From Experience Writing Image Prompt: Oct. 17 Prompts: Phases of the Moon | Experience Writing
My Aunt Jemima’s middle named was Perses.
The name Perses, if you are curious is derived from the Ancient Greek word pertho- that means to sack, to ravage, to destroy.
Our family name is Black.
I thought you should know that before we start this story.
When I was in high school Heavy Metal was a big deal and everyone was bleaching their hair blond. Metal Heads were wearing spikes and leather. They drew pentagrams on their book and lockers. They even gave themselves Devil head tattoos and 666 with black sharpie pens on the bus ride to school. And a lot of the Metal musicians and singers were giving themselves new names- like Nicky or Nikki and of course they were choosing the last name ” Black “.
I was really a Black but nobody cared. I wasn’t anyone’s idea of a Metal Head and I drifted through the halls of my high school like a ghost. I was good at Math and I played the Violin. I had braces and and unruly head of hair.
To sum it up. I was a geek.
Just before my birthday ( I was a Halloween baby- yes for real ) my Aunt Jemima came for a visit.
She lived in Canada in a cabin by a lake called Killjoy and her only neighbor was a short man with a glass eye. Part of his nose was missing and you could see into his face, if you wanted.
” Hey there Aria ” she called to me from the kitchen.
I had just got home from school, I dropped my jacket and my books near the front door and then I pushed the pile under the table that my Mom kept pictures of family members she didn’t like, but didn’t want to insult if they stopped by.
And then I went straight to the kitchen. ” Hey there Aunt Jem. ”
My Aunt was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.
” Why the sad face Aria? It’s your birthday- tomorrow and your birthday is on Halloween. If I were you I’d be smiling from ear to ear, like this. ”
She smiled her serial killer smile ( that’s what she called it, not me ). ” Come on Popptet smile. ”
” You can do better then that.”
I copied her serial killer smile and she got up from her seat at the table and hugged me.
My Dad worked at nights, so me and my Aunt’s dinner was his breakfast.
” Good evening family! ” he called on his way down the backstairs to the dining room.
“Evening.” me and Aunt Jem called back.
” So is that pyscho sister of your Mother’s going to join us for dinner? ”
” Ha. Ha. Ha. “Aunt Jem answered back.
“And a top of the evening to you Jemima The Destroyer. ”
” Same to you- ” my Aunt began to say as my Dad’s form filled the door way. He had to lower his head to make it through the door and even when he did that he had to turn his head sideways so his horns didn’t catch the door frame and scrape the paint off. Mom hated it when he did that. ” O Dark Lord and Master of Hell and all of the souls damned there” my Aunt chanted and then she laughed and the wine she had been drinking shot out of her nose.
” Master my forked tail- I just spent the last hour putting away the laundry for you Sister. I told her to let it go, but she had a bloody mess to clean up and she was determined to square it all away before dinner. She was not successful, I’m sorry to say.”
” Aria, go downstairs and help your Mother out. She over loaded the washer again and there’s a bit mess to clean up. Give her a hand will you.”
” Sure Pops. ” I got up and as I passed my Dad he looked down at me from his seat at the table, ” Aria, she over loaded the washer. I told her not to toss those things in there but she doesn’t listen to me. Nobody in this house listens to me, ”
Aunt Jemima was sitting across from my Dad and when she heard him she said, ” What? ”
” Very funny. ” my Dad said with a laugh. ” Good one Jem.”
I went downstairs and my Mom was at the washer. ” Your father says I overloaded it again. ”
” Oh. You know Mom. ” I looked up to my Mom. She had crawled up the wall and was hanging from the ceiling. She only did that when she was upset. ” It’s an old washer. Maybe you should get a new one. ”
I walked carefully through the pool of blood and bleach in front of the washer door and I looked through the little glass window at the lumps and bumps inside. A face was plastered up against the door.
That’s when I remembered to ask. ” Mom. Can I have an angel food instead of chocolate cake for my birthday cake? ”
” Of course you can dear.” she dropped a small bundle wrapped in her best spun silk from the ceiling . I caught it in my hands. It was warm and a little sticky.” Of course you can. ”