Flash Fiction by Jeannie Cruden
Visit the CH Percolator webpage to see what Flash Fiction is all about!
PLEASE NOTE: Some stories contain coarse language
Visit the CH Percolator webpage to see what Flash Fiction is all about!
PLEASE NOTE: Some stories contain coarse language
It was grown over with weeds, but you could see the tire marks that led back through it.
The sign at the top of the road read, no exit, Airport Road. We entered it anyway; we drove over the weed covered tire marks into darkness. We were waiting for the meteor showers to begin. The skies were hazy but we wanted to see the meteors shoot across the sky towards their destiny.
We could barely see the Milky Way, as it flashes its opaque world at us. We closed the car doors ever so slightly. It was darker then I had ever seen it. We moved slowly to the front of the car, blindly feeling our way. The stars are not bright enough to light our path. I shiver in the night air, wishing I were back in the safety of the car.
I hear it and so does he, The shiver of the trees in the night. I scream, and I can feel him smile as he places his arm around me. The shiver grows louder and we both jump. Then we see it.
A brilliant light coming towards us. The sound deafens us as it grows louder and louder. The ground is lit with brilliant white light. White changes to yellow then to orange and finally the fire red hits, And all sounds are gone, and nothing moves except the embers of it.
"Beachwood! Beachwood! 450 milligrams! Beachwood are you with us here?" Michaels screamed at her. "Give me that damn thing!" he yelled as he ripped the syringe from her hand, jamming into the victim's muscle. Sarah Beachwood played the scene over and over in her mind as she stood outside Darren Michaels door waiting for his dressing down.
"Come In Beachwood" he yelled from the other side of his door.
Sarah entered the spartan office of her new boss.
"Sit," he spat. "I thought you told me you had the stomach for this? Do you or don't you?"
Sarah eyebrows went up half a millimeter and bit the inside of her lip.
"Well damn it answer me."
"I..." the ringin phone interrupted her.
"What? Shit! When? Fine. Two minutes." he slammed the phone back in it's cradle and then looked at Sarah. "Come on. Let's go. I haven't got time to waste, this is your last chance and you better damn well get it right , so if you have a problem with selling dying peoples organs you get over it."
Sarah was silent. She followed her new boss back downstairs with the knowledge that if she couldn't press the plundger this time she would be the one lying on the cold metal slab of steel.
Berg slid her hand across the floor through the congealing blood. The Glock was farther away then she thought. Her fingertips barely touched the cold wet steel then slid down the side of it. She heaved a deep breath for strength, the smell of the drying blood turning her stomach but she forced her arm out again, exhausted. Berg could feel her arm pulling all its tendons away from the shoulder joint but the frigid steel touching her fingertips breathed fresh life into her. Hypnotically she pushed herself into a sitting position, with her one good arm.
Did that bastard Bo know what he was doing tonight when he brought her here? Or was he just a stupid asshole that knew nothing about what the fuck he was doing? Probably the later she thought. What kind of jerkoff makes a deal with the Barber? Fuck she was pissed off, even more pissed off then when he left her sitting at the bar on Fifth Street for two hours while he made a deal with a bunch of thugs from the West Side.
The piece felt good to hold again, her comfort zone was back. If you could call holding a gun covered in someone else's drying blood a comfort. She placed her gun in her lap and rubbed her shoulder. Her fingers slid into the deep crevice the Barber had probably create with his straight blade. The tendons had actually been cut away from her shoulder. Her fingers prodded the sinuous fiber ends, as she grinds her teeth.
Finally she opened her eyes as she removed her hand from her shoulder crevice. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lights of the freezer and she shivered as she realized what was hanging from the meat hooks around her. Why the hell did they leave her in here? With a gun for that matter? What the fuck had happened? If only she could remember.
Swaying a little as she stood, she tried to get her bearings. Where the hell was Bo? She blinked her eyes as Bo came into focus, his plastic covered flesh, fresh with blood stared blankly at her. She backed away from the suspended body. The next cold hard body she bumped into did nothing to calm her nerves, her feet slid out from under her on the blood wet floor and she landed with a thud.
The sound of the refrigerator motor whirled on and she jumped as new air was pumped into the room. The sweet smell of the blood was revived. Berg closed her eyes and tried to think her stomach into calmness. What the hell did she do now?
Finding the door was easy opening it was not. It had to be locked from the outside, but it opened inwards that meant all she had to do was remove the pins then pull the door inwards and she could open it. She had seen done in lots of movies, but not with only one arm.
Berg wiped the blood on her gun on her pants, and slid the gun into the back of her pants. Being an undercover cop was a lot tougher then she had thought it would be. She had just begun to try and pry the pins from the bracket when the handle of the door turned. Without a plan she was fucked and she knew it.
"Berg... How ya doin honey?" Trick asked, his smirk wide across his scrawny drug ridden face. "Yer' boyfriend should know better then to make us bother the Barber on his day off. But den again, I guess it don't matter anymore. Now does it?" he laughed and continued. "Hey you wanna we make friends sugar? I could make The Barber go real easy on ya. It ain't like he knows yer' a cop yet."
"Hey! Who the fuck you Calvin a cop?"
"You think I didn't know you was a cop? Bo told me just before I killed him."
"I thought the Barber killed Bo?"
"Na, but the Barber is on his way down here, and he ain't none too happy. It's his day off ya know. Last thing he likes to do on his day off is work." Berg shifted her feet on the drying blood, making sure they were on dry cement. The gun was out from behind her back and she forced a bullet between his eyes before his cocaine-pickled brain could understand it no longer had any gray brain matter.
Now came the next plan how to get the hell out of the Barber's shop without getting caught.
The child watched the hidden pitch of the ocean as the belligerent tide washed her feet. The air was acrid as she breathed the deep salty air. Her hair pricked at her eyes as the ocean breeze came seconds apart with the heartbeat of the tide. She wiggled her toes feeling the smooth pebbles beneath them. The sun was radiatiant as she watched the blue spray come at her again and again. The depths of the ocean impaired her vision as she was struck by a sudden shiver, she blinked. Her vision was clear and bright as she felt as though she was on a high precipice looking through a dark tunnel to an object which glistened and flickered in the light. As she reached for the object which appeared to be only inches away her world shifted. The rocks beneath her feet became smooth grains of sand, that warmed her toes, and filled her with delight. She looked down at her toes for but a second when she looked back the water was no longer it's incandescent blue. It was malignant, as the blue color faded to grey and finally black. The tide rushed at her as the black murky water, swallowed her little "Blue Pig."
The day was clear. The country road was bare of people and cars. The sun was hot and bright, so when I drove by the elderly woman not a mile from a car parked on the side of the road I decided to stop and pick her up. I slowed and electronically rolled down the window on that side.
"Did you need a ride?" I asked
"Sure." she answered, on the other side of the door she looked as harmless as she did walking. I unlocked the door and she got in, a slight breeze billowed her skirt, and the skinny legs under the skirt look fragile.
Immediately I began to wonder at my decision. She had gray hair and gray eyes and she smelled as though she hadn't had a bath in a few weeks. Her hair matted down on one side was greasy. Her hand bag,jammed full of fast food wrappers and paper bags smelled just as bad. She had no jewelry or any rings but she had a pocket watch hanging around her neck like an albatross. I tried not to stare at her.
"What happened to your car?"
"My car? Not sure.."
I tried again. "Did it over heat? or run out of gas or something?"
"Not that I know of." I looked over at her at I noticed a spot on her long skirt. The skirt was a shade of gray just like the rest of her, and her clothes. Therefore the spot appeared almost black. I am not sure how I knew what it was but I did and it frightened me.
"Wasn't that your car parked by the side of the road back there?"
"No, not mine." she answered.
"Uh.. where did you want me to take you?"
"Where are you going?" I stumbled on this, my honest answer came out before I had a chance to change my mind.
"Uptown." I swore under my breath when I realized that was still a half hour away.
"That is where I am going then." Her words are educated. It was odd she hadn't used a single contraction and only answered the questions. She had properly crossed ankles and her hands lay on her lap.
"Oh..ok... Uh... Did you spill something on your skirt?"
"No."
Just at that moment a car pulled in front of us, cutting us off. I swerved barely missing him.
"Fucker!" she screamed and I nearly peed myself. Her voice seemed surreal, loud and overbearing, coming from such an elderly fragile looking woman. "That fucker is goin' be dead, the bastard."
I tried to ignore her outburst and I glanced in my rearview mirror where I could see her eyes. The eerie feeling that came over me made me shiver. Her eyes were emotionless.
"Someone walked over your grave dear." she said as she reached over and touched my knee. Her hand was boney, her fingers felt as though they had reached through the material of my jeans and skin touched skin. I looked down at her hand, then at her and she removed her hand placing it back in her lap.
I thought of the blood spot on her skirt and I prayed she was sane. I knew I was wrong. The car from just a few minutes before changed lanes again, of course he didn't signal and me with my impatience I honked my horn.
"That bastard. He is goin' get it." she stated simply.
I believed her. I trembled inside, trying to ignore this woman, praying that I could let her out soon. Coming into the city was a blessing. I couldn't believe what happened next.
The stop light turned red. The car beside me was same one that cut me off. Before I knew what was happening the woman was out of the car, slamming my car door with such a force that the car shuddered. I think it was just thankful she had gotten out.
The woman walked over to the man in the car and started cursing at him. He laughed at her. He shouldn't have. She walked around the front of the car, and stepped onto the bumper of the car. The light turned green and I placed my foot on the gas, as I dropped her hand bag out the window. I could see her in my rear view mirror as she jumped up on the hood of the man's car. Then she was on his roof. She began bouncing with such repetition you would have thought it was a trampoline. The dent became deeper and deeper. The man just shook his head back and forth.
When she realized that I had driven away I could see her shake her fist in the air. I dreamed of her that night, and woke up in a cold sweat. Sometimes I still dream of that day, with strange imaginings of what the blood was from.
This is a true story. This happened when I was about twenty years old. I was obviously naive. I have driven by this place many times now, and when I think back I can never recall the sign. It states Ôdo not pick up hitch hikers in this area, mentally handicapped patients. Back a ways from the road stands an old run down building with peeling paint and chipped gingerbread. Once I drove up to the building and it was empty. I wondered whom I met that day.
The tiny spark explodes into indifference, not aware of the holocaust it will cause. It cooks the life out of the great forest, being ignorant of what it is igniting. A wildfire beyond control, an inferno of fatalities.
The smoke billows, it surges and it swells like a great whitecap in the ocean. An ebony evil swimming high above the lifeblood below it. It is an impending and menacing force that tattoos the earth with death. The thundering cries of the fire caught animals seep into the darkening vapors.
The acrid stench in the air burns the nostrils. It is the sweet smell of burnt flesh that twists you and drives you mad with sickness. And nothing but nothing stops the destruction but the celestial rain. Until it rains upon the parched earth and quenches the thirst of the dead forest.
It was a cold, lonely, windswept night at Blackwatch Tower. The frigid water pounded against the rock strewn shore. Ethan paced the worn floors. The dilapidated Barometer on the roll top desk foretold of the coming storm. The winds had picked up in the last hour and he could not see beyond the fog covered window. The desolate room within the ancient watch tower held only that which he needed to complete his task.
He watched the girl, wanting her to move. He reached out to stroke her golden hair with the tip of this index finger. The cold smoothness he felt made him think of silk. The paleness of her skin held his attention. He stared transfixed by her unmoving eyes.
Thunder cracked around the watch tower, pealing off the rocks. The echoes of the lonely night felt louder with each boom. The fog lifted as the clouds burst. Whitecaps covered the water as the lightening covered the sky.
Ethan's emotions overwhelmed him as he realized what he had done to his love. Her lifeless form lay in front of him. He wished she had taken back the knife provoking words. His grief became greater as he tried to begin again, but he could not. He could only caress her pale skin once more. His sobs mixed with the rolling thunder as he collapsed upon the desk. He heaved great breathes of air, finally slowing to grip the pen he began to write.
Dearest Darling,
Please forgive me for my painful words. I love you with all of my heart. You are part of my soul when I awake in the morning and you are in my dreams when I sleep at night. I never meant to wound you as I have. The knifing words you said to me last night made me act in haste. I cannot justify my behavior but I sit looking at you now and I wish to be with you. If only you had not asked me to give up the other half of my soul for you. This Watch Tower was always my life before you. I will give it up now to be with you.
Lovingly Yours Forever
Ethan Exegesis
He place the letter in a envelope and sealed it with his personal seal, heating the wax over the candle. Finally he picked up the picture of his true love off of the rolltop desk, pulled on his rain coat and went in search of his true love.
She screamed and screamed as she watched the head, roll off his shoulders and down the stairs. The screams echoed through the great hallway and past the study and on to the kitchens were the help just shook their heads.
They never knew what to expect in the master's house, but they flipped a coin and Herald headed off toward the unending scream.
She was lying at the foot of the stairs now sobbing. The kind of sobbing that only a child can do, sucking in gulps of air at heightening intervals.
Her quandary sat at the top of the stairs, headless. His sightless eyes blindly watching them both from the middle of the stairs.
Herald stepped over the child, and climbed the stairs picking up the remnants. He retraced his steps placing the ketchup soaked teddy bear under one arm and the sobbing child under the other.
"There, there child. Theodore has been decapitated before and he will be again, let us fix him shall we?" he soothed.
'Why? Does it really mean that much to you that you will give up everything?' The thought ran through my mind over and over. I never remember my dreams so vividly, why now? My hands shook as closed my eyes, no. I have to open them but it doesn't matter.
I can see him standing there so perfectly dressed , I could almost smell the odor of him; the fire, the brimstone, the death, the disease.
I shivered. He had come every night for a week now. Asking, begging, promising things I wanted so badly. My mind hazy and clouded with illusions and delusions.
The stone staircase leading down was sharp and twisting, never ending. I trip and fall but I catch myself, blood pours from my leg. I try to stand up and I see nothing to hold on to. No hand rail, no wall, nothingness. I stand alone.
I turn now and there above is the other stair case, solid. It does not twist it does not turn. He asks me the question once more and my mind is clear.
My voice screams "No!" and I wake myself up.
I look around, I lay still for I can still feel God's hand in mine and I know I was never alone.
Tears dripped from her eyes as I walked into the room.
"Mom, what's the matter?"
"I want to go home."
My heart was ripped from me in those five words. I couldn't take her home.
"Mom, you know we had to sell the house, you do remember don't you?" I asked her so quietly, trying not to cry myself.
"Sell the house? But where is... uh ... Gord... Gord... what is his name?" She looked out the window, into the garden beyond her room.
"Mom? You know daddy died a year and a half a go." I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. I cleared my throat, and walked over closer to the bed. The God- awful flowered bed spread, made me think of the mother I once had. The one that held me and told me everything was going to be alright, that she loved me, and that nothing I could ever do would make her stop loving me. I recalled her perfect makeup and her perfect hair even when she went to the grocery store.
"But can I go home?" she asked again, as the tears started again.
"Mom... I ..." a tear rolled down my cheek. I hadn't come prepared for this today. I was in the midst of a divorce, my muffler had went on my car, and my best friend got a raise instead of me.
She took me in her arms and held me, I could smell her unkempt hair, and her stale breath but her arms felt so familiar. I began sobbing, and I could hear her.
"Don't worry honey, everything is going to be alright. I love you."
She knew I had saved her life. A mucusy film dripped from her nose, as her pale hair hugged the side of her bruised and battered face.
I turned and looked at the evening sky. What would I do now? Call the police? The sound of the sand against her bare skin made me turn back to her. She was dragging herself along the wet sand, her broken misshapen leg was leaving a rough trail behind her.
I move to her side once more and bent over her as she rolled to look at me once more. She never saw the rock coming at her but she knew. She knew it was coming. Watching my wife drown was one thing but killing her was yet another.
Anger stabbed her in the back as she entered the room. Their fury at what they believe to be her sin appalled her, but guilt was drowning her. The thickness in the air was stifling. She tried to breath deeply as her heels tapped the hardwood floor. Her breath caught in her chest making her take two short breaths instead. To others it sounded like a quieted sob.
The isle grew narrower as she drew closer. The scents of newly washed hair, fresh clothes and intermixed colognes surrounded her, sickening her. Her breath caught again. Faces turned to the sound of her shoes, but they averted her eyes. Her white knuckles gripped her black handbag. A single tear fell to the floor. She tried to swallow her tears but her mouth was dry. She closed her eyes and swallowed again.
She was assaulted with the odor of death and the carnations piled high around the casket. 'No roses, he hate da roses.' One step led to him. She stumbled. A single hand reached out to catch her, and a hush fell over the room.
"Don't know why he married the likes of you but he always said he loved ya." his father said quietly. "But it shoulda been you that died, shoulda saved himself, ya don't have no family that loves ya."
She turned slowly, handed him an envelope and walked back down between the pews. The brisk turn blew a breeze through her hair, and the smell of the charred remains of her hair overwelmed her. She gripped a pew as she walked by, the sudden quiet of her heels had heads turning towards her. All eyes settled on her, in a fog she moved on.
Her thoughts were hazey as she descended the church steps. It was still there, the guilt at being alive but she smiled. She tenderly touched her belly, and knew her father-in-law was wrong.
"The only thing we can do is share. I am sure we will get there on time. Just take some and pass it on and no talking." he said as he took a deep breath, and passed it on.
The sound from the wheels echoed in their ears as they drove over the dirt road. The rumble of the rocks hitting the metal of the car reverberated in their heads as they plugged their noses. It was that quiet noise of hearing everything muffled that was frightening.
They were so used to singing when they were in the car. With three children, it was the only way they could keep them from getting bored. He couldn't help glancing in the mirror every few seconds to make sure they weren't breathing. Their six tiny eyes never veered from the mirror, they constantly watched him, wanting reassurance.
'Wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round' a parrot in his mind repeated over and over again. He took a single long breath in as his son handed him the face mask, then he handed it to his wife.
"You need more then that Tim." she said after she placed the mask on her face. He shook his head slightly and looked in the mirror at his three children. She understood and handed it over the seat to her daughter.
"Thank -you." her daughter said before she had the mask on, her well taught and well learned manners had killed her.
"Nooo....." he screamed and he knew it was too late for him too.
Everyone started crying and screaming at the same time and then he knew that whatever was in the air and was killing everyone had just killed his family.
He picked up the face mask, threw it out the window, and began singing.
"The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round." and everyone else joined in as he turned the car around to go back home.
*password*
J A C K H A M M E R
Chevi finished typing the password and the screen changed. She was past the first security level. She stubbed out her cigarette butt on the edge of the already full ashtray, lit another one and waited. The room she sat in was sparse but expensively furnished.
*password*
C U D G E L
YOU HAVE ENTERED THE SECOND LEVEL OF SECURITY PLEASE ENTER YOUR SECURITY NUMBER.
6.9.6.9.6.9.6.9
The screen moved up once more. Chevi pumped her fist in the air, spilling cigarettes ashes all over the keyboard. Yes! She was in. Now all she had to do was hack the right files and she was just a wee bit richer. The cursor blinked at her. The leather chair squeaked under her. She could feel the sweat begin to drip between her breasts. With blind instinct she put out the cigarette and lit another one.
After thinking for a few minutes she set up a file system filter which would download only the files which she needed to change, then upload. She setup a few pathnames with soft links within their own system so no matter where they looked they would be sent back to their own system. She unencoded the files and began to download them. With her feet on the oak desk she moved the chair back and forth on the hardwood floor as she continued the ritual of the cigarette. Put one out, light one up.
Backing out of the system was harder then she thought but within minutes she was out. She lay her head back on the leather chair and stretched the big muscles in her neck. The tension slowly drained from her. The unexpected whistle from the overworked fan on the computer had her bolting forward in the chair. She shook her head gently, leaned back, and sighed.
Her gaze drifted across the office, and out the mylar tinted windows of the thirty first floor. The first stars of early evening flickered despite the moonlight. Fresh jet streamers, revealed by the setting sun, began to mingle and disintegrate in the upper deck above the skyline. As soothing as the setting was, the polarized clarity of the view did little to calm her nerves.
She turned back to the workstation. With a few flicks of her fingers she began rearranging the files she had just downloaded. The world of artificial intelligence would not be changing as quick as anyone thought. The new clones that were being created would be digressing back to a somewhat lesser intelligence with in a few weeks time. The subterfuge of a few DNA in a couple of different places was a quick fix for the take over. No one was taking over her company just yet.
I am sitting here staring at the walls again. Just thinking about him. Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it, mostly I think it was. That one moment of heaven where he could take me that no one ever could before and no one ever could again. He was the most amazing creature I have ever had the chance to lay my hands on. My heart is pounding just thinking about the rush that he gave me. Jiffy Lube.
That is where I met him, if you can imagine. Yeah the Jiffy Lube. I used to work there. As you know or don't know I was a service writer. You know one of those glorified secretaries that men ogle when they walk in the door of a grease joint and snort cuz your skirt ain't short enough.
Well as I was sayin this guy came in to get his car lubed. He wanted the works. Man when he walked in I wanted the works if you know what I mean. Holy, holy, holy if only Robin was around I am sure he could have come up with something for that. Anyway he had the nicest.. car. It was one of the 25th Anniversary Addition Cameros, it was white, shiny and hot.
Ya know sometimes people just do crazy things. I watched the baby all the way through the garage. I wanted it so bad. I can't tell you how bad. Well I guess I can since I am in jail now for stealing the damn thing. But when I got it over 150 on the highway I can tell you I was in no kind of heaven I had ever been in before.
So yeah that's where I met him, at the Jiffy Lube.
Kane entered the darkened hallway knowing that no matter how much courage she had she still needed to be frightened. A bare light bulb flashed once from above and she could see the paint cracked walls covered in graffiti. The iron cage of the light left a dark spider web imprinted on her brain, was it her imagination or a play of the light?
The buzz of the exit sign behind her was the only noise in what felt like an unending corridor. The filth covered floors were obscene with excrement. The stench of garbage and the victims of this squalor were nothing new to this detective second class.
The hunter left his prey with a spider web carved into their faces and a tape of their own laughter beside their beds. He always butchered them, leaving the corpse drenched in their own body fluids. He goaded the detectives with puzzles that made little sense until they found the body, riddled with answers. This time Kane figured out the tangled answer first, she hoped.
Above her the light flashed again, she froze. Kane could see the flicker of light in the eyes of this man she hunted. The Spider never blinked as his halcyon vision glimpsed her. He stood within inches of the door where his next victim lay. She assumed he had no place he could elude her. The fact that she was wrong anchored her as he slammed his shoulder into the door, ripping the hinges from their foundation.. Paralyzed by fear, Kane could not move. She stood immobilized for seconds before she overcame her terror.
Those six seconds cost the eighth victim his life. His throat was slit from ear to ear. Kane could see the flicker of light in the eyes of this dead man as she moved past his body, and she compared the dead eyes to the man she just met. Death was the same in both sets of eyes, damnation. And Kane knew the maze of riddles was about to become a labyrinth, as she watched the curtains flutter in the breeze of the Spider's exodus.
"What the fuck do you mean he can't find the body? What the fuck was 'e a fuckin' Phoenix? Rising from the ashes and all that shit! Well if that cytology exepriment doesn't find that body before I do then he is deader then shit." The chief slammed the phone and as he mumbled 'peckerhead' under his breathe.
Chief Best squealed his brakes as he pulled into the mortuary's parking lot. Gore was lucky he was waiting by the door. The chief had called Thomas Goransky , Gore for as long as he could remember.
"What the hell is it this time Gore?"
"I...I...I..."
"Fuck it, never mind, where the hell did you leave his body and just point!"
Thomas pointed toward the back stairs, leading to the basement. Chief Best led the parade and off they went. His police work boots echoed on the cold cement walls. Lying at the bottom of the stairs, on a gurney was the real Phoenix. The killer bird that never seemed to die.
"I thought you said you couldn't find his body.
"He...He..."
"What the fuck is it? For once couldn't you just skip the stuttering grooler shit." The chief said as he turned around.
Gore stood facing the chief with a casual smile on his face, a smile between friends. The chief had never seen Gore smile before.
"I was going to introduce you to my brother." Gore flashed the Chief's own gun at him," Oh and may the best man win." The Chief just looked down at his empty holster, as felt his bladder let go.
it was as soft as the voice of an angel
I could see the sunshine through it
I caressed his delicate crown
his flaxen down mollified me
the minute old child I held
my own wings could not take flight
mornful of what I could not have
the miracle of the womb of Mary
the child of Joesph
my teardrops Christen his brow
I cry of the loss
I shall never find.
"Fine.."
"What did you say to me? Are you givin' me lip?" he asked, as he planted him feet in front of her. "Are you questioning who's the boss here?" His beer gut pressed against her.
"No.." she took a deep breath and tried to backup, the drawer handle jabbed her in the back and she winced. He took this as a dirty look. His slap was fast and furious.
She didn't shudder like usual. She blinked once, and rubbed her hand over the small of her back. It hurt more than her face. Her face was used to being hit.
When no reaction came, he wanted more. His hand went high in the air ready for the contact. It never came.
She brought the knife around in what seemed like slow motion. She cut the tendons under his arm, slicing upwards with the strength of many nights of pain. He screamed in agony. It was the kind of scream he fantasized about hearing from his wife. The animalistic bellow vibrated off the kitchen walls. He sank to his knees on the spotless floor.
"You bitch!"
The knee to his face was an instantaneous reaction. The bones crunched and he fell back on his butt. He looked up and he realized he had just given birth to a storm as she stepped towards him. The tip of the knife gleamed with wet blood when the storm was over.
I could see him right there, standing so close I wanted to be sick. He looked normal just like any other kid. He was just a teenager.
I could see the judge mouth the words but none of them made sense. It was like they were jumbled inside my brain. 'revulsion, senseless attack, two years, acid , help.'
My stomach was sour with disgust. I scratched my chin with my shoulder. My right eyelid fluttered open and closed, open and closed. It was like watching a movie in a timed frame. I hated him.
My chair was pushed away as soon as the judge left the court room. My head flopped to one side as my chair bumped a pew in this holy church of justice, and a tear rolled down my cheek. I was now someone else's chore and I would never be me again but he was still just a teenager.
The filmy cobwebs hung from the ceilings like fairy dust. I could envision Tinkerbell playing here, in flight through the rooms. As a writer I could see gnomes, elves, and nymphs frolicking around under my feet as I wrote. The sunlight that filtered through the ancient glass windows mesmerized me. It wandered like a lost brook on the hardwood floors. I knew the moment I walked in this antiquated relic of a house that this would be my home.
Beyond the walls and within the walls, I could feel the myth and the romance of my visions. The oaken floors would gleam with elegance from my work. The lawn would become a garden and a meadow filled with grace.
All things within the walls were in excess. The ceilings were fifteen feet high with cut glass chandeliers. They shone like fun house mirrors that tumbled their radiance from floors to ceilings. The wallpapers were imprinted with red velvet and embossed with gold. I could see the pale spots where paintings once hung and I thought of authoritative captains and demure women of the past.
The stairs were broad and commanding as you stood at the bottom, but they encased you as you ascended them. The banister held my hand as I went upward, pulling me into it's realm of mystery. And there I remained until they confirmed my ownership of my new kingdom.
With zeal and amore I began to renovate my new domain. I plastered walls, and sanded floors. I replaced lights, and fixtures. I stripped its endings to its beginnings and I restored its soul. But what I found beyond the wallpaper was the most surprising thing.
It was staggering as I began to peel the paper from the wall. Strip by strip I became more entranced by what I saw. It held me on the brink of a precipice and I wondered who has covered this striking sight. Finally I finished and I found the reason.
Beneath this wall of paper was a wall of glass. Beyond that, a wall of sea where through a door you could step and become one with the water and rocks. Nothing stopped you and nothing could if you stepped beyond the door. And I read her alibi.
The winds were whirling through the dark castle tower, louder than they hadever been before. Below the great staircase of the great hall, in the great dungeon, of the great wizard, stood Altea. The wizard of the dark castle had called her Altea, the great. She would smile at this knowing he was the Great Wizard of the Terrrin Tower.
Listerra the wizard of the opposing castle had cast his final Spell on the Terrrin Tower. The castle was to be surrounded in darkness, when the light of day was about and when the night was about the castle would be surrounded by a brilliant white light. Altea was angry with her old friend Davardin her teaching wizard for standing in the way of the spell. Now both great wizards are dead and she must repair the damage caused by the Spell.
Everyone was beyond confused now, people were sleeping days on end. They would wake only to see darkness, and return to sleep. Those that were not sleeping continuously were awake instead. The tower people, including the king and his queen were becoming down right mean. She had to reverse the spell and soon.
She looked around the dungeon, trying to decide if the tail of the fester bird would indeed reverse a spell cast in the light of the day or if she need the eyes of the fester bird. Her mind spun with concoctions that Davardin had told her about. Her eyes welled up with tears as she thought of her teaching Wizard. She missed him deeply. She missed his laughter like when she made a simple mistake like conjuring up a troll for the king's daughters instead of doll.
Altea watched the smoke roll up from the boiling cauldron, its stench filling the air with a reeking odor. The smoke seemed to be tilting and swaying back and forth. It had found a deep crack in the cold stone walls of the dungeon. The smoke was suddenly alive as his curved and twisted itself around the rock showing Altea that there was a space behind the rock. Altea walked over to the stone, touching the stone she could feel the heat of the smoke, or what she imagined to be the heat of the smoke. The stone came loose easily, and behind it was a massive book. The book simply read "Bringing back the dead in one easy step." Altea smiled knowing that Davardin was only a Spell away.
The short stalks billow in the dry wind. It is a beautiful golden yellow. Their death seems elegant somehow. There is no water for the starved wheat.
The dust pools around the buildings drowning the livestock in a gritty powder. We breathe through handkerchiefs, shading our eyes from the grime of the earth. We rarely smile anymore as we wait for the rain. The clouds promise us daily of a storm that never comes.
Standing inside, away from the parching wind you can still taste the dust. The grit on your teeth, and dryness of your lips is obvious as you run your tongue around your mouth. The black soot that comes from the corner of your eyes is a small annoyance in the light of losing everything.
The dust storm weaves it way through the golden fields, bringing the crops closer to their death. We view the fields as being alive, as our lovers, and our friends. We take care of them all year and in the end they take care of us. So when the death of our beloved finally comes we will mourn and like any other death it will take us years to overcome it.
"ssh..." Gail inclinded with her finger.
"anyone tells and I am going to dunk 'em in the water trough" Jack said.
"if you don't shut up they're gonna here us." Pam whispered.
"why is she coming? she's such a baby." Joe mumbled.
"watch it.." Bob said as he held his fist over his little brother's head.
The squish of the hay and manure beneath their feet was the only noise for a few minutes as the seven children travelled through the barn, past the cows, up the stairs, and into the hay mow.
"Weeeee........" Melt screamed as he slid down the hay ramp, landing in a pile of fresh hay and straw.
"Watch meee......" Jack yelled as he jumped from the second floor of the hay loft, landing softly on the broken bales below him.
"Hey chicken aren't you coming up? " Joe asked his younger sister Jeannie " Bocck, Bocck!" All the children chimed in.
"I'm not a chicken, I just never jumped Ôfore." Jeannie said quietly. Slowly she followed her brother up to the second level. Without time to think, her cousin Gail, the bully that she was, ran and pushed her off the edge of the forsaken ridge into the gulley below.
"Aaaahhhhh..........oooff!" Jeannie landed with a thud. "Hey that was fun!" she yelled as she got up to run for more.
"Ya right, I dare you to come up here and jump." Milt challenged from the higher level of the hay mow.
"Ok." Jeannie replied. With her courage in hand she went up and up and up until she could go up no farther.
"Hey I bet you wouldn't go out on the rafters and jump, would ya chicken?" Joe asked.
"Nobody else has..."she replied
"I knew you wouldn't, chicken little."
"Um... Ok.... come with me?" she asked.
"I knew you wouldn't." Joe bullied.
"Yes I will too." with her stomach, in her throat and her backbone stiff she held on to the pigeon poop covered walls and shuffled along the rafter. The cooing of the pigeons warned of her impending doom. Reaching the middle of the rafter she looked down twenty three feet, terrified she looked down.
"I.....can't......Joe...."she whispered.
"See ya baby face!" he yelled as he jumped, leaving her alone on the rafter high above the others.
She closed her eyes and stepped.
"Maybe if we just push it back in no one will notice." Gail said.
"It's not bleeding much." Jeannie lay there sobbing, between her screams.
She sat on the floor with a black line of blood dripping down her face, her chin tucked deep into her chest, her breathing harsh and rasping. Cautiously she persuaded her arms to push her upward. Not a tear dripped from her swollen eyes.
As soon as she stood solidly her daughter ran from beneath the table to stand at her side. Deliberately she lowered herself to the child's level, looking into her deep blue eyes, his eyes. She stroked the child's tender skin, and whispered to her quietly. The child obeyed willingly and ran from the house, swinging an armless doll.
She went to the fridge and took out his last beer, unscrewing the cap so he would not make comment about her laziness. She made a sandwich of the now cold roast beef and took it to him, apologizing for questioning his where abouts. His barely open eyes glanced at her once in disgust, then returned to the rerun of Law and Order. She moved back to the kitchen, and completed her work.
She stood watching him, his breathing thunderous, the smell of his drunken breath almost vibrating around her. Walking to the front door she locked the dead bolt and pulled across the chain. Finally pushing the plush throw rug under the door. Pulling the curtains shut and locking down the house was a nightly chore.
Walking through the kitchen, she pushed the hot grease over, making sure some splattered on her hands. There she stood watching the kiss and curl of disaster as it began to burn. She waited until her face was red from the unbearable heat making its way up the walls then she moved out the back door.
Her head flopped to one side, then rolled forward. He danced over to his so-called workbench and picked up the duct tape. Tugging at the tape he ripped a piece off. Tenderly he lifted her head and placed the strip on her forehead, taping her head upright to the pole.
"I was made for lovin you baby, you were made for lovin me" he began singing once more.
The knock above him offended him. Why can't people just leave him alone, alone, alone?
Leaning down closely to the girl's ear he whispered. "Hush little baby don't say a word." He hated to cover those cherry red lips with duct tape but he did anyway, no accidents this time. Heading up the stairs he finished humming the childish tune.
The girl's eyes blinked open, the hospital room was warm, a fluffy duvet covered her to her chin. She wiggled her toes under the cozy blanket. Sunlight was streaming through the slated blinds warming patches of her face. She smiled.
The hallway door swung inward, the doctor's voice pentrated her soul. As the water hit her face she whimpered, listening once more to "I was made for lovin you baby, you were made for lovin me" as he sang.
The velvet drapes in the hallway fell open, as my grandmother pushed her wheelchair over the thick velvet material that hung on the floor.
"Grandmama, you just ran over the velvet with your chair again." I snickered behind my hand knowing she hated being called Grandmama.
"Don't be impertinent child, they are my drapes and I shall run over them if and when I please. Now what are you children doing in here? OutÉ out," she said pointing towards the red velvet drapes. "You are strong healthy children, outside with you to play."
"Grandmama, it is blizzarding outside, we would freeze. Mother told us to stay inside and practice our lessons," I smirked, as she swung her chair towards the hallway. She had spun her chair around and had the thick material caught up in her wheels before we knew what was happening.
She lay heaped on the floor, with glassed over eyes, tiny tears forming. I could not move, the pity I felt weighted me down, cementing to the floor. I watched as those around ignored her obvious self loathing, lifting her and stroking her with gentle ease. A single tear dripped down my face as I watched her, as she never wished to be seen. Her weakness now my pity. Finally in her chair again, I placed her coverlet over her legs.
"Maybe next time you will watch the velvet curtains." I commented, as shocked breaths came from those around me.
"Don't be impertinent child." She smiled weakly, and grasped my hand tightly, as I enjoyed her fire and she enjoyed impertinence.
