The Colony

Halloween is here - next week actually - and Chuck has asked us to write a cool little flash fiction about a disease!  Okay... no probs, I guess I can have fun with this one - just like the last one! 

Enjoy!

I had no idea who the guy was at the party.  Actually I don’t think he was invited, but he was walking around there in a hospital gown shaking everyone’s hand – anyone’s hand – who arrived at the door.  He greeted them as though he knew every single one of us his whole life.

Everyone gave him strange looks, thin smiles and wondered who the hell he was before walking off into the crowd looking for friends, a drink and something to eat. 

The music pounded.

The night went on.

My party was the best Halloween Costume Party on the block.  And the police didn’t even show up because it was over before midnight… as stipulated on the invites.

I didn’t even see that weird guy leave; so didn’t get a chance to ask who he was.  But I did ask my friends and none of them knew him either.

But it was only a week later, when I was listening to my most recent purchased audio-book that the tips of my fingers started to look like they were blistering.  Frowning, I picked the skin off thinking it was just the change in season; that my body was shedding like it normally does.

But it didn’t stop at just my fingertips.

My nails started to flake.

I went to the doctor with cotton gloves on – terrified of touching anyone or letting anyone see my hands – and he even put on gloves to look at them.

“Jessie, I don’t know what to tell you.” He said, “Where have you been lately?”

“I held a really cool Halloween Party last week, but since then, I’ve done my normal stuff.”

“Like?”

“Well… I’ve been to work, gone shopping, minded my neighbour’s kids, helped the old lady next door with her gardening… and you know I do volunteer work at the soup kitchen.” I smiled, “I’ve pulled out of that since I’ve developed this.”

“Good, I want you to see a dermatologist.” He pulled out his referral pad and began scribbling on it, “He’s a good one.”

“Okay.” I nodded thinking how much money it was going to cost me to have these peelings looked at.

He smiled, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, he bulk bills.”

A few days passed and I noticed there were a few little things going wrong…

…like I lost the fingernails on my little fingers.

I don’t remember where I lost them, I looked at my hands one afternoon, and they were just… gone!

I was horrified and felt very naked without those cute little nails… but I still made my appointment with the dermatologist.

But on the morning of the appointment, I looked in the mirror and found skin was flaking at my hairline!

I cancelled the appointment and called an ambulance.

The people in the vans and hazmat suits were really off-putting, but I guess they had to dress that way.  I didn’t want to touch them, and they told me not to do or say anything as they escorted me from my home, strung tape all around the doors and windows and posted guards around my property.

Then, they asked me how long ago I noticed my skin blistering.

I told them.

They wrote it down.

They asked me how many people I’d been in contact with.  When I told them I had been in public for over a week and a half they stopped writing…

“What do you mean you’ve been in public?”

“Well, it’s itchy and kinda burns a bit… and my skin won’t stop flaking.” I said.

“Miss, we have to take you to the colony where the last one escaped.”

“Escaped?” I asked, “He didn’t happen to get out around Halloween did he?”

“Yes, why?” the man asked.

“He attended my party.”

“How many people were at your party?” he asked.

“Over thirty people.” I replied, “And he shook hands with every single one of us.  So, what do I have?”

He groaned, “You have the same thing he died from.  He gave you Leprosy.”

Dear Participant

Thank you for taking part in this experiment for the search of the human soul; and for selling it free of charge to us.  For years you have been giving yourself away without even knowing it by sitting in front of your computer screen, staring at your phone and anything with a touch-sensitive screen – it’s our way of making sure you’re ours completely.

And you see, the internet itself has been a trap from the moment you connected it up to your home through your phone line. 

We

Know

Everything

About

You…

Facebook has been the perfect attraction for everyone online – even the people who say they don’t have an account have clicked on a photo from this application and we have been able to track them anywhere on this little blue marble where you all live.

Yes… the human soul is worth so much, and yet you all love to sell it, hock it and just give it away for the simplest of things.  Why, I heard some people want to sell theirs for sex with some bitch they know nothing about…

But really, we’re here about you.

Yes, you, as you sit in your chair with your coffee by your side… the mobile nearby…

…you’ve just rubbed the back of your neck, turned around.

You’ll never find me…

Yes… look out the window into the darkness of the night… I’m not out there either.

Aah, yes… your eyes wander to the humming tower by your side… I’ve been watching your every move, as you mindlessly tap away on plastic keys, click that mound of plastic you call a mouse (and it doesn’t look anything like it)… and

… you …

…sold…

…your soul…

Not to the devil… no… you sold your soul to the internet…

We're not exactly evil, but we have turned you all into soulless, droids who believe everything we tell you to.... right?

Thank you

ever so much for your 

soul...

American Beauty

I see her as she sits normally in the fourth row, dressed in her ‘Sunday Best’ with only a little bit of make-up on, her hair pulled off her face and her shoes polished.

The typical American Beauty to a lot of people – but I know her better – yes I do.  I’ve seen her out on the street selling herself, despite her next to godliness act she puts on here.

Being a person who works in this industry, you have to be careful what you say to whom around the place in case you’re accused of being a pervert; or something else.  However, I’m a very active person of the community and I try to keep the young kids off the streets by bringing them to the community centre down the road for something to eat and a place to sleep, so they don’t have to walk the streets or sell themselves.

But sometimes one or two of them go missing – only sometimes.  Never enough to make the papers or cause problems around the place… and when you think about it – who’s really going to miss some cracked-up dopehead?  Nobody.

So, when I have been told they’ve stopped showing up, I put up the notices and figure they might have found a place to live or gone home.  But you soon forget their face, and … well… yeah.

Other times, I’ve had the opportunity to make them go missing on purpose.  However, who is going to know, except you and me the lightpost, right?  After all, they make a great sacrifice to the Dark Lord in August, or on All Hallow’s Eve, or better still, around the May Day Celebrations… yes!  I love the animal sacrifices as much as the human ones. 

Most times these blood spells call for virgins, but do you have any idea how hard it is to find one of those in this day and age?  Yeah, it’s difficult to find one who isn’t under sixteen, and is female… after all most of them are all sluts once they get a boyfriend!  Yes, they act like whores, dressing as though they’re going to please their man – when really they’re all just children.

Children… wonderful children all walking through the door of the place I work as a volunteer at to pick off one by one each year.  Most of them are never found because I get to use every part of their precious temples – from the heart, liver, kidneys and the brain right through to all of their blood… and whatever’s left over?  Well, I feed through a grinder and make into slop for my pigs on the farm.  Yes, nothing goes to waste.

I have found possessing a human difficult though… especially seeing I’ve taken over the body of such a pillar of the community.  I don’t think he even knows I’m making him do everything he’s doing.  I know that sounds bad from my position.

What’s my Demon name?  Malinda… such a sweet, charming and lovely name, hey?  Yeah. It is.

But going to Hell will turn any human into what I am.

And I bet you’re wondering who I’ve taken over… sure you are. 

Well, do you remember that sweet little thing I told you about in the beginning?  You know the one who was dressed in her Sunday Best, but I knew what she got up to when she wasn’t confessing her sins in church and asking the good Lord above for forgiveness for walking the streets and selling herself?  Yeah her… well, she’s my next sacrifice.

Well, I should say, his next sacrifice.

This time, I’m going to let him get caught red-handed. 

Right in the middle of the ceremony, I’ll leave his body and watch from a distance of his reaction – it’ll be damned well priceless!

His name?  Oh, I didn’t tell you did I? 

Reverend Morgan.

Criminal Minds

Last week, we were asked to write a great sentence and post it on Chuck Wendig's site.  There were over 200 choices to pick from!  Very cool... so much choice!  I found one I loved:  'All I got for my 19th birthday was pregnant and a criminal record' by Russell Appelt.  And here's what I did with your sentence Russell. :D

“I love you, Celie.” Robert whispered softly in my ear, his strokes of his hands up and down my body made me shiver. It was the first time he had said the ‘L’ word to me; and I loved it that he had – finally. 

I linked my hands around his neck as he gently moved between my legs, kissed my neck, made me want him in me as much as he wanted me, “Yes.  Please.”

Moving back, he paused, staring into my eyes, smiling that wicked little grin he only saved for me and nobody else, and leaned down kissing me again.

I loved it that we had morning sex – Robert and me – because it was the way he saved that time for me; and me alone.  We enjoyed each other totally and never looked at the clock to see how long it took for us to have a good old romp in the hay… according to us, we were the only two in existence and the rest of the world vanished.  And most times, I’d be giddy all day just from that morning sex until he arrived home, where I’d nearly attack him when he walked through the door.

Our house mates thought it was sweet and lovely to start with, but it got old very quickly.  After all, when two people are getting it on in the next room and your sex life isn’t as great as theirs, you’re constantly wondering what the hell is wrong with you, right?  We didn’t mean to rub it into their faces, but really, we just loved each other completely.

One afternoon, Robert was late in arriving home.  He had texted me and explained he was asked to stay back to help with something at the office – he did work with managers, so I didn’t worry – and so I got in and watched a bit of television and did my own thing for the night; for once.  Turning in at around 10pm, I wondered where he was.  But I left the front light on for him.

The doorbell woke me the next morning at around 5am.  Pulling on my Summer brunch coat, I found some flip flops and shuffled out to the front door, unlocked it a little and pulled it open enough to talk through the chain.  It was police, as they showed their ID and I closed the door and took the chain off its catch.

“How can I help you?” I asked, “It’s kinda early to door-knocking for you guys, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is.  But there’s been a body found in your neighbourhood, miss.” One cop said.  He pulled out an evidence bag and showed me Robert’s office ID, “Do you know this man?”

My stomach dropped as I muttered, “Yes.”

“How do you know him?”

“He’s my boyfriend.” I whispered, then cleared my throat, “What happened to him?”

“We’re trying to figure that out.”

“Listen, I gotta get changed, do you mind waiting until I do, so I can come with you to identify him?”

The two nodded, and one walked inside, “Sure.”

I rushed into the bedroom, closed the door and looked for something to wear.  As I rummaged through the wash basket, I found a pair of jeans – which weren’t mine – clogged with blood.  I wondered what the hell happened?  Searching further, I found a matching blood-clogged t-shirt and sweater.  Exactly what happened last night?  I dropped them into the basket, closed the lid and put on clean clothes from the wardrobe.

At the station, they sat me down and asked me where I was, who I was, how I knew Robert and our living arrangements.  He also asked me if I knew about his wife.

“Wife?” I frowned, “Robert doesn’t have a wife.”

The cop placed on the table a wedding ring in an evidence bag.  I looked at it and found engraved on the inside of it: ‘Two souls intertwined forever’

“This was on his person, on his hand.” The cop said watching me carefully.  Somebody tapped at the mirror, and the cop glanced over, excused himself and left the room for a moment.  He returned before I knew it with two new evidence bags filled with the clothes I had found, “Why didn’t you tell us about these?”

“Because… I don’t know how they came to be in my house.” I said, “And if I said something, you would have arrested me under suspicion.”

“You’re right.” He nodded, “But they were in your house, and you live alone.”

“No, I don’t.” I shook my head, “We – I have house mates.”

He sat back, “You live in a two bedroom house and your name is the only one on the lease.  The real estate has never seen anyone else live there but you.” He rose, “Please wait here.” Leaving again, he closed and locked the door. 

I couldn’t move, as they had cuffed me to the table… yep, I was in the shit alright.

The door opened again.  My parents were standing there.  Mum started to cry and turned away muttering, “It always starts on this particular birthday… and I bet, oh god, I bet she’s pregnant too.” She couldn’t look at me as she walked out.

Dad walked in, “Celie, it’s your 19^th birthday today.”

“Why don’t I remember what I did last night?”

He moved to take my hands, but hesitated, “Because you’ve blocked it out.  You found out Robert lied to you about his marital status.” He paused, “Your house mates were the first signs of schizophrenia because you live alone, sweetheart, and you need help badly.”

“But I love Robert.”

“And your jealousy killed him.” He looked down, “This won’t be taken to court.”

“Why?”

“Because they found his wife in the second bedroom… he’s been looking for her for weeks.” He said.  As Dad looked to the table, the door opened and a doctor walked in with two orderlies, “Please let us help you.”

All I got for my 19^th birthday was pregnant and a criminal record.