The Aka-name or "Filth Licker"

"My Grandfather left me this place. I never much liked the idea of running a restaurant so I closed it. It's been sitting for a few years."
The man fumbled with the keys to the front door, and finally found the one that unlocked it.
Dust covered every surface and all the cobwebs collected tiny mountain ranges of dust. The counters still held old metal napkin holders and bottles of ketchup. The windows were boarded up and the only light came from the cracks between the boards.
"Don't have most of the equipment anymore. Some kids broke in a few months back and trashed a few things, so I sold the rest of it, you wont have to worry about cleaning anything like that. Now I's got a business man interested in  buying the place, So I need it cleaned up a little, mostly getting rid of the dust and wiping everything down."
The woman set down her cleaning supply box and looked around.
"It's just this main room and the kitchen?" she asked.
"And the bathrooms and there's an office area behind the kitchen." He tilted his head and looked at her name plate.
"Mary, I'll be back by 6 to lock up and pay ya. You have my number if you need me."
The man turned and briskly shuffled out the door.
Mary grabbed a few more things from the car and went to work

*****

Mary was sticky with sweat, her clothes were dusted with dirt and grime. She took a long drink from a water bottle as she sat on the clean bar stool. The cobwebs had left the ceiling and corners of the room and now clung to her hair, clothes and broom end. The counters and floors shined with a dingy yellow of there age. She glanced at the clock and sighed, an hour until 6. She set the water bottle down and grabbed her tote of cleaning supplies, the broom and walked towards the bathrooms. She entered the door to her left, the men's room and set her tote down.  While the floors did not shine, the bathroom was not plagued with dust and dirt, a filmy haze covered the walls, floor, and mirror, as if someone cleaned them with a dirty cloth. She grabbed a spray can from her tote and  covered the urinals with  the can's thick blue foam.  She walked towards the only toilet stall when she heard a wet dragging noise and a small splash. She tentatively pushed open the door and saw a small figure with long grey-green hair, sitting on the edge of the seat, with it's feet dipped into the toilet basin. Her spray can fell to the floor as she watched the creature, it slowly turned it's head to face her, it's grey eyes staring through clumps of it's grey-green hair. It's skin was pale with a greenish tinge, a small dirty loincloth covered it's lower half, its chest bare with small breast partially covered by it's unruly  and matted hair. It's tongue snaked out of his mouth quickly become the length of it's body and  flicked towards her, snapping the door closed. Mary screamed and ran, tripping over her tote of supplies, and stumbling forward out to the door. A dry cackle followed her out the door, then a splash and silence.

The building owner walked towards Mary's car with her supply tote and broom in hand.
"I didn't see nobody in there Mrs. Like I says you probably scared them as bad as they scared you, you sure you wont go in and finish?"
Mary nodded her head and he put the things in her car and pulled out his wallet, counting out his bills, then handed her the money.
"It's $10 less then I promised because you didn't finish, I think that's fair."
Mary took the money and rolled up her window, made the sign of the cross, and drove her car out of the parking lot.
"Crazy woman." The man said as he turned back to the restaurant to close up.



_________________________________________________________________________________

A friend of mine showed me the obakemono project and the Aka-name was one of the first monster I had read about, it caught my interest, I can see these creatures being master spies if they really wanted to, at the very least I could see them overhearing some juicy secrets. I'm sure I'll use them again, probably in a novel, I just find them really odd and mysterious.

This story felt like a nice intro into October :) it's just the beginning.

Resolution

The room is black, save for a dim glow of a red light in the corner. There is a shift and the red light informs us it is now 5:30 am and promptly begins to sing. A groan comes out of  the dark, a shuffle of fabric and a hand emerges to stifle the noise. It flops around until the singing is silenced  The hand  grabs at something square next to the clock and there is white light. Eye's glare at the new light, interrupting the darkness, squinting to adjust. It too says that it is 5:30 am. The hand squeezes and the bright light is gone, the hand falls limp. All is still.
"I can do this." whispers a voice and the covers fling back.
Joints crack as the form slowly stands, gingerly stretching it's limbs and walking to a dresser. The mirror reflects a woman's figure as clothes are stripped and replaced. The process is slow and quiet as the woman layers herself in fabric. The bright light is illuminated again as she looks for something in the dresser. There is a rustles from the bed as fabric shifts. The woman turns out the light and looks longingly at the empty side of the bed. She grabs the rest of her things and silently slips out of the bedroom.

The woman laces her shoes and zips her jacket as high as it will go, its fabric brushing her chin. She reaches out and opens the front door. The air is cold and still as she walks, her arms pumping to and fro as she propels herself forward. Street lamps cast a damp yellow light as she walks below them, like checkpoints in the dark morning. Her breath creating puffs of fog as she continues. She comes to an intersection and pauses while she puts her ear-buds in and turns on her music. The light turns in her favor and she jogs across the street, her path well lit for her. Her pace alters in accordance to the music as she snakes around the sidewalks.

The sky has not yet lightened when she breaks back down to a walk. Her music playing a soft tune as she slows. Steam rises from her as she rounds the corner back to her front door. She walks inside, removes her shoes, jacket and ear-buds. Returning  them to there proper place in the closet.  She catches a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror, beads of sweat are built up on her forehead and she brushes them aside with her shirt sleeve. She stairs intently for a few moments, her eyes linger before moving to the next part of her.
"New year. New me." She says as she turns away and walks into the bathroom.


*****

This POV was an experiment. I like the mystery of it at the beginning but I don't think I could tolerate a full novel written this way. I also think it is very easy to over embellish this writing style and over describe things. Though some might say I didn't embellish enough but I like leaving enough of a description gap for you to use your imagination. What does the woman look like to you? I have only described her as a woman, one that is going for an early morning jog. What color are her shoes? They are only described as having laces. Your imagination filled in the gaps didn't it?

And then I saw you

I cannot find the origin of this photo to give the right people credit. It's been floating around Tumbler and Pinterest. If you know the origin please let me know.

 Center Park, New York. 1957

A gust of wind chilled me as I handed the news man the money and took my paper. I turned up my collar as I headed to central park. It wasn't cold unless the wind picked up but I never liked the cold in any amount. In a hour I was to meet with my mother for lunch before we spent the rest of the day shopping. We were in town for a week, a vacation for mother and I, a business trip for father.

 I enjoyed the clicking of my heels as I walked. The park was not far from our hotel and I had been starring longingly at it whenever the taxi passed it. The leaves hand turned and started falling, it was bright greens, yellows, oranges and reds against the brown trunks and grey pavement. New York was too big  for my fancy, at least in the long term. After four days of walking, taxi rides, lunches, and dinner parties,  I needed a little peace.

I did not have to walk far into the park to find an open bench. I paused for a moment and continued  to the furthest I could see, I didn't want just a bench, I wanted the perfect bench. This one was set along a path of grown trees and was surrounded in there colorful foliage. This I decided was the best bench to lose myself in my news paper. I sat down in the middle to discourage others from trying to share my bench, this next hour I wanted for myself. I unfolded the paper and flipped it open, looking for something interesting,  maybe I would be able to join in conversations at dinner tonight. A good portion of articles were on the last game of the New York Giants. I didn't need to read the paper to find out why it was big news, after dinner the past two nights it had been the top conversation piece. I knew that the team was moving to San Francisco and had lost there last game in New York and people were upset. I was not into fallowing baseball but I was growing tired of just smiling and nodding my head while my father and mother talked with their friends, so I read.

I was nearly finished when from the corner of my left eye I saw a small squirrel. He was quite fat and had a nut in his mouth, he scampered in front of me and for a moment I lost sight of him before he appeared again to my right. He was arching around me, between the tree and my bench. he stopped and examined the ground before digging a small hole. I smirked as he pounded his nut down like a jackhammer and covered it with earth. He then scampered behind me.
My eyes moved back towards my paper when I noticed against the tree was a figure, I stared for a moment. It was a man, he looked relaxed as he leaned against the tree with his suit jacket unbuttoned and necktie loosened, just taking a drag from his cigarette. His only oddity was that he was staring right at me, his eyes never wavered, even when I met his gaze. I went back to my paper. It unnerved me at his rudeness and I found that I was reading the same paragraph repeatedly, my mind was on the stranger. I could still feel his eyes on me. How long had he been standing there? The foot traffic on the park path had picked up as people came out for their lunch. I realized I had drastically stretched out while reading and moving to the proper sitting position,  my bum had gone numb and tingly sitting that way. I glanced at my wrist watch to find that I had 5 minutes until I was to meet mother. The man was still against the tree. Though I didn't dare look at him I knew he was still watching me. I began feeling very alone on my bench, even with the trickle of people on the footpath I felt like it was just the stranger and I surrounded by the changing trees. My heartbeat quickened, I was letting my imagination get the better of me and if I continued sitting here I would be late meeting mother. I folded my paper and tucked it under my arm as I got up and walked to the path and out of the park. My walking was brisk and I realized I was passing people. I slowed myself. I was acting like a silly child. Back home an encounter like that would warrant my panic,  back home it was not only  impolite and rude to stare at someone like that, it was creepy. With all the people in New York, especially different people, staring happened  I reminded myself I had done the same thing the other day at lunch, mother scolded me and broke my starring trance.

I had to stop at the corner of the street to wait for the traffic light. A small crowd was growing waiting for the light to change. I went to check my watch again and the paper came loose and fell to the pavement.  I bent down to retrieve it when another hand picked it up. I looked up to find the man from the park. He handed it to me with a small smile growing on his lips, his eyes never looking away.
"Thank you." I said as the light changed. We walked across the street in a small pack.
"Would you like to have lunch with me? I heard him ask. His presence was no longer unnerving like in the park. Perhaps it was because of all the people or the towering buildings around us.
"I'm meeting my mother for lunch right now. So I have to..."
"That sounds wonderful. Where are we meeting her?" He interrupted. his voice full of happy energy.
I stopped and stared at him. "She won't like you." was the only thing that came to mind. I kept his gaze, I was no longer scared of him. He was looking at me with a giant toothy grin.
"I don't care if your mother likes me. I'd like to have lunch with you."
I was becoming amused by him and continued walking to the restaurant. Mother would be able to run him off should he continue in this manner.

Mother Duncan's devotion

When I was 14 or so I scoured my mothers bookshelf for interesting books. One that I found was a volume of Crimes and Punishment (volume 10,  On Amazon )  Being a fan of mysteries and watching COPS, I loved the book. Within this volume were topics of hired killers, suicide, war crimes, and good old fashion murder.

 One story  really caught my eye and my thoughts constantly went back to it. Mother Duncan's Devotion was the first story in the book, it was in the Chapter for Hired Killers and it was twisted and evil. When I began writing a few years later I found it hard to get into my bad guys head or even create someone that was not nice.  I went back to my Crimes and Punishment book (by now I had hoarded it in my room long enough that it had become mine) and I reread Mother Duncan's Devotion and then wrote a  scene from Elizabeth Duncan's POV. On paper I tried to become her or at least try to get a feel for her. If you want to read a little about her story here is a great site that sums it up, Mrs. Elizabeth Duncan. I cannot find a site that is like the passages in Crimes and Punishment.

 The following is what I came up with, I have not edited it or revised it. It's a treasure from when I first began writing, as rough and amateur as it is.

Mrs. Elizabeth Duncan Behind bars.

Mother Duncan's Devotion

There was a surprising gust of wind and I had to pull my light blue coat around me closer. Santa Barbara was a beautiful place except on state street. It was run down and trashy, the place we were going was run down and trashy. But no matter, this was where I was to meet with some "Boys" that could do me a favor. 

I opened the door to the tropical cafe and nodded to Mrs. Esquivel as Emma and I sat at a table. The place, as I said, was run down, filthy, probably to dirty for even the cockroaches. It all made me think that I shouldn't of had frank help them out, but then again I wouldn't have the opportunity to be doing what had to be done. My mood lightened slightly as I thought about my Frank. He would be with me again soon and he would see I was always right. Franks father was an idiot so I couldn't blame Frank for his sudden urge to do the same thing and strike out on his own. Mrs. Esquivel came up to the table with the "Boys" she had been talking about. Hispanic trash, no doubt illegal, stood before me. Both had ungodly big ears and that dirty look most Hispanics have.

"Mrs. Duncan this is Luis Moya and Augustine Baldonado. I think they can help you with your problem." She looked from the young men to me and left.

I placed a placid smile on my face and greeted them. We sat at one table to talk business while Emma, good friend as she was, sat at a different one. God bless her 70 years old and still loyal and thick enough to keep my secret. 

We jumped right into the heart of the meeting and we started to discuss price. Luis seemed the most eager and did most of the talking, the other one though, younger I suppose, kept quiet.

" I can happily pay you $3000 once the jobs done."

"That sounds a little cheap for who were taking out."

I pursed my lips, No matter, I thought, I won't pay them that much anyway.

"We'll do it for $6000." Luis exchanged a glance at his friend. "$3000 now and $3000 after."

Men were so easily deceived, it was almost sad. Lucky I knew how to keep them in the dark and still get what I wanted.

"Very well gentlemen. I just need the problem to be taken care of."

"Well make sure your unwanted daughter-in-law is eliminated Mrs. Duncan."

"Make sure you do." I got up stiffly. I already mentioned some ways I've thought to get rid of the little wretch, their faces graying as I went into details. She wasn't going to take away my son, I thought as Emma and I left the Cafe. He would be mine again soon and Olga would be gone.

*   *   *   *   *

Interestingly this was the first time I wrote in first person and to date this is the only fiction I have in first person, at least that I can remember (and I have no old scraps of paper to say otherwise)