posted on Aug, 15 2006 @ 04:24 PM
House of the Rising
I awoke in a smoke filled dark dingy little room. My vision was still blurry and the ground hadn’t stopped shaking from the night before. I
looked at the cracked wooden ceiling above me and pulled the covers up to my eyes trying to fight this sinister mix of feelings and hovering hangover.
In the distance I could hear the faint sounds of people laughing and an out of tune piano playing without abandon. My head was spinning and it took me
three tries to cover my eyes with my hand. I took inventory of my body. My right hand still seemed to be there, both legs, both eyes, nose, ears, all
seemed to be where they should be. I wiggled each toe just to make sure they still worked. My body was still half numb from the mix of booze and
struggles with drunken animals from my last waking consciousness. I looked to my right and saw a empty bottle of gin and a still burning cigar in a
ash tray sitting next to a shot glass still half full of a dark liquid. I picked up the glass and put it too my lips only to notice it smeared with
lipstick. I drank down the contents and tried not to gag. I slowly tried to sit up in this unfamiliar bed when I noticed a hand on top of my left
hand. I looked to the left and realized that the warmth I felt wasn’t the covers but a body next to mine. I tried to sit up without disturbing this
lump in the bed and I flipped the hand over and held it for security and warmth. The lump in the bed had the bed spread over their head. I slowly
pulled the covers away from the head of this person to reveal a beautiful redhead with a beauty mark on her left cheek and a small scar on her right.
I struggled to remember how I got here or to put a name to the face below me. Flashes of dirty angry faces and cards sent from heaven, cheap whiskey
and sultry moans circled my brain as I tried to put the pieces of my journey to this spot and this time together. I whispered “Melody” to myself
before realizing that was her name. A sense of danger and controlled panic overtook me and I felt a strong desire to leave this room and to leave this
place. I bent down to kiss this beautiful woman’s hand while trying desperately not to wake her. Clearly this angel was the only one who ever loved
me even if it was only for one night at twenty dollars an hour. As my lips touched her skin I felt a strong tingle and a wave of remembrance of the
passion and the fulfilled desire I felt the night before over came me. While still holding her hand with one hand, I softly brushed her face with the
other and silently thanked this angel as I started to make mental notes of what I needed to do to get out of this place. I slowly took my hand from
hers and gave her one last long look trying to keep this moment as long as I could. I then swung my legs over the edge of the bed and felt the old oak
floors beneath my feet. I tried my best to be silent while trying to keep my balance and fighting the urge to be sick as I rose to my feet. A loud
creak from the floor boards was my reward. I slowly turned to look at the angel still passed out beside me and not a stir emanated from her, just a
slow, soft, constant breath was her only movement. I looked across the room to the wooden chair, the only other furniture in the room besides the bed
and end table. Laying on them were my black shirt, my black pair of pants, a black hat, a belt with a holster and a revolver laying on what appeared
to be several bills of many denominations. Apparently lady luck had finally remembered her long lost son last night. I crept to the chair and with
each step it seemed like the number of bills multiplied and my eyes grew with each look at my new found fortune. Once I reached my chair and my
possessions it occurred to me that in this tiny dark room where the bed seemed miles away that the darkness had greatly diminished the sight of my
pile of money. With this sight, it seemed as if fortune had finally smiled upon the poor and the wicked and that I had finally repaid my sins in eyes
of those who count such things. A soft smile crept over my face as I began to get dressed.
After tightening the belt on my pants and buttoning my shirt, I began to count the money. The money seemed to glow in the darkness and my hands
undaunted by the drink or the stress flew over the greenbacks, finally happy to have something of value within them. My eyes grew as I counted. One
hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred, five hundred, one thousand, two thousand, two thousand five hundred. I almost screamed with joy
when my hands finally stopped counting but kept silent as to not awaken my angel behind me. I settled for a closed eye look at the sky, a thank you
for the good fortune that had found me. I put the roll of money on the chair as I reached for my pistol and my hat. Upon picking up my pistol, I
noticed an odd thing. The gun seemed lighter than normal and smelt as if it had recently been fired. I opened the chamber to reveal that two bullets
were missing. A sense of fear overcame me, not remember where or why the gun had been fired or where the two shots had gone. Looking back at the bed,
a flood of memories from the previous night overcame me and washed me away.
Three shots and half hour into a poker game of the shiftiest and biggest gamblers of New Orleans, my fortune had suddenly turned. It was a straight, a
flush, a full house, and a successful bluff one right after the other until the tempers of my fellow players had reached their boiling points. As I
stood to leave the table was over turned by the biggest man at the table as screams of “CHEAT! CHEAT!” rang through the air. He went for his gun
and I went for mine and apparently my luck continued as two shots echoed and the man slowly sank to the floor. A wave of shock and disbelief encircled
the room and probably for the only time in it’s history the parlor was silent with no music, no loud conversation, no proposals and haggling.
Suddenly a soft delicate hand grabbed mine and I was running, being led upstairs. A locked door, an embrace, and staring into the eyes of a red haired
angel. Passion, love, gin enveloped my senses and I savored the darkness and my two ladies Melody and Luck. Between heavenly kisses and velvet
touches, deep conversation. My made up story about being a cowboy from Missouri and seeing directly through it and calling me a cheap hustler who
finally played his cards right. Her story about being enticed here by her drunken l