AN: Hey Everybody! For everyone who likes my story, thank you for bearing with me and my crazy drama filled life. It means so much to me. I don't even... I love you guys and all i can say is that hopefully from now on updates will be more regular. (weekly or monthly) its a short chapter but all i have in me for now. Enjoy!
Chapter 2: Dawn then Dusk
8.00 AM. June 25 1925.
[ well, a bright and sunny morning to everyone, listening in on this ab-so-lute-ly glorious twenty fifth of June... ]
Sashes of bright sunlight dapple on the rustic iron bed and the blown-wood floor beside it through the open window. The occasional breeze billows through the two worn, cream colored drapes that hang on either side of it, and tickle the heads of the still green haired dandelions that layer the long flowerpot that runs along the length of the window. Their wilted heads dip and sway with the rhythmic undercurrent as it wafts past them and into the cold room.
Signs of recent habitation are scattered across the room, though it seems quite empty now.
Portraits and paintings of landscapes line every inch of the peeling beige-grey wallpaper that covers the brown-wood walls. Well, portraits, paintings and swiped posters of recently released movies that seem to have apparently caught the owners fancy. Posters ranging from a vintage hand-drawn version of 'Ben-Hur' and a printed copy of the recently released 'Lost World' to a torn and tattered poster of Charlie Chaplin's 'Gold Rush' and a ripped-off cover of the little handbook they distribute when they screenFrench shorts in the theater down the street.
A large-framed photograph, hangs directly in front of the door.
For all intents and purposes, it seems a family portrait. In it stand two men and a brown haired woman holding a small bundle that could only ever be a baby. The man on the left has cropped dark hair and darker skin and wore a dapper suit and has his arm round the other man's shoulder. His smile had a kind air to it and his eyes seem to twinkle somewhat mischievously. The second man, sandwiched between the man on the left and the woman next to him, scowls at the camera. His face -what little of it that's visible from under the shadow of the wide brimmed hat that matched the neat tuxedo he wore- was fairer skinned and seemed uneasy, almost agitated, as if his mood was permanently in a state of flux. His hand gripped the fingers of the man standing beside him.
The woman stood a few paces to the right, detached from the casual intimacy the two men displayed. Her hair was brown and short, combed down to hug her neck and curve into the contours of her face. Her clothes were drab and neat. A white apron thrown around her waist. She held the tightly wrapped bundle of pale cloth close to her chest.
[ ...You're listening to KLAR. Broadcasting at a happy, healthy 500 watts... ]
The announcers voice rises like warm smoke from the Radio-Box that sat with its lid flipped open on the small mauve bedside table that sat next to the bed. It's obsidian-red dials glitter in the sunlight as the announcer blares onwards.
Muffled voices echo from the staircase beyond the whitewashed door.
"Morning mom, is Rachel around?"
"Let me guess.." A muffled yawn reaches the room through the closed door, "Did you check in her room? she should probably be up by now."
[ ...And, because we just know you've been waiting on the edge of your seat this past month... ]
Beside the family portrait hangs a smaller framed photo of two women. Both of them sport brown hair. the shorter of the two lets it hang in waves below her neck, strands blown into her face from the large industrial fan behind them. She is laughing into the camera, her windswept hair caressing her deep dimples and her crinkled eyelids as she squeezed them shut. The woman beside her stood smiling, supporting her friend with an arm around her waist, most probably holding her up. Her oriental features casting an almost exotic appeal on her. Pasted onto the bottom of the frame is a small piece of paper with a caption scribbled on it in small letters. 'First time on stage with Tina'
[ ...Here it is! Without further ado... ]
"Rachel, Aki wants to see you 'bout something... Rachel? "
Tina's voice sounds insistently from right behind the door.
[ ...We bring you the complete, four hour marathon version... ]
"All right you bum! I'm opening the door, so cover up!"
The glass encrusted doorknob jitters a little before twisting smoothly and clicking open. Tina waits a few moments before pushing it open and stepping inside.
"Rachel?"
Her eyes are suddenly wide with worry as her gaze surveys the empty room and finally comes to rest on the impeccably-made bed.
"Her bed doesn't seem slept in."
Akiko provides as she steps inside from behind Tina. The morning sunlight casts their shadows ominously on the floor and staircase behind them.
[ ...Of American Grain's dramatic production of William Bunting's cult classic tale of high seas, amazing thrills and the quintessential pirate quest... ]
Enveloped in the silence, Tina could only shake her head, no.
[ ... Bad Blood! ]
Somewhere in the Mojave desert...
The parched desert sand sticks to her face like a second skin. A burning sensation has nested deep within her, like the embers of a long dead fire eating away at the deep cartilage of her throat. She could not tell if her eyelids even worked any more, or if she'd gone blind. Everything was black.
Rachel wonders whether this was what death feels like.
An then, like a hyacinth at dawn, sound blooms into her mind.
Wind.
Just... so much wind whipping at her that she feels it reverberating through the hollows of her bones and up directly into her skull
She opens her mouth, parched as it is, and tries to call out, shout, scream... say anything at all. What comes out is a wheezy rattling sound.
And then she starts to cough, violently like there's a ball of maggots stuck in her trachea that've come alive now that she's breathing again, and maybe there is, Rachel doesn't know, lord knows she doesn't care. She just doubles over and coughs and retches out whatever it is before laying back down on the soft mass she's been laying on.
Her eyelids feel gummy and sticky and seem to be glued shut at the seams.
Somewhere in the depths of her brain, a timid silent voice wonders whether her body is purging itself of all moisture, because even as parched as her throat feels, she doesn't at all feel thirsty.
With that thought rattling inside her brain, Rachel Berry forces her eyes open.
And then she screams.
She's lying on what seems like a sea of decomposing bodies. Faces stare up at her as she swivels her head left and right, decaying worm-eaten skulls with deep hollows where carrion had been picked clean, stare up at her.
And then as if jolted by her erratic movements, her nose decides to start working.
The stench of death and decay is overpowering.
She turns and squeezing her eyes shut, retches what little is left inside her.
She tries not to think about whose body - hell, even whose face, she might be hurling her gall bladder out on.
"Well, aren't you up early?"
Rachel whirls around, her body slips off its perch and she lands with a wet slap on a brunette laying a few feet below. The thought springs up on her mind that there were piles of CORPSES, all women thrown into this chasm of hell.
"There there Dolly, don't exert yourself. Ease into it. Let it come naturally."
Rachel looks up.
There, sitting on a redhead laying a few feet away is the blond woman from last night.
"What... Who?.. why?"
The woman stands up and dusts herself off nonchalantly. Rachel's eyes roll from the wan sunlight glimmering off her hair to the tattered hunting jacket on her shoulder to the blood crusted soles of her brown suede shoes.
The woman tilts her head to the side and looks at Rachel, almost like a raven at dusk's last light.
The flecks of green in her hazel eyes seem to contract, and then expand to the point that two unearthly orbs of luminescent forest green stare down at her from where her eyes should have been.
A little voice in the back of Rachel's mind is screaming for her to 'Run run RUN!'
Rachel stares.
The woman stretches, her hands raised high behind her back. Then her mouth opens in a yawn, and a thin, almost serpentine tongue slips out and wets her lips. When it closes again her lower lip is framed by fangs that reach almost half the height of her jaw.
The woman smiles.
"Dolly, I did warn you that old B.D's parties aren't any fun at all"
Sânge Rău
Chapter 2: Blood
July 26 1930 - Somewhere off the northern coast of Ireland.
Santana Lopez hates Irish weather.
The wind that blows from the far sea flings and tosses her hair and the rain freezes deep into her clothes and vision doesn't count for shite with the overcast that wreaths the sky.
But nobody cares what Santana likes or dislikes do they?
If the world gave the slightest damn about what Santana liked she wouldn't be here camped in a ramshackle shack in the butt end of north Ireland.
"Darling, get inside! The wind will blow you clear off the rocks!" Brittany screams from behind her.
A small smile twists on Santana's lips.
"I'll be back in a minute!" With a clawed hand she pushes back her hair. "Put the kettle on, We've got visitors!"
Through the rain she can make out a small rowboat with two passengers make its way from the mainland.
"Neck or thigh Darling?" Brittany's voice carries even through the rain and when Santana turns to look, she's opened the little kitchen window and leaning out of it.
"Neck... And close that window, You'll wet your hair, It'll take ages to dry, You know this!"
Santana turns and perches on a rock overlooking the small jetty that is the only way in or out of her slice of paradise.
The sound of a man screaming in pain erupts from within the hut only to be silenced in a moment.
The rowboat meanders its way into the jetty and a hulking man gets up and shakes himself like a dog. Its other occupant throws a plank in between and scurries out to tie the boat to the stump set into the rocks.
The giant stops him with an outstretched hand.
"Leave it, Liam. Go back to the mainland and get a room for yourself in the clover." His voice is gravelly, and vacant.
The smaller man grabs what seems to be a small pouch from the giant's outstretched hand and jumps back into the boat. The giant watches the boat until it's lost into the rain and dawn mist. Then he turns and nods to Santana.
"Santana."
She nods back.
"Finn"
The man looks around.
"Where is Brittany?"
Santana smiles.
"Inside. With dinner."
Finn smiles. and then frowns.
"Criminal again?"
Santana is grinning, rows of sharp little teeth edging out under her lips.
"Attempted rapist"
Finn grimaces.
"It's better than nothing. Shall we go inside?"
Santana simply turns and walks swiftly toward her little hut. Finn keeps up with easy strides.
"What urgent business do you have to come all the way here Finn?"
Finn looks at her. His answer is immediate, almost as if he knew before she asked.
"We need to decide what to do about our mutual friend, Quinn Fabray."