Black Roses

Chapter Three - Phillip

The moon hangs high in the sky, showering light down over the tombstones, neatly lined in a row at the towns cemetery. Once a week, you'll find a tall, lonely figure placing a single yellow flower on two rows of graves. Stopping each time, placing his large, bony hand on the top of each stone and then moving onto the neighbouring resting place. The man will kneel in front of each one and say a prayer, the one his mother taught him to say for the dead. His mother, who also rests in this cemetery, never expected for her son to be responsible for putting these people in the ground.

Once there is a yellow flower on each of the graves, in the two lines, Phillip travels over to a tree, on the edge of the cemetery. Its branches have grown out far enough to create a small shelter, green leaves blocking out the sun and moon. Not even the stars can be seen through the twigs. The huge, strong trunk has grown for many years, the oldest tree in the town. Here since the beginning. Beneath this tree sits two pairs of tombstones. Small and cracked. While broken, they are still well kept, well looked after. They have been mended and loved, like the people they represent.

To the right of him lays his parents, Alcide and Josephine Blackwood. Buried the way they lived. Together. In front of him is another pair. Phillip places a bundle of flowers here and sits before it. Reading over the words engraved in the stone, Phillip fights back a tear, as he does every visit. It reads:

BEATRICE AND NATHANIEL BLACKWOOD. BELOVED WIFE. BELOVED SON. FOREVER MISSED.

Rubbing his eyes, Phillip ignores the familiar hollow feeling and starts the conversation.

"Hello darling. Hey buddy. I know I missed last week's visit but there was a family emergency. Iris had an issue with a male hound. And as you know, Iris doesn't like unwelcome men talking to her. But I'm here now. I've had a busy week. Full of planning for the annual towns dance. Celebrating the towns discovery. Then next week, I have the monthly gathering. It still needs a code name, so Katherine doesn't suspect its true purpose. But I'm working on it. Oh, you'll be glad to know that I'm three months clean, today. I haven't killed anyone, apart from the two rows. Katherine agreed to the cleaning idea. I mean, it sucks having to clean up the mess, but it's better than making it. Last night was the worst I've seen. Will really mutilated the park."

During the conversation, a muscled man spots Phillip sitting, crossed legged under the tree and wanders over to tap him on the shoulder, "I'm sorry to interrupt but Andy requires your services."

"Very well, I shall be there shortly."

The man walks away and Phillip turns back to the cold stones in the ground, the constant reminder that his family is no longer with him. He first looks at his wife's side, "Goodbye, love. I promise to be back sooner this time."

Then looks to his son, "Bye buddy, look after your mother. I have to deal with uncle Nik. We all know how he gets."

Phillip holds both his hands to his lips and blows Beatrice and Nathaniel a kiss before getting up and leaving to help Andy.

Phillip collects his tools and supplies and finds Andy waiting for him outside the tavern's entrance. The external appearance appears untouched, unmoved. Andy looks fine, his usual dirty rag over his shoulder, wearing his usual black apron. Seeing things as ordinary as they are makes Phillip assume this will be an easy fix.

"Thanks for coming so soon. Sorry for the short notice. I told one of the guys you'd be at the cemetery. Hope that's cool."

"Don't apologize. Of course it's fine. No one can control Nik."

"Right, now brace yourself."

Andy opens the stainless-glass windowed door and lets Phillip enter first. Immediately, his first step is into a puddle of blood. Red liquid sticking to the bottom of his shoes and spreading around him. Looking throughout the room, the floor is covered in body parts, most unattached from their original bodies. Nothing looks untouched from blood. Nik must have a good reason for this, Phillip tries to justify his brothers brutal actions, still believing there is good within them all. While a little naive, somewhere inside Phillip's brain is telling him to give up hope for his serial killer family. Ignoring it, he holds firmly, the belief that even the worst of us can change.

Andy stands beside him and explains the situation, "Rowan and his buddies stormed in. Wanted to take Nik to the dragon. He was not going to go in without a fight. Managed to get everyone but Rowan."

Phillip sighs deeply and mentally goes through the procedure. Dropping the wooden box containing his cleaning supplies, his tool kits, and his spare change of clothes, Phillip squeezes his hands into a pair of bright yellow latex gloves, snapping them shut at his wrists. Grabbing a sponge and a retractable mop, pulling it to its full size, he begins soaking up the blood.

On his hands and knees, Phillip tries to scrub the blood from the floor. But it seemed to be endless – the red liquid had him surrounded. In the middle of cleaning, a small, innocent voice echoes in his head, What are you doing?

Looking up once, Phillip sees no one. His eyes gaze the room, but nothing other than blood stains. He tries to continue working but the voice repeats itself. This time when he looks up, he sees a small boy. At first, the child startles Phillip but once the vision settles, he replies out loud, "I'm cleaning uncle Nik's mess up."

The child is now on his hands and knees, copying Phillip's actions. The boy even pretends to scrub the floor clean, pushing his hands against the floorboards, It's a big mess.

"Yes it is. That's why we're cleaning it."

Can I help?

"Of course you can, Nathaniel."

The small child wears plain brown clothes – brown tunic and brown trousers to match. Sometimes when the boy appeared to Phillip, he comes in styles of different eras, clothing changing depending on the time Phillip imagined him in. His favourite was the French look, a black beret propped firmly on his small head of short brown hair. The same chocolate brown as his mother’s, and short like Nik's. Phillip had always imagined Nathaniel would grow it out, just like his father, and they would have matching ponytails. Little dreams and fantasy fuel Phillip on the bad days, the days he can't focus on anything else but the eternal grief of being without them.

Crawling around the tavern, he finds and gathers all the body pieces, putting them in a pile out the back of the pub. Once emptied of all flesh, all that's remaining is the blood and broken furniture. Phillip connects a long black hose from the closest tap – on the other side of the bar – and washes through the blood unable to be scrubbed clean. He watches as the water pushes and separates the red, creating patches of clean space on the floor and furniture. Finishing it off with a nice wood polish, the floor is clean and Phillip can move on. He wipes down the bar and furniture and starts putting the room back together again. Most of the mess is fixed, leaving now the repairs for the furniture. Adding the bloody cloths and rags to the pile of rotting human flesh, Phillip puts the hose away and prepares his tools.

Picking up the first broken chair, with his chipped, wooden box of tools by his side, Phillip kneels and inspects the damage. This one is fixable, he thinks to himself. Holding its fractured leg in his hands, running his fingers over the splintered edge, Phillip analyses the break and picks up his screwdriver.

The boy returns, sitting beside Phillip, with more questions, How are you going to fix it?

"Well, this chair just needs its legs screwed back on, see?"

Phillip points to the repairable damage as the boy nods, staring intently at his father's hands. Phillip screws new bolts into the side of the rundown chair, and it stands on all fours again, as if it wasn't thrown across the room only hours before.

What about that one? The boy asks, pointing to the splinted pieces of what once was a table.

"That one is too broken for me to fix. I need to get a new one."

Calling the contact Phillip uses to replace the parts he cannot fix, he stands in the cooling wind of night and waits for his arrival. Patiently moving from one foot to the other, he focuses on the thin, toenail appearance of the moon. Rather than look at the shining split in the sky, or the shimmering stars, Phillip chooses to pay attention to the dark side of the moon. The part of the moon that is hidden from the world. He knows it's there, hiding beneath the night sky, shut away from him. Despite knowing the facts of the moon and the science behind its purpose, he can't help but compare its tide altering existence to his own immortal one. Parts of it hidden from the world, only ever seeming whole a small, few selected days. Feeling it shine down on him, he knows how it feels to have a piece of you missing and being the only person to know the pieces are still there; only hidden.

A loud, long truck beeps its horn as it approaches the bar. The man behind the wheel is wearing an old brown baseball cap, its logo faded from years of use. His beard dirty from the hours on the road and a week’s worth of days without a shower. Despite the lack of sleep and the drooping facial features, the man is eager to please. Jumping from the driver's seat, he takes Phillip to the back and reveals the brand new furniture.

"Just what you ordered, sir."

"Nicely done, David. You always come through for me."

Smiling and nodding overly enthusiastically, David unloads the truck and places everything at the front door. Although he is a short, human man who forgets the fundamentals of hygiene, David is incredibly capable. Single-handedly moving every piece of furniture out of the truck. Every time, Phillip offers to assist – knowing he could lift everything without batting an eye – and every time, David refuses despite how worn out he is by the end of the delivery.

Once everything is out, David waves excitedly, "Until next time, Phil!"

Nodding along, wanting him to make a swift exit, Phillip waves once and continues working.

The room looks like it's back to normal, once again. The chairs and tables have either been repaired or replaced. The blood has been removed from the walls, the floor and everywhere in between. Now all that's left to do is burn the evidence.

At the back of the tavern, next to the large, blue dumpsters, is the pile of corpses, blood stained clothes and any pieces of furniture that was unable to be salvaged. Wiping his face with a damp cloth, Phillip puts all his ruined clothing in the mass and changes into fresh, unblemished ones. With a lighter at the ready, Phillip waits on Andy to put the last few things in.

While waiting, Phillip is met with another voice, a soft, feminine one, There is bloodshed everywhere your brother goes.

Looking to his right side, Phillip can't see where the voice is coming from. When he looks to his left, he sees her, "I know. I don't know how to stop him."

This is no life for any one man. There is so much more for you.

"My family needs me. I cannot abandon them, Beatrice."

Andy carries a bag of remains out to the pile and hears Phillip talking to someone. But he can only hear one voice, Phillip's. Turning the corner, Andy can't see anyone else, only a crazy looking immortal talking to himself.

"Phil, buddy. Who are you talking to?"

Phillip turns to look at Andy. The question fills his brain as he looks to either side of him and doesn't see Nathaniel or Beatrice. They are gone. The pain hits him all over again. Swallowing it all, he tells Andy, "No one. I wasn't talking to anyone."

They throw the bag on top and set the whole thing ablaze. Red and orange flames wrestle in the night's air, sparks flying all around. Now no one can tell that a m******e took place here, no one can spot the death that drowns its walls.

Once everything is turned to ash and forgotten, Andy puts his hand on Phillip's shoulder, "Can I give you a lift home, buddy?"

Phillip nods, still feeling the grief stab him repeatedly. They walk to Andy's van together and are ready to go when Phillip receives a phone call.

"Hello?…Samuel…What…Slow down…What happened?…I'll be there soon."

Phillip looks at Andy and asks, "Can we make one stop before the manor?"