Atarah’s Crown

There I am. Motionless. I make a pretty corpse. There goes my agent standing over me crying. I wonder if they are crying because I’m dead or because I can’t make them anymore money. The sirens. They can’t save me. Was all of this worth selling my soul for? There are no concepts of temperature for where I stand but some how behind me I can feel a fire making my soul sweat; and the tapping on my shoulder in the form of a hoof. Do I pray for reincarnation or am I damned for all eternity; or am I even allowed to pray at all after all I have done.

Chapter 1

I have always adored music. My mother was a church star and sang like an angel. Her voice could make any devil worshipper hear the legions in her voice. I was never blessed with that kind of talent. I can belt out a good tune but it was never as powerful as my mother’s voice. I wish I could have that kind of power. Maybe I never completed puberty but as a young woman trying to walk in shoes that are hard to fill; completing your dreams simply look like dreams and less of a reality. Maybe it’s my lack of passion for it. I love music but not as much as I love power. I see how my mother influences people, and helps them through tribulations; and prayer. Today, I have another performance at a cheap local joint where the stages are covered in sticky beer, depressing crowd and filthy mics. I’m tired of playing at these venues but tonight I have no choice if I want to pay my bills. My parents could help me but I’m old enough to be independent; plus they are not exactly the rich kind of people.

I arrive at the venue with my make-up full on and my best heels. Appearances are appearances; and that means everything depends on it. The guy behind the counter wears the beard of a pirate but the stomach of a heavy beer drinker. “Hey, $10!” he growls “I’m performing” a perverted smile crawls across his face “On me?” “Don’t be an ass, you know I’m the singer” He shrugs and lets me inside. I attempt to walk through the pockets of air and space to make it to backstage. I got one bag attached to me. I need to double check my makeup and outfit before going live. I look around backstage and find the dressing room or should I say closet with 2 broken mirrors. I am not leaving my personal belongings here alone. My bags are coming with me. My dress looks pleasing to the eye and yet simple. I wanted to stand out so I bought this cute red dress that should make me pop out on stage no matter where I sing. I drink some apple juice and make my way to the curtains. Well it’s more a thin slot next to a wall where I can’t be seen easily from the stage. I hear a breathy smoker make announcements “This evening our first performance includes pole dancing sensation Whips, a saucy number from Tanya, the band Striker and last but not least singer Ah…A…Ataahrah” I cringe at the terrible pronunciation but I’ll fix that when I’m on stage. I’m proud of my name Atarah, it means crown in Hebrew. A crown is what I deserve to wear and I am going to strut that onto the stage.

I hear the beat. It’s time. I nervously approach the stage and step out to a crowd half paying attention. I open my mouth and let a soothe sound caressing their ears. A slow motion gaze pans in my direction and an airy breath of surprise from my audience. There is no movement and there is no clapping or dancing; just motionless people staring. My best friend often says I leave people in a speechless awe, but for an artist feedback is everything. My face cools from the lack of stage lights and when I open my eyes again the curtains have closed. A deep bellowing gust of support I hear from the side “You did great kid!”, of course my best friend has always been in my corner and dreams of my success more than me. A short hug of gratitude is all he needs “Hey Tsubasael, again, another silent crowd...” “kid, I’m telling ya leave em’ speechless!” I have to laugh and appreciate his support. We walk to my so called dressing room in a half decorated janitors closet. The mop’s odor fills the room, no window and just a chair with folding table and mirror; I’m confident these items were in someone’s dumpster. The pole dancer has an actual room but I guess sex sells huh. “Atarah, how many are you doing tonight?”, “Bas, it’s just this one and I had to fight to get this spot; maybe I should add pole dancing to my set”. “You could add it, but only if it’s you” he says. He picks up my coat to help me get ready. We scramble out the janitor’s closet with my bag and slam into the club owner. “ATAH!!!!!” Bas sees me cringe “I’m obligated” delight as I turn to the smug older woman who use to be beautiful but spent too much time under the knife “Hey J.D.! This is my best friend Tsubasael & this is Juno Diana; she prefers to be called JD.” Bas extends his hand with a friendly smile but JD’s grin twists into a you’re not allowed to touch this; I politely tuck his hand away. “Cute Suba, but Ata, tonight the crowd was quiet. You’ve got an angels voice but maybe you’re not for here” “JD I left them in awe!”, trying to borrow Bas’ words. Her round eyes close up in skepticism and she mumbles “I can give you another chance to bring in money, why don’t you learn the pole a little bit and then sing; this way you can hold the crowds attention; hmmm?” I want to rearrange her face with a facial restructuring she didn’t pay for but I gotta let it pass. “Ha! I was just telling him that wasn’t I Bas?!” Bas is starting at JD but I know what that squinty monotone face means. JD fills with excitement “Great, but perhaps if you wanna make it in this industry I’ve got a friend you should meet; they can guarantee your success” “Guarantee? Nothing is guaranteed JD.” A smile I’ve never seen before slides across JD’s face “Oh darling! With my friends, anything can be guaranteed; with a small price”. She pulls a dark silver business card from her bra and all it has is a name engraved “Kayo Teh”; she firmly grips my arm to pull me to her lips “whisper the name in the mirror and put a drop of blood on the card and they’ll find you” Bas is highly suspicious but patient. JD let’s go of me and walks away arrogantly; the clicking of her 4 inch heels are the only thing can cause so much sound with so little weight.

Under the street lamp I switch from my cheap platform glitters to my combat boots. “Atarah, what did she say to you?”, “Apparently putting blood on this card and whispering the name; her friend will find me”. Bas stares at me sternly, “Bas, relax I’m not gonna slit my wrists for a metal business card...” he sighs relief so I finish my sentence with “I might do it to see color but that’s different”, “Not funny.” I shrug “too soon?” With a smirk; I have always had a dark sense of humor but in order to survive, it’s the only way to live. We make our way through the desolate streets filled with grabby men, luring women, lonely, deprived individuals looking for a way out of hell on earth. I can’t figure out if it breaks my heart to stare at these people because of how they are living or if they are living this way because they were drained from their dreams. We get into his car and he begins to drive me home. It is a quiet car ride and I can tell I must have them worried “Bas, on a serious note I’m not gonna slit my wrists”. Bas starts to relax more “I know...you’re too clumsy, you’re a pills kinda gal”, “Awe you know me”. We have such dark conversations and I’ll never understand why he picked me up from the floor; what was the point of keeping me alive to keep failing everyday. I stare up at my door from the passenger seat then glance at Bas with a reassuring smile” We hug and I make my way into an apartment I can’t afford. It is a beautiful two bedroom duplex with two bathrooms. I truly cannot afford this place but I wanted to have one room to sleep in in one room to create my music. I keep hoping that what Bas says is true and one of these days I will start to make money so I can afford this apartment; but right now I have to get to work in the morning. I make my way to the bathroom to begin to take down my long curly hair; why is it always so difficult to find the pins in my hair after a show. I put the business card JD gave me on the counter but it falls to the floor. I could pick it up but much like my dreams; it seems like it to stay there. After lightly refreshing my curls and putting in some braids for bedtime, I lay in my bed with my three cats hoping they can comfort me.

Morning rolls around faster than I anticipated. The last thing I can remember was staring at a clock that I am pretty sure I said five. It is 7:30 and I have to get ready for work quickly. As I roll out of bed a sharp pain hits my stomach and of course mother nature shows up early. I pull back my sheets that I now realize need to be washed but first I need some aspirin. I slowly walk to the bathroom hunched over with blood running down my leg. Men have no idea how lucky they are. I run the shower and take four aspirin and when I look at my bathroom floor I realized I have stepped in my own blood. I Strip what is left of the clothes I thought I was going to keep and as I walked towards the garbage can, I step on the business card. I probably should’ve picked this up last night. The business card as my bloody footprint on it and I begin to remember what JD said. Maybe it was the wrenching pain from my stomach or maybe the desperation to make my heart and stomach stop hurting; I decided to mumble the name “Kayo Teh”. I paused for a minute expecting a witchy entrance like they do on TV but all I see is my shower steaming up my bathroom. I put the business card on the bathroom counter; I’ll clean this up once I am cleaned up. The water feels perfect on my skin.

I stick my leg out of the shower and as I pull back the curtain; the bathroom is spotless. I open the bathroom door and everything is clean. My three cats sit on my kitchen counter staring at someone with dark silver hair. “GET OUT!”, oh crap someone broke into my apartment.

The stranger barely turns her head and softly says “You called me, are you sure you want me to leave?“ “ Excuse me?“ The grey haired figure turned around and I cannot tell if it is a man or a woman. Everything about them is androgynous from their physical features to their voice. “Kayo?”, “Yes, all of you are so strange whenever you called me. You reach for me and when I answer the phone you do not know what to say. “ A glance at the clock and I can tell that I am going to be really late “I honestly wasn’t expecting you when I whispered your name. I didn’t intentionally put my blood on the card I just have my period.” “ then let’s say you were destined to meet me.“ “ I am open to the conversation but right now I have to get to work” Kayo looks to my clock and laughs, “Atarah Time does not affect us and I can have you in work before you can blink so let’s talk business, for what you want and what you’re willing to give up. Ooooo I do love new contracts” Did they just say what I am willing to give up? “Kayo, what do you mean by willing to give up?“ “Atarah, everything is an exchange of energy. Whether it is you training your voice to sing better or expecting the crowd to respond to you; your dreams have a cost.” “ what kind of cost? I don’t have to give up my voice do I?“ Kayo smile looks like JD’s smile “No, I am more interested in what I can get by looking deep into your eyes”. I can’t tell if this thing is hitting on me or this is a contract I should be mindful of. Kayo trails into “ How about a sample of what I can provide for you? Let’s say you perform again this weekend and I will place you in the eyes of someone who can make you grow?” I want to jump to a quick yes but there’s a part of me that says my heart and brain do not agree. “I think that is fair, if I can see what you’re able to do for me.“, “Of course, everyone always does. I will see you this weekend.” I blink and I am in my cubicle with a cup of coffee in my hand. What just happened? I grab my cell to text Bas (I hate to bother you but can you pick me up after work something crazy happened today). Bas replies (of course). I read a little easier but now I have to figure out how my going to explain all this to my best friend.

Bas is staring at me and I can tell he is trying to be very polite before calling me legitimately crazy. “Bas, you gotta believe me!” “Kid I didn’t say I did not believe you…I…am… just simply processing... you said you were not going to do it“ Great now I have to talk about the embarrassing part of the story. I can see he is trying not to laugh at me but I am feeling very envious of him being a male. “That’s so kismet, was it a man? Was it a woman? What is the cost of what you want?”, “ well, we didn’t really talk about the cost but they did say they would give me a sample this weekend. I also couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman at all!“ Bas stares at me intensely to ask me “ do you feel like this is safe? And is this really the way you want to achieve your dreams?“ that was a very good question and the truth was I didn’t really have an answer I just know that I have bills to pay and dreams that are strangling me in my sleep. If the price wasn’t much I don’t see why it shouldn’t matter too much. “Bas, I know you were worried but you also know how much I have been through. This could be an opportunity! do you not want me to make it after you saving my life! Soo you pumping my stomach not be such a waste anymore.” He exasperates “It was never a waste and I was not gonna leave you on the floor with all of those pills.” Here we go again. “Look, what I am saying is at least this way if it really is a guarantee success then doesn’t make it much worth it for you and me from that night.“ Bas didn’t have much to say but he did want to see the apartment.

We return to my place and I left Bas evaluate whatever he thinks he’s investigating on his own. Bas insists on seeing it. He doesn’t say I don’t believe you. He doesn’t have to. The way he scans my face, the way he keeps replaying my words in his head like he’s trying to catch a glitch; that’s disbelief dressed up as concern. “Show me where it happened,” he says. The apartment looks exactly the way it almost always does; or at least how I wish I could keep it. Too clean. Too quiet. Too expensive for the money I don’t have.

The cats lounge in their usual places, indifferent. Not a single one reacts to Bas the way they had reacted to Kayo and that unsettles me more than anything else. “This is it,” I say, gesturing weakly. “The bathroom. The kitchen. They were right there.”

Bas walks slowly, methodically. Old habits. He checks corners, surfaces, the lock on the door. The windows. The fire escape. He opens cabinets like he expects to find fingerprints or heat or something.

Nothing.

The bathroom smells faintly of soap. No blood. No footprints. No sign of the panic I remember so clearly it still lives in my ribs. “You said the card had blood on it,” he says gently. I open the drawer where I know I put it; and there it is…the business card. Pristine.

No footprint. No smear. No proof that I ever bled onto it at all. Bas picks it up, turning it over. “Dark silver,” he says. “Heavy cardstock. No phone number.” He squints at the engraved name. “Kayo Teh,” he reads. “That’s it?” “That’s it.” He hands it back to me, watching my face closely. “There’s nothing on this,” he says. “No residue. No smell. No ink bleed. If there was blood, even dried, I’d see something.”

I want to scream that I stepped on it with blood running down my leg. That the bathroom was spotless when it shouldn’t have been. That the cats saw them. Instead I just say, “They cleaned it.” Bas exhales slowly. “Kid,” he says, not unkindly. “You were exhausted. You were in pain. You’ve been under a lot of pressure.” I nod, because I know what he’s offering me.

An exit. A way to walk backward out of this without losing face. But then I notice something wrong. Bas is standing exactly where Kayo stood.

And I feel nothing.

No heat. No shift. No presence.

Just Bas.

Just reality.

That’s when it hits me; not relief, not fear, but something worse. Kayo didn’t leave traces because they didn’t arrive.

They were already here.

*********CHAPTER 2**************

(I’ll add to it again, just trying to get my feet wet again on this story.