AUSTRALIAN HORROR AUTHOR
A haemorrhage,
blisters and pus,
cynical membrane,
polished rust,
we weather the kingdom,
to spoil the spiders,
suffocating the children,
of a tomorrow unseen,
a dance you call for,
a madness of fortunate beings,
ten times in a row,
one whisper to know,
we see the segment,
we see the tickets go,
symbol of sickness,
parts played,
roles sold…
The candle gently flickers in the breeze at first, before the winds come down upon it like a violent storm, relentlessly thrusting itself at the small flame.
He casts a fevered glace over to her, and then back at the flame.
“Do you see now? Do you finally understand it?”
Stay classy, what the fuck is it supposed to mean? I mean seriously, when some fucking numb skull gives you a wink and says, stay classy kid, how the fuck are you supposed to take it? I guess to really understand the meaning behind something, you really have to know what sort of situation it was used in, then you’d know what it was used to reference in the first place, and thus understand it’s end meaning.
Are you confused yet?
Well let me give you a quick rundown on my experience, and it starts and ends with local mobster, Frank Galboni. You see, old Frank gave me a wink and a click of his fingers and said those fucking words, stay classy, all while two of his goons had their pistols embedded in either side of my skull. Did I deserve to be in a position like that? Yeah maybe. See only a few short minutes before all this took place, I was one finger deep inside his eighteen-year-old daughter while her twenty-year-old sister blew me off. I was trapped within the perfect storm, and Frank walked in while I was letting lose my seed in her mouth, and that’s how I ended up on my knees, dick out and pistols to the head.
That’s when it all happened. As Frank was walking away, he turned to me, winked, clicked his fingers and said, ‘stay classy kid.’ Now I’ve got to be honest, those words confused the fuck out of me, because I couldn’t figure out if he were secretly patting me on the back for scoring the way I had with his two daughters or not. Everyone knows Galboni likes to play around on his wife with as many pieces of tail as he can. Not that she complains, she knows what he does but she wants for nothing, and she can have anyone she wants when she wants, and I know it’s true because I’ve been there. Two nights before all this happened, I turned up because an old pal of mine worked for Galboni and was trying to help me get some work. Anyway, the next thing I know I’m face deep between her legs, covered in her juices as she’s slobbering over my cock. Galboni didn’t have a problem with me that night, he even gave me a job out of how well I serviced his wife, so why crack the shits over me doing his daughters? But that’s all here nor there, the worst part is that I knew I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, but I needed to know what he meant by the stay classy remark. It was probably heightened by the fact that I knew his two goons were going to put their bullets into my skull, so I took a quick breath and called out.
“Mister Galboni, can I ask a question before your boys make a mess out of my head?” I called out, Galboni took his hand off the door handle and after a few seconds he turned around and stared me down.
“What?”
“The stay classy line, I’ve got to ask. Did you mean it as a good thing? Like you did good kid. I liked the way you scored with those bitches. Or did you mean it in a sarcastic Al Capone, your dead sort of way?”
“Seriously kid, did you just call my baby girls bitches?”
“I know, I know, it shouldn’t be what’s worrying me. I know it should be your boys and their toys that should be my real concern. But fuck me, I can’t get past that stay classy comment. Please, you’ve got to let me know what you meant?”
“Kid it meant nothing. It’s just a fucking saying you stupid FUCK!” he yelled as he drove a baseball bat down onto my head. I still don’t ever remember seeing him pick it up, but obviously he must have, from somewhere. Anyway, I felt the first two hits, and they hurt like fucking hell, but after that it was pretty much nothing. As I lay there, not feeling a thing, I couldn’t get that line out of my head, and that’s when it happened. The old fucker keeled over after he brought the tenth swing of the bat down upon my cracked open skull. Seems the godfather had a bad ticker and it just fucking stopped, too much stress I presume. The poor old fucker fell face down in a puddle of my blood, dead as a door nail. But it was in that moment that I finally understood, and I’ll tell you something, he looked fucking classy all the way.
***
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Before you lies a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know or imagine. For scrawled in blood upon the pages hidden within the above tome is stories twisted thirty-one in all, soaked in the embers of my insanity. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to answer, five minutes to sin, five minutes to do almost anything. A god, a demon, a harlot, a whore. A fascist, a killer, a sinner, a door. Death and division, humanity askew. A belfry of bats, a sea of black cats, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride with me too…
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“West was where they told me to head, but I knew it was a trap.” he says as he slowly runs a finger over the rim of the glass, allowing his flesh to drink the cold water into the deep crevasses that twist and turn their way across his flesh.
“Of course I understand,” she says with a bemused smile upon her lips. “But you realise if this goes ahead. If the world needs to see with their own eyes what has happened, it will rest upon your shoulders to usher in that factoid.”
He raises an eyebrow in wonderment and twists his lips in several unusual angles. “Why do you make it sound such a negative thing? When I joined this house, I joined to rid the plateau of the insignificant cattle that wander the wilderness free to do what they so desire. I will gladly be the voice, if that is what is asked of me by the great elders.”
She allows herself to giggle, as she gently takes the bloody knife from his hands and places her perfectly pink hand softly on his. Wide and clear his eyes open, as blood cascades through his tiny form and rushes to his already engorged penis. “You must be everything, or nothing,” she says with a purr, as her hand runs slowly from his hand, to his leg. “You are to be the master, and the accused.”
“W-W-What do-do you me-mean?” He asks through trembling lips, as pre-cum escapes his delicately balanced seesaw.
She pulls her hand away, and gently flicks her fingers through his hair, as she lightly presses her lips against his ear.
“You will be the all and the everything. You will be the face, the voice, and the name of who we are Maximilian. You will have power beyond that of which you begged so freely for, and all you need do is be wunderbar!”
He giggles, as he tries to pull away, but she grips his head and holds him tightly against her, as she bites lightly down upon his earlobe.
“Where are you running to? We have pleasures to experience, you and I Maximilian,” she hisses, as he explodes in his pants and lets out a muffled groan.
“M-MMY NAMES MAXXXX! N-N-NOT MAXIM-M-MILIAN!” He cries out loudly. She pulls away, and is quickly to her feet, looking down upon him with disgust. “W-W-What’s wrong?” He stammers.
“You, YOU are wrong! You come here hidden with desires not of the ilk we call for. Your blasphemous words misconstrued into meaning. Then, to insult the final pillar of all we are, you deny your birth name and it’s righteous place among the heavens trilogy.” She spits like a venomous snake, while pointing a perfectly manicured finger at him.
“I-I-I, if it’s w-w-wh-what you want, I’ll use Maximilian, n-no worries at al-all. I-I, I never realised it was a p-p-pro-problem,” he stutters. Her left eyebrow takes a sharp nosedive, while her right arches high into the air.
“Do you swear, from this moment onwards, with me as your witness, swear it to be so. Swear upon the words of our founder. Swear upon the meal you are about to ingest. Swear, and you will be welcomed with open arms,” she says, an indescribable power ebbing from each word.
He nods his head in a panic, “Y-Y-Yes, I-I, swear. I SWEAR! Just tell me what I must do, and I will do it without fear or question.”
She smiles broadly and opens her robe, revealing her naked body. “Now eat from the womb of life, and then I will dine upon your seed, for that is his rule, and ever shall it be,” she says as she lies back, and he buries his head between her thighs…
***
Follow the below link to purchase 2020 Book Nine to read all 20 five minute short stories.
Before you lies a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know or imagine. For scrawled in blood upon the pages hidden within the above tome is stories twisted twenty in all, soaked in the embers of my insanity. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to answer, five minutes to sin, five minutes to do almost anything. A god, a demon, a harlot, a whore. A fascist, a killer, a sinner, a door. Death and division, humanity askew. A belfry of bats, a sea of black cats, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride with me too…
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The knife twists perilously in the air, ever driving downwards, towards the already blood stained rather below it.
With exhausted eyes and a reflex long shot, Jarmil watches as the knife digs into the soil, and sucks in his last breath as a powerful hand rests itself upon his shoulder.
“That’s what I mean Damon, you can’t be trusted.” she says with a evil grin upon her face.
“I didn’t realise it was a negative.”
“You wouldn’t, your kind never do.”
“My kind? Are you shoehorning me into a category?”
“If I could, I’d shove you in something far finer!”
The blade digs into the flesh, tearing at it like a newborn baby does its mothers teats. He lets out a gargled cry for help, while he helplessly stares into her glee filled eyes.
“W-W-Why?” he stammers.
“Sometimes there is no way lover, sometimes it is just what it is.”
“So you tell me that now, when we have grow close. Why couldn’t you have said something earlier, like real early. Before I…”
“Before you what?” he asks with a bemused smile upon his face.
“Before I actually started to like you!”
He laughs softly, “So you do like me!”
A walnut brown,
twisted frame,
hard bodied surfer,
semen stains shorts,
blisters on the palms of hands.
surgical percussion,
transgender lies,
mythical bathtubs falling from the sky,
wanting wisdom,
while believing lies,
whispered words of intimacy,
an exit turned into an entrance,
friendships lost,
weathered worn,
my eyes darkened,
forgiveness nevermore….
Dollars for the insults,
with pennies for the clowns,
a Wednesday worthy of substance,
a substance unworthy to be found,
hallowed fortress given strength,
a watched kettle on the fritz,
my name dragged through the sand,
a witness gone missing never to be found,
your fondness was a virtue,
but my blade was too quick,
a sea of red,
three feet down,
spoiled flesh,
of a dirt nap lover…
They stand staring out of the doorway, mesmerised at the nothingness that quietly sits before then.
“Do you think it’s true? Do you think what it said holds even half a truth?”
He snarls, bering his teeth like a rabid animal.
“If you don’t want to answer the question, don’t!”
A showdown of the former self,
wisdom lost in the snow of serendipity,
we perfect false realities upon ourselves,
hiding even deeper than before,
a mirror held before you,
a window broken now,
eyes are holes we see through,
our mouths through lies are told,
sin is given like candy,
perfection is the painting,
life is the canvas,
death the brush stroke to be done..
When I was a child,
who knew nothing of the world,
a child of ignorance,
a child without care,
the world moved forward,
and time ticked as well,
life became a masterpiece,
life became a lie,
lost in the ignorance of the child,
who is not to helpless to care,
struggling as an adult,
cracking and faltering,
falling and struggling,
the child I was,
would’ve hated this man,
the child I was,
wouldn’t give a damn,
whispers of stories,
crayons and chalk,
screaming at midnight,
for that’s when my nightmares start…
“It’s a frost you fool, nothing more, nothing less. Had you looked over the itinerary before hand, you would’ve know that then, not now.” he growls through gritted teeth.
“To do that, I’d have to know what was happening before hand, instead on the fly?”
“You’d say anything, wouldn’t you!”
The door was locked and the room was empty,
the woman says she has made her own hair,
fill the space with what is lost,
whisper in silence for you to see,
because you know that it is blind,
can I think the same,
do you want me to see,
when you are already unable to,
tomorrow is a perfect day,
for I saw it turn into today,
a window before,
a door soon,
we call the errors of our way,
while mistaking our time for relevant..
Within the darkness a deafness starts,
regurgitated from a story past,
told without the real names said,
a deed of dastardliness was performed,
piled upon the old and new,
buried beneath galvanised flesh,
vindictive processes,
flatulent and forty,
feeble and alone,
a mirror masked in indifference,
a lie standing within the truth,
see the mirror and see the lies,
ignore your reflection as you believe in the lies..
Windows to the soul,
a twisted road to the sin of who is hiding within,
all those dreams I had when I was you,
all the images bad and shiny,
blackening my door,
holding me at bay from the world beyond me,
locking my eyes away,
the mirror fades,
the door unlocks,
the sickness of the human body,
we realise how many stories we have told,
when the image before us is not who we are,
ashamed of the vison before me,
who was I meant to be,
who have I become,
would the child in me be happy with who I am today?
Sickness in the lies told,
a ghost of the past,
a mirror of the child I was,
a life lost in those eyes,
I gave you my all,
and then you left me,
you saw me for who I was,
a pale imitation,
a locked doorway without a key,
hide the wickedness,
bury the hope,
a life lived halfway,
a mirror covered by the blanket of the past,
tearing the part of me away,
who do I see,
when I look into those empty eyes?
He places a hand on top of Sandra’s and squeezes. “How’re you holding up honey?”
She nods her head, and smiles softly. “I’m doing okay Papa Joe, how’re you doing with it all?”
He shrugs and curls his shaking lips.”Me, I’m looking to kill me some piece of shit traitor!”
