William Doonan

I write books and stories.

The Mummies of Blogspace9: Chapter Three

with 6 comments

June 11, 2011

Magdalenade Paz,Peru

Samples      http://www.greatbigLeon.blogspace9.ex

 Sorry to hear that you’re cursed, Bruce.  That’s a tough break.  But I want you to know that if anything happens to you, I’ll take good care of Laney.  Nights can be lonely when a loved one passes, but I’ll help her through them. 

But more to the point, your girlfriend has ordered me to do this blog thing, and I do everything she says, so here goes:  My name is Leon Samples.  I’m a grad student working on my Ph.D. in historical archaeology.  I’m writing from this horrific little land reform town on the Peruvian coast, where Cyrus has brought me to toil like a slave.  Cyrus is my dissertation advisor and I have to do everything he says.  Otherwise he’ll never sign off on my dissertation.  He told me that himself.  But before he can sign off on my dissertation, I have to write it.  And before I can do that, I have to dig up some things to write about.  Luckily, Lane Cavalcante moves me from one excavation unit to another, driving me like the slave I am.

It’s now close to midnight here, and I’m the only one still up.  We archaeologists may play hard, drink copiously, and party mightily, but we go to bed early.  I’d go to bed too, but I haven’t been sleeping too well.  And I’m a little pissed off, I won’t lie, because I had to take the car into town this afternoon to get supplies.  So instead of sitting around drinking beer and staring at Kim Castillo, which is my favorite thing to do, I had to buy thirty gallons of diesel fuel for the generator, and four chickens for dinner.  I’m a man of many talents, more than one woman has confided, but I’ll be damned if I’m a good judge of chickens.  Dinner was tough, and I was blamed.

And if that isn’t bad enough, my eyes are killing me.  We’ve been down here for four frigging months already, and not a day goes by without another sandstorm.  The wind blows so hard that the sand gets inside your eyes.  Seriously, my eyeballs feel like those little snow globes that you shake up.  If I stand up too fast, most of the time, it looks like Kim Castillo is hiding behind a wall of snow.

And if that isn’t bad enough, there’s somebody walking around outside the gate, and it’s starting to creep me out.  We’re living in this crazy mansion down here in the middle of nowhere.  They built it as an archaeological research facility in the eighties, but then Peru had some issues with civil wars and such, so it was mostly abandoned until Cyrus trained his learned eye on it.  Now we rent it.  It has three bedrooms and a giant living room and a huge kitchen that is the province of our wonderful cook Flora, and her caretaker husband Erdulfo.  They presumably have some living quarters back behind the kitchen.  I’m not sure; I’ve never been back there.  If not, then they live in the kitchen.  But they take care of us.

And part of taking care of us apparently involves forbidding us to leave the compound at night.  The whole place is walled, and when that gate closes at dusk, Erdulfo locks it tight with his giant key, and he won’t open it for anyone.  I asked Cyrus about this when we first got here, and he says it has to do with local superstitions.  Night visitors are not the kind of folks you want to entertain.  Then I asked Erdulfo, and he told me that the men who cut cane all day long get rowdy at night, and they drink. Peru is filled with retired and semi-retired guerillas, and some are not averse to the occasional temp job. 

But I’m not buying it.  I’ve been known to drink and get rowdy myself, but I don’t walk quietly outside people’s gates dragging my feet.  I’m going to try a little experiment.

voice activation mode: enabled

indiv 1:        OK, so I turned on the recorder.  This is still me, Leon, or indiv 1 as my loved ones would call me if I had loved ones, which I don’t.  I am carrying the computer outside to see if you can hear what I’m talking about. 

<background noise excessive>

indiv 1:        No, that was just the door opening.  I’m now standing on the driveway and I’m walking towards the gate.  The moon is full so I can see clearly but there’s no window or peephole on the gate, so I won’t be able to see out.  And like I said, it’s locked with a key, but let’s see if we can her something.

indiv 1:        I can hear you out there.  Can you hear me?  Oiga, no me oyes?  Quien es usted?  I’m trying to get some response.  I swear there are two guys standing right on the other side of the gate but they won’t say anything.  There’s a little crack just above the hinge that I can kind of see through but I don’t see anyone. 

<background noise excessive>

indiv 1:        Sorry.  Holy shit.  I just dropped the computer.  Sorry.  Fucking guy just looked back at me.  I’m looking out through the crack and a second later, this guy’s eye is right there looking back at me.  I’m like completely shaking right now.  OK, I’m going to take another peek.

indiv 2:        No los atormenta.

<background noise excessive>

indiv 1:        OK, that was just me jumping out of my skin.  You want me to have a heart attack, Erdulfo?  Don’t sneak up on me.  I was just trying to see who was out here.  There’s a guy standing right there.  What do you mean, atormenta?  I wasn’t tormenting anyone.  I was just trying to see who it is.

indiv 1:        For those of you out there in internet land, Erdulfo, our caretaker, just snuck up and scared the crap out of me.  Seriously, he’s going to have some cleaning up to do out here in the morning.  You’re going to need the big mop, my caretaking friend.  What the hell?  Who is out there?  There are at least two of them.  And don’t tell me they’re drunk cane cutters.  They’re not.

indiv 1:        OK, he’s pulling me back into the house, seriously.  Come on, Erdulfs, give me a break.  Who are they?  Hello?  OK, now he’s not saying anything.

indiv 2:        No los atormenta.

voice activation mode: disabled

OK, I’m back in the house now.  Erdulfo just locked the door, so I guess I’m in for the night.  I’m a little concerned right now, I have to say.  Tomorrow morning, I’m going to share some choice words with Cyrus.  Then I’m going to sit back and stare at Kim Castillo until my heart rate returns to the other kind of elevated.

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Written by williamdoonan

November 13, 2011 at 8:38 pm

6 Responses

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  1. Wow, William! Quite a departure from your Henry Grave series. I see that you’re a man of many talents.

    Patricia Gligor

    November 13, 2011 at 11:20 pm

    • Thanks, Patricia.
      I figured I wanted to stretch a little and see what could come of it. Thanks for reading!

      williamdoonan

      November 14, 2011 at 4:14 am

  2. This is gettin’ good!

    William T. Rozell

    November 15, 2011 at 3:17 pm

  3. Don’t forget, William. You encouraged my opinion! Please remember that my comments are in the spirit of helping you tell a better story.

    Typo: “….but let’s see if we can her something.” (hear) Further down: “Come on, Erdulfs, give me a break.” Do you mean “Erdulfo?” or is that a nick name? I’d write “Come on, man, give me…” Sounds more realistic. On this line: “Then I’m going to sit back and stare at Kim Castillo until my heart rate returns to the other kind of elevated.” I’d end it at “…and stare at Kim Castillo.”

    Leon’s voice sounds just like Hanson. I’d work on that.

    Carole Avila

    September 14, 2012 at 10:46 am

    • You bet. I appreciate every comment. I wanted Bruce to sound nerdy. But yes, I probably do need to work on distinguishing the voices.

      williamdoonan

      September 14, 2012 at 2:09 pm


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