Regan Rants - L'Wren Scott RIP

Regan Worth

You know what I hate? I hate when I wake up in the afternoon and find out someone I really admire has gone to another realm and can't come back. Case in point - L'Wren Scott. 

Now I don't stick with specific designers and I never have. But some of her fashions were brilliant. take this dress, for example. I would look stupendous in this dress. Not that I ever wore it....or had anywhere to wear it to, or the figure to wear it, but it is fab. Look at how the neckline plunges and accentuates the hips.  It's a dress a girl can really show off. Sure, so Toledo's curves would fit this dress better than mine -- but it would look okay on me too.

This dress, on the other hand, is so Mary O'Malley. I mean, it is seriously spinster-librarian, with the bow in front and the cute little white collar. You couldn't even wear lipstick with that dress *whispers* and Mary doesn't wear lipstick...not a dash. 

So yes, this dress is perfect for my friend Mary. I wouldn't wear it in a million years, but Mary would feel right at home in it. The black would offset her red hair too...although she rarely wears black. She seems to prefer pale colors. Wrong...just totally wrong for her complexion.

Now this dress, on the other hand, is totally me. It fits my slender shape...so curves are not my strongest point. And I have always loved beads and a bit of jagged -- fringe -- whatever. I don't like the straight-laced stuff. Give me a little zip...a little zag.. a little edge. This is a dress I could totally see myself wearing when I'm having a good time and showing just enough leg to be mysterious.

You were a talented lady, L'Wren Scott. You were young and beautiful and you understood the shape of a woman -- all of us. You had a spark for designing something for every personality. The world will miss your talent. Rest in Peace, brilliant lady. 

The Haunted Train Ride Continues #coffinhop

You take the window seat. Regan sits next to you and Hanover takes the seat across the aisle. As the train pulls out of the station, you look out the window to see the sky darkening. Is it that late already, or is there a storm brewing, you wonder as you watch the trees whir past.

"How long is the train ride?" you ask.

"Long enough for a drink or two," Regan answers, looking down the aisle.

"There's no service on this train, Regan," Hanover says. "They cut that years ago. Don't you remember?"

"Don't be silly, Hanover." Regan giggles. "There's the waiter now."

Hanover rolls his eyes.You look down the aisle and see no one.

"I'll have a bottle of champagne," Regan chimes. "Better make it two. And three glasses. We have company.

"I hope you're not too thirsty," Hanover leans across the aisle. "If you are, you can have some of my medicine. And if you don't like that, I'll go get you something in the dining car."

"I'm fine," you say. "I had a drink at the Black Cat."

"Hanover, are you crazy? I just ordered enough champagne for all of us."

"You thought you did, but the waiter wasn't real, so it doesn't count."

"Sure it does," Regan gives Hanover a smug smile. "I just hope the champagne's decent this time. Last time it tasted like crap."

"Last time was over forty years ago. There was a real waiter. He brought real champagne."

"Whatever, Hanover." Regan turns her attention to an empty seat near the front of the passenger car. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"I have to find out where that lady got that marvelous hat."

"What hat? The only lady I see isn't wearing a hat."

"The red hat, silly. Don't you know anything about fashion? That hat is to die for." Regan stood. "Can you watch Dolce for me?"

You shrug and look at the handbag on the floor beneath Regan's seat. "What do I need to do?"

"Just keep her quiet if she yaps. Open the bag a little and scratch her behind the ears. She likes that. Technically, she's not allowed in the passenger car. But there is no way I'm sending her as baggage. I hate when they make up stupid rules." Regan hurries off to the front of the train.

You watch her lean over. Her hands gesture as she carries on an animated conversation with an invisible person.

"Don't mind her," Hanover says. "She can still see the ghosts."

"Ghosts?" you ask.

"The ghosts of the people who died in this passenger car  the last time we took this train."

"Oh," you say. "What happened?"

"A tornado. A real doozy. It blew a tree down on the tracks. The train hit it -- smack. Only a few of us survived. Regan might not have...except for her dog. Dolce two that must have been."

"How did the dog save her?"

"Regan was wearing some flowy, fringy scarf. When the train wrecked, she flew down the aisle. The scarf caught around her neck...nearly stangled her. That dog gnawed at it until she was freed."

"Dolce was my hero!" Regan slid into her seat. "All my Dolces are heroes. Hanover was out cold. He didn't come to for three days."

*Pop*

"Just in time!" Regan exclaims. She passes you a glass full of golden bubbles.

You take a sip. It's a little dry for your taste, but not bad.

"Would you like me to open the second bottle?" a man's voice asks.

You look up and see a face shadowed by a glowing drink tray.

"Not yet," Regan says. "It'll keep better if we wait."

"Very well, ma'am." The man said and then he's gone.

You hear laughter tinkling toward the front of the passenger car. You look up and see the car is filled with people, most dressed in fancy attire. Everyone is talking, laughing drinking, including a lady wearing a black dress and a red hat that's to die for.

Death Seeker - Part 6 #coffinhop

Regan Worth

And now we lay here side by side, our legs entwined, our souls intermingled. He is sleeping and I wonder if he seeks Death in his dreams. I hope not because after what we had together, I'm sure he'll be disappointed. The sky is dark now. A tiny silver crescent hangs on the horizon. A big bug buzzes at my ear. I swat it away, but then it's back again.

"Go away," I whisper.

"Go back," it buzzes in my ear. "Hanover is frantic and Toledo's worried."

I hold up my hand and snatch its wings. I bring it forward and see its orange and yellow patterns. A moth fairy. I let it go and rub my fingers together to get rid of the dust. "Go away. I'm fine."

"Toledo said to tell you there are things out here even more wicked than you. She said you should come back now before they come find you."

"I'm not wicked. I ....how would they come find me? I have the jeep."

"How do you think?" The moth melted into a floating mouth. It opened wide. I peer through jagged teeth into a deep velvety cavern.

"Oh no. There is no way I'm traveling through your realm."

"Then drive the jeep. She says you have until dawn." Orange and yellow wings sprout from the corners of the mouth. It twists back into a fuzzy-headed moth and flies away.

I stare at the sleeping man – a boy really, but who's counting? I don't want to leave without waking him...without knowing his name or where to find him. I kiss his forehead. He doesn't stir. Damn. I would fall for a deep sleeper.

I find a scrap of paper...a receipt from some dress I bought or something. I scribble my name and phone number on it, along with a note that I had fun. What else can I do?

I leave him lying there, his head cradled by dirt. I long to hold it until morning, but I have other longer bonds. I get in the car and turn the key. The engine roars alive. I drive away.

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Death Seeker - Part 5 #coffinhop

Regan Worth

I see shadows I don't understand in his yellow eyes. "Death? Why would you want to find death?"

"Because of what I am. Unwhole. Misshapen."

I reach forward and touch his stubbly cheek. "You are not misshapen. You are .... handsome ... no, that's not the word ... compelling."

"I am a mutt." The man moves my hand away. "Undeserving of even death."

I try to catch the giggle between my teeth, but it escapes. "I'm a mutt too. My daddy was Irish and my mother Chinese."

He grasps my hand. "That's how you know death. It took your mother."

Stupid tears fill my eyes. One starts to trickle down my cheek. I thought I was done with this. It's been a hundred years since I saw her lying there with a bullet through her heart.

He wipes a tear away...a gentle finger this time, instead of a claw. "I lost mine too. A hunter shot her."

He gathers me close to him and sits me down. We lean together against the rough wall. We smoke the pipe and he tells me stories of extinction. A planned extermination. I remember Hitler from the times I worried about age and wonder if he might be as old as me.

"When you say True Bloods, what do you mean?" I ask.

He strokes my face. "Never mind. It's just old stories."

"Then let's make new ones."

He pulls away. "No new ones. Nothing to pass on my sadness."

I giggle. "Stories, not children. I am far too old to have a child."

He strokes my face. "How old are you, Death?"

I grin. "Much older than I look."

"Good." He takes my face in his hands and kisses me hard. "Then you're experienced."

...to be continued tomorrow.

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Death Seeker - Part 4 #coffinhop

The pale hairs on my arms are standing straight up. I should be afraid, but instead I want to draw him closer, feel his snarling teeth against mine, throw my head back and howl. All these things I want to do, and more.

He leans his face toward my head and sniffs. "You smell like death." His breath is hot next to my ear.

"We've been camping. I haven't had a bath in like a week."

He backs away. I feel relief and regret. Damn it. I repulse him.

His eyes dart back and forth. His own hair stands on end. "Why do you smell like death?"

"I don't know what you mean. I told you I haven't showered. Look, does it matter? I mean, I barely know you. I should be going. Thanks for the smoke." I start to walk to the car.

"Stay." A command more than a request.

" Why should I? No one talks to me like that." And yet I want to.

"Because I need to understand your scent so I can find it."

"Find what?"

"Death."

...to be continued later today

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Death Seeker - Part 3 #coffinhop

Regan Worth

"Seriously? You're a frog hunter?" Just my stupid luck to run into someone as obsessed as Hanover.

The snarl bursts into a roar, deep and constricted by a throat unaccustomed to laughter. "Why would I hunt a dull thing like frogs?"

"Because they're extinct...well, almost. But then the scientists found some and Hanover thought they might be...um....something other than frogs."

"Two puffs and you're already high? Have you even smoked before?"

"Of course I have. And I'm not high." So I'm lying a little. At least I'm not seeing spirits yet.

Except for me, Princess. Be wary.

I cover my ears. "blablablablablabla."

Cold fingers pry my hands away. This is not an ordinary man. He's.....

I turn my head toward Daddy's breath and stare him down, hoping my anger shows in my eyes. "I told you to go." He disappears, but I figure he's not far off.

"Who are you talking to?"

I turn back to the man and notice he is standing. "Give me another hit."

"Are you sure you're up to it?" He uncloaks his eyes to meet mine. They are golden and ferocious. Not bloodshot like I had expected.

"I'm up for anything." 

He touches my throat with his index finger. His fingernail is longer than mine, filed in the dragon-lady style my mother wore. "Anything?"

to be continued...

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Death Seeker - Part 1 #coffinhop

Regan Worth

Stupid frogs. Stupid hot, wet India. Not that New Orleans is cool or dry, but at least there's something to do there, especially on Halloween. What I wouldn't give for a glass of...well...anything. I'd even settle for one of those skunky beers they serve at that pub in that last town we passed.

Sure Hanover'll be pissed that I took the jeep, but what else could I do? I can't exactly walk to town, can I? Besides, he's almost out of smokes too and probably won't even notice until his hand comes out of his pocket empty. Silly Hanover and then he'd be bumming one off me and griping about the menthol.

*sniff sniff* Can that be what I think it is? No way, no how, not here in the desolate frogland. Probably some nasty native plant that impersonates the glorious scent of dragon smoke. No, wait. I see smoke. A small and delicate tendril over near that hovel. I'll just stop the car and go investigate.

Poppy smoke, my nose is sure. I mean, it's been a long time, but there are some things you don't forget. The taste...the sweet burn at the back of my throat....the shimmer in the air....so yummy. I'll just follow the scent. Heh heh...Hanover says I can't track. If something's worth tracking, I can track it.

Stupid rocks. Damn heels. Sure, Mary would say "I told you so." She always says, "I told you so." But I look short without heels...and short legs are NOT attractive. Besides, you never know when some suave guy with an opium pipe will pop up in the netherlands.

Ummm.....so not attractive, even derelict. I'm not even sure that shape is a guy. It could be an old woman huddled there under furs in the dead moist heat. I should walk away. 

Yes you should, princess.

 

"Quiet, Daddy. I'm old enough to make my own choice. Been old enough for longer than you walked this realm. Besides, it's not like anything has killed me."

Yet.

"Whatever, Daddy."

I turn away from Daddy's ghost and approach the shape crouched against the wall. It's back is to me. "Um, excuse me Ma'am ...or Sir. Would you mind sharing a bit of the poppy?" It doesn't turn around. I can't believe it's ignoring me. I mean...acting like I was invisible. Maybe it can't hear. I don't want to touch its grimy....ewww what color is that anyway?... But the dragon calls....mmmmmmm the dragon smells so good. I touch its shoulder softly. "A little poppy? I can pay for it, of course. I'm no freeloader."

"What'll you pay with, Ridinghood?" a deep voice roared. "What could you possibly have that I would want?"

...to be continued tomorrow

  

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If you haven't visited K.F. Kirwin's blog, you should. She writes ghost stories..I think she and Regan can both speak to ghosts.

Gone

Regan Worth

Gone, baby gone. Love is gone...
Actually it's us that's gone. To India. To track down frogs. Whatever. All I know is it's hot here. My hair is a disaster and the air stinks like vomit. But Hanover's on a quest and so here we are, tracking down frogs to see if they're minions of Khrou-ach. Geeesh!  It's hard to even find a decent cocktail.

If I make it sound dismal, it's because it IS dismal. And guess what....a week here and we haven't even come across a single ribbiting being. Not one. So I said, "Come on, Hanover. Let's give up this mess and go to Afganistan, partake of a little poppyseed."

Can you believe he said NO!? He's becoming an old fuddy-duddy. Back in the day....well, no, even then he didn't smoke the poppy. But I did...oh yes, I did. And I inhaled...deeply.