Monday, September 17, 2012

The Frenzy

It was one noisy week when the octogenarian above moved out.  Allegedly it was to rehab. Even the flatbed truck with the E. Vil Plumbing and Heating Company logo were clearly from a time more economically solvent.  The sons parked it along the driveway filled with Beverly Hillbilly oak cabinets and headboards.  Jed Clampitt couldn't be too far away.

Then the renter above was bumped out of the elevator flanked on the forearm by two hefty men.  Her stainless cane was nearby.  This time, her hair was coiffed.  She was going somewhere.  Definitely.

But it was as though they couldn't get her out fast enough.  Rumors held that she was going to a home, convalescent or otherwise.  I didn't see her again.  I did hear her sons...all night long.  All nights' long.  It took days of packing, days of occupying the singular elevator in the building.

"Are you Elaine's family?"

"Yes!"

I walked up to the apartment early enough the following morning.  Seeing her 'grandsons' didn't sit well with me for days.  They didn't look of this earth.  In fact, they looked like Pugsley, the son in the Addams Family.  Both boys, the younger and the elder.  Their coloring, hairline were just plain...odd.

A scoffed door, more scoffs than not revealed a hurried, careless move.  Why so late in the night?  Plates rattled on the guest room wall for nights.  Eventually, there were removed.  Mostly out of concern they would fall and shatter.  My English Nana wouldn't have liked that.

And then it happened.  Thoreau was visiting and had a download.  Several of them. I listened and wondered.  I had a heavy night of something as well.  Then the next light was a light one.  That was after Thoreau's camera told the whole story.

"There's something you got to see!"

We met in the hall as he pulled up his digital photo shoot just the morning before.  At first he thought it was a speck on the lens.  An investigative photojournalist, he wanted to know more.



Zooming in this is what was out there.

The following afternoon, there was a slight knock at the door.  It was the Pugsleys.  Or what ever their name is.  Peering through the peephole I was not about to open the door.  As I walked about the studio, their footsteps above followed.  Sitting on the balcony above, one was listening.  I decided to close the slider and secure it.

Again, I changed rooms and the footsteps followed.  There appeared to be no female in residence.  I remembered the handsome man I saw only six days before.  The boys looked nothing like him.

As I laid down on the sofa to clear my highly detailed mind, thoughts returned to the vibration in the guest room six days ago.  Thoreau felt it last night but this time, it was in his leg.  Not the floor, walls or ceiling like I had heard.  I thought about the butterfly frenzy yesterday which we saw.  The dragonfly frenzy.  They would drop down and scoot up and up.  It seemed as though they were telling us something.

The air cooled as the evening came to a close.  The dogs were highly agitated.  They had never been this way.  

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