Psuedovisions

The distant barking of a neighbor's hound shattered utter silence on 23rd Street, Riverton. Defying ancient rules of nature, mango trees stretched out wrinkled palms...grasping...finding...nothing. The wind hissed shrilly, hurtling through the trees, whipping up leaves, and overturning empty trash cans sitting outside their homes. In its wake, it left chaos, the earthly scents of bougainvillea and dampen earth, mingled with the overpowering scent of the Riverton dump. As if on cue, dark clouds smothered the glare of the moon, leaving the prospect of light on the shoulder of a lone, rusting streetlight that promptly illuminated the zinc fences and the boarded shacks of the run-down community. Overshadowed by a pall of gloom, it nested quietly in the dark. It was indeed twelve o'clock.

Shrouded in darkness and tucked away at the end of the street, a zinc fence squeaked and swung open. Hurried footsteps ran pat-a-pat along the graveled street and a lithe boy of perhaps fourteen years old stepped under the dim light. He quickly folded at the knees, sucking in deep breaths and panting harshly. He paused and straighten, sniffing the air. Taking in the scents of rotten mangoes, dog poo, and the pungent smell of the nearby dump. He shivered visibly and looked at the trees, silently staring down at him. He looked at the board houses hidden behind zinc fences, lined up like soldiers facing a battalion, and finally, he looked back at the direction he came from, his face puckered in disappointment. He had stayed over as long as possible, in hopes that he could sleep over at his friend's place. The parent was not having it.

Michael adjusted his old schoolbag, clutched his tattered jacket around thin shoulders, and picked up his pace. Like a fugitive in the night, he stole along silently, glancing behind him every now and then as shivers after shivers rumbled down his spine. He was afraid and he had every reason to be. He was alone. It was after twelve o'clock and Riverton was most definitely not, the Botanical Gardens.

After walking a couple of blocks, he came to a halt outside a dilapidated building he jokingly likened to an old man. It looked used, seedy, a tad unhealthy, and a lot tired. Welcome home. Muttering an inaudible oath, he ran up the cracked steps and shoved open the door, to reveal the surprised face of his mother.

Lauren quickly pulled him inside, slammed the door, and faced him. Placing her arms on ample hips, she surveyed him from the crown of his head to the sole of his feet, a mixture of anger and worry creased her round face.

"Weh yuh did deh?!", she snarled, her brown eyes going wild.

"Yuh know wha time dis?!". Heart thudding in his ears, Michael inched gingerly towards his room, giving her a wide berth.

"Hmm...Mummy, it's 'where were you?', not 'Weh yuh did deh'", he corrected cautiously. Without a word, his mother suddenly grabbed the broom leaning in the corner and advanced toward him.

Michael clutched his bag in fright!

"Mickey, baby, there is something behind you." She stated flatly, swinging the broom straight toward his head. Heart pounding, he dodged and cast a stricken look behind him, though god knows why he did, he should have known that nothing would be there. The woman was crazy!

"Seriously mummy!" he shouted, as she took another vicious swipe at his head, catching him in the left eye.

"THERE IS NOTHING THERE BUT THE DOOR!" sidestepping her, he rushed into his room, banging the door close in his haste.

Calm....sane...silence. Michael tossed his bag on the floor encased in linoleum of his sparsely furnished room. Covering his now swollen left eye, he paced the length of the room fuming at the injustice done to him.

"She knows a got schoolwork!" he shouted jabbing the air.

"It's not like she doesn't know...SHE KNOWS! And yet this damn woman perplex mi every minute! Eh! She got nothing ya! NO LIGHT, NO WATER, NO DAMN NUTTIN! Everything we want... people yard we guh!" he continued his tirade gesturing furiously, throwing things, venting his rage at the room at large.

"Ahhhhh!" a piercing scream rents the air. Michael stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in fright, then realization hit! His mother was seeing things, and hearing things, no one else could which was weird. He knew she sometimes gets these nervous fits, but she had valium for that, unless...

He quickly rushed back into the main room, in the nick of time to see his only living relation collapsed on the floor in a still heap!

"Mummy!!!" he wailed cradling his mother's awfully still body in his arms. His eyes frantically flitted around the room and settled on a pill bottle sitting on the roughly hewn table top. His heart rate picked up and his eyes filled with tears.

"No...no...no", he mumbled lightly slapping his mother's face. His hands trembled, and his mind reeled. "A..alright CP... CPR", in his haste, he squeezed her wrist hard. No response. Crying silently, he pressed his face against her chest. The heartbeat, her heartbeat was so faint.

So very faint.

"Sommaddy help wi!", Michael screamed at the top of his lungs. Over and over...

But Michael heard no running footsteps, no voices, no noises of the community stirring, no.....nothing but an eerie, oppressive silence.

Then, he remembered, this was Riverton.

Nobody helped.