Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

The group headed into the main house, after appeasing the giant mastiffs
pacing outside with pats. (Renee made a point to steer clear of the
massive dogs, commenting to no one in particular, “I love cats, but large
dogs bother me…”)
The kitchen was in its perpetual a state of organized chaos; a seemingly
endless procession of heavy-set boys would scamper through the
swinging door at the back of the room, framed by old stone walls, or the
mastiff’s would lumber about, yelping and making a commotion. Dawn,
Samantha’s mother, was often in the kitchen; both organizing the constant
disarray and taunting it to new levels of entropy; cursing and thriving
off the disarray.
Alexi introduced the group to Samantha, who gave a nod. She gazed
wide-eyed at each in turn, with cat-like ambivalence and aloof silence.
She was standing with most of her weight on her left foot, thrust far
behind. Her usual defensive posture.
Dawn entered with one of the dogs right at her heels, and immediately
engaged Alexi in conversation.
“You’re running a little ragged,” she said bluntly. Her observations
were almost always right on target.
He sat down on a stool, and motioned for the rest of the group to
follow Samantha downstairs. “I’ll come down soon,” he said, when Ken
seemed hesitant. Satisfied with that, he exited.
Alexi turned back towards Dawn. His posture was more slumped now,
his head hanging heavily toward the ground. Her inquisitive eyes
searched his. The knowledge that she could generally see through all of
his histrionics and postures didn’t make him uncomfortable, in fact, it put
him at ease. At the same time, it made him more likely to posture in an
even more absurd manner then he would normally. He knew she enjoyed
a good act.
“I’m just a little…anxious. That’s all. I often get stressed out trying to
keep the energy up. People don’t realize the levels of pressure I put myself
through to make everything run smoothly, to mediate between the
people, not to mention the amount of time involved in preparation.”
She nodded, satisfied, and gave him a maternal pat. “I figured as
much. Well, I noticed that you’ve been toying around with our piano
some—it’s nice, it hasn’t seen much playing in such a long time. Why
don’t you go play and relax?”
“I’m not much good,” Alexi said, trying not to sound dejected. Whenever
he caught himself using that tone of voice, it usually made him feel
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