All Soul’s Day- Memories of Victoria

“Clip, clop, clip clop.” Kristen heard the rhythmic sound of the approaching carriage. Remnants of a drizzly rain canvassed the cobblestone street with miniature ponds of filthy water. Mud streaked her well-worn boots. Fog surrounded the street lamps scarcely illuminating the front of the infirmary.

Tightness of the boned corset suffocated the desire to inhale the rain-cleansed air. Kristen clutched her dress upward, a vane attempt to correct her first misstep into the puddle. Decaying carcasses of rats littered the gulley.

The Ten Bells Pub’s front window framed it’s spare, drunken patrons. A worn-down prostitute with long black hair possessed dead , desperate eyes as she searched for one last client for the evening. Streaks of water remained on the bar top despite the bartender’s cursory attempt to wipe it clean. A skinny, poorly lad swept the floor in between coughs.

The lingering stench of urine and whiskey assaulted her nostrils as she passed the pub. This place is damned. No place for anyone at night. She quickened her walking pace, scanning the buildings leading to the alley. Clammy fingertips pressed on the back of her neck. Gooseflesh prickled her body as she snapped her body around to view the vacant walkway. Nobody was behind her, yet she couldn’t shake the sense that eyes continued to watch her every move.

She turned the corner to the alleyway. Two figures struggled in the dark alleyway. Kristen could hear the slice of the knife against the woman’s throat. The suited man ran quickly out of site. A thin crimson line now spurted blood from the young woman’s neck. Kristen pressed her hand against the slit throat. Blood wouldn’t stop and her hands were stained with it. The young woman’s eyes fluttered as she tried to grasp Kristen’s hand. “Victoria” she barely managed to whisper. Her dark brown eyes went still as her failed attempt at clasping Kristen’s hand saw her hand fall to the ground. She’s dead. Help me. We need help.

“Dong.. Dong”.. Kristen awoke to the vibrations of “Hell’s Bell’s” by ACDC. Didn’t make it. damned nightmare . Wiping the beads of sweat from her body she willed her racing heartbeat to calm. She pushed the off button on her CD alarm clock. Padding across the carpet into the kitchen the smell of French Carmel coffee embraced her as she watched the special brew drip slowly into the carafe. The smell is sometimes better than the taste. She swirled extra cream and sugar into her coffee until it was the color of antique lace. She was careful not to clink the spoon against the pink chintz china cup. Part of an antique set that she would have difficulty replacing if chipped. She buttered a slice of banana bread. The caffeine and sugar would take effect quickly. The relentless nightmare had taken it’s toll on her physically and mentally. Twenty-eight days in a row she had this reoccurring nightmare. I just want it to stop and get my life back to normal.

Kristen pulled her long blonde hair into a scrunchie and tossed lavender bath salts into the large whirlpool bathtub. She needed to get to work. The Brass Ring Antiques Store has been her dream for years. Nestled in between IHOP pancakes and The Curiosity Shop in a historical part of Phoenix, Arizona. Seven years of determination had paid off. She had a waiting list of vendors hoping to rent space in her thriving shop. It more than paid the bills and while not rich she was financially comfortable at the age of twenty-eight.

Drying her athletic body with a towel, she cleansed her pale skin. A hint of eye shadow, lipstick and mascara. How come I can’t ever get it right? amused at the newest “one sweep eyes shadow” that made her blue eyes stand out in a scary way . The magazine article made it look so easy. Smoky eyes my butt. Raccoon eyes. Well tomorrow is Halloween. Maybe I can use it as The Bride of Frankenstein. Quickly she regressed to her normal beige . Smart dress pants and a pink blouse suited her as she locked the door to her townhouse and slipped behind her Mustang.

An easy twenty-minute drive as she listened to Adele’s newest tune. The front of The Brass Ring Antiques twinkled with jack’ lanterns. The cottony spider webs were fun too complete with large tarantulas. Kristen made her way to the register. The store was busy already as Mike, the manager came to greet her. “Good Morning, Kristen.” What do you think? as he pointed to the new We Sell On eBay banner that filled a half of one of the walls. “it’s perfect.” Yet another way to engage customers to her store. They could sell their own items for a thirty percent commission for the store.

Kristen gazed upon the glistening glass cabinets filled with fine china, dolls from generations ago. A recent vendor added some iridescent splash with his neon beer sign collection. The store was kept very clean and wafted the aroma of vanilla cookies. There was a small bakery and coffee spot for her customers. They could also browse the latest collectibles price guides. Every item from postcards to Pez dispenser guides were available. Kristen grabbed a second cup of coffee from the bakery and sipped it while assisting customers with the locked cabinets.

“Clink, Clink” went the cheerful bell upon the door signaling someone’s arrival or departure. A short elderly woman held a cardboard box in front of her smart dress. She wore sensible shoes and her hair was tied neatly in a bun. She made her way to the eBay selling counter. Kristen could see Mike delighted at his first eBay customer. Kristen continued to talk up the merits of the rhinestone necklace to the eager buyers.

“Sorry to interrupt, Kristen.” Mike said quietly. “She is asking for you.” Kristen stared at the elderly woman whom just reached over the tall counter by a few feet. “For me?” “Why?’ “She won’t talk to anybody but you. Kristen excused herself and made her way to the counter. “Kristen.” the feeble lady looked at her with dark brown eyes and smiled. “yes.” “This is for you.” as she uncovered the box top. Kristen peered upon an antique leather photo book and a fine porcelain figure of a woman. “You want me to list these for you on eBay?” “No” responded the woman. These items have been in our family for over a hundred years. They are for you. I can’t just take them from her. “Let me pay you for them.” Kristen headed towards the large brass cash register” No. Absolutely not Kristen. They are yours.” Her smile was contagious. She held her hand outward and clasped Kristen’s. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. Enjoy them.” with that she proceeded out the front door leaving Kristen speechless. How can they be for me? Seriously, maybe she read about the store in the last newspaper advertisement. Is she is going to an old folks home?.”

Kristen opened the leather-bound parched pages. The first page was filled with Valentine’s cards. Lovely illustrations of women among a cherubic cupid. Yet another held a photo of London, England in the late 18800’s. Incredible. These are so rare. The next page held a tin type photo of a young girl. Not smiling but in a fanciful dress with a bow in her hair. Another tin type held the image of a dashing handsome man with a mustache and fine suit. “Oh .. no.” Kristen couldn’t contain the words as she stood motionless at the next photo. It’s Her. The woman of my nightmares. Oh my God. How can she possibly be here..With hands shaking she gazed upon Victoria’s likeness. Long flowing brown hair done up with a brilliant feathered hat. Her eyes no longer lifeless but full of love . She carefully touched the photo and it caused waves of anxiety to fill her body.

The next page had an illustration of Victoria clipped from an old newspaper. Carefully she studied the glue that held the illustration in place. I must work on this as once. Kristen scooped up the box containing the photo book and figurine. “Ill see you tomorrow Mike.” Kristen said replied promptly as she hurried her way to the door. “Are you alright? Mike responded. “Is everything o.k.?” the look on his face showed his concern. I must look like hell. “Something unexpected has come up.” with that she pushed her way out of the store.

Surrounded by the familiarity of her home, her anxiousness calmed a bit. Carefully she placed the leather photo book on her dining table along with the porcelain figure. She retrieved an exacto knife from her drawer and opened the book to the illustration. Carefully she worked the illustration free. She turned it over to read “As I gazed upon the glorious mountainside full of brilliant sun I prayed to God that I could remain here for an eternity. Content with glorious life. This it her. How can I help her this time. I must help her.

The day was spent in a futile attempt to find Victoria. Hours of searches had yielded nothing. No photo or full name. There has to be a way to help. Kristen took the photo of Victoria and the illustration which she taped on her wall above her headboard. The porcelain figurine looked just like Victoria too. Her brown eyes and fanciful dress. The eyes of the figurine were the last thing Kristen remembered before reluctantly falling asleep.

“Clip, clop.” Kristen heard the faint sounds of the carriage as she stared at the Pub’s window. I am here earlier than usual and nothing will stop me. Kristen tore off her ill-fitting boots. Quickly she passed the pub and made her way to the alley way. “Stop it you bastard.” Kristen yelled to the suited man. She could see the horrid knife. He looked up in surprised and dropped his grip on Victoria. “Are you alright.” Victoria stammered and tried to catch her breath. “You saved my life.” she cried as she hugged Kristen. “You are an angel.” “Thank you .” Kristen heard Victoria’s last sentence in an echo as the alarm went off. Kristen woke not in a fit of anxiety but with a calm sense of relief. She gazed upon the figurine which was now smashed into a dozen pieces. Inside it was a parched piece of paper neatly folded.

Kristen picked it up and carefully unfolded the paper. Inside was a note scrawled in perfect ink letters. She slowly took in the meaning.

There are no words to describe what you did for me. I am forever indebted to your kindness and compassion. The horrible knife wielder is a stranger and he has taken more lives. He has sliced others into shreds. The photos are of me, Victoria Ana Dowling. My child is blessed to look like you Kristen. Your name came to me on All Souls Day. A poorly woman asked for food. Upon giving it to her she prayed for me and gave me your name written. May God bless you.

Victoria


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