A Rose in Fielding

After having passed through a beaded curtain the two found themselves in a darkened cubicle. On the earthen floor was a small lacquered table no more than a foot above the ground. One side had several silken pillows, each ornately stitched and embroidered in Middle Eastern designs. On the other sat a peculiar lady, sitting cross-legged, with back erect. She stared stright ahead, unmoving and unphased as the teens entered, striking an eerie pose, the glow from a black light illuminating her face in a deep shade of purple. Paul was stunned. He’d anticipated someone much older, indeed decrepit as well. To the contrary, Bari was quite attractive. Her long black hair, shiny and thin, fell straight down in front of a pale, narrow, angular face. In one ear was a large, ruby-colored stone that dangled from a thin chain. Both of her wrists were adorned in layers of gold bracelets, each thicker and gaudier than the other. She looked no more than thirty and was, to his astonishment, a beautiful but morbid looking creature. “So,” said Bari Mishu, in an accent that sounded more Jamaican than Cajun, speaking from behind a shroud of sweet, raspberry-like incense. “I undahstahnd you two seek me advice. Not ta worry bees, I take ya to da truth.” Buzzie and Paul focused on this goddess of darkness, whose gaze was lifeless. Matthews found in her every movement and act a sensuousness that he’d not seen before. “Now Paulee and Boozie,” she went on in broken English, “Dah is no need to ax me no questions. I tell you what gonna happin’.” The teens were astounded that she already knew them, sat back on their pillows, never uttering a word. As Bari spoke she moved ever so slightly, front and back then side to side as if making the sign of the cross with her body. Clouds of incense and candle smoke followed her movements, creating an eerie, green-blue silhouette. She had the boys mystified. The enchantress then reached out, placing one of her hands on each of their foreheads and asked that they close their eyes. All at once Paul felt a surge of warmth through his body. He felt a calm like never before. It made him tingle and twitch. His mind began to empty, as though a magnet were pulling away his thoughts, until finally there was nothing but silence inside. In this state he could not determine whether he was a drugged or dead. One thing was for sure, in his numbness nothing mattered. Matthews drifted further until, all at once, became conscious of many things past and present. There was no sense of time or place, just a random stream of events and people. He did not resist but instead gave into the torrent and went with it. Had he been given LSD? Was this an evil seductress contriving a hoax? How far was she going to take this routine of hers? Finally, a barely discernible voice could be heard coming from both sides of Paul’s head, entering his ears in separate channels like stereo. It sounded like someone chanting, at first slow and soft, then faster and faster, louder and louder until he felt like his head would explode. It was Bari Mishu’s voice delivering a message. Like a mantra it played over and over again, repeating itself endlessly. Go to da Rose that is so cold and withered Go to da Rose, she the shrine of truth Go to da Rose, deep in cluster of soil See the Rose, it bring you to da truth