7/15/01
Harbor Park Fountain
Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees,
a flower bed, a few benches, and a plywood wall barricade. The area where the
fountain was, and presumably the new fountain will be, is currently enclosed
by high plywood walls. There is a door in one of the walls, firmly locked
with a stout-looking padlock. The walls enclose much of the flagstone area,
now, only leaving a little around the edges of the old courtyard. Scraggly
hedges line one side of the courtyard, just behind some mostly graffiti-free
benches and a chain link fence. Cars on the nearby street have an excellent
view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the
waterfront. The park is almost constantly devoid of people as its
reputation for being one of the most violent and dangerous places in the
city spreads.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of
the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of
St. Claire. A meadow surrounds the small glade.
Malachi perches on the back of a bench, intently whittling away at the
cheap wood with a switchblade, carving graffiti with an air of dead
seriousness.
The park is pretty much devoid, except for the young woman who is standing
against the tall plywood that surrounds the fountain itself. Dark hair
covers dark eyes, and a slim joint of marijuana is held in the fingers of
her right hand. Helen lifts a brow as she scans the small area and finds
Malachi, and says amiably enough, "Whatcha writin', kid?"
Malachi glances up sharply. The letters C U are already enscribed in the
wood, with what looks like half an N following next to it. He peers
suspiciously at Helen. "Nuthin'."
Thin brows lift, and she definitely can make out what that's gonna be.
"Oh. Thought you were writing somethin' like 'Suck my dick and kiss my
ass'." Helen eyes Malachi. "Y' like making fun of girls? Still in that
'ew girls have cooties stage'?" She takes a drag from the joint and lets
it fall to the ground, smashing it with a sandaled foot.
Malachi's jaw clenches slightly; he seems about to say something, but
instead shrugs and starts the last line of the N. His only reply is,
finally, a flat, "No."
Helen cracks her knuckles, but not in a sort of 'I'll beat the shit
out of you' way. More like 'if you finish that word I'll beat the shit
out of you' way, but she says naught. Instead, she says, "Oh. Well.
Writing that, one would think you are. Either that or you l--" She cuts
herself off, and clears her throat. No place here to frenzy on some
stupid-ass kid.
Malachi finishes the N, then looks back up at Helen. A flicker of
calculation passes across his face, looking out of place amoung the
pinched, pre-teen features. Even after it passes, his gaze is
oddly level, and though tense, the kid doesn't seem as frightened
as he should be. Not nearly. His mouth twitches, and then his
knife-hand comes down, adding another line to the N and starting
it on the path of a lopsided M.
Helen eyes Malachi's handiwork and intones, clearly amused,
"Oh. So you want to get laid?"
Malachi's tension rachets itself up another notch, and the edge
of it can be heard in his voice, no matter how much he's
obviously attempting to keep it even and calm, no matter how he
tries to stick to a 'cool as ice' demeanor. "Y'didn't want me
to write /cunt/, so I ain't gonna write /cunt/." He digs at the
added line, making it match the rest of the letter.
Helen doesn't seem to mind. She's got plenty of anger flowing
through her veins to keep Gaia happy. Brushing some hair behind
an ear, she folds her arms, and smirks at Malachi. "Who said I
didn't want you to? I didn't say anythin' like that. Did I?"
Malachi grimaces. "M'not stupid." He glances down at his
switchblade hand; the fingers are clenched tightly around the
handle. With apparant effort, the kid uses the bench to push
the blade back in and stands up, about to leave.
(Malachi leaves without further molestation from Helen that
evening. I.E., her player disconnected and didn't return.)