purgatory

Chapter 9

"It's about time!" Uganda chuckled, standing beside the gravestone as he smoked his pipe.

I rubbed the back of my neck, "sorry we just-"

He waved his hands in the air to interrupt me as he took a hit from his pipe.

"No need to explain! We're going to be late!"

The play!

He put his pipe behind him, hanging it from a loop off his belt. He motioned for me to follow as he grabbed my hand leading me the opposite direction from Peach and Plum's. He dragged me along until we found a road, paved neatly at an abrupt stop.

"Ever rode a motorcycle?" he asked, turning to me with a sly grin.

Before i could answer, he walked to the edge of the forest pushing a motorcycle from the shrubs to the road.

"Wait a minute!" I said, taking a few steps back.

"No time to wait!" he said, swinging his leg over the seat before patting the one behind him.

He turned the key, letting out a ripping noise from the exhaust. I ran over, jumping on the back of the motorcycle, throwing my arms over his waist. he slowly pushed it forward, before quickly rushing down the road. He sped faster, until the trees lined into a green blur along the sides of the road.

"No need for helmets!" He shouted over the wind, " nobody dies in purgatory!" he laughed.

I wrapped my arms tighter around his waist, as I watched the world pass by.

The road took a long curve to the left, spreading into a wider street. Only a few Occupants filled the street. A lone horseman trotted along the ditch, tipping his hat to me as we passed. I waved a short goodbye before we took another turn.

Uganda slowed, taking another turn down a street into large city.

"This isn't Oregon!" he said, looking back over his shoulder to me.

The building began to become taller, stretching to the sky.

"No. We're in New York!" I shouted, throwing my arms into the air.

The streets were filled with people in old cars, classics, even riding on animals. I looked over Uganda's head, seeing the back of an elephant that carried a litter on top of it, draped with silk and lace.

"Where's everybody going!" I said, looking around at all the joyous people.

"To Shakespeare's play!" He said, "never forget hes famous!"

A man beside us sat in a chariot, drawn by two large horses, painted with circles over their eyes and hand print's on the flanks.

He nodded toward me, before slowly grazing forward in traffic. Uganda pulled forward, merging to the left lane and pulling into a narrow alley. Turning off his motorcycle, he helped me off.

"We'll get there faster if we run!" He said, hurrying me along the sidewalk.

People gathered in crowds, laughing among themselves in delight.

"How do we get in?"

Uganda pulled me toward another alley, this time beside an opera house with lights that pierced into the late evening sky. The walls were made of fake ivory, delicate flowers and leaves carved into the side.

A gruff looking man stood near the back of the alley, dressed in a neatly pressed tuxedo. His arms were crossed over his chest; bald and squint eyed. He looked over at us, his bushy eyebrows furrowing into displeasure.