Past The Patch

more enlightened era, more informed, that we are aware and awake.

Unfortunately, we remain that green, budding plant. We grow, taking in their poison as we ripen, never realizing we’ve become infected and yellowing, until it’s too late to recognize the rot.

Take the celebration of Halloween. It is a holiday, once known as the Celtic Samhain meant to honor the dead and dedicated to the harvest. The Catholic Church merged it with their All Saint’s Day many centuries ago, and today we have children clad in the plastic masks of the latest cartoon craze knocking on their neighbor’s door for candy. An idea taken, changed to fit, used, taken again. This is by far not a new thing. Creations and cultures have been stolen and passed of as new longer than there has been written word. The true origins of Halloween are undoubtedly lost to modern societies – and we don’t really care. But don’t forget how ripe you still are.

When does that poison factor in, that decay come in to play?

You’re already a corpse before you know it’s happened.

Dusk comes early at the tail end of October in Ohio. It was Saturday, the 30th, technically the day before Halloween, but most of Logres had it’s Trick Or Treating hours tonight. While the city officials would claim it was due to Saturday being an easier night for more parents, it was really to appease those few religious folk who would run screeching down to the Mayor’s Office should a “pagan festival” occur on the Lord’s Day.

The morning had been busy at Thru-Drug. Although the date was pretty self-evident, the local newspaper had been printing the Trick Or Treat times wrong for the past three days. Only today had the moneys at work over at The Logres Daily printed a correction notice, adding a small apology at the bottom. Kim didn’t think it had helped much. Mostly she heard people swearing and threatening a Frankenstein-like “pitchfork and torches” style lynching of the newspaper building as they frantically bought their candy. Overall, she was pretty pleased with the idiots at the paper – they had nearly sold out of their seasonal candy stock thanks to the rush.

Leaning back against the counter, Kim tried to decide if she wanted a cigarette or not. She had only ever been a social smoker, but this past semester had been far more stressful that any previous. Eyeing her neon pink purse emblazoned with green skulls where it was hidden under the counter, she chewed on her lip. The corner of a pack of Camels peeked out at her invitingly.

“Hey, Kim,” yelled Wes from his register. “I’m going out for a smoke, okay?”

“You’re a bastard, Wes.”

Her co-worker gave her a goofy grin as he locked his drawer and slid out from behind his counter. His brown hair a perpetual mess in that questionable style, his blue shirt had two thin paint marks across the front.

They looked relatively fresh.

“What happened to you?”

“Huh?” replied Wes, looking down at his slim frame to where she was pointing. “Oh, I was helping Angie in the back. Dwight was, er… busy.”

“For fuck’s sake,” muttered Kim. “Go smoke.”

As Wes ambled out the door, Kim hit the buzzer to ring for Angie back in receiving. She liked both Angie and Wes, Kim and Wes even had some of the same tastes in music, but he had been holding Angie’s hand on this job for too long. Especially when it came to Dwight.

Kim didn’t mind her job, but she had harbored a few reservations about taking the assistant manager’s position. At twenty-eight, she was in a distinctly weird age bracket at Thru-Drug. A larger chain pharmacy and convenience store, almost all of the employees were either firmly in middle age or right out of high school. She had snagged part-time after she had moved back to Logres over a year ago when she had re-enrolled at Franklin State University. Kim felt ancient compared to the kids who made up most of the cashiers and stockers, and felt like a freakin’ alien compared to the PTA homeowners who comprised the pharmacy team and management.

“Um, yeah Kim?”

Kim sighed inwardly. Angie was a year or two younger than Wes, and had about as many curves. Thin blonde hair and anime-large blue eyes that hid behind glasses made her seem even younger. Was I ever this innocent? thought Kim, as she stared at Angie. Angie just stood there awkwardly, not making eye contact.

“So… why does Wes have paint all over him?”

“Um…”

“Yes?”

“He was helping me?”

“He was? And where was Dwight?”

Silence.

Kim sighed loudly this time. “Angie, when you’re on receiving duty, you get to boss around the stockers. Dwight is a stocker. Wes is a cashier. I know you and Wes have been tight since you were little, but I need everybody to do their job. Is there a problem with Dwight?”

“Dwight is…” she whispered.

“Dwight is what?”

“Nothing.”

Kim peered at Angie and didn’t say anything. Dwight was the general bane in her Thru-Drug existence. The only other employee in their late twenties, he was Dr. Melissa Homme’s cousin and an all-around annoyance to the other workers. He was lazy, he didn’t like any form of authority, and he occasionally said creepy shit to the younger females on staff. Wes had been dumb enough to get in his face one time after he had said something to Angie. Dwight was six-foot-four and over two hundred and fifty pounds.

“Listen, I’ll make sure Dwight does…”

“Excuse me?”

Kim jumped. She hadn’t seen the old woman walk up.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?”

“Yes. Yes…”

Angie took a step back. So did Kim. The old woman had drawn the word out almost like a hiss. Kim gave her a once over and blinked. Her clothes were faded, a strange dingy brown and her styled hair looked messed. Angie gave a little cough when the woman reached up with a dirty finger to slowly rub a rotting tooth exposed when she gave them a smile.

“Yes?” Kim tried again.

“Do you have any fish hooks?”

“Fish hooks?”

“I don’t think…” began Angie.

The old woman interrupted, “Oh, that’s okay.” She hummed badly off key as she wandered away.

Once she had vanished around into aisle, Angie let out a breath.

“What the hell was that?”

Off to the west, the sun lost its daily battle to the darkness and the sky grew into deeper shades of purple and orange. Kim sat outside on the tiny bench beside the soda machines that nobody ever used and smoked a cigarette, thinking about her abnormal psychology test. At least, she was

trying to think about it. Mostly, she was trying not to think about Drew.

After two years with Drew down in Atlanta, she had left. It had been her choice in the end, but it still hurt. Returning to Logres had seemed like admitting defeat at the time, but once she had come back she had realized that she had fared far better than most of her peers.

So many of her old friends had settled down – or simply settled.

Loveless marriages, dead-end jobs, two-point-five kids, the white picket fence dream that didn’t really exist anymore. Of course, that was Logres.

The manager, Joyce, was an old family friend and was thrilled to hire Kim while she returned to school. Dr. Homme, on the other hand, the pharmacy head with her Volvo and her PTA meetings, took one look at Kim’s tattoos, piercings and black hair and felt instant revulsion. All of it amused Kim greatly. She took out her lip ring