{"id":8816,"date":"2014-02-10T06:00:08","date_gmt":"2014-02-10T12:00:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/?p=8816"},"modified":"2014-02-10T06:00:08","modified_gmt":"2014-02-10T12:00:08","slug":"old-devil-moon-flash-fiction","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/?p=8816","title":{"rendered":"Old Devil Moon"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"71UxQ8v6SQL\"<\/a>Patryk Abramczyk should have been shackled to the concrete wall in his basement. Instead, he sat in the dining room of a crippled cruise ship. His wife Becky sat across from him, dressed to the nines, despite not showering for a week. Her eyes shimmered on the razor thin breaking point of tears. Patryk admired her strength. Becky\u2019s inflexible nature tried him, at times. Today, eating peanut butter on white bread in their formal attire, it provided stability on the otherwise stormy ocean. As she had said, \u201cThe jazz combo still comes out and plays every night. They play the part. We should, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patryk took a bite out of his sandwich. The bread tasted as dry as cured concrete. The earthy smell of peanut butter momentarily pushed aside the heady aroma of Becky\u2019s favorite perfume. Patryk wasn\u2019t sure if she wore a bit too much out of self-consciousness, or if the change had begun. So many of the symptoms–the heat, the skin tension, the grinding teeth–were indicators of stress. Becky was his rock. When he prepared for a particularly difficult part, she stood by him. When the change was particularly hard, Becky would sit in a chair across the room from where he convulsed in shackles, singing \u201cThe sun will come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar–\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExcuse me, Mr. Abram?\u201d<\/p>\n

The combo was taking five. The drummer stood next to the table, wringing a pair of sticks in his fists. Patryk smelled the drummer\u2019s sweat. He swallowed hard, forcing down the sandwich.<\/p>\n

\u201cCall me Pat,\u201d he said as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood to shake the drummer\u2019s hand. \u201cWe are all going through this together. No need for formality.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHell of a thing. You know, we\u2019re technically out of contract. We were supposed to be back three days ago. We just don\u2019t know what else to do but keep playing. And I am rambling, I do that sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d Pat said. He forced up a smile with the same effort as he forced down the sandwich.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I get an autograph?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure. Do you have some paper, a book, or something?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you autograph one of my sticks?\u201d The drummer handed over a white, Buddy Rich signature series stick.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure. That\u2019s a first for me.\u201d Pat took a fine-tipped Sharpie out of his inside pocket. He bought them in bulk and carried two everywhere.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can sign right above Buddy\u2019s name. Make it out to Dave. I played in the pit for you, you know? Finian\u2019s Rainbow, on Broadway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally? That\u2019s fantastic. You guys were great.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were great. You and Mrs. Abram, both. Ma\u2019am, if you could sign, too, I would just love it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Becky placed her napkin on the table, smoothed out her dress, and stood up. She looked regal, like the Hollywood starlets of the past. Patryk always thought Becky had been born a few decades too late.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbsolutely,\u201d Becky said. \u201cThe music was such a big part of the production. We couldn\u2019t have done it without you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Drummer Dave blushed as Becky handed the stick back. \u201cThank you. Thank you, so much. I can\u2019t tell you how much this means to me. That pit band was my first real gig.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe we will work together again someday,\u201d Becky said. \u201cAfter all of this is finally over.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patryk noticed a minute twitch of her lip as she said it, like a rabbit frozen before a predator, worrying that the slightest movement would draw toothy death. Dave didn\u2019t seem to notice.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat would be amazing,\u201d Dave said. \u201cWe\u2019re going back on. I\u2019ve got something special for you. Thanks again.\u201d David ran back to his four-piece drum kit. He aggressively called the rest of the combo back to the stage. Patryk and Becky had just sat down when the music started. \u201cThat Old Devil Moon\u201d from Finian\u2019s Rainbow. Patryk would recognize it anywhere. He sang it to Becky on Broadway, just before the cast party kiss that sealed their fates. Before fame. Before movies. The beginning of it all.<\/p>\n

Patryk rubbed tears back from his eyes. Becky kept the facade in place. She stepped around the table to Patryk and took his hand delicately into hers. Patrick felt the soft, fine hairs on the back of her hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey expect us to dance,\u201d Becky said. Patryk put his hands on Becky\u2019s waist.They swayed in time with the music. The combo\u2019s singer, a woman in a long sequined dress with a slit up one leg, sang about a glace being too hot to handle. Patryk pulled Becky close. He smelled perfume, sweat, and pheromones, the familiar scent of her. He could taste it upon his tongue. He salivated. Becky winced as his hands drug tighter into her hips. Patryk stepped back. Becky\u2019s facade began to break. Her mouth quivered. She struggled to hold the perfect image all in place.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m tired,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ll be back at the room.\u201d Becky walked away, a starlet queen, so much in contrast to the fearful wife that Patryk knew hid beneath the surface. Fear of him. He sighed as the combo reached the coda. Patryk dropped some money upon the table. Most of the guests had stopped tipping after the ship broke down, as if the wait staff had anything to do with it. Patryk pulled the silver steak knife out of the tightly wrapped formal dining ware and stuffed in in his pocket. He waved to Dave, who gave him a nod.<\/p>\n

Patryk leaned upon the metal deck railing and looked out over the ocean. The nearly full moon danced upon the currents. Patryk felt it, hot like the sun upon burned skin. His bones ached. Patryk wanted to pray for an answer, but would God answer an animal? Patryk didn\u2019t know how long he stood there. The moon tended to envelope his mind. Entire nights passed in moments, leaving barely a memory. The band had stopped playing, and Becky had stopped crying. He could hear the steady slow breath of her sleeping two decks above. He could smell her.<\/p>\n

Becky had begged him to go on the cruise. She wanted to get away, just the two of them, before shooting schedules would keep them apart for weeks. She assured him there would be plenty of time to get him back home to their basement. There had been the fire in the ship\u2019s engine room. The crew worked desperately to fix it. They promised they would be up and running in a couple of days. Time had run out tonight. What would a werewolf do aboard a cruise ship full of people with nowhere to run?<\/p>\n

Not a single room on the ship could hold him. They weren\u2019t designed to withstand the supernatural. The crew might have guns, be he doubted those cartridges held silver. Tomorrow night would bring an all-you-can-eat buffet. Patryk wiped drool way from his mouth and sobbed.<\/p>\n

\u201cPat, are you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patryk heard and smelled Dave long before he got there. He just didn\u2019t care. Dave had been there for the beginning. It felt right that he\u2019d be there at the end.<\/p>\n

\u201cRough night,\u201d Patryk said, wiping his eyes and nose.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnything I can do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKill me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, what?\u201d Dave turned pale.<\/p>\n

Patryk chuckled. \u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dave stared at the star dusted sky. Normally, Patryk should have stargazed with him, the stars were so beautiful out on the ocean. Instead, he stared at Dave\u2019s throat. Muscle and tendon strained beneath pink flesh. Patryk listened to the steady thrum of Dave\u2019s heart, the rushing cadence of warm blood pumping through his arteries.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s going to be a Hell of a full moon tomorrow night,\u201d Dave said.<\/p>\n

Patryk laughed. \u201cYou have no idea.\u201d<\/p>\n

Already, the moon pulled at Patryk. It\u2019s gravity tugged at every hair follicle, it\u2019s pale light soaked deep into his brain. It whispered to him. Tomorrow, it would be a shout. A scream.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure you are okay, Mr. Abram?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbramcyzk. Abram is just my stage name. Call me Patryk Abramcyzk.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d Dave said. He looked around and scratched his back with a drumstick. \u00a0\u201cYeah, I can do that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo me a favor, Dave,\u201d Patryk said. \u201cGo to my room and tell my wife I\u2019m going to be out here for awhile. Tell her I love her. Can you do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbsolutely,\u201d Dave said. \u201cAre you sure you are okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI just need some time alone with the moon.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dave looked like he might say something, but words failed him. He left Patryk standing alone at the railing, looking down at the water. Right now, Dave couldn\u2019t wait to get away. Tomorrow, he would blame himself for not staying.<\/p>\n

Patryk pulled the silver steak knife out of his pocket. The well-polished surface glittered beneath the moonlight. The crew worked so hard to keep up the appearance of normalcy, like Becky, like the band, like Patryk. Look the part. Play the part. Be the part.<\/p>\n

It would be normal. Just another movie star accident, easily explained by drugs and alcohol. They were a dime a dozen. They would show his picture at the Oscars with all the other dead. They would camp outside his mansion gates and offer sympathy in lieu of privacy to his widow. They would play his movies in a memorial marathon. Normalcy. Such a hard part to play. The knife was not ideal, but with the moon already strengthening him, he could play the part forever.<\/p>\n

Patryk sang the coda to himself, just under his breath. \u201cJust when I think I\u2019m free as a dove…old devil moon, deep in your eyes, blinds me with love.\u201d The animal in Patryk roared as he thrust the knife into his chest and then threw himself into the waiting ocean.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Patryk Abramczyk should have been shackled to the concrete wall in his basement. Instead, he sat in the dining room of a crippled cruise ship. His wife Becky sat across from him, dressed to the nines, despite not showering for a week. Her eyes shimmered on the razor thin breaking point of tears. Patryk admired […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":8,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[422,780],"class_list":["post-8816","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-flash-fiction","tag-old-devil-moon"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8816","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/8"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8816"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8816\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8816"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8816"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8816"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}