The Help and the Helpless
He recovered in the dim light of the phone booth. The young woman had shoved him so forcefully. He was only trying to warn her, save her from the clutches of the lady in red and save her from the pain of the bleak truth about her sister's whereabouts. After a moment, she appeared before him. Her eyebrow raised and her hands softly running down the sides of the phone booth walls. Her dress, black as the night with only a faded white collar to keep her head from being devoured by the darkness. He wondered if she were truly happy, carrying out her duties and never truly knowing the touch of her mistress and the future of forever taking care of her in that asylum. She reached out her skeletal like hand with its thin spider leg like fingers. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the letter to her lady that she craved. He handed it to her and with a wicked smile she accepted. Just then, the pregnant woman stumbled through the lobby, drugged and helpless. He wanted to help her, tell her to leave, tell her not to go to the Banquet. She was not aware of the fate that awaited her at the hands of the mad king. The woman in black stopped him, held him back from approaching the pregnant woman. She whispered, a whisper that turned into a hiss "now my dear, you know we can't interfere!". He slumped back into the phone booth as the pregnant woman vanished into the hazey darkness of the hotel. At that moment, he noticed that the housekeeper was beckoning him to follow her. Follow her? To the bedroom of her mistress? Instead of going upstairs, she went into the small restaurant off the lobby where she took her seat at a table. Confused, he hesitantly followed suit and joined her at the table. She took a slice of toast, smeared it with jelly and then dumped a handful of tiny marshmallows on it. She slid the plate to him gracefully. He took a bite of the sweet treat before him. She looked displeased a moment, and then gestured to her collar. Understanding, he took a napkin from the table and stuffed it into his shirt. She looked down and laid a napkin on her own lap. She started making herself a cup of tea with lots of sugar and just a hint of milk. She proceeded to do the same for him, only more carelessly and not as precise as her own cup. They sat there together, the help and the helpless. Neither could stop the events taking place. The housekeeper unfolded the letter to her mistress and started reading the words of her husband. So full of hope and certainty, which both he and his lady now had neither. The already dim lighting of the room began to darken further, as if the lobby were vanishing and becoming a dark void. The space had served its purpose and was no longer needed in this plan, and neither were the housekeeper and the Porter. At that moment the sounds of screaming, thrashing, and pounding footsteps filled the silent air. The mad king and his Lady made their way through the dark void, trying to maintain an air of regalness despite their bloody and exhausted appearance. As they passed, the housekeeper and the Porter stood and threw their napkins on the table simultaneously. She offered him her arm with a smirk, a "fair game" smirk with a sense of pride and wickedness in her eyes. Knowing he could do nothing, he took the darkness by the arm and walked with her through the void behind the mad couple on their way to a majestic banquet. The two lead the group of ghosts surrounding them to the Banquet, so that they may welcome a new member to their ranks once the noose finally did its job. What became of the housekeeper and the Porter? Is that all there is? In my world, I'm afraid so.
- H
