Electra’s dictionary & Film Noir/a ravishing touch on the man with the vampire eyes; a short (edjmmusechron)

 

it seems now they wait for others to show ....I leave the cage to be alone while Jörn and Willem stand there watching the monitors as they discuss.... going over details about everyone in the barn house

hatching their strategy  

.... but I’m just no good with anxiety ....

I think to find calm 

I go down to the underground to the kitchen area. I go to sit at the table which is attached to the booth that looks as though it was salvaged from an old diner coffee shop from the 1940’s; the strange shade of orange upholstery and the table framed in chrome 

I pull up my legs to sit sideways and lean against the inner wall.... thinking to distract myself with some illusion of normalcy ....by looking at what is going on in the world via my phone apps. But ....it seems to only make it all worse, 

but then, is this so surprising....no, not at all.... 

besides the usual 2020 sick hangover, how’s some new threats of war, shootings, ugly and bitter global politicians cooking up cocktails of poisons to keep future films and video games of war and true crimes fully supplied 

....Oh that bruised emptiness that comes when something within you so desperately needs something so .... so.... intangible and obscure. but so necessary. too necessary to be able to ignore ....nor deny. because it presses so real and so heavy. it chokes

so I remove from all this ....remove .... to the place separate within ....where nothing bad can come inside it; nothing goes in, nothing goes out; this place inside, my own underground bunker with its own encoded lock that never lets. anything. in. unseen and invincible because nothing reveals it is there at all. Invisible....invincible 

wrapped neatly in words 

throwing out meaning. in messages; throwing out messages in its own Morse codes ....and write into my phone, lose myself for hours in my words ....until I forget the fear that threatens to overwhelm me

And so it is only the sound, that deliberate sound of a scrape of a boot sole that pulls me free of my thoughts and I look up and see Jörn standing in the doorway leading into the room I sit in ....and sense he has been there awhile

At first he does nothing. He just stands there watching me. The baseball cap now gone and perhaps it is just the way his sleeves are pulled up past his forearms and how the jeans he still wears now rest lower on his hips that causes me to see him as himself again

 ....and glad of this .... as the ice that has clung to me for so long now seems to melt away by just this sight of him now like this and the way his eyes look at me. that way. And then without a word, he walks over and sits down at the table facing me

for awhile we just sit there and just look at each other and don’t say anything. we don’t say anything. but it feels like we say so many things.... 

and after a while of this he reaches for my hand but only speaks with his eyes ....and then closes both his hands around the one he holds, still watching me.... and because I feel the sweeping ache to grip him, slide my fingers through his and the warmth spreads into me.... and then he smiles and he presses his mouth to the back of my hand and says,

“I’ve missed your eyes.”

game noir for the cowboys

I wait inside the cage and watch the monitors— only the one I watch is the monitor that has the view of what is outside the stairwell where once I had to unlock Jörn from. I know that out that way is another path that reaches the highway. It is the way the delivery trucks come, but what I now know is what only now Jörn has bothered to explain. 

This side cannot be seen from the barn house because it lets out on another street which is the other side of the highway. The angle of how the farm house is situated distorts its visibility because there is another steep hill and a group of houses that cloaks any hint of presence that a road should lead to another address, which is the basement exit at the base of the stairwell. From the outside I can see from the monitor that it looks just like a long closed up general store attached to an abandoned gasoline station. 

There’s a hill and the wooden structure of what had once been the local pump; for historic purposes, it had never been knocked down as it was protected by some law and had once been owned by the farmer whose family built the original house, so remained on the property despite the alternate street and address. It seems the architect who enjoyed building follies and hidden bunkers had a pragmatic sense of humor. 

More and more it occurs to me that Lisa’s acquiring the place for us to rent was as much of an accident as Jörn ending up with all my mail at the penthouse. 

Not for the first time I begin to realize, Jörn ‘arranges’ events that simply appear like incidentally convenient occurrences. Yes, he does play his cards carefully, down to the last detail and keeps a straight face like a professional actor while keeping the most minimal of emotional expressions from crossing his face. He chooses what he lets you see .... doesn’t he? Why does this bother me as I think about this? 

I watch him now from the monitor as he waits for Willem outside. Watch him pace across the old wood porch in his American clothes disguise ... that I do not much like on him. Now with the added Mets baseball cap —which somehow irritates me even more, along with his affected swagger and American beer ....and then I think—he’s missed his calling, he seems to like playacting ....or maybe he just misses the stage 

But then something pulls my eyes away from that monitor and I glance over at the others as I see things happening in the barn house ....it looks like the men are arguing about something .... I move to enhance the focus 

There is something going on. They are fighting now—at first I see they are shouting —two men; the big guy who I had first spotted that day in the ski mask. I recognize his body type; the thick middle and the big shoulders— he grabs the man shouting at him and throws him across the top of Jörn’s piano.... shit.... not the piano ....I shudder as I watch it happen .... and then it is chaos as another guy pulls him off and takes a swing at the man shouting and pulls out a gun, then everyone seems to get involved 

I pick up my phone and text Jörn:

<something’s going on in the barn house, they’re fighting>

I look at the monitor where Jörn is but realize Willem has arrived and have to look closer as it seems Willem too has been creative with his own disguise in a fake dark beard and a deer hunter’s jacket. I notice a Ford pickup truck and almost want to laugh at their stereotypes but then, I can’t really argue their choices. 

I look back at the barn house monitors. They have stopped fighting and now seem to be standing around looking at something on the television screen—but then— the stairwell door bursts open and I jump as Jörn and Willem step into the dungeon 

“I thought you vere joking about de bats— zeems radder creepy don’t ya think wid all about de Wuhan— hey, look, it’s Dusk,” Willem looks at me, “hoe gaat het?”

“Dusk?—hoe gaat het, Rutger Hauer,” I say back, looking at his ridiculous disguise that actually looks more like De Niro. He laughs. I turn now to say, “Jörn, did you see my text? You just missed it actually—they were having some kind of huge brawl! One guy landed on your piano, by the way but, look!—now they’re all just staring at the TV.”

Jörn looks at my text and walks over glancing up at the monitors,

“oh— they must have gotten the update....”

“Update?” I ask and look from Jörn to Willem as they exchange glances 

“FBI....” Willem says looking at me to fill me in and then adds, “I have caused your house guests some trouble —they’ve put out an APB ....only I didn’t say exactly vere dey are ‘cause, vell, ve don’t need dem sniffing around our ‘safe problem’ just yet—zo, instead our inside boys will be joining us real soon....”

driftwood

 

I fear this boat has gone adrift, without a mast and swift

lost at sea…. all purpose gone

there lies sunk with treasure, beneath a port

insignificant and forgotten 

    ….forever to cast that faded dawn 

swept beneath the waves,

like a mermaid’s dusty basement gallery 

 a crypt to lay to rest all memory….

    

  resigned to private peace

Noir Pandora’s box; so what’s in the safe, after all? (e.d.jmmusechron)

 

We reach back inside the underground 

It seems awhile that I realize I have been lost in thought.... deep inside .... somewhere within....

      not even aware that I am sat upon that strange round bed under the glass ceiling window where above the pond is.... 

    did I see it? I was not really paying attention to my surroundings ....beyond the immediate .... concerns and....

I don’t know what I think about. Maybe I flatline.... circuits blown, but then, I should be used to this as it seems drama follows me everywhere .... despite my need for otherwise. That is, a calm life with harmony .... but that has never been my lot in life, I don’t know why and so tired of blaming myself but it must be me. The more I withdraw the more it seems to irritate those who know that I even exist

and the shock of facing a rifle has eclipsed .... how much I have .... anticipated and longed for the moment of seeing .... Jörn .... and it seems I just am frozen there shaking, questioning myself over how do I seem to bring this on? and it escalates into thoughts of why it seems disaster is all I achieve even as I think I do all I can to avoid it; like my daughter that I still don’t understand how it all went against me when I love her so much, how is it possible to attract such bad fortune at every turn, I wonder as I sit there wondering why I’m being hunted down for some code I don’t hardly remember 

it all goes back to my childhood as it seems too my subconscious mind is thus so warped —and from whose loins of I was spawned from to became this identity I never chose to be.... is at liberty to reek havoc all over and through my life ...events I hardly remember ....that shaped the outcome of my life and ....will forever haunt me .... continue to destroy me.... despite all my efforts to rise above them .... I’m caught in a tangled trap of emotions I don’t even understand and hold me from release or peace 

“You got so thin.”

I look up as he comes through the partition. It seems he has made me a cup of tea

and as I take it from him ....our hands touch that way. Reminding me again of .... things. Like before. On the stairs. It was this moment when .... he always comes to me when I am in danger; when it seems it is impending disaster ....like now....

“No, it is just muscle loss from not getting out to do things like hiking —being stuck in.”

“Duva, I can feel your bones right through your skin,” he says, he reaches to run his hand over my shoulder, “are you eating?”

I recoil part from his words. I pull away and draw my legs up to me,

“sorry for being hideous to you. How did you know where I was and what were you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming, why?!”

and because he does not reply, I finally turn to look up at him

it is the look in his eyes that disarms me.... I had not expected to see that .... hurt....?

for a moment it stuns me to see that. I have to rewind in my mind whatever we just said and .... my face burns .... 

he sits down beside me.... but I become tense. I move back a few inches and when I look up at him I see his eyes react 

He says,

“I ....your phone....” he looks at me and I can see he is thinking about not what he says but something else .... “your phone; the gps.... I tracked you.... I realized you left the underground and were walking right into danger —thank god I was there—skit! what were you thinking!?! I have to ask because —what if I hadn’t been there in time? What made you do that?!”

“I am sick of being stuck in here! How could you just leave me here like that, Jörn? All those weeks— and you never even said— I think I am losing my mind....” I say the last part without expecting to and start to cry but stop myself in time

....and he reaches for me 

“No....!” I pull away and cover my face, “you still haven’t said why you’re here!”

“Why?—duva.... if it were up to me I would not have left you here like this. They didn’t give me a choice —to do with my government, it’s too involved to go into and I can’t really reveal classified information. As you know, I’m not even supposed to be here....”

“So why are you? Are you going to be arrested? I still don’t understand how you can travel so freely when nobody is even allowed to fly anywhere!” 

I look at him

and he smiles .... in that way he has —what is that? he reaches again for me and as I start to pull away he says,

“why do you think I’m here?”

So .... I think about what Willem said 

his taking foolish chances.... how he said it was not like Jörn to ....

“I have to get to the house,” Jörn suddenly says

“The house?”

“Yes....” he tells me

“But aren’t they there?”

Jörn nods in that way that seems to say “obviously”

“You can’t go up there!” I say, “they have guns!”

“Duva....” and now he looks at me in that way as if I may be a bit slow and shakes his head

“Jörn— no! —what do mean?”

He shrugs and runs his hand over his hip as if to explain —and only now I see he has a gun

“They can’t stay there in the house. Especially now that they know you’re here. They’ve been looking for the safe— that’s why they haven’t left— and you— because they know you have the code .... they know it has to be here.”

“I found them,” I say now, as if I think it would be a surprise 

“I know,” he says

And only now it occurs to me that he wanted me to.... 

“But I don’t know the code!”

He tilts his head to one side,

“yes, you do....”

“No! I don’t!”

And this time when he moves near me to touch me I don’t pull away,

“you do.... “ he taps my head, “it’s locked in there.... but I believe I can make you remember.”

“How?— why? Why is it so important anyway? Now? All these years later, why should it matter or be worth all of this?What’s in it?”

He thinks before replying. And studies my face,

“how? You saw the sheets of music. The keyboard ....” and then he sighs heavily “what’s in the safe? Why is it so important? Yes, actually, it is still relevant if you want to know  —what is in there....”

“Why? What can be in there?”

He stands up

I watch him pace around the room. 

It is so strange to see him in here. After all these weeks.... It seems strange to see him too

And only now do I take in his appearance. What he wears. It is not his usual choice of clothes. Somewhat nondescript. Forgettable. And it makes sense now that I think about it. Ordinary jeans, a gray shirt and a plain khaki jacket and work boots; the kind of clothes that can make someone go unnoticed especially to American authorities. Maybe that is what has felt so strange about him, he could pass for American and I find I don’t like it somehow ....remembering him in the lobby that first time I saw him ....heading for his evening’s performance 

He turns around,

“You really want to know what’s in there? Talk about a Pandora’s box.... let’s see, let’s start with just the little things first.... oh, just the.... floor plans of all secret entrances to all the embassies around the world, how about floor plans of places like the Pentagon, Fort Knox—? ....floor plans of all world leader countries secret nuclear bases not to mention formulas and vials of chemical warfare weapons.... Duva.... poisonous bacterias ....for the use of chemical warfare— viruses.... sound familiar? maybe relevant? not so outlandish, is it?.... to be used ....likewise ....let’s see, what else? —the  early development of ....the basis of the Corona virus and SARS ....anthrax.... just to give you an idea of the scale of this....chlorine, nerve gas.... how to build a nuclear weapon .... duva.... you of all people should know what a swine that man was if he hired someone to assault you and fucking left you for dead on the college dorm room floor on a private college compass—call it revenge! —for ....?” Jörn pauses only long enough to take a deep breath as if to reload, “I managed to get a view of the contents when it was back in Sweden— it’s a type of X-ray ..... so.... you should know ....there are other things that —I discovered too that —are ....in there.... I came across an interesting letter that surfaced through .... my sources..... I found things of —a more personal nature to him —that back up his motives of revenge ....photos of your biological father with Castro to appear incriminating.... and even more personal, your mother with —Ethan in compromising situations.... taped phone calls of this nature between them, and ....two blood samples, duva that he meant to send for the definitive DNA test of —guess who exactly? One he got from the hospital in Miami where Ethan passed away....”

For a long moment I sit there even more stunned than before

and then, I suddenly surface,

“please don’t go up there!” I blurt out now filled with dread. I cover my face in my hands

“It has to be done, duva— do you really think I’m going to just stay here and hide?” 

he actually laughs!

“You think you’re going to take on—what five guys!? —with rifles?! All by yourself? You are crazy! Willem’s right— totally foolish!”

“No, maybe not completely alone— actually, now that you mention....Willem will be here any minute....”

what was will always be & yet to be again; Electra’s dictionary

It seems an agonizing long time like that while holding back the urge to heave, breathing in the diseased, putrid reek of unclean, animal filth, half gagging while tensely gripping every muscle in my body to keep from moving. Yet I am aware that I shake, now having seen the faces of the men that have been keeping me living like a hostage, no better than a rat in a rathole underground, and ....

forced to trust the hand against my mouth ....even as, had not the whisper given it away ....the subtle scent cutting through the filth reaches me ....of bergamot and cedar ....and under different circumstances I suspect that I would be more aware of certain details, but then, this is the only reason that I comply to his command and willingly let myself be pulled along backwards slowly, and in slow and excruciating measures, am pulled backward and quietly back up the slope I slipped down what seems like long moments before 

And so it seems forever that, in this manner, progressing backward through wet ground, tangled branches and dead roots of broken tree trunks with the hand across my mouth and an arm across my abdomen, slowly I notice with relief, the reek subsiding in the distance. Still it is slow going backward in careful studied movements, as the sounds of voices seem to fade into the trees even as I clumsily misjudge a step and stumble in my confusion of where I step in this manner and almost crash forward down but then am pulled off my feet with a sudden impatient half coherent grunted, “attans!” in irritation, which had I not been sure, leaves me without doubt, even as there was never a question as soon as he was near

Yet, no sooner cleared of the muck and mud, slammed hard backward past the tunnel door that he catches with his booted foot to keep from making a sound, while still keeping a pinching and painful grip around my waist that keeps me from regaining my footing, once the door is secured shut inside the tunnel I am flung up against the wall

“What the fuck were you doing out there?!!” holding me at eye level up to him he stares at me enraged, holding me against the wall, kryptonite eyes blazing at me like ice cold heat 

Only, I start to pass out and cannot answer him, I see black dots that start to take over my vision and he lets go putting me down on the stair case to sit on a step as it seems I have forgotten how the breathe, as I seem unable to catch my breath, shaking still and feel dizzy and sick, like I could vomit 

“Breathe,” he says, sitting down next to me and pulls me to him, “like this,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine shows me and says, “in....” breathing in with me, “now out....” but it seems the shock of the moment stuns me. And his strange calm seems so out of place to me. But then, he must do this every day, I suddenly start to realize.... but then.... like that moment so long ago ....with the coffee cup.... I get the chill knowing —we have done this before, haven’t we....? in much the same way.... and still dizzy from what has happened I don’t really think so much as know, and know ....blind faith.... “breathe with me,” he says, “like this....” and just do what he says.... as if we have done this all before and look up at his face into the vampire eyes

The great escape; hunters in the wood~noir (JM muse chronicles E.D.)

But in the end, I step outside the tunnel door and for awhile stand outside leaning up against it as I both try to get my bearings and also try to get used to the feeling of being outside. 

It has been months and feels so very odd —never mind how oddly I know I am dressed — having to make use of whatever is close to my size among the Cabaret boxes which still lay upon the dungeon’s conveyor belts —which have also been my main source of wearing apparel these last few months—the boxes mostly choices consisting of bizarre animal prints and bold shades of crushed velvet with some lucky finds of snug fitting faux leather jeans with unfortunately too much extra room in the crotch. But luckily, today I found a box of some things from Le chevalier line and managed to make do with a long poet’s shirt —which covers the extra baggage, along with a Louise XIV paisley, damask, silk, burgundy jacket —to pair off with, naturally, combat boots. How completely inconspicuous to be dressed like Steven Tyler in the middle of the Adirondaks but there wasn’t much choice.... needs be—as I had to get out of there, feeling like Howard Hughs after he lost his mind

I mean .... doesn’t this go all the way down the other side of the hill? I think.... deep underground —it’s through the hill— so.... that must mean the barn house would be the direct opposite  ....going the other way.... I mean, right....obviously?

Still I hesitate and take a moment to review the email with the map.... 

still, not quite very clear as it’s confusing to visualize what I look at.... I turn around now to better look at where I just came out of ....

Weird .... it’s almost invisible with the trees and the paint 

I walk around a little over the thawing ground and see— what is that?

Oh —the sewage pipe graveyard —not pretty... but effective .... 

at least I don’t think those are working .... 

but then....I get distracted by a sound. The snap of branches behind me

 .... and 

I sharply turn to look—and for a moment my heart is pounding until I see a deer leaping through the trees 

So for awhile I just wait to calm myself and then step through  a soggy thatch of dead, leafy forest bed. I climb up the woody incline now grateful for the combat boots and decide to take a few moments to survey the area around.... until I hear voices 

Voices? 

Who would be around here ....I wonder— kind of odd

the middle of the woods unless .... well, unless they’re hunters ....and.... no sooner do I think of that that I hear a sudden shot ring loudly through the air like a pop erupting in an echoing explosion 

Oh shit!

I bolt back towards where I came from deciding I’d better head back ASAP and start running but .... I don’t see the tunnel entrance now .... in fact, it seems to have disappeared like Brigadoon .... as it is so well hidden.... this is so not cool, I quickly realize as I start to panic .... 

and the voices get closer. I can hear the branches snapping as they call to each other in lowered tones. It is awhile before I realize they are speaking in another language —what language? I can’t place it. Maybe Slavic or.... no, I don’t know it.... 

But then I see someone up the hill dressed in camouflage —and just as I see him he sees me and shouts pointing at me!

Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck! 

I bolt and start to run — but end up falling down the steep incline, sliding down mud as I hear them shouting and running in my direction! I land, falling with a sudden thud as something hard hits against my shoulder —or rather it is myself that lands against something hard, causing a painful impact.... 

it is not long before I realize where I have fallen —smack, dab inside the rusted sewage pipe park.... oh god.... but there is consolation in the fact that the pipes are indeed defunct, if not overgrown with wet earth, twigs, spiders and —I suspect rodents by the smell ....and start to heave and gag 

“Don’t move!” and from behind I am grabbed, a hand shoved up against my mouth, “don’t breathe, don’t say a word!”

Electra’s dictionary &/or Film Noir ‘dear diary….’

dear dictionary .....

It is when, by following the course of the map tunnel that I take the tunnel that leads out to the highway, hidden by a kind of grove of dense woods and according to the photo of how it looks on the outside, the sealed door I come to at the end is camouflaged by the shades of the forest in paint to blend with the background. And when I reach it, daylight filters through a narrow window, overshadowed by an old tree with draping thick branches, somewhat bare from winter. 

There is a staircase that leads upwards behind me that seems to lead up a hill to some other exit. 

As tempting as the daylight is to draw me out— as the desperation to be outside in nature drugs my mind I .... hesitate .... 

there is marked in red signs everywhere ....danger 

and just go to the staircase instead .... sit down on a step .... knowing out there lies vitamin D .... which there has been no source —and there lies the light, like a promise that beckons, as it ghostly illuminates from the window .... my skin has become just as ghostly; as pale as mashed potatoes .... 

but out there is so terrifying 

this cave .... these walls .... 

these walls to write on 

intelligent life ....? I’m losing all faith .... this cave, these walls ..... that I write on .... these walls I have raised .... maybe dare not be razed .... reaching for reason in an unreasonable world is to be a human among dinosaurs; how sad the effort to try seems a futile exertion ....reading about renegades in world news everywhere; things that won’t go away; psycho fraudulent x president, madness all over, shootings, global revolts, a virus that is somehow political and controversial, never mind deadly, genocide, fascist leaders everywhere.... to be human among dinosaurs .... the isolation is terrifying; these markings on caveman walls  

I want to leave

here.... 

but where do I go.... and who is there —who was there ever— that I could ever really trust .... just the Celf .... the celves; the selves within the self-made cell .... what I would give for just one clear sign .... these writings mark my wall

.... till later 

          ....Electra