The man with evil eyes (Iron Age Prompt for 13/12/2023)

Warning: This Story contains Strong and Racial language

Dust filled the air, ascending along with the whips of smoke from cigarettes and gun fire, into the muggy summer night. A young woman walks with purpose along the wooden pathway between shops and saloons. Stepping over or around the extended, leather boots of jeering men, who howled and laughed as she strode by, watching a carriage pass over the dirt road before she crossed.

Nailed under the balcony of a second story building. A worn sign rocked from the vibrations and loud revealing within. Three females, smoking coyly, eyed the young woman from the terrace, each had her hair held up with colorful feathers, yellow, purple, or green. Figure fitting corset that flaunted ample curves and stocking that showed more skin than they covered. She ignored their vulture like stares, and impish grins, and entered the building.

All around her, drunks, half naked courtesans, gamblers, gunfighters and a few bums. Dance, sang, fought, pickpocketed, as well as other sinful pastimes. She was beckoned with a mocking grin by an older blond woman, working behind the counter.

“What kinda’ git up is that?” She shouted to the young girl as she approached. “I reckon I know who yer here ta see. Upstairs, middle door, gold trim, can’t miss it.” The blond said, dismissively returning to her work. The young woman looked towards the spiraling stairs, and the cretins that blocked her path to it. Unshaken she moved past the drunks attempting to get handsy with her. 

Two, much taller and older women, saloon girls, strutted just outside the door. Wide slightly smoke-stained grins, hands akimbo, they stood definitely in her path. Forcing her to step around them. They cackled at each other, in some form of celebration, as the young woman slipped through the doors.

The room was large, with an accurate decor of roman aesthetic. Purple velvet drapes hung over a king-sized bed. Surrounded by bottles of wine, chocolates, grapes and other small fruits. The bed buckled under the combined weight of three womens, nude from the waist up, save their colorful devil masks and the enormous body of a fat man with a long-nosed mask.

“Padre??” The young woman asked, a concerned expression. The large man lifted his mask to see more clearly. Revealing a triangle shaped bald head, covered in red lipstick.

“Mariah! My child!” He said, attempting to cover himself with golden silk sheets. “What brings you to this den of iniquity? Ugh girls, if you would please?” He asked her as he extended his flappy arms for aid to be lifted up from the bed. “I trust you are enjoying the carnival season. Be mindful of temperance.”

“I-need your advice.” Mariah said, averting her gaze as he covered himself.

“Is the mundane or…more of a spiritual nature?” He asked with concern, both his stubby hands resting on her shoulders. 

“Spiritual…” She answered. 

“Ah yes! Ladies, duty calls! If you would please, oh and my purse please?” He said, gesturing to an open bag of gold dollars that one of the girls brought to him. Their heavily dolled up eyes widened, as he generously rewarded each a handful of gold. Still nude, they exited the room with large grins. Padre offered the young woman a seat across from the bed.

“Tell me of your woes, my child.” He said, popping chocolates into his mouth. 

“I fear that I am being stricken with…”

“Visions?” He asked tilting his head.

“How do you know?” She asked with fearful concern. 

“I would not be a man of the cloth, or the people had I not paid attention to the rumors.” He responded, offering her an assortment of fruits and chocolate.

“You know of this evil that plagues me then?” She looked down with tears, politely declining the plate.

“Evil?” he chuckled “You? My dear Marah.” He hosted himself to kneel before her. “This is no evil! The good book speaks of many who have been blessed with dreams and visions. This is a gift from God Almighty, as are you. A light in this ever-darkening world.”

“But why, does the Lord shown me such evil things.”

“What have you seen child? What are these evil things?”

“Visions of…” She hesitated “Demons rising from the swamps, made of the earth and skin of the dead. A woman does this…” She paused again, her eyes darting from side to side, as if she was witnessing it in that moment. “A dark queen rises…” She looked up into his eyes. “...Laetitia”

“Amélie Laetita?!” He asked with a glare.

“Si, I…” Padre rose before she could continue, tossing objects and fuming.

“I knew it! I knew that…whore and her nigger witchcraft. I was far too tolerant, too generous, forgiving to do what I knew I should have done!” Mariah watched Padre stomp around, cursing and clenching his hands in rage. “I will have the black skin torn from her dark soul. That serpent tongue ripped from her…” He stopped to look at Mariah, a fear expression from his ranting. 

“Forgive me, my dear, Continue.”

“...I saw also. A man descending from the skies but...”

“Ah! An angel!”

“...He had wings as black as the night, a cruel sneer and…” She froze before continuing “Such evil eyes.” Mariah threw her hands over her face and began to sob. Shaking her head back and forth. “Such evil eyes…They haunt me!”

“No child.” Padre rushed to her side “It is the image of God Almighty’s vengeance. You are but an innocent lamb in his sight. It was written in the Scripture, to all those who have seen the sons of God Almighty ‘Be not afraid’!”

“You shame me, Padre.” She sniffed.

“No my dear, it is you who shame me.” He replied, offering her a napkin to wipe her tears. A gentle kiss on her forehead. “Now rise. Follow these visions. Find this Angel and let him invoke the Lord’s vengeance!” Mariah smiled weakly at his words. “Oh, and here, take thede!” Reaching into his purse, Padre gave her over fifty golden dollars, along with a silver icon of Saint Christopher. 

“Padre, I cannot, this money belongs to the Lord.” She said standing.

“And it is my obligation to provide it to whom the Lord deems most needy.”

“I have another matter, a mundane matter.”

“Is a lamb of my flock being accosted by the wolves in this den?” He asked with a stern look.

“I am. I fear this place may tell them I am a woman of the town.”

“Fear not.” He said Presenting her with a simple carnival mask. “Wear this, I shall escort you to safety.” Both boned their masks as they exited the room. A loud bang as Padre pushed open the door. His girthy exposed gut, waddled to the balcony overlooking the saloon.

“My Children! Let there be love in your hearts. Let there be food and drink in your bellies.” He cast out handfuls of gold into the air. The crowds, men and women alike, fell upon the carpets clawing at the ever-raining golden hail. He beckoned Mariah to follow. Passing by the scantily clad saloon girls, he dropped several coins within the crease of their bosoms, along with a gentle promiscuous pat and coy expression.

“Hope ya ain't planning on reckin’ the place with yer ‘charity’ The blonde woman called out, as the two descended down to the bar. 

“Drinks for everyone!” Padre yelled, dumping the last of the gold upon the counter. The crowds recklessly rushed the bar. Padre gave a wink to Mariah. Her way was clear now slipping  out incognito. Uncertain of how to find this ‘angel’. Mariah whispered a prayer to Saint Christopher, Patron of travel.

A wooden carriage opened at the edge of the road's corner. Several people stepped off. Mariah approached to request a ride.The driver, an old man looked down at her. Before he could decline, she offered two golden dollars to him.

“Taint gonna ask where ya pilfered that from, taint none o’ my business. Hop inside senorita!” There was only a single passenger inside when she entered. A red-haired woman in an emerald green dress. Thick layers of makeup on her excused face, her eyes looking the young Mariah up and down, comparing their feminine aspects and beauty. She broke the uneasy silence with a laugh.

“What kinda get up is that yer wearin’ girly! What, did ya escape a convent or sum’n?” She laughed loudly. The creases on her face wrinkled as she mocked the young woman. Taking a puff from her cigarette stick.

“I was raised in one, Si.” Mariah responded, coughing slightly as the woman blew smoke in her direction.

“Church girl eh? What ya doin’ in these parts? This is the dog honest shit hole town in the bayou. Can’t say I blame ya, if yer leavin’. Girls these days only get by whorin’ and more whorin’.”

“I hope to find a…man.” Mariah responded, whipping the smoke away.

“Ain’t we all. Find one while yer young girly, once ya hit twenty, it’s all saggin’ from their on out.” She took a final puff of her stick, uncaring of the girl breathing it in.

The long road and dusty trail occasionally picked up more riders through the night, an eclectic bunch. Mariah had dozed off quietly. Though her body rested, her mind did not. The dreams came again. Strange, dark omens filled her restless mind. Shadowy horror and spirits from the pit. She was awoken by the red-head with a tug on her skirt.

“Ya okay girly? The way you was squirming in that seat, ya think someone set it on fire.” She asked, a fair degree of concern.

Mariah rubbed her eyes a moment, noticing a much older man, with a gaunt build, in a tweet suit Sitting by the redhead. His large white mustache twitched occasionally as he stared into nothing. Mariah nodded to the redhead. Before dozing off once more.

In her dreams, Mariah ran with full force. Skirt held up in her hands, hair flowing wilding behind her. Desperate to get away. The ebon tide shadows that chased her to not consume desperate. She knew not to look back, but she did. There she saw him, the man with the evil eyes. A lion among men, a giant among gods. No matter how far or fast she ran, he was there. Slowly treading towards her, until there was no place to go.

Mariah awoke again, this time on her own. Her outburst surprised the new carriage riders. All men, The redhead had left, sometime in the evening. Mariah took several calming breaths to settle herself, but then she caught a glimpse of something startling.

Directly opposite of her, was a man. His black hat with two large animal canines tied to the crown’s band, lowered to cover his face as he rested, slumped down for comfort. Mariah could not take her eyes off him. She leaned forward, ignoring the others, just staring. Reaching out cautiously, she rose from her seat to get a better look at the man. Lifting the black hat up from his face, she curiously studied his features.

“Ya know em?” One of the riders asked. Mariah didn’t respond. She took her focus off the sleeping stranger for only a moment to look at the one speaking. Horror fielded her when she turned back. Falling back into her own seat, her rosary clenched tightly in her small hands. She enacted the sign of the cross and prayed quietly.

the stranger's eyes open, staring back at her. Staring back, with the most evil eyes.