Particular Night pt. 3

A single bulb with a visible glowing filament hung over a desk far too small for the man it hosted. A veritable giant in a fine white shirt with sleeves rolled up. He is looking through a giant ledger gently turning pages. Rows and columns of names and date ranges.

Eugene Tomlinson 1916-1918, 1972-1976, 2018-

Bethany Gonzalez 1909-1918, 1962-1966

He looks up from the aged pages and glances out the window. Wrought iron bars with crimson rust partially invade the view of what would be the ocean, if not for the mist.

I look of irritation comes over his long hardened face. He flips back to the first page runs a rocky finger down the ledger to a name. He reaches for a fountain pen and passes over a long list of year ranges finally locating an empty box. He writes... 2021-

Exercising as much self control as possible, he returns the pen to its nest. Shuts the giant book, heavy from countless years of salty air, and rises from his seat. He grabs a giant black overcoat from the coat rack guarding the door, slings it over giant shoulders. Fastens a single button and affixes a black hat to his head. Not quite a bowler, not quite a top hat, but accenting his stature all the more. He takes a heavy breath, possibly a sigh, and exits the office. It is going to be a long night.

===

The party IS the town. The thumping drums the heartbeat. The people flowing around and through one another the lifeblood. The music and conversations are the contents of its consciousness. What a beautiful and powerful consciousness willing to accept and embrace its most unusual non-conforming thoughts. The most disparate and unfamiliar ideas allowed to dance along side one another. What a unique being this is. An egregore celebrating all of the unwelcome and unusual with a carnival transcending the mundane.

The mist kept visibility short. No more than a few arms lengths ahead could be seen but every light burst like a dandelion. The illumination could be seen long before the illuminated. People on wheeled shoes whizzed by dancing elegantly. Some had makeup and costumes. Others walked around in awe while holding food wrapped in paper. The eclectic group the Reverend had already assembled within moments of his return walked together, a step or two slower than the surrounding pedestrians and in slow motion relative the ones on skates.

As they passed from light source to light source they came closer and closer to a very imposing figure.

The reverend takes a deep breath, "who told him I was here?"

"I could smell you" a booming voice replied.

"Hurtful" the reverend pantomiming a clutch of imaginary pearls.

"You know what is going to be hurtful? Me pulling your arms and legs off and leaving you on the pier for the birds to pick at if you stir up trouble tonight."

The entire group stood their mouths open with eyes shocked wide open.

In a much more reserved voice, the bouncer continued "as long as we are understood. Why are you here tonight anyway?"

Reverend tilts his head to ponder for a moment. "I am not exactly sure."

Bouncer replies clearly without uttering a word.

"Well there must be fuckery about somewhere. Why don't you join us for a look around, make sure I do not get up to no good." Revernd turns his chin down to look with upturned eyes with his famous sinister grin.

Bouncer makes hard fists that crack knuckles loud enough to announce the exact level of tolerance there would be for fuckery.

To Be Continued...