Last Chance Harvey Part 5 (Blogophilia 26.11)

The empty box on the table stood as a testament to the battle against the munchies. Jim stood up and looked at Jerry comatose in his chair. Mozzarella and flecks of tomato sauce scattered along the edge of his mustache. The mouth looked tasty, good enough to eat. He was close enough to smell the stale smoke and sweat. This weed must be good. In all the years Jim had known Jerry, he'd never wanted to do kiss him.

Silence closed in as he paced around the deck. Poppng the cap on another beer he found an unlabeled CD. With a shrug, he stuck it in the portable player and turned up the volume.

Operatic riffs of Metallica filled the cabin. Jerry stirred and let out a huge snore. The reaction struck him funny. He thought of all the pranks he could pull. He began to giggle and it went on for a until exhaustion came. An old church pew sat on the port wall. God only knows where it had come from. The hard wood wasn't the most comfortable place he had ever crashed, but it would have to do.

Pulling a small striped blanket over him, he settled down. The GPS display over the wheel glowed softly in the darkness...11:11.

Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight.

Make a wish. Count to three.

Exit light. Enter the night.

Sandman transition complete.

Time traveled forward, then back. Levitating over the lake, he raced over trees on the far shore. Sawnee Mountain lay on the horizon. A voice more sensed than heard beckoned him towards it. As he approached, he saw the Seats of Judgement set into the cliff. Like a hawk, he circled until he found his place, the one in the center.

Perched on a hickory tree above the cliff was an angel, watching his actions. Taking flight, she floated towards him shrinking, landing on his nose. Nothing remarkable about her, a triangular nose and closed lips. Eyes were a dull matte. She wore Chanel.

Auraria lay a quietly in the valley. His vision was clearer than it ever had been. In the center of the village, a circle of Cherokee danced and sang entreaties to Trahlyta, the great traveler. One, then another would enter the circle and chant with their hands up in supplication for safety. The women watched passively as the ceremony progressed. Jim looked at the Angel and shared a smile. The were also travelers. A sense of peace flowed over him, of power.

But he was a trespasser.

The Cherokee saw them and became angered. They approached with sticks raised. Alarmed, the angel took his hand and they descended the shear face of the judgement seat.

At the base of the cliff, he noticed a man panning for gold on a creek bank. Over and over the pan would dig into the muck, the crunch audible over the flow. The pan would be dumped into to the sieve box and shaked to reveal the pebbles. Every three or four passes an intense look at the contents. A small with a bright fleck is discarded. Pyrite. Not what he is looking for. He goes back to the grind.

A voice asked about the passing. Without a word, the angel floated back up to the sky and he followed.

They landed inside a houseboat, The Last Chance. The dark wood trim was clean and shiny. A row of bottles stood at attention behind the bar, ready to be of service. He remembered the bottle on the floor from the dive and smiled. Harvey had been a clean freak and wouldn't have stood for even one thing out of place. The door to the stateroom opened and he entered.

Jim froze.

It looked like a broken sack of potatoes on the mattress. It was Corrine naked and pale as a ghost. The small breasts rose over a pillow-like tummy. Scars from misadventures past stood in relief over the skin. Leaning on the bulkhead wall, she was alone. Or at least it looked like it. But this wasn't a solo screw. Fear and torment twisted her face as she knelt. It was an act of penance.

Gazing back at the angel, she nodded.

Another presence was in the room. Hands drew up and were hooked on the rail above the bed. The mouth opened silently as something drew up each side of her hips and across her small breasts. Jim shuddered as the body flipped over. More and worse things were shown. After a while, she became still.

Nothing made sense. He turned back to the Angel whose steady gaze told him everything he needed to know.

Go no further. it will only lead to doom.

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Topic-Violeta Falo Tiumalu (with a nod to Deborah Truitt)

Pic-Colleen Keller Breuning

Pic guesses- Nose (in blog), buggy, kitty, cross-eyed, focused, intense/