A Little Black Book, A Big Black Bag and A Screaming New Beginning

There are many screams you can hear in the desert at night. If you dare face the silence with patience, sometimes you can discern clues to the unfolding story. Screams of love, terror, exhaustion, or exaltation. There are endless narratives that can be heard shrieking through the darkness. The real truth to those tales are known only by those from which the screams came from. For everyone else, they can leave it to the birds.

Rosie had never been one who demanded answers. People deemed her strange. She had listened to screaming animals all her life. She watched the lives around her with wide and tired eyes until the day came that she decided to go her own way.

As Rosie approached the weakly lit diner, she had become aware of voices shouting as she took soft steps down the road. With each step the worn soles of her shoes could be heard as they pulled apart from the rest of the shoe they were attached too. On the breeze, the voice of two male officers could be heard.

It appeared the officer, whose apprehensive sweat Rosie could feel as her own, could not and would not go through with it. The opposing officers' pulsing right temple was about to disagree in an increasingly violent manner until they felt Rosie’s soft yet abrasive energy approaching. The officer with the angry temple calmed himself for a moment as she stepped past. She felt overall very unconcerned. Shouting men in uniforms were common and not her business; she would leave it to the birds.

The sweat of the officer who didn’t want to go through with it kept dripping, and now his eyes shifted occasionally at Rosie’s back. Slightly visible through the diner window, she wore a thin emerald shawl over several worn down t-shirts. The shawl had been elongated through a life thoroughly lived and had a sheen to it that would catch and play with the light. Atop her head Rosie wore a beanie bearing the image of a tree with several blooming flowers. Out in the nearly abandoned parking lot, the officer with the pulsing temple could no longer wait…

Rosie sipped an herbal tea she always carried with her. The ingredients were picked, dried, and blended with her own hands. The diner supplied a warm BLT sandwich to go. The shouting had become continuous from the parking lot yet was somewhat muffled by the thick plastic windows. Rosie pulled the hot tea to her chest, slid the sandwich in her bag, and paid. If she kept on till morning she’d reach her camp outside of town. She thanked the man at the counter and pushed through the heavy diner door.

She found the officer in the passenger seat of the long black van, glaring intensely into her eyes. His eyes that were once frantic, seemed very made up about something. The officer in the driver's seat was turning the engine, looking red and fiercely agitated. A thought skipped through Rosie’s head to use the bathroom before the walk. She felt the man’s eyes on her back as she made her way back into the diner.

The van was gone when Rosie came out of the restroom five minutes later. The man behind the counter stood staring at her while holding a black bag towards her.

“That man left this for you.” He dropped the bag onto the counter as he eyed Rosie very suspiciously while awkwardly groping the outside of the bag. She couldn’t tell if he had looked inside. She knew what was in there. The shouting had been muffled, but she had excellent hearing.

Rosie felt herself sigh inside, but outward remained blank. In slow motion, she took the bag. Nodding her head and sliding it around her shoulder with strong steady hands, she turned around and headed out the door.

After twenty minutes of walking in pure darkness, Rosie began to see the soft morning rays of light sneaking between her lashes. The morning birds brought a chorus to her ears, she shut her eyes and leaned into their opera as the bus pulled up. She stepped on, nodding her head at the driver. He handed her a muffin, a homemade token from his partner at home who was sincerely grateful for Rosie. She in turn handed him a small bundle of items gathered in the desert. The bus squeaked forward, the driver giving an odd glance to the black bag over her shoulder. Rosie shrugged, stepping towards the seats. She would be riding farther than usual to a new place; following the directions of the screaming creatures in the desert.

The bus bounced and jerked through the town. Tired folks were passing wary stares to one another. Rosie knew their glances well. She kept on the lookout for the quiet glimmers of life behind the forlorn eyes of strangers. She would sometimes leave them a token of encouragement that might remind them of better times.

Rosie bit into the zesty muffin with a zeal that matched its exciting flavor. Her foot tapped to the music blaring from the headphones of her neighboring passenger. The music was Cumbia, her favorite to dance too. Rosie pulled a small black notebook from her pack with tenderness. She kept her thoughts here; the thoughts she would never say out loud for fear of having rocks hurled at her head and body. These were the thoughts she preferred to discuss privately within her small black notebook. A small worn down pencil, manufactured for writing Keno numbers, slid out from the pages and into her hand. She etched some thoughts with neat, yet flavorful, handwriting.

“Building with the red door

Between a place with cakes

And the magic store”

Softly, she shut the book and slid it into her sack. It would be another 27 blocks before her stop. She closed her eyes and danced in her mind to Cumbia.

Soon a dream wriggled into her mind’s space. The red door sat gleaming just out of reach. The street was dark with no lights. The magic store stood in the shadows but the cakes from the cake shop could be seen glowing. The red door began to pulse as if something was attempting to escape from behind it. Rosie’s heartbeat fell into step with the increasing pounding at the door. It was being pushed off the hinges, while each thud grew louder and louder. A bird landed on her head. Rosie felt its talons grasping at her beanie while finding balance on her skull. A heron with a cartoon face dropped its head to her eye level, bending its neck in a ridiculous way. She began to laugh and laugh. She could not stop laughing. The heron laughed with her, until eventually rolling on the ground in excitement. Its wings were clutching at its belly from the aching laughter. The door was opened when Rosie finally stopped laughing and the heron had become a clay looking hummingbird. She followed the chunky hummingbird through the open door, where the magic shop glowed with a dazzling light and the cake shop had now fallen into the shadows.

When the light reappeared, Rosie had awoken on the bus and was staring through the glass at a red door with an abandoned storefront to the left. The old awning read, Fantastical Book Store. To the right of the door was a tea shop called Hot Cakes. Rosie saw a woman moving about the tea shop. The woman’s body language read as defensive yet yielding. Worn out, baby blue cut off shorts sat loose on her hips. A camo tank top was covered by the black button up uniform shirt of Hot Cakes. She wore her hair in a chaotic mass on the top of her head, it was dark violet with white highlights. Her arms, which were strong and moved about with certainty, were decorated in tattoos.

Rosie crossed the street and slowly entered the shop. She looked strange in the cramped shop, holding the bag which was larger than her torso. The woman with the violet hair took notice of Rosie and smiled towards her. The name tag pinned to her black shirt read, “JOEY”.

Rosie explained to Joey that she had some information for her and a gift. Joey looked skeptical and yet yielded. She guided Rosie outside the shop after the only other guest had left and then locked the shop door behind her. They went to the red door to the left of the shop; up the stairs was Joey’s apartment. Joey put on some hot water, they shared Rosie’s blended tea and a calm trust began to form. The women got along quite well. Rosie explained how she came upon the black bag and the instructions she decided to follow.

Two men posing to be security officers managed to rob a bank. It was a desperate decision and seemed sure to fail from the outset. Yet these men were clever and bordered on what some would consider to be generous folks. Ray and DeSilva were their names. With charms and quick thinking, they managed to get in and out of a bank in a day, both carrying their own bags containing $20,000 each. It was enough to get them to Mexico to begin a business and make their own fortunes. Ray and DeSilva met in a men’s prison for petty crimes and theft. Trying to cure their poverty, they could never find the right medicine. Ray was set on getting to Mexico and thought that joining their funds would give them a higher chance of success for building an empire. DeSilva had a different plan. While in jail he discovered he had a daughter. Joey was 19, working at a tea shop, dreaming of becoming a writer, but was getting nowhere. DeSilva had never felt he was good for anything. His father made sure of that. This was looking like his opportunity to break that illusion wide open. He decided his share of the profit would find its way to Joey no matter what it cost him.

Rosie finished describing the tale of what she had overheard at the diner. Joey’s face was pale, her eyes wide, and mouth hanging slightly open. Rosie pushed the teacup gently towards her. Joey sipped the brew and closed her eyes. She felt she could see her father, Gerard DeSilva. Her mother didn't talk about him much, Joey did not like to push for answers. She felt his grief as her hand reached out to the lumpy bag. Grazing the bag with her fingers she asked Rosie if she saw where her father went after he dropped the bag for her to take.

“No, they were gone.”

Joey imagined her father back in prison or on the run, wild and alone. Her mind spinning ceaselessly in a fear based whirl. She breathed deep and let those fears dissipate. Her heart was breathing life and hope into her again. The former vision of her broken father was shifting into the dusty bookstore downstairs. A light went on, she could see herself typing in a cozy office. A dream that could unfurl into reality. A smile played on her lips. Rosie smiled and began to stand. Joey opened her eyes and grabbed Rosie’s wrist gently. She asked her to stay, perhaps they could begin something together? She would love to sell Rosie’s personal tea blend through the store! Together, ideas began to pour between the two unlikely friends! Joey vowed to help the kind Rosie who had dared to bring a bag of free money to a criminal's daughter. She also vowed to find her father. The sun had gone down. The creatures continued to scream into the night. The believers made sense of the noise and while something new began to grow, the rest was left to the birds.