Alexander's Blade

Life can be hell... let's face it, for some of us, life is Hell.  So, Chuck Wendig's Flash Fiction Friday this week is for us to write about just that:  Life is Hell... well, our version of it anyway.  My version of it is what you're about to see below.  Enjoy!

“Here, take it.” He offered his blade to me – again – as he always did at the end of each and every damned day I’ve been here.

“No.” I was exhausted from his torture.

Alexander had sliced and diced me and my soul a million different ways today as I laid on his rack, while I screamed in agony.  And he enjoyed every single moment of it… as my blood poured onto the floor…

…as my bones snapped and cracked under his hands…

… as I was taken apart while my heart and mind was still intact…

Then, as the day drew to an end, I was put back together by him with a snap of his fingers, his mouth pulling up the side of his face – that snide, shitty smile I wanted to burn off his face in a second, but knew I couldn't.

“Okay.” He nodded, “Back to your chamber, arsehole.”

Tomorrow was another day of the very same thing.

But you see, time moved differently here than on topside – you know on Earth where you guys are living, where it’s peaceful.  You get to see the sun come up in the mornings.  You get to hear the birds singing and plants grow.  You get to eat fresh fruit and vegetables and have weekends and Christmas and eat chocolate and … well, live in a world where you can believe in being safe.

Here, I’m never safe.

I can’t run away from Alexander.

I know, I’ve tried to a number of times, and he’s found me each and every time.  He knows every corner of Hell and knows all the hiding places, all the passwords and who to bribe, with what and where I’d go to try to vanish… yep, he’s been here that long.

When he knew my butt was coming here, he actually volunteered to torture me.  Yeah, we go a long way back… he bullied me big time on Earth, and now he rides my soul’s butt in Hell.

How shitty can ya get, eh?

And after he pulls me apart forty ways from Sunday on his bloody, hideous blood and guts-covered rack, and he’s had his fun with me, he snaps his fingers and I’m whacked back together again and I’m forced to remember what he’s done to me for his own amusement.  And he offers me an internship… to take over torturing souls in his place.  To take up his shining, sharp blade and be his apprentice – to do his job as he watches over me – so I am always in his debt.

I always say no.

I’ve been here for fifty years (that’s five months for you guys) and I always say no, and he sends me back to my chamber where I never get to sleep, as there’s nothing comfortable about the place.  There’s no bed, nothing to sit on, no window to look out of and no peace… there’s always somebody having a screaming fit about something.

And if that’s not keeping me awake, I get visitors who are demons who look like people I’ve loved… like my Mum or my niece… just to confuse me and make me feel horrible and have nightmares when I do get the odd two hours sleep before that dim light of dawn filters through the halls and I’m dragged back to Alexander’s rack and my day starts over again.

In Hell, I’ve noticed I don’t eat anything… all there is to do is endure the torture Alexander hands out.  And this shit goes on for another thirty years before I find myself sitting there on edge of his rack, naked, covered in blood and hearing him laugh at me yet again as he asked me, “Here, take it.” And his blood-stained hand holds out that razor sharp blade to me yet again. 

The temptation is there.  I bowed my head as tears came easily, “No.”

His finger pulled my chin up to make me look at him, “Take it.”

“No.”

“Aaah, but you’re tempted.” He grinned.

Climbing off the rack, I stand ankle-deep in human remains, “Of course I am, I never will.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Alexander, no matter how much you torture me, I believe I will get out of here.” I turned and walked away from him, no longer ashamed of myself.

“Get your arse back here!” His voice thundered in his workstation and suddenly I’m strapped back onto his rack again, “Well, if I haven’t broken you by now, we’ll do double time.” He raised his hand and the shining blade began to slice my flesh again.  The pain felt as new as it did on the first day as my howls of pain echoed around the room; joining the choir of other souls of Hell.

I woke in my chamber.  My wounds were still healing.  Alexander must have lost control, I’m not sure.

“Well, you’re still alive.” A voice said at the door, “I’m thankful.”

I tried to move, but my injuries were too extensive, “Oh dear Lord, help me.”

“I heard your prayers, and I’m here to raise you from redemption.” His voice whispered in my ear as his hand touched my shoulder…

…as my wounds healed…

…as I opened my eyes and …

… woke in a hospital bed with a man next to me; the same man who was in Hell.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

“A friend.” He smiled.

“I saw you in Hell.”

“Hell is relative… everyone has their own private type.” He replied, “Yours was very real…and I had to help you out of it otherwise Alexander would have killed you.”

“How do I thank you?”

He handed me a blade, “Don’t give this to Alexander… he’ll be looking for it.”

“So, you…?” I looked down at my hand and found a tiny sword pendant in my hand, put it around my neck, and pushed it under my shirt.  This thing looked totally different in Hell.  I looked up and found the man gone, “Exactly who was that?”

A doctor walked into the room, picked up my chart and looked at me as he sat down, “Hi, Angela, my name is Alexander.  I’m here to help you.”

The Djinn's Spell

This week's Flash Fiction challenge is about 5 words... Chuck's got a list at his Terrible Minds blog... I picked out Topaz, Foxglove, Acid, Djinn and Hermit... and look what happened to those words in this story below!

“I don’t remember much, just …” I looked out the window, “…it was complicated.”

The cop opened his notebook, “Try to remember what he looked like.”

I closed my eyes and images of all kinds of things flickered across my vision, making me feel sick and I opened them again, catching my breath, “I’m sorry, I can’t right now.” I took in a deep breath and could have sworn I smelled sewer, and yet I was sitting in a hospital bed.

“Okay, no problems.” He smiled, closed his book and walked out.

I sniffed again and the awful smell of sewage was stronger.  I covered my mouth, “Oh, god… that’s awful.” As I blinked, my world flickered and was replaced by a darkened warehouse where I was being held captive by a man.  He walked down a hallway near me just out of sight.  I remember he had a Topaz ring on his right hand. I swallow thickly, “Help me…” dammit I’m weak!

His tattooed face was in mine as his hand is raised, his voice murmured, “Sleep.”

I’m back at the hospital and it’s morning and the nurses had just brought in breakfast.  They are nice and saying I’ll be leaving to go home.

What the hell did I just see?  I didn’t say anything about it otherwise they’d keep me here.

When I arrived home, I found Foxgloves in our garden in bloom.  They were so pretty. As I walked past them, I stared at them. I never remembered them being grown here… or ever seeing anything like them flower in our garden before.

“Hey, you okay, Symone?” Mum asked from the front door, “They’re just Foxgloves, we’ve had them since you were born.”

I touched the flowers and nodded, but it wasn’t all right, “I’ll be inside in a minute… the hospital gave me cabin fever.”

“Okay.” She smiled taking my bag inside.

I looked across the road and saw a man.  He appeared out of place here… as though he knew something about my place here.

That it was wrong.

The moment we made eye contact, I could smell that warehouse again, and I began to walk towards him, as he did toward me. A car went by and he disappeared… and I was left standing looking at nothing on the footpath.

I was in the wrong world… brought on by something creepy.  If this was an acid trip, it was a horrible one and I wanted off.

I wanted out and off of this acid trip now.

Somehow I end up places and have no memory of how I get there.  One minute I’m at home, the next I’m at uni.  Even though I’ve never been to uni – as it was one of my dreams and I never had the scores, I’m there with friends.  They’re all laughing and I’m sitting there feeling unusual… and some of them know it.

“Hey, listen, Symone, we know you’ve been out of it, but you’ll be okay.” They keep telling me this.  I don’t believe them.

It’s time to find out what the hell’s going on… and who was that man?

Time passes and I’ve noticed that my clothes are never clean.  I’m not sure why this is.  It just seems that the world is moving on without me and I’m stuck in the same outfit of a pair of jeans, Bruce Springsteen Concert t-shirt and sneakers; which is just getting torn and filthy.  And even when my world shifts around and I’ve gone to the library at the university, I have often found myself back at home.

Whatever this thing is doesn’t want me knowing what it is or where I really am.

“You’re Symone, right?” his voice asked.

I look up from the park bench.  It’s him – the man I spotted across the road from my house.  My voice got stuck for a moment, “Yes.”

“You’re stuck in a place that’s not your own?”

“Who are you?”

He looked around, “I’m trying to remember… but I …” tears fill his eyes, “I only know who you are.”

“You’ve been looking for me, right?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Then, help me.” I reached out to him as he did to me, but he flickered and vanished… a whimper escapes my throat, “No… please don’t leave me.”

Robert showed up at the warehouse.  Yep, this the was the place his sister vanished after a Bruce Springsteen concert three days ago.  He recognised her car not far away.

He walked inside with his silver blade dipped in lamb’s blood at the ready.  He had to save his sister and another dude who had been missing for the same length of time as her… actually the other guy was a dude she had begun dating.

He found them both side by side.  Hands tied above their heads by the wrists; and IV pushed into their corroded artery.  They didn’t look good at all, “Oh fuck.”

Then, he smelled it – Foxgloves.  The damned thing was around… and very close.

He spun and caught the Djinn in the chest with the blade, shoving it hard through the ribs, hearing them break and crack as he used his body weight to throw the demon to the floor and watch the icy blueness fade from its eyes and tattoo that had unfurled itself around its arms disappear, as though it had never existed.  Robert twisted the knife hard to make sure it was dead, “Now…” he turned as he stood and a hand with a bright blue light engulfed his vision, “What the…”

“Sleep.” A female voice whispered.

Symone sat in the park as Robert approached her and sat next to him, “I tried sis… but they have me too.”

Tears blurred her vision, “We’re just hermits in our own little world then?”

“Yeah… until they kill us,” he looked up at the sky, “, well out in the real world that is.  Then, it’s a matter of time before the authorities find our bodies.” He comforted his sister, “Where’s that guy you were dating?”

“I haven’t seen him in a while.” She sniffed against his shoulder, “What does that mean?”

“It means …” he sighed, “He’s dead, sis.”

“But my clothes are clean now.”

He looked at her, “That means you are too.”

Ten Little Chapters

Ten little chapters is what Chuck Wendig is asking us to do this week... and this is what I've done.  My Dad and I are looking for a car for me.  And so I thought to write about a creepy car.  I wouldn't want this car following me around anywhere.

Chapter One

My life changed the day I met her.  I fell in love.

She was my soul mate and I was hers.  We hung out and enjoyed the same places the same ways.  I bought her presents, and she loved me for what I did for her.  It was just how our love affair affected everyone around us that concerned me.

Everyone thought I was obsessed with my sweetheart.

They thought I was spending far too much time with her.

They wanted to break us up, but I made sure it didn’t happen… so did she.

Chapter Two

Lissa was the first person who claimed my soul mate hated her; and I had known Lissa since primary school – not much could come between us… not even a soul mate.  We swore to this.

“She tried to kill me.” The brunette sobbed into my shoulder in my kitchen, “Please, you have to stop it with her.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I promised.  I saw her to her house down the street and walked home slowly, trying to think of way around this.  Trying to find a way to find an equal ground.

But by daybreak, Lissa was dead.

Chapter Three

I had more friends tell me that my relationship with my soul mate was becoming lethal within weeks of Lissa’s funeral.  And I was finding that she was keeping secrets from me – secrets I found around the place – like the odd garment with what looked like paint on it, but it was blood.

I didn’t have the stomach to ask if she had been out ‘dealing’ with my friends her own way.

Stupidly, I chose to ignore it.

Chapter Four

Even when I moved, my problems with my soul mate moved with me… so knew it wasn’t something my old friends did.

It was something about her.

She was the jealous type; and I should have seen this in her after the first month.  But I didn’t, and wouldn’t, see it.

I started to drink, so I didn’t have to go out with her.

Chapter Five

I got to a point where I had to sneak out to go anywhere, but my soul mate found me more times than not.  I’d walk out of a club with some people and there’d she be across the road under the street light staring at me.

Shit it felt like she was stalking me just to see where I was going… I think it was.  So, I reported her to the police, and they laughed at me, just as I thought they would.

I hated myself for doing it and drank more.

Chapter Six

It was hard living with something like this.

My friends were in danger of me ever speaking to them.

My family couldn’t visit without her intimidating them.

I noticed that, within a few months of moving into my new house, the neighbours were crossing the road to make sure they didn’t have to speak to me.

My soul mate was getting bored with me – I could tell.

She went out without me a lot and came home in the early hours of the morning… I’d hear the garage door close and the alarm switch on.

Chapter Seven

Pretty soon, I was hearing news reports of mystery where men were found dead at the local make-out places.  A certain type would frequent there every other night and leave at around 4am, leaving a body nearby.

This was something I was afraid of that she’d do.

It was time to move again.

Damn.

This time, I had to leave her behind.  I had to move without telling her anything… but how would I do it?

Chapter Eight

Within the week, I found a new place.  I had searched at work, explaining to my boss that my jealous ex-girlfriend couldn’t know where I was moving to and if it was okay to use my workplace as storage until the big move.

He understood perfectly, “Of course.  Sorry to see you go so soon.  Enjoy working in the San Fran office.”

Over the next month, I moved my stuff into boxes and to the office with a friend’s car.  Then, my moving day arrived on the last Friday of the month.

Chapter Nine

I had left my soul mate without so much as a goodbye.

I didn’t miss her.

I felt relief.

It was so good to be away from her.  I felt so free. 

San Francisco’s beautiful views and the bay were just lovely.  Within a few weeks, I met my neighbours and we all got along really well.  Parties were had on the roof and I enjoyed the gorgeous bookstores in the city.

But one day, I sat in the park, and could swear I saw my soul mate down near the water.  I shaded my eyes…

Chapter Ten

... and by the time I focused on the road along the water, I saw nothing but parked cars and other people.

But I was still spooked just a little.

“Hey, you okay?” Brian asked from the gazebo, “Who are you looking for?  We’re all here.”

“Yeah, I thought I saw an old friend from another city… somebody I broke up with.”

“Oooh… stalker.” He teased.

But I couldn’t shake my feeling.

That night, I opened my window to let in the warm Summer air.  I looked down to the street to find her parked… the bitch on wheels… my 1987 Toyota Celica Liftback