Category: Short Story

Bludgeon the Story

He pulls the hammer back, blood dripping from its face, and brings it down onto the man’s head. Blood sprays from the impact point, and the man poorly attempts to shield his face. Once more, he pulls back, and again drives it into his skull.

“Fix that one, handyman.”

“DEREK! M-My GOD! What’ve you DONE?”

He turns around, shocked. “F-Fi-Fiona, I thought you’d gone?”

“I-I-I forgot my phone and came back to get it.”

“It’s not what it looks like! I can explain everything!” he says, scrambling to his feet. He drops the hammer in the process and rushes toward Fiona.

“I don’t want to know, just stay away from me!” she says, thrusting her palms toward him in a futile attempt to keep him away. He grabs hold of her wrists, gripping them tightly and pulling her close.

“It’s too late for that. You need to listen to what I’ve got to say, I need you to. I can’t let you walk out—not after seeing this,” he says, foam forming at the corners of his mouth. His eyes dart wildly around their sockets. “You have to listen to me. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to do something to you that I won’t be proud of. Not that I’m proud of this,” he adds, glancing over his shoulder at the mangled body.

“P-Please, D-D-Derek, don’t do this. I promise I won’t tell anyone, I swear!” she pleads, tears streaming down her face.

“I can’t take that chance. I have to know I can trust you. If not… well, I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? What the fuck are you trying to say?”

“Really? Am I gonna have to spell it out for you? I’m gonna kill you. Is that what you want to hear?”

“WHY! DEREK, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” she screams, struggling to free herself from his grip. He squeezes harder and pulls her to the ground, driving a knee into her throat.

“He was making me look bad—fixing everything, laughing about it, making jokes with everyone. It was like he did it on purpose. So I decided to confront him. That was all. It was never meant to go the way it did. I just wanted him to stop,” he says, wiping tears from his face. “He laughed at me, told me to grow up, to take it like a man. Then he said, ‘If you can’t fix your wife, I’m happy to help with that too.’ That’s when I lost it. I grabbed the hammer and hit him. At first, he just sort of shrugged it off, called me a cunt. Then I hit him again. And I kept hitting him until he was dead.”

“I-I-I believe you, Derek, I really do,” she whispers softly. “Can you let me up now?”

“I’m sorry, Fiona,” he says, biting his bottom lip as he looks down at her. “But I’ve got no choice,” he says, pulling back the hammer and driving it downwards.

Tired of Your Nuances

The axe slices through the piece of wood, sending two even pieces tumbling to the ground. He rubs his hands together before tightly hugging himself. She laughs as she places another piece on the tree stump, now a chopping block.

“Cold?” she asks.

“Don’t avoid the question. It’s like this: first, you say you want to be a partner, and now you say you don’t. Which is it? Because Watson wants this sorted by the end of the day, and once you make a choice, it’s permanent.”

“I told you no. I told you that when you called me last week. I told you that when you emailed me two days ago. And I’ll tell you one more time: I’m not interested. Watson can go to hell for all I care, and you can too. I’m done with all that shit. I just want to be left alone out here and, hopefully, get some sleep,” she says as she swings the axe, sending it powerfully through the piece of wood.

“You know he’s not going to be satisfied with that answer. Why don’t you come back home, back to the city, and we can talk this out. We—I—I don’t want to lose you.”

She laughs. “Peter, you’re so sweet, but I’m not coming back. I’m not taking the position. And we… we never had anything between us. That night, that one moment of weakness,” she says as she places another piece of wood on its end and raises the axe, staring him dead in the eyes. “That night was a mistake!” She swings the axe swiftly through the air and strikes the piece of wood, splitting it in half.

“Don’t be like that,” he says as he steps toward her. She sets another piece of wood up, and as she raises the axe, he places a photo on the piece of wood. Her eyes widen, and she looks at him. He stands there with a smug smile on his face. “I think you need to reassess your answer.”

She swings the axe, diverting her aim at the last moment, and it strikes him in the stomach. He screams in pain and falls to his knees, staring up at her as she raises the axe above her head.

“Where is he?”

“P-P-PLEASE!”

“Where is he? I won’t ask again.”

“Please, Kathryn, don’t do it. We have so much—”

“Oh, Peter, I’m tired. So please, shut the fucking hell up!” she yells as she brings the axe down upon his head. The blade tears its way into his skull, and he drops instantly to the ground in a quivering, bloody heap. She places a boot on his shoulder for leverage and tries to pull the axe free. The coldness of steel against her throat instantly makes her stop in her tracks. She feels his warm breath on the back of her neck.

“Hello, Kathryn. Nice to see you haven’t lost your touch.”

“Hello, Watson. I’ve been waiting for you,” she says with a smile.

Wanting Variations

He feels something tear into his stomach, the pain unbearable. He tries to scream, but a strong hand grips his mouth, forcing it closed. He feels a warm breath against the side of his face, and a slow hiss builds next to his left ear.

“Hello, Jacob. I missed you,” a voice hisses. He feels a wetness against the side of his face as the hand forces itself into his mouth, stretching it open like the opening of a balloon. He gags and struggles for breath, vomiting up the contents of his stomach.

“Really, after all this time, this is how you greet my return? With the putrid remains of that which you have ingested? I thought better of you,” the voice hisses, tossing Jacob to the ground.

He coughs violently, spitting the remnants of vomit from his mouth.

“W-W-W-What do you want? Our deal is over! I upheld what you asked of me years ago. Why come back now?” Jacob bellows, his eyes clouded by tears as he searches the room.

“There has been a much-needed variation to our agreement, and I have come to collect my payment.”

“What variation? That wasn’t part of the deal! I did what you asked. I soaked my hands in the blood of those I held dear for the pittance you rewarded me with. What else can you come calling for? I have nothing left to give you.”

The voice laughs. “Of course you have, that is the variation. It has come to light that you somehow misconstrued the payment of our original deal. My many underlings have, to my delight, brought forth information that you deliberately orchestrated the removal of a child from the payment arrangement. This child—your child, as it turns out—has somehow come before one of my many outsourced service providers requesting assistance with a bitterness harboured deep within their pitiful form. It seems the child was cast out, disowned you might say, into the cold and left to fend for themselves. After years of bouncing within the inefficient systems you humans have in place, this child found haven in a new home, one that has been revealed by my people to be indirectly funded by one of your sub-companies. The child knows none of this yet, for I am sure it would cause issue with the agreement she is at this very moment brokering with my firm.”

“Y-Y-You have to under—”

The voice laughs again. “I don’t need to understand anything. Your child must die, Jacob, or you will lose everything. This arrangement is non-negotiable. You have twelve hours, or I will take it all. But I should also warn you, in three hours she will have signed a deal that requires your soul as payment. So, tick-tock goes the clock, Jacob, tick-tock goes the clock,” the voice says as Jacob’s eyes widen as they lock with its glowing red eyes.

“I-I-I-I, I don’t even know where to start. Help me, please. I don’t want to lose everything.”

“Maybe you should’ve kept a better eye on your wayward child. All things come back to haunt us, my dear boy. And honestly, I wouldn’t worry about losing all this. I’d worry more about losing your life than all these worthless trinkets you cannot take with you.”

Be My Skinner

“You’ve got to get up, Cassie! You have to! He’s coming! Please, Cassie! Please!” she screams as she tries to get Cassie to her feet, but Cassie is beyond help. Her eyes stare blankly off into the darkness, and her once bright orange skin continues to slowly turn a muddy shade of grey.

“What a pity. I was hoping it was going to be a two-for-one sort of thing,” a voice says from the darkness. She spins around, terrified, tears streaming down her face. She tightly grips the knife in her hand and rises to her feet.

“FUCK YOU!” she screams.

“Come now, haven’t we already done that?”

“If I could take it back, I would. You make me SICK! You’re nothing but a vile piece of gutter trash that somehow managed to survive when you should’ve…” She doesn’t get to finish her tirade as the blade digs into her side. She feels the pain; blood runs quickly down her side, and a powerful bout of dizziness comes over her.

“Bitches be bitching. But you, sister, you bore me. Even when you’re sleeping, you bore me. You bore me most of all when you call to him. That’s right, I hear you praying, begging, wanting forgiveness, even though you know there is none,” he says as he grabs her by the breast, squeezing, biting her neck. She squirms in pain as she tries to force him away. He laughs, then lets her crash to the ground as he wipes his mouth of her blood with his sleeve. “What? You don’t want to reminisce about old times?”

“W-W-We are diff-d-d-different, you and I. We always were,” she says softly as she stretches her arm out towards Cassie’s hand and grips it tightly.

“That’s her fault. When she arrived, everything changed—you changed. But I, I stayed the same. I watched as you took everything wonderful about our world and destroyed it. All the while, skipping around merrily with that bitch. You should be ashamed of the things you two did, things that were never meant to be done between two of the same flesh. But you did it, you spat in your god’s eye with your sins.”

“SHUT UP!” she yells, tightening her hands into fists, clenching her teeth together. She draws all the energy she has remaining in her body and brings herself to her knees. “You are the one—you are the damaged. You are the unwell. I found happiness, acceptance, and love, while you—you just hated. I was happy—couldn’t you have left me that way?”

“No,” he says softly. “No, I could not.”

“Why?”

“Because. Because I didn’t want you to be. Because I wanted you to be with me, not her. And when you refused me, I knew she had to die, and if so, you shall as well.”

“T-Then, what will happen to you?”

“I—I will continue on, I—”

“No, you won’t,” Cassie says as she drives the blade through his chest. He looks at his sister, and a single tear runs down his face, followed by a sharp pain as his head is severed from his neck.

Power to Corrupt

“Consider this matter over! If you darken my door again or I hear from anyone about this bile spewing from your mouth, I’ll do more than show you the door! Do you understand?”

“B-B-B-But, s-s-she’s your daughter, you can’t jus—”

“I can do whatever I wish, whenever I wish! You have no rule or rhyme over this place or my design, Hannah. I am the master here. I rule over all, and I will bury anything that threatens what I hold dear to my heart. Which, if you didn’t know, is my power. So go, leave me be, wench, or I will make you bleed out before me.”

“You can’t do this. You can’t be so cold. I know you, I know you care for—”

She backhands her across the face, sending her to the floor in a heap. “Sister, I have given you all that you have, all that you’ve ever had. Do not bite my hand, for it will bite back. Go! Before I grow tired of this pathetic display of narcissism.”

Slowly, Hannah picks herself up from the floor, pressing a hand firmly against the right side of her face. “What happened to you?”

She laughs. “What happened to you, dear sister? That is what you should be asking. We were both forged to be part of this world, to rule over its pathetic inhabitants. I have ascended to my rightful place. Where have you risen to?”

“There is always a mirror, dear sister, a mirror to show you what you are, and what you could be.”

She laughs again. “Are you saying I should look at you and see what I could be? How vile a thought. You are the one who has chosen a path not worthy of what we are. We were born to be greatness. What you are is gutter trash.”

“I am purity, like your daughters. Let them come with me, let them be who they are meant to be. Let me show you how we can be better than anything you could ever believe we could be.”

She strides to Hannah’s side and grips her by the wrist, wrenching her arm forward to display the sleeve of tattoos that adorn it.

“These are symbols of who we are; they are the tapestry of our blood. My children will see theirs grow, as ours have. They will be adorned with them, as you should be, as I am. Go from here, live your pathetic life for them, and never darken my doorway again—or that of my children. For the next time I see you, it will be the last,” she says, thrusting her away.

“The next time you see me, I will show you the error of what you have become.”

She laughs loudly. “Are you, the supposed goddess of the people, threatening me?”

“You know me better than that, sister. I do not threaten anyone; I only give them a promise.”

“Then promise all you want. For when the day comes, I will take all you are and bathe my children in it,” she says proudly.

“If that will be the result, so let it be. But dear sister, if I were you, I’d sleep with one eye open, for when I come for you, there will be no escaping my wrath,” Hannah says as she disappears in an explosion of darkness.

Lies Sink Ships

“I-I-I, I NEED MORE TIME!” Sammy yells.

“I’ve given you more time than any other moment you’ve ever been given, Sammy. I don’t think I can give you any more, not now, not ever. Give me an answer, pluck it out of the air for all I care, but give me one!”

“RED! The colour of Luca’s shirt was red!” he yells.

Silence follows for a few moments before Sammy feels the blade of the knife cut through his finger, and he screams in agony.

“So close. So very, very close. But his shirt was orange. Brian’s shirt was red, Sammy, remember?”

“FUCK YOU!” Sammy yells.

“Please, Sammy, when you undertook this research position, you did promise that the language would be kept to a minimum. Yelling out horrid words such as ‘fuck’ is frowned upon by the people who pay my wages. So if you could keep to the agreement and refrain from such toilet language, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“T-T-T-This wasn’t what I signed up for! I want out! I WANT OUT!”

He smiles. “That is totally understandable; you have suffered several failures already,” he says, nodding towards Sammy’s bloody hand.

“THEN LET ME OUT!” Sammy screams, his face flushed, veins sticking up across his forehead and neck.

“Of course, just give me the safe word,” he says with a smile.

“S-S-S-Safe word?” Sammy stutters.

“Yes, the safe word. Surely you remember that it was all part of the contract you signed. To gain early release, you must be able to recite the safe word. Failure to do so will result in you forfeiting a question.”

“W-W-What the fuck does that mean, forfeit a question?”

He smiles. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Sammy stares at him in panic and down at his mutilated hand.

“So, do you know the safe word, or do I continue on to the next question?”

Sammy’s lips tremble as his mind searches through its memories. Visualising the contract, he feverishly reads through it until he comes to a six-letter word that causes him to breathe a sigh of relief.

“POPPER!” Sammy yells out proudly, darting a look of defiance towards him as his smile fades from his face. “Now let me the FUCK OUT!”

“Popper?” The man repeats as he runs a trembling hand through his hair, giggling softly to himself.

“You heard me. POPPER is the safe word, right? It has to be!”

“POPPER!” The man screams as he erupts into fits of laughter. “POPPER!” he yells again before grabbing Sammy by the hair and pulling his head back, stretching his neck out. He then lightly runs the blade across it. “Popper is not the safe word, Sammy. But it was a good try,” he says, chopping the blade down like an axe and slicing off another finger, causing Sammy to scream out in agony again.

“Three chances down, Sammy!” he says as he slithers over him like a snake and hisses in his ear. “How many more can you afford to lose?”

“F-F-FUCK YOU!” Sammy screams back in defiance.

“So, should we try the next question?” he says, smiling as he places the knife’s blade against Sammy’s index finger. “Or do you want to try for the safe word again?”

Cold Cup

“How many times do I have to tell you? How many times do I have to explain how this works? How many conversations must we have until you understand what you have to do?” she yells into the deserted room. Her face twists with inexplicable anger, her eyes darting around the room as if she were following a balloon that had sprung a leak and was carelessly flying all over the place as it deflates.

“It’s not what I asked for,” she yells. “We each had a role that was vital to the others, when one falls, we all fall. Now we just look like a bunch of bloody idiots!” Her eyes widen and her cheeks go red. “How dare you try to blame me; my planning was not to be faulted. If everyone….” She glances over her shoulder and tightly clenches her hands into fists. “You stay where you are, this is far from over! I will not be left here to look the fool while you run away unscathed!” Her mouth drops open in surprise, her eyes glaze over, and the blood runs from her cheeks.

“B-B-But, that wasn’t the deal,” she says softly. “What do you mean the deal’s changed? It can’t change, I made it. I’m the only one who can c…. What are you doing?” Suddenly, she lifts into the air and is thrown across the room. Screaming in agony, she hits the wall with a devastating impact and crashes to the ground in a heap. Slowly, she pulls herself onto all fours, groaning in pain as an ever-growing pool of blood forms beneath her.

“W-W-Why?” she says softly as she collapses into unconsciousness. When she next opens her eyes, there is no pain. She looks around the room while they stand there, watching her from the shadows. She looks up at the tall, naked man who stands in front of her. He smiles as he holds out a hand to help her to her feet.

“Welcome home, my love,” he says. “I’m sorry you had to come home sooner than expected, but sometimes a deal must be changed for the betterment of all.”

Happens Every Day

“A wet dream’s nightmare, that’s what I’d call that!” Emerson says, laughing hysterically as he can no longer hold it in.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh! You promised!”

“Yeah, and you said you’d tell me a story I wouldn’t believe. Seems like we both lied; shit like that happens every day!”

“Seriously? You think stuff like this happens every day?”

“Sure, I’ve seen it at least twice so far this week, and I haven’t left the house for over a month, except for today of course,” Emerson says, flashing a mouthful of rotten teeth.

“Bullshit!”

“What, you calling me a liar now, French-Fry?”

“Yes, I fucking am! Things do not happen like this every day! This is, like, so not everyday shit!”

“Right, you just stay over there and keep telling yourself that, while I keep myself over here in reality.”

“I knew you’d be a dick about all this. GOD! I don’t even know why I came to you about it.”

Emerson leans forward and squints his eyes, smiling a thin, pursed smile. “You came to me because I’m the only crazy motherfucker around here who’d believe the shit that’s running from your mouth right now, that’s why!” he says, leaning back proudly and crossing his arms across his chest.

Stuart sits there staring at Emerson for a few moments before his shoulders drop and his face relaxes. “I guess.”

“Good, accepting that I’m not only on top of the list, but that I AM the list, is a perfect place to start.”

“What do you mean start?”

“Well, you came to me with this crazy arsed story about your next-door neighbour being a vampire, you must have some end result planned.”

“End result?”

“Yeah, like what the fuck do you want to do about the old blood sucker?”

“Do about him?”

“Yeah, that’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

“I-I-I, I think you got confused partway through the story,” Stuart says as his lip trembles nervously.

“Confused? How confused is you rushing to my house, demanding to be let in, and then telling me this almost unbelievable story about how your next-door neighbour is a vampire and he threatened to turn you into one if you told anyone?”

“See there, that’s the spot you’re confused.”

“What, he didn’t threaten you?”

“Oh no, he did threaten me, just not if I told anyone, only if I told you.”

“Told me? Why just me?”

“Seems the old hag has something hard in his basement for you. The old fucker couldn’t stop talking about you. He said you had something to do with the death of his daughters.”

Emerson’s eyes widen with surprise as his mouth slowly opens, his trembling fingers moving to his lips. “Voight,” he whispers.

“That’s him, I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you didn’t forget his name.”

“W-W-W-What ar…” he stops mid-sentence as the last hour rushes before his eyes, the panicked knock on the door as Stuart desperately pleads for him to let him in. The hiss of his voice. The twisted smile. The dark rings under his eyes. The paleness of his skin, all these things and many others he initially mistook as fear. Slowly his eyes come to rest upon Stuart’s neck, and the puncture marks. His eyes travel up the dark veins that run along his throat, past his toothy smile, and come to a stop upon his red, bloodshot eyes.

“He wanted you to realise before I killed you that it was him who did all this,” Stuart says.

“You’re half right, but only about him wanting me to know it was him,” he says, as he feels the tears well up.

Slide Down the Slippery Slope

“Well, haven’t you fucked the monkey on this one?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? It wasn’t my fault. I was forced into it. I only wanted to talk to her, really, I did. I never meant to, to…”

“What, stab her sixty-seven times? Bullshit! Don’t lie to me. You know it makes me sick when you do it. Like you somehow expect me to believe you when you don’t even try to sound convincing.”

“SHUT UP! Y-Y-You know I didn’t want to do it. You know the bitch forced my hand. FUCK! I can’t even believe I’m sitting here trying to talk my way out of this, with you!”

“That’s because you know you’ve fucked up, and there’s no way out. It’s a goddamn mess. You’re a mess. Everything’s been a mess, always has been since you first saw her.”

“B-B-Bullshit! Don’t make out you didn’t have a role in all this. Don’t make out you’re Mr. Innocent,” he yells, looking across the room towards him. “You know it wasn’t always like this. I-I-I knew if I could just make this work, it’d fix everything I’d done wrong, and maybe then she’d forgive me,” he says as he stares at the dark, red, sticky, wet blood while it drips from his hands.

“Maybe your first mistake was killing her? Actually, that was your second mistake. Your first mistake was coming here to try and talk to her, or did you always have only one intention?”

“Kelly was in the way of everything, twisting Fiona’s thoughts and making it look like I was the one causing problems. Making it look like I was the bad guy when it was her all the time.”

“It’s going to be pretty hard proving it now. I mean, look at what you just did. I don’t want to be sour about it all—I know the work you put into this—but fuck, you went postal on that bitch. Off-the-wall postal! So do you really think there’s anywhere else left to go but down from here?”

“We could bury the body?”

“Hey, take a step back there, Hannibal Lecter. What makes you think I want to be your Clarice?”

“Seriously? What the fuck sort of analogy is that? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to say Will instead of Clarice?”

“I’m a purist. I prefer Clarice to Will. The TV show went too far, fucking with our conceptions of their relationship. Fuller twisted the fuck out of what I loved about the original books and movies. Anyway, who doesn’t love Anthony Hopkins?”

“You’re crazy. The movies? The Lambs was great, I’ll say that, but seriously, Hannibal and Red Dragon? They ruined the series. Recasting was the first fuck-up, and then terrible storytelling the second. Fuller gave the world a whole new coat of paint, made it vibrant, intense. It was next-level stuff. I can’t believe you’d prefer the shit movie series. The TV show was almost like real life compared to them.”

“I can see how you would say that. Looking at your handiwork here, I’d almost think you were auditioning for the new season.”

“Fuck you. Who asked you to come along and offer your opinions anyway?”

“It’s not like I could’ve stayed at home or anything, genius.”

“Yeah, okay, valid point. But for the sake of argument, can you just agree with me from time to time?”

“Don’t think I can do that. I mean, why would they call me a conscience if I didn’t offer criticism of what you’ve done or are about to do?”

Boxindul

“I guess you want me to start at the beginning?”

“Is that where you want to start?”

“Not really, but I think you need to know something, an overview, so you can see how we ended up here.”

“Well, then tell me, how did it all start?” he asks, leaning back in his seat.

“When Jenny found the box.”

“Where did she find it?”

“It was in her locker, just sitting there.”

“So you’re saying someone unlocked her locker, placed this box in there, and locked it again. Is that right?”

“That’s what she said, and before you ask, yes, I believed what she said. I was with her most of the day. If it was in there in the morning, she would’ve said something. So it must’ve happened later.”

“Okay, so what happened next, after she found the box?”

“Well, we didn’t know what to do. We thought maybe it could’ve been a bomb or something worse, so we left it there until we had time to think.”

“So you thought about it and then what? You decided you should just open it?”

“Well yeah, I mean, Jenny had no enemies, everyone loved her, and I honestly can’t think of anyone who would target her, to kill everyone else.”

“So tell me what happened after you opened the box?”

“There was nothing inside it, it was empty, or at least that’s what we thought at first. It looked that way, but that somehow changed when she threw it in the bin and then some weird light started going off. We looked in and the box seemed different, like it was I don’t know, it’s going to sound crazy if I say it out loud.”

“Try me, you’d be surprised what I believe.”

“Well,” he says leaning across the table. “Well, it seemed alive.”

“What, the box?”

“Yeah, it was. It was strange, like it was actually a living breathing thing, see,” he says, collapsing into his chair. “It sounds nuts. I mean, how could it be?”

“What happened next?”

“We fished it out of the bin and decided to get it to Mister Winters, our science teacher. He’s pretty cool, and we thought if anyone had a chance at knowing what it was, it was Mister Winters.”

“But everything didn’t go to plan, did it?”

“Of course not, that’s why you’re here, right?”

“Sort of, we’re here to determine what the next manoeuvre will be. Now, what happened to Jenny?”

“As soon as Mister Winters saw the box, he wet himself, like he knew what it was. Jenny saw her chance, so she tried to get the fuck out of dodge. That’s when the box grew those teeth, and the next thing I know she’s missing a chunk of flesh from her throat, convulsing on the ground in front of me choking on her own blood.”

“So what, you just stood back and watched while this happened?”

“I had no choice, I was holding the fucking thing, and it wouldn’t let me do anything.”

“Right, then what happened?”

“Well, that’s when Mister Winters started going on about some cursed box thing and told me all the stories that were going around school about him were true. How he was a homosexual wizard, and the box was a creature called a Boxindul. He said the Boxindul needed to be banished before it hurt anyone else, so he started mumbling something I couldn’t understand, waved his wand around. I swear I didn’t see him pull it from anywhere, and as he brought it down to finish the spell, this Boxindul thing launched itself from my hands and attacked him. There was nothing I could do, he died a hero saving us all I bet.” he says, looking up at him, tears in his eyes.

“Okay, I think you’ve answered all the questions we have at this stage,” he says, as he slowly gets up from his seat.

“So, I’m good to go?”

He sucks in a quick breath through clenched teeth and screws his face up, “I think there might be a problem with that.”

“What? Why? I’ve told you everything, I swear!”

“I know you have, it’s just that the video footage we have shows us a different account of what happened. One that doesn’t involve this Boxindul, just you, and the two victims.”

Resow Your Seed

“Somewhere within all this insanity, the truth will come out. You know that, don’t you, Mother?”

“I stopped being your Mother the day they cut you from my womb,” she hisses viciously back at him.

“You don’t know how disappointed I am with those words. The longing I’ve yearned for all these years is so close at hand, yet all you do is dismiss these feelings, these emotions I feel as if they are nothing but the pathetic whimpering of a child. Your sin will be born anew, Mother, and we will be as one, as a family should be.”

“No such thing will take place. I’d rather die than be anything more than the vessel that bore you to this world.”

His face ever so slightly twists, his eyes tighten, and his hands clench into tightly constructed fists. “There was a time when your words would’ve cut me in places unable to easily heal. But I have become more, I have opened my arms to the possibilities of the forever-never darkness of the One. In its words, I have seen the light. In its songs, I have felt its touch. In its womb, I have been reborn. Lay your sins before me, Mother; take my vessel of its word in your lips, swallow the righteous seed into your belly, and let it transform you in ways you would never imagine,” he says as he rips his pants down and holds his semi-erect penis towards her. “See the monster, Mother. See the eye of your damnation. Take the seed you sowed, return it to your womb, and become one with your son. Become one with the forever-never darkness of the One who has no name.”

Hands grab her, pushing her to her knees before the now throbbing erection. She tries to pull her head away, but more hands grab her face and twist it towards the large purple tip of his penis as it pulsates with blood.

“Open your mouth and prepare for your becoming,” he says as she feels fingers pull at her mouth, prying it open as he forces himself in.

Succumb to My Story

“Don’t be selfish; it is but a simple thing I ask, woman. Go to his home tonight, lie with him in sin, and pleasure his vile wishes,” he says with a wry smile. “Don’t be like that; I know you want to just as much as he does. Why resist the natural order of what we are?”

“What do you get from this if I do what you ask?”

He laughs. “What makes you think I’ll get anything from this? Can’t I be a nurturing friend?”

“We are not friends, Malika. You want something from him, and you plan to use me to get it. I’m not stupid!”

“I never implied you were stupid; I merely implied you would be a useful pawn.”

“A pawn? So you lied?”

“Lied? I never lied; you just never asked the right question,” he laughs.

“How many more lies have you told me? How many times have I been a pawn in your stupid games?” she yells, slapping him across the face.

He allows a smirk to escape from beneath his moustache. “Every single chance I get, every time, so—” But his words fall short as she drives a knee into his groin, sending him to the ground.

“FUCK YOU, MALIKA!” she screams, running to the door frantically. As she grabs the door’s handle, he begins to laugh loudly, causing her to freeze in terror.

“Did you actually think I’d let you leave so easily?” he hisses into her ear, as sweat runs down her brow.

Her lips tremble, and she swallows a nervous bubble of air, gasping. “What is happening to me?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” he asks, lightly stroking her arms with his long, twisted fingernails.

“W-W-Who are you?”

He laughs again. “I am Malika; you know that, dear Roberta.”

“I-I-I know that. I mean, WHAT ARE YOU?”

He laughs once more. “After all these years, after all the gifts you have taken from me, after all the favours given and taken, you ask now. You ask what I am.”

“I-I—I…”

“You never cared before because you always felt safe within my company. But now you don’t. Now you feel you need to know what I am if you are to somehow survive this night, correct?”

“Y-Y-Yes,” she says softly.

“I enjoyed your great-grandmother’s company more than I have any other of your lineage. She asked the question that needed to be asked at our first meeting; she knew what I was. What I did, long before she asked me to do what she wanted done. We worked in harmony, both using the other to meet each one’s ends, and we met ends on so many occasions,” he says with a wicked cackle, licking her ear. “You could do well to learn from that.”

“You lie!”

“We’ve already come to that resolution, but within all lies, there is truth. Because a lie always needs somewhere to start. Now, will you do as I ask? Will you lie down with him and pleasure his sins?”

“I—I—I cannot. I WILL NOT!” she screams.

“Humans, so predictable, all of you,” he says, gripping her by the back of the head and slamming it into the steel door, knocking her unconscious. “But unlike you, I have all the time in the world to wait for you to give yourself to me,” he says with a wry smile.

A Meeting In-Between

“We had a deal,” it says, as if words could be anything in this place. His naked, shivering form stands before it. If he could cower, he would, but his body does not answer his cries. For if it did, he would be running now, far from this thing, far from whatever is about to happen.

“I tried, I did, but…”

“But nothing. I gave you back life, and you betrayed me. You twisted my words, my story. You tried to escape, and your family paid the price. More will suffer unless you do as I say.”

“I can’t. What you’re asking is genocide,” his mind screams. It laughs, and its eyes grow wider as it grips him by the throat with one of its large, clawed hands.

“Genocide—one of the words created by your kind because of the things you’ve carried out against each other in the name of your petty beliefs. But I don’t want genocide. I want the one who bore forth all of us. I want the one who made these limbs, this eternal heart, and I want him to pay,” it says as it thrusts him backward. He crashes to the ground, into the soft, watery underneath that is the place in-between all.

“I can’t. It’s too late for what you want. I never agreed to this, not what you want me to do. I can’t do it. Why don’t you just let me die? Find someone else to carry out yo—”

“YOU ARE MY TOOL!” it screams into the darkness as the very ground beneath him vibrates with its power. “You will do what we AGREED upon. You will do what I ask of you. I gave you what you wanted. I breathed life back into your husk, I let you keep your sin. Stop fighting what is inevitable. Do what you were reborn to do, or you will relive everything, over and over again, until you obey me, until you are BROKEN. Do you understand?”

“NO! I’LL NEVER STOP FIGHTING YOU, I’LL NEVER DO WHAT YOU ASK!” his mind screams. For a few moments, it stands there, looking at him, hunched over as if it is ready to attack.

“Then, I will break you,” it says as everything melts away and he leaps from his bed to his feet. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, his eyes dart around the darkened room while his heart beats furiously in his chest. Slowly, he pulls the phone from his pocket and answers it.

“We’re fucked,” he says nervously into the phone as Abby jumps from her bed and starts barking furiously at the door.

Excuses

He grips her hair, pulling it back, and begins to lick his way up her chest, along her neck, and over her chin, coming to a stop at her mouth, and she swallows him. They twist and turn together in their nakedness, each meeting the other’s thrusts, as they become more like a living, breathing machine than two separate bodies.

She lets out a gasp of pleasure, and he thrusts harder, twists her down onto the bed, pulling himself out of her and quickly burying his face between her legs. She grabs a handful of hair, as she pushes his head deeper down. She arches her back, letting out another gasp. He picks up his pace as she squirms and moans, more and more. Her breathing begins to quicken, her body tenses, her eyes shut tight, and she bites down on her bottom lip.

“Now!” she gasps quickly. He moves with haste, up along her body. They kiss as he penetrates her again, rubbing her clit with his fingers as he thrusts his hard, blood-engorged cock back and forth within her. She digs her fingernails into his back, dragging them down his back, ripping at his flesh, as she quivers with anticipation, frantically matching his thrusts until she can take no more and lets out a satisfied cry of exhilaration. He thrusts harder, faster, forcing himself in deeper, until his mind explodes with undiluted orgasmic ecstasy, and joins her in orgasm. They both let loose with cries of total intoxication from the rapture their bodies created in one another, as they collapse, exhausted, spent, on top of each other.

For a few moments, all they can do is breathe, sucking in breath after breath, both still coming down from their high, until finally, she breaks the silence, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head up to face her so that she can stare into his pale blue eyes.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“That? How in the fucking hell didn’t I know you could do that?”

“You never asked,” he says with a smile.

“Yeah, but I’ve been good friends with both Gloria and Louise, for that matter. I’ve been good friends with all your fucking ex-floozies. And none of them have ever said you were this good in bed.”

“Maybe they didn’t kiss and tell,” he says with a laugh.

“Believe me, they all kiss and tell, all of them. But whenever it came to you, they’d never say anything like this, they’d just brush it off and change the subject like you were shit or something. So what gives? What’s your secret?”

“There’s no secret. Maybe they were worried you’d try to move in on me if you knew how good I was in bed?”

“What? I doubt it? YOU AND ME? There’s never been anything between us, never, well not until now, that is. But before, we’ve only ever been mates, good mates, but only mates, not anything like this,” she says as she plays with his earlobe.

“Maybe they saw something that we didn’t?”

She sits there for a few moments as she runs her hand through his hair and smiles as she collapses back down on the bed. “Maybe,” she says as he slowly moves a hand down her stomach, towards her groin.

“Really? Round two already?”

“There’s no sense in waiting around, is there?”

“I thought you needed to cram for your interview tomorrow? Wasn’t that why you came over in the first place?”

“I’ll cram later. Something else’s come up,” he says with a smile as he goes down on her again.

“Who am I to argue,” she says as she pulls the sheets over their heads.

Partial Visions

“FUCK! I can’t believe you don’t see it; it’s right FUCKING THERE!” he yells, poking the screen with his index finger. The other man turns his head to the side, curling his lips up as he struggles to see anything of any value.

“Yeah, dude, I’m just not seeing it. Are you sure you’re not just seeing things? I mean, the footage is pretty low-grade. If I didn’t know where it was taken, I’d have no clue it was a pub; it looks more like something from Willy Wonka.”

“Seriously, are you telling me you don’t see it? It’s as plain as the nose on your face; are you FUCKING blind?”

“Steady on, there’s no need to start hitting below the belt with insults. I just don’t see it. I wish I could, just so you’d shut the fuck up about it, but I just don’t.”

“Well, it’s there, RIGHT FUCKING THERE!” he says again, thumping his finger on the screen. He looks around the room, steam literally pouring from his ears. His eyes widen as he spots an Artline marker lying on the desk to his left. His mind explodes with an idea as he jumps up, grabs it, rips the lid off, and shoves Steven out of the way.

“Colin, what the fuck are you doing?” Steven says, throwing his hands up in the air as Colin proceeds to draw a circle on the screen with the marker. He then steps back proudly, admiring his work and encouraging Steven to examine the circle’s contents.

“FUCK, DUDE, that’s a permanent bloody marker, you dick. Sanders is going to be pisse…” He stops mid-sentence as his eyes bulge from their sockets and his jaw drops open. Slowly, he turns his head towards Colin, who stands there proudly, with a broad grin on his face, nodding his head with enthusiasm.

“Fucking told you, dude. I fucking told you there was something there. I told you I didn’t imagine it!” he says with authority. Steven turns his gaze back to the screen, staring at the image of a shadowy figure looking up at the camera.

“D-D-D, do you know who it is?” he asks, turning back to Colin, but he need not wait for an answer as a large, shadowy figure stares at him, looking out from over Colin’s shoulder.