Saturday, 24 February 2018

Into The Raw

Chuck has put up 10 titles, and asked us to pick one. Now, my folks are in the throws of selling their house, and I thought to jump into the one which jumped at me first. This one is a little naughty, but I thought it was fun!


“Are we allowed to take our belongings with us?” I looked around our living room and found I had that inane attachment to my furniture I had promised myself I would never get.
“Of course.” Edward smiled, “You’re going into another estate, not off the grid.”
“Right, right.” My husband nodded, grimly reading over the contract again, “But it’s just that it’s so different to how we live now.”
“In the middle of the city amongst the pollution, traffic noise and so very close to everyone around you?” he looked around as a police screamed down the street, “Oh yeah, who’d want to leave all this?” he fidgeted in his suit, “Look, you’ll have an acre of land to yourself, with a gorgeous house on it, and your things will come with you. It’s going to have electricity, hot and cold running water and all the mod-cons. The only thing you’ll be away from is the city.” He sat back in the seat, “You’ll be free to do as you please.”

Roger and I exchanged glances.

This was exactly the type of life we had been wanting for a long time.

We both worked from home; and we rarely went out anymore to buy food or socialise – or well, do anything.

Yes, computers and the internet was a huge thing in our lives.

Thanks to verbal commands, everything changed in modern homes. Our stoves turned on by themselves, there’s no light switches, our televisions will change channels when we ask them to and our house actually has a ‘Holiday Mode’ for the lights when we go on away for more than three days.

But, it’s getting to a point where Roger and I have lost our way.

I love him dearly, but really, when we enter the room at the same time, we just seem to look at each other in wonderment – as though we’ve never met before... and we’ve been married for over a decade.
Yes, we’ve lost touch with the small things about each other.
So, we have decided to move out into the new estate called ‘Raw’ and it’s exactly what it means – we go out into the raw elements of the country and start our lives again.

I work from home; and Roger does too.

We learn how to work a good-sized piece of land, and learn about animals.

And the best thing is that we learn about ourselves and each other – we learn about how and why we’re together; and if we want to be with each other for the next decade.

This means we sell up and move everything there.

On the day of the move, we arrived at the house before our furniture at daybreak and watched the sunrise together over the ridge. We were truly alone for the first few hours and totally enjoyed our time there looking around the place – and it was a huge place!
As the sun warmed the valley below, I spotted a car and two trucks snaking along the road towards our house: one was Edward’s car and the two trucks had our furniture in it. We had been told to pack our clothes and some of the things we just couldn’t live without into a U-Haul and arrive early – and we did.
Edward pulled into the driveway, followed by the two trucks, which pulled up and opened the backs. He got out of his car and smiled, “Sorry we’re late, but the drivers got lost.”
“Lost? You said to be here early.” Roger said.
“Oh yeah, I did.” He smiled, “Did you unpack your U-Haul?”
“Yeah... we did.” I nodded, “It’s ready for you to take back.”
Everything was unpacked and put into all the right rooms. Nothing was broken and we were left alone at our new house. It took about three weeks for us to put things where we wanted them, and settle in.

One morning, Roger stood at the wardrobe looking in at his clothes, holding onto his garden shirt, “There’s really nobody around.”
“What do you mean?” I turned to him.
“We have an acre of land at the top of a mountain ridge, and have this place to ourselves.” He hung up the shirt again, “Has it crossed your mind why it’s called Raw?”
“Not really. Just that we’re out in the middle of country in the raw countryside, and that’s the meaning of it.” I smiled, “I didn’t really read into it.”
“We can get around with nothing on if we wish.” He rushed from the bedroom and to the home office and dug out the contract, reading it, “Yeah, it says here: ‘... not only are you in the raw of the countryside, but you’re far enough away from everything to be your true self.’” He looked up at me, “It’s practically encouraging us to strip off.”
“It doesn’t mean we have to.” I turned back to our bedroom shaking my head, but I heard him put back the paperwork and head downstairs in his birthday suit, “My god, he’s nuts on toast.” Pulling open the wardrobe, I pulled out a nice dress and looked at my underwear. Ditching the underwear, I pulled on the dress and went downstairs to join my husband for breakfast.
“Aaw, come on.” He teased, “It’s fun.”
I smiled a little, “No. I’ve still got my dignity; but you can get around like a Neanderthal if you wish, just remember to shower at the end of the day.” He headed outside with his cup of coffee and sat down in a chair, where I went to join him, but found him standing at the back door, “Hey, you okay, Rog?”
He turned and looked at me, “I thought I could do this.”
“Stand out there in the buff?” I grinned, “Of course you can.”
Doubt crossed his face: “But what happens if our neighbours are closer than we think?”
I peered through the screen, “Well, we’ll never know until we go out there.”
“But you’re clothed!”

“Am I?” I opened the screen and walked outside where the breeze caught the skirt of my dress and blew it up reminiscent of ‘The Seven Year Itch’.

Monday, 19 February 2018

War and the World Gone to Pieces

Chuck asked us to write about a world without guns... this took me a little while to do because, well, it had me stumped! 


I had been searching high and low for a piece just like this – even though the news said all of our weaponry had been collected and destroyed.

And what a sweet piece it was!

I ran my hands over its contours – its beautiful shape and feel, and how it felt in my hands was perfect!

No, it was ... meant to be.

It was mine!

I looked up at the dealer, “How much for it?”
“Hey dude, there’s others on offer here, take your time.” He swept his hand over the table in front of him in the dim light of his basement, “I’m not gonna be here tomorrow.”
“Can I pick more than one?”
“If you have the dosh you can have as many pieces as you want.” He chuckled.
Holding the one I loved so much closer to me, I perused the make-shift table of others on offer. I didn’t want to let this one out of my sight, just in case it would vanish if I put it down, “Well, we haven’t discussed prices yet.”
“The nice piece you have in your hot little hands there, sonny-boy, is a neat round sum of $50. But there’s bigger ones which have multiple uses – unlike that one you have in your hands.” He turned and picked up a massive one which was leaning against the wall with a strap attached to it, “You have this whopper to take some bastard out with; and you can bet your bottom dollar nobody will be messing with you if you bring out this bad boy!”
I hesitated, “Well, I don’t want to be caught with something like that on me... not by the police or the government. I want to have something small enough to get away with; yet big enough to scare the shit out of the assholes out there.”
The dude shrugged, “Well, okay... the piece you have there is good for everyday use. But may I interest you in having something for around the house?”
“Okay... what have you got?”
He opened an old, wooden cigar box and showed me a pair of nicely-cared for pieces, “These are perfect for home protection... I haven’t had these very long and am prepared to sell them to you – with that one there – for $1000. This box comes with its own lock and ammo.”
I didn’t hesitate this time around. Pulling out my wallet, I took out one of the money clips I had there with my dosh in $1000 sections. The first one came out, I unclipped it and handed the money over as he handed to box over with a key which he slotted into the lock, turned it and the box unlocked. On top of the box he put gave me another two boxes of ammo and wished me a good day.
Before leaving, I slotted my single piece into my empty shoulder holster, where my service pistol used to be; and felt so much better about having it there. Then, I pocketed the ammo and locked the box up before slotting it into a large pocket inside my trench coat and closing the flap over.

I was now ready to leave the building.

Two days later, I was home looking over the pieces I had bought with my hard-earned money; and I was pleased with my purchase. Such a pity one was so heavy that I had to be careful how I wore my jackets; and the others were to be stored away in a safe in my bedroom.
“Honey!” my wife’s voice called from downstairs, “Are you home?”
Holstering the piece, I had purchased and I locked away the large cigar box and looked out of the bedroom door, “Yes, I’m here!”
She slowly climbed the steps towards me, “So, how did it go?”
“We got a real bargain.”
“The kids aren’t home for a few hours, can you show me them?”
An hour late, she sat on the bed tentatively touching them, “Okay, now I know how to use them, what happens if the kids get a hold of them?”
I smiled, “They won’t. There’s two keys for the box and that’s it... and we have a floor safe.”
“What worries me the most is if The Main Departments will find out.” Her eyes locked with mine; knowing we’d both be screwed if they did.

“Sir. Wake up.” I was shaken awake three days later in the middle of the night, “Are you Captain Sean Allan Richards?”
I was blinded by a bright torchlight, “Who in the hell wants to know? I’m the Captain of Police of District 12, Area 35 of the Logan Quarter. So, get that torch out of my face. Who in the hell are you!”  I demanded reaching over and turning on my bedside lamp, to find the bedroom filled with The Main Departments people. My three children were standing in front of our wardrobe, bleary-eyed without a clue of what was going on and the Department of Child Services were ready to take them away, “Put my children back in their beds... why are they here?”
The man in the mandatory bullet-proof vest groaned, “We have reason to believe you recently purchased a few new – and illegal – pieces for your protection. You know it’s illegal to own fire arms, Captain; even for the police to have them in their homes.”
“Sean, just give them the pieces.” My wife whispered, “So we can have our children back.”
I sighed, “Okay. You can have them.” I reached under my pillow and showed my first one, “It’s not loaded... it’s one to use as a threat; it’s why I liked it.” Getting out of bed, I knelt on the floor, pulled out the key from my pyjama pants pocket (Jeanie had made this pocket in all my pyjamas pants especially for this reason) and pulled back the rug covering the lose boards. I took up two and placed my hand over the locking mechanism where it clicked open, and I retrieved the cigar box, “There’s a pair in there – and here’s the box of ammo that goes with them.” I put both boxes on the Glory Box at the end of the bed, where they were retrieved by the man in charge.
“Is there anything else in there you shouldn’t have?” he peered over my shoulder.”
“Just our last Wills and Testaments and my wife’s mother’s engagement ring.” I said.
“Okay, then.” He nodded as he took the keys to the cigar box and opened it. His eyes widened in admiration, “Woah, these are really nice.”
“Thanks. I am the police and the guy took a big risk selling to me.” I closed the safe back up, relocked it and replaced the boards again, pushing the rug back over.
He pulled out one, opened the box of ammo and smiled, “Yeah, but you didn’t know he was an undercover dude did you?”
“No. Why wasn’t I informed about him?”
Putting the piece down, he shrugged, “We knew that you collected pieces; and just couldn’t live without them.”
“Neither can you.” I snapped, “Look at you! You’ve all got pieces with you. The main thing is that you don’t have anything that’s as nice as mine; and...”
He picked up the piece from the box and pointed it at me, “Shut up and get on your knees.”
“Daddy!” my eldest girl screamed, tears in her voice.
“What you’re gonna shoot me in front of my family? Pretty cowardly seeing I’m unarmed.” I smirked.
A whisper came from behind me, “Captain...” and a piece was shoved into my hands at my right hip.
I picked up on the impromptu assistance and stood in the way of my children immediately as I raised my piece, ready to use it, “Ally, get your brother and sister out of here.”
“I’ll pick ‘em off one by one.” He moved his aim to my kids, and I moved with it, “Move!”
“No... you have the ammo and I only have what’s here in this piece... this is an unlevel playing field.”

For a moment, there was silence.

For a very long moment of our lives – the longest moment of not knowing what to do – silence engulfed the bedroom.

This was until Jeanie suddenly moved from her side of the bed, throwing a box of ammo at me! Without moving, my hand moved out and caught it from the air, cracked the box open and I tilted the box sideways where a stick slid out ready.
Slowly, I slid that piece into my mouth, bit down and the let the fresh minty taste fill my senses as I knew what to do, “Ally, honey, get inside our wardrobes... it’s gonna get messy.”
“Yes, Dad.” She nodded taking her brother and sister with her inside our wardrobes and pulling the door closed, “Can I have some ammo?”
I chewed on it slowly: “No, it’s only for adults.”
“Aaw, now you’ve got yourself all ready, let’s go then.” He stuck his nose in the air, took off out of my room, down the stairs! I followed him immediately out into the early morning light with my piece drawn and ready to use, “Come on, Captain! Catch me if you can with your useless piece! Pew! Pew! I’ll get ya!”

I dodged and snuck behind a tree, “Missed me, you yella belly!” I took aim and: “Pew! Pew! Pew! Hey gotcha! Right in the arm!”

Sunday, 11 February 2018


Chuck has us choosing a strange photo off Google. I picked mine from 'Doctor Strange'... it looked interesting weird to my mind as a story worked out immediately as I looked at it.


The glass was cold to my touch and the cityscape appeared as dead as my mood. But I wasn’t sure when I was...

...where I was...

Alive or dead... awake or dreaming... this place seemed familiar, and yet it wasn’t. I raised my dirty face to the sky as I beat my fists against the glass and started screaming a scream nobody heard...

“Help! Help me please!” My voice cracked as the rain beat against the windows of my house and the thunder drum rolled overhead. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I sighed, “Just a storm.”
I’d been suffering through similar nightmares for weeks and yet had no idea what they meant. Swinging my legs over the edge of my bed, I rested my hands on my knees and looked outside as the lightning flashed and thunder responded.
I wasn’t going to get anymore sleep tonight – not with a storm around – so I rose, padded across my room and picked up my dressing gown and pulled it on. It was time to see if we had electricity, see if the storm had knocked out the power yet.
Flicking the living room light, I found nothing came on, “Yep, nothing.”
I walked out to the floor to ceiling windows taking in the cityscape and had the feeling of déjà vu. It wasn’t a comforting feeling either. Slowly I walked over to the windows and peered out across the city of darkened windows and found only a few lights were on.

This wasn’t because of the storm.

This was something else.

Looking down into the street, I noticed cars were on the streets. But most were burnt out, still smouldering as the rain poured from the storm skies.

I wondered: Am I still dreaming or ... am I awake?

Placing my hands upon the smooth glass in front of me, I felt the chill of the outside greet my fingertips. But then, in my dream, I could feel that as well... so really, am I awake right now or not?
My gut cooled as I pulled them away quickly and my mouth turned dry, “Shit.” I had spotted that the garden beyond the glass was dead, not from neglect, but from... “...acid.” I whispered to myself, “This is no ordinary storm.”
“No it’s not, Peter.” A voice said behind me.
I spun to find a well-dressed man standing in the gloom of my living room leaning on an ivory walking stick. Looking him up and down, “Who in the hell are you?”
“Well, I’m a bit like you... this is no ordinary storm, but then, you and me? We’re no ordinary humans; and to stop this thing, we have to work together.”
“Aren’t you my enemy?”
Turning, he smiled in the gloom of my living room, a diamond glinted from his mouth, “I might be, but then, I’m not the enemy to everyone. I can help you... you did scream for help, didn’t you?”
“I was sleeping.”
“Were you?”
“Come back to your room and let’s see if you were.” He walked back to my bedroom, and I followed him to find somebody was in my bed, “Who in the hell...” I stopped as I stepped closer and the man turned on the bedside lamp, “How come that didn’t work before?”
“It won’t for you, but it does for me.”
I wasn’t sure about what that meant, and didn’t wish to ask as I looked closer at the person and found it was me! I was in my bed still!

But how could I be if I was...

I turned and looked at him, “I don’t understand... how can.. I’m here.. and I’m there... and...” I took a step back, stumbling and backing away from him, “You’re not real, I’m dreaming this!” I ran out to my living room, where I spotted a helicopter passing overhead. I raced over to the windows.
“Help me! I’m here! Please land and get me!” I pounded against the dirty glass of my condo. I raised my dirty face to the sky as I beat my fists against the glass and started screaming a scream nobody heard...

Saturday, 3 February 2018

Romancing The Stone

It's Shake'n'Bake time! Chuck had us pick 2 from a list he had on this week's Flash Fiction email. And I chose BDSM erotica and Revenge Thriller... yeah, I chucked in a little vampire fun for a kick too.


“Are you sure you can’t see anything?” he asked.
“Yeah. Where am I?” the lace of the blindfold tickled my cheeks as I spoke.
“The playroom.” He said.
Twisting my hands, I squirmed in my seat, “Oh goodie. We’re gonna have some fun.” His footsteps padded away from the chair as he turned on the video camera – something he had never done before; and I was never comfortable with, something he knew I hated, “Watcha doin’ there Skipper?”
“Oooh, nothin’ just having a bit of fun.” He lied.
Smelling the air, I knew from his sweat that he was lying but I didn’t want to let on about that, “Okay.”

Bradley and I met at a swingles party. These are parties where you were single and just mingled with other singles, took part in all kinds of sexual games and orgies.

As a vampire, I find what Humans do interesting to the highest degree. They fascinate me to no end in how they want to reach that sexual high and wish to stay there – but there’s nothin’ like being a creature like me.

The smell of blood to a Human isn’t as delicious as it is to a vampire. It smells coppery and awful and makes your mouth water – and you don’t know why. It instils fear and loathing in you and all you wish to do is run when you get a noseful of it.

That’s normal for a Human – don’t worry.

But for a vampire? Well, that’s the dinner bell ringing loud and clear for us. And when I met Bradley, he thought he had romanced me off my feet by being charming and lovely and brilliant – however in truth, I had picked up on a scent I hadn’t come across in a very long time.

Yes, I came across an Immortal.

These guys aren’t vampires – they are like the fabled ‘Highlanders’ you see in that movie and television show. They live for centuries and have to die off every fifty years or so. And Bradley had been around for a very long time – over three centuries in fact – and he had been a part of Van Helsing’s first army way back when I was born into this dark life.

This was a thing which my dear, sweet Bradley didn’t know about me – well I don’t think he did – and we played all kinds of games, like the one we’re playing now. And we rather enjoy playing these games; as he thinks he’s got the upper hand.

I tied the blindfold on and looked into her face, waving my hand, “Are you sure you can’t see anything?”
“Yeah. Where am I?”
“The playroom” I grinned walking to the video camera and pressing the record button. The screen lit up and showed her tied to the chair in the sexy leather dominatrix outfit I had ordered online for her. She had loved it. It suited her.
She squirmed in her seat, “Oh goodie. We’re gonna have some fun.”
Michelle is her name and she is a Medical Examiner – well in this life – and she gets away with looking like she belongs in a cemetery. Her darkened eyes and ash curls match her athletic body – all of which I fell for.
But with vamps, that’s how they look to reel you in – they look sexy, hot and are everything you ever want in a person.
And she hunted in the usual haunts a blood-hunter would go: places where Humans felt the most comfortable, and where I met her at a swingles bar. What I don’t think she knew was that I’m an Immortal; a person who genetically can exist for centuries without dying. My parents were normal, Humans who gave birth to an Immortal by pure chance – but I was told it foretold by a witch in our clan in Scotland. But that clan, our family, that area of Scotland is long gone and I’m one of the last ones left.
I don’t think Michelle knows about who I am. But I know who the hell she is; and this video will be sent straight to Van Helsing himself in Germany where he’s on his deathbed – as she is the last of her family in existence; and he would be pleased to witness her death.
My phone vibrated. A message coming in, and I checked it: ‘Signal coming in clear. Proceed, my son.’

“Bradley, are you there?” I asked, knowing full well he was planning my death and I was on show for somebody he was trying to impress.
“Yes my love.” His voice was closer to me as he moved my hair over my shoulder, “Fun is what you wish, fun is what we’ll have.”

The signal came through skype nice and clear as Van Helsing laid in his bed connected up to life support, a tank of oxygen next to him as he held the mask to his face.
His life was at an end – at long last – and he was watching the revenge he’d been staying alive for. He wasn’t an Immortal, not like his son Bradley, but he did have some of Dracula’s blood coursing through his veins for the longest time; for the past three and half centuries. And in the past year, he had to have a blood transfusion, and his long, long life started to come to an end.
Yes, he started to feel his age in so many ways. His joints ached and hurt, as his mind aged swifter than he cared to admit. Before his very eyes, he witnessed himself aging over the past five years, becoming the withering waif of a Human the doctors had turned him back into.
He almost hated those doctors – but when he thought about it, he had lived longer than his three wives, five daughters, four sons, forty-five grand-children, twenty-five great-grandchildren and fifteen grandchildren. His line was still going on with Bradley in the lead; with his wife and their little brood of a family under the protection of the Van Helsing Agency.
And Bradley was the most blood-thirsty of his children who had turned into a Vampire Hunter – he hadn’t seen such violence in a person since he was a young man; since he spotted his hatred for that vampire which destroyed his family. He coughed, wheezing at the sheer memory of how Dracula had massacred his whole village, “Damned bastard...”
“Shush now, sir. Let’s enjoy your work after so long in waiting.” His man wiped his forehead with a cool cloth, then took the mask away for moment and dabbed up a spot of blood he had coughed up, “Shall I join you, or do you wish this to be a private moment?”
His tired eyes looked over at Jeeves (he had never known the man’s real name as he’d gone through so many servants in his time), “No, no, stay please, enjoy it as much as I will.”

Bradley came to in the chair with the blindfold on. The lace of it tickled his cheek and, as he struggled, he knew he was wearing the leather outfit she had been wearing.
“Hi lover.” her voice was nearby, “Comfy?”
“Am I wearing the leather ... um.. thing you were?”
“Yes. Actually, while you were out, I changed you into the one I was wearing. We’re not the same size, but leather stretches.” he could hear a smile in her voice, “I’ve been going through your phone and there’s some interesting intell on here... from New Orleans, Germany, London, New York City – all from the same person: you call him Father.”
“Oh crap.” He mumbled, “Listen, Michelle, I’m not what you think.”
“You are exactly what I think. You’re an immortal. I could smell it on you and your family destroyed mine centuries ago.” I snapped, “So, you tracked down the last of my family and thought it would go down well to seal the deal while your Daddy-dearest is laying on his death bed in Düsseldorf? He is watching this through Skype; and your phone has been going crazy since I overpowered you and tied you up.”
His voice shook and broke: “Please, I have nothing to lose, and I love you.”
I shook her head as I stood there nude next to the camera, “You see, you don’t. You put Van Helsing before me; and that’s just wrong. And what’s worse is that you don’t love me because you’re married with a little brood of kiddlie-winks yourself. So, once I kill you – and make it look like something weird gone wrong for the police to find – I’ll track down your family and kill them too.”
Bradley’s phone rang and I put it on speaker as his old voice came across the line sounding like crackling paper: “Michelle, please don’t harm him. He is my first son, and my only link to...”
“No, he’s my last meal before I kill off your entire line.” I said, “And you came after me. All I was doing was minding my own business. I had a job, I scored blood the right way and I wasn’t killing anyone. So, what the fuck, man?”
A laugh crackled across the phone line: “You see, my dear Michelle, you are too late. The police are storming the building as we speak and my son will be saved; and you will be killed on sight.”
I threw the phone to floor. The camera shattered against the nearest wall and the computer smashed into a million pieces onto the floor. Faster than Bradley could keep up with me, I sped around the room, found the secret entrance out to our bedroom, dressed, packed, and went back to him.
He was still sitting there.
I could hear the police pounding on the front door.
Approaching from behind him, I attacked. I drank. I made sure there was nothing left in him but bone marrow.
By the time the police smashed their way in, I was long gone. How? They’d never know.

Three days later, I was standing outside the house of Bradley’s wife three hundred miles away. My hair was red, I had blue contacts in and dressed in a 1960’s housewife’s dress I found at a thrift store.
I looked totally different to how I did in New Jersey.
Pulling out my phone, I found the advertisement for a live-in nanny for the Van Helsing family. Smiling, I walked up to the humble-looking house and rang the bell.
A young blonde teenaged boy answered with Bradley’s eyes and build, “Can I help you?” jeez, he sounded like his Dad.
“Yes.” I smiled, “I’m here about the advert for a nanny.”
He turned from me for a moment: “Mom!” then turned back, “Please come in.”
“Thank you.” I walked in and looked around. I could get used to this kinda life. Once I was shown to my quarters, I pulled out my phone, called a number, "Jeeves, I'm in."

Jeeves looked down at Van Helsing as he pocketed the syringe, and picked up the phone from next to the bed, "Okay, Michelle. I'm done on my end too."