Weepings of the Moss: The Sound in the Waking World (Chapter 2, Part 4)
TUN-BAHH! The sound made Gabriel shoot upright in bed. But no shadowy figures greeted him. The sound had been barely audible this time. He whipped his head about, yet saw nothing but his own room.
“It’s over, it’s over, it’s over, it’s over,” Gabriel repeated to himself again and again breathlessly. Bringing his hands to his face, he covered his eyes for a moment. “It’s not real. None of it’s real.” I need to see a doctor. I’ve been having night terrors ever since Atlanta, he thought to himself. Slowly, he lowered his hands. In the dim ambient city light of Beaufort creeping in through his window, he stared at the moisture on his hands, somehow dirtier than he remembered. His sweat had spread the dark dirt around. I heard that thunder after I woke up. His hands started to shake. Was it a dream? He began brushing the dirt from his hands, but it only smeared it more.
Standing up, he strode to the bathroom and flipped the light on. He was covered in sweat, his skin clammy and pale. The dirt was now smeared all over his forehead. For a moment he stared at his pale self in the mirror. I’ve leaned out. Just look at me, he thought with some disgust. I’m losing it. He had once maintained his body and face well, but he had lost weight, dark circles formed under his eyes. Though not a hideous sight, Gabriel felt his mother would be appalled to see him. Splashing his face with cold water he washed his face. His eyes ached for sleep. For a moment Gabriel held a staring contest with himself.
“It’s not real. None of it was real. Keep it together. You’re okay,” he reassured himself, then with a flick of the light, he stepped back into the darkness and slid into bed.
Immediately he was blinded by a light. Gabriel held up his hand, letting out a sound of dismay. Being seized by a moment of confusion, he almost said to turn off the light, only to realize it was the midday sun shining through his open balcony door.
“But I just…” Confused because he had just closed his eyes, he rolled over to look at his alarm clock. “One PM?!” Gabriel exclaimed, throwing his sheets off. “Crap!” He had promised his contractor he would come do a house check at two-thirty. Throwing on the same dirty clothes from the night before of some tan jeans and a faded blue t-shirt he quickly brushed his teeth and ran down stairs and across the courtyard to the main, pink painted house and front desk of the Beaufort Inn. He passed under ornate chandeliers and spiraling staircases that wrapped circularly around the walls like white snakes. The blood red floral carpets stood in contrast to the beautifully enameled white walls. A middle aged man sat behind the desk watching something on his smart phone, which he quickly put down at Gabriel’s approach.
“Mr. Blackwoode, good morning!” He said enthusiastically. “How can I help you?”
“Thanks,” Gabriel glanced down at his nametag. “John. So I know it’s a bit late, but I was hoping you still had some of those breakfast vouchers. I slept in way too late.”
“Of course sir, no worries,” John said with a friendly smile, handing him the cardstock piece of paper which Gabriel took gratefully. “I know exactly how that goes!”
“Where uh, where can I take this to?” He asked, looking at the clock behind the counter.
“Well there’s a few places you could redeem at, all equally delicious, there’s Blackstone’s Café, Rain-N-Bagels, Lowcountry Produce-“
“Okay, thanks!” Gabriel said as he headed out the door into the warm but slightly windy weather.
“Oh, n-no problem sir! Have a great day!” John called out as Gabriel headed down the white latticed, green railed double front steps with flower boxes hanging from them. The American and indigo blue South Carolina flag danced gently in the cool, salty wind coming off the sound. Street lights that looked like old gas lamps lined the road, along with numerous live oaks and blue palmettos adorned with Spanish moss. Small single story homes with brick steps and chimneys, and small white porches with rocking chairs, lined the small Port Republic Street.
Gabriel, having seen Blackstone’s Café before during his drive into town, walked east down Port Republic Street. The humid air filled with the smell of salty ocean and greenery filling his lungs as he power walked to the café. Turning south he crossed to the other side of the street. He walked under the shadow of the rattling fronds of palmettos in the wind, until he came to a small white store called Bathe, just across from Blackstone’s Café. The Café was of painted white brick, then the lower quarter being painted brown brick. Small benches sat next to newspaper machines near the entrance of doors with large windows painted a mahogany color. A tin overhang loomed over the entrance, with two maritime style lamps flanking the door.
Looking both ways, Gabriel jogged across the street and stepped onto the black and white tile floor of Blackstone’s Café. The restaurant had two floors. As soon as one enters there are tables to the right, the hostess booth on the left, then stairs that led to the second floor with more seating. The walls were adorned with flags of colleges and military units. A marine private in his dress blues was before him, talking to the hostess with what Gabriel only guessed were his parents. After that he was quickly seated at a table by the entryway windows.
“Crazy night,” he muttered to himself with a sigh. Though he did not wish to remember that night terror, images of it kept coming back to him. The final booming sound is what confused him most.
“Hey there hon, the name’s Amy!” The waitress suddenly broke Gabriel from his musings. “What can I get to drink for ya’ today?”
“Coffee, black please in a to-go cup,” Gabriel spat out. He didn’t bother taking any more time with the menu. “and Cajun shrimp and grits too please.”
“Alright, we know what we want this morning!” Amy said with a chuckle and a sweet southern accent as she wrote his order down.
“Actually, can I ask you a quick question?” Gabriel blurted. She turned around with a big grin.
“Sure, shoot.”
“Did you uh, hear any sort of…. booming sounds? Like early this morning?” Gabriel gave an awkward laugh. “I know it probably sounds weird they just woke me up in the middle of the night.”
Amy quirked her mouth, raised an eyebrow, and looked up at the ceiling as if straining to remember. “I can’t say I do. Though…are you from around here?”
“No, I’m a pretty recent move in actually.”
“I see, well first of all welcome to the low country hon,” Amy said with a sweet smile. “and second, if you walked right out onto the Beaufort bridge and looked right down the river you might catch a glimpse of Parris Island.” A beat skipped as Gabriel stared at her expectantly. “You know, the base?”
“Base?” Gabriel asked confusedly. Amy gestured towards a table where the Marine private from earlier now sat.
“Parris Island? The Parris Island? Where basically all Marines go through boot camp? They’re shootin’ and blowin’ stuff up all the time there. You ever seen Full Metal Jacket? That was at Parris Island.”
“Oh yeah, sure,” Gabriel said with a false nod. “That was probably it. Shooting some big guns probably, thanks.”
“No problem, sugar. You’ll get used to it.” The waitress walked off, and for a moment Gabriel sat there, staring at the table, before turning his gaze out the window he was sat next to. Marines. It was the Marines training. Shooting an artillery gun or something. He thought to himself. His bones could still feel the reverberation of the thunder, that booming. His mother’s voice, so twisted and grating, and the woman. Staring at the wall. His eyes closed tightly. Trying to dispel the image from his mind’s eye, he squeezed his eyelids together until they felt ready to burst, then opened them. It wasn’t real. It can’t hurt you.
A rational explanation has been found for the thunderous sounds, but what about the woman in the woods? Or the dirt on his hands? Follow the blog for the next installment as Gabriel reflects on a world where not everything can be so easily explained away.
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