anunnaki: chapter 1, 2nd draft

 

"Dying is a wild night and a new road."

– Emily Dickinson

 

 

"Love never dies a natural death."

-Anais Nin

 

 

"We all float down here."

-Pennywise, the clown.

 

1

 

Cynthia "sam" Lynskey: was a chubby, tired librarian. Who had been looking for a fix. "I am in control,"; she wanted to tell herself, yet she knew this was a regret waiting for honesty to validate it. She is standing in the hall of a house, Out in the hills. The lights are grim with heavy shadows. Heavy contrasts of black and glowing gold highlighting whites of skin.

 

The preacher and his family were squatting in a dilapidated hell-hole they called home (or at least a place of business which, if we were honest, that is kind of what home is). The walls had holes from punches in the plaster with splintering cracks. Roaches that were long-dead sprinkled across the carpet that is piss-yellow from decades of nicotine stains.

 

A single couch in this room and a stained mattress her eyes are locked onto in the next room. That Sam is uncomfortably familiar with; she was responsible for some of those stains—over six months of talking herself down from sobriety, talking herself down from pride or dignity.

 

The couch was near the entryway, with a trinity of sleeping, dirt-covered "white trash." One child, the rest could be anywhere from twenty to forty years old. Sam's clean floral dress and translucent scarf aligned her with a world of, "I am fashionable even if it looks like Sunday best for the Walmart crowd."

 

She was waiting next to the preacher's bedroom, which in her mind meant that she would be eating out his wife tonight. "if I have to fuck two of you," she thought, "then I better get double." Out of a kind of politeness, Sam started to cough, looking at the women sitting on the couch before saying,

 

"you look good tonight, jenny."

 

The door opened to a short fat man wearing a black colored button-up shirt and a straw hat fedora before the women could respond.

 

"Hi, preacher," said Sam.

 

"hey," he said, standing to the side so she could enter.

 

Sam walked into the room, anxious and excited. She had been out of her meds for most of the day and agitated at a world that didn't seem to hurt as much as she did. The excitement left, however, when she saw the kid in the corner of the room. He had a nervous smile.

 

"who's the kid? and why is he here?" Said Sam glaring with evident frustration at the preacher, who didn't seem shaken from her exclamation

.

. "I'm, no fucking kid," The kid's voice shook.

 

The preacher said, "calm down, boy." then he looked at Sam, "It's his birthday."

 

and turning red in the face, she whispered, "so?"

 

"how much you have?"

 

"Just a twenty? but we had an agreement."

 

"and we still do, Just it's not me. It's the kid,"

 

"I'm not a kid,"

 

"How old is he?"

 

"he just turned eighteen. Now before this gets any more awkward, James, show her your id."

 

The kid listened and did what he was told.

 

"it says July 12. That's today," said Sam.

 

"You wanted a ladder? I'll give you that and two oxie."

 

"I want it in advance," Said Sam.

 

"no." said the preacher, but he reached in his pocket and pulled out a joint. He lit it, taking a hit, holding it out to Sam while he said, "we have a deal?"

 

She said nothing but took a hit off the joint held it in so long when she finally breathed again. There wasn't all that much smoke. She looked at the kid and held it out to him. His legs were shaking as he walked over to her. Then he sat on the bed.

 

The preacher said, "I will square it off when you're finished." then left, closing the door behind him.

 

She rubbed his shoulders, leaned forward, and kissed his neck. "let me see your tits." he said red-eyed. "she didn't say anything but pulled down the front of her dress. Awkward hands fumbling towards violence, pinched, and fished.

 

"Hey, you're hurting me." said Sam

 

"shut your face," Said James.

 

"This isn't working," said Sam, facepalming.

 

"Hey, come on, I'm sorry." then he stood up, unbuttoning his jeans.

 

"Just lay down, kid," she said. "I will do the rest."

 

He lay back, and she took his small sour cock in her mouth and began with eyes closed to fulfill a bargain. And when he was hard, she said, "Let's get this over with." lifted her skirt. Her pussy had stubble where she had shaven it yesterday. She laid back and guided him into her. Her distracted mind was saying, "you pull out, this isn't an all cum served buffet." he went on humping while she covered her eyes with arms. After ten minutes, she felt him squirt it off and then kiss her lips more fragile than she thought him capable of while all evidence of decency was gone when he continued to grope and play with her despite the tears.

 

Sam wiped his mess off of her, not hiding any disgust, and waited for the preacher to get her pills. The kid gave the preacher deliberate and obvious a self-assured smile and walked out.

"So who was he?" said Sam,

 

"James? He is my sister's boy. his dad thought he was a queer, and they ask for a favor."

 

"so what was I? his birthday present?" Said Sam.

 

"no, can't give away what you don't own; your more like a runt that is almost useless with its mouth taped shut so the fighting dogs can get a taste of blood." Said the preacher.

 

Hair frazzled, she tried to straighten it up and saw James sitting on the porch's warped stairs. He was smoking a self rolled cigarette; he didn't look at her.

 

"Those will kill you," she said, going by.

 

"I didn't mean to hurt you," said James.

 

"I let you do it, so don't worry about it," said Sam.

 

Then, as if he was trying to impress her, he looked up to the sky and said, "there are not even any stars, no sir, not tonight."

 

She got in her car, turning the key, a rough idle than the reverse. She saw him in her headlights, still on the front porch as she drove off into the darkness and was comforted by it.

 

 

 2

 

 

The drive home was pleasant enough — the whitewashed walls of her house revealed itself through the tall grass around it. Sam's life was in the valley, where the mountains glowed on the horizon. With the majority of civilization hidden behind walls of a prison. The privately-owned prison/factories of indentured labor.

 

"shit," said Sam as she paid closer attention to the lights from the city hiding the stars. Dreamy, stoned eyes and a whisper of "it ain't that bad."

She saw the black cat for the first time while making her way up the creaking stairs of the porch. She did a dance of cracking the door and "shoo, shoo, I got nothing for you." trying to escape from its overt friendliness. The way it tried to rub against her shin as she ascended the stairs. Following her from the first of her "shoo's."

 

In a magnificent leap, it landed on her back, climbing up her dress, running over her bare shoulder, and leaping as she leaned down to pick up her keys. the door is pushing open as she reached for the black cat, Sam saying softly, "oh, damn it."

 

She lit the lamp and looking for any glare of reflection in the black cat's eyes, hoping it would give away the location that it was hiding in. She said, "oh fuck you," then Sam exhaled in exasperation. "You can, fucking stay, but I am getting high and going to bed." she locked the front door then went upstairs carrying the lamp to her room.

 

"Cynthia, why do they call you, Sam?" The voice was scratchy, calm, and with no visible source. Sam sat down the lamp on her end table and went back down the stairs.

 

"excuse me," she said, looking around.

 

Then she reached for the drawer that held the revolver; her father had owned before his passing. There she saw the black cat, sitting on the kitchen counter, staring into her eyes out of the darkness, and it started to sing. "jimmy cracked corn, and I don't care. Jimmy cracked corn, and I don't care, the monster's gone away."

 

Then she saw a spiral of smoke, and the cat was gone.

 

"Sam?" said a voice behind her. "is this what you were looking for?"

 

she felt the barrel push against her spine. "Maybe," she said, embarrassed that she had said anything.

 

The gun pulled away, and she heard a chair drag across the floor beside her.

 

"Sit down, please." said the voice.

 

Sam sat down and crossed her arms on the table. Walking casually to the chair opposite her, she saw something not human, but at least humanoid.

 

"I'll be staying awhile," it said. but was then noticing how wounded she seemed.

 

"It's for your good," then it held up the gun, and it turned to dust in its hand.

 

"he laced me with LSD? Didn't he," she said to herself.

 

"no, I am not a hallucination." said the thing,

 

"what are you?"

 

"I am a god or a monster, you could say. I'm not from here. You can call me Teki, and I am a cosmic tourist."

 

"tourist?" said Sam.

 

"If you are going to ask a question, you really should ask less ambiguously...for example. What is a cosmic tourist?" after a painfully long silence, he raised his scaly eyebrow and leaned forward as if to say, 'are you serious?'.

 

Sam, surprised, said, "I'm sorry; I am a little high right now."

 

"don't let me stop you go on ask your question."

 

"Why does everyone have to be an asshole, even aliens?"

 

"Why does everyone have to be an asshole? That is a good question."

 

Then he held his chin as if in deep thought, rubbing his gill-like whiskers. "maybe that is the core of tourism? I might just be looking for someone to surprise me. someone to make the whole mess worth it" then, clapping his hands together once he said, "it's settled; you will be my new passport."

 

"So, What does that mean?" said Sam.

 

"Well, my last one died, so I have been stranded for over a month in this hell hole. looking for his replacement, but luckily I found you."

 

"Your passport died?"

 

"My former one, yes, but I am hoping to replace him"

 

"I am a person, not a passport."

 

"A passport has to be a person. It is the nature of passports to be conscious and alive. Though your feeble human mind can't comprehend much, that isn't your fault. But alas, there is the downside of traveling to these obscure corners of the zoo. If your passport dies, then well, you are stuck with a serial killer monkey, for forty or fifty years."

 

"Fuck you."

 

"oh, come on, you will have a better life than here. Didn't you ever find it strange that a hundred-foot wall surrounded your whole tiny world?"

 

"well yeah."

 

"Well, now you get to go beyond the wall! Think about it; there is a universe out there, and not all the stars are artificial like in the zoo."

 

"can I think about it?"

 

"no!" he said with a smile.

 

"your first job is to dispose of this body," he said as he opened the closet door revealing a shriveled grey octopus creature with humanoid legs and eyes.

 

"Can't you make him disapear? Like you did my dad's gun?" said Sam.

 

"I could, but this little fella was with me for almost a century, and he deserves a burial."

 

"you do it."

 

"I," said Teki, with false pride, "am a God, and we don't do manual labor."

 

"well, I am tired, and that is just as good a reason," said Sam.

 

"Well, he doesn't have any bones...let's go burn him in the yard. Just know that your funeral will be just casual."

 

"he's your friend. Why am I supposed to be sniveling." Said Sam. Teki, in his first sincere moment, looked at her emotionless, and picked up the tentacled creature, and carried him out to the front yard.

 

 

After he laid the alien down, a suit appeared over his sexless body, and he solemnly closed his hands together. Him standing in his new funeral attire before his expired passport. With eyes closed. With startling immediacy, he raised his hands and said, "let there be light!" and the dead creature was in flames. Sam sat on the porch for awhile but was told by Teki, "it could take a few hours for this guy to cook down. You get some rest, and I will see you in the morning." So that is what she did, curled up under her quilt. She thought about how she would kick the preacher's ass for lacing her drugs with hallucinogenics.