Top of Form
She's dancing, moving slowly, but gradually picking up speed. She's young, 20s maybe, and beautiful, all moving curves, fluid grace.
A young girl, maybe four, standing at the door, playing, singing softly.
A man, a little older than the dancer, whispering to the girl, grabbing her.
She's dancing faster now, eyes closed, hands above her head, lost in the motion.
The girl screams.
The woman slaps him, furious.
He has a knife. The woman is screaming, holding her child. Her screams stop.
OOOOOO
His eyes flash open, blue-gray dimmed to nearly black, his chest heaving, drenched in sweat. The young man groans and rolls over onto his stomach, pulling his pillow up over his head, but sits up a moment later. He stands, pulling on a black sweatshirt but staying in his boxers, these gray. At the table, he taps a finger on the paper there, and then turns away. It's a song, fragmented and half-formed.
Dance now
Don't pay heed
Daddy's friends
Oh, watch for her
"Ugh, it's crap." He moves back to his bed, running a hand through the black hair. The bed creaks ominously as he drops onto it again, exhausted, trying to find sleep.
OOOOOO
"Hey kid, we got a customer!" The young man rolls his eyes, brushing his hair back again. He nods at the old man, and hurries up to the counter.
"How can I help you?" The customer's a woman with a little boy on each hand, and her eyes widen slightly as he flashes her a smile.
"Um..." He absently fingers one of his belts, part of his black leather jacket, sighing. "We'll have two bubble gum flavors, and one mint chocolate chip. Make that a double scoop." He nods and bends to scoop the ice cream, not bothering to try out another smile that's doomed to fail. The boys begin chattering at their mother, begging for a double scoop, and wanting to know if they could get a movie. The boy on the right shoots a look at the young man as he hands the mother two bubble gum ice creams. A moment later, as he hands her the double scoop, the little boy pipes up.
"Mommy...? He's scary!" The young man's eyebrows shoot up, and he glances down at himself. Black leather pants, black leather jacket, white t-shirt, boots, belts, fishnet sleeves...what's not to love? The mother blushes red as he looks back up.
"I'm sorry. Come on, Timothy, say you're sorry." The boy's shoulders sag.
"Sorry..." he mutters.
"It's all right. Here..." The young man reaches out and drops a small handful of sprinkles on the boy's cone, and then on his brother's, just as the second boy's mouth opens. Both boys grin at him, and the mother look torn between relief and shock. She shoots him a nervous, stressed smile, and hurries out with the boys in tow.
OOOOOO
"Jason." The young man turns back at the sidewalk's edge, waiting. The old man is watching him from the doorway.
"Why do you work here, son?" His faded blue eyes take in the young man's clothes, though he's almost smiling. Jason smiles slightly.
"Same reason I did yesterday, Mr. Kent." The hold man shakes his head and then flaps a hand at him.
"You'd better get home then. It's late," he says, completing their nightly routine. Jason smiles and climbs onto his motorcycle and roars off.
Three blocks down he slams to a halt at a stop sign, staring up it. Perched atop it is a crow, charcoal black but sleek as shoe polish. Jason smiles slightly, though it doesn't seem to reach his eyes, which are curious.
"You're here." The crow cocks its head at him and caws loudly, and then takes flight, heading left down the cross street. With a roar of his engine, the young man takes off after it, somehow almost knowing where to go.
He reaches an alleyway about ten minutes later and pulls in, stopping about ten feet from a dumpster. The crow is perched on top, and it caws as he turns off the bike's engine. For a moment he just stares at the dumpster, thinking about his dream. This alley looks familiar. He swings himself down off of his bike, setting the kickstand, and takes a step closer.
Both lids to the dumpster slam open, sending the crow up in a flurry of black feathers, cawing loudly. Out of the garbage, still covered in various pieces of trash, mostly paper, a woman rises. She's completely suspended, arms stretched out wide, head bowed forward.
The moment passes, and she falls, sliding back into the garbage. Jason stares, recognizing her from his dream, and somehow not surprised at all. A moment later he starts as a hand grabs the edge of the dumpster. A second hand joins it, and the woman lifts herself up out of the trash, leaning forward over the edge. She falls, flipping over and landing on her back on the cold cement surrounded by debris. When she doesn't move, the young man bends down beside her, and carefully picks her up.
