Casual Narrative

Fiction, musings and photography. Maybe even some paintings.


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Jimmy

I curl my toes into the dirt and use the gritty texture to anchor myself, pulling my mind to feel the cool of the ground at my soles and the wind on my face. I hear the sound of his clothing rustle as he shifts uneasily in the doorway.  He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to comfort me in some way, but he knows me well enough to know that his efforts acknowledge my tears and actually make me more uncomfortable. He shifts again, and the weight of his expectation that I do something begins to press on me.

Annoyance flickers through me, I welcome it for the reprieve of my other emotions, but the weight of my grief smothers the flames all too quickly. I give in with a sigh. Pushing the heels of my hands roughly against my eyes, I crush away the tears.  I turn to face him and pretend as though the tears were never there. He doesn’t comment on the red eyes or anything else, he just moves aside to let me back into the house, brushing his arm against mine in the process. I lean into him slightly to acknowledge the great effort this is costing him.

I married a man who likes to talk about his emotions. He faces them head on, expresses them and is ever hopeful that I will be an adult and do the same.  Instead, I curl myself up on the couch and refuse to make eye contact. I know he’s sad too, but he doesn’t feel the way I do. He wasn’t there, and he didn’t make the decision.

~8~

This morning my boy was still happy. So eager to greet me when I walked through the door that for a moment you would be forgiven for realising that it was the end because despite his enthusiasm he couldn’t walk. So thrilled to be close to me he was dragging himself along the floor to be by my side. That was the moment grief started to take hold.

The seed was planted in my heart months ago. My boy was wobbling on his hind legs while he walked and a trip to the vets revealed a degenerative spinal condition. He would feel no pain, but he would be gone within the year. I ignored it. With no cure I did the next best thing, I loved him more. We walked more often, and I fussed him whenever he wished, which for a dog is more often than not, always.

We spent the day my boy and I. Curled on the living room floor together we cuddled, I petted him without a break, fed him his favourite treats and held his water bowl while he quenched his thirst. He leaned into me and covered me in his fur and the smell of dog.

Three o’clock came faster than I wanted, I would have drawn the hours out for longer if I could have but I have no power over time. Dad has come home, and our appointment is at three thirty. He carries my boy to the car, and we sit through the half hour of traffic to get to the vet. I reach my hand behind me for the whole journey and keep my hand buried in the thick fur of his neck. My arm aches but I can’t bear to let him go. When we arrive mam and the vet are waiting for us.  We are rushed through the reception, no lingering to feel the sting of seeing others who have brought their loved ones to this place and will leave feeling better than they arrived.

Dad places my boy on a blanket on the floor and I am instantly by his side, his head in my lap. I haven’t looked at a single person in the room, only my boy. I try and absorb the patterns of his tan and black fur, the sprinkling of grey on his muzzle. I study the exact way his ears flop and give him a broad forehead, the reason he came to me all those years ago, his ears wouldn’t stand up to make him good enough to show. I feel the softness of those floppy ears and press my face to his broad forehead. He licks my hand and I almost want to laugh for a moment as I look into his brown eyes and tearfully call him a slobbery mutt.

The whole time the vet has been talking in a soft voice. I think she is supposed to be soothing but it’s grating. She brings help, my boy is a big dog, and as I hold him steady, they shave a small area of his fur. He whines and licks her hand. I hold him tighter, head tucked to my chest, and tell him what a good boy he is as they place the cannula. She picks up the syringes, two of them, both filled with red liquid. She’s talking still but I don’t try to decipher the words. I can barely breathe as she starts to push the plunger.

My throat is aching and tight. I whisper to him that he is my beautiful boy, he is such a good boy, I love him so much. He grows heavy in my arms and the grief explodes a ragged hole in my heart. I know the instant he has gone, I don’t need the vet to bring her stethoscope and check for a heartbeat I know won’t be there. Mam has her hand on my shoulder, asking me to let my boy go. Dad’s face is tear-stained as he collects my boy from the blanket and we leave to take him home. He will dig a hole in the garden and put my boy there in the soil where his two brothers have gone before him.

~8~

That was hours ago now, I am home again, faced with a loving husband who wishes to make me better but cannot. I killed my dog because I loved him and the world makes no sense to me.


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Only Blue – NYCMidnight FFC 2017 (Round 1)

Three prompts, 1000 words, 48 hours.

Genre: Horror

Location: Dog show

Featured object: Pasta

 

Only Blue

I wake to the rhythmic thudding of an epic hangover. Rasping a thick tongue across chapped lips, I force my groggy eyes to focus. Green carpet and the edge of a grooming table swim into view. I’m in the show ring: the sturdy bench and canine smell are unmistakable. Small dogs with big egos had sat atop tables like this earlier as I cast critical eyes and hands over them to determine who was best. Bichon, Poodle and Papillion in an endless parade of fluffiness.

I do not feel Best in Show. How much wine did I drink?

I’m draped unflatteringly over something on top of the table.

Not my finest hour.

Someone sniffs. It sounds like Nancy, our show secretary. She has a very distinctive sniff; stiff and scratchy like the tweed skirts she wears. We had pasta and wine after the show, apparently too much wine.

Welcome to regret Nancy!

Time to get up.

My brain is suddenly awake.

I can’t move.

I’m bound at the wrists and calves. A metal arch on the table presses against my naked torso, holding me in position on my hands and knees.

I’m naked!

My alertness slips towards panic. I’m defenceless and exposed.

Who did this?

What do they want?

Am I hurt?

Fear pierces me like needles pushing through my skin from the inside. Every atom in my body screams.

Throbbing in my head from the wine, or drug? Pain in my knees from pressing on the hard table. Wrists and legs? The restraints. Nothing else hurts.

I swallow the fear. It settles like a weight in my stomach.

It’s quiet. The people and dogs are gone, and it’s dark except for the lights in the ring. To my left are two more tables like mine. On the nearest is Gerry. Hours earlier I had pinned a blue Best in Show ribbon on his well-pressed shirt. Now he lies next to me, slumped like a flabby and wrinkled baby. Beyond him is Nancy, bereft of tweed.

“Heaaaaahg.” I try to speak but pain bites at my jaw and the sound becomes a useless gargle.

“No, no, no,” admonishes a sing-song voice.

Cynthia?

She steps into view. A platinum blonde perm and a cloud of pink chiffon. Phoebe, her beloved Pekingese, glares at me from her arms. “Whatthefuarrrgghhhhhh!” My brain feels like it will burst into flame.

What is happening?

“Shock collar dearest. Noisy puppies get punished.” Each word punctuated by a manicured nail tapping my nose.

“Right Snuffikins, time to start the show.” The sound of her voice skitters across my skin like cockroaches. She nuzzles Phoebe, allowing the dog’s tiny pink tongue to lick her lips before placing her on the ground. “Lets begin.” Cynthia taps her clipboard. “Eyes? Bright.” Bony fingers grasp my chin. “Strong jaw and nose.” She pinches my ears. “Acceptable.”

She has my judging sheet.

She moves out of sight. My body tenses, pulling inwards trying to avoid her hands on any part of my nakedness. With firm presses from the heel of her hands and a brisk raking of nails, she feels my body anyway. My mouth fills with bile but I can’t scream for fear of the collar.

God, make her stop touching me!

It is silent save for the scratch of pen on paper, Cynthia’s murmured comments and Nancy’s plaintive sniffling. I almost choke to death on my humiliation.

Hands grope my breasts and squeeze my ribs. They pinch the flabbiness of my belly and then my thighs. I struggle but can’t move. There is no escaping her probing fingers as they lightly spread my buttocks. “Pleaseeeeeeggggh.” I start to weep.

Phoebe dances below my table, tongue lolling with joy. I realise that this is all about her losing the blue ribbon to Black Diamond, Gerry’s glorious poodle. I glare at her scrunched little face with hatred. She doesn’t care.

Then the hands are gone and Phoebe is trotting away. I watch Cynthia with her pink ruffles and botox-pout inspect Gerry in the same horrendous way. His eyes remain fixed on a black bundle below his table. Cynthia moves on to Nancy, but now I’m fixated on the bundle too. It shouldn’t matter in the circumstances, but for some sinister reason, it does. I need to know.

What is it?

I finally make out a dainty foot and a curled coat. The body is so broken and mangled I barely recognise it as a dog. Diamond!

“The judging is over!” declares Cynthia. “Third place!” She slaps the yellow ribbon against Gerry’s cheek. The pin pierces him, but he doesn’t move except for the rise and fall of his chest. He isn’t dead, simply indescribably broken. “Can’t win them all.”

Cynthia’s eyes dart between Nancy and me. She plays to the empty room. “Second place!” She skips towards Nancy who tries to shrink away. “You know what they say, red ribbon for the first loser.” Her lip curls as her eyes dart to me, “Isn’t that right dear?” Mania pours from her in waves now, and Phoebe is yapping excitedly. The ribbon draws blood as the pin forces its way into Nancy’s flesh. She can’t help but scream and electricity is her reward.

Cynthia moves toward me, brandishing the coveted blue ribbon. “Best in Show,” her eyes blaze with a fiery hatred.

“You’re going to make this right.” She speaks in a rush, face so close to mine I can see her lipstick stained teeth, “You’re the best, my Phoebe, she deserves the best.” Pain burns through my hand. I scream and lightning claws at my jaw. I watch as Phoebe triumphantly snatches my severed finger from the floor and grunts merrily through each sickening crunch.

“Snuffikins needs more protein in her diet,” Cynthia coos as she begins to wheel my table towards the darkness.


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The Heart of Pluto

It was snowing the first time we met there. Not a wild flurry of white, but a lazy drift of flakes that gave a gentle kiss of cold when caught. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that it was snowing, the heart-shaped crater of Pluto was always filled with snow, but not snow like you know. Snow on Pluto is special. Scientists say its nitrogen and methane but it’s not. They only think that because they’ve never been.  Snow on Pluto is its own thing. Cold in the sky and warm as a bed of feathers on the ground.

That’s where we sat, my best friend and I. Lounging against a pillow of Pluto snow with moons, planets and stars shining above us in the glorious silence and a gentle flurry of snow, just like the first time.

“Look,” he said, arm raised to point at the left side of Charon. I followed his gaze and watched the plumes of ice spilling down the sides of the moon volcano like an unfurling flower. The heart of Pluto was the best place to watch ice volcanoes on the moon erupting, we did it often and tonight, Charon looked so close that we might almost be able to touch it.

“You know, Charon isn’t my favourite moon,” I said. He looked at me the way he always did when I announced these random facts, with mild interest. I did it often. He started conversations with thoughtful questions and a will to learn the world better, all the worlds. I blurted out whatever nonsense burst into my head at that moment. As the older of us, surely I was supposed to be sensible and worldly, but I wasn’t. He was waiting, eyebrow raised, asking me to finish my thought without words. “I mean all of our moons are special,” I let my eyes pick out Pluto’s satellites one at a time. Tiny little Styx, the baby moon. Kerberos, the moody moon who likes to hide in the dark and Hydra with her strange and bumpy surface, “but I like Nix best.”

“I knew it!” he declared and I couldn’t help but laugh. He dramatically flopped back into the snow bank and sent a cloud of Pluto snow billowing into my face. “How can you love Nix over beautiful and majestic Charon? Nix, the space potato!”.

I sputtered as I was covered in tiny chills until the flakes warmed and fell away. I took my revenge by dumping a flurry on his bare arms, much to his dismay. “Quit calling my beautiful moon a space potato!”

“Are you saying she isn’t a space potato?” He waved his arms at Charon, the eerie glow of starlight shining across the icy crust of her surface as though she was lit from within, like a diamond made with a core of fire. Volcanoes of ice erupting on her surface and swirls of crystalline air that could be seen with the naked eye. She was breath-taking. There was no denying it.

Then he pointed to Nix. Eyebrow raised again. I swore he used it just for me when I was being dense. Nix with her dusty red looking colour and distinctly potato-like shape that made her wobble and jitter through space, unable to find an axis on which to spin. Like me, she was dancing to an entirely different tune to the rest of the universe. A little weird and out of place but comfortable in her strangeness. Yep, that was definitely my moon. “Fine, I admit, she is entirely a space potato, but she is my space potato. She’s a dancing moon. You can have the big flashy diamond of a moon and I’ll keep my weird little space potato.”

“You think I like Charon because she’s pretty?” He looked a little offended, hurt even.

“She is very beautiful. You can’t deny that.”

“She is, but that’s not what makes her special.” He looked at our beautiful moon and smiled. “Do you know that she is the only moon in our universe that doesn’t spin? She stays facing Pluto all the time.” He slipped his arm through mine and gestured with his other hand to the glittering sky. “Like in the whole of the universe these two beautiful bodies have found each other in the darkness of space and suddenly can never bear to be parted again. So they spin through space together, like dancers. Never able to turn their faces away from one another. I think Charon is the best moon because she fell in love with our Pluto and our Pluto fell in love with her. I think that’s why Pluto has this heart that always faces Charon. Because Charon has her heart.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. In all the time we’d known each other my friend had shown time and again that he never took the obvious beauty. He sat quietly and then without warning showed you the softer beauty that was the very soul of a thing. It’s why Pluto suited him so well. Here he was safe from a messy and loud world that often took too much and gave back too little. She was a haven made just for two. A world where the sun, normally blinding on earth, was a distant glimmer in a sea of other distant glimmers and the infinite possibilities of all the other stars had a chance to shine.

But it’s temporary. One day we would be able to live on Pluto, but for now, we visited in brief moments when the quiet was needed by us both. In a few minutes, we would both close our eyes and when we opened them again we’d be back in a busy office or on a crowded street and only seconds will have passed. The world will once again be loud and full of people who are all too close and too coarse.

But Pluto and Charon would be out there, waiting. Dancing through the stars with their quirky little friends, one of whom jigged quietly in a most peculiar way and basked in the warmth of the love from a small snowy planet and her diamond moon.


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Waiting… 

This one is a personal post. I didn’t intend to be writing it, but I feel full of thoughts and lacking in who I should express them to. 

I’m in the hospital, waiting. I’ve been waiting since last June when they diagnosed me with a brain tumour. Not all of the waiting has been done here, but pretty much every day since the doctor first told me my scan revealed something, I’ve been waiting. For a solution, a way forward, anything.

I’ve had scans, appointments and consultations. I’ve had disappointments,  misdiagnosis, poor excuses and what feels like endless mistakes. I’ve told myself not to pin my hopes on this appointment. That they might not give me the answers I want or even any answer at all. They’re so good at that last one. I thought I had convinced myself… But here I am. Hope is clinging to me like the tenacious roots of a weed in shallow soil and I feel sick.  Filled with dread and longing in equal measure. 

I’ve tried to be positive. I named the first tumour. Alfie Clementine. It’s cute. It makes him less frightening and more of a loveable and yet painful inconvenience. Then his sister showed up, Norma, and its feeling too crowded up in here. I want to evict them. They’re like the house guests who show up and then just slob around your house without thought or contribution. Useless balls of tissue and snot. 

They’ve called my name… 


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Sword of Honour

Next round of the NYCMidnight Flash Fiction Challenge. Prompts this time round were Genre: Action and Adventure / location: shooting range / Object: Full-length mirror .

Synopsis: An orphaned daughter uses the sword of her father to seek revenge.

 

The candles flickered, their reflections danced on the steel of her blade setting it alight. The breeze caressed her skin and stirred her long dark hair, she closed her eyes and cleared her mind. Her father had taught her to fight with this sword, just as his father taught him. He told the story of how his Sofu had come to America with only the sword and his recipes.

 

Now the bakery and its recipes were gone, and the sword would be the tool of her revenge. Pushing back the sadness that clawed at her heart she stood and blew out the candles. There would be time to mourn later.

 

~*~

 

Knowing that the sword at her back would never make it through the front door unnoticed she climbed the fire escape and entered through a second-floor window. The building had once been a shooting range. When the Yakuza moved into the neighbourhood last year, they turned it into an exclusive club; shot-up silhouettes left to decorate the walls like sinister bunting. The false ceiling had been removed, leaving the gangway on which she now walked hidden by lights and air-conditioning pipes. The gun check was now a bar where a full-length mirror adorned the wall, fronted by expensive bottles of sake lined up like soldiers. Below her, a throng of bodies danced to pulsing music.

 

In the corner, a plush booth sat like a throne from where Billy Yen reigned over his little kingdom. Publicly a fine upstanding businessman and citizen, privately a crime lord and to an unlucky few, a murderer. Handsome and confident he lounged against the crushed velvet, two beautiful women draped on either side like fur coats, laughing at a private joke. She crouched on the gangway and scanned the crowds, picking out five bodyguards. Angry looking men, all conspicuous amongst the revellers, the bulge of automatic weapons showing under their suit jackets. Marking the place of each opponent, she inhaled the smell of sweat and alcohol and stepped off the platform.

 

The crowd gasped and parted as she landed with cat-like grace, knees bent to absorb the impact and one palm to the floor to steady her. Straightening, she met their awe with a glare and drew her blade. They stopped staring and began to run. She headed for Billy Yen.

 

The world around her slowed as instinct and training took over, time experienced in movement and sound. Large hands grasped at her through the screaming crowd as the first member of Billy’s goon squad lunged for her like a fool. Her sword swung high then arced down, severing both his hands. The music stopped and his roar of pain rushed to fill the void, followed by the percussion of gunfire. She pushed on through the thinning crowd.

 

Darting to avoid the second gunman, her petite form nimble and graceful in contrast to his brutish fumbling. A practised slice from navel to nose put him down. She spun like a dancer, sword glittering in the multi-coloured lights before arterial spray from the throat of number three coated her face like war paint. She let her momentum carry her forward to meet number four with a rapier thrust to the gut. Blood flowed across the polished floorboards and she knew he wouldn’t live.

 

Pain seared through her as a bullet tore the cartilage of her right ear, stumbling as a second hit her shoulder. Gritting her teeth she ran at the shooter, weaving to avoid a further hit and finally, ducking beneath his gun hand. She dropped into a slide and kicked him hard in the right knee with both feet. The crunch of bone filled the air as he fell and his gunfire ceased. She shivered with delight and repulsion, rising to pierce his heart with her sword. All five bodyguards were down.

 

Solitary applause echoed in the deserted room as time resumed its normal pace. Billy Yen sat much as he had before, unfazed by the drama. The two women were no longer laughing. Pain radiated through her body, but she stood steady and poised. She looked to the women and offered two words; “Get. Out.” Billy didn’t blink, arrogance blinding him to his imminent death. The women fled.

 

His voice flowed through the silence, soft and lilting, untouched by the gore that surrounded them. “Impressive, perhaps you should work for me rather than…” He gestured to his fallen men, eyes lingering over the one still alive who whimpered as he tried to pick up his hands.

 

“I’d rather eat pig vomit.”

Billy glowered, patience lost. “What do you want, girl?”

She rolled her eyes, arm sweeping to gesture to the carnage. “Surely you’ve caught on?”

He leaned back, unconcerned. “Yes, yes. For my life. What do you want in return for my life?”

“You think you can buy me?” She swallowed the rage that rose within her.

He remained calm. “Everyone wants something,”

“Hayashi Kafu.” The name tumbled from her lips, yet no flicker of recognition showed in Billy’s eyes. Hatred knotted in her stomach. “You don’t even know his name?”

“Understand girl, I am a busy man, and I deal with many people.” His tone was nonchalant.

“He was my father!” She yelled. “Your petty thugs beat him for ‘protection money’, all five of them. Then you murdered him.” A tear betrayed her shattered heart. She dashed it away. “You beheaded him!”

“You seem confused.” His tone mocked her “I’m a businessman. I…”

 

Her father’s katana sang one final time. The look of surprise on Billy Yen’s face would have been comical, but for the macabre fact that it now looked up at her from the table while his body still lounged in its seat.

 

Turning, she paused to wipe the blood from her sword and scoop up the severed hands. She caught sight of herself in the mirror she bowed to her reflection, honour restored.

 


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Tattoo

This is another old one from days of Fictions Friday’s past. The featured image was the prompt for this tale.

 

It paid a girl like me to be unique. The whispering in dark corners didn’t bother me anymore, or even the calls of ‘freak’ that reached my ears. You see, in my line of work, men would pay good money to have their curiosity sated and then their desire. Fifty bucks just to look at the freak? Extra for a hands-on experience? I can’t complain.

Over slick pavements and potholes, the men travelled. I never knew how far they came, but they did come. They crowded in close to the other girls, glancing at their wares, but never intending to buy. They came for something “specific”, and they all asked for me by that name. A mumbled request in an alleyway to one of my co-workers and the resentful call for ‘Tattoo’ would drift to me through the district, carried on the steam vents and the muggy air. I’d hear my moniker minutes before the punters reached my door. Word travels quicker than a nervous John.

That’s how this one had come to me. A grudging series of whispers by my door. “A mouse for the freak,” “Tattoo…” and then, a timid knock. I lived uptown but kept a two-room space behind this rusted, red door. It was minimalist, to say the least, but it gave privacy and meant there was no need for awkward, backseat fumbling or dumpster humps. A faux leather chair sat across from an unmade bed and a small chest of drawers holding all the equipment a girl could need. To the side, another door leading to a tiny washroom.

The John sat there in my chair, fingers crushing the cracked and flaking armrests. He licked his chapped lips and shifted uncomfortably as his growing erection pressed against the material of his cheap suit. I stood and faced him, letting my robe fall to the ground with a dainty flutter. He came to fuck the freak and here I was, naked and demure.

I have a beautiful body; no man or woman could ever tell you different. A flat stomach and small waist accentuated my luscious curving hips that led down to legs so shapely they made other girls stare with envy and desire in their eyes. This John, like so many of the others, didn’t even bother to run his eyes over me, fixated they were on that one teasing hint. A flickering tongue of flame which snaked its way under my arm and curled itself around my left breast like the hand of a lover. Those black inked lines held him captive.

In a voice husky with need and fear, he commanded me to turn my back to him and ever the compliant whore I obeyed. Arms high over my head I held myself for his study, never quite sure as always if that gasp I heard from his lips came from horror desire. One thing for sure, there was always a hint of surprise. They heard the stories, and they came to gawk, but they didn’t believe until they saw with their own eyes.

Demons and devils leered from my flesh, writhing in flames that licked and scorched at my milk-pale skin. Black eyes, damning anyone who ever dared to stare. It didn’t matter. They all stared anyway. Swelled for me, wanted me. The freak that I am.

I heard him stand. The rustles of fabric as trousers were abandoned. His eyes bored into my spine. The serpent twisted about my arm luring him to temptation just as surely as it had Eve in the days of the Bible. Clammy hands cupping my breasts even as his mouth pressed wet and hungry against my skin. His disgusting little tongue traced the lines of the fire that marked me. Caressing my demons and tasting my devils as his erection swelled even harder against me. My mind drifted away from him to the first of his type.

It was the middle of a trick. He was just an average Joe. A little weird, but weren’t they all? The nervous, clammy type who had a wife and 2.4 kids stashed away somewhere, yet here he was trawling the gutters for a cheap piece of flesh. He came in a cheap suit with a briefcase. Out of town or just not ready to go home to his pretty little suburb?

He had me turned from him, mouth and hands caressing the creamy skin of my back. He was a talker. He told me I was perfect. He called me his white rose. I rolled my eyes because I knew he couldn’t see and whispered back all of the niceties his kind liked to hear. When his hands stopped their ceaseless caressing, I almost sighed with relief, enough talk and let’s get this thing done.

The sound of hands fumbling in pockets. I turned to offer him some help with the condom, but his hand on my shoulder kept me from facing him, and he asked me not to look. Oh great, he was shy. Just what I needed, we might be here all night.

His arm was snaking around my waist, thank God. Finally, he’s ready. His breath felt hot as he pressed his mouth to my ear.

‘I’ll make you beautiful.’ He whispered

The sharp pain as the needle pricked my neck. I tried to struggle. Blackness seeped in at the edge of my vision. Oh God, I couldn’t go out like this. You hear stories of men who murder whores, but not me. Not like this. I tried to hang on but I was falling, and there was nothing to stop me. The distant feeling of landing, face-down, on the bed and the sound of buckles on his briefcase unfastening. I melted away.

I woke hours later in the same bed, A brief moment of relief until I tried to move my arms and legs. I wasn’t bound but pain flooded through me, a thousand knives stabbing at my body. I crawled to the edge of the bed before vomiting on the carpet. It didn’t help at all. 

Eyes finally raising, I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. Face pale, my hair limp and knotted, blood and ink still oozing from my shoulders. I slid from the bed and crawled to the mirror. It was agony, but I had to see. I saw the bed, stained red with my blood and black with ink. Oh God, Oh God. I twisted to look, and the demons stared back at me.

Creamy white skin now a living tribute to a madman. I was his walking canvas.

Pulling back to the here and now I slid the gun from between the rumpled sheets and turned on the John. This time, he exhaled in horror, not desire. That big, black, eye of destiny stared him down, the barrel never blinking. Erection pathetically flaccid, he emptied his bladder down his leg.

Two hands on the gun, ‘Any last words?’

‘Please…’ he muttered. Funny, I have heard that so many times.

I shot him in the head. I shot him like I shot all the ones like him. The men who reminded me of Him.

 


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Welcome to Tristram Mall

I wrote this one at a friend’s request. He asked me for vampires, a shopping mall and a love interest. I suspect he wanted something a little more romantic. Instead, he got savage beasts and noxious bodily fluids. Sometimes the story goes where it goes.

 

 
The shopping centre sat quietly in the gathering dusk. It wasn’t too big, boutique stores by the look of it, but it was big enough to provide shelter and some supplies. The only real issue was how many bloodsuckers would be inside? I weighed the options. Risk hideous death for a roof over our heads and a chance to stock up or risk hideous death in the open with dwindling provisions? It was getting darker and the first shrieks of the night were raising the hairs on my arms. I never got used to hearing them. Almost a year on and they still seem so alien. My stomach clenches with each sharp wail.

I mused on the housing estate a few miles away but there would be difficulty getting to it. We wouldn’t make it until after dark and housing estates were usually overrun, being naturally full of people. There was a factory unit nearby but factories never offer much in the way of safety. I spotted the banner, “Tristram Mall… for all your needs”. The choice was made, this shelter would have to do.

Grudgingly I wave the others forward and we head for the beckoning doors of the blue quadrant. The sky faded around us and the shrieks of the dead spurred us on.

Once inside we closed the doors behind us and locked or barred all but the left most exit. One of the rules, always leave the left most door open to stop confusion in a frenzied escape. There had been more than a few of those. A sharp nudge to my side and I turned my head. “We need to sweep Luca, how do you want it?” I glared at Charlie using my baby name. She gave a shrug and grinned “Sorry,” a mock salute “Captain Lucas.” I would never admit it out loud, but I find it endearing.

I swept my eyes over her and took in the details. Her soft dark hair swept back in a ponytail, a katana sword on her back and a metal baton already in her hand. I know her well enough to know there would be more than one weapon stashed on her, but my glance gave me no clue where. My pint-sized, urban commando. She was frowning at me, waiting for my orders.

“We’ve got four malls all on one level maybe 80 to 100 stores max, let’s do a clean sweep on them all. Charlie, Nick and I can take the stores on this mall together.” I glanced at Charlie and Nick, confirming they would follow the plan. “Casey and Jo can stick to the centre of the corridor checking for movement. Then I want Charlie in the yellow, Nick you take red and I’ll go green.” I pointed to the sign further down the mall which showed the directions of each coloured section” Casey, you and Jo stay central in the pavilion and watch all four corridors while we sweep ok? No loading up until we’re clear. Plenty of time for provisions later you got it?” I shot a look to Nick. He was prone to stashing items like a magpie before even knowing that we were safe. He flashed a dazzling smile and gave a firm nod that sent his brown hair flopping over his eyes. “No problem boss.”

The two sisters, Casey and Jo, both nodded in their quiet way. Confirmations received from all, I branched off to the left with Charlie already a step in front of me. Nick took the right which had fewer stores. We’d done this so many times I could have given no instructions and it would run like clockwork. The familiarity of the orders, of someone taking command, seemed to suit the others so I obliged.
The mall was in good condition. No water staining the tiled floors just yet. The stores had been looted at some point during the riots and other shit that followed the end of the world. People were crazy back then. They stole money and jewellery or even more insane, televisions. As though even when the beasts came out of the dark for us all we would be sitting there watching an episode of Friends. I can see the Jeremy Kyle episode now, My vampire husband ate our children.
Charlie always told me, idiots deserve to get eaten. She could be a little uncharitable, but that didn’t mean I disagreed with her. Right now, keeping her voice low, she was chattering between stores. “You know; why couldn’t we have movie vampires?” I raised an eyebrow at her. Maybe she was thinking about those TV looters too? I didn’t reply and instead stepped into the broken window display for a perfume store. The counter was empty and the door leading to the staff area was locked from the outside with the key still in. Black gunge crusted under the tight opening where floor and door did not quite meet. I ducked back out. Whatever was behind the door could stay there. I wasn’t dying for a chance at a few lunchroom packets of crisps and maybe a bottle of water.

When I exited, Charlie glanced my way, waiting for my response to her earlier mutterings. I relented, “What are you going on about?”

She stepped into a jewellers next door, did a brief sweep behind the counter and stepped back out. “Where are all those Eurotrash accented bastards? The ones who want to seduce people and make vampy brides? In the movies people die and stuff, but come on, how hard would it be to take those guys out?” I ducked into the next store, careful not to step on the glass or make too much noise. Nothing lurking, I headed straight back out where she was still talking in her low throated purr. “I’d especially take those sparkly, retarded control freaks from that teeny book. Either kind would do.” I stifled a laugh and let her continue. “There they’ll be, waxing lyrical about their poor tortured souls. Trying to convince me that we’re destined to be together forever.” She struck a dramatic pose and said that last in what I assumed was her Dracula voice. “Bam! I’d stab that douche in the chest and lop his head off.”

I sniggered, I couldn’t help it. She looked so serious as she said it all, and I could tell she meant it. Poor R-Patz would not have fared well with his whole lions and lamb’s speech. My Charlie was not a fan of the fang. Her strange musings had helped the search along. We were at the end of the mall before I knew it and no nasties so far. With a fist bump, we split into our sections without a sound. I watched Charlie slink down the corridor. Her feet placed amid the debris in such a way that she made hardly a sound as she ducked into the next store. I turned and saw that Nick was already gone too.

Weaving in and out of stores and marking items in my head for later I mused on our rag-tag bunch.

Charlie had been there from the start. She was never the typical girl next door, but we had grown up together. She was a strange mix of ruthless practicality, sardonic humour, and childlike joy. When the world ended and everyone we knew had become monsters, there is no one else I wanted at my side more. I wasn’t sure I would have made it alone. She had called me Luca from first learning to talk and it never went away, even though she was supposed to be an adult now. I called her Charlie. Now that her parents and mine were gone, there was no one left to call her by her proper name, Charlotte.
We had picked up the sisters, Casey and Jo, about two months after we left our hometown. Coming across them only hours after their parents had died. We were about a half mile away, ensconced in a rotting treehouse. We heard the screeching of the vampires when they came upon the family hiding in the back of an 18 wheeler lorry. We had no idea where they were and there was little we could have done to save them. Their parents had hauled Casey and Jo up to the roof. Vamps tore into their father before he made it up there with them. Their mom lost her footing as she tried to fend off the rest, to prevent them from tipping the trailer. They were less than an hour from dawn when it happened. Less than 60 minutes to salvation.

I suspect the short time before dawn was the only reason Casey and Jo had been able to survive. By the time the food on the ground was gone the vamps had to take cover. Too late for mom and dad, Casey and Jo had listened to the sound of the beasts eating their parents. It didn’t matter if both the girls survived, they would never be the same.

We’d come along a short while later, rested well from hiding in the tree. We’d learned early that vampires cannot climb well, but they can jump. Give them no hint that you’re up there and high seems a safe bet for a good night’s rest. Of course, decent tree houses were hard to come by.

It had taken a while to coax the traumatised girls from the roof of the truck. Charlie had almost demanded we leave them. She had a point, once we got them down would we be able to get them moving and undercover before the next dark? I was willing to take the chance and it had paid off in the long run. The first few days the girls said little, mumbling their names, yes and no but not much else. They ran and they ate some rations but that was it. That they kept up was enough for Charlie. More gentle coaxing in the days that followed and Casey started to come back to us. Ever conscious of her younger sister, she took charge. They weren’t fighters, Jo wasn’t even allowed near the weapons or Casey pitched a fit, but they made themselves useful in other ways. Cooking, packing the provisions and dividing up the water. Jo followed directions and stuck close to her sister. Even after all these months, she hadn’t really come back to herself.

Nick had come last, only a few months ago but somehow it all felt like a lifetime these days. His group had been outside at night when vamps found them. In the confusion of running and screaming, Nick had gotten separated. He had been alone for a few weeks when we came across him. Whenever we trekked he always seemed to keep an eye out for his other group. I didn’t have the heart to say that they were likely all obliterated. I figured he knew. We all knew what happened in the dark.

Charlie was happy to have another fighter. Nick was tall and muscular with an easy smile. A tiny part of me wondered if his good looks also had something to do with her acceptance but I never pressed it. For me, I was grateful for the calm and cheerful attitude he brought to us. I found it hard to comprehend how anyone could still wake with a smile after all that had happened but that was Nick. His charm and confidence told me there would have been no lack of girls back home for him but he was here instead. No home to go to anymore, for any of us, but with Nick and the girls, me and Charlie, we made a funny kind of family.

I glanced back at the girls, sitting silent and watchful in the centre pavilion. Their features were indistinct but I could pick them apart easy enough. Casey was a full head taller than Jo. They each turned their heads every few moments to check all four corridors. I know they did their best every day and I couldn’t help but be proud of them for that.

Store after store on one side was checked and secured. The light through the glass ceiling had faded even more and the battery operated store signs started to flicker on. I felt a tremble of hope. This dark and the vamps ought to be wandering inside by now. Perhaps we would have a night of peace?

A shriek rent the air that shattered my momentary comfort and set every hair on my body on end. I took off towards the pavilion. No need for silence now, I let my combat boots ring heavy thuds against the tiled floor. I could see Jo where we had left her, hands to her mouth and shaking . I skidded to a halt in front of her and pulled her face towards me. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears but unfocused. There was no sign of her sister and my stomach plummeted towards my feet.

“Where’s Casey?” I could hear a hint of my own frantic feeling in the edge of my voice. I scanned the corridors but saw no sign of her. I spotted Charlie running towards us from the yellow mall, no Nick or vampire in sight. “Jo, answer me, where is Casey? Did you see Nick?” I was shaking her, but couldn’t seem to help myself. It worked. She raised a quivering arm in the direction I had sent Nick. I glanced up and saw Charlie swerve and head down the mall, barrelling at speed with baton drawn. “Jo,” she wasn’t looking at me again, a shivering mass of jelly in my arms. I shook her, hard this time, and snapped her back to the now, “Jo! We need to go after your sister and Nick. I want you behind me one step, all the way ok?” I tried to instil calm and authority back into my voice. “I can’t leave you out here alone when there are vampires in here. Do you hear me?” She nodded and that was good enough. I turned and followed Charlie.

The mall was darker the further along we ran. This section older and the windows smaller. I could see Charlie up ahead, but only just. Her dark clothes making her an indistinct but moving blob. She had slowed and so I slowed a touch too, straining to hear but needing to reach her. I turned to check on Jo. She was right behind me, terrified but keeping pace. Taking my hunting knife from my belt I reached back and pressed it into her hand with a reassuring squeeze. She stared at me with wide eyes but curled her fingers around the handle with a nod. I know Casey didn’t like her to handle weapons, but Casey wasn’t here.

I shrugged the bow from my shoulder and strung an arrow loosely as we reached Charlie. She was crouched with her back to the wall, eyes intent on the broken window of a clothing store. She held up two fingers and pointed at the store. Two vamps, fuck! My eyes adjusted to the muted glow of the emergency signs in the store and I hear them. Grunts, yips, the click of gnashing teeth and the tearing of fabric. My eyes find them in the dimness. The one at the back hurls a full rack of clothing at the window. The other lets out a bloodcurdling screech that I feel right in the roots of my teeth and the marrow in my bones. I hate that sound.

I pull the bow tighter and begin to take aim when I see them. Two frightened eyes, wide and streaming with tears in a pale face. A hand over her mouth, Nick has Casey and they are just inches from the shrieking vampire. Crouched between a shoe display and a clothing rack.
I hesitated. If I release the arrow the second vampire will come for us. If I don’t, the first will find Nick and Casey in a matter of moments. I was sure it could already smell them. Nick caught my eye and gave a stern nod. I steadied my aim, fingers grazing against my lip, and exhaled. Just as I slip my fingers from the string a duet of ear-splitting screeches fills the air. They come from our left and I ignore them completely, relying on Charlie to let me know when they’re coming. Eyes on the target I watch the arrow explode through the vampire’s skull and know he’s down.

I feel Charlie at my side, her sword now drawn and ready. She is a coil of pure tension wound and focused on our new threat. Nick and Casey explode from their hiding place and Nick spins, stabbing the second store vamp in the face. His machete catches a moment before he drags the blade out through the side of its jaw. The creature screeches and reels backwards into the store, presumably to die. Nick shoves Casey to his back. She facing us and he facing the store in case the vamp comes back.

“Luca…” Charlie’s voice is tight and focused. It demands that I turn from Nick and assess the other problem. There are not two but five vampires loping towards us, three adults and two children. My heart sinks. Children are the most terrifying. They’re savage and sickening beasts. I’m the only one with a distance weapon and I take aim. “We need to retreat now. Left door people!” Jo makes a small whimper from behind and I know before I hear the yipping that there are more behind us. “How many Jo?”
“Two” She squeaks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” We’re pinned and I know it. Pushing from the wall I decide for the vamps to our rear, the exit, and take aim. “We need to take them down. Do not let these fuckers bite or scratch you, got it?”

“Got it.” they sound and we move. It’s full dark now and I have no idea if more might arrive. If they do, we’re finished.

I let go of three arrows in quick succession and catch one vamp in the legs, putting him down but not out. The other dodges and takes a scuff to the arm but no real damage. His eyes flare at me as he bellows his disapproval but he skids to a halt and paces back and forth while he considers. Nick has one arm stretched behind him to encircle Casey by the waist. He keeps her pressed to him as the first child vampire reaches them. He hacks at it with the machete and I’m sure he can handle it.

Jo remains crouched by the wall, pressing herself to the brickwork with the knife held in front. Her eyes dart everywhere but she is upright and ready. It’s the best I can hope for right now. I position myself to protect but not hinder her. I don’t want her to have to fight unless necessary. Charlie glances Jo’s way and I see her give a slight nod of approval. I catch the glimmer in her eyes as she spins and charges towards the oncoming vampires. She never was one to wait for an invitation to fight. At the last second, she drops to a roll and comes up to the side of the first vamp. Sword swinging out in a graceful arc, she cuts it off at the knees before twisting and stabbing it through the head. She is a dancer in motion.

I aim and let first one then a second arrow fly. They whistle past Charlie and take down her next target, giving her time to rise to her feet. She throws me a grin over her shoulder. It’s tribal, savage and beautiful. My heart pounds in my chest and I’m not sure if it’s the adrenalin of the fight or the smile. It only lasts a second before she turns and begins slashing at the second child vampire. Nick has put down the first beast and now has its angry mommy to deal with.

I check back for my stalking vamp to find he, for it was definitely once a man, has been edging towards us, as has his wounded buddy. I reach for an arrow and find only two left. I fire the first off and catch him in the shoulder. He staggers back, crouches and hisses in my direction. The sound is low and menacing, apparently I’m pissing him off. He charges me and I grab for the last arrow, shoot… and miss. With claws raised and fangs that drip foul-smelling goo, he is on me.
I slip my arm through the bow and pull out my baton, wedging it in his jaw. He snarls and claws in my direction but I hold him at arm’s length, dodging the swipes. I tilt the baton, trying in vain to break off his fangs. The disgusting black spittle lands in clumps on my arms and shirt.

Bringing up my boot as high as I can, I lodge it in his sternum and pull him closer to me. Just inches from my face now, the stench of death is draped about him like a cloak and it fills my nostrils with its sharp tang. His eyes bore into mine, two blackened coals with ebbing flames scorching their depths, they are hungry and rage filled. I smile into those eyes and he snarls at me. “You suck,” I say and kick with all my might. I hear the splintering of wood and I tighten my grip. A sickening sound of tearing flesh and a jarring crack are swiftly followed by a guttural shriek of pain. The vampire staggers backwards, his broken fangs scattering on the mall floor. I don’t leave a second’s pause before I pull my arm back and swing at its head as though I’m going for the fence. The impact makes a crunch and the baton leaves my hands, embedded in the vamp’s skull as it falls dead.

I let out a breath and turn to check on the others. Before I have a chance to take in the scene I hear the hissing wail issued from the ground. My blood turns to ice in my veins and I look down to see the vampire with an arrow in each leg. It has closed the distance between us and now it claws at my boot as it tugs my legs from under me.

My head hit the tile floor with a thud that I heard rather than felt. I blink at the store signs buzzing overhead as the smell of the vampire spit on my shirt clouds in my nostrils. I want to vomit. I hear the tearing of cloth and my brain snaps back into gear. Lying deathly still I raise only my head. It’s clawing its way up my body, scrabbling and tearing at my trouser leg. If I kick at it the claws will catch my flesh. If it manages to draw a single drop of blood, I’m done. My eyes will turn black and my teeth and hair will fall out and I will grow fangs and claws and shriek in the night. I’ve never feared any fate more.

I turn my head. Nick is still slashing at mommy vamp. She is not going down without a fight but she is almost beaten. Casey remains pressed to Nick’s back, her head turned away from me. I hear the grunts, gasps and hissing of Charlie’s fight. She’s out of eye line and unable to help. I glance to Jo, she has her back to the wall, knife facing forward and eyes screwed tight. She makes a small keening noise in her throat. I whisper her name, letting the vampire claw its wretched stinking corpse up my body. “Jo… I need you kiddo. I need to you slide the knife towards me”. I know she hears me because the whimpering increases in volume and she starts to shake her head.
“I know you’re scared Jo. But you’re being so brave. We’re almost out of here. Just got to finish the job now. Please, open your eyes.” It’s at my stomach, I will never wash this smell off me if I get out of here alive. Its body is a dead weight. I’d struggle to get away now even if I could. The tile presses hard against my spine and I force myself to keep breathing. I flick my eyes back to Jo. Eyes open she is staring at me, horror etched in every inch of her face. She rocks on her heels and “no, no, no, no” issues from her in an almost inaudible whisper.

It’s on my chest, and I’m out of time. I skid the bow from under me and jam it under the vampire’s neck to stop the descent of its teeth. Using my elbows, I block its arms so that it cannot scratch me. This close it seems intent that teeth must do the job. Lucky me. “Damnit Jo, please…….” I bellow, but to no effect. The beast snaps and snarls at me and I lock my arms to hold it at bay. I feel the breeze from each savage clench of its jaw and concentrate on not allowing it to close the gap. Phlegm, black and noxious, lands on my face and I want to gag.

“LUCAS!!!” her holler is like music. I snap my head back as far as it will go and see Charlie running at me full pelt. She is angry and afraid and deadly. “Up and at-em” she calls. I pull my head back down to the vamp and muster every bit of strength left in me to push. I feel the muscles in my arm pop with the strain but I raise that son of a bitch away from my neck. Charlie drops her knee and falls into a slide. I feel the cool air as her sword skims my head and makes direct contact with the beast’s neck. My arms give way and the thing drops towards me with a heavy thud. The fire in the eyes dies out as it’s head rolls to the side and hits the floor, no longer attached to the body.

Suddenly Nick is on us, dragging and heaving the corpse away from me. We are all alive. I am exhausted. Nick drops the body and kicks it towards the wall. “Everyone good?” My voice sounds too loud in the sudden silence. My team sounds off with murmurs of assent. Jo makes no sound but I know she’s ok. I turn my head and see Charlie, hair undone in its wild and untamed glory, she had slid to a dead stop beside me. She reaches up her hand and touches my face. “Shit Luca, that was close”. Her eyes are wide and full of concern. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, “no, not a scratch on me. You?”
“I think I bruised something in that slide.” She rubs her behind and I laugh.
“That was some move.” I agree and a sheepish grin spreads over her face. “What?”
“Truth is,” she glances behind us, “I didn’t mean to do the slide… I think I slipped in vamp goop and just went with it.” She brings her eyes back to mine and we both burst out laughing in glorious tension relieving gasps. I hear Nick join in and Jo and Casey’s whispered comfort to one another and I know that we’re ok.

Relief coursing through me I turn to Charlie. Her eyes are alight with the same relief I feel and I decide not to wait another moment. Fisting my hand into her soft curls I drag her lips to mine. She let out a small sound of surprise and I worry for a moment that I should let her go. Then she parts her soft lips and our tongues entwine. The world falls away and there was only her. Her curves pressed to my side, the tickling halo of her curls and the searing desire that she poured into me with her mouth. I groan, tightening my hold, and pour it all back into her.

Nick gave a muffled cough and we broke apart breathless. She offered me a lopsided smile and then stood and offered her hand to haul me off the floor. I shot Nick the dirtiest look I could manage. He scoffed and raised an amused eyebrow then turned to gather our scattered weapons. Casey moved to help Nick and I crouched in front of Jo.

“We’re ok Jo, you did real good kiddo.” Her eyes weren’t focused on me, refusing to meet my gaze. I pulled her into a standing position and gave her a tight squeeze. Her eyes grew round and terrified and I dropped my arm, convinced I had frightened her with the stinking mess of vampire goo that coated me. The sound of a gurgled hiss from behind me told me I was wrong. We watch as the vamp emerges from the store. His mangled jaw bone telling us that Nick hadn’t finished him off as we thought.

I was already reaching for Charlie’s baton when Jo barrelled past me with a bellow and lunged at the vampire. She struck the beast square in the chest, a mousy ball of fury, riding it to the ground as she plunged my hunting knife square in its eye. The beast died instantly but she sat astride it for a moment, as though waiting to be sure of its death. Then, slowly she pulled the knife from the eye socket to a sickening squelch. She wiped the blackened blade of the knife across the tattered rags of the vamp, cleaning it as best she could. Still, none of us moved or made a sound. She rose, tucked the blade into her belt loop and went about gathering the rest of our belongings.

I turned to look at Casey and Nick, they stared, open-mouthed with horror. I glanced to Charlie who beamed with pride. I couldn’t decide which emotion to feel so instead I broke the silence.
“I’ve had enough of the red mall, let’s finish the sweep and load up guys”.