VIII. LIFE & DEATH IN THE PINEAPPLE FIELDS
.
THE DARKEST PLACE ON OAHU
BUT THERE ARE DARKER PLACES
How Holly Might Have Met Her Maker And Kris's Demons
(Part Eight; Part One is HERE.)
Kris & Holly had Christmas dinner at Sippies. Just hot turkey sandwiches, with ice cream for dessert, but good. For a homeless crack whore and a troubled loner taxi-driver type, about as good as it gets. People didn't usually talk to either one of them, much. Nor did they wish to talk, to most people. But here they both were, chattering away, and loving it, apparently. There was no way it could end well.
They finished up their Christmas dinner and headed for Kris's cab. All the tryptophan in the turkey and the ice cream was beginning to hit Holly. Kris was feeling wired with all the coffee he'd drunk. He opened the front passenger door for Holly and helped her in. He gave her a flask of sweet fruity brandy from his glove compartment and she drained it in two seconds. He tilted the Cadillac's big soft comfortable leather seat way back, and Holly settled into it sleepily. Kris went around to the driver's side door and got in.
Kris put some soft jazz on the radio, the kind that would knock anybody out. He turned the car's heater on low, and directed all the warm air at Holly's feet, letting it rise around her. He cracked his own window to get some cool air on his own face. As he pulled out of the parking lot and headed out of town, Holly began to snore softly. The poor girl really didn't get enough sleep. Everything was working out perfectly.
There was almost no traffic on the H-1 or the H-2, headed up to the pineapple fields. Kris knew a very quiet spot up there where anything could happen. Tonight was the night, finally. And Holly was the girl.
All those weird dreams and strange thoughts he'd been having ever since he'd met Holly started swirling around in Kris's head, coalescing into something wild and terrible. He could do anything he wanted to the slight young girl sleeping peacefully right next to him. No one would ever know. No one would ever care. Except Kris.
Could he do this? What if he were caught, somehow? Would it be worth it? He would have to make it worth it. An hour or two's pleasure for a lifetime of suffering. Anyway, it was her destiny. He'd given her a chance to change her ways, to clean up her act. She'd laughed at him, going all "Local" and devil-may-care. Well, it turned out the Devil did care. And he was driving this cab up to the loneliest place in the world, in the dark of night.
Holly slept on. There were actually visions of sugarplums dancing in her head. Sugarplum fairies, like in "The Nutcracker," her all-time favorite holiday show. Her mother used to play it for her every year on the VCR. When she was eight, they started going to see the live performances at the Plaistell every Christmas. It was a rare moment with her mother, away from her father. Mom wouldn't get beaten up at the ballet, and Holly wouldn't get raped. A rare moment when they could be almost a normal mother and daughter. Something to dream about.
Holly woke up suddenly. The car had stopped. Everything was dark. There was no one and nothing around, and no sounds. Except for a shovel, digging up the earth. Holly got up blearily and opened the car door. The interior light came on, and the warning gong started bonging. She couldn't see anything by the car's interior light. The full moon was gone tonight, and the skies were pitch-dark. Millions of stars were scattered across the icy black tropical skies, all the way down to the horizons. The digging sound had stopped.
"Kris?"
Holly turned all around, but she couldn't see anything except the lighted interior of the car. It was blinding her, so she shut the door. It locked automatically behind her. She began to look for Kris, trying to adjust her eyes to the almost absolute darkness. Someone struck a match and she turned toward the sound. The light blinded her. And then everything went dark.
[ PART NINE copyright 2008 Cosa Nostradamus.]
.
.
IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM YOUR BLOGGERS:
SUPPORT OUR TROOPS: BRING THEM ALL HOME ALIVE, NOW!
THE DARKEST PLACE ON OAHU
BUT THERE ARE DARKER PLACES
How Holly Might Have Met Her Maker And Kris's Demons
(Part Eight; Part One is HERE.)
Kris & Holly had Christmas dinner at Sippies. Just hot turkey sandwiches, with ice cream for dessert, but good. For a homeless crack whore and a troubled loner taxi-driver type, about as good as it gets. People didn't usually talk to either one of them, much. Nor did they wish to talk, to most people. But here they both were, chattering away, and loving it, apparently. There was no way it could end well.
They finished up their Christmas dinner and headed for Kris's cab. All the tryptophan in the turkey and the ice cream was beginning to hit Holly. Kris was feeling wired with all the coffee he'd drunk. He opened the front passenger door for Holly and helped her in. He gave her a flask of sweet fruity brandy from his glove compartment and she drained it in two seconds. He tilted the Cadillac's big soft comfortable leather seat way back, and Holly settled into it sleepily. Kris went around to the driver's side door and got in.
Kris put some soft jazz on the radio, the kind that would knock anybody out. He turned the car's heater on low, and directed all the warm air at Holly's feet, letting it rise around her. He cracked his own window to get some cool air on his own face. As he pulled out of the parking lot and headed out of town, Holly began to snore softly. The poor girl really didn't get enough sleep. Everything was working out perfectly.
There was almost no traffic on the H-1 or the H-2, headed up to the pineapple fields. Kris knew a very quiet spot up there where anything could happen. Tonight was the night, finally. And Holly was the girl.
All those weird dreams and strange thoughts he'd been having ever since he'd met Holly started swirling around in Kris's head, coalescing into something wild and terrible. He could do anything he wanted to the slight young girl sleeping peacefully right next to him. No one would ever know. No one would ever care. Except Kris.
Could he do this? What if he were caught, somehow? Would it be worth it? He would have to make it worth it. An hour or two's pleasure for a lifetime of suffering. Anyway, it was her destiny. He'd given her a chance to change her ways, to clean up her act. She'd laughed at him, going all "Local" and devil-may-care. Well, it turned out the Devil did care. And he was driving this cab up to the loneliest place in the world, in the dark of night.
Holly slept on. There were actually visions of sugarplums dancing in her head. Sugarplum fairies, like in "The Nutcracker," her all-time favorite holiday show. Her mother used to play it for her every year on the VCR. When she was eight, they started going to see the live performances at the Plaistell every Christmas. It was a rare moment with her mother, away from her father. Mom wouldn't get beaten up at the ballet, and Holly wouldn't get raped. A rare moment when they could be almost a normal mother and daughter. Something to dream about.
Holly woke up suddenly. The car had stopped. Everything was dark. There was no one and nothing around, and no sounds. Except for a shovel, digging up the earth. Holly got up blearily and opened the car door. The interior light came on, and the warning gong started bonging. She couldn't see anything by the car's interior light. The full moon was gone tonight, and the skies were pitch-dark. Millions of stars were scattered across the icy black tropical skies, all the way down to the horizons. The digging sound had stopped.
"Kris?"
Holly turned all around, but she couldn't see anything except the lighted interior of the car. It was blinding her, so she shut the door. It locked automatically behind her. She began to look for Kris, trying to adjust her eyes to the almost absolute darkness. Someone struck a match and she turned toward the sound. The light blinded her. And then everything went dark.
[ PART NINE copyright 2008 Cosa Nostradamus.]
.
.
Labels: addict, blues, Chinatown, christmas, cocaine, crack, downtown, driver, hawaii, ho, holiday, Honolulu, prostitute, story, street, taxi, underage, Waikiki, whore, Xmas
TO POST A COMMENT: CLICK ON "COMMENTS," "Post a Comment" or "# of COMMENTS" just below the SOCIAL BOOKMARKING LINKS (Digg, Delicious, etc), about three inches down from here. Please do comment. Thank you.
IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM YOUR BLOGGERS:
Suggestion Box & Tip Jar We would like to make over this blog to make it easier to access, to read and to comment on. We would also like to serve our readers better by providing more of what you need and want to see. All serious suggestions will be considered. We hope to move to our own domain in the near future, and we would like to ask for your financial assistance in doing that, and in upgrading our hardware & software. Small one-time donations and larger long-term subscriptions are welcome. Exclusive advertising is also available. If you think we are wasting our time in doing all this, please let us know. If you wish to help us, now is the time. As always, negative bullsh*t from right-wing trolls will be sh*tcanned. Thank you to everyone else. Please send feedback & PayPal contributions to cosanostradamusATexciteDOTcom. Thanks.
SUPPORT OUR TROOPS: BRING THEM ALL HOME ALIVE, NOW!
posted by Cosa Nostradamus @ 12/31/2008 12:02:00 AM
View blog reactions
2 Comments:
As you said there at the top of the chapter, "There was no way it could end well."
Ouch! Cliffhanging....
And anyway, the shoveling might be for something innocent, like.....I don't know, perhaps Kris is digging for buried treasure... or he wants to plant some pineapple trees... or...
Post a Comment
<< Home