Author: Matthew Tonks

  • Day 14 – Lies Of A Broken World – Chapter One – Act III

    Day 14 – Lies Of A Broken World – Chapter One – Act III

    Sonya stands at the bar and looks around the room, as soon as she locks eyes with him, she knows that tonight, he is the one, she can feel it between her legs, becoming moist at the thought of his touch. He casually makes his way towards her, both exchanging smiles.

    “What’s a pretty thing like you, doing in a shithole like this?” he asks as he leans up against the bar, next to her.

    “Not very original,” she says with a playful smile. “I would’ve thought someone like you could’ve come up with something more original to get me to go home with you.”

    He lets out a laugh, “Honey, taking you home is the last thing on my mind. I was thinking we just head out back and I smash that fucking gorgeous arse of yours until you can’t walk.”

    “You think you’re that good?”

    “Eight inches good,” he says with a broad smile.

    “Well, Mister Eight Inches Good, why don’t we leave this shithole, as you call it, and get better acquainted with each other elsewhere?”

    “Fuck honey, I know you won’t believe it, but I just grew another two inches,” he says as he holds out his hand for her to take.

    “Cowboy, you better have something mighty fine to replace all this hot air you’ve been filling me up with,” she says as she takes his hand.

    “Honey, you’ve never seen anything like what I’ve got between my legs, I can guarantee that.”

     

    #

     

    Pine Crest Cemetery has been for the last 85 years a place where Law Enforcement officers who die in the line of duty call their final resting place. Superstition keeps most of the current officers away as it shows them what their future will eventually become and they believe in some small way this place is haunted by the ghosts of their past, the ones who never made it out, survivor’s guilt for most of it. For Gary, tonight is not the night to avoid the future or the past, he kneels at the base of a headstone and lays flowers beside it, he gently wipes away the dead flowers and grass that’s grown around the plaque, the words ‘Louise Melissa Jackson’ are written across the front of it. Gary takes a deep breath and sits down facing the headstone.

    “Hi baby, you wouldn’t believe what sort of day I’ve had and I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit lately, it’s been pretty tough for me these past few months, I’ve got this psycho who keeps raking up the bodies and this city just keeps getting worse. I feel like I’m losing more of myself each day, losing who I was, I just wanted to come and let you know I still love you, and I think of you every day and one day I hope after all this is over, I’ll have done enough to earn my place by your side.”

    Gary’s phone begins ringing and he pulls it out of his pocket, “Sorry it’s Danny,” he says as he answers it. “Do I need to even guess why you’re calling me?”

    “I don’t think you should, tenths and seventh, you can’t miss us.”

    “Ok, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he hangs up the phone and looks into her disappointed eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, you know the last thing I want to do is go.”

    “I know, but it’s who you are, it’s why I loved you.” she says.

    “Next year, I’ll stay longer, I promise.”

    “You don’t need to keep coming to see me, it wasn’t your fault what happened.”

    “I don’t blame myself, I just never want to forget you,” Gary says as he wipes the tears from his face, he kisses his index finger and middle finger and presses them against the headstone.

     

    #

     

    Detective Sergeant Brian Wishwilson gets out of his cruiser and walks over to the deserted Lucaston Lookout and lights up a cigarette, he takes a long drag and relaxes as the drug hits where it needs to.

    “You know those things will kill you?” a voice says from out of the shadows.

    “Plenty of things will kill you” Wishwilson replies. “Strange place for a meeting, not the usual spot.”

    “That’s because I’m not your regular contact.”

    “So why the urgent call, the boss getting jumpy because of the shit that went down last week?”

    “No, your boss, as you call him, is unaware of our little meeting detective. This is about you!” the man replies as he walks out of the shadows, dressed in black and holding a blaster towards Wishwilson.

    “What the fuck?” Wishwilson goes for his blaster, but the man fires a shot that rips through his shoulder and sends him crashing to the ground. “Do you realise who I am, what you’re doing?”

    “I know exactly who you are, so let’s have a talk about how dirty a cop you are.”

     

    #

     

    “I wish I had something new to tell you,” Danny says as he gets to his feet and stands beside Gary. “I hated calling you in, but I know you would have been more annoyed if I hadn’t.”

    “It’s OK, over the last few years, if anything, she understands what I do, and she doesn’t hold it against me.”

    “So where do we go from here, this sick fuck is a few steps away from being one of the worst serial killers we’ve dealt with in the last eight years, Gleeson mentioned pressure from upstairs earlier, but he pushed back because he doesn’t want to send the killer in a spin if you are taken off the case.”

    “I know, Tralmane stuck his nose in earlier today, sniffed around like the piece of shit he is and then scurried away, Divisional won’t touch this unless it goes all kinds of sideways.”

    “How long do you recon that will be?”

    “A week, maybe less, our killer is fulfilling something, but the way the kills changed, the way they’ve evolved into what they are now, they are going to push the boundaries, challenge us more.”

    “So you’re thinking our little friend is going up the ante?”

    “Has to, everything evolves, and our killer will as well.”

    “Then you’ve got to crack this case before they do.” A voice says from behind, Gary and Danny turn to face Superintendent Bill Gleeson, head of District-Three. The spotlight shines off his bald head as he runs a hand through his goatee, standing just over six feet tall and with the build of a man who enjoys his food, makes his silhouetted form look intimidating.

    “Our killer needs to give us something first,” Gary replies.

    “Or you give them something.”

    “What are you thinking?”

    “I’m thinking you do what you do best, piss them off,” Gleeson says as he points towards the news crews that stand on the outskirts of the police barrier. “I normally wouldn’t recommend it, and I’m not, but it’s an opportunity to push buttons I know you push well.”

    “You’re the boss, and I expect the back lash I’m going to get will be minimal?”

    “As minimal as I can make it, you get a result then it will disappear for good.”

    Gary strides over to the media and they go into a frenzy, screaming out questions, fighting to get towards him and Gary holds up his hands.

    “Steady on, this is going to be quick and to the point, so I hope you’re all ready because I’m not answering questions. This is directed at the piece of shit who you’ve called the Sunset Slasher. I’m going to get you, and when I do, the law is not going to be in the same room as you and I. In that room I will beat your pathetic, fat little face into a pulp, your little taunts, they don’t and will never scare me, and if you had balls you would come and face me you limp dick piece of shit.” With that he walks back towards Gleeson and Danny, the media screaming questions at Gary, but their words fall of deaf ears as he cares nothing for what they wish to know.

     

    END OF ACT III

  • Working With The Flow

    Working With The Flow

    I decided that all the pretty little headers are nothing more than a distraction, and in some way, a time waster. If you can believe this, The Truck header took longer to get right than it took me to actually write the story. So after a few moments to think I decided that instead I will have a set standard header that will run through all the shorts, the YouChallenge shorts will have a different coloured version, but it will be of the same template. The only variation of course will be Lies of a Broken World, that will keep the header based off the books actual cover art. So let’s continue this adventure, week three begins tomorrow, so no time to sit and reflect yet, let’s get to six months before we do that.

    Matt

  • Day 13 – Short Cut – YouChallenge Short Story

    Day 13 – Short Cut – YouChallenge Short Story

    He pushes the bikes throttle to the maximum as he tears down the street, his heart thumping in his chest viciously as he rides more on instinct than awareness. The numbers displayed on the inside of his helmet continue to count down and he tries to push the bike harder, faster, but he knows he is too far behind the clock now, and he only has one option, he has to go left, through the Unclassed Zone. He slams the bike around the next corner and keeps the throttle down as he powers through the gates with a crash, the front wheel wobbles violently as he tries to regain control and that’s when he spots them, limbering towards him, and he closes his eyes tightly as he slams into them, they are thrown left and right as the bike goes crashing to the ground, and the rider rolls with the crash and quickly scrambles to his feet as more of them come from out of the darkness. He pulls out a metal rod and charges towards his still purring bike as one of the three he ran into lunges for him, he smashes it across the face with the rod, knocking it to the ground, and pulls his bike back up onto it’s two wheels…

    If you want to read the final version of this short story, and thirty others, follow the link below, or join the mailing list and get a copy for free!

    TWISTED ROADS – AN ANTHOLOGY OF TWISTED TALES – VOLUME 1

    The world is but a twisted globe, spinning round and round, allowing light to breathe life onto its weary bones. But, where there’s light, there’s always darkness, and hiding in the shadows are things our imagination cannot even begin to understand. So buckle up and venture forward on a journey through thirty-one short stories, stories bathed in blood, stories dipped in darkness, stories that will take you through the veil of sanity and onto the twisted roads of madness.

    Available to buy in ebook or paperback format from Amazon HERE, (please make sure your geographical location is set to your country so you can purchase a copy) as well as all other ebook suppliers.

    This book is FREE to all mailing list subscribers.

    To subscribe, press HERE!

  • Day 12 – My Design – Short Story

    Day 12 – My Design – Short Story

    He feels his face and grimaces with pain, the deep cut under his eye flows freely with blood, he places the sleeve of his jumper over his hand and presses it against the wound. Next to him lies the body of his attacker, his cold, dead eyes staring at him. For what seems like forever he holds the dead man’s gaze until he shuffles slowly to his feet, the blood soaked knife still tightly in his grip. He lets out a moan as he falls back against the wall, dropping the knife, he feels the sharpness of the blade as it tears into his foot, but everything freezes into place as he hears movement coming from beyond a metal door to his right. His heart races a million miles an hour and his breathing picks up its pace as his eyes shift to the doors handle, watching it as it slowly turns, he grits his teeth and crouches down, pulling the knife from his foot. The door swings open and she stands there, in the doorway, silhouetted by the lights behind her, he sucks in a breath and holds it, in awe of her beauty, tonight seeing her for the first time tonight as she truly is. He lets out a primeval cry and charges towards her, but in his weakened state he is no match for her and she easily out manoeuvres his attack and sends him crashing to the ground, the knife tumbling out of his grip and skidding across the floor.

    “Seriously, is this how you choose to deal with this? You should have run, you should have stayed hidden, like the piece of shit you are,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her words.

    “What else did you expect me to do? You threw me away like I was nothing, like I was a piece of garbage, after everything I did for you, everything I taught you, everything I gave you, what else should I have done?”

    “You never gave me anything, all you did was take, take, take and then when there was nothing else to take you still tried, you should have let the darkness swallow you, instead of coming back,” she says as she drives a knee into the back of his neck, grabbing a hand full of hair and pulling his head back and placing a blade to his throat. “He was my father!”

    “Only by blood, I’m your true father, not that pathetic corpse!”

    “You had no right, you’re a disease Milian, a disease that needs to be cured with this blade, I made it, just like you taught me,” she says as she digs the blade into his throat.

    “You’re nothing without me, I made you, everything you are is because of me not them, I freed you from what you would have become, another pathetic waste of human flesh. Do it, kill me and see where your life leads you little fox, see what you have left without me!”

    “You stole me from my family, you abused me, you used me, brainwashed me into believing your way was the right way, that I was called into this depraved life for a reason.But you were wrong, you see, you may have taught me how to kill, how to survive, but you never made me, you just unlocked a part of me I kept hidden, a part of me that was always there!” She says as she slices the blade across his throat, then drives it through the centre of his skull. His body jerks violently for a few moments, but she keeps her knee firmly planted in his back and only releases it once he goes still and lifeless. She gets to her feet and wipes the blade on the back of his jumper and looks down upon the body of the man she’s called many things over the years since he stole her from her bed so many years ago, but she never called him father. He thought he was creating a disciple, a follower, but in the end all he really created was a weapon, a weapon that was only made to serve one purpose, and that purpose had now been fulfilled.

    END

  • Day 11 – All Good Plans – Short Story

    Day 11 – All Good Plans – Short Story

    She digs her fingernails into the floorboards and drags herself closer towards the doorway and looks over her shoulder in desperation, over at his still unmoving body that lies a few feet away. She reaches out again and drags herself closer to the door as a foot comes stomping down onto her hand and she screams in agony, he is on her quickly, grabbing a large handful of hair he smashes her head into the floor several time before she goes limp.

    “Fucking bitch,” he says as he drives a boot into her side. “Thought you could fuck with me, thought you could make me suffer, well suffering is the only thing you’re going to be doing now you piece of shit!” He says as he drives another boot into her.

    Five minutes earlier…

    She smiles at him as she brushes the hair from her eyes, “So, what do you think?”

    “I’m not sure, it’s a big risk,” he says as he looks up from the piece of paper. “I mean, I can see you’ve done all the calculations, allowed for everything that could go wrong. But there’s still so many things that could not work, we don’t need more pressure right now, not like this.”

    “Don’t be a chicken, there’s no way this can fail, not if we follow the plan.”

    “Your plans not full-proof, there’s so much that could go wrong, we could end up losing everything and then what are we going to do?”

    “We’ll work it out,” she says as she gets up from her seat. “We just can’t keep going on this way, talking about what could be, let’s just fucking do it.”

    “I don’t know Sammy, we could totally fuck it up, it needs to be something simple, something where we have total control, I just think your plan is too crazy to work.”

    “Bullshit,” she says as she pushes him. “This is a sure fire plan Tommy, there’s no way it could go wrong!”

    “Sammy, baby, we…” A loud crash comes from the room opposite and they both freeze in place, and stare towards the doorway. Tommy picks up a revolver from the table and looks at Sammy as he slowly gets up from his seat and makes his way towards the door.

    “Don’t damage him, he’s not worth anything dead.”

    “I know alright, just shut up,” he says as he places a hand on the door handle and takes a deep breath before he pulls it open, and they both stare into the darkness beyond, but it’s all too late that Tommy notices the wooden post that lurches from out of the darkness and crashes down on to his skull, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap. Sammy turns and heads frantically towards the other doorway as the man steps out of the room and hurtles the post at her, it cracks her in the back of the head and she hits the floor with a violent thud. Desperately she reaches out and digs her fingernails into the floorboards as she tries to drag herself to the doorway.

    Now…

    Sammy awakens to a world of pain and confusion, for a few moments she just sits there in silence as her brain tries to fill her in on what’s happening, but it’s when she tries to move she finds herself bound tightly to a chair. She looks up frantically and sees a bloody and beaten Tommy tied to a chair opposite and in-between them he sits, with the revolver in his hand and a smug smile on his face.

    “I wouldn’t worry too much about lover boy there, he’s not coming back anytime soon, I’d worry more about yourself, because sugar, I’ve got so many things to show you,” he says with a grin.

     

    END

  • Day 10 – Lies Of A Broken World – Chapter One – Act II

    Day 10 – Lies Of A Broken World – Chapter One – Act II

    He stands underneath the shower, letting the water wash away his sins, his body scarred and bruised, he feels a hand slide around his chest from behind, and then her naked body pressing up against him.

    “Did you really need to break my finger?” she asks as she runs her hand down over his stomach and begins to slowly caress his member. “Not that I’m complaining, it got me fucking wet, but my finger? How the fuck am I going to explain that tomorrow?”

    “Honey I don’t care, but just so we’re on the same page, you know you’re fucked up right?”

    “You joined in and you have the nerve to call me fucked up?”

    “I call it as I see it, but I’m not stupid enough to pass up a fine thing like you,” he says with a smile.

    “Well I’m happy I made your night,”

    “Honey, you made me very happy,” he grabs her hand and starts rubbing his hardening member against it.

    She releases him and takes a step backwards and he turns around and takes a step towards her, his eyes wide and full of desire, she places a hand on his chest and pushes him away. “Keen for more are we?”

    “Honey, if you want to take it rough again I’m happy to accommodate.”

    “Lover what makes you think I want it rough, maybe I might like it with a bit of passion this time instead of aggression?” She says as she steps back towards him and places a hand on his chin, caressing his cheek, he closes his eyes and buries himself in her hand.

    “I’ll take you anyway you’re willing to let me?”

    “I can see that,” she says as she grabs hold of his hard member and slowly beings to run her hand up and down the shaft.

    “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

    “Neither have you,” she says as she presses herself against him and kisses him passionately, he pulls her away and they look deeply into each other’s eyes, the water washing over them both. He feels the coldness of it first, and then the pain. Looking down he sees the knife sticking from his stomach and his blood washing into the drain, he looks up at her, speechless. She returns his look of shock and confusion with a wry smile, and rips the knife upwards, opening his stomach up like a fish. He tries in vain to say something, but only ends up choking on his own blood, all the while, she continues to smile. As his legs begin to give way he desperately tries to hold himself up against her, but she shoves him away, sending him crashing to the floor, smashing his face on the tiles, black flashes begins to slowly fill up his vision and then nothing.

     

    #

     

    Gary takes a large mouthful of his drink and places the glass back on the table, he looks across into the smiling face of the man sitting opposite, Andrew Fontanie, Gary’s former partner for eight years and best friend since he was six, he looks half Gary’s age, but with less hair and in the eight months since he was forcibly removed from District-Three his once well keep physical appearance has dissolved somewhat into a few extra pounds around his stomach, but nothing life threatening as he always says. In his own words, he’s enjoying the stress free life and getting ready for the day when he can’t afford to eat, and then the extra fat will come in handy.

    “If I knew you were going to suck the soul out of the room I wouldn’t have invited you along, obviously this Slasher case is still winding you up, like a fucking windy little fucking toy thing, you know what I’m talking about.” Fontaine says as he slams his glass into the table.

    “Shut the fuck up, it’s just annoying the fuck out me, I mean seriously, there is no fucking readable system this fucker is following.”

    “OK, so let’s go over it again, most of the victims are unconnected, some of them have rap sheets, and some don’t. You have men, women and even a transgender thrown in there for good measure and let’s mention the best part, the killer offs their victims the exact same way every time.”

    “No every time, the first few kills were more brutal, like the killer really took their time, and then they started to evolve into what we have now.”

    “OK, right, so the first kills meant something to our killer, these guys, four of them right?”

    “Yep, four pieces of shit, Mike Jarvice, Lenny Farr, Pop Johnson and Derrick Sarcivic.”

    “Right, anyway, the four of them, they had some connection to our killer, and what, we decided they obviously did something fucked up to our psycho, something bad enough to warrant a beating before they stuck them like a pig.”

    “Most obvious conclusion.”

    “Right and the best part about these dropkicks is that the four of them have rap sheets, predominantly for assault and rape, and hung in the same circles.”

    “So did victim number eight, Harry Thorpe, he had connections to all four and minor connections to the last two, who were also connected to Lenny.”

    “So there’s our system,” Fontaine says as he empties the remainder of his glass into his mouth.

    “We know there’s a system, but what the fuck are we supposed to do to stop it, put a track on all the fuckers who have a rap sheet that have had some connection with any of the victims?”

    “That’s the only answer,” Fontaine says as he turns around towards the bar. “Janey, have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

    “Every day Fontaine, every day, you need another two?” she replies

    “You know how to get into my pants.”

    “Pity for you I’m not that easy.”

    “Will not stop me from trying my love,” Fontaine says as he turns back to Gary, who looks more distressed than before, he turns back around to the bar. “Can you make it four pumpkin, my friend here needs some sobering up.”

    “Well he’s going about it the wrong way.”

    “That’s what I told him, but as you can see, he’s a bit bigger than me, so I’ll pass on the arguing,” Janey laughs and he feels Gary’s eyes burn into the back of his head.

    “You’re not that funny,” Gary says, Janey places the drinks on the table.

    “Ignore him Gary, I do,” she says with a smile.

    “One day, Janey, one day you’ll be mine and then..”

    “Then I’ll take everything I can and divorce you like the rest,” she says, Gary lets out a laugh and slaps Fontanie on the back.

    Fontaine smiles, “What can I say, when she’s right, she’s right. Anyway, the next time you get a call out let me come with, it’s better to see the work in the flesh than in pictures.”

    “You know what happened last time, Bill lost his shit.”

    “Yeah I know, old fart, still I’m better off away from the controlling eyes of Divisional, doing my own thing, being my own boss. You know, not having someone come down on you when three high profile suspects turn up dead, shit like that.”

    “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, and the old fart kept you out of the freezer, if you remember, if he hadn’t of swept all the shit that happened with the Gillespie brothers under the carpet neither of us would be here.”

    “He only did it because he knew you were involved, otherwise he would’ve sent my arse to the freezer instead of sending me out the door, we both know that. Oh and did I mention the old prick ripped me of my pension?” Fontaine says as he pours one of his drinks down his throat until empty.

    “Yes you have, many fucking times, but he still did us a favour,” Gary says as he gets to his feet.

    “OK, I get it, let it go Andrew, relax Andrew, I’m with you big guy, I’m there. But you don’t need to leave, I mean I don’t really want to come along to the next body anyway, it’s never any fun.”

    “I said when you called me I had things to do tonight, so I could only stay for a few, a few has passed and I have somewhere to be.”

    “Oh shit, it’s the twenty-eighth, I totally didn’t realise.”

    “It’s OK, don’t worry about it, but I’ll talk to you later, when you’re sober,” Gary says as he quickly exits the bar.

    “Good, sober means tomorrow, I think. Well my lovely I guess it’s just me and you for the rest of the evening,” Fontaine says as he turns to the bar, but Janey is nowhere to be seen. A puzzled Fontaine turns back around and looks at the three full glasses. “Well I guess it’s just you three and me for the rest of the evening,” he says as he picks up one of the glasses.

     

    END OF ACT II

  • Day 09 – Stay Classy – Short Story

    Day 09 – Stay Classy – Short Story

    Stay classy, what the fuck is it supposed to mean? I mean seriously, when some fucking numb skull gives you a wink and says, stay classy kid, how the fuck are you supposed to take it? OK, I guess to really understand it’s meaning you really have to know what sort of situation it was used in, then you’d know what it was used to reference, confused? Well let me give you a quick rundown on my experience, and it starts and ends with local mobster, Frank Galboni. You see, old Frank gave me a wink and a click of his fingers and said those fucking words, stay classy, all while two of his goons had their pistols embedded in either side of my skull. Did I deserve to be in a position like that? Yeah maybe, see only a few short minutes before all this took place I was one finger deep inside his eighteen year old daughter while her twenty year old sister blew me off, as I let lose my seed in her mouth Frank walked in and well that’s how I ended up on my knees, dick out and pistols to the head. That’s when it all happened, as he was walking away he turned to me, winked, clicked his fingers and said, stay classy kid. Now I’ve got to be honest, those words confused the fuck out of me because I couldn’t figure out if he was secretly patting me on the back for scoring the way I had with his two daughters, I mean everyone knows Galboni likes to play around on his wife with as many pieces of tail as he can. Not that his wife complains, she knows what he does, but she wants for nothing, and she can have anyone she wants, when she wants, and I know it’s true, because I’ve been there. Two night before all this I turned up because an old pal of mine worked for Galboni and was trying to help me get some work. Anyway, the next thing I know I’m face deep between her legs, covered in her juices as she’s slobbering over my cock. Galboni didn’t have a problem with me that night, he even gave me a job out of how well I serviced his wife, so why crack the shits over me doing his daughters? But that’s all here nor there, the worst part is that I knew I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, but I needed to know what he meant by the stay classy remark, especially before his two goons put their bullets into my skull, so I took a quick breath and called out.

    “Mister Galboni, can I ask a question before your boys make a mess out of my head?” I called out, Galboni took his hand off the door handle and after a few seconds he turned around and stared me down.

    “What?”

    “The stay classy line, I’ve got to ask. Did you mean it as a good thing, like you did good kid, I liked the way you scored with those bitches, or did you mean it in a sarcastic, Al Capone, your dead, sort of way?”

    “Seriously kid, did you just call my baby girls bitches?”

    “I know, I know, it shouldn’t be what’s worrying me, I know it should be your boys and their toys that should be my real concern. But fuck me, I can’t get past that stay classy comment, please, you’ve got to let me know what you meant?”

    “Kid, it meant nothing, it’s just a fucking saying, you stupid fuck!” He yelled as he drove the baseball bat down onto my head, I still don’t ever remember seeing him pick it up, but obviously he must have, from somewhere. Anyway, I felt the first two hits, and they hurt like fucking hell, but after that it was pretty much nothing. Although I did get to see the old fucker keel over after he brought the tenth swing of the bat down on my smashed in head. Seems the godfather had a bad ticker and it just fucking stopped, too much stress I presume and the fucker fell face down, in a puddle of my blood, dead as a door nail. But I’ll tell you something, he looked fucking classy all the way.

     

    END

  • Day 08 – The Truck – Short Story

    Day 08 – The Truck – Short Story

    She runs a hand through her hair and grips a clump of it in frustration and looks across the table at him, he smiles uncomfortably at her, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth.

    She clears her throat before she speaks again, “Can we start at the beginning, again?” She says.

    “What do you mean by the beginning? Before or after everything went to shit?”

    “Let’s start with how you found this truck you keep talking about?”

    “I told you before honey cups, I just woke up and it was there, there’s not much else to tell, I’d love to have some fantastic story that would excite and intrigue you, but real life’s just not like that.”

    “Just humour me and tell me what you remember from that morning, after you woke up?”

    “If it’s going to float your boat honey, I’ll tell you one more time, I woke up, felt great, actually I felt the best I ever had, and I was buff, I’m talking massive fucking muscle growth over night and on top of that I looked hot, fucking still do,” he says as he flexes his arm and kisses his flabby chicken wing bicep, she feels her stomach churn with disgust. “Anyway I went and took a piss, and almost passed out from shock when I pulled the python out. I did mention the beast has grown a whole eight and a half whole inches down there as well?”

    “Yes, you’ve somehow managed to mention it twelve times so far.”

    “Good, it’s like a major lynch pin of the story, anyway, after I picked myself up from the floor I stroked one out, as any normal man would and grabbed a coffee and went outside for a smoke. That’s the first time I saw it, just sitting there, the engine was on and she was just purring, really sweet like. In fact, I don’t think I told you the last time, but I stroked another one out then and there, on her hood.”

    “No you never mentioned that before, but it doesn’t surprise me,” she says as she squirms in her seat.

    “Hey honey, when the mood hits only an empty man would resist, and by empty I don’t mean in the ball sack,” he says flashing his mouthful of rotten teeth again and clutching his balls. “Anyway I looked in the trailer and couldn’t believe what I saw, it was just simply amazing, basically a mobile hotel, I wandered around the rooms for about half an hour, but found no one anywhere on board. So I poured another cup of coffee, had another smoke, stroked one more out of the beast and decided to take the truck for a spin.”

    “Didn’t you worry about the owner?”

    “Honey I’d just woken up, had gone from a 60 kilo weakling to a one fifty kilo hard bodied, hung like a horse, love God, why question anything at that stage of the day?”

    “Because any sane person would?”

    “Honey, it like questioning why the moon shines at night even though it’s just a rock.”

    “It’s the suns reflections that makes the moon glow.”

    “See, I don’t care for your answer, because honestly, I don’t care.”

    “Being ignorant of the answers does not make you right, and I can’t just accept this truck was just there, someone must have driven it outside your house, it couldn’t have just, just been there, don’t you see how impossible it all sounds, isn’t there part of you that realised it’s all wrong?”

    “Why, because you say so?”

    She grits her teeth and cleanses one of her hands into a fist and takes a deep breath, “Look, let’s just get back to your story, you’d decided to take the truck for a drive, what happened next?”

    “Well, obviously I noticed shit wasn’t right, the city was fucked, like a nuke hit it, and that’s when I came across Sophie, Deborah and Lynette.”

    “Who did what, they told you about the apocalypse happening?”

    He laughs for a few moments before settling back in his chair, “No way honey, they told me I looked like a gift from the heavens and we all fucked a few times to Billy Idols Flesh For Fantasy, always sets the scene that song, gets the guys hard and the girls wet. Anyway after that we set out looking for other survivors.”

    “You had sex, with all three?”

    “Honey, you know it,” he says with a smile bobbing his head back and forth, playing what can be described as an air guitar and starts singing, “Face to face, and back to back, you see and feel, my sex attack, sing it, flesh, flesh for fantasy, we want, flesh, flesh….”

    “Please, can we stay on track,” she interrupts. “Honestly, don’t you see how absurd this all sounds?”

    “Damn straight I do,” he says as he leans back in his seat. “But when life throws you diamonds you don’t throw them back.”

    “So for the record, where are we at the moment? In the truck?”

    “No, do we look like we’re in a truck? Can you feel the motor purring under your arse, getting you all tingly in the right spots?”

    She blushes and clears her throat, “So, where are we?”

    “A shitty little diner called Lumps Shack, we were passing through and Trudy spotted you sitting here, staring off into space.”

    “Trudy? Does she drive the truck?”

    “No way, Trudy went to school with me, although back then she never wanted a thing to do with me, like the rest of the women we’ve picked up along the way, well the ones I knew before? But hey, since the apocalypse happened, they’ve all spent more time on top of me than they ever did anyone else. But she don’t drive,” he laughs. “Actually none of them do, unless you’re talking about the python, they all drive at least once every few days. It’s either me or one of the other guys who do the driving and it just so happened that today I was driving while Trudy was giving me head, she just finished wiping her mouth when she spotted you,” he says with a smile.

    “Who are the other guys?”

    “You know, the other guys, they look after all the shit I don’t.”

    “Yes, but what are their names? You reel off your female companions names without a thought, but yet you can’t name one of these supposed other males who assist you, can’t you see how illogical that sounds?”

    “Honey, none of them touch my junk so why should I know their names? And seriously sweet pea,” he says as he leans forward on to the table. “Why keep asking all these questions for anyway? All I wanted to know was, did you want a free ride on my truck?” He says, leaning back in his seat with a big, rotten grin. “What do you think this is anyway, a psych evaluation?”

    “What do you think this is?”

    “I normally like a girl in control honey, but you’re way out there, like fucking way, way out there. But to answer your question, what we’re having is called a conversation, nothing else, not what you’re making it out to be anyway.”

    “I’m not the one who’s living in a world where the apocalypse has happened, which by the way you can’t explain, and you somehow impossibly came across an enormous truck that you drive around in, picking up gorgeous women and living the life of Hugh Hefner to Billy Idol music.”

    “Honey, Hugh’s got nothing on me, but your right about the rest. You see, your problem is you don’t want to believe it, you want to stay in the world inside your head. One where everything is still all ok, and not fucked up and shit, like it really is. But it’s OK, because you’re not the first one we’ve came across and you won’t be the last, it’s just up to you how we move forward.”

    “What does that mean?”

    “Whether you stay here, in your little word, or you come with us?”

    “I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree, I know what’s real and what’s insane stories from a crazy man.”

    “Honey, crazy is just an illusion, fuck, we breathe air, but if we were to truly try to understand how it works it would sound insane, right?”

    “Seriously, trees make oxygen you idiot.”

    “For starters, when was the last time you saw a tree? And secondly, really trees make oxygen? Doesn’t that sound crazy, I mean, do you really believe trees make oxygen? Fuck, are you really that far gone inside your head that you’re so blind to what’s happening around you? Because if so, you honey, are one damaged piece of arse.”

    She gets to her feet and looks down at him, and takes off her glasses, “I think I’ve had enough of your insults.”

    “Honey, I haven’t insulted you half as much as I’ve wanted too.”

    “Good bye, Mister Liewus,” she says as she exits the room, waiting outside is a man in a dark suit and he looks at her with concern.

    “So what’s your verdict?”

    “Whatever world he’s invented inside his dim witted brain is real to him, and it’s going to take a lot of drug therapy and one on one work to help break down the walls and star…..”

    “Hello??” He says as he waves his hands in front of her expressionless face, but she continues to stare off into nothingness, muttering to herself, he turns to the three woman who stand in the door way of the run down café and shrugs his shoulder in confusion.

    “Let’s just leave her, she’s not coming out of whatever hole she’s put herself in,” he says as he looks back at her again and places a hand on her breast and squeezes it, but still she just sits there, continuing to mumble away to herself.

    He turns to the women and smiles. “Who’s up for some Billy Idol?” He says as he chases the women into the massive trailer that awaits outside the café, as the door slams the truck’s engine roars to life and blows its horn several times before taking off, out into the desolate wasteland.

     

    END

  • Day 07 – Lies Of A Broken World – Chapter One – Act I

    Day 07 – Lies Of A Broken World – Chapter One – Act I

    Sunset Heights has, for many years, been one of those Downtown suburbs that draws attention to itself for all the wrong reasons, its past is littered with stories of violence and death, stories that make you wonder why people keep living here.

    Examples of the insanity it attracts can be found scattered throughout the years, such as in twenty-one eighty-one when serial arsonist Teddy Holloway started four hundred and twenty-seven fires within a single hour, burning two hundred and two people to death before he was apprehended and put on ice for eighty-five years.

    Or two short years later when former Divisional Sergeant turned junky, Ricky Lincoln, was visited by God and given the mission of thinning downtown of its ever growing population after a night of overindulging on a bad batch of the party drug JoyTwoTheWorld. He massacred one hundred and eighty-six people during his reign of insanity, his kill count would have been more if it wasn’t for the fact that enforcement officers cornered him in a local arcade, he took five officers with him before he turned his blaster on himself.

    There are more stories like these ones, but we will save them for another day as we concentrate on the here and now. The here and now being the end of twenty-one eighty-five, and Sunset Heights has found itself in the grip of a new terror, a terror the media have named ‘The Sunset Slasher.’ Over the past sixteen days this Slasher has racked up a body a day and shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. So far the usual age, race, sex or religious beliefs are non-existent as the Slashers targets seem random, as if the killer is picking their victims names out of a hat, leaving no pattern to follow and tonight, the Slasher prepares to strike again.

    He stands there silently, looking out of the window, mesmerized by the city, it calls to him, tells him all the lies it knows he wants to hear. A cold shiver runs through his body and he places a hand against his forehead, letting out a long, deep breath. He can feel it, calling to him, the want, no wait, not the want, the need, the need is calling him, pulling at him again and again, and he feels hopeless against it. A droplet of sweat runs down his face, quickly followed by several more, he turns from the window and looks around the room, at her, she lies sleeping in the bed, unaware of his need.

    He stands there for what seems like an eternity, studying every facet of her face, her shape beneath the covers, as if this is the first time he has ever really looked at her, even though he knows it’s not. He comes back to reality with a jolt as she moves, and slowly begins to open her eyes, she notices his dark shape silhouetted against the light from the city beyond her window, and her eyes shoot open wide and she lets out a scream of terror before he is upon her, muffling her cries with a large hand.

    “Don’t make me hurt you, Sonya!” he says as he forces her back down onto the bed, she struggles and he grabs her right hand and snaps her index finger back, she writhes in agony. “The next thing I’ll break will be your neck if you don’t fucking cooperate.”

    She slowly stops wriggling, tears running down her face, she stares at him, her eyes pleading with him to let her go.

    “Better,” he says as he releases her hand and looks down at her, slowly running his hand through her hair, brushing it from her face. “Why do we always find our way back here?” He pulls the sheets back and runs his rough hand up along her body, coming to a stop on her breast, he takes a handful and squeezes it firmly. “Now we’re going to play a little game, the more you cooperate, the less I hurt you, nod to show me you understand?”

    She nods her head in understanding, and he smiles.

    “Good,” he says as he bites down into her shoulder, slobbering over her with his lust, “Grab me,” he says, “squeeze it, squeeze it like you want to hurt it.” She follows his commands and grabs him, squeezing with all the strength she can muster, his soft, unresponsive thing feels like plasticine in her hand, he pulls himself away from her and drives a punch into her stomach. “Is that all you’ve got? Squeeze it harder you bitch.”

    She tries to catch her breath, but he grabs her by the throat and begins to slowly choke the life from her, she twists and pulls and squeezes him, and slowly he grows hard. She hopes from his response he will release his grip, but he does not. She feels a wave of darkness begin to settle over her, and then everything goes black as she loses consciousness.

     

    #

     

    Red and blue lights flash from the police cruisers that surround the alleyway where the latest body has been discovered. Large spotlights bathe the area in light, across one of the alleyway walls the word ‘Jackson’ is scribbled in blood, a message believed to be aimed at one of District-Three’s Detective Inspector’s, Gary Jackson.

    Gary’s longer than usual dusty brown hair sits on his head messy and uncared for, his unshaven face and sleep deprived eyes makes him look ten or more years older than the forty-five he actually is, and his six foot five inch frame stands tall, but not as straight and proud as normal, making his well-built figure look drained and deflated.  He stands a few feet from the body looking over the crime scene, having spent the last twenty-nine years working as an enforcement officer, he’s seen many things that he would choose to forget if given the chance, the horrors that some will do for no reason other than to fulfill the need to kill.

    ‘Another fucking murder, I just need something, anything to stop this psycho.’ He thinks to himself.

    Since the bodies started piling up Gary has tried everything at his disposal to find and apprehend whoever is responsible, even accepting the help of a high-ranking profiler from Delta Divisional the mecca of Law Enforcement in Delta City, Oliver has been totally useless as far as Gary is concerned. With each passing day, he feels like he is drowning further and further underneath the weight of the bodies that are stacking up, and nothing he can do will sedate it.

    “What’s the verdict?” he asks Danny Halifax, District-Three’s top forensic coroner who is presiding over the body.

    “It’s the same piece of shit, same calling card with all the trimmings.”

    “Tell me you’ve got something this time?”

    “Not a damn thing, she’s as clean as the day she came into this world, like the rest.”

    “And the blood?” Gary asks pointing to the wall, each location where the bodies have been found has had his name written in blood above the remains, and since the second murder the blood used has been from the previous victim.

    “Blood works confirmed its victim fifteen, Trisha Mills’ blood, as we expected it to be.”

    “Be as thorough as you can Danny, if that fucker left anything for you to find it could crack this case wide open.”

    “If I get anything to work with, you’ll be the first to know.”

    Gary walks back to his awaiting cruiser and runs a hand through his hair as he slams the other onto the cruisers roof in frustration.

     

    END OF ACT I

  • Day 06 – The Final Request – YouChallenge Short Story

    Day 06 – The Final Request – YouChallenge Short Story

    The wind blows through the trees, scattering it’s leaves through the air with a ferociousness, sending them floating helplessly across the park.

    Clive Foster tightens the grip on his jacket as the wind cuts through his clothing and forces a cold shiver through his body that sends his teeth into a violent clatter. With his free hand he grabs a handful of seed from the paper bag and throws it to the pigeons, who greedily gobble up as much as they can, keeping their distance, but not. He looks up, knowing before he sees her that she is close, her red jacket almost glows against the dullness of the day, and he lets himself smile. She smiles back and he stands to meet her, embracing each other in an intimate hug, speaking more about their feelings towards each other than words ever could.

    “I didn’t think you’d come?” He says softly as they sit.

    “I almost didn’t.”

    “I’m glad you did, your looking good, young.”

    “That’s because I am, you look like I expected you to.”

    “What, old and haggard?”

    “Something like that, so why contact me now after all these years, I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with me after Simon?”

    “The past is what it is, I’m dying, cancer, it’s through my bones and working its way up to my brain, the doctors say I only have a few weeks at the most,” He says quickly, locking eye contact with her for a moment, then looking back towards the pigeons.

    “It happens, it’s part of being mortal, something that can’t be escaped, but you could’ve told me this over the phone, why meet?”

    “Isn’t it obvious? I’m scared, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to end up nothing.”

    “It’s a bit late for that,” she says as she leans back on the bench. “So, is this really how it’s going to happen, is this you begging?”

    “What?” He replies as he looks at her again, he feels parts of him twinge with life as he does, this woman, the only true love of his life, one he let go so long ago has not been touched by time like him, her beauty as it was when he first set eyes on her.

    “Don’t play this game Clive, you know all you have to do is ask.”

    “Ask?”

    “Ask for it, I told you years ago that’s all you needed to do, and I’m telling you now,” she says as she leans over and cuddles up to him. “Ask my love, ask and it will be.”

    “I’m scared.”

    “Don’t be, I’ll be with you the whole way, and then, you will have peace, just ask,” she says as she holds him tighter.

    He kisses her on the top of her head and they turn and face each other.

    “Forever?”

    “Forever,” she replies.

    “Then do it, please,” he says, her eyes glimmer in the gloomy light and she bites down, into his throat, and he smiles as she remakes him.

     

    END

    Someone asked me as a joke to write a story about an old man sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons. This made me decided that every Wednesday is a YouChallenge story, meaning I’ll write something based on a short idea from someone, anyone, no limit, no shyness, whatever is asked will be written. So here’s the first YouChallenge, enjoy.

  • Day 05 – The Things You’ll Do For Love – Short Story

    Day 05 – The Things You’ll Do For Love – Short Story

    Melinda sits on the side of her bed, and the tears run down her face uncontrollably as the day finally takes its toll on her. Jeremy makes his way into the room carrying a glass of water and sits down beside her placing a hand on her leg and handing her the glass. She looks at him through tear filled eyes and smiles as she takes a big mouthful from the glass and hands it back to him, she wipes her mouth as he places the glass on the table beside the bed.

    “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she says as she grips his hand tightly.

    “You never have to worry about that, I’m here for you whenever you need me, however you need me.”

    She smiles as she runs a hand across his jaw, “God, these last few weeks have been the worst weeks of my life and the only good thing that’s happened is you,” she says as she looks into his big, green eyes. “It’s like you came into my life just when I needed you the most.”

    “I guess it’s the world telling us something I think, I mean, I’ve never believed in fate, or destiny or any of that shit before, but when we ran into each other that night something greater was at play, something out of our control, something wonderful,” he replies with a smile.

    “You think so, you think we met each other for a reason?”

    “I know so, somehow we both were meant to be there, somehow we were supposed to meet, so we could forge this,” he says as he rubs her leg, she looks down at his hand and cuddles up to him as the tears flow again.

    “Really? I feel so terrible that you’re stuck with me like this, all the crazy things that have happened, with everything, god you don’t even really know me but you’ve somehow stuck by my side.”

    “Don’t be sorry, I want to be here, it’s my choice, so don’t be sorry.”

    She smiles at him and stares down at her lap, “I just wish I had more time, you know, the doctor said Mum died instantly, she didn’t feel any pain, but it doesn’t help, fuck I was only…” But she loses control and nothing else but cries of pain come forth, Jeremy hugs her tightly.

    “It’s OK, let it out,” he says as he kisses her on the forehead. Several moments pass before Melinda finally regains control and she pulls herself free from Jeremy’s clutches and composes herself, she picks up her phone and checks her messages and lets out a stuttered breath of anxiety, throwing it back down onto the bed.

    “God I just wish Susan would answer her fucking phone or at least reply to a message to let me know she’s OK and she’s on her way, no one’s heard from her for three days, it’s not like her, fuck none of this is like anything I’ve ever experienced before, I just don’t know what to do.”

    “She’ll show up, I’m sure of it,” Jeremy says as he places a hand on her chin and turns her face to his. “But I’m here for you baby, and I’m not going anywhere,” he kisses her on the lips and they press their foreheads together. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says softly as he takes a deep breath.

    Tears run down her face and she pushes him away and sits for a few moments before she turns back and reach out slowly, nervously and places her hands either side of his face and kisses him back, “I think I’m falling for you too, it’s the worst time, I know, but I am,” she says and they kiss passionately, falling backward onto the bed together, in each others arms.

     

    #

     

    Jeremy throws his keys on the counter and collapses onto his couch, and looks across at her and smiles.

    “She said it, she said the words, fuck, this is insane, I mean, where’s this going to go from here?” But she does not answer his question, she only stares deathly at him, the hate in her eyes like knives trying to stab him, and he smiles. “Don’t be jealous, it’s just the way life is,” he says as he gets to his feet and walks over to her, he runs a hand through her hair and she pulls away, so he grabs a handful of it and pulls her back towards him. “It’ll be over soon,” he says with a grin, tears stream down her face as she sees him raise the blade towards her, she jerks around furiously, but she knows there is no hope, the bindings are too tight and her moving around only makes them rip into her naked flesh. “By the way, I killed your mother this morning,” he says as he slices her throat open and laughs. “The things you’ll do for love,” and he steps back and watches the life drain from Susan’s body.

     

    END

     

  • Day 04 – It’s All In The Fine Print – Short Story

    Day 04 – It’s All In The Fine Print – Short Story

    The banging on the door cause his heart to race a million miles an hour, panic sets in and he quickly scans over the monitor to his left and highlights the door camera. A well-dressed man holding a briefcase stands at the door and patiently waits for an answer. He clears his throat of the saliva and mucus and presses a button on the keyboard in front of him.

    “C-can I help you?” He asks.

    “Mister Welford?”

    “You’re him?”

    “If by him, you mean me, then yes, I am him. We spoke over the phone about the classifieds ad, we arranged to meet, at twelve thirty, which I believe is now.”

    “Y-Yes, of course, please come in,” he says as he pressed another button and several locks on the door release. “It’s open.”

    The man opens the door and steps inside the house, cluttered with boxes and garbage, sitting in the centre of the amassed pile of waste, that has obviously taken quite some time to achieve, is Damon, he turns in his wheelchair and looks the man up and down.

    “Marcus?”

    “Yes,” he replies as he walks towards Damon and stretches out his hand to initiate a handshake, Damon backs away.

    “So, how full of bullshit was your ad?”

    “As we discussed over the phone, there is no ‘bullshit’ as you say, to my advertisement, what I offer is real. All it requires is the preliminary questionnaire to be answered and based on the answers you supply, I either grant you what I promise or I leave and that is that.”

    “Sounds too simple to be true.”

    “The great things always are, now is there any where I can sit?”

    “Take your pick?” Damon replies as he gestures forwards with his hands around the room. “As you can see, I don’t have any need for chairs, and I never have any guests.”

    “Then, I will stand,” Marcus replies as he places his briefcase at his feet and opens it, pulling out a small tablet. “This will only take a few minutes to complete, and as long as you answer the questions truthfully I will be able to assess your request correctly and give you an answer once the questioner is complete.”

    “Doesn’t this answer all your questions,” Damon says as he pulls a floppy, frail leg up from his wheelchair and shakes it towards Marcus.

    “Sadly, your disability does not instantly gain you access to our product, you must meet other guidelines before an assessment can be made.”

    “Fine, ask your questions, but you better not be wasting my time.”

    “As should you, remember, you called me,” Marcus says as he presses several buttons on the tablets surface. “Let’s begins, why did you contact me?”

    “Because of your classifieds ad, are all the questions going to be like this?”

    “Yes, but that’s not the answer, that’s the result, why did the advertisement appeal to you?”

    “Because you offered to cure this,” Damon says as he shakes his leg around again.

    “That is not what the advertisement stated.”

    “Of course it did, you put an ad in the paper saying your offering one free wish, which can be any wish you desire, that’s what you’re saying to me, or is that outside the realms of your abilities?”

    “Nothing is outside my abilities, how did you end up in the wheelchair?”

    “I was involved in a head on collision with a truck, I wasn’t wearing my seat belt and was thrown sixteen meters from the car into a sail that ran alongside the road, it shattered by back and pelvis, leaving me stuck in this piece of shit since then.”

    “When was that?”

    “Nineteen eighty-eight, how am I doing?”

    “Can you tell me what your life is like now?”

    “This is my life,” he says gesturing around the room.

    “When was the last time you left this house?”

    “Nineteen eighty-eight.”

    “When was the last time you had sexual relations with another human being?”

    “Two hours ago.”

    “How did this occur?”

    “Excuse me?”

    “Obviously they came here, how did you meet them?”

    “It was online, no one ever comes here.”

    “I don’t follow?”

    “I jerked off while watching some chick fingered herself in front of a camera for money, is that clearer for you?”

    “Yes, of course, do you have full use of your extremities?”

    “What? Do you mean does my dick get hard?”

    “Yes.”

    “What sort of fucking questions are these?”

    “These are the questions you need to answer to satisfy me.”

    “No, OK, it needs help.”

    “Pills?”

    “Seriously?”

    “Do you want your wish to be grated or do you want me to leave now before we complete the questions, remember Damon this relies on your honesty.”

    “Pills ok, lots and lots of fucking pills.”

    “I see your house is littered with technology, is this how you interact with the outside world?”

    “Yes.”

    “I have a proposition for you, I will dispense with the remaining questions and grant your request if you come and sit with me outside for two minutes?”

    “I can’t do that?”

    “Why not, there would be no more questions, you would have your wish, what is not to appreciate in that offer?”

    “I suffer from Agoraphobia, I can’t leave the fucking house, so just finish your questions.”

    “OK, that is unfortunate. Well answer this one then, if I was to grant you one wish, what would it be?”

    “Another hundred,” Damon replies quickly with a smile.

    “This is the last question, please if you will not take this seriously then I’ll have no option but to decline you’re request for our product.”

    “It’s fucking obvious isn’t it, I want to use my fucking legs.”

    “So if given the chance you would wish the accident never happened?”

    “Yes, of course I would, that accident ruined my life, I’d give anything to go back knowing what I know now, I’d change it all.”

    “Then we are complete,” Marcus says as he places the tablet back into his briefcase and pulls out a small vial of green liquid.

    “What’s that?”

    “This, is your wish, tonight, before you sleep, you must drink the entire contents of this vial and when you wake in the morning, your wish will be a reality.”

    “What’s it going to cost me?”

    “There is no monetary charge, that is not what this is all about, the only cost I take from you is your time today.”

    “You’re fucking joking? If this shit you’re sprouting is true, why the fuck are you giving it away?”

    “I never said I was giving it away, I just said there is no monetary cost,” Marcus says as he holds the vial out towards Damon, who quickly grabs it from him.

    “So that’s it, done, you don’t need anything else from me?”

    “Not today, I will however come and see you again in a weeks’ time, just to make sure everything is as you requested.”

    “Sure, sure, I look forward to it, now leave.”

    “Good day, Mister Welford.”

    “Yeah, good whatever, just leave,” Damon says as he stares intensely at the vial as Marcus leaves, for five or more minutes Damon sits there staring at the vial until finally he rips the lid from it and drinks the contents down quickly, it only takes a few moments for him to collapse back into his chair, unconscious.

     

    #

     

    Slowly, Damon opens his eyes, and for the first few moments he lies there, confused of his surroundings as everything from the day before slowly comes back to him like a sharp poker in the skull. He leaps up from his bed, and he stops.

    ‘Did I just leap?’ Damon looks down at his feet as they sit, firmly planted on the floor below him, and he wiggles his toes, amazed, and petrified at the same time. A smile grows on his face as tears of joy run down his cheeks.

    “That fucker was telling the truth!” He yells out as he runs out of his room and out into the adjacent hallway and then down into the lounge area, he looks around excitedly and once again confusion sets in, his computers are gone, in fact the whole room is different, or the same, or what it once was, he’s not sure at the beginning, until he sees the calendar on the wall.

    “Fuck me, this can’t be true, can it?” He says as he pulls the calendar down and he feels his anxiety build up, he then nervously walks towards the door and his hand clutches the handle, shaking in fear as panic begins to take over, he releases his grip on the handle and staggers backwards as everything slowly begins to close in on itself.

     

    TO BE CONTINUED

  • Day 03 – Lies Of A Broken World – Prologue

    Day 03 – Lies Of A Broken World – Prologue

    The bike cruises through the city streets like a hot knife through butter, sweat pours down his face and into his eyes, stinging them, and the helmet makes it impossible to wipe them away. He shoots around the corner with the bike on its side, and can feel the street bed brush past his knee as he leans into it and then pulls the bike upright and kicks it forward. The bikes dashboard lights up and it comes to a grinding halt as he launches himself off the bike and lands on the ground with both feet, pulling his enforcement blaster free from its holster. In the early days, when the domes were conceived, The United Federation outlawed the use of projectile weapons and introduced the Wasson Classed hard light blaster, these blasters operate using power cells that are converted into a hard-light, bullet like object that can scorch, shatter or eviscerate its target, depending on the setting programed by the user, he flicks his blaster to eviscerate and rushes towards an open doorway where the bodies of three district officers lie in pools of blood. He’s only within a few feet of the entrance when shots rip out of the doorway towards him, he frantically dives to the ground taking cover on the opposite side of the doorway and quickly fires back randomly inside.

    “Drop you’re fucking weapons and get the fuck out here with your hands in the air. If you refuse to cooperate I’ll have no option but to enter the building and hand out extreme judgment,” he yells.

    “Fuck you blue, we’re not coming out and you’re not coming in, fall the fuck back or we’ll waste every motherfucker inside!”

    He punches a few buttons on a wrist pad and a small holographic image appears, giving him a bird’s eye view of the interior, “Surveillance shows you’ve already done that, so once again, which way do you pieces of shit want to play this?”

    But he leaves them no time to react as he launches his assault, he’s quickly in the doorway and his first three shots all hit their targets square in the centre of their heads, the fourth member of the gang dives behind a counter for cover.

    “You’re fucking dead blue!” He screams out as he leaps from around the counter and fires randomly throughout the shop front, as the smoke clears nothing moves. He spits of wad of saliva onto the ground in front of him and smiles a sly, sneering smile. Then he feels it, the coldness of steel against his temple, his eyes dart sharply to the side and he stares into his eyes.

    “Bang!” he says as he pulls the trigger, removing half his head.

    The sound of approaching sirens make their way towards the building as he makes his way out through the doorway, the cruisers come to a skidding stop in front of him and officers quickly jump out of the vehicles, he puts his hands in the air, holding up his badge.

    “Sorry boys, you’re a bit late, the fun’s over.”

    “You were fucking told not to enter the building Jackson, there were hostages.”

    “I told you what you could do with your fucking orders, besides, the hostages were already wasted before I got on scene. I made a call and took the fuckers down, because let’s face it, ice was too good for those pieces of shit, so if you’ve got a problem with that you can go tell someone else, because I’m not listening.”

    “You think you’re so fu…..” but his sentence is cut short as Gary places his hand in the air and pulls out his ringing phone.

    “Jackson here?”

    “We’ve got another one,” the voice on the other end of the line says.

     

    END OF PROLOGUE

     

  • Day 02 – A Cold Cup Of Coffee – Short Story

    Day 02 – A Cold Cup Of Coffee – Short Story

    He sits there staring into his now cold cup of coffee, lost in a million different thoughts all at once. So lost in fact that he doesn’t notice the man enter the café until he is standing in front of him.

    “Hello? Is anyone in there?” the man says, Detective inspected Frank Clifford looks up from his coffee at the man.

    “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

    “In a roundabout way, I mean, I know more about you than you do about me.” The man says with a grin.

    “I’m not following, who are you?”

    “Kevin Stafford,” he says as he holds out his hand.

    “Stafford? The same piece of slime from the papers?”

    “The very same, I was…..” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Frank is to his feet in seconds and grabs him by the throat and slams him up against the café wall. The girl behind the counter stops in her tracks and stares in shock as does a customer who is sitting a few seats away.

    “What the fuck are you playing at you piece of shit? You write all that drivel about me in your little fucking column, and now you have the gall to show up here and what? Expected me to fucking answer your stupid fucking questions?” he says as he shakes Stafford vigorously, slamming him against the wall several times.

    “That’s no-not why I-I’m here,” Stafford stammers.

    “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested in,” he says as he throws Stafford to the floor. “Fuck off before I give you what you deserve, you little shit.”

    “Two minutes, that’s all I want,” Stafford says as he slowly gets to his feet. “Please, two minutes and I’m gone, you have my word.”

    “You want two minutes, well I’ve got your two minutes right here,” Frank says as he grabs his crotch. “Fuck off.”

    “I know the identity of the Skinner,” Stafford says quickly.

    “Bullshit, why come to me with this when you could publish it in your daily piece of shit paper, aren’t you all about sales and shit?”

    “Because he knows I know, I’m afraid and you’re the only one who can help me.”

    “Why the fuck should I care? You called me, and I’m quoting your words here, ‘an ineffective tool in the shed that should be thrown in the bin and replaced with a new, more appropriate weapon,’ those were your words dip shit, so tell me again why I should help you?”

    “Look, I’m under the pump, just like you, and my editor wants sensationalised news, he wants to sell papers just like you pointed out, and I want a job, so I fluff shit up for the readers,” Stafford says. “But you need to know this, you need to stop him, only you can do it, come on, how long has he been out there now, eight months and what, seventy-victims have found themselves beneath his blade. I can help you, I can give you everything, and you can stop it all.”

    “There are ten to twenty other guys on the force who are just as good, if not better than me. Fuck, if I’m honest I’d agree with your column, I’m old, done, I can’t stop this prick, he’s just too many steps ahead.”

    “Then fucking let me talk instead of wasting time.”

    “Two minutes is all you get, after that you can leave me the fuck alone to finish my coffee in peace.”

    “Deal,” Stafford says as they both sit back down at the table, Stafford pulls a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and places it on the table and slides it over to Frank. “Everything you want is on that piece of paper, the name of your killer, why he’s doing it and when he’ll strike next.”

    “Bullshit,” Frank says as he grabs the paper, Stafford places his hand on Frank’s, holding the paper down.

    “Once you read it, once you know, you can’t go back, you understand?”

    “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Frank says as he wrestles his hand free and opens the folded piece of paper, he flips it over and then flips it again. “Is this some kind of joke?” Franks says as he looks up from the blank piece of paper into the empty chair across from him.

    “What the fuck does that mean?” he says as he slams a fist down onto the table, his cup jumps from the table and crashes back down, spilling half its contents. “Now look what you made me do, get out! Get the fuck out!” he yells, and then silence follows and he takes another sip of his cold cup of coffee, his hand covered in dried blood, scratch marks run down his face and the bodies of his victims laid scattered around the small café. The sounds of sirens scream from outside as the walls begin to close in on the Skinner and his final victims, and he still just sits there, lost in a million different thoughts all at once.

     

    END

  • Day 01 – One Love – Short Story

    Day 01 – One Love – Short Story

    He swings the shovel violently towards the two men, and blood and dirt flicks off the blade and splashes into the wet ground with the rain.

    “I told you to go, I won’t tell you again!” He yells.

    “Samuel, son, for fuck sake, she gone, it’s not her anymore. You have to let us do what must be done, you’re endangering everyone with your stupidity!” his father yells back as he avoids the shovels blade as Samuel swings it violently towards him again.

    “You’re wrong, you’re all wrong, she’s still in there, I can see it, just leave us alone!”

    “We can’t do it, this is for the best little brother, and I hope someday you will see that!” His brother yells as he charges at him and they both go crashing into the ground. Seeing the opportunity his father makes a mad dash for the door as the two struggle in the mud, two shots ring out in the house and then silence and they both freeze. Samuel pushes himself free and scrambles to his feet and charges frantically towards the door, when a scream erupts from inside that forces him to come to a stop, not her scream, but his fathers. He stands in the door way as his brother rushes to his side and a sea of red gushes from within and covers the two brothers.

    For a few moments they both stand there in silence, frozen in fear and then Samuel’s brother lets out a cry of anger and runs into the house, Samuel stands there as he hears his brother’s cries get louder, changing from anger to pain in mere seconds, and then only the sound of the rain remains until it starts, the chewing, the tearing, the ripping. He looks up into the bleak night sky and lets the rain envelope him in its vacuum of violence, hiding the tears that runs down his face, and he collapses to his knees. He looks towards the doorway, into the darkness of the house and he hears it again, and he gets to his feet and reaches into the door way and pulls a control pole from around the corner as he slowly makes his way into the room.

    “It’s ok honey, time to go back to bed, you’re still not looking the best,” he says to her, her face covered in blood, her once soft blue eyes now a cloud of grey, with only a hint of colour. She growls at him and rushes forward, but he manages to manoeuvre the noose of the control pole over her head and quickly tightens it down, pushing her back against the wall.

    “Now come on honey, you know I need to clean this mess up, we don’t want any of these two coming back to cause us problems like the last ones did.” She grunts furiously at him, and he forces her towards a stairway that leads up to the next leave of the house. She fights him the whole way, hissing, spitting and growling at him, but he keeps his eye contact with her all the while and only smiles.

    “I know honey, its OK, I know. It’s time, I just need to get it all ready,” he says calmly as he forces her down a dimly lit hallway, towards a room at its end. “You just get some sleep, and when you wake I’ll have it all ready, I promise.”

    She stops fighting him and stands there, staring at him, her head tilts to its side as if for a second she understands his words and then lunges forward again aggressively. He shoves her into the room where an open cage sits in its center. They struggle back and forth for a few moments as both of them try to gain the upper hand, but his determination wins out as he give her one last almighty push and she goes tumbling backwards. Quickly he releases the noose from around her neck as she crashes into the cage, and he slams the door shut behind her. Instantly she lunges forward, trying to grab at him, banging ferociously on the cage as he locks the padlocks in place. Once all of them are locked he throws a blanket over the cage and collapses against the opposing wall, wiping the blood, sweat and dirt from his face, and that’s when he hears a murmur from down stairs followed moments later by movement. He forces himself to his feet, and tightly grips the handle of the control pole as he rushes downstairs, before him stands his father, blood dripping from his torn face, his jaw hanging from his skull, held in place by fatty tissue and flesh, he gargles and lets out a low growl. Samuel drives the control pole down upon his head viciously and knocks him to the floor, leaping over the reanimated corpse of his father he makes a mad dash for the shovel that leans up against the door way, he spins around as his father tries to get to his feet and drives the shovel down into his skull several times until it’s nothing but a mushy pile of bones and blood. He feels something brush against his leg as his brother violently begins to spasm on the floor, Samuel does not allow a moment to think of what he is about to do, for what he has already done, and drives the shovel down upon his brothers skull as well, he rests again, tears streaming down his face.

     

    #

     

    The candles burn brightly in the room as he places the cassette tape into the player and presses play, the upbeat, soft rock song begins to play and muffles the sound of the rain striking against the roof violently. He places a hand on the blanket and quickly pulls it off. She lets out a volatile hiss as she shakes the cage violently, and he just sits in front of it and smiles at her.

    “Remember this song?” he says as he removes one of the padlocks from the cage door. “God it seems like it was a life time ago, all the crazy stuff that happened when we first met. I mean seriously, it was rough from what I remember, your Dad hated me, your Mum tried to hit on me, and so did your brother,” he says with a laugh as he removes another of the pad locks. “They’re never going to let us be alone, they’re never going to back off, and I’m tired honey, I can’t keep this fight up anymore. I’ve killed so many people, people I loved, you love, and I’ve done it all for you,” he says as a tear runs down his face as he removes the final pad lock and the door swings open. “Let’s live this life together, like we planned,” he says as he holds out his arm towards her, turning his head away in preparation. Softly and slowly she takes hold of his hand and he turns to face her, they sit there for a few moments, looking into each others eyes as their song plays its final few chords.

     

    END

  • Lets gets this journey started!

    Lets gets this journey started!

    So I decided to do something silly, something insane, to help fulfill many things within my brain and within myself. I decided to challenge myself to not only write more often but to get what I write out there, and so today, Friday the 13th (I know, spooky right) I begin my daily blog, my daily vomit of ideas that spin violently around in my head and never escape, their door is open to the world.

    What are these ideas, do they have a road that they will inevitably travel to?

    I have no answer, all I have for that questions is this answer,  I just want to get these ideas out of my head, I want to explore them, well some of them. To be honest within this textured world of insanity lies my true self, my true passion, my true story, one I have been working my way through for years, one that I will share pieces of with you many times, over the next 365 days. But not all will be this one world, this one theme, some ideas will be what they are and stay that way, a mess of words on the screen, and others will develop, change, become more sometime, in the future.

    So why not join me in this venture, let me know if a story works for you and if you want to know more, or of you think it’s trash, honestly there will be trash and auto-corrected travesties left and right, but the nature and intent of this exercise will not be lost. So come and sit with me a while and lets see what happens.

    Matt