Binary Houses

Chuck has given us two lists of labels this time around. I chose 'Binary' from list 1 and 'Houses' from list 2. It's late at night here, and my mind is particularly open tonight - very much in the mode of 'The Matrix' ... 

enjoy!

I live therefore I am.

I think that’s how it’s supposed to be here.

Well, that’s what they’ve told me… whoever ‘they’ are.

It’s time to collect the mail. The front door is old and made of oak and I have to open it myself by turning the handle and pulling it towards me, and I leave the warmth of the house to walk outside into the chill of the afternoon. There’s three or four steps to the gravel walk out to the letterbox where the postie has left my letters.

It’s the 1980’s. Duran Duran, David Bowie and Queen are big on the radio and ‘Who’s the Boss’ and ‘Saved by the Bell’ and ‘Welcome Back Kotter’ are some of the best shows around – as well as ‘Mork & Mindy’ reruns.

But unlike my neighbours, I’ve seen all of those shows before.

This is an experiment on the Human Mind – to see how far ‘they’ can push us before we snap. Well, I think so anyway. Truthfully, I don’t quite remember how I got to be here. This is my third house – my third time around the decades – and I never seem to return to the same place I did before. And I seem to forget which year I started out in… but I know I began further into the future than now; as I know what a mobile phone, a modem and a Gigabyte is. 

So, I know I’m not from this time.

However, I can’t tell anyone around me… well, not yet. But I am keeping a diary about this – which always seems to travel with me. So ‘they’ are controlling this in some sick way. I don’t know how they control it, but they do.

“How is she doing?” Raymond asks the controller.

Tank looks over at him, “I didn’t think this was such a great idea to start with, and I still don’t.”

“What year is she in?”

The graying man sighs, “The mid-80’s.”

“Does she remember?”

“No.  And that’s a problem… what happens when she comes back to us?” Tank looks over at Raymond, who’s not looking at him.

The Irishman watches her intently, “Just keep taking her back.”

Night falls and I eventually go to bed to the near-silence of the area around me. It’s alien to me as I’m used to so much more noise of the city. I feel uneasy as I drift off – as though I’ve suffering from sea-sickness  a little – but I can’t stop as I …

My eyes snap open and I find my bedroom is totally different. I’m in a water bed! Shag carpeting covers the floor and a macramé wall-hanging haunts the wall as the paisley wallpaper begins to give off a weird LSD kinda vibe.

“Oh crap! I’m in the 70’s!” I crawl out of bed and find I’m in a flimsy nightie that passes for sexy for those times and cringe, “Oh, yuk!” opening the wardrobe does me no favours as I find a collection of bad, awful colours all clashing together in such a way, I didn’t want to get dressed in any of it – but I did; managing to pull together a decent outfit from that mess they called style back then.

I spent another day in another decade of time… writing down my observations. I had to leave the house – as usual – and then I had to come home as well. It was fortunate that I knew how to use Corningware cookware as my Mum gave me some and I learned how to get in and use it a few years ago.

But it wasn’t until I left the house and went to the store that I knew I really didn’t fit in.

The people were looking at me strangely.

They knew I wasn’t from this time – this era.

I had to find my way back home … wherever that may be.

I returned back to the house and locked myself in, feeling as though I was going to be followed home by a mob with pitchforks and torches… as though I was going to be lynched. But as I watched the day pass, nobody approached the house, nobody rang the doorbell… the phone didn’t even ring. It was all in my mind. I ate dinner and went to bed after watching ‘Dragnet’ and enjoying a nice cup of tea and reading a little until around 10pm. I have to get out of this – I want to go back home… to my real home now.

Tank watched her carefully. He was becoming worried about her state of mind. He noticed that she had had a freak-out during the 1970’s excursion and noted it down on the EEG and his notes nearby. He left them in clear view for Raymond to see, but the man didn’t seem to see them – or he didn’t seem to give a rat’s arse about her. He was going to stop the experiment now.

“What are you doing!” Raymond shouted.

“She’s not dealing very well.” Tank said, “The matrix is screwing with her state of mind. I’m bringing her home.”

“No! We keep going!” he shoved his chair away from the keyboard and touch-screen, “You do as you’re told!”

Tank stood from his chair, towering over the young man, “I am doing what I think is healthy for her. She is being brain-fucked by a computer program and doesn’t remember signing on for a time-traveling experiment. So, Raymond, you better back off and let me do my job or you’ll be the next one I’ll send out into the matrix to see how far I can you send back without warning!” He took a step forward, to which Raymond backed up, “And maybe I’ll send you to the Dark Ages, see what they think of your red hair then… what was the myth back then? All redheads were vampires?”

“Okay… you do your job. Bring her back.” Raymond walked out of the room as Tank sat back down and started to bring back the woman he had plugged into the system three days ago.

I woke up in a hospital bed.

Tank was by my side holding my hand, “Sara?”

“Tank.” I think that was his name.

“Yes… that’s me.” He smiled, “You were freaking out in the matrix, so I brought you home.”

I looked around the room and thought that some flowers would be nice. Right before our eyes, a vase of flowers grew out of the table at the end of the bed. They were bright, real and vibrant, “Woah!”

He rose and looked at them, tentatively touching them, “They’re real.” He turned to me, “How did you do that?”

“I… um… just thought it would be nice to have some flowers in here; and they showed up.”

Tank stared at them. I just couldn’t understand his face as he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on, “I’m going to take you home, okay?” he turned from the bed and walked out without waiting for an answer.

We arrived home late that night and he let me stay in his guest room. I thought that was sweet of him and slept really well. When I woke, I looked around the plain white room and thought that it would look better if the room was a more appealing colour – like an Apricot colour with white skirting. As though by magic, the room changed colour and feel. Just as my feet were about to touch the cold pearl tiles, the flooring changed to white shag carpeting; which was very soft under my feet. On opening the curtains, I found it was raining and wished it would stop … as though on command, the clouds moved away and the sun spilled through.

“My God, what are you doing.” Raymond’s voice asked from the doorway, “You can’t change the world like this.”

I turned from the window, “Why can’t I?”

“Because you’re still in the matrix and Tank and I duplicated it all to make you feel as though you came home.” He said.

“How do you know he followed through with what you ordered him to do?” I said, “I could have been the architect of this whole world and you wouldn’t have known… after all, I started losing my mind in the 1970’s. So, how do you know if I didn’t take control then and just overrode the system, making it all feel as though you and Tank – and everyone else in the world…” I turned to the day outside for a moment, then turned back to him, “… were just living in an ordinary life; when really you've have been under my thumb since you pushed my mind to the very limit of breaking.”

“Well…” he stammered.

“Shut up.”

He did, tried to speak and found he couldn’t.

“Raymond, you tried to control me by sending me back in time. Yes, it was a good experiment to see how my childhood would have been like had I not been born with a medical condition. But you were going to send me further back – back before I was born – and that would have screwed with not only physics but the Natural Order. This isn’t a good thing… and the problem was that you sent me back before 1973; and this is where I could start to control the world – the matrix, the very fabric of the world – and make it my own.” I smiled, “The Binary Houses was fun, but the communities weren’t. I knew I didn’t belong and people there knew too. Now… I can change what needs to be changed and you, Raymond, must change when I order you to.”

Tank walked into the room, “Raymond, I didn’t hear you come in. Did Sara ask for you?” he looked over at me, “What are you going to do with him, dear?”

“I’m going to make him pay.” Snapping my fingers I sent Raymond back to the last place he sent me back to – the early 1970’s. He was sent there without any way to come back home, but I could keep an eye on him of course … 

...because I’m the Architect, after all. 

Armageddon

This is the first Flash Fiction in a fortnight... as Chuck has been crook as a chook (battling the flu) and this week, he gave us 'The Dragon' to write about. Word limit was 2,000 words - but I made it to 1,444. Some of this is true, some of it is made up. The domestic violence and going to a shrink part is true, so is the Anxiety Dragon. However, I haven't let mine out of control. And yes, my little Dragon looks exactly like this one ... he's such a cutie! 

Enjoy!


It’s a beautiful morning today. The sun is shining after a night of pouring rain; and that freshly watered smell of Mother Nature is in the air.

Yes, I love that scent – that perfume – that makes me want to go outside into my garden and pull out some weeds before breakfast, after I’ve put the coffee pot on the stove and set the timer.

But I never used to be that way.

I used to have to see a shrink to think straight. My anxieties were dreadful. I could barely get through a night without waking up screaming, running around my locked house trying to get away from my nightmares of … well, let’s not go into that. That’s in my past, and if you want to know about my nightmares, you’re quite welcome to nose around in my Dream Journals (it’s all in there).

Today, I’ve opened the sliding door, gone outside and stepped out onto the lovely wet lawn and started pulling the weeds out by the roots. This is best time of day to get in and really work on them; when the soil is still soaking wet.

A lot of work gets done before the timer on my phone sings out. The pile of weeds I’ve thrown over the fence will be tossed into the bin after breakfast and I’m pleased with the progress of the yard… it’s further than I got last week when I really didn’t feel as though I could leave the house.

Yes, my dragon had returned. It always feels as though the end of world is happening when he’s around. When the anxieties arrive, so does depression – which is just as bad – and both of these things work hand in hand, making me feel like crap.

Usually, when I know he’s about to show himself, I don’t want to get out of bed. It could be hottest morning and I still try to make excuses to stay in bed and pull the covers over myself – no matter how well I slept the night before. And if that’s not a clue, my eating habits plummet.  It eat all the crap in the world, from salty chips to all the chocolate in the fridge. And really, I just skip meals everywhere and just drink coffee all day… yeah, not a great deal of taking care of myself.

And if it’s not my daily intake of food that takes a hit, it’s my housework. I just stop doing it. I don’t vacuum, the bathroom stops getting done and – even though I’ll do my laundry – it’ll just sit in the corner for weeks on end before I actually get in and put it away.

But another bout of my dragon – who is always with me in the tiniest way – is due for a huge visit soon. I can tell. He’s just been hanging around lately, keeping me awake at night, making me eat junk food and recently, I’ve had so many little things go wrong that I’m sure I’m going to crack again… and it’ll be off to the shrink again to settle down my dragon.

I’m not sure we’ll be able to this time.

You see, we all have dragons in our lives (and I don’t mean the Mother In Law), each of us have them… our own anxieties and depressions. My dragon looks a little like JRR Tolkien’s Smaug – but he’s covered in Emeralds and golden gems down his chest. Yes, he’s a brilliantly covered dragon and hard to miss. He made his presence known quite quickly in my life almost twenty years ago when I was in an abusive relationship and it took a long time for me to control him. He’s never left me – he’s not supposed to. I’m his handler, and if I let him get the better of me, well, I’m screwed.

We all have our own image of our dragons and usually it’s the first image you see when you’re asked to ‘imagine a dragon’… your imaginary dragon is your stress dragon (didn’t know that did ya?). Mine’s always looked the way I’ve imagined him from way back when I was little, I just didn’t tell anyone, not until I was asked by my shrink. He thought my dragon was really pretty – yeah, sure, really pretty until the damned thing is standing over you in the middle of the night and you’re freaking out because every single noise you hear is something out to get you.

Before you say that Dragons don’t exist, well, how do we know what they look like? It’s kind of like Unicorns, Pegasus’ and Centaurs, how do we know what they looked like if they never existed at some point in time? Right, now you get it. We know what they look like because at some point in time, they were actually around. I don’t know what happened to them, how they disappeared or why – some of it of legend, some of the stories have been handed down through centuries of bad story-telling and changed to suit the generations – but either way, those creatures aren’t around for a reason. However, Dragons have been used to show imagery and danger. Wales still has one on its national flag (either that or it’s a Fire Drake – a cousin of the Dragon).  

Anyway, I digress.

Like I said, my stresses have been getting to me lately. I haven’t been as happy or good to myself as I normally am. I thought taking a year off from the weekend boutique markets was a good idea, but it wasn’t. It’s made my depression worse and my Dragon more of a presence in my life.

He’s physically damaging me now.

I woke up the other morning with a burn mark on my arm; as though I had been defending myself against something in my sleep. The strange thing is that I don’t remember burning myself on anything around the house and it hurt like hell. So, I had to go to the doctors and get it looked at. Just before I left to go to the hospital, I stopped myself: if I told them a dragon did this, I’d be in the psych ward in two seconds flat! I turned, unlocked the door to my house and treated the wound myself.

Then it happened: I was woken in the middle of the night by him. It was a nudge really and when I opened my eyes, I found him standing over me, his hot air exhaling from his huge nostrils.

“You’re not real, you’re not real…” I started to mumble.

“I’m very real, and you’ve been a bad handler.” His voice shook the room as his ruby eyes blinked slowly, “Amber, you haven’t looked after your anxiety as you have promised me you would.”

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“Shut up!” he swung around, his massive tail taking out my wardrobe, the outside wall and half the palm outside, “I have stayed quiet and been a good little dragon just for you. But you’ve begun to not look after yourself. You didn’t go to the doctors when I hurt you the other night – which was the right thing to do.”

“I didn’t want them to think I was… I’m talking to a dragon!” I begin to cry in the dark as I watch part of the tiles from the roof crumble to the ground below. It’s then my focus looks out beyond that and I notice that the rest of my suburb has been decimated, “What did you do?”

“Just what you expected me to do when I’ve gone unchecked, Amber.” He laughed, “And this is just the beginning!”

“We haven’t seen her leave her house in two weeks, Constable.” Amber’s neighbour said, “This is why we called you.”

He turned to the caretaker, “And exactly why don’t you have a house key?”

The obese man rubbed the back of his neck, “Aaww, well, it’s nothin’ to do with me.”

The policeman turned to the locksmith, “Get it open.”

The door popped open and the police walked in, up the stairs, followed by the ambulance officers where they found Amber in her bed, staring at the ceiling, muttering: “Armageddon. It’s Armageddon… he’s back again!”

The policeman looked to the ambulance guys, “Is she religious?”

One of them looked over at him, “No. Armageddon is a name. She suffers from anxiety and depression; and her shrink got her to name her dragon – or creature – that haunts her. Her creature is a massive, jeweled-covered dragon called Armageddon. I’m afraid, Amber’s had a meltdown. Her world has come to an end because Armageddon had come.” 

Septem Peccatis Mortiferis

Chuck put up a choice of the Seven Deadly Sins for us to choose from. I couldn't pick - so I used them all; but mainly Pride. 

Enjoy!

University is fun!

I’ve loved this place since the very first one opened oh, so many centuries ago and I started bouncing around its walls just to tempt people into doing things they really wanted to do…

Some of them loved it, some of them hated it… most of all I had my fun and went on my merry way.

But then, once I did destroy one or two generations of one university, I’d move onto the next academy. Sometimes, they’d be soldiers in Greece – and were they fun! At Sparta, I had them nearly ripping each other apart! Wooo! What a thrill! The instructors never knew what got into those kids!

I was on my own for a long, long time… a long time! I didn’t mind it. But then, my fellow brothers and sisters showed up at another university or two in Londinium, when it was only a tiny little village on the shores of The Thames and it was beginning to grow into something major.

It was good.

It was fun.

It was deliciously brilliant to have my family together with me. But I couldn’t tell them that… after all, I have my Pride.

But watching them work their best whiles on the Humans is always the best thing. And it’s always the same: you Humans are weak in the same ways as you were in the beginning of time.

No wonder we exist. 

No wonder we’ll never go away.

Now, we are in the present day of computers, of the internet, of mobile phones, of motor cars (and what brilliantly wonderful things they are!). And I can say that you Humans are as gullible as ever! I don’t have to work on you as hard as I did when I started out in this gig way back when there wasn’t electricity and a computer screen to distract you.

I’ve set up a great party at my old House on one of the very first campus’ I frequented, back in the day! Oh, joy! The strange thing is that nobody knows what the symbol on the building means – nobody but us Deadly Sins… and we called the House Septem Peccatis Mortiferis. Everyone thinks it’s a joke, but when you create a House on a campus right at the beginning of time, you can initiate it with all kinds of symbols and things that lose all meaning to the people now.

It’s been over 6,000 years since we have been back. And we’re welcomed back with open arms; as new students to the Alma Mater, something that I’m not surprised at as we look into the den and find that a reproduction of the portrait of me is still over the fireplace. The old one must have been destroyed.

“Hey, Alex, dude, you look like that guy in the painting.” One of the seniors points out almost immediately.

“Yeah. I do.” A grin grows on my face. I slip my arm around his shoulders, as though we’ve known each other our whole lives, “How about we have a party tonight?”

Rich looks at me, beer in hand, not knowing how to react. He’s normally the one organises these things. He smiles, “Sure! It’s the start of the year, let’s find out who the hotties are on this campus.”

The place is pumping soon after sunset with beer flowing easily. People are everywhere in the house and my brothers and sisters arrive right on time – two hours into the party – and the whole atmosphere changes almost immediately.

Lust grabs herself somebody’s boyfriend and starts taking his clothes off in front of everyone – much to the disgust of the girlfriend, but she doesn’t do anything for a minute due to shock.

Gluttony starts eating everything in sight – and not just the food. Anyone who gets in the way loses a finger… a hand… oh, oops, one guy’s neck just got in the way of Gluttony. Blood everywhere! People have begun to panic; which spreads like a brushfire. Nobody has to see what’s happening, strangely enough, you Humans can just sense it. That’s what I love about you.

Wrath swoops in on that girlfriend whose boyfriend is now humping Lust. Just as she gets her fill and dumps his dead lifeless body to the floor, pulling his life force from him through her touch (no not his dick you sorry, disgusting perve!), the girlfriend jumps on Lust with Wrath by her side. Wrath and Lust are a tag team (little to anyone’s knowledge but mine) and work well together.

Sloth? Well, he just walked in, sat down and enjoyed the floor show. His body odour was here before him and nobody wanted to be around him; not even me. So, I moved into the next room where most of the population of the party were trying to get out of the kitchen door all at once – and failing. It was funny in a way, sad in another.

Greed and Envy swaggered through the door and looked around. They didn’t do much as they watched Wrath and Lust suck the rest of the life force from the poor chick who was hoping to get her own back for the death of her boyfriend… and failed.

I came back into the room with a bowl in my hand to collect the blood from the two bodies by the door, “Okay, people, we have to do this right. Make sure all the symbols are doused in the blood of two Humans who were in love and recently killed.” Once all seven symbols had been anointed with the blood, the house began to shake as though an earthquake was approaching.

Things fell off the walls

Remaining people evacuated from the house, running, screaming!

The symbols began to glow a brilliant white.

There was a massive flash and a clap of thunder and the house Septem Peccatis Mortiferis’ shook harder! I could see it was going to collapse, dropped the bowl and ran outside to join the other people standing out in the darkness of the night.

The police and Fire Marshal came back from the rubble of the house, declaring that there were no other bodies, except for the two dead people just inside the door.

“You were very lucky to get out just before it collapsed, Alex.” The Dean of the University said.

“Yeah, I was.” I nodded.

“Do you need anywhere to stay tonight?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” I turned and walked away smiling. I had anointed all the symbols in that house for the others to go home… all but mine.

After all, I have my Pride. 

The Ring

The Emerald ring was pretty enough, but the man offering it wasn’t.  In the glare of the market place, it didn’t matter how attractive the person was who was selling the item, it mattered if you liked the item itself.

And Sharon loved that ring.

“A pretty ring for a pretty lady.” His cracked voice matched his time-withered face as he offered it out to her in the little black box, “Only a few dollars. T’was a family heirloom and I’m selling it now to make ends meets.”

She looked at him – into his eyes – and realised that he wasn’t all that old really. This man was really young, his body was working against him and he appeared old, “Yes, I’ll look at it.” She smiled taking the box.

“I’ll sell it to you for $60.” His smile ripped up half his face while the other half remained expressionless – blank – with a milky, white eye she knew he couldn’t see out of.

“Honey, what did you find?” Brent’s arm moved around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder, “Hey, that’s nice, how much?” looked up at the old man, his eyes not resting on him for long as they quickly returned to the ring. She knew the retailer made her boyfriend uncomfortable.

“He asked $60…”

“I’ll give you $50.” He dug out his wallet.

“Sold!” the man limped around and grabbed a crisp, new bag from the table behind him and opened it for her to pop the ring into as Brent handed over the money.

Three days passed before she opened the box. Sharon was going out to dinner with Brent and his parents and she couldn’t find the ring anywhere. She was sure she had put it on the dresser, but it wasn’t there.

“Honey.”

She turned and found Brent with it, “Oh there it is.”

“What would you say if I wanted you to wear this as an engagement ring?” he smiled.

“A what?” Sharon couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

He took her hand and sat her on her Grandmother’s Glory Box she had refurbished, “I got this evaluated and the jeweler told me that it was worth a lot of money. So, instead of buying you the ring I was saving for, let’s put that money towards a house and…” he grinned, “Will you marry me?”

The first thing we did was get her folks to the dinner as well as his folks. It was going to be a great night!

Sharon found she wore this ring everywhere and loved it. It didn’t catch on her clothes and everyone she came across complimented her on it. Then, she noticed a few things about herself the longer she wore the ring: she was looking better.

Now, Sharon’s not a vain person, she looked great in anything. But she looked in the mirror one day and found her hair, which was normally frizzy curls, was shiny and had its own beautiful look to it. She wondered if it was the ring or if she done something different in her diet. But no, she was eating and living the same way she did a month ago – when Brent gave her the ring. She shrugged and didn’t worry too much about it… just that it was about time that her hair finally looked this good!

Then, her clothes started to fit her better! Woohoo! She’d lost the weight she’d been aiming for! Party time! She pulled on the blue jeans she had tucked away in the back of the wardrobe, did them up without sucking in her stomach and admired that cute butt of hers in the mirror!

“Girl! You got it goin’ on!” she shook her butt at her reflection as Brent walked in on her, “I fit into my smaller jeans.”

“Yeah, you do.” He smiled walking up to her, “You’re looking great.” He held her close and kissed he neck, “You’re beautiful.”

“Aaaw, you’re just saying that.” She grinned.

“No… I mean it.” He took her hands and looked down at them where he could see liver spots all over them. Running his thumbs over the backs of them, he looked at her face, “You look tired.”

“I am… I’ve had a busy day.”

“How about I cook tonight?”

One Saturday night, Brent was out with his mates at the local pub when one of them noticed he wasn’t acting himself. He sat staring at his half-drunk beer, looking like he was thinking too much.

“Hey, mate… you okay? You look like you have the world on your mind.” He slurred crunching up against him, giggling at himself as he sloshed a little of his brew on his pants, “Oops, I’m drunk.”

Brent smiled a little, but it didn’t stay, “I’m sorry, Terry, I’m not much company. I’m worried about Sharon.”

“Is Shazza okay?” he asked.

“No.”

“Tell me about it. I’m your mate.”

“I bought her ring at the markets from a really old dude, but he wasn’t old… he looked old, but when you looked into his eyes…”

Terry pointed at him, “He was young inside.”

“Yes. And the ring was an emerald; an expensive piece of rock. So, I gave it to Sharon as an engagement ring and since she’s been wearing it, she’s been aging like you wouldn’t believe.” He pulled out his phone, “Look at this.” He showed Terry a photo of Sharon the night he gave her the ring, “That was a month ago.” He flipped through a few photos and showed him a photo from that night, “This is Sharon tonight.”

“Oh my god!” Terry’s eyes widened, “Fuck man, what happened to her?”

“Terry, Sharon’s only twenty-five… she’s turned into a fifty-year-old almost overnight.” He shook his head, “I don’t want to… you know… make love to her … in case I hurt her or break a bone in her.” He sighed, “I don’t know what to do.”

His mate gave back his phone, “Does she notice this?”

Brent put it on the table, “That’s the thing: she thinks she’s getting younger and looking hotter… and she’s not.” He shook his head again, “Terry, I found her trying on jeans and she looked like a skeleton… she thought they looked great.”

His mate pushed his and Brent’s beers away and leaned forward. He was suddenly serious, “Okay, this is what you have to do: get her to a doctor.”

“I have tried… she won’t go. And I’ve brought a doctor to us, but she refuses their help.” He said.

“You need to get that ring off her… you need to destroy it.” He said, “I have a Pagan friend who could tell you what the ring is if you have photo of it.”

“Sure I do.” He picked up his phone and searched the photos, found it and showed him, “I’ll send it to you.”

Another week passed by and Brent started staying at work longer.

He couldn’t stand being in the same house with Sharon.  

She wondered if he was having an affair.

Then, while he was at work, a man approached him he’d never seen before, “Hi. Terry told me about a ring you found.”

“Yeah… come into my office. We’ll have more privacy.” He walked the tall man into his office and closed the door, “Did he send you the photo?”

“Yes. And that ring is dangerous. We must get it off your girlfriend’s hand; and soon, before it claims her life.”

“Look, I’ve bought another which looks just like it… except it has diamonds around it. So we can tell the difference.” He pulled the new ring from his pocket, “So if you’d like to do this now, that’d be great.” Brent started packing his briefcase as he pocketed the ring again.

“The sooner the better, but we must put that ring in a lead-lined box.” He said, “We have to put it inside a curse box; which I have with me.”

He turned, ready to leave, “A curse box, what is that?”

The man sighed, “It’s a protective box which keeps cursed objects from doing what they are designed to do – that is to kill people. Whoever sold you that emerald ring at the market opened the original box.”

“Shit.”

“Honey, I’m home!” he led the man inside and through to the kitchen where Sharon was sitting with her mother, “Hey sweetie. I came home early today; after last night, I was told to come home and be with you by the boss.”

“Oh, honey, that’s great.” She looked up at him. He could barely distinguish the difference between her and her mother – except for the ring on her finger, “Would you like a cup of coffee? And who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Richard. He’s a friend of Terry’s.” he smiled, “Tea?”

“No thank you.” He took a seat at the table as Sharon’s mother stood quickly, looking grateful Brent was home and kind of uncomfortable around the new man here.

“I really must go, honey. Traffic is going to be a bitch soon. Take care of yourself.” Her mother kissed her cheek and smoothed out Sharon’s graying, thinning hair, glanced at Brent and walked toward the front door.

Brent followed her, whispering as they walked outside, “You do know it’s the ring doing that to her?”

She nodded barely holding in the tears, “Just get it off her!”

“That’s what Richard is here for. He knows what it is.” He said, “We can’t destroy it, but we can put it away.” He embraced his soon-to-be mother-in-law before he opened the car door for her, “Drive carefully.”

When he returned to the kitchen, he found Sharon glaring at Richard and the man standing across the room.

“What happened?”

“He wants my ring.” She blurted, “That stranger wants my ring!”

Brent slid into a seat next to her, “Honey, I have to tell you something. That ring isn’t what you think it is. It’s cursed; and it’s making you age terribly.”

“No. It’s making me feel good and look good.” She sniffed.

“I was afraid of this.” He stood, picking up his briefcase, “I borrowed a mirror from work, and another briefcase from my boss. It’s one of his metal briefcases.” He opened the briefcase, took out a shaving mirror he had been given by his boss for the night and sat by his wife, “Now, don’t touch it… if you do, the ring’s curse will pass onto the mirror. Look at yourself.”

Sharon rolled her eyes, “Oh come on, this is stupid.”

“Dammit! Look into the mirror!” he shouted.

She turned and looked, blinked and touched her own cheek, “Oh my god. I’m ugly.” She looked down at her hands and saw they were old. Her eyes traveled all over herself, “What happened? Tell me what happened? Brent what’s going on?” she reached out to the mirror, but he pulled it away, “Get this thing off me!”

Richard cleared his throat, “Only you can do that.”

She pulled at the ring and it came off easily, “Where do you want it?”

He opened the curse box, angling it toward her, “Throw it in here.” She did and as soon as he closed it, and locked it, her left hand started to revert back to being young slowly.

“How long will it take?” Sharon asked, “Before I’m back to my age again?”

“A few days? A week or so? I’m not sure.” Richard said, “I’ve never seen that ring in action before.”

Brent nodded as he walked the man outside, “Thank you so much for your help.”

He smiled, “You’re welcome.” He watched Brent go inside as a grin spread across his face, “You’re so welcome.” He walked along the street to where his gypsy wagon was parked, opened the box, slipped on one of the emerald rings inside it and little by little he aged to being the old man from the markets… blind in one eye, almost unable to walk… ready for the next marketplace in the next town.

Star's Hollow Cafe

Chuck has us using an X meets Y table this week.  I have pulled up 'Gilmore Girls' and 'Friends'... tried my best, but I'm tired and haven't had much sleep. I hope this turned out better than it looks and reads.

enjoy.

I don’t know if it’s the 4am starts that make my life worthwhile, or that I meet so many unusual and interesting people with so many different tastes in food, or that there’s always the same groups of people who sit at the same tables week in, week out to catch up with each other’s lives – as though they’re family – really they’re friends.

But I love working here.

However, this time of the day is my quiet time. I get to pull the chairs down, clean the tables, put out the menus and the salt’n’pepper on the tables and then I go outside and wash the windows twice a week. The floor is continuously getting washed, whether there’s customers around or not, and I put up a little sign showing a stick figure sliding around to show the floor is wet.

I often have to deal with our Mayor, who is also my next door neighbour and my tenant (I bought the whole block and now he’s constantly coming in to pass something by me and sucks up to me to get something done). Most times, I’ll pour him a coffee and tell him to write me a letter through his lawyer and I’ll get in and look at it. He snorts, rolls his eyes and walks out the door with his toupee just staying on his head.

Then, there’s one guy who comes in looking like he’s drunk all the coffee in the state and he asks me for a coffee. I reluctantly pour him one, and he takes three mouthfuls as he chats to me – at me – about his day ahead. He’s sweet really, a lovely man, but can’t get his life together in any way. Luke just seems to have the worst luck with women, but it’s because he’s constantly trying to please his parents (they’re rich) by making it alone without their money. He normally asks for a Danish and so while he’s talking, I grab one for him pack it up and hand it over without him saying anything.

He gives me the most adorable look, “Hey, thanks, Lulu, how did you know?”

“You always get a Danish with your coffee, Luke. And on weekends, when you bring Jess in, you guys stuff yourselves full of pancakes, bacon, eggs and other greasy crap – as well as coffee.” I smile.

“You’re wonderful, have I ever told you that?” he takes another sip from the large mug of coffee and drops a five-a on the counter before rushing out the door with the bagged Danish in his hand.

After Luke takes off in his pick-up to go to work, there’s the usual breakfast crowd which takes over the café. I’m flat out for about four hours serving up food, coffee, tea and fruit juice between 6am until around 10am when the crowd thins out and people come in dribs and drabs.

The sun shines through the front window and makes the place look so nice. I don’t notice it until it’s empty, until people have finished their breakfast and I’m walking around picking up after them. This little town is really pretty – but it’s not the place to be a strange person, or a person to do something out of character. Fortunately, I rarely do that. This might make me out to be boring, but really, I just want to make a living through this café and that’s it… oh, here comes my early lunchtime group: six people who have known each other for their entire lives. You’d think they would be boring, they’d know too much about each other, but really, they know each other so well, they are constantly finding out more and more about their own lives and each other’s lives as they get older.

They’ve been coming here for almost five years now, and through that time, two have become engaged to each other, one of them got married to some crazy woman on the other side of the country (when he was in love with his childhood sweetheart in the group) and there’s one who has the douchie pick-up line of ‘How ya doin’?’

He never seems to get any girls, but they think he’s good looking until he opens his mouth.

I take their orders (which have been the same things for the last five years) and call them through to Kirk in the kitchen. We’re both thankful that this lot come early, as they eat so much food and go through so much coffee it’s unbelievable.

But they talk about everything for that week – which is wedding arrangements for the engaged two. The husband-to-be tries to take part, only to be told what to do by his fiancé and he ends up just sitting back, smiling and saying, ‘Whatever you want, honey, after all it’s your day.’ And the good thing about this group is that while they’re here, only two other customers come in for coffee and some Danishes and that’s it; then the lunch rush starts just after their meals have been served up.

My day doesn’t end at sunset. I have people coming in for coffee after movies in the bookstore across the square. They’re all rugged up (as it’s starting to get cold at night now) and it’s good to have them come in and settle in for some hot chocolate and something sweet to eat after going there. Babette doesn’t like anyone bringing anything more than popcorn into the store as it attracts mice and they’d eat all the books. Anyway, if they come here, I make more money off them for two hours or so if I stay open until 9pm.

Star’s Hollow is nice at night. The square has fairy lights which switch on just as the sun is setting and – if it’s been snowing – the whole place seems to glow.  I’m kinda glad I lived here when I was a kid, then moved away to go to school and came back. It made me appreciate what I had… what I missed when I was in another town with my folks; who missed this place so badly they stayed in New York for the time it took me to finish high school; then brought me back here. Dad opened his hardware store and within a couple of decades, he passed away. My Mum had no interest in running the hardware store, so I turned it into a diner and I’ve been working here for the past decade. Everyone knows my place, and yet they still see parts of my Dad’s hardware store around the diner as a reminder of how it used to be.

However it hasn’t been long since Mum died and this town and the diner has become my world. I don’t make friends that easily and Kirk is the only person I’ve let near – not even he knows how much I grieve over my parents as he’s just a friend; besides he’s married.

This little town is – and will always be – my home and Kirk knows I’d never leave it, so his job here as kitchen hand is secure.

The last customer left an hour ago. I have washed the floors, put the chairs back up on the tables, cleared the register and made sure the grill was turned off. The shutters are pulled down, door is deadlocked and the sign turned from ‘OPEN’ to ‘CLOSED’.

Kirk went home at 9:30pm after he cleaned the kitchen and organised the menu for tomorrow.

I went up the stairs around the back, along the landing and unlocked the door (which still has ‘Dean’s Hardware’ Main Office’ and below it PRIVATE. I’ve refused to change that in memory of my Dad) and walked into my flat where I’ve renovated it to fit with my life. It’s an old place, but I’ve made it look better – a little. It still looks a lot like my folks live here, but they’ve just left it the way it was and I’m house sitting.

I open the window and let the chill of the night air in, lean on the sill and watch the quiet stillness of Star’s Hollow for a few moments. This is my time to slow down after a full day of being on my feet.

I love this town.

I love this café.

I don’t think I want anything to change… ever.

But Kirk… he’d be the one I’d allow into my life if I really needed somebody, as he knows me the best. Or Luke… but he’s really manic and has a spark about him. He’s always on the go and I love the way he just talks to me (at me) and I always seem to know exactly what he’s thinking, what he wants and he knows I always have time for him.

But does he know I like him too?

Guess I’ll never know; as he keeps that part of his life a secret.

It’s 4am and I’m pulling down the chairs. The chill in the air is colder than it was last night. A tapping at the door makes me turn and I find Luke standing there shifting his weight from one foot to the next, trying to stay warm.

I open the door quickly letting him in, “What are you doing out at this time of the day? I’m not open yet.”

He nods, “Yep, uh-huh… I know. But…” he can’t eye contact with me and he’s still moving from side to side, “I um… I need to tell you something.”

“I’ll pour you some coffee…” but as I turned, I remember I hadn’t done that yet, “I have some upstairs.”

“You live here?” he looks up at me.

“Yes. Come on.” I walk past him and up to my place; where he’s never been and pull down some mugs from the cupboard, pouring him some fresh coffee I made only half an hour before, “Here.”

He walks in, looking around, “Wow… you really do live here.”

“Sit… talk.” I sit across from him at the corner of the old Formica table and mis-matched chairs.

He sits and takes a big mouthful of coffee, “Mmmm, that’s good.”

“Thank you.”

“I was really all over the place yesterday.” He says, “And there was a reason for it.”

“Oh? I didn’t really notice. You’re normally a bit static and run a million miles an hour – like you’ve drunk all the coffee in town before coming here.” I giggled.

His eyes stare at me, “What? Really? Oh… I wanted to tell you something, Lulu but didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if you and Kirk were an item – I mean by the way he stares at you and acts around you, you’d think you two were an item.”

“Kirk’s married.” I said, “He just does his job really well and he’s protective of me because I’m on my own.”

“Oh… good.” He smiles and seems at ease, “This makes what I’m going to say to you a lot easier.” He takes another sip of coffee, as though it gives him Dutch Courage, and looks at me, “I find it hard to talk to people and since you’ve been in town…”

“I’ve been here for over a decade.”

“Yeah… since you’ve been here, we’ve been great friends. I can tell you everything – anything.” He pauses, “I wanted to know how you felt about… um… jeez this is hard.” He gets up and starts pacing from my bedroom to the living room, “I want to tell you how much you mean to me and how much I think about you and how much you’re on my mind when the end of the day comes, but I can’t seem to get the damned words out.”

I get up and stop him, taking his hand in mid-stride, “You just did.”

He smiles, “Yeah… I did.” Leaning down, he pulls me close and kisses me gently. 

The Mark

Chuck has given us Sub-Genre Tango... that is: 20 gengres and we pick two to mix together. I picked out Parallel Universe and either Magical Realism or Body Horror (to me tattooing is painful... and changes things about the body). I'm not sure which one the second I've chosen is, but the story just flowed today. 

enjoy! 

I arrived at school on Monday, and the place seemed half-empty. I wondered why, went to class and found that our teacher hadn’t shown up for work – so the Principal took the roll call for home room.

That wasn’t all.

Our Science teacher subbed most of our classes. Mr. Berville was great. He knew the work well, but stumbled on Theatre and read from the class notes most of the time.

He seemed scared about something – unsettled – and we all noticed it, even though he tried to hide it.

At lunch-time, the cafeteria was almost empty. Most of the food wasn’t eaten; and I don’t mean at the counter. We all got our food, went and sat down then realised exactly who was missing from our group of friends – and from the school. Missy wasn’t here, neither was Anthony, Frederick or Ben. All three of them went to church on a regular basis. I did the only thing I could think of and stood on the table and looked around to see exactly who was missing: the Christian group who normally sat in the corner, the Mormons, the kids who were picked on for being Geeks (and now we know weren’t) were all missing. They made up about a third of the population of those who ate lunch here all the time.

The sports kids were gone – they always prayed to God for a win before games (whodathunkit that would work?). Some of the teachers who would normally tell me off for standing on the table, and some of the kitchen staff weren’t here either.

I got off the table and sat in my chair, “This isn’t looking good.” I looked at the remaining two people in my group: Chris and Lydia.

Chris looked around, “No… something’s up and I’m not getting a good feeling about it, either.” He looked at his tray filled with food and pushed it away, “I’m so stressed out and I’m not hungry.”

Lydia glanced around, “Nobody is… we all know something is going on, but we’re not sure what.”

“All the religious freaks aren’t here.” He said.

Leaning forwards, I lowered my voice, “Right now, saying that isn’t a good thing.”

He nodded, “I’m sorry. Just freaked right out.”

“Join the club.” I sighed.

By Wednesday, half my neighbourhood was empty. Mum and Dad didn’t want me going to school. Let’s face it, I didn’t want to go either. So, we decided to leave town and packed what we could live with into the RV that day and planned to leave that night.

At 2am, I was woken by Dad in the dark. His hand was over my mouth as I heard a noise outside my door. He had carried me to my wardrobe and closed the door fully.

“Brie, ya Mum’s been killed by them.” His whispered news rendered me silent in more ways than one. I didn’t want to believe him… but I had to. I also had to stay silent to live. Moving in closer into the flannel of his pajamas, we heard them kick in my bedroom door and ransack my room; only to find nothing and leave. I hadn’t realised it until Dad turned on a flashlight, but I had been crying.

The dawn’s light showed us how much the world had changed within four days. The place we called home since I was four years old had been destroyed by what was known as The Mark. This was a group of people who went out looking for people like us – people left behind – to join them. We learned this as we had breakfast with a neighbour up around the corner who had also saved most of his family; like Dad did. But we had to get out of this town.

That didn’t work.

We left town and found that this population problem had crossed state lines. So, we started to pull over on the side of the interstate and decided to have a chat with him about what to do.

Dad looked at me before he got out of the RV, “I have a feeling he’s not being truthful to us about something – he’s holding something back.”

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked.

“When I get out, you keep the engine running with your foot on the pedal.” He said, “If…” Dad took my hands as tears filled his eyes, “Brie, if he shoots me, you get your butt out of here. You have a full tank of fuel, and I have put an extra tank in the back. There’s your Aunt Clara’s place we talked about going to a few years ago.”

I looked up, “I’ll go there.”

“Don’t stop for anyone!”  he closed the door and I moved over into his seat, shifted it so I could reach the pedals and kept the engine running.

Mr. Bridges – the neighbour – stepped out of his RV started talking to Dad, pulled a gun and shot him! Before Dad hit the ground, I had the RV out on to the highway again.

As Dad told me, I didn’t stop for anyone. Not one hitch-hiker, nobody who looked like a cop. I shoved through road blocks with people shooting at the RV and I made it up into the mountains of Colorado to my Aunt Clara’s place.

She was so reclusive that people had to press a buzzer at the gates of her property to get in. I did that and her voice came over the intercom: “Get the fuck away from my property, you ass-fuckin’-wipe!”

“Aunt Clara, it’s me, Brie… please, let me in.” I started to cry as I hadn’t talked to anyone in eight hours and there were no radio stations anymore.

“Oh my dear sweet child.”

She came running out of the house to the gate and pulled it opened let me through with the RV, then closed it immediately, locking it up again before she rushed up to the driver’s side door and waiting for me to get out.

I climbed down and we embraced crying, “They’re all dead… Mum and Dad… it’s been horrible.”

“I know.” She said, “I have been talking to people over the two-way and Ham radio. It’s not looking good out there.” She looked the RV over and noticed some holes in the size of bullets in the side a smashed window, “You drove through a few road blocks and around some crazy people, I see.”

“I ran over them. They had guns.” Fresh tears filled my eyes, “I’m so tired.”

“Come on.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulders, “You need three things: a shower, something to eat and a good sleep; in that order.”

We were going well for a while, Aunt Clara and me. They didn’t find us for a while. We unpacked the RV and hid it around the back of her property (and I didn’t know she owned so much land until now) to let it rot in a large barn she had at the back of the place.  

One night we were enjoying the lovely Summer sunset when a person showed at the gate, begging to be let in. We refused them entry, and they pulled out a gun, shot the intercom and the padlocks on the gate and all the electronic controls that held that gate in place, and the damned thing rolled open. We pulled the shutters down on the inside, of the house, turned off the power and gas and grabbed our bags.

Yes, we were hoping to go on a hiking trip the next day. But having the packs ready was just something we had done that afternoon.  We grabbed them and headed out the back, only to be pushed back inside by two men with guns.

“Dammit.” Aunt Clara muttered.

“You two were difficult to find.” The man said as he laid his weapon on the kitchen table, “Now, why were you hiding?”

“We want to be left alone.” I said.

“No such thing.” He snapped at me, “And you ran over my son, little girl, so you’re evil to the marrow.”

“Evil? Your men were trying to kill her?” My Aunt took a step towards the man, but I touched her arm and she turned, “What Brie? You’re going to let them treat us like shit in my own house?”

I sighed, “I’m done running. We’re trapped, have been for a long time. I just want to know why they were after us.”

“You have to get the mark put onto you.” He looked beyond my shoulder and a man pulled out a metal briefcase, placed it on the table, opened it and found it had the trappings of a tattoo artist’s kit.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Aunt Clara asked.

“Don’t know you?” The man laughed, “There’s been an Apocalypse. God took the people he loved back home and left Lucifer’s Army here on Earth to kill each other… if you don’t carry the mark, we kill you.”

The tattoo artist looked from Aunt Clara to me, “Or we recruit you.” He pulled on a set of black gloves after setting up his gear and taking a seat, “And after seeing how you handled that RV, young lady, we want you on our team… you old lady, you’ve been out of our reach for so long, you’re valuable too. Her family is dead, she needs somebody in her corner.” He took my hand with a pen in his hand, “Sit down, so I can get this right.”  

“Do I have a choice?”

He looked up from my hand, “No.”