WHITE POWDER

It was hotter than any other year he could remember, and he could remember a lot of years doing this job. He wished he could remove his fedora and suit jacket but that wouldn’t be professional and he needed to remain professional. It was hard enough to get modest housewives to open the door let alone invite him in. It was always the same story – “my husband wouldn’t like it”, “I can’t make any decisions without speaking to my husband first”, “my baby is sleeping”.

Occasionally, though, he would come across a woman who was not afraid of her husband. Usually these women had been raised in a big city and moved to a small town or the suburbs after getting married. They were bolder and more adventurous. This town was tougher than most. He had counted five churches. He wondered how that could possibly be practical in a town so small but thought perhaps they catered to a large rural population.  He had considered doing rural runs but farms were more likely to have the man of the house home. If he was lucky, the man would be in the field but it was too much of a risk that he might have come in for a drink or to fix something. No, it was safer to stick to what he knew.

He pulled out his kerchief and wiped his brow before shoving it back into his pocket.  The next house on his list sat back from the road at the end of a long drive.  He saw the figure of a woman kneeling in front of a garden, methodically digging holes and placing plants in the holes.  He walked slowly up to her while clearing his throat. He didn’t want to startle her so badly that she would excuse herself and disappear into the house before he had a chance to speak with her.

The woman turned to look at him. Her hair was golden in the sun, pulled back into a loose bun. A few strands fell into her eyes and she brushed them away absently with a gloved hand.  He was struck by how beautiful she was yet plain at the same time.  She wore no makeup but her skin was flawless with just a few lines around her eyes and mouth to show she was not a young maiden anymore.  Her eyes alternated between blue and green depending on how she turned her head. She blinked at him, as if for a moment she wasn’t sure there was actually someone there.

She apologized, saying that she had been lost in thought and hadn’t realized he was there. She said she hoped he hadn’t been standing there too long in the heat. He assured her he had not and told her there was no need to apologize.  She smiled a smile so radiant that for a minute he forgot his purpose. But the pain in his head started to make his eyes blur and he raised his left hand to massage his temple.  She noticed the movement and thought it was from the heat. She told him he should come in out of the sun and get something cool to drink before he fell down in a faint.  As she rose he noticed how graceful she was, as if gravity had no impact on her movements.  One strap of her sundress fell off her left shoulder and she left it there as she removed her garden gloves and tossed them on the ground next to the yet-to-be planted flowers.  His eyes fixated on the white line it had left on her tanned, smooth shoulder.

She motioned to him to follow her around to the back of the house where a large porch offered cool, shaded respite.  Pointing at a very comfortable looking rocker she told him to rest and she’d go inside and make some fresh lemonade. Again, she smiled that smile. He gulped and nodded. Words escaped him.  While she was in the house he looked around the yard. It was a well-manicured lawn bordered by tall cypress trees. In the middle of the yard was what looked like a bird-bath or sun-dial. He couldn’t be sure because the sun was glinting off of it, obscuring a clear view.  He noticed a hole in the cypress near the back of the lawn that looked like a doorway with a path that led beyond.  He couldn’t see beyond but it didn’t matter; he wasn’t here to admire landscaping.

A few minutes passed and she returned with a tray containing a large glass pitcher filled with what looked like the most refreshing lemonade he had ever seen.  There were two highballs and a plate of watermelon.  He hadn’t realized his throat was parched until he saw the lemonade. He removed his hat and brushed his hand through his thick, wavy black hair. He had been told he was handsome, which was helpful in his line of work.  She set the tray down on the table next to the rocker and walked around to the back of his chair. He started when she put her hands on his shoulders, suggesting that he remove his jacket as well or he’d get heat stroke.  Slowly she pulled his jacket down over his arms and pulled it from behind, folding it and laying it across the porch railing.  He rolled up his shirt sleeves, showing well-toned forearms.

She was smiling again and he couldn’t take his eyes off that smile.  As she poured them both some lemonade she made small talk about how this was the hottest summer she could remember and she could remember too many summers. She blushed when she said this, realizing she was giving away information about her age.  As she handed him the glass, their fingers brushed and he felt a tingle of electricity run through his system. He hadn’t felt that in a very long time. He lowered his eyes hoping she wouldn’t notice the brief moment of lust.  He knew that he better start on his pitch before he lost his nerve. It had been too long since his last sale and he really needed this one. In fact, one could say his life depended on it.

He put down his glass after drinking half of it in one gulp and then cleared his throat.  He steadied himself and his gaze and looked up at her. She sat there quietly and expectantly.  He found this odd since most people were suspicious of strangers coming around and were generally unfriendly to unsolicited sales.  He began his story by asking the woman if she was married. Again she blushed and lowered her eyes. He quickly said that what he had to sell was for men, that he wasn’t trying to flirt with her.  She smiled and looked up. “Yes, I am,” she replied. “I removed my ring before gardening so that I wouldn’t ruin it.”  He nodded understandingly and said that he had come across other women who had done the same which is why he always asked.

“Does your husband ever feel really tired when he gets home from work? Does it ever feel like he just doesn’t have enough energy to pay attention to you the way you would like?” he asked.

She nodded and lowered her eyes. Her smile had faded and he regretted having to ask these questions.  He leaned in and told her that he had something that would change things for her and make her life so much more exciting.  At this she looked up inquisitively, her eyes searching his face to see if he was telling her the truth.  He swallowed hard at that look and reached down to open his briefcase.  Inside was a little brown box filled with a white powder that looked as fine as talc.  Her interest piqued, she leaned in a little closer and he could smell the jasmine emanating from her hair.  For a minute he forgot why he was there but then she broke the silence by asking what it was that he had in the box.

“This,” he said, “is a miracle powder.  Half a spoonful of this in a drink before bed and he’ll be a changed man within a day or two!”

He went on to explain that it was tasteless and odourless so her husband wouldn’t suspect a thing.  She smiled widely and cupped her chin in her right palm as she rested her right elbow on her knee.  As she leaned over he could see a little more of her cleavage and the familiar electrical shock went through his system again.  He reminded himself that she was married and there was a higher and more important purpose for him to be here than ogling this woman.  Although he did consider that he could return here after a bit and reintroduce himself. 

She looked at him coyly and asked how much it cost.  He smiled his best smile and told her it was a bargain; that he only had this one left to sell and he wanted to be heading home so he could give her a deal.  This was a lie, of course. He had no home to which he could return.  It had disappeared a long time ago along with everyone and everything he had ever known.  He showed her the price tag and told her that he was willing to go as low as half the price. She sighed and furrowed her brow. It wasn’t the look people got when they couldn’t afford something; it was more the look people got when they couldn’t decide whether or not they wanted to do something. Afraid that he might lose the sale, he reached over with his right hand and took her left hand in his. It was petite and cool in his large, warm hand.  She glanced up and they locked eyes.  For a moment he wasn’t sure he could go through with it but then she suddenly said that she would very much like to purchase the powder. She withdrew her hand and stood up, telling him that she had to go inside to find the money that she had put aside for just such surprise gifts.  She whirled around so quickly that she created a jasmine scented breeze that kissed his rough skin so sweetly that he closed his eyes to try and memorize the moment.

She returned with the cash and they made the exchange. She thanked him profusely and said that his timing was impeccable as she was starting to worry about the state of her marriage. She said she had felt as though her husband was losing interest in her and that nothing was as she had dreamed it would be after marrying him.  She grasped his hand in both of hers and squeezed.

“But you really must go now because he will be home soon and although he has been a bit distant lately he can still be fiercely jealous,” she whispered in his ear. Her breath on his neck was almost too much for him to bear. He picked up his hat and coat, retrieved his now empty case and started down the stairs of the porch.  He began walking around the house but she stopped him and said she could hear a car approaching. He hadn’t heard anything but the urgency in her voice convinced him that she couldn’t be laying.  She hurried down the stairs and grabbed his arm.

“This way,” she said, “just follow the path at the end of the garden and it will bring you out to a road that leads straight into town.”

He realized she was pointing at the opening in the cypress trees that he had noticed earlier.  She told him he should hurry, that there was no time to waste.  He quickly made his way to the path and stepped through the cypress.  He was surprised to find himself in an orchard and noticed that it wasn’t as hot back here as it had been by the house.  He assumed this was because of the shade from the trees.  He looked around to ensure he was still on the path, and once satisfied that he was he began walking.  The day had turned out better than he had hoped.  The muscles in his legs and arms had started to diminish and he knew that one more day and he wouldn’t be able to stand up let alone walk.  His eyes were still somewhat blurry but he could still make out his way.

After what felt like a few hours he came upon a dirt road that was dusty and looked as though it hadn’t been traversed in quite some time.  As he stood there he realized that she hadn’t told him which way to go in order to reach the town. He looked in both directions and finally made out a house in the distance to the east, so he started in this direction. At the very least he could get directions.  The sun had started to wane behind him and his shadow grew long in front of him as he walked. It always amazed him that his shadow would show his true form even though no one else could see it.  He was lost in thought and didn’t notice the vehicle approaching him from behind until it was almost upon him. He jumped at the sound of the horn.  A rusty old Chevrolet pulled up beside him and the driver leaned over to the passenger side and looked at him carefully.  It was a young man with unruly red hair and a copious amount of freckles scattered on his face and arms.  The kid asked the salesman if he needed a ride and after the salesman acknowledged that a ride would be wonderful, the kid opened the passenger door from the inside.  The salesman climbed in and noticed a thick smell of tobacco and sweat.  The kid grinned and started moving the car forward again.  Neither spoke until they got closer to the house.

“Where ya headin’?” asked the kid. “Are ya headin’ into town? ‘Cause I’m goin’ there myself right now.”

The salesman nodded and they drove past the house.  The house was decrepit. It didn’t look as though anyone had lived there for quite some time.  There were shudders hanging loosely off the windows and they would no doubt be swinging in the wind if there had been one.  There was no front door anymore, just an open black doorway that made the house look like a face with a mouth agape in a never-ending scream.  A child’s wooden swing on a rope hung from a very large and very old oak tree.  The land around the house was overgrown with weeds and brush and through the brush he could see the hood of a vehicle.

They drove on for another half hour before the salesman could make out the outline of buildings and realized they were close to the town. He told the kid that he could drop him off anywhere along here. The kid looked at him with that same grin and said he’d drop him at the local inn.  As they drove into town the salesman noticed that there were quite a few vacant storefronts. The only businesses that he could see were open were a barber, a convenience store, a post office, and a bakery.  He realized this wasn’t the town he had passed through before his last sale; there were no churches in sight and very few people for that matter.

The kid turned a corner and pulled up to an old mansion that had been converted into an inn.  It was called Shadow Lane Inn.  The salesman got out and thanked the kid for the ride. He tried to offer him some money for gas but the kid waved it off and said it was just the hospitable thing to do for a stranger.   The s alesman stood there for a moment while the Chevy backed out of the drive and headed back the way he had come.  Turning, he looked up at the old stone house. It looked very inviting compared to the rest of the town and he walked confidently up the steps and through the big oak door that had a sign saying ‘Please walk in’.  The house was cool and smelled of cooking and flowers.  He realized that he was very hungry and was pleased that the inn also served food.  An old lady appeared out of a doorway and slowly made her way toward him.  He noticed she was slightly hunched and seemed to be in pain with every step. Arthritis, no doubt, he thought to himself.  She stopped in front of him and managed a small smile.

“Do you need a room?” she asked.

He confirmed that he did indeed require a room and that he was also interested in dinner if that was available.  She smiled again and said that he was in luck because dinner would be ready within the next half hour.  She took his arm and led him into a small room which held a desk and several filing cabinets.  Opening one of the desk drawers she pulled out an old key, the heavy kind from those very old locks that he thought were obsolete.  She handed it to him and told him that his room was the third door on the left as soon as he climbed the stairs. She told him that she would accompany him but that her arthritis was really acting up on her.  The salesman smiled charmingly and told her that she needn’t worry about him.  She shuffled out of the room and headed toward what he assumed was the kitchen.

He walked into the large foyer and looked up. It was a remarkable sight looking up through the staircase.  He was amazed at how many floors there were as the house hadn’t looked that big from the outside.  In fact, it looked cavernous from the inside.  He stopped counting the floors at five when he heard a screech from one of the rooms on the main floor.  As he made his way toward that door it suddenly opened and a young child skipped out.  She looked to be no more than ten years old.  The salesman asked if she was ok; he told her he had heard a scream but she just looked up at him innocently and smiled as she skipped away.  He looked back at the door that had closed behind her and grasped the handle but the door was locked and wouldn’t budge.  He put his ear to the oak door but he heard no noise from the other side.  Shaking his head he told himself that the child must have been playing and that sometimes their shrieks of fun can sound like shrieks of pain.

The salesman returned to the staircase and made his way up to his room.  The rug on the floor looked a little worn but overall the room was clean and inviting.  The large, four-poster bed was covered with an inviting looking down comforter and the four pillows looked like clouds.  There was an armoire in the corner that had a closet on one side and drawers on the other.  The long window was slightly ajar to let in what little breeze there was but even still the room felt cool.  There was an en suite with a pedestal sink, toilet, and claw-footed bathtub.  He noted ruefully that there was no shower but he figured a bath was better than nothing and at least he didn’t have to share the facilities with other boarders like at his last stop.  He hadn’t brought a valise with him because he wasn’t going to be staying long.  Oddly, the landlady hadn’t asked him about that. All of his other landlords had asked why he didn’t have any luggage and always regarded him suspiciously because of that.  He lay down on the bed and started to think back to how all of this had started.  He remembered the Civil War and how he had been in the deep south fighting for the north and Lincoln’s vision.  He remembered what it felt like to be pierced by the blade of the Southern soldier’s bayonet and how he had fallen face down into the mud and thought that if the wound didn’t kill him then drowning in the mud surely would.  He didn’t remember how he came to be in the old rundown cabin in the bayou but upon waking up he was amazed that he was still alive.  There had been a moment where he thought he might actually be dead but an old man had wandered in and started speaking to him in a way that cooled his blood and he knew that only someone alive could feel that much fear. 

The old man was angry and venomous.  He was missing most of his teeth and those that he still possessed were black and chipped.  His grey hair and beard were matted and greasy and the wrinkles in his face were so deep that he hardly looked human.  After ranting about a son that he had lost to the war he had pulled out a white powder. The salesman didn’t want to remember all of this but he couldn’t help it. Some memories just wouldn’t stay down.  The old man told him that he had laid a curse on the young northern soldier, a curse of immortality. The old man poured the white powder into a glass of water and drank it.  He started to deteriorate even more right in front of the young man’s eyes.  As he faded, the old man told him that the recipe for the white powder was on the table beside him.  He said that as the soldier would age he would also start to deteriorate and it would be painful beyond his worse imaginings.  The only way to stay the pain was to have another man ingest the powder and his life force would regenerate the soldier.  The salesman remembered thinking that he would never do that; that he would never murder another man just so that he could live.  However, as the years passed and the pain set in he found he could not tolerate it and every time he tried to kill himself he would wake up to intolerable pain.  He also found that he wasn’t aging which was a problem as his wife and children aged.  He had realized at that time that he had to start moving on and never stop long enough for anyone to notice.  The salesman sighed as he lamented his fate and let his mind drift to the beautiful woman he had met earlier that day.  He fantasized about what it would be like to be with her and considered that once her husband met his demise perhaps he would stop by to console her for a little while.  This cheered him slightly, when he heard a faint knock on his door.  He opened it and looked down upon the little girl he had seen earlier. She giggled and told him it was dinnertime. Turning to skip down the stairs she motioned for him to follow.

The salesman closed the door behind him and followed the child down the stairs and down a long corridor.  The corridor was dark, absent of any light apart from the light behind him.  At one point he put his hand on the wall to ensure he was walking straight. He could still hear the girl giggling when she opened another door, a sliver of light pouring over her.  She looked different somehow now, as if she was impatient and naughty.  She pointed into the room indicating that he should go in.  The salesman entered the room but couldn’t get a good look at it because the light shone in his eyes.  All at once he felt strong arms grab him from behind and another set of arms grab the bottom of his legs from the front and pull up so that he was pulled off his feet. He started to struggle but found that he couldn’t move much because the arms that held him were too strong. He was placed on a table and his limbs were secured with what felt like leather straps.  He cried out and asked what was going on but all he could make out were muffled whispers. 

As his eyes adjusted to the light he could make out five figures in the room, all wearing masks of some sort. The masks were gruesome, as if they had been skinned from actual people and donned as one would a Halloween mask.  He did notice that one of them was quite small and realized with horror that it was the little girl.  His mind was reeling, wondering what the point to all of this could be since he had no valuables with him.  A hunched figure made its way behind his head, the old lady no doubt, he thought with a mind that was trying to think too quickly.  She pulled a leather strap over his forehead and secured his head to the table so that he could not move.  There were more whispers and then they all left the room, turning off the bright fluorescent light that had been swinging like a pendulum above the table. He heard the door latch and footsteps leading away from the door.

As he lay in the dark he tried to determine what he had stumbled into and how he could escape.  It occurred to him that he might not escape and it also occurred to him that it might not be such a bad thing.  Since he had failed at taking his own life perhaps if someone else took it then he would remain dead.  He was surprised that this thought had not occurred to him over the years, but he was skeptical it would work anyway since he always regenerated and came alive again.  The only regret he had was that he wouldn’t be able to spend time with the lovely lady he had encountered earlier in the day.  He had no regret that her husband would die; from what she had said it seemed she would be better off with someone else.  At some point he drifted off to sleep and didn’t wake again until he felt a tugging on his clothes.  He woke groggily and had to squint because the light was on.  He realized that his clothes were being cut from his body and soon he was entirely naked and shivering on the table.

His eyes, finally adjusted to the light, noticed that all five figures had gathered around the table and were holding forks and knives.  They had removed their masks and he recognized the child, the old lady, and the freckled kid who had given him a ride to town.  As he turned his head to the left he saw, with horror, that it was the beautiful woman to whom he had sold the powder. She smiled sweetly at him as if they were still sitting on the porch drinking lemonade.  His throat was dry and he couldn’t speak but she started speaking instead.  She introduced the fourth figure, the only one he hadn’t recognized, as her husband. He was a tall, auburn haired man with perfect skin and that same charming smile.  She said they had been waiting a long time for someone to wander into their domain and they were very grateful for his sacrifice as it meant they could continue to live again.

With absolute dread he realized that he hadn’t been invited to dinner; he had been invited as dinner.  He also realized that while he had been sizing the woman up to sell her his powder she had been doing the same to him as to whether he would make a decent meal.  She had no intention of giving the powder to her husband.

As they all started in with their carving and growling and crunching and slurping he had a brief epiphany that this was perhaps the only way that he could find peace. He realized that there was no regenerating from this and he was indeed breathing his last breaths.  For a moment he was also grateful but only a very brief moment before he starting screeching in pain and fear.  It wasn’t long before the screeching stopped.  It wasn’t long before he finally found peace.