FathomOnline

 

 Fathom Jan. 1997

Cover

 

Inside Cover

 

Poetry

Mary-Kate Arnold
Jamie Reynolds
Natalie Meisner

Prose

Trevor Rockwell
Rachel Melis
Mark Anderson

Articles

Jamie Reynolds
Andy Murdoch
Andre Narbonne
Andy Murdoch and
Jennifer Reynolds

Artwork

James Matthews
Mitchell Weibe

Extras

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Rachel Melis

 

 

SAVIOURS AND DAMNATION

She had no mother and no father. She had no brothers and no sisters. Exception–Fale. And where did she come from? Usually, she was uninterested. And it was irrelevant anyway. She heard the phone. But there was no one there to answer it.
     “Hello,” she said.
     “Hello,” he said.
She hung up and went back to reading. Au Rebours was her world: Des Esseintes was her lover, and she had promised to smell nice for him.
     “Hello.”
     “Laier, don’t hang up.”
She hung up the phone and went back to reading. One of these days she will get an answering machine. The freaks calling her... she didn’t even want a phone. Was the ritual real? Durtal was with her and she had nothing to fear. Would she really look smashing in a black hooded gown? Her face wasn’t pale enough, rather a little splotchy golden around her eyes. She left the mirror who had noth­ing to tell her as always.
     “....”
     “Laier, it’s Fale, don’t hang up. I’m coming to visit...”
She hung up the phone and went back to reading. Can it be possible that everyone has her number? She was right. She should never have listened to Sleeze; that zine was always coming up with shit to fuck her mind. Who was it that called first? She folded the book carefully and went to the window. There he is that fucker! Right there looking at me again. Goway summabitch! Fucking payphone cranks. She drew the curtains together and went back to her spot on the floor.
     “Hello...”
     “I’ll be over in a minute, stay put, everything will be fine... Laier? Are you there? Dr. Svit told me...”
She hung up the phone and went back to her read­ing. What was Huysmans saying? Oh, so I’m not supposed to believe anything my lover says, is that so? Well, I know him, and he would never stalk me by phone.
                         The bell. Fucking bastard.
     “Oh. Who are you?”
     “Laier, are you okay? Can I come in?”
     “What are you selling? Perfume? Des Esseintes would like some jasmine, do you have any jasmine? Wait. I have to check if he’s got any money. I’ll be right back.”
She shut the door and reworked the locks.
     “Laier! Open the door! Who’s Des Esseintes?! Laier! It’s Fale, open the door!”
Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang. She sat back on the floor. She put the book on the floor and flipped to the beginning. Yup. There it is. Fuck! Was everyone lying to her? She went back to the window and peered through a slit in the cur­tains. Lazy ass, horny, motherfucker, sick fuck. Hi! she waved. I wonder how long he can stand there and watch me...
     “Hello.”
     “Dr. Svit is coming over and I want you to be nice to him since mom said he’ll help you get well. You have to go with him Laier, you have no choice, he’s coming with...”
She hung up the phone and went back to her read­ing. No choice. No choice in what? I have no mother and I have no father. I have no brothers and no sisters. Well, except for one – Fale. Didn’t he just call?   The bell. Fuck! K.
She went and made coffee. Yum.
     “Hello. “
     “Where’s Dr. Svit? Didn’t he come over? He was supposed to be there over an hour ago. Laier, what have you done? Is Dr. Svit with you? Oh god. Laier? are you alone... Laier?”
She hung up the phone and went back to reading. One of these days she was going to get an answering machine. And she was not giving her number to anyone anymore. Never.

 

last updated August 17, 2007 | © 2007 Fathom Publishing
poetry, prose, and artwork © individual authours | website created by Alana Paul