Be My Guest / Spreading The Love / Week 4 / Day 5
sounds shared by Sara Pooley
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! - Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!
[ pinion ]
Original words by Brandon Fields
Sacraments [ pt. 5 ]
Cobble stone, Palmetto Groves, marshland, tide pools and the Atlantic Ocean. The list of historical relics listed in the tourism pamphlet was plenty. It was more so the nearby attractions like Folly Beach and Sullivan’s Island that got him to settle on Charleston. It was only an hour away to lands end so fuck it. Beach houses, bikinis and thoughts of a warm meal had him pushing 90mph and he made Charleston just as the streets started buzzing. The humid, salty air brought the scent of multiple menus in the breeze pushing down the antiquated streets. People plugging doorways of sushi joints, steak houses and cigar shops, bartering laughs for a smoke or a lite. Polo shirts and white banana republic shorts above the knee spoke platitudes about the locals, proud of their town and proud of their heritage. The visitors of the town stood out amongst the many by the looks in their eyes that spoke widely of not knowing the inside joke around them.
This was definitely a tight knit town, and it was soon to be found that after a few drinks the sentiments would become widely known. A group of couples came around the corner and started walking in front of him. As he casually strolled at the adopted pace he caught some of their comments about so many tourists and northerners taking over the town and how, the men, wanted to kick the shit out of all of them. It didn’t take long to notice that if someone didn’t recognize you, they paid you little attention. Even when he was being served his food at the Swamp Fox restaurant their was little effort made to keep his glass full, while the servers played and joked around with their other tables, faithfully bringing the drinks at last drop.
Oddly enough this made him feel calm. He could go about his business without being seen or asked anything, something he has been dreaming of for along time. His aching stomach begged for food no. Fried green tomatoes Atlantic salmon and She crab soup. An unfamiliar menu and even the beer list brought excitement. Being alone and unknown would have once been a scary thought to him even just months ago. Everything has changed. He just wanted to get away from Detroit, away from the Midwest and away from her.
The last he saw her she was sitting at a bar stool with some fuck. At his bar! The bar he use to go to before he met her, that he brought her to and now, the bar he left her at. It had been a year since they first met, and just two weeks prior he got a call. She was panicked and freaking out and wouldn’t tell him why. She was crying and breathing heavy and nothing made any sense. She hung up on him, and he tried to go find her, but she wasn’t any place where she would logically be, so he gave up. He hadn’t seen or heard from her till that night. When he walked in and she turned to glace at the door at who might be coming in, smiling that smile she uses when she is trying really hard. He froze for a second, but then quickly through himself back out the door and into his truck. He called his buddy and told him what was going on, and he told him all that he knew was that he saw her a few days ago at the convenient store buying booze with some friends but he hadn’t approached her.
Holding a ring box in his left hand, he now stood in the middle of the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge stretching across the Bay. He took it out, played with the Diamond between his fingers a few times and closed his eyes. Everything was running through his head at a slower pace now. He thought about the fact that all the money in his pockets came from selling and moving pounds of meth and heroin across the border and into Canada where it would go to Toronto and Montreal. He remembered the fact that he bought that ring with the money he had gotten from the last shipment. He remembered the night she walked in to a party and saw him kissing on some girl’s neck. Some girl he had met that night. He could still hear her scream at him as he chased her down the stair and into the street. He anxiously went out and bought that ring the very next day, hoping that she would be by to pick up her stuff from his place and he would persuade her to stay. It was all too late.
The temporary choices he made became longer than temporary, and the life caught up with him. After he told the guys he was working for that he was out and that he needed a change, it didn’t go so well. The way the conversation went he suspected a price on his head and any day he could be facing them. He had lost everything. All he was s bag of cash, the truck that carried him south and that ring. He slid the ring back into the box and put it back in his pocket. Walking back to his truck he pulled the Atlas out to see where he would head next. The pamphlet he had gotten marked his place and he looked at it again looking for places to sleep along the road. He found a campsite on Johns Island. After some driving he came along some back roads that led him down a tree-lined path. After making a left turn onto the dirt toad he noticed a sign up ahead he could barely make out. Angel Oak 2 miles.