Jennifer's Fate

Okay, this week, it's X meets Y!  This means two big movie titles merge together and to make one story.  Chuck made two lists and I picked out two great movies and mixed them together the best way I could.... 'Terminator' and 'Back to the Future'.  Enjoy!


"Come with me if you want to live." his massive gloved hand moved toward me, open palmed as his huge frame stood over me.  Holy crap, just who was this guy?  Did he just kill the arsehole who tried to shoot me as I walked home from the police station and... is that Delorian he's drove up in?
"Okay." I grabbed his hand and he pulled me to my feet as though I was a feather.
"Come on." he had an Austrian accent, but was demanding enough that I didn't notice anything much about him, except, well, he filled out those biker jeans really... really well.
Jumping in to the car, the whole thing groaned under his weight and he pulled down the door as I did, encasing us inside the cramped quarters of what looked like...

No, hang on!  

It was!

It was Doc Brown's actual Delorian!

"Shit!  This fuckin' thing really works!" I blurted looking at the date-marker as the large man punched in today's date, then another date in twenty years' time and then started the car.  The car growled to life as the Flux Capacitor over my left shoulder glowed into action, "Jesus Christ in a side-car." I pulled on my seat belt as the central locking made sure I didn't jump out and my driver - who I thought was saving me - shoved the car into gear and planted the pedal to the metal.

FLASH!

FLASH!

BOOM!

Bright daylight invaded my sight and I quickly shaded my face as my driver handed me a pair of sunglasses, "Here, you'll need these."
Fumbling for them, I shoved them onto my face and looked through the windscreen, "Where are we?" clearing my throat, I corrected myself, "Better still, when are we?"
He didn't say anything for a few moments as the car moved amongst the clouds and early morning sunlight, then he looked at the dash and steered to the left and the car suddenly jerked and bumped!  The tyres screeched as they found purchase on the ground and he applied the brakes. 
We sat there amongst the cloud.
"It's fog." he said.
"When are we?"
"Come on." he turned off the car, pulled the keys out and got out.
I followed him outside and found it was cold.  From somewhere inside the car's tiny quarters, he had grabbed a jacket and gave it to me.  Pulling it on, I looked around and could only just make out a house, "Where are we?"
"This is your place."
"Why do I live in such a secluded place?"
"You don't." he said, "This mountain is filled with people.  It's early morning and nobody is awake yet." he checked his watch and pressed a button and the watch began to countdown, "We have three hours to be here, then I take you back." holding his hand up, he pressed a button on the keys and car vanished.
"Hey!" I yelled, "Where'd it go?"
"Relax, it's still there... but it's just cloaked." he made an attempt at smiling and failed, then walked past me as the door of the house nearby opened, "Doc, I brought her here.  Now can I do my usual updates?"
"Yes, yes, of course.  Jennifer... it's so good to see you." Doc Brown's wild hair appeared to glow in the early morning sun as the fog lifted, "Come inside, Marty's been looking forward to seeing you again."
"Again?" I asked, "But I saw him up at the lake just last night."
He touched my arm as his eyes widened, remembering where I had come from, "Of course, it was 1985 last night, now, it's ... oh never mind, you don't need to know." he hurried towards the house in his usual, wide gate before turning toward me, "Come on, Jennifer, there's so much to do."
"But why am I here?"
Rushing up to me, he touched my shoulder, "There's so much that goes wrong in your future... and it's not you and Marty, it's your kids.  They're losers... they pick up insecurities from your past and apply it to their lives."
"That can happen?"
"It's in their DNA... it was supposed to.  But we can change that!" he pulled me on the arm and dragged me toward the house, "You have only three hours to do this."

Marty pushed himself out of the recliner.  He made that weird, old-man sound my Dad makes each time he gets up.  He's lost a lot of his gorgeous brown hair I loved running my fingers through and he had gotten kinda, wide and podgy in the middle; something he said he'd never get.  Then, Marty looked at me and smiled.  He had the same sparkle in those beautiful eyes he used to when we were... last night.
"Marty." I whispered, "You look..."
"Like crap." he said, "I know.  But we can change this." he looked me up and down, "Did that cyborg kill the mugger?"
"Yes. I did." the Terminator said from his charging unit to my right, "This means you've already changed history in a major way, Jennifer."
I frowned, "No, you did.  I didn't expect you to show up in Doc's time machine; and if I was supposed to die that way, well that's how it was supposed to go."
"Actually it wasn't supposed to go that way." Marty said walking toward me, "Needles destroyed my car last night, remember?  When I didn't take up that race - and he just avoided the Mercedes - he pulled apart the engine in the truck, then beat me up.  You had to walk home from the hospital."
The memory of last night clicked into place, "Yes, that's right.  I had gone to the police and reported him, and that took hours. I was on my way home, because my folks were out of town; and nobody could take me home."
Marty looked to the floor, "I couldn't stop any of it."
"Needles is a horrible person.  But seeing Biff was his Grandfather, well, it's in his genes." I snorted, "So, what happens now?"
Doc looked through the historical records on a thin little screen and a keyboard, "Well, according to Google, Needles just got out of prison and is hoping to get a hold of your family - and soon!"
"And I asked where we are and you didn't tell me." I looked at the Terminator.
"We're still in Hill Valley, California, but it's different." Marty muttered, "Terribly different."
My gut turned cool, "How different?"
Doc sighed as he walked away from the screen, "Jennifer, we have to send you back and - this time - you have to let the guy shoot you."
Marty turned away from me and walked toward the fireplace, leaning on the mantle, "Oh, man, this is heavy."
"Why did you rescue me in the first place?" I asked, my voice shaking as tears blurred my vision, "And what happens if I get away?"
Marty turned to Doc, "Yeah, what happens if she does on her own?"
"Well, this won't be the future we'll be in, it'll be a different one." Doc said, "And if you remember the last time we traveled back in time, Marty, you changed the past with that Sports Almanac and we ended up in a different 1985?"
"Yes!  I do remember that!" Grinning, he walked to me, "Now, you have to fight that mugger, and kill him... can you do that?"
"Kill?" 
The Terminator unplugged himself from his unit, "If she has never killed before, she will not kill now."
"He's right." I said, "Marty, I'll have to see how I go... if I'm desparate enough, it might happen; you know, the flight or fight response.  But if I can't do it, well, I can't do it."
Doc looked up at the clock on the mantle, "Let's have something to eat and see what we can do."

Lunch in the future was ordinary.  We had sandwiches and coffee, I mean, it all came out of the fridge, was fresh and delicious and and the fruit we ate afterwards was lovely.  
It was as thought nothing had changed between 1985 and 2005.  But I found the bread very, blah. The water was filtered and the coffee wasn't instant; instead it was very exotic and I was told everyone drank it all ground up and in a plunger now.  Wow... how upper-class!
Over lunch, we discussed how to make sure I lived. Marty kept on looking at me with concern on his face. When he thought I wasn't looking, he pulled out a photo of me from his wallet and stared at it, looked at me and back at it, sighed and tried to keep from crying.

I knew it.

I was supposed to die last night.

And this is how his life had turned out... no wife, no kids, no life to speak of.  Marty McFly had turned out to be a failure right through and it was all because I had died last night.
I had to do something about this - and I knew I had to live through that mugging.
"What are you thinking?" The Terminator's voice by my shoulder startled me.
"Oh... hi." I turned to him, "I um, was thinking about what I'm going to do differently when I go back."
"No matter what, you'll be mugged." he said.
"Not necessarily." I smiled, "There's more than one way to skin a cat.  Dad always told me that."
His watch began beeping.  He pressed the buttons on either side of it, "It's time to go back."

The Delorian sped off, down the road.  The Terminator had dropped me outside the police station at the exact time I was scheduled to go inside. Turning I went inside and made my statement - which took me an hour and a half.
Stepping outside, I found it was raining.
"Damn." I whispered looking around and pulling my light jacket around me.  

My house was ten blocks away. 

The hospital was only two blocks away.

It was 2am and my folks were out of town until lunchtime tomorrow morning.

I turned toward the hospital, took one step when the doors opened of the police station, "Hey, Jennifer!"
I turned and there stood the Constable who took my statement, "Do you need a lift anywhere?  It's pretty late and raining."
"Yes.  Could you take me to the hospital, please?  Marty's in there, and I'd like to be there for when he wakes up tomorrow." I walked toward him.
"Okay, come back inside, it's not safe out here." he opened the door again and I walked inside with him.

The Terminator watched from across the road in the darkened interior of the Delorian.  He had stayed in 1985 to make sure Jennifer made the right choices tonight; to his relief, she had.  The policeman was going to be her protector tonight; instead of her being on her own and found dead later the next morning.  

This was going to change the future... but then again, Doc was always right about something:  

the future is never set, not permanently anyway.

An Eye For Design

I'm back!  Yep, I'm working in with Chuck Wendig's 'Terrible Mind's Blog again and doing Flash Fiction Fridays... and this is the first one off the blocks. Here's the prompt:  'You think your character is cool? My character is a fucking adventurous half-orc ranger from a bustling city who studied interior dungeon design'

"Get in there you filth!"

The guard shoved me into the disgusting, vomit-inducing room they called a dungeon and slammed the door behind me as I tripped over an overlapping flagstone and fell flat on my face!
"Yuck." I muttered trying not to let my hands touch the almost-black slime covering the floor, "I can't believe they leave people here."
Rising to my knees, I looked around.  This place was most certainly nothing to look at.  I mean, I've been in dungeons - and I've been in dungeons - and this one was, well, crap on a tortilla.  Sighing, I pushed myself to stand without touching the floor and found this room wasn't tiny. 
Smiling I nodded: 'I can do something with this place.'

Being a half-Orc, I have the best of both worlds; that is I enjoy belting the living shit out of the bad guys (whoever they may be at the time of battle) and then I also have a flair with how I dress off the field.  My home is a cave in Myeena Mountains in Mideilena-West; yes that's across the huge swamp and over the land bridge near the elven quarter.  However, how I came to be able to live there - and not be sent away by the elves - has a lot to do with my half-breed upbringing.  You see, my Mother is Elven and my Father was an Orc... okay, you're wondering exactly what they saw in each other.  Well, it was a wartime love.
Elves go through a time of being in ... um... well they're like cats, okay?  They in heat four times a year and will have it off with anyone or anything.  Yes, my Mother saw my father and ... um... well, being an Orc, he's up for anything - especially Elves.
Okay, now you know how I came to be a half-breed. 

Ick... I know!  

But you wanted to know; I know you wanted to know.

I enjoyed the heat of battle and loved coming home to my little piece of paradise.  I often visited my Mother when I did return and she loved it when I did.


But not everyone liked me.

It's not everyday you see an Orc-like creature walking into an Elven village and nobody will go running and screaming to grab weapons and attack them.  

I'm friendly - really - unless I'm fighting against your army in battle; like I said.

And it wasn't until Mother passed away that the village of Elves started to push me out.  It seemed they were only putting up with my presence all these years.  But when they needed a stronger being to help them with uprooting trees or thatching their roofs in Autumn, I was the one they called upon.  If they needed somebody scare away anyone from the village - besides the dogs we already had - I was the one put on guard duty all night.  I was also the one who helped decorate the gardens, the paths, the houses and make their village win The Village To Live in; according to 'Mid-Mountain Monthly Living Scrolls'.  

Yes.  Not long after Mother died, and after we buried her, the Elves of The Committee waited until I was away in battle to fight for our lands to stay as peaceful as they always have been, before building a wall across the road from my home to their village. This road was one they said they'd always keep paved for me - they had promised to keep the way open for the rest of my life to my mother!
To my mother, they had promised this!
And then, when I started taking the wall down, after I returned home with riches of the battle to share with my 'people', they called on their allies:  The Humans.

Oh!  How I hate The Humans.  They pick and destroy without question.  If they see something different or unusual or 'not right', they'll kill it, then realise it was wrong later on.

So, I fought back - as you do when things aren't right when you're attacked for no right reason.  I used my weapons and acted like my Father... 

I acted like an Orc... dammit... I should have kept my head about me and remembered what my Mother instilled in me:  'Always talk things through.  Nothing comes of violence, Patrick.' 
But it seems my name was no longer Patrick.  They called me 'filth' because I still stunk of the war and battle I been to, because I hadn't had a chance to bath before they ambushed me at the road.

Yes, my capture had been planned.  

I looked around at my dungeon, smiling at my hard work.  The filthy water wasn't going to be drunk by me - no way! Instead I had found the rags of the last person who they had left here and scrubbed the floors, walls and ceiling of thie place.  And oh, how they glistened!

Now, did you know this dungeon was made of marble?  

All it needs is a fountain over in the corner to capture the morning light and fresh hay to take away that icky smell.

Highway to Hell

Chuck has got us writing the last Flash Fiction this year as a random song title.  Now, we don't have to go to the theme of the song, just use the song title; and he's given us 3,000 word limit to write to.  Mine is AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell'... well, because it's been stuck in my head for the last few days.

My life started out like anyone else’s. 

I was born into a loving family and brought up properly to respect my elders, to care for my Mum and Dad and be carefree as a kid.  I learned my lessons at school, went to Karate lessons on the weekends and rode my bike around the BMX tracks at dusk before I heard Dad’s whistle on the wind for us to come home.

Mum was the best cook.  She could make just about anything she could put her hand to from food to clothes to most anything around the house.  Dad built her a craft room the size of the living room and she practically lived in it for around six months before Christmas.  

And we were never allowed in it.

Never.

Not even to borrow a pair of scissors.

We never questioned that rule and just accepted that she was working on Christmas presents or birthday presents and did as we were told.  So, Mum’s craft room was something we never went near, never told anyone about and when we showed our friends around the house, we kinda gave it a dismissive wave saying, ‘Oh, that’s Mum’s craft room; we’re not allowed in there… you know, it’s her cave of mystery.’ We’d giggle and snort and walk off.  Our friends never questioned that room either.

As the years passed, Mum’s hair began to grey little by little.  She started to look more tired, but she still had the energy of a person her age.  I noticed that the more she used her craft room, the older she appeared to become.  I’m not sure if Dad realised it or not.  So I asked him.

“Of course I notice.” He frowned, “She just won’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Dad, have you been inside her craft room since you built it?” I asked.

He looked to his hands, fiddled with his fingernails and then looked at me, “No.  She won’t allow me in either.” Looking over at the room, he shook his head, “I wonder what’s going on.”

Then, one day, I arrived home early from high school to find the door of the craft room ajar and wondered what had happened.  Mum normally kept that room locked up tight – even when we weren’t home.  The rest of the house had been locked up and this room had been built separate from the house.  I didn’t know what do to.  Dumping my school port on the floor near my bedroom, I walked out to the room and felt heat coming from behind the door.  I put my hand up to the gap and it felt like an oven inside there… and going against all the rules I had obey all this time, I pulled the door open more and stepped inside.

This place was the most organised mess I’d ever seen.  There were boxes of material stacked along one wall in order of colour, drawer up drawer of beads sitting along a counter by the window.  Hooked on a long piece of dowel were hoops of ribbon in all widths and colours you could ever possibly imagine.  I saw two sewing machines, two overlockers and in one area of the place were two easels and a collection of paints, brushes and canvas’ as well with smocks all over the place hanging up on hooks ready for use.  But the place was hot… it was like an oven.  By the time I had looked around, I had begun to sweat badly, but hadn’t noticed that the door had swung shut behind me until I heard a loud CLICK sound and I turned, looking at it dumbly.

Without even touching it, I knew that doorknob was hot, by the way it turned a molten orange kinda colour and began to drip onto the floor. 

“Mum!” I called out but my throat was caught, dry and hoarse, “Where are you?”

A very deep chuckle answered me, “Your mother isn’t here, Drew.  But be a good boy and step forwards, let me see my legacy.” Turning to my right I saw an unremarkable man standing next to the counter, “Come here Drew… I must see you for myself.” A grin pulled at his face and his eyes looked like … mine.

“No.” I cringed, “Who are you?  And where is my mother?”

“You are my son… and your mother is a whore.” He snickered, “She made a deal boy, and came here personally to collect her soul today.” He looked me up and down, “But meeting you… that was just an accident, a good one.”

“I don’t care who you think you are…”

“Think?” he stepped forward, “I know I who am.  But have you seen your Daddy look at you lately?  He can’t fully just look at you, can he?”

“What kind of deal did she make?”

He sighed, cocking his head to one side, “She wanted another child, oh so badly she made a deal with the Devil… and guess who I am?” he tapped out a little dance on the spot with that grin on his face, “And I graciously let her… but there was a catch.”

“Isn’t there always?”

“That catch was that the child was mine.”

I felt a sudden hatred for this man so strong I wanted to kill him, “Where is my mother?”

He gave me a mocking smile, “Dead.  Once I take a soul, you die because a human cannot exist without a soul.”

Feeling behind me, I found a pair of large metal scissors – the type that cut material, that are very sharp, that are expensive.  I grabbed them quickly and lunged toward him screaming!  Shoving him to the floor, I felt my hatred explode out of me as I plunged the scissors into him…

… but they hit nothing but the floor!

Scrambling to my feet, I looked around.

Where’d he go?

Turning, I heard the door open, and Dad was standing there, “Son? Drew, you okay?” he spotted the scissors sticking up out of the carpet of the floor and noticed me coated in sweat, “What happened?”

“He took her.” I groaned.

“Your mother?”

I nodded, “She made a deal with the Devil.”

Dad just stood there, not knowing what to do, not until I yanked the scissors out of the carpet, “So you attacked him?”

Dumping them onto the counter, I muttered, “He told me he was my father.  Exactly what did you expect me to do?”

He shrugged.

“You know, you’re acting very… calm about this.”

He ran a hand over his stubbled face as his voice caught in his throat, “Yeah, I know.  It’s because I’ve always known that you’re not mine.  There were just little things about you that gave it away that you didn’t belong to me… and today, we have to save your mother from the place she been sent to.”

“Dad that might take years.”

He looked at me, then look to his hands.  The Devil was right:  my father couldn’t look at me.

“Dad, we don’t know where He put her.”

“Yes we do.” He nodded looking at me finally, “The Devil put her on his throne… but your mother isn’t a Queen.”

“She’s the whore.” I whispered.

It took weeks to find out what we needed to about how to get into Hell without the Devil finding out.  And really there was no real way to do it.  The only way to do anything about getting into that place was to make a deal with a demon… and even then, with my bloodlines, they’d tell their boss who – when you think on it – was the Devil.

Crap really, right?

Yeah… right.

So, there we were – Dad and I – sitting at the dinner table eating pizza after the other kids had gone to bed, working on our search for Mum, when I had the best idea.  Well, okay, not the best, but it was something that would work.

“How about I tell Him I’d go with him.”

Dad turned on me, “Are you nuts?”

“Hear me through.” I touched his arm, “He wants me anyway.  So I go and find out where she is and bring her back through… um…” I search the papers, “Purgatory.”

He looked at the research, “And which Reaper is going to wait for you there?”

“We’ll find a way back.”

“Or not.” A voice said behind us.

We turned to find my sister, Tiffany, standing there in her pajamas, “I’ll summon you back.”

“Summon?”

She walked to the table, quickly read over our plan and sat down, “I’ve been practicing witchcraft for over a year, I can do it.”

“But your initiation…”

“Bah… it’s all flowers and floating pencils.”

“You have to have one.” Dad said, “You can’t do this without being…”

“I’ll talk to my High Priestess and see what I can do.” She smiled, “I want Mum back as well, but like all Hell I’m letting you piss off downstairs without a way back.”

Tiffany came home the next afternoon in a crappy mood, “She won’t let me.”

“You’re not ready?” I asked.

“Not according to her.”

“Sis, I’m not letting you if your High Priestess isn’t letting you.” I said, “But I appreciate the idea of it.”

“Okay.” She said, “But at least let me prepare the pathway for you to enter the place… so you might be able to return the same way.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I grinned.

The cemetery was dark the night we did the ceremony for me to enter Hell.  I wasn’t looking forward to it and neither was Dad… but it was our only way to get our mother home.  The disgusting part was that we had to exhume her grave.  It took around an hour to dig her casket up and open it.  Then, I had to get into the box with the body… this was the freaking shitty part!

The casket was closed – but not nailed shut – and then the ceremony was begun.  Dad spoke the Latin to perfection and then Tiffany prepared the pathway back through the casket for me to come home – and what a way to come home!

I heard the thin layer of dirt being tossed over the lid and then heard them performing the rituals.  Minutes later, I pushed the lid open and found I was in a boiling hot cell of a place.  Heat rays wavered off the floor and all around me.

I was in Hell.

Climbing out of the casket, I stepped onto the roasting ground and stood, and began to walk to the road where the Devil stood waiting for me.

“I knew you just couldn’t resist me.” He smiled.

“I’m here for my mother.”

“The whore?” he laughed, “Very well, you can have her.” He turned and walked across the road, towards a door I hadn’t noticed.  It opened and let us through into a hallway where there were cells upon cells of lost souls of people who had lost their way and were stuck here in Hell for a variety of reasons.

I was here to get my mother out of here and back to Earth where she belonged.

We approached the end of the hallway and the door opened to a room where I found my mother chained to a bed in the middle of a large cell.  She was almost naked and had demons taking advantage of her – one by one – and she just laid back against the grey pillows with a distant expression on her face, in her eyes.

“Mother?” I said stepping toward her.

She turned toward me and her eyes lit up, “Oh… another one…”

“No… I’m your son.”

She turned her face from me whispering, “I have no son… none at all.”

Tears stung my eyes as I turned around, leaning on the door frame ready to be sick.  I had come all this way to find my mother, only to find her chained up and treated like this.

“It must be a shock…”

“Fuck off… you knew she’d do this.” I snapped.

He took a deep breath, “Well, yes, Drew I did.  So, why did you come?  Why did you come alone?”

I turned and looked at him, “Because it’s me you want.  And you would not have stopped me.”

“True.”

I glanced at my Mother once more before approaching the bed, grabbing her shoulders and looking into her eyes and realising immediately, that we had definitely lost her.  Her eyes were nothing but lost pools of nothing – they were empty of life, of soul, of anything to say she used to be a human.  I whispered in her ear, “Mum, it’s me, Drew, your son.  You have a family.  Tiffany missed you.  Dad misses you… little Bradley misses his Mummy… please come home to Earth.” I started to cry, “Or at the very least, ask God to save you.”

Her head snapped around as her voice shrieked, “I have no family!  Never did!” she shoved me away, “Leave me alone, Drew!  For the love of all that’s God’s creatures, Drew go away!” she pulled and yanked at the chains as she tried to scratch at me and I turned away toward the door.

It opened and I stepped back out into the hallway…

…walked down past the other cells…

…out onto the side of the highway…

I crossed it toward the place I was before, found the casket and climbed back into it… dreading the fact I had to close the lid on my own.

I now despised small spaces.

Pushing the lid open, I sat up to find Dad was squatting by the casket to help me up, “Shit Drew… you were gone for a good five hours.  It’s almost dawn.”

“We lost her.” I said, “She’s…”

“…here.” Tiffany said looking over the top of grave site with a torch.

With Dad helping me up, we looked over the top of the grave to find my Mum was standing next to the grave, “Holy crap on toast.” Dad mumbled, “Let’s clean this place up and get the hell outa here.”

“Please, let’s not use that word anymore.” Mum said.

“Which one?” I asked clambering out of the grave.

“Hell.” She said holding me close, “You pulled me out of that place, and I was on the highway to Hell… the true Hell.  He had more plans for me than just what you saw, Drew.”

“What kind of plans?” Tiffany asked.

“Well, he’s let me go.” Mum said, “We’re safe from Him… for now.”

When we arrived home, Dad and Mum sat in the kitchen talking.  I listened at my bedroom door with my light out to their conversation:

“Sweetheart, what did you mean by: for now?” he asked.

“Do we have to…”

“Yes, we do.” He said.

“He let me go.  But Drew is the Son of the Devil.  When he is old enough, he will be ordered to walk the Highway to Hell by his true father – and nothing we do will save him from his true destiny in life.”

“What destiny is that?”

I heard Mum start to cry, “We’ll be able to say that our son is the Devil.”

God's Own Keeper

I was there from the moment of the Big Bang to the present day; perched right on the Big Guy’s shoulder, whispering in his ear of what should go where, who was good and bad and… which place should go where.

Yep, even when this tiny little speck in the universe was nothing but a revolving, molten rock of crap; I was there watching on with him. 

And he was so fucking proud of this thing… this third rock from the Sun… this Paradise – he aptly named it.  This Earth.

There has been others he has tried to make perfect – and they have been absolute failures.  You imperfect Humans are finding them dotted all over the place – all too hot, or too cold – lost in their own piece of Hell, revolving around a sun. 

One is too big and too close to its sun.  Another is too far away from its sun and too small – so is too cold.  However, I gotta say, the Big Boy got this here little place right!

But I didn’t expect you Humans to be such assholes once you got your greedy little hands on it. 

What?

Excuse me?  You’ve got a nerve calling me such names… I’m just telling you the truth.  After all, you need it.

Your creator of all things great gave you a home and you’ve done your best to destroy not only it, but yourselves.

Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?  No?  Okay… we were created as protectors – warriors – to watch over your sorry asses, and we have lived amongst you for centuries on your planet without your knowledge and yet, some of you seem to think we either don’t exist, or you’re so big on us existing, you have us all wrong completely.

Besides, we are God’s Keepers really… we protect him from you, and that’s the reality of it all.  You’re nothing but grabby little parasites and you Humans don’t have any idea how to back off and leave him alone.  Yes, yes, I know he’s the Almighty Creator, but really, do you have to step past us, and lavish all the praise on him?

It’s not jealousy… no it’s not.

Really, I don’t think it is…

He’s been so busy with so many things lately that I don’t think he can see just one of you; well not today.  Well, not ever really.  Why do you ask?  Oh of course, you have just one question (which normally turns into more than that).  I’m sorry but you just can’t see him.  No, I insist you can’t… because … because… well dammit he’s not here!

He left us… he’s gone!

Heaven’s empty and I’m his Keeper and I don’t even know where he is… you happy now?  I don’t know where God is and he left because of you.

Hey, look, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t lay the blame on you.

It’s not your fault.  I don’t know whose fault it is; really I don’t.  But he just got tired of looking over a place he had given to you all out of the goodness of his heart for you to care for… and just look at what you’ve done to it!

War.

Famine.

Hatred.

Lust.

Ego.

Destruction.

You know, I could just smite you all and start again… yes, you heard me, an Apocalypse would do you all wonders.  No, not a zombie or vampire or any other damned mythical crap thing you’ve made up in your tiny little minds, I mean I real Apocalypse, one none of you would ever survive!

After all this is all just an experiment.

The third – or was it the fourth – place God has tried out to make it work for him.

And just look at you all… still thinking within the confines of your tiny little minds; instead of taking hold of what He gave you – intuition, your mind power, your ‘gut feeling’.  Yes all of that is damned well real you know – not just crap you seemed to think is made up.

Some of you have some real power under your belts… some scary as shit power.  But none of you use it.  You’re scared little children who have no clue exactly how much power he’d bestowed upon you.  And when you do figure out that you have some power within you, what do you do?  You become some greedy puss-sucking pond scum, with your hand out, all ready and wanting more and more…

…more power and more money.

I ought to…

Oh, Sir, you’re back. 

I.. yes, things are completely under control.  I’ve just been answering some of your prayers of your people while you’ve been out.

Pardon?  Oh… they’re not scared, they’re in awe of you.  Hehee… complete awe…

…aren’t you, Humans?

Why are they terrified?  Um… well,  I think it’s because I might have been a little impatient with them.  I’m sorry, Sir.  It most certainly will not happen again – honest.

But Sir, please… I know I did this before… but that was over two millennia ago.  These Humans now don’t know that – not until you mentioned it.

I beg of you, take mercy on me… I am your Keeper… please, Sir.  Where are you going to send me, if not Earth?

Michael?  What are you doing here? 

Krampus All The Way...

I don’t believe in Santa Claus anymore.

Really I don’t… and you won’t either once you’ve read what I’ve told you about who visited us on Christmas Eve last year!

Okay, I wanted to see who left those presents around the house, and the candy in my stockings… stupid really.  After all I’m sixteen years old… and I shouldn’t believe in Santa Claus; but for my little brother, Steve, I do, because I have to take him to the mall Santa each year.  Steve is seven and loves going.

So, I do believe for the fantasy of it all.

But last year, I stayed up with him to see Santa come to our house, just to spy on him. 

But the Big Guy in the Red Suit wasn’t exactly who I encountered when I hear the sound on the roof that night.  And he didn’t come down the chimney – he came through the window.  Yeah, he broke into our house.

I remember keeping very still under our blanket on the lounge watching this very tall, dark person enter my home, letting in the chill of the night outside.  He walked straight past the treats – ignoring them – and to the tree where he just looked at it with disgust and snorted at how pretty it was.

“Propaganda!” his deep voice muttered.

This was not the Santa Claus I was hoping to see… and I didn’t attempt to wake Steve from his slumber.

He had a sack with him, which he opened and pulled out large lumps of coal and dumped them into our stockings lining the mantle.  Then, he turned, bumped the tree – where an ornament fell off onto the hearth, smashed and he promptly stood on it – then went to the plate of food left out.  This was when he turned to me after playing with the biscuits and carrots and dipping his blackened fingers into the purity of the milk, “What?  No booze?”

It hadn’t even crossed my mind he knew I was awake, “Um… no.” I glanced at the milk and it had turned an unhealthy colour of grey as he pulled his fingers out of it, “Who are you?”

Standing up to his full height, where his horns nearly touched the ceiling, he looked down his long crooked nose at me, “I am Krampus… haven’t you heard of me?”

“No.”

“Of course not… my goodie-two-shoes cousin has taken up the spotlight for so long, nobody takes notice of me anymore.” He said dumping his black sack on the carpet with a loud thud and pulling his darkened cloak around himself.

“You can’t be that bad.” I foolishly said.

Snapping a glare at me, he extended a long-taloned handed to me, “Can’t I?”

I huddled closer to Steve who murmured in his sleep, “I can’t leave my brother alone.”

“Bring him with.”

“No.  He’s too young.”

“Krampus, that you?” a voice asked behind the tall, dark man.  He turned and we were both greeted with a bright red suit of the Man himself:  Santa Claus, “What are you doing to this young person?”

He looked him up and down, “You’re so… commercialised.”

Gently putting down his large, red sack, the man stroked his long white beard, “Well, you could have gone into business with me… but you didn’t.”

“Business?” I asked.

Santa looked at me, “Why yes… being Santa Claus is a business, didn’t you know?”

I didn’t want to hear it, but I think I knew all along it was something of a fraud, but, well, you know what it’s like:  you enjoy something so much you don’t want to hear the truth because believing the lie is easier to do.

“But don’t worry, Amanda.” Santa said, “I know you’ve been good to Steve there.”

“How do you know all about everything about us?”

“I don’t.” he said, “Krampus does.  He’s my cousin, and so he does the digging around and I hear all the good and bad things from him… basically it’s all hearsay.”

“So, we’ve all been good?”

Krampus smiled darkly, “Or bad… it doesn’t matter.  You all get what you want at Christmas anyway no matter what you’ve done in a year… Santa’s just a soft touch.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” The big jolly man said, “But I do give everything you ever want to you because you have been good – or so you say – and if you haven’t, and you’ve lied, well, Krampus could easily just lie and tell me something else.”

I frowned, “But I don’t understand, you said Krampus could have joined the family business… isn’t he doing just that by handing on the ‘Naught & Nice’ List to you?”

“No… he could help me deliver gifts around the world and live with me at the North Pole.” Santa said, “But he’s not like that.”

“I don’t like being paid off for being the good guy.” Krampus said, “Besides, I don’t fit down a chimney all that well.”

Santa rolled his eyes, “Do you think I do?” he patted his large belly, “It’s all magic you big idiot.” He turned and opened the sack and began to pull out the gifts, placing them under the tree.  Santa then noticed the shattered ornament and fixed with a sweep of his hand.  Standing up, he walked over to the table where the milk and food was and picked up the glass of milk.  It had turned from grey to white again… I wondered if my eyes had deceived me until Krampus stood by watching him.

“Santa no!”  I called out, but it was too late, the big man had downed the glass of white liquid.

He turned after putting down the glass, stopped and looked up at Krampus, “What did you do to that milk?”

The horned man shrugged as a smirked grew on his face, “Nothing.”

“He dipped his fingers in it.” I said.

“No… he didn’t, did he?” Santa whispered disbelievingly, “Not now… not when the world needs me the most.” The most horrible thing occurred!  Santa transformed into a creature I didn’t know.  His red suit turned dark, his bright red had vanished and horns grew from his head as his jolly round belly disappeared too.  He was no longer a short little man with sparkling eyes and a long, white beard… no, he looked very much like… Oh no!

He looked like the man standing next to me:  Krampus.

Santa looked at himself, “Krampus, what have you done?”

The evil man stood there, smiling, “What the world needs is the truth, Santa…a taste of who you really are.”

I looked at the man next to me, “And who is that?”

Krampus cast a long, knowing look in my direction, “Santa always looked like this before the magic was given to him to look like the one you know.  So, behold the new Santa Claus.”

The Race

From the time the doors opened, it was a frenzied, crazy rush through the store.   My feet almost didn’t touched the shining lino as the crush of people shoved from behind like cattle to grab, grab, grab at the best deals…

Yes, it’s a love/hate relationship we have with Black Friday… and it means so much to many and so little to others.

And yet, I go and put myself through this torture each year just to find a bargain… to fight over that one item I might want, need, adore… relish!

But really, do I need all this shit?

Not really…

It’s just the competition of it all, the race, the feeling of knowing I might get something somebody wants and – nah-nah-nah! – I have it, and you don’t!  Hahahaa!!!

It’s the feeling of being the bully in the schoolyard after all the years of being picked on, and finally being able to push, shove and climb and conquer the crowds of this insane day to find what you want and rip it off the shelf and say it’s yours!

Yes I’m being a bitch about this, and yes, it makes me feel good to do this too… but it’s Black Friday.

It’s an insane day of shopping.

Some people go to begin their Christmas Shopping… some go to ‘browse’… Me?  I go just for the competition of seeing what I can get into my trolley and how far I can take it.

Well, I did until the violence broke out…

It started out with a run of the mill hair-pulling, nail-scratching girl fight… not bad to stand by and watch.  That was until a gun was pulled and …

…BANG!

It was deafening.

Everyone dropped to the floor and left the two standing, but I dropped faster than everyone else.

How did a gun get through the doors?  I'm not sure, but that was the least of my problems...

The next thing I knew, I had people fussing over me.

I couldn’t move.

Now, the race wasn’t for me to do my Christmas shopping…

…no… this was a much different race.

Black Friday had turned into a race to save my life.

Super-Kinky-Man

He turned from the busy city streets, as his sensitive hearing picked up a woman’s cry above everything else.

Yes, somebody needed his assistance yet again…

Turning, somebody was using the phone booth – damn!

Racing in through the door of nearest café, he found the restrooms at the back, dodged past a customer and into the stall. 

Nobody saw him whip past in his kinky purple costume with his cape flapping out the back as he zipped out into the street, his purple go-go boots barely touching the ground!

His mission was clear! 

He had  to find that poor woman in need!

Her cries were coming closer.  

She wasn’t far away as he honed on in her place in an apartment building, the breeze making his high-cut bodysuit feel as though it wasn’t there at all… it felt good!  It made his hard, sexy body harder in more than one place.  More than that, he was ready for what she most probably needed – him!

And as he found her place, he saw her distress – almost felt it in his loins.  He knew she had been dumped, and needed somebody!

She needed anybody… to be with.

That anybody was him, and he knew it!

He landed gently just outside her balcony doors and watched in on her before clearing his throat quietly.

She turned, staring.  Her hair was a mess, looking like lovely as every woman he had saved from heartbreak, “Oh, my… it’s you.”

“I heard your cries of distress, and thought…” he started.

“Well, come in.” she sniffed and tried to straighten herself up, taming her hair and attempted to stop crying – and failing.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” She shook her head, “He never showed up at the altar.”

“I’ll save you…” his thumb brushed across her cheek removing a tear which had begun to roll down the well-worn path of many others, “I will make you forget him.”

“I don’t know.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly on the fingers of her left hand where her engagement ring used to be, “Trust me.” His eyes never left hers as his soft, deep voice reached her ears, “I’ll be good to you.”

It all happened in a blur of skin, sex and the quick removal of that purple kinky costume he wore as they staggered across the room onto her bed. 

Her skin tingled – feeling as though it sizzled – every time he touched her…

…kissed her…

…worshiped her…

…totally enjoyed her… He made sure she was pleasured in every which way and wanted more and more from him as the night wore on, the moon travelled across the evening sky and the two of them didn’t leave the bed as they worshiped each other.

With her Lying in his arms he heard the door unlock in the next room and opened his eyes.  It was sunrise.  From the smell of it, the fiancé had returned to either try to make amends or to pick up his shit.

“Do you want me to stay or leave?” he whispered.

She rolled over, “Best if you leave.”

“Okay.” He held her gaze for a few moments, kissed her softly, longingly, then, faster than her eyes could follow, dressed and flew out into the dawning day.

As he did, he heard yet another cry for help from further afield.  Sighing, he realised his work will never be done.

Finishing up the last few brush strokes on the fourth large canvas, Mark stepped back from his piece in his studio and looked at it.  This was a first… a comic strip of sorts… it covered four large pieces and it looked a bit like a sexy, kinky Superman who helped women who needed him.

“Jolly good.” He laughed at the weirdness in his work, then looked at his coffee cup and decided it was time for another cuppa.  Frida, his lovely little Staffy-cross wandered through the door of the studio, looking at him, “Hey, Frida, come here.” He wiped his hands on his pants as the dog walked in and sat on his feet for a pat, contented and happy, “These are just fun aren’t they?”

He sat outside later that night after dinner, thinking over his work he’d done that day.  How funny that comic strip painting had come to him – how easily it had come to him.  He started to laugh at an idea he was having… if it was turned into a comic strip of sorts… a purple-clad, sexy Superman who saved women who were in dire need of rebound sex?  He burst out laughing!  Now that’d be hilarious!

But would it take off…

In more ways than one?