Tom dropped to his knees, a gurgling sound coming from the hole in his throat as he tried to give voice to his pain. His eyes bulged out, fear replaced by agony before he shifted to the left. A moment later, the only noise that came from the corpse was the slow drip of blood.
Margret was crouched behind one of the desks that weren’t flipped over. She had her cheek pressed against the floor, no longer worried about messing up her make up, and was watching the room in front of her.
She had heard the commotion outside, but instead of jumping up with the others to go see what was happening, Margret had taken a moment to save her project and lock her computer. A few seconds spent in the attempt to save her work saved her life. She had just stood up when Ann’s body had been thrown across the room to smack against either side of Mr. Franklins’ office.
Now, she watched as Tom’s eyes went glassy and the gigantic, hairy foot stepped down into the growing pool of the cute man’s blood.
She could hear it sniffing the air. A sniffle, two steps one way, another sniffle, and then two steps back the other. She knew it could smell her; her fear or the musky perfume that she had decided to wear. What it smelled didn’t matter. The monster was searching for her.
When it stepped around the desk behind her, Margret closed her eyes. “Please don’t let it hurt,” She whispered as she heard the sniffling speed up.
There was a soft, wispy sound beside her face, and Margret couldn’t help but crack open one eye to look at the bloody fur of the beasts paw beside her. There were bits of some stringy body part clinging to the curved claws that rested a few inches from her face and Margret squeaked before shutting her eyes tighter. “Please don’t let it hurt.”
Whatever this was, it sniffed all over her. Margret remained rigid, her face on the floor while bent over on all fours. She tried to keep quiet, but more to keep from screaming than because she thought the creature might leave her be.
The monster leaned further down. It lowered its weight onto her and put its face down beside her cheek. Tears and snot leaked down onto the floor as Margret bit down on her lip and drew blood.
When her cheek was touched, it was rough, warm and wet. One, long, drawn out touch that ran from the base of her neck, up her cheek and then came away at her hair line.
It had licked her.
The animal licked her again, then drew away and started sniffing again. It alternated between the two, until Margret’s face was as wet and sticky as the day her father had brought home her first puppy.
When the creature used its nose to push Margret from behind, she slid forward and sprawled out. The tongue licked behind her knee and Margret opened her eyes. A new terror had replaced her fear of being torn apart.
As she looked under her desk, trying to think of any escape from the attentions of whatever this was, she saw her overturned purse. The new bottle of perfume had rolled out and sat facing her.
“Full Moon Musk: Call The Wild.”
The surface was smooth, a dark mirror that reflected the soft yellow light of the old bulbs in a way that made it hard to determine the color of the liquid in the bowl.
The bowl itself did not help. It was stone, old and rough and stained on the outside from years of use. It was so much older than anything else in the room that everyone looking at it felt small compared to the years the object had seen.
She gazed into the bowl, long white hair hanging down in a wispy veil. The veil was tattered, due to its age and a lack of care. The hairs stuck together, knots and tangles that added character to the veil, as if someone had woven in beads and baubles over the years.
We sat and watched. None of us dared to move or even take a deep breath for fear that we might disturb the seer and ruin our chance to get an answer.
My parents sat side by side, holding hands and waiting for an answer. Years had been passed while we were searching for my brother, but so far, none of us had heard anything. We were so strung out from searching and hunting that we had neglected our health, walking skeletons that he might not recognize if he did return.
“There is no answer here.” The old fraud raised her head, revealing two white, sightless eyes. “He is not on the other side.”
“I thought the spirits could find him on this side?” My father looked furious, but I knew he was nothing but words. The man’s fire, passion and soul had been burned out of him by the search light he had carried on so many dark nights.
“The spirits could find him on either side if he were normal,” the old woman said. “You have kept something from me. He is not normal is he?”
My mother began to cry. My father trained an angry scowl on the seer as he wrapped his arms around my mother. It did no good, the old woman was blind, but if it made him feel better it was alright.
The crone turned her white eyes on me. “He is not normal and you knew that.”
Both parents froze and turned to face me. They stared at me with wide eyes while the blind woman stared at me with sightless ones. But as they looked, I stared back into the past, to the green and yellow eyes that had looked back at me from the porch. Those eyes had been glowing too bright to be hidden by the shadows.
When he had walked towards me, I dropped to my knees to pray. I mumbled hymns as he relieved himself on my down turned head. I had stayed there, terrified of nothing but a pair of eyes as he walked away. I never told anyone. I couldn’t tell them. If they believed me, believed that my brother was possessed, then our whole family would have been burned.
“Say the word child. There is only one and it is the truth.”
“What is she talking about?”
“What do you know young lady?”
“Say the word child. It is the only way to give them peace.”
I was crying. Big, salty tears streaked down my face as I tried to look at my mother. Her face was so blurry. My father’s face was red, despite my inability to see the details.
“What did you see?” The old woman’s voice was so quiet that I wondered if she had spoken aloud or if I had imagined it.
I turned to the window, unable to face them when I said it, but found my voice stolen. A single, croaking sound rumbled out of my throat as I saw his eyes glowing at me through the glass again.
The seer gasped and keeled over. I was right behind her and the last sound I heard as I felt the weight of my skull drag me backward to the floor was a slimy voice that made me imagine slugs crawling on my arms.
“I am home.”
Torin pressed his back to the cold, damp wall and bit his lip in an effort to keep from screaming. His hands clenched the handle of a beautiful axe, but his arms betrayed him, quivering from fright at what he had just witnessed. The big man fought to slow his panic. He forced himself to take deep, lung filling breaths of the dank air that filled the cavern. He tried to direct his mind to examine the mundane details of the odors in this hellish place so that he might master the fear that made his knees quake.
The warrior could smell the rotting roots and the heady scent of the fungus that they had walked over as the group had entered. He and his friends had stood in a low fog of spores as they stared at the remains of a once great tomb.
“I told you the map was real.” The short man in the front turned around to look at them. He turned from face to face, looking up at Torin so that he could look each of the group in the eyes. “The Necropolis of Dranoel.”
“Yes Marcus, you were right,” the heavily armored man on the far right of the group said. “And I do owe you an apology for doubting you.”
“No Nale, you owe me a lot of beer when we get done.”
The group laughed at the rogue’s concept of apology as they headed toward what they had believed to be a simple place to pillage.
As they walked forward, Orin said, “All accounts say that Dranoel was a minor necromancer who had built a tomb the size of a village as a base of power. As far as anyone knows he was hunted and killed by the King’s guard for grave robbing. In truth, it was a preemptive measure to quell the possibility of threat. The wizard’s body was burned and the ashes scattered long ago.”
Torin looked at the imposing structure as the group approached. This was no town, it was a fortress. But, he figured that legends were often wrong so as long as there was treasure, he didn’t care about the buildings description.
There hadn’t been any more laughter after that. There had been nothing but eerie silence as the group methodically explored the ruins. There was a great deal of treasure for a minor necromancer, but nobody complained.
They fought into the heart of the complex, long dead corpses rising up to meet them as they went. They plundered, many of them finding wonderful things that would fetch piles of gold and kegs of beer.
They explored, until they found the mistress of the necropolis.
The legends had been close. Dranoel had indeed been burnt and scattered. What the legends had not known was that Dranoel had been an apprentice. The portrait of him standing beside his mistress showed a beautiful and terrifying woman. The group had stood and marveled at the work until the cleric stepped closer to examine it. The creature that fell upon him had once been voluptuous, but it was now wrapped in linen and its touch had rotted poor Orin’s head off his shoulders before his prayers could escape his lips. The others ran as his attacker turned on them.
The creatures in the deep vaults were powerful. The men had no names for most of them. Almost ever one of them had been a woman and with each encounter, another of Torin’s friends fell.
Torin had watched a vampire tear Nale’s throat out. The creature had been voluptuous and beautiful. It had mesmerized three others, so that despite his yelling, they stood there and waited for her to finish his leader and come for them.
Marcus had been swarmed by spiders made out of bone and skull. Some of them still had long braids trailing from the stained bone. Marcus was bitten, over and over, until he fell and screamed while blood bubbled out of his mouth to obscure the sound.
Gore spattered Torin’s armor. The stink of it mixed with the air to make the big fighter want to vomit. Twenty men had entered the city. One man now tried to calm himself enough to think of a way out of the hell he had entered.
He was alone. He was still blessed with dark sight but Torin didn’t know how long the spell would last with his friend dead.
It was so cold. Even for a cave, the air felt frigid. In the moon light of the seeing, he saw his breath. Torin had never noticed seeing his breath while underground before.
Goose flesh erupted over his body. Shivering from fear became shivering to keep warm.
Torin closed his eyes, squeezing them while grinding his teeth together to keep his jaws from chattering.
It seemed that the hall was getting brighter. Even with his eyes shut, the darkness was less than it should have been. It soon seemed like he was lying outside, facing the sky, waiting for the sun to come out from behind a thin cloud.
The warrior lost the war with his jaw, and the clicking of his chattering teeth sounded like an army running down the hall towards him.
The light became brighter. Torin now squinted his eyes shut against the brightness. There was no warmth, he felt as if he were again standing guard duty in the southern garrison. Standing and holding a pike while frost spread across the poor excuse for a cloak that they had given him. He tightened his jaw, managing to stop the chattering long enough to hear one whispered word.
A single word, so quiet that it might have been whispered by his mother when she died in the night.
I don’t have a title for this one that I am happy with. “Revenge” is what comes to mind but that just seems under-whelming.
Also, I am thinking of doing a story as a serial. What do most of you think. Are serials on a blog a good thing or a bad one?
L. E. White
All Jack needed to do was to move two feet. If he could move, then he could reach the latch. If he could reach the latch, he could open it.
The bomb was attached to the latch. It would blow when Jack messed with the lever that held the boats together. Jack would die in that explosion. He knew it, but it didn’t matter.
Dead was better than this.
He pulled, trying to drag his slick, tortured hand through the cuff, but when that didn’t work, he shifted his hands back together and started clawing at it with his other hand. It hurt so bad, but trying to scratch enough of his own flesh away to get free so that he could kill himself was better than waiting for this other death.
The one he knew was coming. The one he felt.
The one her father had promised him on sunny, summer morning.
When Jack came around the sun light glaring in his eyes was confusing. The last thing he remembered was walking out to his car last night. He had been walking out of whats-her-names house after she had given him a BJ and he was heading home. He remembered a burst of pain and then falling.
When he tried to move, he realized his hand and feet were connected. His ass was up in the hot, humid air and his cheek was resting on some smooth surface. There was something jammed into his mouth and it felt like a belt was wrapped around his head. He was trussed up like a pig.
Jack knew that voice. He knew it and he feared it.
It was Beverly’s father.
“I don’t know if you realize exactly what is happening here, but since I gagged you I know you won’t be asking me. That’s fine, I planned to tell you anyway.”
A shadow blocked out the sun. Jack wasn’t in a position to look up much but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t move enough to face him. He wouldn’t have faced him if he had any other choice in the world anyway.
A hand rested on Jacks head. It wasn’t stroking his hair or pulling it. Instead, it just rested there, unmoving and unnerving.
“I told you when they arrested you that the only safe place for you was in jail. When you got off on a technicality you must have known I would be coming for you. There was no way you were going to get away with what you did to my little girl. There was no way I would allow you to do that to someone else’s little girl.”
Jack tried to say something around the gag. Her father grabbed his ear and twisted it until all Jack was doing was crying.
“Don’t try to talk, I don’t want to hear you.”
The man rested his head back on Jack’s head as he waited for the young man to quiet down.
“Better. Now then, I have you here and I am putting an end to you. We both know that, but what you don’t know is how. I want to share that with you. So I will explain as I we go along.”
Jack felt the intrusion, the sudden, stabbing into his rectum, but it wasn’t all that painful and since her dad didn’t move it wasn’t him extracting some form of poetic justice.
“That was the tip of an enema bag. I am going to shoot your bottom full of water. “
There was a rushing sensation, a feeling of being full to the point of Jack’s stomach beginning to ache. Then, the thing was removed and jack was drug into a sitting position.
Now that his face was up, he could see his captor clearly. Bev’s dad looked like he always did. A t-shirt and jeans plus that stupid trucker hat he always wore on the weekends. He was standing beside an old wooden canoe that Jack was sitting in. Jack had his hands and feet cuffed together, he was naked, and now that her dad had given him the enema, he had to go very badly.
Bev’s dad picked up another canoe, and turned it upside down. He put it over the top of Jack, so that his head was poking out of a hole that had been cut in the middle. Then, he started moving around the boat.
“I have packed the edge of this top canoe with powder and ball bearings. If these latches are flipped, the whole thing turns into a pipe bomb. I don’t want you getting out of this.”
Jack bit down on the gag to keep quiet.
After that, the guy put on a pair of chest waders, the big rubber pants that some men wore to walk through a river when fishing, and then he smiled at Jack. Bev’s dad walked to the end of the boat.
“Have you figured out what is going to happen yet?”
Jack shook his head a tiny bit, afraid to move. He felt a bubble in his stomach and fought not to shit himself in the boat.
Her dad pushed the boat out a bit and began to wade into the tiny pond. “This is only a few feet deep, so I am going to push you out to the middle and anchor you there.”
Jack turned his head to look at the man when he moved up to the side of the boat. “This is one of the oldest forms of torture. I am going to leave you here, and you are going to shit yourself. The smell is going to draw in flies and they will lay eggs on you. Especially in those small cuts I made on your back. ”
Jack’s eyes widened. He began to thrash and pull against the cuffs but the strain caused him to let loose. His ass emptied into the boat in a rumbling fart that he and his friends would have laughed at any other time. He felt the gooey mass expand around him in the boat.
“That’s right. The fly larva will hatch and eat you. This will be slow and terrible. You will feel them wiggling and working around and you won’t be able to stop them. This is horrible and I hope you suffer. After what you did to my little angel, you deserve to suffer.”
Bev’s dad waded away, leaving Jack to stew in his juices and wait. Once he was out of the water and all of the stuff had been gathered up he turned back to the condemned. “By the way, this is private property. No one is around and no one is going to hear you try to scream around that gag. You are a pretty big boy, so I expect you to survive through at least two hatchings. You might die from starvation or de-hydration, but I don’t think you will. Remember, you deserve this.”
Jack had screamed at her father as he walked away. He screamed again when he heard the first of the buzzing.
It hurt so bad, clawing at one hand to try and get enough skin and meat out of the way so that he could get loose. That pain was nothing though. It had been two days. He found out that the flies hatch from the eggs in about a day. His back was on fire. Burning, tingling and stabbing all at once with a healthy dose of itch included.
The buzzing was so loud. They were all around the canoe as another one landed on his head beside his ear. The little bastard was crawling into his ear. Jack slammed his head sideways and tried to smash it, but it didn’t work. He could feel it in his ear.
He pulled at the handcuff and when his hand didn’t slip through, he screamed around the gag.
“I don’t know about this.”
“I think you’re going to love it.”
“But what if we get caught?”
“Who is going to catch us here?”
“No. No ‘But’. We have lain in bed talking about this before. I know you want to try it. I want to try it too.”
“I’m sorry; I’m just worried about what can happen.”
“I love you and I will make sure nothing ever happens to you.”
She looked down at her shoes, blushing a deep red, and then peeked up at him through her eyelashes. “Ok. I love you too.”
The big man lifted her chin and leaned down to place a soft, sweet kiss on her lips before saying, “Do you want to start?”
The petite young woman shook her head no, but there was a mischievous grin on her face. One that reached her eyes and made them sparkle.
“Pick how I should start.”
She pointed. He reached over to the table, and picked up a pair of pliers. She nodded and giggled.
Then he turned towards me. He lifted the pliers in front of the eye that wasn’t swollen shut and flexed them so that I could see.
“Now pick where I should start baby.”
The pixie woman that I had been flirting with at the bar walked up beside him, her fingertip tracing a line around full, luscious lips before pointing at me with one bright red finger nail.
After that, I screamed.
Carl knew Michael wasn’t in good enough shape to waste precious breath to yell at him. The man was a little heavier and did not run unless he was chased.
Like they were being chased now.
Carl turned to look back over his shoulder, but his cousin wasn’t there. The only thing he could see was a large black mass crashing through the grass towards them.
The two men had both turned eighteen in the last month of high school. After graduation, their fathers had demanded that they get summer jobs and save up some money before starting college.
But that was not so easy in the little, rural town they had moved to. This red-neck, racist, back-water was horrible. It didn’t matter that they had both been born in Texas. It didn’t matter that Michael’s dad was from Hawaii and had come here to write computer software. It really didn’t matter that Carl’s father was a lawyer in the city and hour away.
Both boys looked Hispanic and that they had come into this cliché filled school for their senior year. Almost nobody wanted them around and most days, they heard someone call them a filthy beaner.
What mattered to them, both of them, was that they would only be here for three more months.
They hadn’t found jobs, nobody would hire them. Even the adults thought of them as outsiders. So they had given up.
That had been a mistake. When Michael’s father found out they had quit job hunting, he had went off the deep end. The parents agreed that the boys had to keep looking but that they would lose their cars until they could pay their own gas.
Josh Barnes, one of the only decent people in the piss-hole high school had told Carl about a farmer who needed help putting up hay. “its hard work, but he won’t care who you are if you work hard.”
They had walked two miles to get to the place. They could see the house, way off in the distance form the road, and Michael spat on the ground. “I don’t see a drive way.”
“Has to be one somewhere.”
“Yeah, on the other side of the fucking farm.”
Carl wiped sweat out of his eyes. “Well, either we walk around and find it or we turn around, listen to our dad’s bitch and continue not having cars.”
“We could cut through. It’s just a big field.”
Crossing the farm was a bad idea. Carl thought it was like cutting across someone’s yard. Most people would yell at you, but out here in bumble-fuck Indiana, there was a good chance of getting shot it.
“No, we need to go around”
“You want shot at?”
“Some old farmer isn’t going to shot at us for walking up to his house.”
Carl shook his head. “Then who else would shoot at us for walking through a field?”
Michael started climbing over the fence. “Stop being a pussy and come on. I want my car back.”
The grass was tall and golden. The wind made it look like an ocean with waves rolling across it as they made their way towards the farm.
“Look at the cows.” Carl said as they got closer to the buildings.
“You want to try tipping one or you wanting to pet one?”
They kept going, and as they got closer the animals noticed them. A few of the smaller ones ran away from them, but one headed in their direction.
“Good lord that is a big fucking cow.” Michael said. “That thing is freaking huge.”
“I don’t think that is a cow.”
“Ok Farmer Brown, then that is a big fucking bull.”
Carl shook his head and watched the big, black animal come closer. “You don’t think that thing is dangerous do you?”
“I doubt a walking hamburger is dangerous when it doesn’t have horns. That isn’t like a Texas Longhorn.”
The bull had come up to them and bellowed, which made them both stop walking. It snorted once, and then started running towards them.
Michael stood still for a second before he turned to Carl. “Shit!”
Carl, was already turning to run.
The sun was hot, it beat down on them as they walked to the farm, but now the breeze had kept him cool. Now that Carl was running for the road, he felt the heat of the summer air in his lungs, and the breeze wasn’t helping at all. Hot, humid air felt thick as he tried to breathe. Pain started up his side but to stop meant getting run over by a ton of beef. He wasn’t stopping for anything.
Until Michael yelled.
The bull was closer, making Carl think of a freight train as it pounded towards them. They couldn’t hope to get to the road. The field was huge and they had walked a long way to get here. There was no way.
Michael picked himself up and charged at Carl, every bit as frantic to catch back up to his cousin as the bull was to catch the both of them. Carl didn’t wait for him. He had not slowed much when he turned to look and now that Michael was back on his feet there was no reason to slow down.
They ran on, giving it there all. For a moment, Carl thought they might make it, that perhaps the animal just wanted to chase them out of the field. He could still hear Michael’s panting right behind him.
He could also hear the bull.
The hole in the field was small. It could have been the former home of a snake or maybe a rat. Carl could not feel the toe of his shoe go into it when he stepped down, but the sudden change in altitude caused him to turn his ankle. His foot caught, and he sprawled forward in the grass. Michael passed him in a second. Then, he felt the ground shake as the bull charged past after the boy that it could still see running away.
Carl rose up and tested his ankle. He couldn’t put weight on it but he didn’t think it was broken. His cousin and the bull were ahead of him and from where he stood he could see the beast catching up to its target.
Michael screamed when the animal made contact. A couple of thousand pounds of steak butted the boy’s legs with its nose. Michael went down in a tangled pile, followed by the bull pounding down with its feet as it wheeled and came to a stop.
Carl watched as the bull bounced the front of its body up into the air with a short hop so that it could smash its head down with greater force. He couldn’t see his cousin’s body, but Michael screamed as the bull crashed down, and then repeated the action. The animal pushed and rubbed its head on the ground, causing quieter screams each time. Over and over, the bull would back up a step and raise up to get enough distance to smash its head back down, but after a minute, the only sound Carl heard was its snorting breath.
Carl sat down, pulled his knees to his chest and prayed that the bull wasn’t smart enough to remember that there had been two boys in the field.
He started praying out loud when he felt a snort of hot air on the side of his head.
Sam perked up and looked toward the field. He growled and rose to his feet, then barked once.
Mike stopped hammering as he turned to look at his dog. “You hear something buddy?”
Sam looked at him, and then looked back towards the house and the field beyond it.
“You just stay with me. I’m sure the cats won’t eat whatever it is that Amy just scrapped into your bowl before I’m done.”
The hammer hit the nail a few more time, and then Mike moved back to the four-wheeler to drop his tool into the bucket on the back. As he stood admiring his work, his stomach growled to remind the old farmer how long it had been since breakfast.
“Alright, let’s go get some dinner.”
He mounted his ride, reached down and scratched the dogs ears, then headed back for lunch. Leaving his new “Beware of Bull” sign on a fence post at the end of his driveway.
~ End ~
We install my big project at work this weekend. Wish me luck.
L. E. White
I am sitting in an American airport on a layover before making the final flight home. I will be waiting in the Indianapolis Airport for a few hours to pick up my wife, and then I will be home with my kids. I really enjoyed Ireland but I gotta say,
That really about sums it up. Although I do wonder if anyone enjoys reading the random bits that I always start with. I am thinking of switching the posts around so that the story comes first. I am also thinking that I should title the posts with the story title. If any of you have an opinion, I would love to hear it.
I will be posting other bits about my trip but for now, I am tired and I am going to keep this short. I just want to share one bit of good news.
I have received confirmation of one of my new stories, “Wild Feast”, being selected for inclusion in an Upcoming anthology from Siren’s Call Publications. This marks my fourth piece with that fantastic group and my first acceptance of 2013. It was a great piece of mail to get while I was on my trip and I can’t wait to share the details with you once I have them.
Until I do have them, cheers.
L. E. White
As my wrists burn from the strain, I am forced to admit to just how much of an idiot I am. You always hear stories about stupid tourists, but I always thought I was too smart for that. I always thought that I would be smarter than that.
Now, as I hang from the ceiling, I realize that I am just as stupid as every other penis carrying card member of the, “I think with my dick” club.
She was so beautiful, walking towards me in that skirt, her hips swinging from side to side so much that I thought about the time when I got two cats to fight inside a burlap sack. Her hair was long and curly and it bounced up and down on her shoulders as she came closer.
When she got closer, I noticed that the bouncing of her hair was matched by by the bouncing of her breasts. I assume my jaw must have dropped open when I realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra under that thin shirt. I know the rest of me reacted to that knowledge but I figured she noticed my gape mouthed stare when she asked me if I saw something I liked.
It was cold, but she still stopped to talk to me. I don’t remember saying much that made any sense, but she laughed and asked if I wanted to join her for a drink.
I was so focused on her body, I can’t remember if I answered or just nodded.
The rest of the night was a blur. I have images of drinks and flirting and gentle touches where finger tips brush the back of one hand or another but nothing more specific.
Until I woke up in a drafty old castle, chained to a ceiling with a nasty headache and the realization that I was in serious trouble.
I hear the clicking of heels on stone as she approaches. I don’t want to show any fear, but I am shaking so bad my teeth are chattering when she comes in.
“Oh, you poor darling, are you cold?” She walks over, and runs her hands up and down my back. Looking into my eyes. “Would you like me to let you go?”
She smiles and her eyes smolder. “First things first, I think I want to warm you up a bit.”
Her hands are wandering around to some of the most distracting places.
“Would you like me to warm you up?”
“Please let me go.”
She stops allowing her hands to wander and undoes my pants. The change in tactic is sudden, but she is really giving it her all to change my mind. I can’t help but to react when she raises up from where she was kneeling on the ground. “Are you sure you want me to let you go right now?”
I answer without thinking. “Please don’t stop.”
“Are you asking me to warm you up?”
She kneels back down and pulls my belt out of my pants. Then, this angelic looking creature shoves it into my mouth as a gag before she walks away.
I am hanging, gagged, with my pants around my ankles, as I listen to the clicking of her heels fade away and return. She walks around the corner and that is when I start trying to scream around my gag. I realize how stupid I am and it is too late to do anything about it.
She is wearing a hungry smile and carrying a gas can.
Top O the Morning
I am sitting in the airport, attached to the free wireless, about to board a plane to New Jersey.
Thanks to the influence of an old friend, I always pronounce this as “JoySee”
From there I will be heading to Shannon Ireland and then to work at my employers facility there for a week.
What amazes me is how everyone seems to think travelling over is so great. Why would a long flight and a car ride to another computer docking station be a good thing? I am not going to sight-see. I am not going to go exploring on of the most interesting places in the world. I am simply flying to another cubicle.
I just see this as my job.
On the other hand, my wife is already there and because of that I will get to have my girl with me. That is something I think is worth its weight in gold. Everything is better when she is around.
So, I am about to fly out and I will have this weeks post done. I am glad that I remembered to do it now. This way, I don’t miss my self-imposed update schedule.
You all enjoy your week and I hope it goes well. Wish me luck.
The lights are flickering. Not strobe like, but enough to be disorienting. It is dark outside so the only way to see as I move through the terminal is by that damned flickering.
More than half of the bulbs aren’t even trying to flicker.
I am afraid of the shadows. If what I saw on my way here is any indication, then those things come out of the dark spots. Each pillar, each potted plant and the space under every row of benches scares the shit out of me. Whatever they are, they live in the shadows. If we shine a light into the darkness, all we ever see is a smear from the blood that was just spilled.
No monsters, no bodies, nothing but a smear or a puddle.
I watched a pale, bluish arm come out of the shadows and drag Keith behind the wall. He didn’t even have enough time to get a good scream out before I heard a sound that reminded me cleaning fish.
I saw Shannon ‘s face when a hand with long fingers wrapped around her head. Those fingers had to many joints, and they wrapped around her head like ribbons in a little girls hair.
I vomited when it squeezed and her brains shot out her ears . If I had time, I would change my pants to get the gooey stuff off of them, but I don’t dare go anywhere to find more clothes.
I have some batteries and I have a couple of small flash lights with a tourist logo on them. I just hope they will get me to someplace open and sunny.
But there are a lot of shadows between me and the doors. There are a lot of dark spots.
And there aren’t any other people. I am alone, the place is quiet.
Except for the sound of something crawling along the floor.
Crawling towards me.
I don’t swim. I sink. I have always sunk and because of this I just stay out of the water.
My wife says this is because of my inability to relax. Water doesn’t relax me. I never sit in a hot tub of water and think, ahhhhhhhh.
I may well be related to the Wicked Witch of the West and I am OK with that.
For the next month, work is going to be crazy. Big project is due and overtime is required. Get it done or clean your desk kind of due. With that in mind, I may miss one of the next few posts. If I do, I’m sorry.
I am trying to tread water between work and not work. I feel like I am sinking but I won’t drown without a fight.
Enjoy the story and with any luck, I will have time to write another for next week.
L. E. White
Marlene and Carrie walked hand in hand. The wind was bitter as it whipped around their legs and blew long wisps of hair out from underneath stocking caps. Cold cut through coats and scarves but their joined hands made each happy to be out.
Carrie peeked over. She was shivering, despite the heavy coat and leggings, but Marlene didn’t seem fazed. Skirt, hose and a short coat made her look beautiful Carrie was guessing that the girl was about to turn blue and freeze. “Why don’t we stop at that coffee shop and warm up?”
Marlene turned a dazzling, but mischievous, smile on the other woman. “Why don’t we hurry back to your apartment and warm up there?”
Hours later, warmer and cozy in her bed, Carrie rested her head on Marlene’s stomach, her long, dark hair spread down her lovers legs like a grass skirt.. “Do you think about moving in here with me so that we don’t have to meet out in the park?”
Marlene shifted her hand back and forth, lightly scratching long red nails across Carrie’s scalp. “I have, but I can’t. I need some serious privacy and my place has it.”
“Of course it does, you live in a basement of a building that should probably be condemned.”
“Watch it making cracks about my building,” Marlene said as she reached forward and tweaked Carrie’s nose.
“I wouldn’t mind giving up my office for your private time if meant you would be here.” Carrie stretched her arm down and began dragging a single finger nail up and down the bottom of Marlene’s foot. A low growl rumbled under Carrie’s head in response to that touch.
“Do you love me?”
Carrie sat up and turned to face Marlene. She marveled at the wild, auburn hair that covered the pillow, framing bright, almost glowing eyes that reminded her of milk caramel’s. “Yes, that is why I keep telling you that.”
“Would you love me no matter what?”
“Yes but that is a scary way to put it.”
“I can be scary, you just haven’t seen it.”
Carrie laid down so that when Marlene turned her head, they were nose to nose on the pillow. “Do you have some kind of murder room like Dexter or something?”
“No, I have never hurt anyone.”
Carrie stared for a while before saying, “Can you tell me what you’re talking about?”
“No, but I can show you next week.”
Carrie stood just inside the door in Marlene’s basement apartment. She looked around, trying to see if anything was different from any other time she had been here.
She followed her girlfriend to the bedroom. Marlene walked over to her closet door and opened it. “Go ahead,” She said, motioning through the door. “We are going in.”
Carrie walked in, and when Marlene flipped on the lights, it turned out that they weren’t in a closet, but a hallway. Marlene closed the door and locked it behind them before leading Carrie down the hall.
Carrie had wide eyes as she looked around the little room. Marlene had brought one of her kitchen chairs in and sat it in the corner. Against the far wall, there were chains.
“Are you into bondage? Because that isn’t that scary. I kinda like being tied up.”
“I will remember that but no, I hate being tied up.” Marlene walked to the corner. “Please come here and sit down.”
Carrie did, looking up with doe eyes while Marlene stroked her face and hair. “Promise me you won’t get out of the chair.”
Carrie nodded and then Marlene leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were full of passion and Carrie nearly stood up to keep from breaking contact when Marlene backed away from the chair.
The spunky little red-haired girl walked over to the chains and stripped off her clothes. Carrie admired her and stood up to go over to her.
“You promised not to move.”
Carrie thumped back into the chair, with a frustrated sigh. Her girlfriend was undressing and she wasn’t allowed to help. It seemed very unfair.
Marlene snapped a collar on one of the chains and then put it around her neck. She did that same thing for each of four more until she was bound hand and foot to the wall.
“I thought you didn’t like to be tied up?”
“I don’t, but this is a requirement. Now be quiet.”
Carrie frowned, crossed her arms across her chest and her legs at the knee. She sat staring at Marlene and waiting for the big, scary thing to happen as Marlene put a cloth gag into her own mouth.
After a few minutes, Marlene let out a high-pitched whining noise and crumpled to her knees. Carrie jumped up and started forward but then Marlene jerked and snarled around the gag. Her eyes had turned yellow and the skin on her face looked like it had been shrink-wrapped into place.
The change only took about three minutes, but when it was done, Marlene was gone, replace by a growling beast that looked like a cross between a Mexican hairless dog and a chimpanzee.
She sat, hugging her knees to her chest, sobbing. Carrie watched the monster that came out of her girlfriend lung to the end of the chain over and over again. All it wanted to do was eat her.
She laughed at the gruesome play on words and tried to think of happy times spent together. Hot tea and cake. Soft kisses and gentle touches. Being pinned against the wall and kissed with so much passion that she thought Marlene would bruise her lips.
Each thought transformed, destroyed as the Marlene shifted into this thing and then killed Carrie. Every happy thought ended in blood.
Carrie stood up and pressed her back to the wall. She was far enough out of reach to have walked to the door without being touched, but she couldn’t bring herself to get that close.
Light swam into view, the soft glow of the rooms only bulb, as Marlene woke up. The pulsing of bright white around the edges would go away in time, but if she tried to move to soon she would have to clean vomit off of the floor again.
So she just stayed still. Letting the ringing in her ears subside while praying that Carrie had fallen asleep.
After a few minutes, Marlene turned her head, and saw that the chair was empty. While hoping that Carrie had just went to the bathroom or to bed, she was worried that the beautiful girl had fled. This was the third time she had tried to be honest and show the person she loved the monster inside of her.
Please don’t leave me, she thought. Please, please, please.
There was something on the floor between her and the chair. Something small and dark.
Marlene was starting to get control of her limbs again, so she removed the restraints and crawled to see what it was.
Small, with a round bottom and a mushroom like head, Marlene rolled the spent bullet between her thumb and finger. She sat up straighter and looked around the room.
There were four more bullets between her and the door. Five shiny brass casings were lying to the side.
Carrie had stood in the doorway and tried to kill her.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto her knees, as the weight of another lover rejecting her settled around her shoulders.
With the other two, Marlene had stood up and started cussing them after a few minutes. Carrie was different. She was so sweet and soft. She was so loving and tender. She was gone, and Marlene felt her heart-break as she considered lying in her own, cold bed.
This time, she ignored her clothes and headed to her room. Each step felt like walking against the surf, grief pushing her backward until she dropped to the floor, sobbing the way she had when her mother had died.
Marlene was cold and numb, her foot had fallen asleep where she sat on the floor, but the tears had stopped and now she was going to lie down. She would try to sleep and hope that she couldn’t smell Carrie’s perfume on the pillows.
When the door to her bedroom opened, Marlene was slapped in the face by a metallic smell. It was harsh and rancid in the heat of the room and she darted through the darkness to the other wall.
Marlene pawed around until she found the light switch. She flicked it on, and took a few deep breaths through her mouth before turning to face her bed. When she did, she screamed.
The sixth little brass casing was lying at the foot of the bed.