Can You Hear Me Knockin'? [Gold Rush Rumble]
Apr 14, 2016 11:20:57 GMT -5
Post by AshCandor on Apr 14, 2016 11:20:57 GMT -5
[On Camera]
I keep searching for that special kind of something. It’s a feeling inside me, and I’m trying to grasp it in my mind’s eye with a slippery fist. Through slippery fingers it slithers, ever elusive. You can’t grip water and you can’t throw your arms around smoke. It’s not tangible but I know it’s there. Maybe it’s just my mistake, we start searching for a moment, something to put our finger on. This is it, this is why other things happened. The catalyst, the spark that ignited a flame that engulfed the world. I know it’s there, like a flicker. Sometimes like a pilot light it has to be re-lit… but in the right circumstances, when it is required, when the world grows cold, the warmth will rise. Let’s just say… baby’s getting cold, and the Witch needs some warmth and consolation. When that moment arrives, and that feeling inside me catches fire… FGA will burn, baby burn.
See… the thing about me is, I’m not comparing myself to anyone else. That is the road to ruin. I don’t want to be anybody else… the makeup of my DNA and my resolve in general is one of uniqueness… not assimilation into someone else. I wouldn’t wish trying to be me on anyone else, let me tell you. The only person you need to impress is yourself. If you are not at the same time your biggest advocate and critic, then you won’t be that genuine and might just fall prey to being gullible and manipulated by others playing you. Set your goal, and let that be your measuring stick. Worry about your own wants and needs, handle your business at home but always keep an eye open to the surroundings… a finger up to see which way the wind is blowing. Opportunity is the doorway to success, and you can treat that door a number of different ways. You can walk on down the hall, and pass it up never giving it a glance. You can walk past and look at it longingly. You can go up to it and meekly knock upon it, barely audible like the breath of a mouse. That doesn’t get you anywhere, gain you entry. Maybe you’d jiggle the handle, just barely giving it a turn and find that it doesn’t have much give to it. Is it locked or is the door just jammed up a bit? You didn’t put any force behind it, so you’ll never know. Maybe you’d bang on the door like a belligerent annoying punk until you bothered enough ears that either they let you in or tell you to buzz off. Or you’d rather lower your shoulder and put your weight into it blasting the door off its hinges and thunder into a room like a startling aggressor. Maybe you’re good at picking locks, and you’d rather be secretive about the whole process. That method tells me you really weren’t supposed to be in there to begin with. Me? The way I feel about it is… if you walk to that door with confidence, give it a good hearty knock and turn of the handle… if you’re honest with whoever greets you and say that you desire entry into this room because you deserve to be in there, you belong in there because that is the place where it all happens. It’s time to experience the magic, and even though for some that room might feel exclusive… maybe too far out of reach, you still know it’s there. And once you gain proper entry, once you set foot inside and see all there is to see… let your senses drink it in, grow accustomed. It’s a special kind of room which should be looked at with respect and reverence. Then you can say you’ve gained access, and the key is forged; you’ll never have to ask for permission or even knock again. You can move freely in and out now.
Am I getting through, do you sense the spark I speak of? That ring is the doorway, the Gold Rush Rumble is the opportunity; entry to the room at the top of the world. For some it might feel like you’re a gunslinger, who’s trudged up those steps and standing at the threshold waiting to get in. Do you get a sense of déjà vu? Some of you in this match have stepped to the door and sought the opportunity before. Did you prepare? Did you do everything you possibly could, thought of every possible essential item and process to achieve your goal? This is my first time stepping to the doorway and looking for that opportunity… the chance to win the Gold Rush Rumble, earning a shot at the FGA World Title. My preparation has been physical, mental, emotional. In my heart I have a song that will whisper a tune in the ears of all involved, and it will carry on through like the wind through a keyhole. I have endured the wasteland and the wolves nipping at my heels, I can hear their howls, have felt their bite. The thing about any epic is you can’t truly appreciate the scope of it in the moment. In these two-plus years I’ve been in this ring I have had peaks and valleys. Title reigns of record-breaking length. Injuries that I felt might spell the end of me in the ring. I have loved and lost, I never claimed to be perfect, and I have found some peace and violence along the way.
People ask me why I do what I do. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror. I have to prove this to myself over and over again.. no matter the peak or the valley I’m in; with the good or bad it is a sense of proving that I belong. Everything is work, constantly. When you start taking things for granted, that is when they slip away from you. Objectives and goals that were near feel further miles and miles away in the blink of an eye. Nobody gained anything of value by just being handed it; that possession is hollow, you shouldn’t exude an abundance of pride for that sort of thing. There is no sense of appreciation gained from a handout, and such things can often jade your worldview in the long run. Love me or hate me, I can look at each and every one of you and myself and say I have earned everything. The things I’ve lost, haven’t achieved? That’s on me too, for not hitting the mark; running into a person or situation that was bigger than me at the time. Sometimes your best just isn’t enough, but you go back and tinker…try to move that needle further up the scale of what your best is. Losing and failing sucks, plain and simple. You can apply that to the wrestling ring, or to life in general. Nobody likes to lose, and nobody cultivates great joy from missing the mark. Winning and losing happens every day in the ring and on the street. It’s been going on forever. The real test is how you react to it. Did you learn, did you take things from it you can improve on? Did you fold up and retreat into a shell or dust yourself off and keep going? I’m here before you today, aren’t I? I’m not cowering in fear in a dark corner somewhere, so I will let that sink in and speak for itself about where I stand.
For I stand here and I see the reality and the weight of the situation before me. The Gold Rush Rumble is an exclusive opportunity. You look at the list of winners and you see only two names: Cordy Stevenson, last year’s winner. Dom Harter, who won the first two and even the World Title itself when it was on the line at the 2014 event. Fortunately for those involved this year, barring any surprises these two are not participating in the match this year, but even if they were… the mission is the same. Capitalize on the opportunity. The entries in this event are varied: people who have never held gold, people who have held gold in other places, and even current and former champions within FGA itself. Once that bell rings, it doesn’t matter what you did before. The Gold Rush Rumble is a clean slate, so what are you going to write upon it? What are you willing to do to make your mark? There is nothing I want more on that night then to enter the doorway, work my magic in there and then when it is all done etch my name on a plaque upon the mantle perhaps… the exclusive group gains a new member. Hopefully it is a very witchy one.
But how, you might ask. How do I intend to outlast… outwit such a group of individuals all gunning for the same thing. If I told you my secret plan it wouldn’t be such a secret plan now would it? But even then, the unpredictability of such an event will shred a game plan to tattered pieces. The most obvious thing to implement is the most essential element of the whole process: don’t let yourself get thrown over the top rope and your feet hit the floor. If you don’t let that happen, you have a very good chance of winning the Gold Rush Rumble. No, you will absolutely win the Rumble if you can abide that simple guideline. Personal feelings aside, once that bell rings everyone is an enemy and a threat to you in there. If you don’t believe that, then you will very quickly find yourself headed towards the back hitting the showers if you let your guard down for a single moment. Alliances might develop in there, you never know… but they are fleeting and temporary, of course. The hand that helps could very likely be the one stabbing you in the back in the next moment. It’s understood… a match like this boils it down to a basic human element of survival. Even the very surroundings themselves are enemies and allies in their own way. That top rope around the ring is suspended there, taunting you. It knows it will be there, but it hangs almost questioning whether you can get the next person over it… and the arena floor is the second conspirator for there are two parts that must be achieved in the process. The floor doesn’t care if the feet touch it or not. So don’t show it any courtesy either; throw these people onto it as hard as you can. Leave little doubt; eliminate and repeat until the ropes and the floor have done their job assisting you thin the herd. Until there was only one… the last one: finality and completion. Opportunity acknowledged, grasped, and taken.
I have said all of these things to you so far and it may seem like it comes off nice, diplomatic, and politically correct even. I think it is time to hit you with the real talk that I’m really just dancing around. I want this… badly. I don’t care if I throw out every single one of you, or just one… hell, maybe I’m just the last one laying in the ring in a pool of my own blood after a couple of you roll over the ropes in a mad tussle in the end. That works too. Pure and simple, I want to win the Gold Rush Rumble. It’s not in my general nature to be greedy and selfish, but in this instance it burns me up inside. With everyone watching and so many quality peers in the ring, I want to outwit and outwrestle and outlast every single one of you on this night. Only one person will ever be able to say they were the 2016 Gold Rush Rumble winner. You better believe it’s going to be me, and if not it better be because I damn near died trying to achieve this goal. You won’t see me half-ass it out there. You won’t see me disrespect myself or the business. You can’t deny, you’ve felt the warmth… the small flicker of a flame that sparked when I first set foot within FGA; the initial spell cast by the Witch herself. I just want to throw gasoline to it, let it spread… light FGA on fire with my passion, intensity, and resolve… every one of you spellbound. I’m not one to yell from every mountaintop “look at me!”. I tend to let me actions in the ring speak volumes, so it can be other people shouting “look at her!”. I just want every person on their feet at the end of the night, and in that moment let the voices of many echo as one through the arena, through FGA, and throughout the world: “Look at Salem Cartier, the winner of the 2016 Gold Rush Rumble.” And the only thing better than that would be… what comes next. But we won’t worry about that, just yet. For the time is now, I’m standing on the threshold, I’m knocking on the door, and I’m coming in.
‘Tis the Season.
[OFF CAMERA]
It was late in the Cartier household. Artemis slept soundly upstairs. Salem sat in the big high-backed leather chair in her house. Whether consciously or subliminally she had turned this room into an office, and how eerily it seemed to echo the office of her father from her youth. The books on the shelves, ranging from studies on the occult to horror novels to the history of cereal to episode and character guides on cartoons like The Simpsons… these echoed a great many facets of the quirks that made her up. She had her headphones on listening to a mix of late ‘70s/early ‘80s punk… the pure original wave. The Ramones running through a cover, actually:
“Still it begins
Needles and pins
Because of all my pride
The tears I gotta hide”
She turned the pink blanket over and over again in her lap. It seemed so ludicrous, how could she ever forget something as monumental as bearing a child? Her mind had betrayed her obviously…the accident had caused some sort of trauma, shunted her memories into a dark crevasse where they had stayed wedged. But now they were loosed. She had looked, searched relentlessly… no hospital had a record of her stay from the accident, no record existed of her having had a child either. The compound she’d resided at in Virginia was just a ghost town, no public record existed of what became of the residents… the couple she’d left Lily Minerva with had vanished into thin air in the interim. All of her searching led to more questions and even more searching. Pieces of the puzzle had floated into view, but the big picture proved elusive. Salem was only comfortable with the smallest of circles knowing any of this. The general population wouldn’t understand, might possible ridicule it. Salem still didn’t understand it herself.
In many ways, it was a hell of a thing, what she did… dealing with this turn of events. Compartmentalizing different aspects of herself: friendship, love, hobbies, work… depending on who you were you got to see a different Salem face. She didn’t like it, but it was how it had to be… until she could adequately come to grips with all this. Even with support, some days she felt like she was coming apart at the seams, a particular knot in her gut that never properly went away. She didn’t have an ulcer… not yet anyway, thank god. It was in her head and in her heart that things remained twisted and jumbled. The smiling slapstick freewheeling Salem that showed herself on social media at times was a coping mechanism.
Whatever agreement she had ironed out years ago to let the couple raise her baby felt inconsequential now; any way you sliced it she had abandoned a child. A child she had no idea on the whereabouts of… or even more morbidly, the thought of if she was even alive or dead. Once the gears of a frustrated brain are set into motion, there is no telling where the train of thought might veer. She hated herself for even thinking along those lines, but she couldn’t stop.
“No, no… Lily is alive… stop it! She’s five, going to be six in December!”
She covered her mouth, realizing she’d blurted that out loud. Salem hoped she hadn’t awakened Artemis or Lukas, the child that Artemis had struck up a friendship with and recently adopted. That was another thing, Salem couldn’t vocalize: they were parents, but this wasn’t HER child. Stupid selfish thoughts in her own mind; Lukas didn’t deserve that, he was a sweet boy who had such a hard upbringing. All he deserved was love and happiness, and he was going to get that. They were unified on that front. Artemis was her rock and she would do anything for her. Salem always endeavored to be her absolute best for the ones she loved. Even if her own heart was troubled. Her lids grew heavy, and even though she didn’t feel like sleeping… it wasn’t good to betray your body’s natural impulses. Just a few more songs and then…
The blanket slipped from her grasp onto the floor.
-
She woke up some time later, it was still night. She felt for the blanket on her lap and it wasn’t there… looked on the floor, it wasn’t there either. Salem furrowed her brow and then her eyes focused a bit more: on the desk sat a note and a tape recorder. She picked up the folded note… and it said only two words:
‘Play Me’
She picked up the recorder and did just that. It was static-filled as she listened and then finally, a voice:
“We had hoped that you would not remember. It is unfortunate that you did. You need to call off your search. To prove that we are serious about this, you will find that the pink baby blanket is no longer in your possession. It was something we had missed years ago. That error is now corrected. Should you continue your pursuits, be warned that we may take… other things.”
Salem’s lip trembled and her eyes welled with tears…. A slight pause in the tape, she thought the message was over but…
“Ah yes… the child. As you know now…again…. the child is real. We cannot tell you where she is, but rest assured her living conditions are good and she is not under any harm. Listen to this and say goodbye… she will have a good life, but you will not see her…”
Salem could not believe what she was hearing, and then….
“Mommy? Mommy, I love you. I…” *CLICK*
He muffled male voice came back on.
“There… now forget this. We have eyes everywhere. Goodnight, Salem.”
The tape ended, and she rewound it…
“Mommy? Mommy, I love you. I…” *CLICK*
“Mommy? Mommy, I love you. I…” *CLICK*
“Mommy? Mommy, I love you. I…” *CLICK*
“Mommy? Mommy, I…..”
I keep searching for that special kind of something. It’s a feeling inside me, and I’m trying to grasp it in my mind’s eye with a slippery fist. Through slippery fingers it slithers, ever elusive. You can’t grip water and you can’t throw your arms around smoke. It’s not tangible but I know it’s there. Maybe it’s just my mistake, we start searching for a moment, something to put our finger on. This is it, this is why other things happened. The catalyst, the spark that ignited a flame that engulfed the world. I know it’s there, like a flicker. Sometimes like a pilot light it has to be re-lit… but in the right circumstances, when it is required, when the world grows cold, the warmth will rise. Let’s just say… baby’s getting cold, and the Witch needs some warmth and consolation. When that moment arrives, and that feeling inside me catches fire… FGA will burn, baby burn.
See… the thing about me is, I’m not comparing myself to anyone else. That is the road to ruin. I don’t want to be anybody else… the makeup of my DNA and my resolve in general is one of uniqueness… not assimilation into someone else. I wouldn’t wish trying to be me on anyone else, let me tell you. The only person you need to impress is yourself. If you are not at the same time your biggest advocate and critic, then you won’t be that genuine and might just fall prey to being gullible and manipulated by others playing you. Set your goal, and let that be your measuring stick. Worry about your own wants and needs, handle your business at home but always keep an eye open to the surroundings… a finger up to see which way the wind is blowing. Opportunity is the doorway to success, and you can treat that door a number of different ways. You can walk on down the hall, and pass it up never giving it a glance. You can walk past and look at it longingly. You can go up to it and meekly knock upon it, barely audible like the breath of a mouse. That doesn’t get you anywhere, gain you entry. Maybe you’d jiggle the handle, just barely giving it a turn and find that it doesn’t have much give to it. Is it locked or is the door just jammed up a bit? You didn’t put any force behind it, so you’ll never know. Maybe you’d bang on the door like a belligerent annoying punk until you bothered enough ears that either they let you in or tell you to buzz off. Or you’d rather lower your shoulder and put your weight into it blasting the door off its hinges and thunder into a room like a startling aggressor. Maybe you’re good at picking locks, and you’d rather be secretive about the whole process. That method tells me you really weren’t supposed to be in there to begin with. Me? The way I feel about it is… if you walk to that door with confidence, give it a good hearty knock and turn of the handle… if you’re honest with whoever greets you and say that you desire entry into this room because you deserve to be in there, you belong in there because that is the place where it all happens. It’s time to experience the magic, and even though for some that room might feel exclusive… maybe too far out of reach, you still know it’s there. And once you gain proper entry, once you set foot inside and see all there is to see… let your senses drink it in, grow accustomed. It’s a special kind of room which should be looked at with respect and reverence. Then you can say you’ve gained access, and the key is forged; you’ll never have to ask for permission or even knock again. You can move freely in and out now.
Am I getting through, do you sense the spark I speak of? That ring is the doorway, the Gold Rush Rumble is the opportunity; entry to the room at the top of the world. For some it might feel like you’re a gunslinger, who’s trudged up those steps and standing at the threshold waiting to get in. Do you get a sense of déjà vu? Some of you in this match have stepped to the door and sought the opportunity before. Did you prepare? Did you do everything you possibly could, thought of every possible essential item and process to achieve your goal? This is my first time stepping to the doorway and looking for that opportunity… the chance to win the Gold Rush Rumble, earning a shot at the FGA World Title. My preparation has been physical, mental, emotional. In my heart I have a song that will whisper a tune in the ears of all involved, and it will carry on through like the wind through a keyhole. I have endured the wasteland and the wolves nipping at my heels, I can hear their howls, have felt their bite. The thing about any epic is you can’t truly appreciate the scope of it in the moment. In these two-plus years I’ve been in this ring I have had peaks and valleys. Title reigns of record-breaking length. Injuries that I felt might spell the end of me in the ring. I have loved and lost, I never claimed to be perfect, and I have found some peace and violence along the way.
People ask me why I do what I do. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror. I have to prove this to myself over and over again.. no matter the peak or the valley I’m in; with the good or bad it is a sense of proving that I belong. Everything is work, constantly. When you start taking things for granted, that is when they slip away from you. Objectives and goals that were near feel further miles and miles away in the blink of an eye. Nobody gained anything of value by just being handed it; that possession is hollow, you shouldn’t exude an abundance of pride for that sort of thing. There is no sense of appreciation gained from a handout, and such things can often jade your worldview in the long run. Love me or hate me, I can look at each and every one of you and myself and say I have earned everything. The things I’ve lost, haven’t achieved? That’s on me too, for not hitting the mark; running into a person or situation that was bigger than me at the time. Sometimes your best just isn’t enough, but you go back and tinker…try to move that needle further up the scale of what your best is. Losing and failing sucks, plain and simple. You can apply that to the wrestling ring, or to life in general. Nobody likes to lose, and nobody cultivates great joy from missing the mark. Winning and losing happens every day in the ring and on the street. It’s been going on forever. The real test is how you react to it. Did you learn, did you take things from it you can improve on? Did you fold up and retreat into a shell or dust yourself off and keep going? I’m here before you today, aren’t I? I’m not cowering in fear in a dark corner somewhere, so I will let that sink in and speak for itself about where I stand.
For I stand here and I see the reality and the weight of the situation before me. The Gold Rush Rumble is an exclusive opportunity. You look at the list of winners and you see only two names: Cordy Stevenson, last year’s winner. Dom Harter, who won the first two and even the World Title itself when it was on the line at the 2014 event. Fortunately for those involved this year, barring any surprises these two are not participating in the match this year, but even if they were… the mission is the same. Capitalize on the opportunity. The entries in this event are varied: people who have never held gold, people who have held gold in other places, and even current and former champions within FGA itself. Once that bell rings, it doesn’t matter what you did before. The Gold Rush Rumble is a clean slate, so what are you going to write upon it? What are you willing to do to make your mark? There is nothing I want more on that night then to enter the doorway, work my magic in there and then when it is all done etch my name on a plaque upon the mantle perhaps… the exclusive group gains a new member. Hopefully it is a very witchy one.
But how, you might ask. How do I intend to outlast… outwit such a group of individuals all gunning for the same thing. If I told you my secret plan it wouldn’t be such a secret plan now would it? But even then, the unpredictability of such an event will shred a game plan to tattered pieces. The most obvious thing to implement is the most essential element of the whole process: don’t let yourself get thrown over the top rope and your feet hit the floor. If you don’t let that happen, you have a very good chance of winning the Gold Rush Rumble. No, you will absolutely win the Rumble if you can abide that simple guideline. Personal feelings aside, once that bell rings everyone is an enemy and a threat to you in there. If you don’t believe that, then you will very quickly find yourself headed towards the back hitting the showers if you let your guard down for a single moment. Alliances might develop in there, you never know… but they are fleeting and temporary, of course. The hand that helps could very likely be the one stabbing you in the back in the next moment. It’s understood… a match like this boils it down to a basic human element of survival. Even the very surroundings themselves are enemies and allies in their own way. That top rope around the ring is suspended there, taunting you. It knows it will be there, but it hangs almost questioning whether you can get the next person over it… and the arena floor is the second conspirator for there are two parts that must be achieved in the process. The floor doesn’t care if the feet touch it or not. So don’t show it any courtesy either; throw these people onto it as hard as you can. Leave little doubt; eliminate and repeat until the ropes and the floor have done their job assisting you thin the herd. Until there was only one… the last one: finality and completion. Opportunity acknowledged, grasped, and taken.
I have said all of these things to you so far and it may seem like it comes off nice, diplomatic, and politically correct even. I think it is time to hit you with the real talk that I’m really just dancing around. I want this… badly. I don’t care if I throw out every single one of you, or just one… hell, maybe I’m just the last one laying in the ring in a pool of my own blood after a couple of you roll over the ropes in a mad tussle in the end. That works too. Pure and simple, I want to win the Gold Rush Rumble. It’s not in my general nature to be greedy and selfish, but in this instance it burns me up inside. With everyone watching and so many quality peers in the ring, I want to outwit and outwrestle and outlast every single one of you on this night. Only one person will ever be able to say they were the 2016 Gold Rush Rumble winner. You better believe it’s going to be me, and if not it better be because I damn near died trying to achieve this goal. You won’t see me half-ass it out there. You won’t see me disrespect myself or the business. You can’t deny, you’ve felt the warmth… the small flicker of a flame that sparked when I first set foot within FGA; the initial spell cast by the Witch herself. I just want to throw gasoline to it, let it spread… light FGA on fire with my passion, intensity, and resolve… every one of you spellbound. I’m not one to yell from every mountaintop “look at me!”. I tend to let me actions in the ring speak volumes, so it can be other people shouting “look at her!”. I just want every person on their feet at the end of the night, and in that moment let the voices of many echo as one through the arena, through FGA, and throughout the world: “Look at Salem Cartier, the winner of the 2016 Gold Rush Rumble.” And the only thing better than that would be… what comes next. But we won’t worry about that, just yet. For the time is now, I’m standing on the threshold, I’m knocking on the door, and I’m coming in.
‘Tis the Season.
[OFF CAMERA]
It was late in the Cartier household. Artemis slept soundly upstairs. Salem sat in the big high-backed leather chair in her house. Whether consciously or subliminally she had turned this room into an office, and how eerily it seemed to echo the office of her father from her youth. The books on the shelves, ranging from studies on the occult to horror novels to the history of cereal to episode and character guides on cartoons like The Simpsons… these echoed a great many facets of the quirks that made her up. She had her headphones on listening to a mix of late ‘70s/early ‘80s punk… the pure original wave. The Ramones running through a cover, actually:
“Still it begins
Needles and pins
Because of all my pride
The tears I gotta hide”
She turned the pink blanket over and over again in her lap. It seemed so ludicrous, how could she ever forget something as monumental as bearing a child? Her mind had betrayed her obviously…the accident had caused some sort of trauma, shunted her memories into a dark crevasse where they had stayed wedged. But now they were loosed. She had looked, searched relentlessly… no hospital had a record of her stay from the accident, no record existed of her having had a child either. The compound she’d resided at in Virginia was just a ghost town, no public record existed of what became of the residents… the couple she’d left Lily Minerva with had vanished into thin air in the interim. All of her searching led to more questions and even more searching. Pieces of the puzzle had floated into view, but the big picture proved elusive. Salem was only comfortable with the smallest of circles knowing any of this. The general population wouldn’t understand, might possible ridicule it. Salem still didn’t understand it herself.
In many ways, it was a hell of a thing, what she did… dealing with this turn of events. Compartmentalizing different aspects of herself: friendship, love, hobbies, work… depending on who you were you got to see a different Salem face. She didn’t like it, but it was how it had to be… until she could adequately come to grips with all this. Even with support, some days she felt like she was coming apart at the seams, a particular knot in her gut that never properly went away. She didn’t have an ulcer… not yet anyway, thank god. It was in her head and in her heart that things remained twisted and jumbled. The smiling slapstick freewheeling Salem that showed herself on social media at times was a coping mechanism.
Whatever agreement she had ironed out years ago to let the couple raise her baby felt inconsequential now; any way you sliced it she had abandoned a child. A child she had no idea on the whereabouts of… or even more morbidly, the thought of if she was even alive or dead. Once the gears of a frustrated brain are set into motion, there is no telling where the train of thought might veer. She hated herself for even thinking along those lines, but she couldn’t stop.
“No, no… Lily is alive… stop it! She’s five, going to be six in December!”
She covered her mouth, realizing she’d blurted that out loud. Salem hoped she hadn’t awakened Artemis or Lukas, the child that Artemis had struck up a friendship with and recently adopted. That was another thing, Salem couldn’t vocalize: they were parents, but this wasn’t HER child. Stupid selfish thoughts in her own mind; Lukas didn’t deserve that, he was a sweet boy who had such a hard upbringing. All he deserved was love and happiness, and he was going to get that. They were unified on that front. Artemis was her rock and she would do anything for her. Salem always endeavored to be her absolute best for the ones she loved. Even if her own heart was troubled. Her lids grew heavy, and even though she didn’t feel like sleeping… it wasn’t good to betray your body’s natural impulses. Just a few more songs and then…
The blanket slipped from her grasp onto the floor.
-
She woke up some time later, it was still night. She felt for the blanket on her lap and it wasn’t there… looked on the floor, it wasn’t there either. Salem furrowed her brow and then her eyes focused a bit more: on the desk sat a note and a tape recorder. She picked up the folded note… and it said only two words:
‘Play Me’
She picked up the recorder and did just that. It was static-filled as she listened and then finally, a voice:
“We had hoped that you would not remember. It is unfortunate that you did. You need to call off your search. To prove that we are serious about this, you will find that the pink baby blanket is no longer in your possession. It was something we had missed years ago. That error is now corrected. Should you continue your pursuits, be warned that we may take… other things.”
Salem’s lip trembled and her eyes welled with tears…. A slight pause in the tape, she thought the message was over but…
“Ah yes… the child. As you know now…again…. the child is real. We cannot tell you where she is, but rest assured her living conditions are good and she is not under any harm. Listen to this and say goodbye… she will have a good life, but you will not see her…”
Salem could not believe what she was hearing, and then….
“Mommy? Mommy, I love you. I…” *CLICK*
He muffled male voice came back on.
“There… now forget this. We have eyes everywhere. Goodnight, Salem.”
The tape ended, and she rewound it…
“Mommy? Mommy, I love you. I…” *CLICK*
“Mommy? Mommy, I love you. I…” *CLICK*
“Mommy? Mommy, I love you. I…” *CLICK*
“Mommy? Mommy, I…..”