbending grace; it was the young boy who grew angry at these words.
“You can’t talk like that to her!” he erupted. His eye brows nearly leapt off his face as he realized what he had done.
“What did you say?” his mother squinted through her blackened lashes.
“I-“ the boy fumbled.
“I can speak to her anyway that I please! I can speak to you however I please, and I will speak however I goddamn well please!” she pounded a fist on the vanity and grabbed the young boy by the back of the neck. “You will go outside, you will go to the carriage, and you will wait for us to leave.”
“But it looks like it might rain, missus-“ Cora interjected.
“It does doesn’t it? Go home, Cora. You’re relieved of your duties until further notice.” She shifted her gaze to the young boy, “just wait until your father hears about this!” she pushed them both out of the door and they both proceeded to get on their coats to leave. Cora was sullen, but dignified as always. Again, it was the young boy who percolated with emotion. Tears began to well in his eyes.
She bent down on one knee and wiped a tear from his eye. “You don’t need to be defending me,” she gave a half-smile; “I’m a big girl. Life is going to throw a lot of sadness your way”. She walked him out to the carriage and he hoisted himself up. “Now you stay there until the family is ready.”
“But when will you be back?” his eyes swollen and red.
“I’ll be back sooner than you think,” she smiled and started walking down the path.
He shut the door to the carriage and slumped down low. He knew that he shouldn’t have talked back to his mother, but who did she think she was? If it wasn’t for Cora they wouldn’t have dinner, the estate would be a mess and nothing would ever get done.
The clouds were starting to turn a deep green. The air was thick with humidity and he was starting to feel uncomfortable in all of his dress clothes.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“What you doing in here already?” came a familiar voice. It was his sister.
“Mother told me to wait in the carriage until we left. She sent Cora home”
“Ooh, she must’ve done something mighty bad for Mama to send her home like that and in the rain too!” she was right, the rain had just started to fall.
“It wasn’t Cora’s fault, it was mine.”
“What’d you do?”
“I was in Dad’s study.”
“Junior-“ she jumped up into the carriage and landed beside him, “you know you ain’t supposed to do that. Why were you in there in the first place? Reading Dad’s books again?” she gave him a gentle nudge.
“Yeah. I overheard dad and-“
“Kids?!” came mother’s shrill voice over the sound of raindrops pattering.
“Ici Mama!” sang the young girl.
“Ah, there you are dears. Did your brother tell you what he did?” the young girl nodded. “Good! Then we musn’t discuss it anymore. Where’s your father? He should be here by now!” she checked her watch and went back into the house.
She was right- it was unlike father to be missing anything. Usually he could be found sitting in his study admiring his book covers. The young boy thought it was strange that his father should have so many books when he never saw him reading anything.
“Is that Dad?” the young girl exclaimed as she hung her long neck out of the carriage. She had seen a small carriage coming over the horizon. The carriage pulled up next to theirs and out came Father, shaking hands with the same doctor from earlier.
“That’s the man I overheard him talking to,” the boy whispered.
“Who is he?”
“He’s some kind of doctor, you know one of those friends.” He said as his sister rolled her eyes. She knew what that meant. It meant more money for more silly experiments and projects and ventures.
“Dad!” she threw open the carriage door and jumped down to meet him.
“That’s my girl! My- Don’t you look beautiful! Spitting image of your mother. Where’s your brother?” He saw him sitting in the carriage just as those very words left his lips. “Ah, there you are. Are you ready for dinner at the Beaumont’s? I hear Wendy will be there!” he touched the young boy’s shoulder as he hopped into the carriage. “Where’s your mother?”
“She’s inside looking for you.” She giggled.
“That sounds about right. We’ll wait here and see how long she takes to figure it out.” He said as he stretched his arms behind his head. He was a tall man with dark black hair and a beard. He was a respectable man, but word began to spread about his eccentric ventures. He pulled his homburg over his eyes and leaned back. He was a good man, the young boy thought. His mother was a good woman too; she was just more self-centered than she should be. She would always be out at fancy soirées and dinner parties. Their father would normally tag along as well, leaving Cora to do most of the parenting. In that moment though, the young boy thought it might not be so bad to grow up to be like his father.
“Have you been in here the whole time?” their mother’s face appeared at the carriage door.
“The whole time,” claimed his father with the largest grin.
“Scoot over then, we’ve wasted enough time. The Beaumonts will be expecting us shortly,” and at those words the carriage began to make its way down the path. He could hear thunder rolling in the distance.
They pulled up to the Beaumont estate and the young boy could see Gwendolyn’s beaming face in the window. He wondered why she cared so much. They were helped out of the carriage and they had hardly knocked on the door before it opened. Gwendolin stood behind it.
“Hi Junior,” she smiled.
“Hi Wendy,” replied the young boy, trying his best to return pleasantries.
“Hello little Wendy, is it okay if we come in? It’s dreadfully wet out here,” came his mother’s sing-song voice as she pushed by the young girl and the rest followed suit. Gwendolin stood in front of the young boy.
“Have you ever read Frankenstein?” her fingers curled her curly black hair.
“Yes, of course, many times. It’s very good,” came the young boy, a little taken-aback by the odd topic.
“Your sister told me you like to read, and...“ she paused and looked him over, “and I thought you might like to talk about it”. She smiled.
“Well yes, I do very much like books. Do you have a favorite book?”
“Mother and I read Woolf’s new novel, Night and Day, have you read it?”
“I haven’t had the chance yet-“he replied with nuanced disdain. He liked adventure, exploration, science, he didn’t have time for Virginia Woolf, he was too busy catching up on Jules Verne. He knew it had been too good to be true. The two continued chatting for a little while longer as the young girl tried to capture his interest, with little headway. The conversation ceased when Mr. Beaumont appeared in the doorway.
“Come, come Wendy, let the young lad through! We wouldn’t want him to catch a cold!” he grabbed her by the shoulders and he lead them into the dining room. The room was brilliantly lit. His mother was surely right; they did have money. Ornate scrollwork donned the doorways and fine china was sitting on display. They took their seats and the meal proceeded.
The conversation was amazingly dull, or at least, the young boy had thought so. Occasionally someone would ask for his opinion on something and he would reply in the most courteous way that he could. The food was delicious though, so he was quite content with that.
Across the table sat Gwendolin who, to his dismay, was still trying to talk to him. He would nod politely or give a half-smile as a gesture of kindness and then continue eating and listening to the adults discuss. His mother and Mrs. Beaumont were talking about the taboo jazz music that was going around, while his father and Mr. Beaumont were busy talking about automobiles.
“Have you thought about getting one of those automobiles? They are amazingly convenient.”
“I’ve surely thought about it, but it seems so frivolous when I have a perfectly good horse and carriage.
“Yes, but this is so much better. I plan on ordering one before the year is out”
The boy tried to focus on dinner and eavesdropping. He thought it amusing when he would try to listen to everybody at once. It sounded like nonsense! But as soon as he focused on one conversation all became clear. He wondered if Cora had made it home alright. There certainly was a storm brewing outside. He didn’t like storms much.
A streak ran across the sky and the following rumble seemed to tear the heavens asunder as the sky turned to a sickly chartreuse. The shutters on the beautiful home began to knock against the window and the horses were making a fuss. The violinist jumped with fright and the music skipped a beat.
“My that’s one hell of a storm!” came Father’s resounding voice.
“I’d say! You all can’t go out in that weather. Dinah- please make up rooms for our guests,” his wrist went limp as he said this and it twisted towards the upstairs. The boy’s eyes met Gwendolin’s- her eyes grew wide at the thought of having him stay the night. A lump grew in his throat and he felt a panic wash over him.
“We can’t stay here,” he tugged on his mother’s dress. She made an awful face and then looked to her husband. He was much more serious about the matter.
“Well Junior, we can’t really go out in that weather, it’s much too dangerous. Do you have room in the stable for our horses? We’ll need...” he walked towards Mr. Beaumont as his voice trailed off.
The servants came to clear off the dinner table as Father and Mr. Beaumont retired to the study to smoke. Junior and his sister went up to Gwendolin’s room. There was a tree painted on the side of her wall and she had a beautiful dresser and pale blue walls. Junior wasn’t really impressed with her toys, but his sister was quite taken with them.
“You have a Raggedy Anne! Oh, she's so pretty!” the girls giggled as they played with her dolls. He went around her room and tried to find anything that interested him. Finally something caught his eye- a glint of gold. The scarlet book cover with the gilded words, The Magic City.
“What’s this,” he involuntary blurted out.
“Oh that old thing? Papa got it for me for my seventh birthday. Do you like it?” she came over to him as he was fingering its pages.
“What’s it about?” his eyes narrowed as he tried to discern its contents.
“Oh something about a boy who builds a city of toys and somehow ends up living in it. It’s a bit odd- would you like to have it?” her lips curled.
“Have it?” he had never seen a more beautiful book. It looked wonderful. But he couldn’t just take this book from her- could he? What if this was her trapper’s snare? “No need!” he said a little louder than he meant, “if we’re to stay here tonight I can read it before morning.” He grinned at his clever wit.
“Surely you jest?” she placed a hand on her hip, “it’s over three-hundred pages!” she laughed and for a single instance, Junior didn’t mind her- something about her laugh and smile. The moment faded almost instantaneously and he loathed her once more.
“Wendy- you don’t know Brother like I- he reads constantly. He means it!” her nose scrunched up. The two girls returned back to the dolls and the boy returned to his newly found treasure.
He began to whisper the tome’s words to himself as he sat down in the corner of the room next to the window.
“Philip Haldane and his sister lived in a little red-roofed house in a little red-roofed town. They had a little garden and a little balcony, and a little stable with a little pony in it—and a little cart for the pony to draw; a little canary hung in a little cage in the little bow-window, and the neat little servant kept everything as bright and clean as a little new pin.”
He paused- Cora. Had she made it alright? The weather was ghastly outside. Then he thought of how he hadn’t heard much thunder since he had sat down to read. He looked out the window and could see blue skies peaking through the verdant clouds. He was saved! The young boy leaped down the steps and burst through the doors to Mr. Beaumont’s study. The two men were sitting in armchairs and straightened up at the sight of him.
“Junior! What on Earth?” the two men looked at the boy and then back to each other and then let out a hearty laugh. “what is it my boy? This is why we need Cora around, to keep you in line!” he chuckled again and clasped his cigarette case shut.
“But Father, Cora-” he paused as he remembered that he had not been told about Cora’s exile from the estate, “Mother sent Cora out into the storm before we left,” his eyes wet. His father stood up.
“She did what? Why would she do a thing like that?”
“Well it was my fault, I was in your study and-”
“Do not fret boy- I’m sure Cora is fine. A little rain never hurt anyone.”
“It looks like the storm is clearing up, can we go find her?” His father glanced back at Mr. Beaumont and then out the window. He nodded and smiled. The boy hugged him.
“Go get your sister and I’ll get your mother.” he shook Mr. Beaumont’s hand and the boy bound back up the stairs to grab his sister.
“We’re going, the storm is clearing up and father said so!” he was beaming at the thought, but he noticed Gwendolin’s face. She looked so sad. She has no brother or sister to play with. He felt a twinge in his chest and then turned to go downstairs as he felt a hand upon his shoulder.
“Please take this,” she handed him the book, “I have no use for it and you may return it when you are done reading it and maybe we shall talk about it?” He knew it had been a trick, but he agreed and thanked her.
The carriage was brought back around. The sky had improved, but there was a dark cloud on the horizon. They jumped up into the carriage and waved goodbye to the Beaumonts. He had hid the book underneath his jacket, but his mother eyed it.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” she grabbed for it, “did you steal this Junior?” her large mouth had somehow opened even wider than usual.
“No Mama, Wendy borrowed it to him.” her eyes met his.
“Well that was certainly nice of her,” her lips pursed together as if she was upset at the fact. They followed along the trail back to the house. Rivers had formed where there was not usually water and the odd leaf could be seen twisting and turning in their miniature malstroms. As they reached the fork in the road the young boy perked up.
“Father, are we going to see Cora?” his eyes flashed to his mother’s as he said this. She looked bewildered.
“Yes, Junior,” the man smiled as his wrinkles dug in a little deeper, “let’s go check on old Cora, make sure she got home safe.” He lifted his head out of the carriage to talk with the driver and then dropped back into his seat.
Cora’s house was not terribly far from their estate, but it was out of the way. It was still raining as they drew near her house and they crossed near the river bank as they saw Cora’s son on the other side of the pond, which was much deeper than usual. As they came around the bend the wind grew stronger and a whistling noise whined through the cabin. The rain picked up once more as they arrived at the top of the hill. Finally he could see Cora’s house as he perched up on the window.
“Get down from there!” his mother shrieked as he was being pelted with raindrops. He didn’t mind as long he got to see if Cora was alright. He tried to see if he could see Cora’s son again, but was unable to in the thick rain.
Crack! A loud crash of thunder cracked like a whipand frightened the horses. As one of the horses reared up on its hind legs, it lost its footing and started tumbling down the side of the hill. The sudden jerking of the carriage pushed the young boy out of the window and he tumbled onto the path below. The carriage continued down the bank and tumbled as it went. The boy ran to the side of the hill and saw that the carriage had rolled into the river. He could see his sister’s hand reaching out of the carriage window in the water and he could hear Cora’s voice coming from the other side of the hill now. He tried to yell back to her for help but he couldn’t make out what she was saying as the weather grew worse.
He started to strip off his clothes. He could see those large horse eyes bobbing in the torrent. They were filled with fear. The swell of the river had pulled one of the horses under the water. He didn’t see his mother but he did see his father floating on his stomach in the water. The current was starting to pull him down river. He could barely make out his sister’s voice as he started towards the river. He tripped and turned around to see Cora at the top of the hill yelling something inaudible. As he looked up at her a large rock tumbled down and smashed into his head.