fff#87

my flash fiction friday #87; [contronym inclusions] trigger; conjugate as/if needed: buckle, dust, bolt, rock, skin, left, bound; [bonus words] refrain, sanguine.

once upon a time back when i wasn’t myself yet, before i become the sweat-rice magnate, i was a nonsinger in a land of musicians. i didn’t know nothing ‘bout no obeah, beyond its basic existence, which felt far from mines them times. them times all i had was the sight.
but the sight…that, i had, more than i wanted even, until later i learn what i could do with it, and a little focus.
i was just trying to make my way in this place, to find my space to claim. didn’t know what yet but knew still i need to devote myself to some purpose, that it have a power in me [need] to be directed+used. thought working in the library was a decent start while i decide my life and it wasn’t hard to get in, so i did. and from jump, i love that work. the library was a home for me who [had] always ache for a home i never know. i love that work. and i was good there for a time, reading everything that call me, seeking, searching, busy discovering the whole wide world, until the more immediate world rudely intrude.
i was reshelving. he pretend to need help. come and ask me about some author i never hear of, if we have them. i had to check. which was all he want. he proceed to keep me at the desk with a endless litany of questions and requests for recommendations and, i realise after, anything else even remotely sensible that cross he mind, because what he actually want was my attention+time.
from then, the man become a pest. somehow he figure out my schedule- maybe he was following me; probably was- and manage to turn up every shift to eat up my time with smalltalk+questions, rinse out my ears with weak attempts to impress, and (he thought) slickly, try to inveigle his way into my life, asking unnecessary things about me, finding excuse to try+bring me things, wanting to get inside my skin. i wasn’t having it. and apparently he wasn’t having that. the day i politely try to put he in he place and explain my being there was a job thus i had work to do, this man explode. in the library. in the middle of the day. in front the marish and the parish, he open up he mouth and leggo one setta abuse at me. well, my 2leg buckle, make me rock back and siddown hard, i was so shock. and shook. he rail up heself all by heself and as security reach, spin+leave.
that night the phonecalls start. all kinna quality hours my landline going off and when i pick up is only heavy heavy breathing and nothing else until i put down the phone. a few days later, my mobile, too. after about a 3weeks of sleep deprivation and swear somebody following me everywhere i go, jules, one of the girls in the library board me in the bathroom and demand to know what going on. of course i try to act like is nothing but she drag me over by the cracked mirror that say mister brown is a lick-bamsee in red sharpie in the corner, and force me to watch my own face and she say, gyul, you think anybody believe that “i alright” bullshit right about now? you eh bound to tell me ‘bout it if you doh feel but is not yesterday i born; you cyah expect me believe you alright, looking so!
well, with that i break down and tell jules all what happen with the man and how it have me frighten and cyah sleep. she listen, calm, and when i finish bawl jules ask quiet quiet, you have gold?
next night she carry me by ma lacey.
ma lacey blood take me one time. that very 1st night she tell me before i go, after i finish do all she say and rid meself of the problem, come back and see she again. i reach all the way back by me still feeling like under a fog but somehow not confuse, her instructions clear, a map in my mind to guide my inexperienced hand.
when ma lacey hear my story that night she laugh low and tell me, doh worry, man like that weak, them so does mash up fine fine like chillibibi and dust off your foot after…
i tell she i only want he leave me alone, completely. ma lacey laugh again and say, whaever you want, is yours.
i get the candle, write out he full name (we does keep excellent records), do everything just as ma lacey tell me. and he stop come in the library, at least when i there. my phones’ refrain fall silent again.
i reach back by ma lacey.
eh heh. i see like everything work out. so why you [come] back here?
now i confuse. but…you tell me…you say come back…
me? i tell you?
i watch ma lacey face close; she, inscrutable.
yuhknow, sanguine is a funny word. i never really understand how it could mean them 2 totally opposite things before but…now i do. both of them is how i feeling right now.
she watch me hard, then quietly ask, you ready to see? ready to learn?
i swallow hard. nod my head.
ma lacey bolt the door.

walk good.