Purulent Dreams, Part 1

Posted on Wed 10th Jun, 2020 @ 2:59am by Purulence Addams
Edited on on Wed 10th Jun, 2020 @ 3:59am

1,267 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Chlamydia Addams' home, Deck 1554
Timeline: MD-15, 0700 hours

After finishing their customary morning run in the park, Purulence Addams and Ignatius Collins bade each other farewell and headed off to their own pursuits. After waking up at nearly 4:00am, Purulence had been too keyed up to attempt going back to sleep. She had sat in bed, rereading the mish-mash of hastily-scribbled notes she had written in an attempt to remember what Victoria Briggs had told her before disappearing.

Her disappearance still made Purulence shudder. It wasn't right. People who were astral projecting didn't just dissolve, leaving nothing in their wake but a feeling of utter absence in the air and an icy chill. You were supposed to be able to see them receding along the cord of spirit that bound them to their own body. They didn't just vanish like smoke, right before your eyes.

Purulence wished she didn't have the mental image of a candle being blown out in her mind at that moment.

She entered Chlamydia's home, climbed the stairs to her room, and took a quick shower. She dressed in an indigo blouse and a pair of black leggings; the outfit suited her mood. Then she went downstairs to start breakfast, bringing her sketchpad with her. She had taken on breakfast duties because, of the three Addams sisters, she had the most flexible schedule. She could do art any time and schedule appointments with clients to suit her preferred lifestyle, within reason. Chlamydia absolutely had to be on duty by a certain time, and Ischemia was so busy with her current legal cases that she really needed to be able to eat and go.

Purulence started the coffee going and then began to rummage in the pantry and chiller for breakfast foods. Soon she was mixing batter and preheating the waffle iron.

Ischemia walked into the kitchen, wearing a red sheath dress with a short red jacket, long sleeved with a Mandarin collar. She shook her hair back from her face. "I should cut this mess, about chin length. What do you think? I know Daddy would have a fit, but really, I'm 37 years old. I should be able to cut that string right along with my hair."

Purulence blinked as she put the eggs, vegetable oil, flour, and baking soda away. "It's hard to imagine you with short hair, but if you would like that better, give it a shot. If you don't like it, your hair will grow back. If you do like it--well, it's your hair, not Dad's."

"I'm late," Chlamydia said, breezing into the kitchen. "No time to say hello, goodbye, I'm late." She paused at the toaster, and went on, "They used to say that the difference between a good haircut and a bad haircut was two weeks. Of course, that was before the invention of the follicle stimulator."

"Point to you, White Rabbit," Ischemia grinned. "I'll make an appointment today, on the way home from the interrogation." She took a seat at the breakfast island, put her elbows on the top, and asked, "So anything new either of you care to talk about since breakfast yesterday? Any ancestral hauntings? Visits from specters that creep in the night? Secrets from the future?"

"I have no time for hauntings, specters, or secrets," Chlamydia announced. "I have redirected them all to Six, who is of the proper age to be fascinated by such." The toaster popped as the eldest sister pulled a jar labeled with a green yicky face and the words "Mr. Ick means you'll get SICK!" from a cupboard.

"Do you find it the tiniest bit scary to think that child is more than equal to such things?" asked Schemy, reaching with her fork for a waffle from the pile just plunked down hot and steaming.

"Says the girl who chased a night mare into Purulence's bed when she was four years old," Clammy countered, dipping her knife in the jar before spreading something that looked like honeybutter on her toast. "She's an Addams."

Purulence placed a pile of Million-Dollar Bacon into the microwave and set it for 60 seconds. "I actually had a ghostly visitation last night--or this morning, rather." She sighed. "Her name is Victoria--or was?"

"Victoria? Why does that name sound familiar? Do we know this ghost from somewhere?" Ischemia asked, slicing off a nice bit of waffle with strawberry yogurt and half a strawberry on it.

"I don't know if I mentioned her to you or not," Purulence said. "Dr. Graves came by one afternoon to see if I could communicate with a ghost--though really, it was more like astral projection, but not exactly that, either. I figured, why not? So I took a nap, and there she was, standing right there in the parlor with us. We said hello. Then I was looking through her eyes, watching this scary-looking guy attack her husband with a knife, right here on the station."

The oven chimed, and Purulence took out the bacon, whose grease popped delicately, sending a fragrant aroma of hot, peppery, candied bacon into the air. Purulence set the platter on the table and sat down. She too speared a waffle off the pile and slathered it with butter and maple syrup before setting a couple of bacon strips on her plate and biting into one. Purulence gave her oldest sister a questioning glance. "Why are you looking at me like that, Clamy?"

"Did I know you were in contact with the possibly-late Victoria Briggs?" Chlamydia asked. She glanced at Ischemia and explained, "She seemed to be a haunt, but instead of the silence one expects from such, she was surprisingly vocal -- to Mr. Briggs, at any rate."

Purulence's eyes widened at Chlamydia. "You know her name?" A relieved look washed over her. "Have you seen her? Is she okay?"

"You don't think that could have been ... psychological damage on his part? Some kind of imaginary friend kind of thing?" Ischemia asked Chlamydia, picking up a piece of bacon and biting into it. "You didn't talk with her, did you?"

The eldest sister shook her head. "I was aware of her, but she didn't speak to me. Paul Graves... and by the bye, Pure darling, while Collins is a delightful young fellow, I still think 'Graves' is a better name to add to the family tree... was likewise aware of her, but I don't believe he spoke directly with her, either. Which makes our darling baby sister the one."

"Of course, I spoke with her." Purulence took another bite of bacon and followed it with a syrupy waffle chaser. She swallowed and went on. "She was in my dream. We sat on my bed sipping tea and discussing our romantic interests--her husband and Ignatius. Weird, huh?" Purulence's expression grew serious. "Except she disappeared, and it felt wrong, like a hole had been left where she was. And she didn't recede along the cord of her spirit; she just vanished, like she was sucked away somewhere or dissolved like candle smoke instantly. The air was cold. I woke up because it was that frightening, and the air was still cold. She told me to remember what she said, and I went into a near-frenzy writing it all down."

"And might you feel inclined to share these notes?" Chlamydia asked. She really was running late, but she had a feeling this might be important -- and she had been a very small child, indeed, when she'd learned never to ignore that feeling.

 

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