Night walker part 7

Night Walker part 7

It has been three nights since Shaniqua witnessed the doggie cannibal incident.  Three nights since she actually witnessed the incident, the other nights Bertie saw it in her nightmares.  Bertie chose to lay low, rest and rethink her life choices.  She had been hitting the streets pretty hard as Shaniqua in an attempt to cram in as much experiences as she could in a short amount of time.  Bertie found this assignment nothing short of disgusting but she chose it and she would see it through.  Her idea for getting through this assignment was that, as in the movie Pretty Woman with Julia Roberts, by not kissing the johns she somehow detached herself from the sexual acts.  This idea was not panning out too well.  Equally as ineffective was thinking that condoms in some way would help her detach emotionally, maybe if she wore the condom over her Limbic system.  There was a modicum of detachment; she was after all researching a topic not living this lifestyle out of necessity or circumstance.  As a researcher she was able to approach her johns with a clinical mindset; to a point.  She did share her cerebral space with Shaniqua however and Shaniqua "felt" things differently.  Bertie was a bright woman, really she was but what on earth was she thinking!  Her plan to spend two months researching for her latest book as a prostitute, a night walker, would sound absurd to anyone; it was starting to sound that way to her.  Shake it off sistah!  We gots to gets ta work said Shaniqua to Bertie.  Never before had Bertie heard so clearly and independently in her head the voice of her latest alter ego; it was disconcerting.

Bertie, taking heed to what Shaniqua had said, retrieves the identity shoe boxes from the bookshelf next to the TV.  Bertie places "her" in the wood grain box with the calligraphic B, returns the lid to the box, the box to the shelf.  Bertie then takes Shaniqua's bedazzled pink and chartreuse box into the bedroom to breathe life into Shaniqua.
Not too busy out tonight.  Be someone come though.  Mens always wants it.  Shaniqua began her "shift" on her corner the same way she had for the past six weeks; relentless.  Nothing seemed to have changed since she last worked.  Le'me think, was Thursday when I seen dem dogs eatin one 'nother.  I ain't no mind to nothin' over the weekend, but 'tall looks da same so maybe nothin' gone on.  Just then Shaniqua noticed a flier taped to the light pole; MISSING WOMAN.

Instantly she remembers the sight of the leopard print pump.  The sight of dem dogs eating one 'nother put it clean out my head.

Lu'
04/01/13

When Old walks

When Old walks it does so bent
No wonder where Old's posture went
Away with youth, now in old age
Old walks with a wheeled metal cage
Tennis balls adorn it's feet
Old prays soon my maker I'll meet
Youth is fleeting, Old knows this
Remember youngster youth is bliss
Lu'
03/08/13

Night walker part 6

Night walker part 6

Detective Earnest Toucahn has been a cop for 8 years, all of them in Harrisburg.  He is good at his job; he likes it too.  Detective Toucahn stood about 6'3 and weighed in at 240 pounds give or take a burger or two.  He worked out regularly in the police gym.  He always enjoyed working out, even as a youngster.  He was sure to stay fit once he became a cop.  He didn't want to fall into the stereo type of the doughnut eating overweight cop portrayed so aptly on TV and in the movies.  He ate doughnuts alright but you would never know it to look at him.  He was a good looking man of 30; the big 3_0.   He was tall, not dark, but oh so handsome.  They say opposites attract, his thick wavy dark brown hair and molten brown eyes were quite the opposite of his fair white skin, that combination certainly did attract the ladies.  With a nickname like Big Bird one might not think him to be handsome.  He got the nickname in high school when he had a growth spurt; his height shot up past most the other kids.  The growth spurt coupled with his last name Toucahn and viola you have Big Bird.  Only his friends called him Big Bird, those with nerve to do so.  To everyone else he was known as Earnie or Detective Toucahn.

Detective Toucahn was sitting at his desk looking at a photo of a missing woman that came off the wire service 30 minutes earlier.  He took another sip of his coffee.  He savored the taste and aroma of the hot coffee.  The squad room was abuzz with activity which was not out of the ordinary.  A call came in for a missing person this morning at 7:33.  Missing person reports were nothing new to the station.  Detective Toucahn took that call at 7:33 and was now looking at the face of his missing person.  She was a beautiful woman, at least in this picture.  The caller told him they were sending over a recent picture, taken at the missing women's company Christmas party last year.  Last Christmas being only a month and a half ago one can deduce the woman would look the same.  Her name was Catherine Ballentine, age 22, red hair, hazel eyes, Caucasion, petite.  In the photo she is wearing a fitted black dress, her hair pulled back and up, modest pearl necklace.  She looked appropriately dressed for a company Christmas party.  Det. Toucahn smiled, thinking she must be a tiny bit spirited to have finished off her appropriate outfit with a leopard pump, the strap circling her small ankle.


by Lu'
02/27/13

Night walker part 5

Night walker part 5

Bertie woke at 10:30 in the morning.  This was pretty much her usual time to wake following a night walking her "beat".  If only she were a cop and not a make believe hooker.  Huh she may not be a prostitute by profession but she was no make believe hooker;  she had the work wounds to prove it.   With this latest charade even Bertie was starting to question her methods.  "Anything for your craft" isn't that what they say?  But would they, any of them, go as far as Bertie has gone this time.  Bertie lay in bed having a discussion with herself.  She liked to lay in the quiet, aside from the constant talking in her head, safety of her bedroom.  The sunlight peeking through the slightly parted drapes she found most soothing.  She enjoyed the quiet of her apartment as it was in such contrast to the noise of the streets. 

Ending this particular conversation with herself, she decides it is time to get up.  Standing in front of the bathroom mirror looking into her eyes Bertie begins once again to question herself and this research assignment she has taken on of her own accord.  Her eyes reflect the horror she has seen on the streets.  The ugliness she has subjected her body to is reflected in those eyes as well.  Look she says to herself, there is no use in crying over what has happened.  I started this and I am going to finish it, end of story or should I say, beginning.   So buck up Missy she says with a curt nod of her head. 

After she finished washing up Bertie heads for the kitchen.  Readying the maker she turns it on waiting for her morning coffee. With anticipation, thinking of her first of cup of coffee she salivates slightly.  Bertie noticed the opened letter from her sister she left unread on the couch from the night before.  Plucking a vanilla yogurt from the fridge she heads to the couch where certain judgment has waited while she slept.   Danielle begins this letter as she does all her letters to Bertie.  Her older sister Danielle, by 2 years, is and always has been predictable. 

There is nothing wrong with predictability unless you were Bertha  Louise Thompson.  Yes, that is B.L.T. you know like the sandwich.  When younger Bertie heard more time than she cared to remember boys offering to supply her with their mayonnaise for her B.L.T.  Boys can be so cruel and many grow up to be equally, if not more so, cruel men.  She was finding this out first hand.  As if growing up with a name like Bertha weren't enough burden in a school filled with Brittanys, Jessicas, kaylas and Tiffanys her initials invited crude sexually based taunts.    

The letter from her sister went on to say Danielle was fine, her husband George was fine.  The kids Paul and Sally were a challenge but they too were fine.  They recently rescued a small dog from the humane society in town.  They named it Scruffy.  The new addition makes them now a perfect little family of 5.  Now on to the judgment, do you think it is really necessary to go off like this?  How long will you be gone this time?  What about Mom?  She worries about you so;  we all do.  I bet you aren't taking care of yourself like you should...

Bertie folds the letter when she has finished reading it.  Nothing earth shattering reported in the letter, no one in trouble, hurt or ill; just the usual judgmental questioning.  Her sister keeps asking the question even though Bertie has never been forthcoming with answers.  Taking the letter to her desk she retrieves stationary from the top drawer of the desk.   She chose pale green with lillies and matching envelope.  Bertie has always taken pride in her stationary.  She laments at the lost art of letter writing.  Now the world is text messages and emails.  Bertie replies to correspondence without fail in fear they might come looking for her if a response was not received; she couldn't have that.  No she could not have people looking for her, especially on this outing, at this juncture, doing these THINGS.

Dear Danielle,
Nice to hear from you but I'd prefer you stopped writing.  Glad to hear all is fine with you and yours why wouldn't it be fine it is always fine.  I wonder if it really is, always fine.  I'm sure Mom is doing well with church and her clubs even though you never fail to deal the Mom card to try and guilt me into coming home.  No doubt she misses me but she understands my methods but would she understand or sanction what I was doing this time, no absolutely not.  Tell her for me if you would that everything is FINE I am walking the streets dressed like a hooker and sleeping with men for money and questioning my own sanity but it's all good.

Love Bertie ♥


by Lu'
2-12-13

Night walker part 4

Night walker part 4

Dear Bertie,

My goodness hon it seems like ages... 

Bertie put down the letter, while getting up to check her cell phone.  She heard a notification sound, who are you who who, coming from inside her shoe box and realized she had not checked her phone when she got this morning.  She was surprised to see the letter from home in her mail box .  This surprise interrupted her routine albeit slightly.  Usually when she got home from a night on the street, after showering, she put away Shaniqua, including her trac phone and shoulder bag.  Some of those items still sat on the table near the door, Bertie's customary drop zone upon entering her apartment.  She takes Shaniqua's belongings from the table and places them in the hot pink and chartreuse shoe box with the bedazzled S on the front.  Along with the items from the table Bertie adds to the box Shaniqua's nose and cheeks she retrieved from the bathroom sink.  Bertie put the gaudy shoe box back on the book shelf next to the TV in the living room.  Reaching in the other shoe box that sits alongside Shaniqua's, Bertie retrieves her android phone.  The shoe box containing Bertie's belongings in contrast to Shaniqua's box is covered in wood grain contact paper with a gold calligraphic B on the front.  Bertie created these boxes to help her keep things straight, who's who as it were.  Bertie takes her phone and sees that the alert she heard is from Yahoo letting her know she has emails.  Glancing at the emails, seeing nothing requiring her immediate attention Bertie decides to call it a night or day as the case may be.  She isn't sure if she will head out tonight as Shaniqua.  Bertie usually takes a night or two off between walks.  The business with the leopard pump and those dogs kind of threw her off her game so, she just might head out this evening.  The experiences won't happen without her.  She can't have this charade all be for naught. Bertie turns out the lights heading for the bedroom she stops turning toward the open letter laying on the couch.  Shrugging her shoulders and turning back towards the bedroom she sighs and thinks oh I will read it tomorrow or is it today; oh bother I will read it later.


by Lu'
01/05/13

Night walker part 3

Night walker part 3

As time neared 3:30 am Shaniqua was ready to "punch out" and head home.  Home, where she could shower away the lingering reminders of her chosen job, a choice of necessity, she would never call her profession.  She did her best to hold on to bits of her humanity during her "shift".   Her large tattered shoulder bag carried more than the usual purse contents.  She carried mouth wash, body wipes, hand sanitizer, band aides, first aid cream and of course condoms.  She often thought of marketing a whore's survival kit, tentatively called Tidy Ho.  She was cold to the bone tonight.  It wasn't simply the winter temperatures in Harrisburg that were bone chilling but the sight of two dogs forced by neglect to cannibalize the third.  Shaniqua could handle man's inhumanity toward man but shudders at man's inhumanity toward animals.   She drove in quiet choosing not to turn on the radio, instead to soak in only silence and the car's heat.  Shaniqua typically used the radio to assist her in her drive home.  Music helped to take her away from the seedy side of the street and transport her to right side of the tracks.  Tonight or rather this morning she just wanted quiet; and heat.  Arriving at her place Shaniqua stops at her mail box, box 335 third row fifth from the left.  Too busy yesterday to check her mail she now sorts through the few envelopes pulled from the box.  There are two envelopes addressed with or current resident, one coupon flier for the local burger joint and one envelope goldenrod in color addressed to Bertha Thompson.  Shaniqua drops the junk mail in to the trash receptacle provided by the apartment complex.  There are two of the trash cans, one on either side of the bank of mail boxes in hopes of a cleaner entry hall.  Pocketing the envelope for Bertha Thompson, Shaniqua heads up to her apartment.  Once she has undressed, removed her make-up and prosthetics, showered in a very hot shower for what seems like a very long time, put on her winter jammies, she then sits to open her mail.

Dear Bertie,


by Lu'
01/3/13

Night walker part 2

Monday, December 31, 2012

Night walker part 2

Shaniqua got closer to the dumpster and the strange noises coming from behind it.  What was she doing, this ain't how you stay alive out here by buttin' your nose in where it don't belong she told herself.  Time and money was a waistin' while she be messin' 'round here she argued.  Unable to talk herself out of proceeding, she inched her way toward what she did not know and to what she did know, it involved most assuredly blood.  The sounds coming from behind the dumpster reminded Shaniqua of her three brothe'rs lip smackin' and gnawing at whatever they Ma put on the table.  Shaniqua just about jumped right out of her high heels as she heard a car horn blare.  Street noises don't usually faze her, they were too familiar.  With all her attention focused on what lay just around the steel, paint chipped, odoriferous behemoth of a dumpster now directly in front of her, she was caught off gaurd.  Her heart quickens when she shines the light around the corner, slowly, as if a theatre curtain opening for a performance.  The heart beats increasing in speed and intensity as the curtain of light broadens.  Just as she thinks her heart can beat no faster the scene playing out before her seems to slow in motion.  She feels as though her heart will beat right out of her ample chest.  With the back of the dumpster now dimly lit by the light of  her flashlight she sees hair, lots of hair.  The hair not matted in blood looks to be brown.  The smacking and gnawing stops as four shining eyes become fixed upon her.  Shaniqua looking from the eyes to the hair to the eyes again then back to the hair widens her view taking in more of the picture before her.  Disgust fills her, fills her so much that her stomach heaves from its weight.  The eyes once fixated briefly on her now return to their meal.  Shaniqua back stepped back from the dumpster saddened by the carnage before her.  Her perception of time returns to normal.  She is relieved not to have found the owner of the leopard pump being devoured but saddened to see this literally is a dog eat dog world she lives in.

Shaniqua emerges from the alley still disgusted but no longer retching.  She attempts to clean the blood and slime from her heels on snow piled at the alley's entrance.  Damn! it be cold out here and I ain't but made one trick all night.  I gots to get busy.  It is nearly midnight; a light snow begins to fall.  She heads back to her corner, the corner of heartache and broken dreams.  Wiping a tear from her cheek she thinks, what happened to the ho what be wearin' that shoe...

by Lu'
12/31/12