Martin laughed, “Daniel? Heavens no. Daniel’s too pure. He left the church because he can’t stand to think that God loves him the best, which is what his mother drilled into him, because it means God loves the others less. The murderers, the rapists, the homeless. You get the picture? God, in other words, is a prejudicial old duffer who plays favorites. Isn’t that right, Daniel?”
From “The Mask of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe, illustration by Harry Clarke
“They poured out innocent blood, the blood of their sons and daughters, whom they sacrificed to the idols of Canaan; and the land was polluted with blood. Thus they become unclean by their acts, and played the harlot in their doings…”
Martin clapped his hands together, “Bravo, old man, we’re all sooooo impressed that you’ve memorized the entire Bible. But, we’ve come to see the lady of the house and not to be saved….”
Renwick Ruin on Roosevelt Island, NYC. If this place isn’t haunted, there is no such thing as ghosts.
“What’s going on?” Marcia stood in the doorway of the bedroom dressed only in a man’s white dress shirt, her strawberry blonde hair like a fine spider web about her face, a flannel bathrobe over her shoulders like folded wings.
“Bitchen,” The albino snorted, clapping his hands together, “Now you’re talking.”
“Martin…” Marcia began, affecting her hostage negotiator tone.
The albino took a step towards her. “Hi Honey. I would you like ten thousand dollars?”
“Marcia, Luv, I ran into this bloke at Ritchie’s. He’s just cut a record for Capital records. He just wants a good lay and he’ll pay…”
“Sweet Jesus!” gasped the Catholic’s daughter.
The albino turned and hissed at her. “Shut up you fucking virgins.”
“I’m not a virgin!”
“Well, of course you’re not. Look at you sweetie. You’re so horny you’d fuck a pole!”
“I think you’re disgusting!”
“Don’t worry, bitch. I don’t ball stupid little girlies anyway!” He turned back towards Marcia. “So, what do you say, Blondie? You look like someone who knows the score.”
Marcia calmly turned towards Martin. “Get this guy out of here.”
“But Jamie has just signed a record contract, Luv. He’s going be famous someday.”
“Get him out of here.”
“Come on, Marcia, ten thousand dollars,” Martin urged.
“Not for a million dollars!”
“That does it,” the albino spun toward the door. “There are plenty of bitches in this town who won’t give me this kind of shit!”
“Wait, Jamie…” Martin tried to hold him but the albino twisted free and then stomped down the stairs.
Okay – you’re almost to the end. If you’ve made it thus far, thank you kindly for sticking with it. Tomorrow the climax and then a conclusion you may not see coming (at least I hope not).
You can read from the beginning here.