Sam awoke and jotted the motifs down as quickly as she could in a 5x7 spiral she kept near her bed. Not fully awake, the notes were large, the letters curved in circular directions. As long as it was legible enough to cull from later, that was all that mattered.
Captain. Amethyst Turtles. Glossy eyed. Impasse. Star. Christmas Day. Two years.
The Captain dreams had lasted about fourteen months now. All told, it may have been close to a dozen that she could remember, a dozen that she spilled out on a single page. It may mean something one day. Right now, all Sam believed was that this was a spiritual imagination place. A place where India blues was the color of the ocean and turtles were giants...and a Captain bound forward to follow his heart.
It was 7:20 am on a Saturday. She grabbed her binder, threw on her Angels cap and ran outside.
...
"What is that?"
Clark had the dumbest questions. He never said 'hello' either. He just walked up and started to be annoying. Sam knew if she ever felt someone leering over or around her, it was Clark.
"Plaster of Paris."
"It comes from Paris?" Sam rolled her eyes and didn't turn around. She wasn't in the mood to see his mouth agape. She gingerly balanced a consistent string of plaster into the dried mud, making sure that the coat would be even. She had tried it on her own foot print a few times and had to vary her method to achieve the best result. Not too much water, a slow pour and make sure no cats or Clark got within three feet of it. "Does it dry?"
"Yes Clark, it dries." She stood aways back to admire her work. There were about six footprints to choose from, all the same shoes as far as she could tell. This imprint was the best of those, it ran deep enough to simply place a little wall of mud around it and she'd have a cast. I wonder if the police did any of this?
10:20 am. She had to sit here now since Clark would definitely ruin the entire cast if she let him to it. The grass was warm and wet under the flesh of her palm. She loved the feeling. She loved the feel of laying in the ice plants even more, but she could only do that when her parents weren't home.
"How long does it take?"
"Twenty minutes and then I have to carefully extract it. Then I have to let it dry overnight."
"Why? That's boring."
"There's nothing boring Clark - just boring people."
"You always say that."
"Because you always say that too." She turned toward him for the first time, "Maybe you need to stop saying it then I won't say what I say." He shrugged and sat. Arrrgh.
"Do you think it'll catch the ransomer?" Well, he isn't all dumb, isn't he?
"Don't even want to say its him."
"How do you know it's a 'him'?"
"Women don't usually ransom. Plus, looking at the shoes, women don't usually run a size 9 men's with a Converse tread. It would be an awfully ugly giant of a woman." Clark shuddered at the thought.
"Do you think you'll find him?"
"Dunno. All I can do is keeping trying to find things...I found the shoes under the window. I will guess there are fingerprints there. I found a cigarette butt in the gutter, and no one four houses in either direction smokes. Plus, it's a Salem, no one definitely smokes these on the whole block (unless it was the new family). It had to have been someone that knows this neighborhood, or at least Mrs. -"
"Wow, you think too much."
"Go away Clark." And he did.
No comments:
Post a Comment