Halloween Noir - 2. Encounters

Alex woke up in the late afternoon, sunlight streaming through the curtains of his room at Maison Noir. The warm glow bathed the room in a golden hue and reached deep into his soul. For the first time in as long as he could remember, nothing hurt. He lay there for a moment, savoring the unfamiliar sense of well-being. The constant fatigue had lifted, replaced by a strange sense of calm and strength. He closed his eyes and smiled, remembering the ecstasy of last night’s encounter, the magical presence that had touched him in ways he had never imagined possible.

He stretched, relishing to move without pain. Is this real? Is this how normal people feel? He was almost afraid to believe it. His eyes wandered around the room, landing on the corner where Halloween decorations stood. The vibrant colors and eerie shapes looked more vivid than ever. But something was missing—the severed hand that had been the centerpiece. Strangely, he experienced only a mild curiosity about its absence, a symptom of the bizarre detachment that had settled over him since last night’s encounter.

Moments later, Solomon appeared at his door, greeting Alex with a warm smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Ashwood. I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thank you,” Alex replied, a bright smile lighting up his face. “I’m much more energetic today.”

“Well, no wonder,” Solomon grinned, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “All that energy last night had to go somewhere. Many people sensitive to magic probably perceived a firework of magical power without knowing its origin.”

Recalling the intensity of his experience, Alex blushed.

“I don’t know what happened exactly,” the caretaker added with a hint of amusement, “but I strongly suggest you take a shower and then join me downstairs.” With that, he turned and left, leaving a rather red-faced but still happy Alex behind.

Alex mused about what had happened last night as he stepped into the shower. The hot water washed away the remnants of last night’s strangeness, invigorating him further. He closed his eyes, letting the water cascade over him, and remembered the torment of his past. Nobody had understood what was happening to him, not even the doctors. His body had been attacking itself, and it hurt so much. He’d spent countless nights curled up in agony, crying from the relentless pain. Sometimes, it was as if his suffering drew in malevolent spirits, feasting on his torment, adding to his pain. Now, as the steam enveloped him, the hot water mingled with the tears that streamed down his face and took them away. It left him with a profound sense of relief and gratitude for his newfound strength. Gone were the doubts. He spent so long being weak and broken, now he was looking forward to live.

Downstairs, he found a hearty breakfast awaiting him in the dining room. Despite the lateness of the hour, someone had laid the table with eggs, bacon, freshly baked bread, and fruit. The tantalizing aroma made his stomach growl in anticipation. Sitting down and digging in with gusto, he savored the energy coursing through him, a complete opposite to the weakness he’d experienced for so long. Food never tasted this good before, he realized, savoring each bite.

As they ate, Alex looked up at Solomon. “It’s the high season, but I haven’t seen any other guests. Am I the only one here?”

Solomon smiled, a touch of mystery in his eyes. “We are very selective about our guests, Mr. Ashwood. Maison Noir does not cater to just anyone. However, given the events of last night, I believe we might expect another guest soon enough, although we are not certain yet who they are.”

Alex pondered Solomon’s cryptic response with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. Selective? Another guest? The mysterious aura of the house and its caretaker only added to the sense of excitement that had begun to stir within him. He shrugged it off, deciding to embrace the mystery and enjoy whatever lay ahead.

Solomon drew a long breath, then sat down at the table across from Alex. “Mr. Ashwood, I prefer to speak to you on equal footing,” Solomon said, now on eye level with Alex, leveling the playing field. Alex appreciated the gesture.

Searching for the right words, Solomon said, “Mr. Ashwood, there is something you should know.” Alex raised an eyebrow, curious.

“As the caretaker of Maison Noir and a representative of the Foundation, it is my duty to ensure your comfort and well-being. We are well aware of your personal preferences, your dreams, your fears, and even your tastes in clothes and food.”

Alex blinked, taken aback. “You know... all that about me?”

“Indeed,” Solomon replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “For instance, we even know that you are sexually inexperienced, that you are gay, and who your ideal type might be. The Foundation cares deeply about those we are assisting.”

Alex experienced a mix of surprise and more than a hint of discomfort, but he could not deny a certain sense of relief as well. They know everything, and yet they help. “That’s... a lot to take in.”

Solomon’s expression softened with sincere warmth. “You are exactly who you are supposed to be, Mr. Ashwood. The Foundation sees you, and we are here to support you fully. You possess something unique, something that will be crucial in the times to come. We are not sure yet what it is you possess, but remember, you will not face what comes alone; we are certain someone will be by your side.”

Alex breathed in deeply, absorbing Solomon’s words. There was a strange comfort in knowing they understood him so completely, even if it was unnerving and the message was cryptic.

“Thank you, Solomon. That means a lot.” He paused for a moment, then added, “You know so much about me, more than my few friends do. Please call me Alex.”

Solomon’s eyes softened with appreciation. “Very well, Alex. I am honored.”

Filled with a sense of adventure after the previous night’s peculiar yet exhilarating encounter, and the newfound acceptance he had just encountered, Alex glanced up at Solomon. “Do you have any Halloween costumes I could borrow? I think I should get into the spirit of things.”

Solomon’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Indeed I do. Follow me.”

He led Alex to a room full of costumes. It was a treasure trove of creativity, each costume more elaborate and imaginative than the last. Historical figures, fantastical beasts, you name it.

After sifting through various options and some deliberation, Alex settled on a leather harness and a set of ripped, dirty-looking jeans and an equally ripped shirt. Solomon eyed him with an undefinable look in his eyes. Then he smiled. “Of course! Let’s work with what you have! This should suit you well; it’s very definitely a traditional sexy gay zombie outfit,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere. “It complements your... unique appearance.”

Alex laughed, enjoying a sense of daring he hadn’t known in years. “You mean my pasty white, ill and weak-looking body, and my rather horny attitude today?” After critically looking it over, he finally said, “Why not? It’s Halloween, after all.”

The tattered costume clung to his emaciated yet revitalized frame, more revealing than hiding the black leather harness beneath it. The outfit somehow accentuated the lean muscles that had begun to re-emerge. Just yesterday, he thought he was dying. Now look at me, he thought as he faced himself in the mirror, unable to suppress a smile. For the very first time, he wanted to experience whatever the night might bring. And he felt a bit sexy.

Standing in front of the mirror, anticipation and excitement washed over Alex. Anything could happen tonight. The air buzzed with possibilities.

“This is it,” he thought, his blue eyes twinkling. “Tonight, everything changes.”

Solomon regarded him with a satisfied expression, as if seeing a puzzle piece fall into place.

“Just a bit of paint and makeup, then you’re ready to go. I guess that shaggy mop of blond hair doesn’t need to be messed up any more. But please be careful,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of warning masked by cheer, “New Orleans can throw surprises at you when you least expect them. Last night, you lit up like a magical beacon. Some sensitive to it might still notice an afterglow. Enjoy your night, but stay vigilant.”

Drawing himself up to his full height and speaking with a Shakespearean actor’s voice, Solomon mockingly proclaimed, “Go forth now, for it is foretold by this outfit and everything magical, that you will not stay alone tonight.”

Alex nodded, a thrill running through him at the caretaker’s words. The city was calling, and he was ready to answer. Alex took a deep breath, his heart pounding with anticipation. Whatever the night had in store, he was ready to embrace it, the echoes of last night’s strange magic still thrumming within him. And so, as the sun dipped lower to the horizon, he stepped out into the approaching evening with a confident stride and a playful smile.

The caretaker of Maison Noir let his eyes follow Alex as he disappeared into the crowd. “Finally,” he said to no one in particular. It was just like in the old description. He needed to follow and observe from a safe distance.

***

As Alex stepped out of Maison Noir, the vibrant spirit of Halloween that pulsed through the French Quarter engulfed him immediately. The setting sun bathed the city in a warm orange glow, and the festivities were in full swing. After all these years of suffering, a strange sense of liberation filled Alex, as if a heavy burden fell from his shoulders.

His eyes widened as he took in the scene. Cobweb-draped buildings loomed over carved pumpkins whose eerie grins flickered with candlelight. Laughter and music filled the air, mingling with the rich scent of spices, the crisp aroma of autumn leaves, and the occasional waft of incense from nearby voodoo shops. Halloween decorations adorned every building, enhancing the festive yet spooky atmosphere of the vibrant streets. The energy of the city pulsated with life, and Alex walked with a newfound confidence, propelled forward by the city’s lively rhythm.

As he walked, the sights and sounds threatened to overwhelm Alex’s senses. He passed a group of children with faces painted like skeletons, giggling as they compared their candy hauls. A woman dressed as a witch cackled theatrically, stirring a bubbling cauldron that sent up puffs of colorful smoke. Street performers in elaborate costumes danced and twirled, their movements perfectly synchronized with the rhythm of a brass band.

Alex’s heart raced, each beat echoing the excitement and renewed purpose that surged through him. The electric charge in the air seemed to hum just beneath the surface of the revelry, pulling him deeper into the city’s embrace. He marveled at how his illness and constant fatigue had vanished, replaced by a vibrant energy that made him enjoy live like he hadn’t in years. His anxiety and panic attacks seemed like distant memories, ghosts of a former life that had no hold on him anymore.

He found himself in a small, crowded square where a band played a lively jazz tune. The music was infectious, and he couldn’t help but tap his foot to the beat. Couples danced in the square, their movements fluid and graceful, while others clapped along, their faces lit with joy. The vivid scene filled him with a sense of belonging. Touching his lips, he was surprised to find a genuine smile spreading across his face—a sensation he hadn’t known in what seemed like forever.

A fortune teller caught his eye. She had her table set up under a canopy of twinkling fairy lights. Nothing says “Trust me” like twinkling fairy lights. She beckoned him over, her eyes glinting with mysterious knowledge. “Come here, honey, let me have a look at you,” she called out. For a moment, Alex hesitated with a twinge of discomfort. He saw her eyes observing him intently, studying his whole body, making him feel exposed. The afterglow? He shook off his questions and moved on, wanting to explore further. The thrill of embracing new experiences and possibilities sent a rush of exhilaration through him.

He turned down a narrow alley, the noise of the crowd diminishing as he ventured away from the party crowd. The buildings here were older, their facades weathered but charming, with wrought-iron balconies adorned with hanging plants. Lanterns spread a soft, golden glow over the brick pathways. The faint sound of distant jazz music floated through the air, accompanied by the occasional clink of glasses and murmur of voices from nearby courtyards. Alex’s footsteps echoed in the quiet alley, a stark contrast to the bustling streets he had just left. Suddenly, there was a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as if another pair of eyes were following him. When he looked around, he saw nothing.

The alley opened into another square, less crowded but equally enchanting. A group of musicians played a slow, haunting melody, their instruments creating a symphony that resonated deep within Alex. He stood there for a moment, letting the music wash over him. A profound connection to the city and its history resonated within him. It was as if New Orleans was speaking to him, sharing its secrets and welcoming him back into its fold.

As he continued to explore, Alex couldn’t shake the sensation that he was being watched. It was an unsettling sensation, as if he was under someone’s scrutiny. He glanced over his shoulder occasionally, half-expecting to see someone following him, but the streets remained empty.

The sky darkened further, and the streetlights flickered on. Deep shadows crept over the buildings and filled the corners of his vision. A thrill of anticipation ran down his spine, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and curiosity. The magic of New Orleans surrounded him, and he couldn’t wait to embrace whatever came next. The night was alive with possibilities, and for the first time, Alex truly opened up to discovering where his journey would lead.

As he drifted through the streets of New Orleans, he soaked in the atmosphere. Suddenly, his attention zoomed in on a group of fit-looking guys, clearly centered on a charismatic, larger-than-life figure. Alex recognized him instantly: Jacques Black, whose presence commanded attention wherever he went.

Alex knew Jacques was slightly older than him, but he never realized that in real life he’d be so stunningly handsome. Chiseled features and a confident demeanor exuded both strength and charm. He had been a college football star until a freak incident with a black cat cost him his left hand, ending his career. Now Jacques wore his stump with pride, refusing to hide it with a prosthetic. His carefree attitude and self-assurance only added to his allure, making him stand out even more in the crowd.

Watching Jacques, Alex was more than intrigued. His own illness had kept him from enjoying life for so long, but seeing Jacques so confident and accepting of his disability inspired him. If Jacques could embrace life fully, then so could he.

Their eyes met. In that moment, Alex felt a spark. There was a strong pull between them, a connection he couldn’t explain. Jacques’s gaze was intense, full of curiosity and something deeper, something that made Alex’s heart skip a beat.

Without hesitation, Jacques approached Alex, his grin wide and infectious. In a swift, bold move, he reached out and took Alex’s hand, pulling him into a spontaneous dance amidst the throng of revelers. The music swirled around them, the rhythm pulsating through their bodies as they moved in perfect harmony. With every step, their connection deepened, their movements synchronized as if they had been dancing together for a lifetime.

Alex was fascinated by Jacques’s stump, which Jacques carried with a natural ease that spoke volumes about his self-acceptance. He couldn’t help but admire the strength it took to embrace such a visible difference so openly. Jacques’s carefree attitude was magnetic and drew Alex to him like he hadn’t experienced before. As they danced, Jacques’s friends circled around them, clapping and cheering, adding to the joyful chaos. The night seemed to blur around them, every sense heightened by the intoxicating mix of music, laughter, and the physical closeness of Jacques.

On a whim, Alex nodded toward the missing hand. “Doesn’t that inconvenience you sometimes?”

“Only when I need to carry two beers,” Jacques quipped with a cocky grin.

“No problem,” Alex said, a spark of boldness in his eyes. “We can share this one.” He took Jacques’s bottle from his hand, took a swig, and then grinned, daring him to react.

Then, as if guided by an unseen force, Jacques leaned in close, his lips capturing Alex’s in a passionate kiss. Between them, the taste of beer mingled as their tongues battled for dominance. Alex’s mind raced—was this real, or just another fleeting dream? The warmth of Jacques’s mouth against his grounded him, each second stretching into eternity. Jacques’s scent caressed his nostrils with an intoxicating maleness. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. Their hearts beat as one as they lost themselves in each other’s embrace. As Jacques’s soft lips met his own, Alex shuddered as a bolt of pleasure ran through him. The kiss whispered of longing and desire, a promise of all the adventures that lay ahead.

For a fleeting moment, time stood still. The world around them faded into a blur as Jacques’s lips pressed against his own. It was a kiss that spoke of deep yearning and unspoken promises, a connection both new and ancient.

When their lips finally parted, Alex felt breathless, exhilarated, and he was lost in Jacques’s eyes, which sparkled with a mix of mischief and earnestness. A thrill of excitement coursed through Alex as Jacques’s friends cheered and applauded, shouting playful, rude remarks that echoed through the night.

But before Alex could react, Jacques’s friends pulled him away with playful insistence, their laughter mingling with the music. One of them teased Jacques, “Hey, you can’t switch teams on us mid-season!” as they vanished into the swirling crowd. Jacques glanced apologetically back at Alex, his eyes promising that this was not the end.

Left standing alone amidst the revelry, Alex was disappointed and also exhilarated. He watched as Jacques disappeared into the night, his heart heavy with longing. But even as the crowd swallowed him whole, Alex hoped their encounter was far from over. His lips still tingled from the kiss. Maybe this was just the beginning.

The vibrant energy of the city seemed to echo his thoughts, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. With a newfound spring in his step and a heart open to the unknown, Alex sensed his own readiness, an eagerness to embrace whatever adventures lay ahead. As he stood there, the image of Jacques’s missing hand lingered in his mind. It was an unexpected connection that made him feel even closer to the man who had just swept him off his feet. Could it be that Jacques was the unknown person Solomon was expecting to join them?

***

As Alex wandered through the bustling streets of New Orleans, the city’s sights and sounds overwhelmed his senses. Despite the festive atmosphere, and still high on endorphins from meeting Jacques, a sense of unease gnawed at Alex’s gut. All the costumes, once whimsical, now didn’t look fun anymore. Ghouls and specters surrounded him. The towering facades of the French Quarter, usually pretty in their historical grandeur, now seemed to press closer, their darkened windows watching, turning the city into a claustrophobic maze.

The normally straightforward streets seemed to twist in the shadows of the dim streetlights. Each intersection presented a blind choice, disorienting him as he navigated through what now seemed like a labyrinth.

Unseen movements flickered at the edge of his vision, and faint whispers brushed against his ears, though no one was visibly near. The familiar paths appeared to twist unpredictably, mirroring the chaos of the masked crowds and the spectral apparitions that seemed to dance just out of sight. The well-known neighborhood turned into an alien landscape.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over him, his vision blurring at the edges. Panic clawed at his chest, threatening to consume him whole. Desperately, he clung to the nearest wall for support, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The world around him seemed to tilt, the alleyway narrowing as if to trap him.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” a voice called out from the darkness.

Alex blinked, struggling to focus on the figure before him. A group of strangers emerged from the shadows, their intentions unmistakably sinister. Their faces swam before his eyes, indistinct and hazy. His mind appeared strangely detached, as if he were watching the scene unfold from a great distance. A chill ran down his spine as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Looks like we got ourselves a lost little lamb, boys,” one of the strangers said, grinning mockingly at Alex.

“Oh yeah,” another chimed in. “And what’s with the getup, huh? Thought you zombies only ate brains, not dick,” he added, looking suggestively at the sneering group.

“… And how can a scrawny guy like that have such a fine piece of ass? Wow, that’s begging for attention,” another one jeered.

The strangers’ words barely registered in Alex’s mind, their voices distant and muffled. He felt himself slipping further into the void, his body growing heavier with each passing second.

“Let’s have some fun with this one,” another stranger growled, his eyes glinting with malice, his voice echoing in Alex’s ears. A rough grip tightened on Alex’s arm, pulling him further into the darkness, and with a sense of inevitability, Alex’s world dimmed to blackness. His body went limp as he lost consciousness.

“Wanna fuck a zombie in a graveyard? C’mon guys, let’s head over there.”

The strangers wasted no time. They picked up Alex’s unconscious form and carried him deeper into the night, toward the city of the dead.