Tag: Microfiction

Dream a Dream

He flicks the electric blanket off and rolls around on the bed for a few moments as he tries to find that sweet, comfortable spot. After several agonising minutes of torture, he finally comes to a stop as he finds it. Then, with a broad smile on his face, he reaches up, and turns off his bedside lamp, closes his eyes, and digs himself back into the spot, anticipating that maybe tonight will be the night he actually gets some sleep.

The past three weeks have been a virtual nightmare, with him only managing to find sleep in small blocks—thirty minutes here, an hour there—but nothing that one would call restful. It’s not the fact that he can’t sleep that’s the problem; it’s what happens when he eventually closes his eyes. It’s what greets him on the other side: images of violence, bodies twisted, broken and bloody, screaming in pain and agony, and a vision of something, enveloped in laughter. A demented, cantankerous laughter, and if he were to be honest, out of everything, it’s the laughter that disturbs him the most. He doesn’t know who the laughter belongs to. It’s a deep, male voice that’s always laughing at the pain, at the screams, at the suffering of those broken bodies.

Many nights, like tonight, he lies there staring at the clock, closing his eyes every few moments, only to have them snap back open again. Sometimes, he finds himself relieved to still be in his bed; other times, disappointed that he’s not, that he’s in this other world.

Tonight, he hopes finally for comfort, finally for sleep to take him on an endless trip through the darkness.

He closes his eyes in anticipation. After four hours of agitated fear, thirty-seven minutes ago, he took two tablets his doctor prescribed to help him sleep. His doctor referred to them as light sedatives and told Jeffery they should not only help him fall asleep, but with the correct dosage, he would also not dream.

At first, he was hesitant, but his doctor talked him around, assuring him that unlike many of the other sedatives on the market, like Valium, for example, these should not put him in a coma-like state. As he begins to feel himself drift away, he smiles, finally feeling like tonight is his night.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, how long he was wandering in the darkness before he opened his eyes again, but when he does, he leaps from his bed in a panic. Around him is no longer the room he knows. Instead, his bed has somehow been transported into a rundown, filthy old shed. He can hear the roof creaking in the wind, and a cold breeze rips through his body. Then, he hears it—a dripping sound coming from somewhere behind him. Slowly, he looks around, somehow falling off the bed and crashing to the floor in a heap. He springs up, terrified, nervously looking over the bed at the bodies that hang down from the ceiling, a sea of blood beneath them as they drip, drip, drip into it.

“W-W-What the fuck? What the fuck? Wake up! WAKE UP!” he stammers to himself. Suddenly, he feels a hand slap down on his shoulder. His eyes dart over his shoulder, and he scrambles backward at the sight of the smiling man, dressed in a bloodstained white jumpsuit with a rubber apron tied around his waist.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jeffery, did I scare you?” the man says with a wry smile on his face.

“H-H-H-How the fuck do you know my name?”

The man laughs. “Why wouldn’t I know your name? After all, it is your dream, isn’t it?”

“I-I-I, I don’t know what the fuck this is, but this is not my dream!”

“Really? Well, this is a terrible development. If it’s not your dream, then whose dream is it? Oh, sorry, wait, yes, yes, you’re right, I see what’s missing. Let me get the ambiance back,” he says, clicking his fingers.

Almost instantly, the screaming starts, and the hanging bodies behind him begin to twist and turn. The lights flicker on and off as Jeffery forces his hands over his ears, tightly closing his eyes.

“STOP!” he screams. Then, everything goes silent. Slowly, he opens his eyes and finds himself sitting on the floor of his room. He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he says softly.

“Don’t thank that interloper, always ruining my fun. Thank me instead, for I’m the one who made all the voices go quiet,” the man says. Jeffery darts a look over to a chair that sits in the corner of his room, and the moustached man slowly peeks his head out of the darkness and smiles.

“W-W-What the fuck is going on?”

“Everything, my dear boy, everything and nothing. Weeks, months, years of work—things your puny little mind would never understand no matter how much information you were given. All you need to know is that you’re mine now, and forever, to do with as I please, as I have with all the other disconnected souls that have haunted your dreams for the little time we have so far spent together. Don’t look so worried, my pet; there is nothing to fear but fear itself. Embrace what is to take place, let all that you have seen seep inside, so you can better prepare yourself for forever. For even as your earthly body lies in an eternal slumber, never to wake again, it will eventually die, and when that takes place, the real fun begins,” he says with a smile.

“W-W-What the FUCK are you talking about? Who the hell are you?”

“I’m talking about always making sure you read up on what you’re taking, Jeffery, old boy. Trusting the wrong people, for you never know who it is that’s slipping you a Mickey. Take me, for example. You thought you could trust me because I wear a nice white coat, but really, who am I?” he says with a big smile.

Markings

Every day for the last six months, she’s been there—well, okay, not every day. I’ve already messed this up, and it’s ruining the awesome introduction I had planned out in my head. Let me start again; it needs the flow of a great start, trust me.
Every day for the last six months, whenever I’ve been on the U-Twenty-Six from Geelong to Melbourne—which, by the way, is almost every day—she’s been there, in the same seat, not really doing anything special, just staring off into space, looking sad most of the time, frightened at other times, but regardless of how she looks, she’s always there. I wouldn’t say she’s not pretty, but she’s not ugly. I mean, if she smiled at me, I’d smile back for sure, so I guess she’s pretty enough. Anyway, I’m getting off track, and that’s something none of us will benefit from.
Two days ago, when I got off the train in Melbourne, I saw her as usual. She was dressed in the same business suit she always wore, regardless of the day or time, but unlike every other time I’d seen her, this time, something happened. For the first real time, EVER, I think, I looked back directly at her, and she looked up and saw me looking at her. As soon as that spark passed between us, she did the craziest thing—she leapt up and banged against the door like a woman possessed, while everyone around her acted as though she wasn’t there. But I saw her, and she saw me.
It was weird, totally, absolutely, insanely weird, but it didn’t end there. It was going to get even weirder as the day progressed. As I walked to the office, I stopped to get some breakfast, as I always do. I’m a man who runs on routine, but today was a slow one for the small takeaway store. I could tell as soon as the girl smiled weakly as she handed me my bacon and egg muffin, which felt like it was at least two hours old, and a large cup of coffee that tasted like it was not just burnt but cremated. It was when I was trying not to choke on the stale muffin that I noticed a flyer on the pole outside the shop. It was a picture of this woman, and it had big letters above it that said ‘MISSING.’
If you’re not getting that feeling right now, then I haven’t done what was going on in my head justice, so I’ll fill in the blanks for you. I immediately recognised the woman from the flyer. I dropped my coffee on the floor, which was no great loss, really, and then panicked. I ran out of the shop to the pole and ripped the flyer down, clutching it as if it were a cheque for a million dollars made out to me.
From what I could gather from the flyer, eight months ago Melissa Wong, the woman I’d been seeing on the train for the last six months, left for work as she always did, catching the morning train from Geelong to Southern Cross station in Melbourne, and just disappeared. She never showed up for work, never used her pass card to leave the station—she just vanished into thin air. There was a number on the bottom of the flyer, and against my better judgement, I called and spoke to her sister, Anne-May. I explained what I knew; she grew quiet the more I told her about how I’d seen her sister every time I was on the train. After I finished, she reluctantly agreed to meet me at the station that night, and then I went off to work. It was an uneasy day; all I could think about was Melissa Wong and what she was doing on the train.
When I first saw Anne-May, I was gobsmacked. It turned out Melissa and Anne-May were identical twins, which made it very bizarre, as I’d spent most of the day thinking about Melissa. We chatted while we waited for the train, mostly small talk, nothing of any importance. But throughout the course of the idle chit-chat, we found out we had a lot of things in common. Hell, we even laughed together at one stage. Then, right on time, the train arrived. Half-empty as normal and a shitload of people wanting to get on.
We stepped—sorry, let me try that again.
We were rushed through the doors, and there she sat, sad and looking at the ground, as always. Then, for the second time since I’d started seeing her, she looked up, and I saw a tear run down her face. She smiled, and so did her sister. Finally, she had been found. A beautiful white light engulfed the whole train, and I was left with a feeling of total happiness, as were the other passengers. For the remainder of the ride home, Anne-May and I talked about everything and anything. We even made plans to see each other again.
It seemed, somehow, the unfortunate fate of her sister had brought us together, and for reasons we both knew, somehow, it was meant to be.
The hunt still continues for Melissa’s body and whoever committed the crime, but at least I know—and at least Anne-May knows—her soul is at rest.

Sleight Of Hand

“Are you sure you’re doing it right?” she says, looking up towards him. His face screws up, and he storms toward her.

“I know WHAT I’m doing, do you?”

“I’m only following your instructions.” she says as he grabs her by the throat and slams her against the wall.

“Don’t even. You wanted in, you wanted to make those bastards pay, well this is it, honey. We make them all pay this way!” he says with a wicked smile, tightening his grip on her throat.

“Da-Dal-DALE, YOU’RE CHOKING ME!” she finally manages to scream. He gives her one last twisted look and lets her go, storming off theatrically to the other side of the room.

“Now, pick up the cup, and when I say the words, dip it into the blood and drink the bloody thing so we can get on with everything!” he growls. She nervously walks over to a table, picks up a golden goblet, and nods her head slowly. He smirks as he raises his hands into the air and recites ancient text that, when spoken, sounds more like noises than words.

The room shakes as he screams out the last passage of the awakening spell. She stands nervously as the blood before her begins to bubble. “Now, do it now!” he yells. She jumps in fright and quickly plunges the goblet into the blood. The thick, warm stickiness of it makes her dry reach.

“Drink it, DRINK IT NOW!” he yells. She looks up at him, terrified, then back at the goblet.

“I-I-I, I can’t,” she says desperately.

“What the FUCK do you mean you can’t? You have to! If you don’t drink the blood, who knows what hell will be brought down against us?” he replies quickly, rushing to her side.

“We don’t know for sure what’s going to happen. You can’t be sure what this spell is really going to do!”

“I’m not stupid, fucktard! I know how it works. Just give it to me!” he says, grabbing the golden goblet from her and greedily swallowing its contents.

“Okay, but I needed to make sure you understood that asking the devil for a favour is not as simple as it sounded,” she says with a wicked smile. His face drains of blood as he feels something tug at his innards.

“W-W-What have yo-yo-you done to m-m-me?” he stammers weakly.

“Me? I’ve done nothing. You’re the one who cast the spell. You should know what level of damnation you’re about to face. After all, you’re not stupid, are you?”

Date Night

He sits across from her, looking into her eyes, and she smiles as she gently dabs the serviette on her mouth.

“What?” she asks.

“What?”

“What are you staring at?”

“You,” he says with a smile as he leans onto the table, making her blush. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To look at each other, to see if we’re the real deal or not.”

“I guess. It’s just, well, I’ve never had anyone say the things you say to me. It’s a bit unusual.”

“You’re a beautiful woman. I’m just telling you the truth.”

She laughs. “I’ve been on seventeen of these dates, and no one has been as up front and, well, as nice as you. So tell me, why are you still on the market? What’s your fault?”

He laughs and leans back in his chair. “We’re already to that part of the night?”

“That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?” she says with a cheeky grin.

“Touché,” he says with a laugh. “Okay, honestly, I haven’t found the right person, the right companion. I’ve been looking, but it’s always in the wrong spot. That’s why I’m here, doing this, trying to find Miss Right.”

“You’ve practiced that one, haven’t you?”

“Well,” he says as he leans back on the table again, “like you, I’ve done this too many times to count, so yeah, it’s a little practiced. But it’s true. I’m looking for that person who can make me feel part of something special, not just another fling. I want someone who will make every day worth it. So, now your turn. Why are you here?”

“The same reason, I guess—looking for the one. I had him once, but it ended badly, and I’ve been searching ever since, hoping one day to find it again. But all I ever seem to find are sleazebags and no-hopers.”

He laughs. “Isn’t that generally what single men are?”

“You don’t seem to be one,” she says with a smile.

“I could be. Anyone can. But forgive me for being forward like this, but I like you. You seem normal, interesting, and that’s what gets me—the interest.”

“The challenge?”

He laughs. “I’m not really into challenges; I’m into people. So no, not a challenge, just an interest.”

“Well, I’m glad I interest you. So, do we leave, or do we sit and make more small talk?”

“Well, if you’re finished. You don’t want dessert?”

“Oh no, that was more than I wanted to eat anyway,” she says as she gets up from her seat. After they go to the counter and fight over who’s paying the bill, they walk out into the night air.

“Well, it’s been an enjoyable evening,” he says with a smile. “I’d really like to do this again.”

“Do you say that every time as well?”

He laughs. “No, very rarely.”

“Well then, I’d love to. When?”

“Friday?”

“I’m busy Friday. Sunday?”

“Sunday I’m going to my friend’s to watch the game. What about Saturday?”

“Saturday I’m busy in the afternoon, but if we catch up around seven, I can do that!”

“Seven it is,” he says with a smile. “Where are you parked?”

“Oh, I’m not parked. I live eight blocks that way, so I’m just going to walk,” she says, pointing down through an alleyway.

He looks at her and pulls his jacket on. “No one in their right mind would let someone as lovely as you walk home alone. Please, let me give you a lift.”

“I’m fine, really. I walk it all the time.”

“Please, I want to. I promise my hands will be on the wheel at all times, and I’m not some wacko serial killer.”

She smiles. “Okay, but really, I can walk.”

“I won’t have it,” he says as they walk to his car and climb in. He looks over at her and smiles as he starts the engine and all the doors lock. “I sort of lied back there, about keeping my hands on the steering wheel.”

She laughs nervously. “I thought you were going to tell me you were a serial killer, which would’ve been crazy.”

“Crazy? I just said I’m not going to keep my hands to myself. Aren’t you worried?”

She laughs louder. “No, if you were a serial killer, then maybe. But only because it would’ve been one of those freaky things that happen from time to time. You know, a coincidence.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

She pulls a taser out from her bag and zaps him into unconsciousness. “What I’m talking about, dear Freddie, is how funny it would’ve been if we both ended up being serial killers.”

Heart

“I’ll rip you’re heart from you’re fucking chest if you don’t let me go!” he yells, spit flying from his mouth, but she only laughs, as she slowly walks around the cage that holds him.

“You are in no postilion to make threats, Maynard, it is I who hold power, not you!”

“Don….” The scene freezes, and she walks into the room, you know, the young perky type, tight arse, ample cleavage, glossy lips, the substitute teacher, the one who belongs in the pages of Playboy, not in front of a class, unless it’s practical day in sex ed. She struts into the room, clipboard in hand, looking hotter than the warmest day in summer, coming to a stop a few feet before them, she looks over her notes, before glancing up towards me, looking over the rim of her glasses, and lets out a sigh.

“Well, this is totally unacceptable. When I first noticed the issues, I had hoped being a card-carrying member of the guild, you would’ve picked them up straight away, corrected them, and continued on, before posting this, simplistic, generic set-up of a story,” she says, I look at her perplexed, and then at the words on the screen, and swallow.

“W-W-What is this?” I ask.

“This, this is an injunction.”

“An injunction? W-Why?”

“Why? Dare you ask me that? Look at what you’ve done! As a member of the guild, you are to maintain certain levels of professionalism, which this pathetic short does not meet. Let’s examine it, so I can show you your mistakes.”

“Whoa there, lady. I don’t need you to come in here while I’m in the middle of telling a story and tell me how I should be doing things. So why do—”

“YOU will sit down, and you WILL be quiet, as this is not a discussion about if we have a discussion. This is a counselling session because this story is a hit and run—one you tried to run away from. But that will not happen, not while I AM here. So, you must take your punishment, you must understand your guilt, and you will learn from the mistakes you have made. Now, sit down!” I’ve got to admit, the bitch is making me nervous, so I’ll sit down for now and let her have her little moment in the sun….

“Stop it. This is not your space anymore. You lost that ability when you disobeyed basic rules. Rules are in place to make a sentence not only work but to make an impact, for it to be perfection, not sloppy trash like you have done here. As a card-carrying member, you should know that!”

“Hey, I paid my dues, my costs, I did it all. So why don’t you get the fuck out of my story! Anyway, I was never told that some wet dream I had when I was thirteen while I was learning to masturbate would come here, to my story, and try to tell me what I’ve done wrong when I can clearly see what it is.”

“Clearly, you didn’t read the fine print of your membership, but let’s move on to the important things—like your fifty-word story,” she says, looking back down at her clipboard.

“‘I’ll rip you’re heart from you’re fucking chest if you don’t let me go!’ he yells, spit flying from his mouth, she laughs as she slowly walks around the cage that holds him.

“‘You are in no postilion to make threats, Maynard, it is I who hold power, not you!’”

She looks back up at me. “‘I’ll rip you’re heart from you’re fucking chest if you don’t let me go!’ Let’s start with that: you’re heart, you’re fucking chest. Do you see the problem? You are heart, you are fucking chest. Do you see now?”

“I see, okay, I fucking see. I know, both of them should’ve been your, not you’re, but—”

“No excuses! These mistakes are fundamental mistakes, amateur even, and being a member of the guild, amateur mistakes like this should never happen. But let me continue, because there’s more,” she says, readjusting her glasses and looking back down at the clipboard. “‘You are in no postilion to make threats, Maynard. It is I who hold power, not you!’ This was your opportunity to use you’re right here, but you failed to. Then you incorrectly spelt position, before topping off the sentence with ‘it is I who hold power,’ where if you had turned you are into you’re, you could’ve said ‘it is I who hold the power,’ which would’ve worked. Overall, you have failed this day more than any other day, and it is the guild’s decision that your license be suspended for the next three months. During that time, you’re not permitted to release, write, or engage in any activity that would call into question the professionalism of the guild. This judgment is to take place immediately.”

Lucie

“So, when are you going to make your move?” he says, slapping Peter on the back.

“Gross, Kyle. Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because she’s FRENCH, man, and you know what they say about French chicks!”

“What? They speak French?”

“No, man,” Kyle says, laughing and slapping Peter on the back again. “French chicks are hot and go all the way, on the first date. THE FIRST DATE! Dude, do you know how hard it is to get a chick to go all the way on the first date? Don’t even bother to answer. It’s impossible. AND she’ll be sleeping under the same roof as you. You’d be crazy not to try something!”

“I don’t even know what she looks like.”

“Dude! She’s French, man. She’s going to be hot, and if you don’t tap her, I will.”

“Shut up,” Peter says, shoving Kyle away. Both boys freeze as they hear a car pull into the driveway, signalling the return of his parents with their new house guest. Peter suddenly feels sweat seeping from his pores, nervously wiping his hands on his trousers as he hears car doors close. He gives Kyle a quick glance and rolls his eyes at the big grin on his face. He turns away, breathing into his hands and nearly passing out from his own stale, garlic-infused breath. The door swings open then, and his father steps in, carrying two large suitcases with a huge smile on his face.

“Peter, go help your mother, will you?”

“I’ll help, Mister Winters,” Kyle says, rushing out the door. He returns moments later, white as a ghost, carrying another two suitcases. He locks eyes with Peter, shaking his head vigorously. Seconds later, Peter’s mother and Lucie enter, and she is, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl Peter has ever laid eyes on. She smiles at him, and he feels his cheeks redden. But like Kyle, his mother also looks at him with perplexed confusion.

“Pete, this is Lucie. Lucie, this is my son Peter. Treat him like your brother,” his father says, grabbing Peter by the shoulders and kneading them powerfully.

“H-H-Hi,” Peter stammers, holding out his hand.

“Hello, Peter, it’s awesome to meet you. Your mother and father told me all about you on the way here,” Lucie says in a deep, husky voice, grabbing his hand tightly and shaking it vigorously.

Peter stands there for a moment, not knowing what to say or do, but his father quickly sees his difficulty and takes control of the situation, kneading his shoulder once more.

“Peter, why don’t you show Lucie her room, and where everything is while you’re there—you know, the grand tour,” his father suggests. Peter buckles with pain, gritting his teeth and forcing a smile as he pulls himself free of his father’s grip.

“S-S-Sure, it’s down this w-w-way,” he says, leading Lucie to the back of the house. “This is your room,” he says, opening a door. “It, it used to be my sister’s room, but she’s moved to Brisbane with her boyfriend.”

“Lucky for me,” Lucie says, grabbing Peter and dragging him into the room, slamming the door behind them. Fifteen minutes later, Peter stumbles out of the room, crosses the hall, and enters his, where Kyle waits.

“What the hell happened to you?” Kyle asks, helping Peter to his bed.

“Y-Y-You, you were right. You were so right,” Peter says, collapsing onto the bed. “She just wants to have sex, that’s all she wants, man. It was amazing,” he mutters before passing out. Kyle’s mouth drops open as he looks across the hall at her bedroom door.

“It will be simple—high overload. I have already placed my seed in the boy. The town will follow, and then the rest of this vile world. We will…” A knock at the door interrupts her report. She quickly closes the small device and opens the door, pulling Kyle in. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she says, slamming the door shut.

Alliances

“Can we really trust him? He’s like, our greatest enemy,” she says.

“I know, I know, but the very world threatens to shatter itself into a million pieces. I don’t see that we have any other choice.”

They look over towards where he sits, grinning proudly at them both. “What are you guys talking about?”

“How far we can trust you.”

“Oh, I like that—honest answers. Does this mean we’re all pals now?”

“What the fuck, you’re lucky I have—”

“Vanessa, don’t. No matter what we think, no matter how much history is between us all, we need him,” he says as he grabs her by the arm.

“BULLSHIT we do! Have you forgotten what he did to Sonya and Carrion? We don’t need a piece of scum like this, not now, not EVER! We both know that once we’ve served our usefulness, he’ll turn on us, like he always does. And then what? He’ll kill one of us? Can you live with more blood on your hands, Gregor? My blood?”

“You know it’s not like that. You know we don’t have any other choice. If Sandow gets his hands on the rings, then everything we know will be nothing. Can you live with that? We have a chance to stop him, a chance we can’t ignore. We have to put the past behind us and let the bad blood between us go.”

“Bad blood? BAD BLOOD? Carrion was my brother, Sonya was your friend, and this piece of filth killed them! He deserves the same fate, not a chance to live, not an opportunity to survive—he deserves to DIE!”

He clears his throat and slowly raises his hand into the air. They both quickly turn to him, their frustration evident. He swallows and laughs nervously. “I do hate to interrupt, but you know she’s right, don’t you?” he says.

“Shut the fuck up, Colgrave. The grown-ups are talking.”

“EXCUSE ME? I will not shut the fuck up, not when you two are arguing over things that don’t matter, not when the very existence of this world is at stake. Now, if I—the most diabolical, evil genius the world has ever seen—was able to put my feelings aside to come here and join you in your battle to stop Sandow, then it must stand true that you, the beacons of hope, the superheroes of the world, should be able to put aside your feelings as well. For together, we can reach the final ring before he does and put a stop to this foolishness once and for all.”

“Are you fucking for real?”

“I am indeed for fucking real, for if I were not, I would not be here.”

“No, fucktard, you misunderstand my question. What I said was, are you for real? And by that, I meant, are you insane? Off your tree? Fucked up in the head? Because you’d have to be to think that you’re the bigger person here, putting aside your feelings,” she says as she swings back around to Gregor. “Can’t you see what this demented freak is doing? He’s trying to play with our heads, stir up trouble like he’s always done! He doesn’t want to help protect the last ring; he just wants to be a pain in the arse.”

“You never said you had the last ring,” Colgrave says softly, his eyes growing wide.

“That’s because it’s a fucking secret,” she yells, turning back to him. The smile that grows on his face says more than any words could. “Oh fuck,” she mutters under her breath.

“Oh fuck indeed,” he says as his eyes glow a fiery yellow, and his size begins to grow. His muscles tear through his clothing and then, through his skin itself, until it stands before them and smiles. “Now, give me my ring!” Sandow growls.

The Elixir

“I promise on everything I hold dear, if you don’t feel mighty different—rejuvenated even—after you take a sip of this here elixir, I’ll give you one thousand dollars. In fact, you can hold it while you take your sip, just so you know I’m not trying to pull the wool over your eyes,” he says, holding out the crisp, new, one-hundred-dollar notes in one hand and a bottle of blue liquid in the other.

“Don’t take me for a fool, boy!” the old man says as he pushes the shotgun’s barrel into the man’s face. “I’ve seen scum like you come to our town promising shit like this before, and you know what? They’re always full of lies, every time, just like you are.”

“P-P-Please, I’m not lying, sir, I swear, this here eli—” But the words don’t get a chance to finish escaping from his lips, as the old man fires the shotgun, removing half the man’s head in the process.

“I said I would, I goddamn warned you, you piece of shit,” he says, gathering saliva and spitting a large wad onto the man’s headless remains that lie on the ground before him. “LEROY! Come out here and clean this fucking mess up,” he yells out. “LEROY!”

“N-No-N-N-Not ye-yet, w-weeeeeee hav-av-haven’t finish-ish-sh-shed ou-ou-our conversation-n-n-n,” the man says as he awkwardly, clumsily gets to his knees, as his head somehow rebuilds itself.

“W-W-What in the blue blazes are you?” the old man says, his eyes growing wide with fear, holding the now shaking shotgun towards him.

“Everything you want to be, and can be,” he says, as he holds out the elixir again. “Do you believe me now?”

“This, this blue stuff, that stuff there, does all that?”

“And more,” he says with a smile, his head now back to how it was before the old man fired his shotgun. He looks at him with hesitation, as the man shakes the bottle and nods his head, smiling. “Go on, you know you want to try it, you know you want to see what it’s like,” he says. The old man grabs it from his hands, rips the lid off, and quickly drains the contents into his mouth, swallowing it down in one breath, then lets out a loud, grotesque burp soon after.

“I don’t feel any different, boy. How long does it take for this miracle shit to work?” the old man asks with a grunt.

“Give it time, old timer. It’ll happen soon enough, and trust me, when it does, we’ll both know,” the salesman says, his smile growing broader. The old man burps again, and then again, feeling the burn of the bubble at the back of his throat. He frantically clutches his chest as the pain rips through him, his eyes widen in terror, his lip trembles, and then he explodes like a balloon overfull with water. “There we go, see? Didn’t I tell you, you’d feel different?”

Padti

“SCANDALOUS!” he shouts at the small room of people. They all look at the ground in shame, their faces red. One man shuffles his feet clumsily, biting down on his lip as he mumbles to himself. He feels a shadow cast over him, followed quickly by something crashing into his stomach, sending him to the ground in agony.

“YOU DARE CHALLENGE ME!” he yells at the fallen man, his fists shaking with anger, his eyes bloodshot, wide, wild.

“P-P-Please, please, Lord Wilton, I-I-I-I, I meant no disrespect. There was no challenge from me. I was, I-I-I, I, I was just disappointed in myself—in us all, as you are. I never meant anything other than that—definitely not disrespect,” he pleads frantically, clutching his stomach.

“But you did, didn’t you, Chance? And in doing so, you showed the others how you cannot be trusted,” Wilton says as he powerfully strides around Chance, looking into the faces of the others gathered around them. “You are not one of us, for if you were, you would not hold bitterness towards your brothers and sisters—towards me, the one who saved you,” he hisses, holding his arms in the air. “Am I not the one who saved you? Am I not the one who showed you the light? Am I not the one you worship with all that you are?”

“YOU ARE, MY LORD!” they all call out in unison.

“Should this betrayal be left unpunished?”

“NO, MY LORD!” they cry.

“How should he be punished?”

“DEATH!”

“NO, PLEASE! NO!” Chance yells.

“The time for begging is over, child. Your people have spoken, Chance, and today, you face your tomorrow,” Wilton says, as a group of them grab Chance and drag him from the room, screaming. “TODAY IS YOUR TOMORROW, EMBRACE IT, CHANCE! EMBRACE TOMORROW, FOR WE WILL ALL SOON BE THERE WITH YOU, FOR WE WILL ALSO BE WITHIN THE TOMORROW!” Wilton screams with laughter as the door slams shut, muffling Chance’s cries. Then, he turns to the followers who remain and smiles. “Now, let us continue, for my disappointment is yet to be quenched!”

The Gift of Nature

“It’ll only hurt for a moment, well, that’s what they tell me, anyway,” she says, running a fingernail along one of the protruding veins in his neck before biting down. He gasps for air as her teeth pierce the fragile vein, and his blood rushes into her hungry mouth. She casts a glance at the young girl who crouches, petrified in the adjacent corner, and smiles as she drains him of all his life-giving blood.

The girl’s eyes grow wide with terror as she tries to pull her gaze away, but the sight spellbinds her.

The woman drops his now pale, lifeless husk to the ground and, slowly, on hands and knees, makes her way to the girl as his blood drips from her chin. “Well, aren’t you the pretty one,” she says, reaching toward her with a bloody hand, lightly brushing the girl’s hair from her face. “Come now, child, don’t be afraid. The big slob filled me, and I have no desire to spill your blood as well. Are you okay?” she says, getting to her feet and offering to help the girl to hers as well. The girl sits there for some time, staring at the woman before nervously taking her hand and standing beside her.

“Do you not talk?” the woman asks as she wipes the blood from around her mouth, while the girl stares at his corpse. “Don’t worry, love, he won’t hurt you anymore—not where I sent him anyway,” she says as she slowly begins to hum to herself and dance around the room, giggling, until she comes to a stop back in front of the girl, extending her hand. “Care to dance?”

The girl shakes her head vigorously in disagreement and grips herself tightly.

“Lovie, don’t be like that, come for a spin?” she says merrily.

The girl shakes her head again, and the woman pouts.

“Come on, lovie, I did just save your life. Can’t you at least give me one spin around the room as a thank you?”

The girl looks up at the woman and nods as she silently steps towards her. Eagerly, the woman grabs the girl and presses her tightly against her. It is then that she notices a smile creeping onto the girl’s face.

“He wasn’t going to hurt me,” the girl says as she drives a blade deep into the woman’s chest. “I was hurting him,” she adds with a wicked smile.

Share A Meal

He drives the baseball bat into the thing’s skull, knocking it to the ground. “RUN!” he yells. The boys, at first, look on in fear as the thing slowly gets to its feet again. He turns to them, his face stern, resolved. “RUN FOR FUCK’S SAKE! Let me do this!”

“DAD!” one of the boys yells as the thing attacks. He crashes to the ground, screaming in agony as the thing rips into him, tearing his flesh from the bone. Then he is silent as the thing starts to stuff its mouth full of his flesh. The boys stand there, petrified, staring, watching the thing as it devours him. It looks up towards them, continuing to chew.

“W-W-What, what should we do?”

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“Of course I am. Look, the bat, it’s—”

“It’s what, another way for us to get killed? Jerry’s dad just tried, and that thing slaughtered him, like it has everyone else who’s attempted to stand up to it. I say we fucking run, we keep running, and we don’t look back. EVER!”

“It WON’T STOP! That thing’ll catch up, it’ll kill us one by one until we’re all dead. Our only chance is to stop it NOW, while we have the chance!”

“What fucking chance have we got? We’re kids! Jerry’s dad was a big guy, and that thing smashed him into nothing in a few seconds, just like your brother. And he was a BIG GUY! But this thing—it took him out like he was nothing. We’re snacks to it, not even worth worrying about. I say we run while we still can.”

“Look at it,” Jerry says. The other three look over towards it, where it sits, watching them, its head tilted to the side.

“I-I-Is it l-l-listening to us?”

“I think so,” Jerry says.

“What should we do? Do you think it understands what we’re saying?”

“W-Why don’t we ask it,” Jerry says as he takes a nervous step forward.

“Jerry, DON’T!”

“I’ll be alright, Froggy. I don’t think it’s going to hurt me,” he says, taking another step towards it. “Can you understand me?” he asks. It just stares at him, its head tilts to the other side, and then it nods in understanding. Jerry looks back to the others, then back to the thing. “Why are you here?” Its head tilts back again as it stuffs more flesh into its mouth, then it holds out its hand, offering Jerry a piece of his father’s torn flesh. He shakes his head, and the thing tilts its head again, then stuffs the flesh into its mouth.

“Just leave it, Jerry. It seems happy right now. Let’s just get the hell out of here before it changes its mind and comes after us!” Froggy says.

“No, it’s intelligent. Maybe we can reason with it, find out what it wants,” he says, turning to them. The look on their faces tells him all he needs to know, and the warmth of its breath on the side of his face does the rest. Slowly, he turns to face it, as it stands there, staring at him, still chewing on pieces of his father’s flesh. “P-P-Please,” he says nervously. It stops, and once again tilts its head to the side before it attacks.

Seven

“It’s a brilliant idea, and it’ll revolutionise the industry,” he says as he tucks his hands behind his head and leans back in his seat.

“Seriously? I know you’re mad, but this is insane. It’s got nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with what we’re working towards. We’re scientists, Glenn, playing with the very tools that make us who we are, who we could be—not building sideshow freaks. Not this. I-I, I can’t let you do it, I won’t!” he says, launching himself from his seat and thrusting his tightly clenched fists into the table.

“But we’re not going anywhere, Clive. There’s no money coming in; our funding’s been ripped away. And those fucks back in the city? They’re laughing at us, calling us a joke. This, this will show them. It’ll be magnificent, and with the money we bring in, we’ll fund our work ourselves. Don’t you see? We could become self-sufficient, our own bosses, like we’ve always dreamed about. Can’t you see that?”

He stares at his fists, squeezing them tightly before he looks back at Glenn. His face is not as tense, the scowl lessened, his eyes showing no anger—only contemplation. “I-I-I don’t know. It just, well, it just feels like we’re selling out, giving them an even greater reason to laugh at us. What if it doesn’t work? What if we just end up wasting more valuable time?”

“Think about it. People will come from miles around to see them; they’ll pay what we ask. Then, those pieces of shit will beg us to come back, only because they’ll want to steal what we’ve created. But we won’t, because we’ll be kings!” he says proudly, a broad grin on his face.

“It’s going to take a lot of work. We’re going to have to teach them everything.”

“Bah, we’ll code the knowledge into their DNA. We won’t need to teach them a thing. They’ll be as good—no, they’ll be better—than those schmucks in their multi-million-dollar shitholes.”

“I-I, I’m still not a hundred percent on board,” he says, sitting back down.

“But you’re warming to it?”

“What are we going to call it?”

“I’ve got a couple of ideas,” Glenn says as he pulls a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Clive, who gently unfolds it and pulls a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket. For a few moments, he sits there, his face slowly turning redder and redder with each new line until finally, he looks up at Glenn, clearing his throat.

“You can’t be serious. Are these really your suggestions?”

“What? Are you kidding me? I thought they were brilliant.”

“Honestly, I think we need something that has presence, strength, marketability. None of these fit that category; in fact, most of them are childish.”

“Steady on there. I’ll have you know, I showed them around the lab, and everyone thought they were perfect. Hell, the last two were Seven’s suggestions.”

“I can believe that,” he says, looking back at the piece of paper. Slowly, he begins to laugh, getting louder and more animated as the seconds tick by until he has tears streaming from his eyes.

“What’s so fucking funny?”

“C-C-Catch of the Day was S-Seven’s idea, and s-she’s half o-o-octopus!” he manages to get out, and soon, both men are crying with laughter, while beyond the glass, three figures stand watching.

“Do you think he likes it?” Seven asks the other two.

Lioness

She peers through the crowd, searching. Slowly, she closes her eyes and lifts her nose into the air, sniffing deeply. His scent wafts up her nostrils, and her eyes explode open with panic. He can’t be more than a few feet away. Too late, she realises he is closer, as she feels it dig into her back and lets out a low growl.

“Donovan, are you sure you want to play this game again?” she hisses.

“Fuck you, Clare. This dance ends tonight, by my hands. I won’t live like this anymore—looking over my shoulder, wondering when you’ll turn up, wanting more of me than I care to give,” he says as he forces the gun deeper into her back.

“Don’t make me out to be the aggressor. You opened the box. You gave me life. You performed the ritual! You can’t just walk away when you sell your soul, Donovan. We’re linked, forever, until you’re dragged down to the fiery pits of damnation. THAT’S WHEN THIS IS OVER!” she says through clenched teeth, forcing a smile.

“This isn’t what I wanted! This isn’t what I agreed to—you dogging me forever!”

“Maybe you should’ve read the fine print first, before you accepted the offer,” she says with a laugh. He pushes the gun into her side deeper, causing her to wince in pain.

“SHUT UP! Tell me—tell me how I can be rid of you once and for all!”

“I thought we just went through that? You can’t ever be rid of me. Well, that’s a lie—you can be rid of me, but only in death!”

“BULLSHIT! You want to be free of this as much as I do. There has to be a way, some way—I can’t FUCKING live like this!” he cries.

“Well then, kill yourself,” she says calmly.

“Don’t fucking tempt me, bitch!”

She laughs again. “Don’t tempt you? Seriously, that’s all I’ve ever done since we first laid eyes on each other. Kill yourself, let this ride be done, claim your reward, and burn forevermore in the pits of your kingdom that awaits downstairs.”

“FUCK YOU!” he hisses as he pulls the trigger. An explosion rips through her, blowing a hole in her stomach. She looks down calmly, clenching her teeth together and letting out a low, primeval growl as the hole begins to quickly heal over.

“You don’t know how much I loved this dress, Donovan. They don’t even make it anymore, you stupid FUCK!” she growls, turning quickly toward his quivering frame.

“Sucks to be you, then,” he quips back.

“Oh no, Donovan, it sucks to be you,” she says with a wicked smile as she grabs him by the throat and lifts him high into the air. “Your damnation will surely be damning,” she says with a smile, “but how I’m going to send you there, that’s going to be another level of pain you’ll never recover from.”

Plate

“You son of a bitch, I can’t believe I trusted you! I can’t believe we all trusted you!” he yells as he grabs her by the throat, slamming her against the wall. She struggles for air, trying to free herself from his grip. Then, suddenly, she stops struggling, relaxes, and smiles sarcastically.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing,” she says as she thrusts a hand into his chest and rips out his heart. He stares lifelessly at her as his mouth drops open. For a few moments, they stand there, locked in each other’s eyes, until he drops to the ground, falling in a bloody heap. She looks over at the others, raises her blood-covered hand, and licks the blood from it, eyeing each of them as she does. “God, if you only knew all the shit you eat that you think is so good for you actually makes you taste like shit.”

“VILE DEMON, BE GONE!” a young man screams as he rushes forward, holding out a cross. She thrusts forward, grabbing him by the head, and twists as if opening a jar. The snap his neck makes is like a crack of thunder, and she tosses his lifeless body to the side.

“‘Vile demon, be gone?’ I hope some of you have newer material than this. I mean, seriously, that shit was old, and besides, it never works anyway. Don’t you fuckers keep journals that you pass on to the next generation, so they’ll learn from your mistakes?” she says, looking once more at the dwindling number. “Come on, I can do this all night. Why don’t you save me time and just give up? Get down on your knees and offer yourselves to me. I promise, I’ll make it quick.”

“We will never bow before you. We will never give you what you want!” another yells as he tightly holds onto a large blade.

“Tobias, really? Do you honestly think you stand a chance against me? Do you think you have the strength to take down a knight of the realm?”

“I DO! I’ve trained my whole life to be the best, to kill the unkillable, to stop the unstoppable, and you, my teacher, are all that and more. It’s only fitting you be mine to destroy,” he hisses through clenched teeth as he readies himself for the attack.

“Then, by all means, come at me, you pathetic piece of flesh and bones. Come and see, see how much I never showed you!” she growls as he charges towards her. It’s all too late when she sees him, from the corner of her eye—the young priest, his face wearing a twisted smile. She feels the blade pierce her chest, and, for the first time, realises that even the other can die the eternal death.

No, It’s Not

“Now just relax. This is a safe room, and I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. Do you understand?” he says as he settles into a seat across from her. She sits there, staring at him with wild eyes.

“I-I-I, I said I don’t want to,” she says, gripping the side of the couch tightly. “I just want to go back to my room, to my photos.”

“We’ve been over this before, Marie. We’ve agreed—you agreed—that for you to take the necessary steps in your rehabilitation, we need to confront what happened in your past. What made you build these walls, walls that have led to violent outbursts towards, well, happiness—other people’s happiness, to be more precise.”

“I know. I’m not stupid. I-I-I’d just rather go back to my room. Can’t we do this another day?”

“It’s not going to happen, Marie. The last four times I’ve allowed you to do just that, and in each instance, you’ve gone back to your room and either assaulted a member of staff or harmed yourself. That will not happen today. Today, you either get on board, or I’ll have no other choice but to request your immediate relocation to a more, how should I put it….”

“Just say prison. We both know that’s what you want to do with me—lock me up and throw away the key.”

“Please, Marie, that’s far from what I want. If you work with me like you promised you would, we could fight the demons in your head together. We could overcome all the things inside that make you feel the way you do. All you need to do is lie down, allow me to administer the drug, and together, hand in hand, we’ll fight this.”

“I-I-I, okay….” she says as she slowly lies on the couch. Quickly, he is at her side, and then a sharp pain, followed moments later by a feeling of euphoria.

“Now, Marie, tell me what you feel. Get it out; let’s purge this demon together,” he says as he sits back down calmly, crosses his legs, places a small notebook on his lap, and leans back in the chair.

She stares intensely at the ceiling. Her bottom lip begins to tremble as tears start to run down her face. She bites her bottom lip, breaking the skin. She feels the warm thickness of it land on her tongue; she tastes the salty goodness, and she wants more. She feels waves crash against her body—waves of sedation, peacefulness—and she closes her eyes, lost in the moment, lost in time, as seconds turn into minutes, and minutes into hours, until, finally, she begins to come back.

“Marie, where are you now?” she hears his voice say. It seems so far away, so distant. Her eyes slowly open. She catches a glimpse of something moving in the corner of her eye—it’s not him; he’s to her other side. Her heart jumps, its rhythm increasing, as she sees the dark, shadowy figure creep towards her, but she’s unable to move. She feels something cold grip her leg—is it a hand? Her heart beats faster. She feels the perspiration seep from her body as her eyes slowly, nervously, make their way downward. That’s when she locks eyes with it—with herself—and she screams, leaping from the couch, crashing to the floor in a heap. Frantically, she scrambles away, cowering in the corner of the room, screaming.

“Are you okay?” he asks. She stares at him, her heart racing. She sees the sweat run down the side of his brow. He knows. He knows what’s happening. He can see it too. It’s what he wanted, after all. He places a nervous finger on the intercom switch and clears his throat. “Judy, can you…?” A pencil tears into his throat, piercing his windpipe. He clutches at it, gasping for air as he begins choking on his own blood. Marie stands over his quivering body as the doors to his small office crash open. Judy lets out a scream of horror. The orderlies stand there in shock before charging towards her, crashing into her like a freight train, tackling her to the ground. All the while, she smiles. Maybe, finally, she knows how to be happy herself.

Be Happy

“Mister Rivers, come on in. I’m glad you found the time to come and see me,” the man says as he gestures for David to follow him into a small cubicle, and then to sit down. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to get around to calling you in. As you can see, we’re very much under the pump lately with everything going on in the factory, as we call it,” he says as he places a yellow folder on the desk and opens it up. Quickly, he looks over the pages inside. “David Christopher Rivers, born on the twenty-third of October, nineteen thirty-seven in Hobart, Tasmania,” he says as he looks up and smiles. “It’s a wonderful place, Tasmania. It’s been a long while since I’ve been down there. Is it still beautiful?”

“Sights that take your breath away,” David replies.

“Magnificent,” he says as he looks at the photo on David’s file and then at the young man sitting before him. “You’ve had some work done, I see.”

“At first, I wasn’t interested, but after I saw the work Doris had, I couldn’t resist,” David replies, clearing his throat.

“Everyone always succumbs to it, David, so please, don’t be embarrassed. If you can do it, and it makes you happy, then you do it.”

“That’s what everyone said,” David says with a smile.

The man smiles at David, looks back down at the file, and then back at him. “Sorry for this. There was a time when I knew everyone without the need for these files. But we’ve grown a little larger than when I first started all this, and I’m not as young as I used to be either. It’s a young man’s game nowadays. My children are better at this than I am, but sometimes—now and then—when we have someone like you come up for review, I like to come down and do it myself.”

“I-I-I-I… I’m honoured.”

“Tish tosh, you need not be honoured, David. It is I who am honoured to be sitting here with you. You see, you’re the sort of person this was all built around. A hard worker, devoted family man, and above all else, to put it in its simplest form, a good man. What I strive for you all to be.”

“T-T-Thank you, I’ve always tried my best to uphold everything my parents instilled in me as I was growing up.”

“Well, David, let me tell you, your father and mother are proud of the man you have become. I know that, and I’m sure you know that as well by now.”

“Yes, yes, it’s been good catching up with them again. It seems like more years than it has been since I last saw them, and of course my dear, sweet Doris, my apple.”

“It’s what makes life—family.”

“Can I ask you something? I mean, it’s probably the same question you’re asked all the time, but why?”

He laughs. “Why what?”

“Why all this? I mean, what’s the reason for it all?”

“For it all?”

“For life?”

He laughs again. “David, I may be God, but even I don’t have all the answers—not ones that can answer that question in a way you want it to be answered, anyway. But what I can tell you is one thing, and it’s the most important piece of the puzzle that so many misinterpret. Be happy,” he says with a broad smile. “That’s all you need to be; the rest, well, that’s just how you find it.”