“Wat yoo hafta be worried foh, worst already happened ta yoo Pyar, no?”
Pierre slouches in a wooden chair, pensively staring at the handkerchief Dean places at the opposite end on the table. Dean rolls a confident smile across his face, unraveling the handkerchief to reveal giblets of bones. Pierre’s expression becomes frantic, “Da meeting went dat bad Dean? Wat haf yoo dun?”
“Reelax. Dees ar jus zeeken bones”, Dean holds up a drumette bone and peels away the cartilage on the nub of the chicken wing. Pierre’s shoulders slouch in relief, “Thought da worst foh da moment dere.”
“Nah brotha trust me, I was in no danja today.”
Pierre frowns. “Shame she was not wat yoo hoped foh. We could use moh talent desperately.”
Dean throws the bone onto the table and selects another giblet. “Thas jus it Pyar, talent. We need talent. We don’ need handicaps, liabilities, moh trouble dan useful.”
“But da war… could she not haf even been an expendable pawn? A sacrificial lamb…”
“I could not do dat ta Zeal, she was too wide eyed an’ innocent. Wud be like puttin’ a child in da line o fire. Wud ya do dat an’ live, well, deal wit yorself aftah?”
Pierre glares at his brother, “Yoo won’ get much sympathy from me.”
“I expected not. As foh our numbah o troops in da war, I haf sent Lyssa ta da States ta pursue sum talent.”
“Ar yoo sure about dis contact in da States?”, Pierre folds his arms skeptically.
“I haf a good notion dat our interests ar on a similar level”, Dean holds a half eaten chicken wing over a candle. The scent of roasted chicken is faint compared to the putrid odor of the trash barrel the bones were retrieved from. Pierre scratches his head, “Why Lyssa? Wudn’ it been easiah ta send a spirit ta meet yoh mutual interest?”
“Ar ya volunteerin’? ‘Not dat easy ta negotiate wit ghosts, as yoo well kno”, Dean bites into the remaining skin on the bone, now warm but undercooked. He continues while chewing, “…yoo know like Zeal, ends up thinkin’ she’s moh gifted dan she is. Either dat, or too spooked ta reply.”
“But sendin’ away some of our strength…”
“We ar safe foh da time being. Dey ar also too busy lookin’ fer talent, dis I know.”
“I wud still tayk caution,” Pierre stands, “don’ give dem a chance ta catch ya off guard.”
“Yoo ar wise brotha, always wer. I fully intend ta keep ma place a sanctuary.” Dean approaches the door to his shack, retrieving chalk from a bookcase on the way. He recites some words while drawing various symbols on the door. He continues around the room, sketching cryptic chalk marks symmetrically. He looks to Pierre, “Fraid I mus ask ya ta leave.”
Pierre looks back over his shoulder, his essence becoming foggy. He waves a fading hand, “Understood, already gon’. Til’ next time brotha.” The wall behind Pierre offers him no resistance as he passes through, leaving a rolling steam of cold that dissipates in the humid Jamaican air. Dean mutters to himself, “Dere goes ma air conditioning.”
#
Stupid. So stupid. Jill pouts in the airport with her carry-on bag beside her. Why did she come to Jamaica looking for someone she never met? Why did she listen to a message from a ghost? She cannot wait to leave, she wants to be home and put this behind her, all of it. She looks at her protection amulet Dean taunted her for. Some protection this was. Pssh. She gets to her feet and approaches the nearest trash bin. Jill parts with her amulet in frustration, and she seeks a coffee from a nearby vendor. She examines the “Departures” board, next flight to London commencing boarding in three minutes. She had better get down to the terminal. She takes a dozen fast steps before she hears, “Scuse me miss!”
Jill pivots impatiently to an elderly bald custodian lurching over the trash barrel. Holding up her amulet as if he has caught a large fish, he smiles a toothless grin, “Ya not thinkin’ o travellin’ without protection, ar’ ya?”
EDIT NOTE : here is the early installment of this story
http://jaythurston.blogspot.com/2010/01/protection-amulet-3-word-wednesday-jolt.html
Nicely done. Loved the ending.
ReplyDeleteLast line was the first dialogue I understood ;)
ReplyDeleteI had to put myself in Jamaica to listen to the dialogue, but that is not a bad thing. And the ending is just right.
ReplyDeleteYou built tension and atmosphere very well. Reading the dialect took some deciphering. Funny, cause I keep trying to decide if once in the story, if you could switch to something more readable, or if that would change the atmosphere and lose someting. Jury is still out on that one.
ReplyDeleteWould make a great discussion topic.
I like your characters and wonder about poor Jill.
Fine story - it moves well and keeps working.
ReplyDeleteinteresting story...
ReplyDeleteHere is my 3WW post!
I was so glad someone was giving her the amulet back right before she boarded the plane, Sheesh, what was she thinking???
ReplyDeleteThank you all for the feedback.
ReplyDeleteAnthony, Tumblewords and Gautami - I am glad you enjoyed.
Dee - Yes, one can never be too safe on planes these days.
Stan - Sorry if the dialogue was cumbersome.
Thom - Sorry also if it came across difficult, I was trying to capture the Jamaican feel. Of course in hindsight, it could have used a few "mons" as a tail to some of the dialogue.
Peggy - Thank you, the choice on speech was to add flavor to the atmosphere. I thought about writing it "un-Jamaicanized" but I felt it may not come across as an authentic conversation and it may paint the scene a bit differently. I am glad to hear you liked the characters. If I do continue this string with Dean and Jill, in a future Wednesday, I may try to go easier on the "Jamaicanizing" to compare against this installment.