In The Town Where All Things Are Possible: Part 16
Need To Catch Up?
In The Town Where All Things Are Possible, Alexandria wilted against the cold steel of a glowing streetlight, her hands still bound tightly, her body consumed with a cruel and unyielding thirst. Her eyes scaled the tall hill leading to the lonely office with the lonely light burning deep into the night. The penguins squawked and fluttered around her, nudging Alexandria with their beaks, pressing her to move forward.
Tessa stood up from the shadows of her garden, pulled the gloves from her hands and hurried through the front gate. She wrapped her arms around Alexandria and led her toward the small house. Tessa’s good eye scanned the shadows around the intersection while the penguins flanked the two women like sentries. As they passed through the front gate, Alexandria thought she heard Tessa whispering, the woman’s good eye facing away toward the rows of potted plants and flower beds. Alexandria couldn’t make out any of Tessa’s words, but could tell they were not meant for her ears anyway. As soon as the women passed Tessa’s threshold, the penguins pushed the door closed behind the women, then waddled quickly through the garden and toward their own home.
Alexandria fell back into an ornate chair with high arm rests and finely chiseled designs that webbed across the aged cherry wood. Her eyes quickly fell on a set of knives resting on the counter of a modest kitchenette, but jerked away when Tessa turned from the front window to face her.
“Water,” Alexandria murmured. Tessa crossed to the faucet, filling a hand-molded clay cup with swirls of glimmering purple and emerald-green sweeping along the outside.
Alexandria studied the binds on her wrists briefly, then scanned the small home. Tiny paintings tiled the walls, consisting of a wide spectrum of mediums and styles, some dark and somber, others vibrant and bright or lush and garish. Figurative, surrealist, abstract, narrative, pop art, all organized in subtle patterns of base colors so nothing seemed cluttered or in disarray. A small bed rested, unassuming, in the corner next to a towering wardrobe, both with the tiny imperfections that marked the skilled hands of a labored carpenter rather than a soulless machine.
Tessa pressed the cup into Alexandria’s bound hands and Alexandria immediately brought the water to her lips, drinking in gulps as Tessa began picking at the hard knot in the rope. After draining the cup, she handed it back to Tessa. Tessa turned to refill it.
“Alexandria!” a voice called from the front yard.
Alexandria’s face paled. Her hands began jerking at the binds, trying to free themselves. Alexandria stood, but Tessa placed a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s Gerald,” Tessa whispered calmly.
Tessa returned her focus to the knot, fingering the rope until it finally loosened and unraveled. Alexandria swept the rope off her wrists as Tessa opened the front door. Gerald stood just outside the front gate. Alexandria circled behind Tessa, carefully removing a knife from the wooden holder and hiding it behind her back. The molded, wooden grip felt welcome in her hand. There was weight to the blade that appealed to Alexandria’s fear and emerging predatory hunger. Her imagination worked righteous and bloody.
“Come in, Gerald,” Tessa called.
Gerald looked across the front yard, unsure.
“Stop being an idiot and come in,” Tessa snapped.
Gerald hurried across the front yard, his eyes sweeping the ground as if looking for poisonous snakes. He leapt through the open door and smiled proudly. He smoothed out his beard and adjusted the collar of his cheap, over-worn tweed jacket. He looked to Alexandria, noticing the purple and red bruise over her temple. His smile faded.
“What happened?” Gerald asked. “We’ve been looking for you all afternoon.”
“She was taken,” Tessa answered, stepping close to Alexandria. She brushed hair away from the bruise so Tessa could examine it with her good eye.
“By who?” Gerald stammered, but Alexandria noted how the question wasn’t entirely a question.
Tessa didn’t answer, but instead returned to the faucet. She took a towel from a nearby hook, ran warm water over it, then opened a cupboard to retrieve an ointment.
“Who is he?” Alexandria asked Gerald.
Gerald’s averted his eyes. Alexandria turned to Tessa, seeing only the side of her face hidden behind the clockwork gears.
“Who is he?” she repeated, her voice cold and insistent, her grip tightening on the knife hidden behind her back.
“The Man Who Holds The Town Together,” Tessa answered, tilting her head to meet Alexandria’s gaze.
“He’s dead,” Gerald answered, unconvinced. “They told us he was dead.”
“They were wrong,” Tessa answered.
“You don’t mean Jeffrey?” Alexandria asked and the two froze at the name.
“Please, don’t use his real name,” Tessa managed. “And no, this is the Man who came before.”
“The Man who killed his wife?” Alexandria furthered.
Tessa turned away. Alexandria looked to Gerald, whose eyes still rested on the ground.
“Yes,” Gerald relented.
“And now he wants to kill me?” Alexandria asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “And you just let this man exist underneath your town, like a living curse?”
“They told us he was dead,” Gerald whispered.
Alexandria pushed past Gerald and stormed to the front door. She paused, her hand on the doorknob. She turned back to Tessa.
“What happened to your eye?” she asked.
Tessa kept her back to Alexandria.
“It died long ago,” Tessa answered. Gerald discreetly cleared away his tears.
“It was him, wasn’t it?” Alexandria asked. “And no one did anything about it because he holds this town together, this perfect little town?”
“They told us he was dead,” Gerald echoed.
“Who told you that?” Alexandria snapped, but received no answer. “So, now that you know that they lied and he is alive, what are we going to do about it?”
The pair finally looked to one another, but neither addressed the question.
Alexandria threw open the door and looked out into the night, then up the hill to the Man’s office. A shadow passed across the lone window.
“Will he be a coward too?” Alexandria asked, her eyes fixed on the hill.
“No,” Tessa answered. “But he is trapped. We are all trapped by the town. It gives us happiness, and happiness is fear, and fear is something we cannot escape.”
