Saturday, 28 June 2014

Poor Little Rich Girl

My parents weren’t bad – not really.  After all, they gave me everything I ever wanted in life.

I got a top notch education.  I drove the best sports car around.  I had an unlimited amount on my credit card to use.  My Dad even got me a gun licence…but that's not why I hated them.

I hated them because they said: ‘No.’ once to me… just once, and it was for the silliest thing too. 

I wanted to get married.

Now, that’s not so bad is it?  Nah, it isn’t.  But I wanted to marry my high school sweetheart.  My folks didn’t like him at all.  According to them, he was wrong for me in every single way.

He struggled for money – he had two part time jobs; one after school and one on the weekend, so I barely saw him unless I hung out with him at the diner and we chatted during the slow moments during his shift or before his shift.

He didn’t have a sports car or a credit card, or anything to the likes that I had… no, what he had was life experience.  Richard was a lovely young man who loved me because I wasn’t rich.  He loved me for who I wasn’t to my parents.  There was something special in me he adored that I hadn’t noticed; not until he took me to the gun range and taught me to use that gun Dad bought me on my 18th birthday; soon after I received my licence for it.

Richard said I was a natural… how cool was that?

He took me away for the weekend out into the desert where we practiced shooting at cans and bottles at a distance.

He told me that I was getting better and better each time.  I was thrilled!  Then we sat around the fire and dreamed about the places we’d go after school – after university – and how our love couldn’t die. 

Now you tell me, how could parents hate a guy like this?  A guy who was teaching me something my Dad wouldn’t teach me about something he bought me.  A guy who would never let anything bad happen to me.  A guy who cared about me – loved me, heart, body, mind and soul – and didn’t want to leave me side. 

I got to meet Richard’s parents.  They were hard-working people who lived a basic life on what my parents called ‘the wrong side of the tracks’… and yet they managed to keep a roof over their heads, paid their bills on time and food on the table.  The red meat that graced their table was amazingly fresh!  And I was invited to dinner in a minute, but Richard didn’t want me to stay; instead driving me home.

“I don’t want you to ever eat at my house.” He said as he pulled into my long, winding driveway and took his time as the action-lights blinked on all the way up along the asphalt.  Before I could ask why, he glanced at me, “Don’t ask me why, just don’t eat there.”

“Okay.” I nodded.

He pulled his pick-up around the circular driveway, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” I smiled, “Have you got the day off?”

“Yes.” He nodded, “My boss gave in to my asking for one weekend – finally.” He leaned over and kissed me, held me close, “I love you Lyndsay.”

“I love you too.”

The next morning, I heard on the news that Richard’s diner had been robbed – the owner’s remains had been found not far from his house.  I was shocked!  I wondered if what Richard had told me had something to do with why he never liked me eating at his folks’ house… really did make you wonder.  Before I wondered anymore, I received a message on my phone from Richard: ‘You heard about the diner? OMG!  I can’t believe my boss is dead! Pls meet me at the gate.’

I grabbed my pushbike and cycled down to the gate where his pick-up was waiting and he was leaning up against it, “Lyndsay.  I don’t know what to say.”

“What was that at your folks’ house?” I asked.

He looked down, “They call it venison.  It’s not.”

“Answer me.” I walked my bike to him, “Look at me and tell me the truth.”

His eyes met mine, “Lawnpig.” He frowned when I didn’t answer, “Lyndsay, my family… are…” he took in a deep breath, “They don’t eat beef or pork, their meat runs around on two legs.”

I stepped back as my bike dropped to ground, “What?”

“This is why I befriended you.” He said, “I can’t do what I need you to do… and you’ll get away with it because you’re rich.”

My gut cooled as I swallowed thickly, “You’re kidding right?”

“You’re Daddy’s Little Girl, he’d never see you doing this kind of thing; and I’ll take the blame.” He said, “After all, they’re my parents; not good ones either.” He looked at me, “And your parents aren’t any better.”

The sirens are getting louder as I sit here in the corner.  I have blood all over me.  It’s painted all over the walls, floor and spattered aross the ceiling of this house; and none of it is mine.There’s Richard’s family everywhere – all dead.  He’s here too, but I killed him as well – because he turned on me when I pulled out my gun.

I had no choice.

I had been invited over for a ‘nice visit to get to know you’.

Even Richard fell for it.  In truth, they knew his little plan to get rid of them; and I was next on their menu – so was my family.

When the police pushed the door open, I saw them walk in, but didn’t resist.  Instead, I just put the gun on the floor and began to cry.

My parents weren’t bad – not really.  After all, they gave me everything I ever wanted in life.

Saturday, 21 June 2014

Vengeful Bitch

He never knew what hit him.

Not until I came along.

But really, I knocked him off his feet… spun his head around and loved him right. 

He enjoyed me for me… and I loved him from the bottom of my soul to the end of time.

That was until he cheated on me with another woman and thought I’d never know.

I did.

He smelled different.

He acted different.

He treated me … different.

Okay, it was the same, but still I noticed the small things about him that only a girlfriend would notice when her man has done something wrong… and he hopes she never picks up on it.

But I did, and what I was going to do about it was going to make him pay.

I planned a surprise for him on our first year anniversary.  I can cook gourmet… and I mean, really gourmet.  So, I tracked down his other favourite red meat… and she was still nice, fresh and on the run.  It didn’t take much to take it down.  And the police report said it was an animal attack.

One of my other friends – who is like me – helped me get rid of the dregs that I couldn’t use.  He’s a butcher; in every sense of the word, and he was more than happy to take the rest of the stuff I couldn’t use off my hands at a price. 

Hey, okay, I maxed out my credit card… but this was worth it.

Then, he arrived home and I was dressed in my sexiest lingerie with the whip and handcuffs at the ready.  He dropped his briefcase and took up the large glass of scotch I had ready in my leather-gloved hand.

“Oh, baby!”  he grinned, “I thought you had forgotten.”

“No.” I smiled, “Come here, Loverboy.”

He put his filthy mitts all over me and I almost snapped his neck right there; but then, my surprise would have been wreck.  I had to play this out properly. 

We ate dinner… well, he attacked the wonderfully hot meal I had created.  I told him I had eaten earlier (which I had… the heart her was tasty) before I put a small amount of downer in his drink and he guzzled that down.  He hit the floor harder than I expected.

The glutton.

His eyes opened to me tying him to the bedposts with my scarves.  He was naked, so was I.  He loved it when I took control like this; and I could see he was being turned on about this.  And let’s face it, I loved being in control as much as he loved me taking it.

I pulled out the body paint with some of her blood mixed into it… and the sheer smell of it make my mouth water.  I grabbed a paintbrush and smoothed some of it onto his body as he sighed watching me lick it off.  His cock twitched and moved as I placed the container on the bedside table with some of the bloody chocolate dripping down the side; my hand enclosing his sex and playing with it… he was really getting into it.


“Yeah…” he groaned, his head lost in the pillows as my playing became a little rougher, and he squirmed on the bedding.

“I hope you enjoyed your meal tonight.”

“Yeah, I did.” He smiled, “Delicious.”

“Good.  Glad you enjoyed her… fully.”

“What?” his head snapped up, his eyes looked at me.  He had learned to take careful note of what I said and how I said things, “Her?”

I let go of his manhood and straddled him so he was forced to look at me.  I rested my hands on his chest, “Yes, her.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.” A smile crept onto my face.  I observed him as he began to freak out; as he figured out that I knew about his affair, “But sweetheart, I know about her.”

Guilt flickered across his face, “And you have had her for the very last time tonight.”

“No I didn’t… I’ve been here with…” then the penny dropped.  I almost heard it hit the bottom of the very empty skull of his as his mind ticked over and he whimpered, “Oh shit, you didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.” I nodded, “And now, you will never see her again.”
He turned an unhealthy colour, as though he was going to be sick before he be pulling against his ties, “You’re psychotic!”

“You’re unfaithful.”

“But how did you know?”

I locked eyes with him, letting him see what most men don’t, “I’m not completely human.”

For a long minute, he simply just stared into my eyes.  They were a lovely colour of green one moment, then turned a bright amber the next, “I’m part human, part wolf.  So, when you came home all freshly showered saying you had been to a new gym to try it out, I could still smell her perfume on you.”  I blinked and my eyes went back to green, “But then, I knew you had her every week – every night – you said you were working late.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Well, you know I killed her.  So, I can’t let you live.” I regarded him, “And you usually let me go to my mother’s house on a full moon.”

“Oh shit…” his eyes scanned the darkened room helplessly as I heard his heart rate increase.  Oh!  The excitement of your prey panicking… trying to find a way out when there is none is just hilarious when you’re the one who is tracking them down.

“Yes, oh shit.”

He started shaking… I love this part… but he had yet to see me change from human into wolf.  This part isn’t pretty, and I usually don’t let anyone see it, but tonight is special; and I was hoping to let him and his terror take on another shade – namely red – the same shade as my anger towards him.

The wolf inside me howled, breaking through my feeble human exterior.  I let it through happily this time.  I wanted to let it through to take over what I couldn’t do.  The last thing I remember before it turned out my lights was the look of horror on his face as the wolf ripped out his still-beating heart.

The early morning sun beat red through my eyelids as I heard sirens in the distance.  I opened them to be greeted by my friend who had found me in bushland behind my house with a suitcase.  He put it on the ground, opened it and quietly helped me clean up, get dressed and finally held me close as I started to cry.

“Did I do the right thing?” I sobbed.

“Yes.” He said, “Sara, I would have done the exact same thing if the person I devoted my life to had cheated on me… that the thing with us, we must find loyal partners; otherwise it doesn’t work.  And for you it didn’t work.”

The sirens were closer now.

“It’s time to go.” I stood, taking a deep breath in the chilly air.  But I wasn’t sure where I was going.

He gave me a set of car keys, “Here, take my car.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I have another with my wife in it.  She knows what happened and told me to help you.” He pushed the keys into my hand, “But, please just stick to animal hearts okay?”

“Well, until the next dickhead breaks mine again.”

He smiled, “Yeah.  That was fun.”

Saturday, 14 June 2014

The White Lady

Chuck gave us cocktails to work off.  Our title was a cocktail and we based our flash fiction on it.  Mine?  The White Lady... pretty cool.  I've never drunk it as I don't drink alcohol... but ooohhh... it's getting late and my imagination is working overtime.

The cell was crowded, but she was there standing outside the bars looking at me smiling… and it was all her fault.

I hated her for what she made me do at the bar.

Out in the car park…

…oh, God, to that cop…

Tears blurred my vision as I looked down again whispering, “Shit.”

The problem was that nobody believed me about her… they said there was nobody of her description near me when I exploded into that white hot rage she caused when she was nearby.

And glancing around, I’d say a few of these guys in the drunk tank have seen their fair share of their own pink elephants, green imps and crap-arse nymphs flippin’ them the bird from a tree branch in their time.  But for me, it was the White Lady who got me in trouble each and every time… and I mean the drink and that bitch over there.

Now, let me start from the beginning… okay?

My mates and me were going out on the town to enjoy our evening.  We hit a few clubs and sunk a few brews before we decided to have a couple of cocktails with some ladies… they were sweet, sexy and dressed to rock-and-or-roll!  You know that type, one or two were teases, there was always one dressed like a dude who was normally the leader of the pack (and kept her head above water, even if she did get a few into her), and then there were the ones who looked like they just got out of control no matter what the leader did to help them.  But they were all in for a great time.

The great time turned nasty very quickly; and thanks to the leader of the ladies pack, they split in time for me to lose it.  How that happened was that they started ordering cocktails… you know the types:  very strong ones… Flaming Lamborghinis, Sex on the Beach and Hurricane’s Winter (yeah that last one was a new one I’ve never heard of, but it kicked arse!).  Then, one of them ordered everyone The White Lady… well, we were all off our faces enough from the strong ones, but when this last one hit us, it hit us bad – or good, it depends on how it affected each of us. 

Some of the girls were crook as hell.  The leader was violent and picked a fight with me, which she won, but got put into the ladies’s lockup for the night.  But I heard her talking about the white lady telling her to do all that shit… now, I hadn’t drunk my White Lady cocktail when she was blathering about this.  And when I did, my whole world turned upside down.

One minute it was great, the next?  Well, I found myself on the ground with two cops sitting on me and cuffing me, telling me my rights and that bitch dressed in white smirking at me from inside the paddy wagon… she chatted to me all the way to the station; whispering into my ear.  I did my best to ignore her and ended up pushing my face into the corner crying because she just wouldn’t shut the fuck up!

Now, I’m here, she standing there staring me down. 

Her voice is going around and around in my head.

And that bloody smirk is really getting on my nerves!  But I am trying to stay calm… I won’t break… I swear.


I feel like hell.

But the white lady isn’t around anymore… damn.  It was the drink that caused my problems.

How the hell am I going to convince the court about this?

My folks bail me out and I’m taken home.

Mum and Dad sit me down and talk to me… asking me what the hell went wrong and I tell them what I remember, but they exchange a look that only means that there’s more to this story.

“Sweetie, your friends are dead.” Mum said.

Dad frowns, “You went into a rage and killed them.”


They can tell I honestly don’t know what they’re talking about.

My court date has arrived.  I’m fumbling with my tie… and Dad fixes it for me.  It’s the middle of Winter and I’m sweating like a pig.

“I’m scared out of my mind.”

He stops fixing it and looks me in the eye, and I know he’s scared too, “Yeah, same here.”

Mum calls from the living room, “It’s time to go.”

Man, I looked and sounded like a mad man in court that day.  The judge gave me a withering look for the whole time I spoke; but he seemed to listen to my side of the story as my friends’ parents glared at me from across the peanut gallery. 

I had one problem in that courtroom that day… the white lady was sitting in the far back corner.  And when the lawyer asked me if I saw the person who provoked me in the room that day, I said yes and pointed her out.

But nobody saw her, and so it wasn’t recorded legally.

I’m sitting in the day room of the institution writing this out in a diary; just as the shrink has asked me to.  She told me that they’ve seen so many people pass through here due to that new cocktail who have lost so many friends to what it does to them. 

The white lady is in here too… her voice is in my head all the time.

She in my dreams…

The white lady won’t leave me alone… and my shrink knows it.   

It really makes you wonder…

Exactly how many people are in here who can see the white lady?  And…

…is she sitting across from them now, as she is sitting with me now, whispering always in my ear… to always … do … bad.