Chapter Two

Chapter two of 'The Occurance Of Black'. I hope you enjoy it.

One Week Earlier

     Donnie Peaks owned a small store on Fischer Street near the center of Still Caverns. Although his store was referred to as 'Peaks' General Goods', he rarely conducted business that did not include coffee, the daily 'Still Caverns' Gazette', or tobacco (in its various forms).
     On the particular morning of February 10, 1997, Donnie made his way down his old oak staircase which emptied into the back room of his store. He tenanted the second and only other floor of his building. Shaking the drowsiness from him, he approached and unlocked the front entrance, expecting Jasmine, along with his usual morning customers.
     Jasmine Fischer (for whose father the street was named) was Mr. Peaks' one and only employee. Mr. Peaks' had hired Jasmine without hesitation, knowing she had refrained from causing or being associated with those that caused trouble. He hesitated not to hire her also for the fact of her obvious upbringing in a religous family ('obvious' I say because of her father being Still Caverns' only pastor). I state this only for the fact that Donnie Peaks was not a christian himself nor did he attend church.
     "Jasmine should be here any minute," he said aloud as he checked his watch mentally noting the time. It was a quarter after six.

     Jasmine hurridly made her way down Fischer Street chastising herself silently for not retiring to bed earlier the night before.
     "You just had to watch those movies didn't you?" She said aloud.
     Jasmine was intrigued by any and every 'scary' movie, book, or urban legend known to mankind...or at least Still Caverns. Her recent subjects of interest had been three 'premier' films on 'Late Night Horror' on Still Caverns' only local channel. Her particular favorite was the 'Fall Of The House Of Usher', which was very loosely based on the origional work of Edgar Allen Poe, and starred a John Williams which (in no reflection to his recent success in sience fiction and horror films) Jasmine had never before heard the name.
     "Good morning Ms. Fischer," Donnie said cheerily as Jasmine passed through the doorway, the door itself forced ajar with a rubber scotch, "and how are you this fine morning?" The adjective fine was used very loosely considering the overcast skies threatening to unload their heavy burden though Still Caverns' weather had been called for a average Spring day of sunshine and increasing warmth.
     "I'm a little tired I'm afraid," Jasmine replied as she took off her jacket, "I was up late watching movies."
     Donnie flashed her a smile as he turned and proceeded to the back room to fetch his freshly made coffee. The back room not only supplied the purpose of a storage room but also doubled as a kitchen used to fill breakfast orders as well as to fulfill Mr. Peaks' need of a kitchen in his own dwelling above.
     As I previously mentioned, Donnie was not a christian, but being the respectful gentleman that he always was, he only upheld two laws in his convienience store: keep the subject of conversation free of vulgar language and obscene events, and of course, no smoking. Rare was it that he would have to chastise anyone for his laws were well followed. Thankfully, his usuals wre gentlemen as well and did not approach mature subjects while in the company of a Ms. Jasmine Fischer- for which the rule was created.

     At approximately seven that morning, the usuals of Mr. Peaks' vacinity approached his establisment eager to discuss the abundance of rain apparently about to make itself known in the approaching storm. Upon seating themselves at the old oak tables, one by one Jasmine recieved their various orders. Although some randomly changed from day to day, most of their unique selections remained constant. Varying from scrambled eggs to french toast, Jasmine filled every order much to the satisfaction of the customers. Afterward, she spent her time cleaning the kitchen and filling randomly colored coffee mugs with whatever fancied the customer, whether black, cream or sugar along with the ocasional orange juice or milk.
     In her free moments she filled her mind with the remarkable story which was in fact the true version of 'The Fall Of The House Of Usher'.
     'He suffered much from a morbid acuteness of the senses; the most insipid food was alone endurable; he could wear only garments of certain texture; the odors of all flowers were oppressive; his eyes were tortured by even a faint light; and there were but peculiar sounds, and these from stringed instruments, which did not inspire him with horror.'
     After finishing this line she was awakened from her magical trance, being brought from a land created by a very imaginiative Edgar Allen Poe, and back to a new land, one filled with care and pain, success and failure. She was brought back to reality where her life dwelled with the purpose to serve God and otherwise no other purpose she supposed. She was by no means depressed, only lonely. She believed her life did have a purpose to be someday fulfilled. But for now she was in a valley in the great landscape of life.
     She jumped as Stacy placed a slender hand on Jasmine's left shoulder.
     "Jazz?" Stacy asked quietly.
     "Y-Yeah," she answered hesitantly, shocked by the evaporation and sudden reccollection of her mind as much as the physical appearance of Stacy, "are you OK?" She asked without realizing it. Stacy was her best friend despite the apparent age difference (Stacy was twenty-six with Jasmine only being nineteen) but Jasmine had never seen her like this, she with-held the appearance of a cadaver and the sound proceeding from her lips seemed to cause Stacy pain somewhere deep as she produced it.
     "Jazz?" She uttered once more as an arm, clothed in white sleeve of a medical lab coat swept across her shoulders.
     "There you are!" Spoke the owner of the arm and its apparel. "I've been looking for you," he continued in a hushed voice, "didn't I ask you to rest?"
     "W-What is going on?" Jasmine asked suddenly.
     "Nothing to cause alarm," he replied cooly, "Stacy has been working long hours and instead of asking her to leave after her shift, we insisted that she stay under our supervision until she recovered."
     "...Recovered from what?" Jasmine asked, not totally convinced.
     "Why her extreme exhaustion is all."
     The strange man lead Stacy out of the store hurridly, muttering on a level that Jasmine couldn't hear- though she strained too. For the first time she realized that the usuals (still enjoying their various conversations though their meal long ago consumed) were staring at the pair.
     The subject of conversation was immediately changed to the recent events as Jasmine watched through the window, following the man and Stacy with her eyes. Confused and worried, she quickly tried to convince herself that the man was right, Stacy wasjust tired, that was all. She had a hard time believing that- she had never seen that man before, so why should she trust him? With this burden of care upon her she tried to refocus her thoughts upon the tasks following the breakfast hour. Still, she could not clear away a particular concern. As the man accompanied Stacy to the door, Jasmine saw a single tear fall across Stacy's cheek. Jasmine told herself she imagined it, for it was impossible. The tear was realistic enough and Stacy was capable of crying- she knew this to be true. The impossible thought was the tear appearing crimson, dark, and thick. The tear was...she cringed at this thought...the tear was blood.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.