Moonlight Through The Pines

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/moishepesach on 2023-06-27 04:21:52+00:00.

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The seven sisters were wan, hangry, distraught and growing increasingly impatient. It was like a homecoming.

...

The Brooklyn sky was gray and threating to storm. My new office was a renovated one bedroom that looked out on the corner of 12th street and 6th avenue. It faced a busy corner that led to the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and Hugh Carey tunnel to lower Manhattan.

Business had been slow as of late. By slow, I meant my net worth was threatening to crawl under a duck. I had finally had enough as an IT consultant after the social policy non profit I was consulting for turned out to be rather anti-social, as in murder. But that's another story for another day.

I had busted my meager 401K and was now determined to make a go of it as a Psychic Investigator. And here I was; shingle and all, "Gary S. Kraft - Psychic Investigations & Guy Friday". I had a large green tea latte and some plain donuts and I was busy swiping through Tinder and trying not to think of destitution before the caffeine and sugar could take effect.

And that's when I realized I was a moron.

"Are you really Psychic?" a very gorgeous 52 year old brunette named, "Countess" quizzed me.

I had listed my occupation on my profile but it had never even occurred to me to market online. And me a full stack dev?!? See? A moron. But as they saying goes, God looks out for morons and drunks. Or was it fools and babies? Unemployed stoners & empathic loners?

Down on the corner Willy and the Poor Boys were nowhere to be found but I couldn't miss someone laying hard into their horn punctuated by an angry male voice dropping F-bombs like it might be the last day of Pompeii.

"It's widely acknowledged," I replied to the Countess.

A little red heart suddenly appeared next to my message. This certainly beat 13 channels of shit on the TV to choose from, choose from, from... But, I digress.

Then another message, "I need a man who isn't afraid of danger."

I replied, "Secret Agent Man" with a music emoji. I had issues. Weed and emojis might be two of them. But I try to not to dwell on that when it is apparently Bad Bitch O'clock. More hearts appeared on my screen.

"Where are you located?" I asked.

"Georgia," was the reply.

Fuck, I thought as the unmistakable whistle of El Pito by the Joe Cuba Sextet filled my room. I am psychic! Now the last time I was in Georgia I almost got my head split by a cop for stepping off the curb to try to flag a taxi.

When I tried to explain that's how you do it in New York it was like dropping a nuke in Mt. Saint Helens. And thus, not unlike Joe Cuba and his loyal sextet, I had taken an oath I would never go back to Georgia.

Then, another message.

"Your smile looks very sincere. We can pay you $10,000 for one night's work no questions asked!"

The music changed. It was Ray.

Georgia

A song of you (a song of you)

Comes as sweet and clear

As moonlight through the pines

"I will need a real phone number," I typed out.

One appeared as if by magic. And then, as if by magic, it was the next afternoon as I was deplaning at Sandusky County Regional Airport with only a knapsack for luggage and a down payment of $3500.00 US greenbacks in my checking account. Although the I had missed the sunset things were looking up. I whistled blue skies and made my way to the exit. I was about to text the Countess when, again, as if by magic, a finger tapped me from behind on my right shoulder.

I turned and there she was. Just like her photos.

"Countess," I said.

"Thank you Mr. Kraft for arriving on time. I have a car waiting outside for us. She then took me by the hand. It was cold. But she was hot. It was actually quite warm outside at 9:45pm and there was a white minivan waiting with it's hazards on.

Behind the wheel was another brunette who bore a striking resemblance to the Countess.

"This is the Duchess," the Countess said.

"Happy to know you, Duchess," I said glad not to be tapping on a phone for a change.

And then I noticed something. Five more brunettes who all bore a striking resemblance to the Countess. And they all bore royal titles for names. Except I hadn't noticed them when I first skooched into the van.

"Mr. Kraft. We will now drive for half an hour. On the way to our destination we will explain what it is you are to do."

"So what type of psychic stuff are we talking about here?" I asked the Countess.

She looked at me out of the corner of her dark eyes and made what looked like the beginning of a smile. It didn't last long.

"You said, '... and Guy Friday.'"

So I did.

"So you don't need a psychic?"

"No. We need a runner in the night."

"Tell me more," I said. And she did.

...

I said Georgia

Oh Georgia, no peace I find (no peace I find)

The full moon caressed the tree tops. I didn't really know what kind of trees they were but it was much darker than Brooklyn. And then we came to a stop.

"It's been too long," Duchess hissed.

"Okay, Mr. Kraft. It is time to earn your money."

I let some royalty strap their contraption around my chest. Velcro straps in place the Countess offered me a cigarette.

Her eyes seemed red.

"I quit smoking 16 years ago. Want to know how I did it?" I asked.

"No," she replied. And then she slid the minivan door exposing me to the Georgia woods.

"Follow the trail. At ten minutes in you will see a clearing and the light. Simply stop there and wait until exactly midnight to remove your coat so we may record."

"Pretty weird camera," I remarked.

"Do your job," she hissed.

So I did.

...

I wasn't supposed to use a flashlight. Just follow the trail in the moonlight. I looked up at the moon. It was so full and pink that I could reach up and touch it. I saw a black bird make a silhouette as it crossed the moon's path. My path was more on terra firma.

And then, I saw the light. And the clearing. I could hear voices. A lot of them. Someone was making a speech. And there were torches. I felt my brow furrow. Couldn't turn on the device till the stroke of midnight. I looked at my 90th anniversary Mickey Mouse watch, back when he went by the sobriquet, "Steamboat Willy." I didn't see steam. I saw....

FIRE

I then saw something else. Everybody was dressed the same. Like it was Halloween. I thought of my bank account and keeping my word. I thought about Joe Cuba and how maybe he had been right all along. I removed my windbreaker, tied it around my waist and exposed the device. Mickey Mouse who kept perfect time showed me two hands pointing at the full moon.

SHOWTIME

I pushed the red button in the center of my chest and hoped I wouldn't be blown to smithereens. I wasn't. Instead I heard Etta loud enough to hurt my eardrums.

All I want you to do is to make your bread

Just to make sure that you're well fed

I don't want you sad and blue

And I just wanna make love to you

Love to you, ooohooo

Love to you, oooh

...

I felt two hundred squinty eyes bid me unwelcome. I un-velcroed myself from Etta's serenade and proceeded to run through what was left of the still of the night. I was shocked how fast my feet fled. I felt like a mattress getting chased by sheets. And then I saw the red light.... And I ran towards it. Like my life and my bank balance depended upon it.

They were gaining on me. I could feel their angry footsteps. A branch hit my cheek and I saw red in my left eye.

A voice that sounded like a bad beer commercial yelled, "I got him!" and I felt fingers on my shoulder. I thought of the last time I had sex and wondered if that was the last time I would ever have sex.

My foot stumbled and I felt my ankle twist. And then another greasy hand on me. And the heat of a hundred torches. And then, as if by magic, I was up in the air.

I heard a voice say, "Whut the fuck?!?!?!?!" as it doppler effected into the background. A voice that sounded like the Countess said, "Stay here, Mr. Kraft. You have done your job."

...

A sea of red. A royal feast. Seven hungry sisters. Flying. Feeding. And the Countess in the lead. Torches dropping. Bodies running as I had just moments ago. Now the sisters were just blurs beneath the moonlight's pink hue.

And then, as if by magic, I heard Big Joe Turner through the pines...

I Said Shake Rattle And Roll;

You Never Do Nothin'

To Save Your Doggone Soul.

...

Ten minutes later I was back on terra firma and in the minivan.

"Check your balance," a somewhat contented, if even more disheveled Countess remarked.

I did. I was bucks up. And then I was wheels up. And then, as if by magic, I was back in Brooklyn.

I looked at Mickey for the time.

It was apparently Bad Bitch O'Clock and I think I was alright with that.

And then, as if by magic, there was a tap tap tapping on my window. And there sat a raven. And it quoth, "Speak of this, nevermore, Mr. Kraft."

And then my speaker suddenly played, "It don't mean a thing."

I said, it don't mean a thing, and all you gotta do is sing like

Nah, it makes no difference if it's sweet or hot

Just give that rhythm everything you got

Don't mean a thing, boy, if it ain't got that a swing ahhhhhh..... Take it Countess...