before
the black blasted tree there was a tall singular room Scandinavian design austere intricate tiny lights hanging down from the
exposed whitepainted pyramid roof rafters
the lights swayedmoved like tiny
white birds a murmuration
they chittered as they flew and glanced
off the honed beamsthe planked ceiling
family gathered in the room
beneath the happy lightsthey had been invited to help themselves to the art supplies and askedif they wished to create something
how they
expressed themselves whether on paper or
canvas with pencil coloured pencils charcoal brushed acrylic fingerpainted oil or watercoloured was up to them
he told his cousin he was going to
sketch him in pencil dress him up in a seductive
French maids outfit
they laughed
he asked if he should pose
they laughed more
his cousin was skinny waifish a pale scarecrow although he did afford him ridiculously spectacular
tits
he tilted his cousin head in
profile and across his broad pale cheek with a charred crumbling stick from the
blasted tree outside he wrote
I found him hiding
behind the wired wood slats of a fence
this tickled them too
his Aunt Ruthhis cousins mother was displeased
he told her he drew for his
pleasure
she violently attacked the drawingknocked
it downripped it to pieces pieces that sighed
in the airshivered as they fell
her abrupt scornful attack
ended the gathering
the tiny white birds coweredpressed themselvescrowded high up quiet quiet on the beams clinging to minute footholds in ceiling
everyone parted
uncomfortably they exited the warm
honeycoloured paneled room and set out across a dark sod field to gather again at the hotels ballroom up the hill that overlooked the tall room the trees and river
beyond
as they walked his tall gaunt
severe Aunt Ruth walked among them sermonisingcrying out Biblical passages
imploring them they were family they
should turn to God turn to his teachings of love and honor and respectJESUS
while walking behind them
he stooped and picked up two heavy blackened branches he beat them together
in an attempt to drown out his aunts shrill words
their family avoided making eye
contact with either Ruth or himself
he knew they werent
God-fearingthey didnt cherish the Bible as Ruth did and he knew they also knew he thought it was
abominable it was not the Word of
God the Faithful were wise to give him a wide
berth
entering the brightly lit
ballroom the familys size diminished itmaking it smaller that it was by their
sheer numbers it was cluttered with odd sofas
and divans chairs individual and grouped
twos and threes sought to
sit sought comfort after the
uncomfortableness that happened in the art room and proceeded while acrossing
the field
most of the family stood or milled
about perhaps wonderingperhaps wondering if they shouldnt leave and take to the rooms
let them
as their voices and discussions
about what to do began to rise one of Ruths other sons began to speak
he tried to put everyone at ease tried to leave the
room the walk across the black field behind them he too offered psalms or prayers or passages
or whatever they were
he didnt leave the charred
branches outside the ballroom he was
prescient perhaps and again he began beating them together
inside the ballroom they were sharpersounded like gunshots and were
terribly more disruptive to his cousins words than his aunts
yet even as he banged the wood together he recognised
his cousins tone was less abrasivehis words were more endearing he sounded like a peacemaker
maybe had he
thought to peacemake without the Father Son and Holy Ghost he wouldnt have been
so brusk
a forgiving manhis cousin a better man than he
with his cousins invocation
interrupted and quieted peace
Ah then suddenlyappearing from out of nowhere his Uncle John Ruths husband stood he seemed to unfurl he was ungainly tall he walked between odd-period furniture the
chair-groups and like a geometric ray of
determined length and direction finite Uncle John began to speak
he stood watching his uncle the burnt branches still in his hands but before he could smash them together to
quiet his uncle too John suddenlywent
erect asif transfixed then went
overtumbled collapsed convulsing
he began to speak in
tonguecrying from the floor as he flopped over and over himself as family yanked
chairs and furniture out of the way so he didnt hurt himself against the legs
and edges
he was wrong
not tongue
Whoochie
Whooche speaking through his
uncle that had to hurt Whoochie was a flamboyant drag queen he saw
perform in Texas once upon a time
Whoochie addressed them he slammed the branches
together surprised there remained ash to shed and between his THUDs he cried Whoochie
Whoochie Whoochie at the top of his
lungs addressing him by name and as suddenly his uncle quit
convulsing
he walked over to him
his uncle lay still
Uncle John he said
lying prone on the hardwood floor
his uncle replied though not to him loudly he spoke to the assemblythe family he spoke of the artworks in the tall roomthe
sparkling effervescent lighting he decried
his wife Ruth, you were wrong! John said he was wrong for banging the
sticks his son was wrong trying to
intercede
and
bit by bit his uncle shook Whoochie shook his intonation his drawl his black
mans voice and bit by bit as his uncles voice
resurfaced more by more he became cognizant the Whoochie was gone had released
his uncle
then quietly his uncle said to him directly that he had stolen his car that he had driven it until it ran out of gas
then abandoned it he couldnt remember
where
I was lost he said
and through the resonance of I was
lost Whoochie erupted laughing percussively IDIOT! We’re all lost; everyone! Everyone is lost!
he
bitchslapped his uncle
his head went sideways
Whoochie slipped outslithered in
the slobber loosened by the sharp slap and violence Whoochie took its brunt not his uncle
GO he told Whoochie Youre frightening
everyone They dont know who you are
Youre the idiot
he could smell the fright in the
room
they believed something else
he wasnt going to hazard a guess
disembodied Whoochie stood
he could vaguely make out his
shimmer
Whoochie grabbed him at the
shoulders not that anyone other than
himself would know So they can believe
what they like, and we’re, we’re not allowed ours?
then suddenly he evaporated in a
thin mist above his uncle
his uncle wasnt aware
no one in the ballroom was aware
standing over his Uncle John John looked up at him
I’m not here, am I?
No Uncle John
I’m dead.
You are
his spine went out of him he went lax like a rag doll on the parquet
hardwood floor the finite ray his
uncle had been began folding on itself
incrementally smaller and smaller by half and half and half
and gone
the smell of fright remained
though it wasnt as pungent
because they could disbelieve their eyes because
they could dismiss this suddenness dismiss the irreality that a person was here then they werent
then they couldnt have
been
because they too knew that Uncle
John was dead
dead is dead after all
isnt it
when he had grabbed his frail
cousin by the collar in the honeycoloured room when they offered to make an artpiece he also decided at that moment that he wanted
to make an attendantan accompanying narrative to his piece
and as he held his collar
his cousin blanchedhis eyes rolled into his head and he transformed into a
twodimensional sheaf of paper
which was what he drew
on which was why he scribbled with the
charred stick on his cheek
I found him
hiding behind the wired wood slats of a fence
which inflamed his aunt to
destroy the piece
because he laughed
he laughed at her son
who laughed with him
the drawing trembledhumoured in their brotherhood
just before his mother ripped him down
from the easel and shredded him
Why would you do that What
possessed you to do that
violence was her answer
she didnt see her son as he and
her son did
he was fragile
they accepted it
she could not
man is created in Gods image Imago dei
her son could not be weak
she perceived weakness
they knew he was gentle
really what could be more gentle than a buxom French
chambermaid
0439, Wednesday,
20 11. 19
1625, Sunday,
7 6. 20
