ain’t a confession, no Sir-this is just to set the record straight. If not for the Law then for my immortal
have a thing for the Flame; it has been the one true constant in my life. Without fail, the Flame has solved any
problems I have had. It stopped that man
they called my Father from hurting Mother.
The flame has been my protector, my love, my savior.
Oar’s House was my last job-my last chance.
I had worked at many bordellos over the years up ‘n down the Eastern
Seaboard and every one of them required the Flame. You see, I ain’t got a problem with ladies of
the evening or their work. My Mama was a
fine lady with several well-heeled gentleman callers all of which paid a sum
worthy of her affections. It’s just that
these other brothels went from’ proper’ houses to places where anyone could
take a turn. It just weren’t right - A’ proper’ Madame has
to have standards and stick by them.
This isn’t to say I have a problem with non-whites-one of my best
friends Charlie Keys was black and one of the best piano players in the
South. Law done him in for miscegenation
back in ‘99
Oar’s House was a fine establishment.
That lady had standards and integrity.
Once a girl had earned herself to the top, Madame Oar would set her up
nice and send her on her way to start her own house or pay her to explore
Europe or the like. The men knew how to
behave as the Madame didn’t tolerate no funny business or hurting of her
girls. Plus the place had a mighty fine
bar. I tended to the linens and finery. I felt finally at peace. And the kind Madame was an angel of beauty
them soldiers, the Rough Riders, that came through. They were about as bad as the Law in my
opinion. They were the reason the Flame
needed to visit Madame Oar’s . They treated the girls as rough as their name
mauling them, ruining them in a way only the Flame could cleanse. It seemed fitting they took the blame for
what happened after. It’s just a shame -
a crying shame - they weren’t ever brought under the weight of the Law. Then again I ain’t surprised. Vile creations like the Rough Riders and the Law
swim in the same fetid pool.
expect you want to hear about what happened that night. After the Riders ravaged the women of Madame
Oar’s and corrupted them completely transforming them into trash I saw what
needed to be done. It was a shame, a
crying shame but the Flame is a spirit of cleansing. I can’t rightly understand why the Flame had
me join those needing cleansing but trust the righteous decision of the Flame. Maybe I had become affected by proxy-my soul
had been scarred by the Riders horrid work so I accept the judgment of the Flame,
much as it hurts. Perhaps my work is done. I think I even saw the dark angels take the
Madame just as the Flame began to purify me.
forward to spending eternity in Mother’s bosom.
in the ruins of Madame Oar’s House