She Is The One

This week it's X meets Y - again.  Chuck has us picking from two lists and we're in for fun and games... something I love about this is that we've done this before.  

This time, I picked out Paranormal Activity and The Matrix.

Enjoy!

She’s not sure if it was the fact the place hadn’t been rented out for months on end, or that the owners were on the verge of going crazy and being broke due to the weird stories their previous tenants spun about the place scaring the crap out of them.  But she knew for sure she had found a place to call home the moment she walked through the door. It was a lovely, warm, charming place. The colours were just right. The feel was perfect. She just knew she’d fit in well here in this place.

And she’d be perfect company for that snide-looking person on the stairs who was giving her a foul look.

“What are you looking at?” Brett, her real estate agent, asked.

She blinked and the person vanished as she turned and smiled at him, “Oh, nothing, I just wondered what the rooms upstairs looked liked.”

He grinned, “Sure! We’ll start there!” he led the way, moving in front of her, up the stairs. However, on the forth step, he stopped short and shuddered, moving slightly to the left and then proceeded slowly onward. Turning at the top of the stairs, she noticed sweat pouring off him.

“You okay?”

Pulling out his handkerchief, he nodded, “Yeah, I forgot about – um – my blood pressure pills this morning.”

Glancing down the stairs, she saw the person again. They had turned around and had a mischievous on their face, “I have a feeling that wasn’t your blood pressure playing up.”

He looked at his leg, “My leg is cold… I’ve been to my doctors, and they say it’s my blood pressure.”

Before long, Lydia had moved in and found the place was starting to look good.  The back yard had begun to look nice as she attacked it with vigor – turning the weeds into a lush lawn – and then she found she had a few things that began to bother her a little.

But then, she did know she had a spiritual resident… she just hoped they didn’t mind little old her living with them.

Lydia wasn’t going to hurt them.

She just hoped they could live in the same place together.

By the time Lydia was locked out of her house twice for no reason, she knew something was up. Fortunately she always carried a spare key on her at all times in case she did get locked out of any place she did live in by accident (it saved money on calling a locksmith; time on calling in on the real estate agent).

Well, Lydia let herself in as a vortex of wind was going through the place. As she slammed the door, it stopped. All the papers, glassware, her vinlys, dvds and other bits hung in the air for a moment before she raised her hands, “Gently now, go back home.” Lowering her hands, every piece was either placed back on shelves and into the china cabinets and stored away properly, or placed into their respective collections. The newspaper folded itself back up and slotted itself next to the television; ready to be tossed out with the recycling.

Looking around, Lydia could feel this spirit’s anger rising as the window panes shook – threatening to shatter – and the screen doors bashed and slammed open and shut as a temper tantrum raged within their tortured soul, “Okay, are you finished? Because I’m sure if we sit down and talk this out, we can live together in this place… I’ve done it before.”

The young woman fickered into view in front of Lydia; her face filled with rage, with an unspoken need to harm her. Lunging towards her, she raised her hands to throw the young blonde against the wall behind her with enough force to kill her.

Lydia felt her force move toward her and raised her hands up just as it reached her, protecting herself, as it visibly bounced off the shield she had put up, “I see I have to be a bitch about this.” She didn’t know what Lydia meant, and hesitated as she stepped toward her, “Do not fear me child, for I am the one you have been avoiding.” She felt her powers well within her as she raised her right hand.

As her ring began to glow white hot on her finger…

…as she realised she was The One…

“Relax, I will take away your fears.  I will take away your worries and you have a choice to make.” Lydia recited from the script she knew too well, “You can stay here and be peaceful, not worrying anyone. Or you can come with me and I can show you the way across The Valley of Death.”

It was now Lydia heard her voice.  She was a young woman trapped within an old soul, “No! Please don’t make me stay!”

“As you wish.” The room filled with a brilliant white light as she closed her eyes against it for a moment. As it dulled and her living room turned back into what it was before. Sighing, she picked up her mobile, dialed the number for her real estate agent, “Brett, it’s Lydia from that place you got the heebies from – you told me it was haunted and nobody will live here, remember?”

“Oh, yeah… how are you sleeping at night?” he laughed.

“Better now I got rid of the ghost.”

He paused, “You’re kidding… there was a real haunting?”

“Yeah… she was terrified, but we had a chat and she left.”

“Um… left?”

“Yeah.” she sat slowly into my lounge, “But she was a real bitch man… I had to be rough with her.  She was really destructive… fortunately, I put her in her place and showed her who the boss was before she left.”

“What can I say?” his voice sounded hesitant, “Thank you?”

Brett hung up his phone at the real estate agents and sat back in his chair.  He looked at his lunch from Young Chinese Takeaway Restaurant next door, and just didn’t feel like eating it anymore; instead, he stared at his computer and wondered if what he had done was right – setting up Lydia in a place deemed impossible to rent due to its history.

“Hey, Brett, you okay?” Ronda’s cut into his deep thought.

“Yeah… that Lydia Wilson chick just got back to me.” He said, “You know the one you recommended for the haunted place out on Renwick Avenue.”

“Oh yeah, how’d she go?” she asked pulling her chair around and grabbing his uneaten lunch, “May I?”

“Yeah, go for it – my lunch is your lunch.” He dragged it over to her side of his desk, “Well, she got rid of the spiritual problem in that place.”

She paused between bits of spring rolls, “Well, I did say she was the one to get it done, right?”

Rubbing his fingertips over his forehead, he groaned, “Yeah, I thought you were kidding.”

“No… she’s the One… you know… The One.”

“For one for what?” he asked.

“For everything.” She smiled, “She can control everything… like Luke Skywalker in ‘Star Wars’… well, she’s The One like in ‘The Matrix’.” Ronda took a mouthful of food and thought about what she said, swallowed and rephrased, “Not exactly like those movies; but she’s one gifted bitch.”

Lydia’s eyes snapped open.

Somebody was in the house.

She didn’t need to turn on a single light to know where they had gotten into, where they were now and what they were after.

All she had to do was wait and they’d move upstairs to where she knew they’d look for it.

What is it?

Well, the ring of course.

Looking to her bedside table, she could hear it calling to her from the top drawer, so she pulled it open and put it on as she heard them come up the stairs.

The air filled with aftershave and sweat…

“Hello Brett.”

The person stopped moving, “How do you know it was me?”

“I’m gifted in more ways than one.” She said getting out of her bed and grabbing her dressing gown from the glory box at the end of the bed without stumbling in the dark, “That’s the thing about having a gift like mine… you know too damned much.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like… you’re not going to get to your gun fast enough and you’re not going to kill me for my power.” She smiled in the dark.

His hesitance told her she was right that he came armed, “Well, if I had your power, I’d be able to get rid of the other ghosts from other houses we’re trying to rent and sell.”

“Killing me will do nothing but send you to prison.” She said looking at his tall, dark form in the doorway. Then, she saw something she hadn’t seen often in life: a number glowing on his forehead, “Oh dammit.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She said walking toward him, “You will feel nothing as you walk through the Valley. Do no fear me, child, for I am the one to walk you through to the other side.” She raised her hand and touched his forehead with her fingertips gently.

As his body collapsed to the floor, she heard a voice behind her, “What the fuckin’ hell is going on here!”

Turning, she quickly grabbed his arm, “You died, Brett. You had a number on your forehead that only I could see because I am The One. I can’t change that and I had to take you. It’s my job.”

Wrestling to pull from her grip, tears blurred his vision as he looked down and saw her ring, “Oh my God… you’re the Horseman… you’re the One.”

She had heard this before hundreds – millions – of times; and she felt nothing when she did, “Brett it’s time to go. I must lead you to your guide through the Valley of Death.” As she touched his arm, he disappeared from sight and his anguish, sorrow, sadness and fear went with him.

She hated being The One. 

Remembering My Death

Chuck had us working on first sentences last week.  This week, we have to work on another person's first sentence and turn it into a 2,000 word story.  I picked out Ashlee Jayde's first sentence. 

Enjoy!


There was something not quite right about the headstone.  I stood there in the boneyard looking at it as the hearse drove away, as night drew near, as the cold closed its arms around me.

I still couldn’t see what was wrong with it.

So I went home.

But where was home?  I stopped walking at the gates of the cemetery and tried to remember where I lived, but failed to get my head around exactly where that was.

“You can’t remember where you live, can ya?” a voice said behind me.

My eyes snapped open and I turned at the sound to take in an old man in a suit, “Sure I can.” I lied.

“Bullshit.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I saw you at the grave site.” He said walking up to me, “And you’re trying to figure out something; something you haven’t gotten your head around yet.”

I looked at him, noticing he had a slight Southern accent.  It was nice, kind of comforting.  I shook my head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m Jet.” He stuck his hand out and I noticed a large Class Ring on his right hand.  This was an old-fashioned thing to have in his day, so I knew I was dealing with somebody who had been here for a long time, “Short for Jethro.”

“Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand, finding he took my fingers gently and kissed my hand; another older custom I’d known of, “I’m…”

“Angelina.” He smiled, “We have been expecting you for some time.”

“We?”

“Yes.” His smile was constant, friendly and comforting; like his accent.

“Who is ‘we’?”

He turned and glanced behind him, “The rest of the stiffs, that’s who we are.” He waited to see if I got his meaning, his drift, what he was talking about.

But I didn’t.

It was impossible.

I couldn’t be!

He saw it happen… the penny actually dropped in my head.

“I’m dead?” I asked.

He nodded, “Yes.  Now, you have to accept your fate and let go of the living world.”

“What happens if I don’t?”

Jethro dropped his eyes and his smile faded from his face, “You end up like us.  You end up stuck here at the boneyard.”

“But that’s not so bad, is it?”

He looked back at me, “What?  Are you kidding?  I thought it would be great to stay here, to see my family come and join me… but it’s not. It’s horrendous.  A lot of them accepted their fate well before coming here. So, you have to ask yourself:  what is keeping you here?” he stepped forward and took my shoulder, “And then, you have to ask yourself: is it worth it?”

I looked into his desperate eyes and realised I really had some thinking to do; serious thinking, “Okay. But I’d like to go back to my house, my family to see them for a little bit before I leave.”

“You need a guide to do that so you don’t interfere with any of them.” He said, “In particular, you need your own personal guide.”

“Well, I never saw anyone on the day I died… so who would that be?” I said.

Raising his eyebrows, Jethro looked down his nose at me, “Well, we’re in a right pickle, aren’t we?  It looks like you are in the need of serious assistance.  Come with me.”

We walked to a tall headstone where there was an Angel carved from marble posed, praying into a book.  He looked up at it, pulled out a fob-watch and then waited for a moment, closed his watch and put it away, “Come on, I know you’re just reading.”

Her eyes moved from the book as her mouth dipped down at the edges, impatience drew its lines on her face, “Jethro.” Her voice was a hymn I had heard in church as a child, “What do you need now?” she looked over at me and her mouth dropped as she lowered her book, “Oh, child, you never received a guide?”

I looked down at myself, “How did you know?”

Climbing down from her headstone, she placed her book on top of where she had sat and walked to me, “I can see it within you.  Your death happened so fast, there was no guide available to be by your side to walk you through the Valley of Death.”

My gut cooled at the thought that my death had occurred so quick, “My death… exactly how had that occurred?”

Jethro looked from me to the Angel, “You don’t remember?”

“No, this is why I want to go home.”

The Angel looked at him, “She tried to leave the cemetery?”

“Yes.  I found her at her own grave site staring at her headstone, not knowing whose name it was on there.” He shook his head, “I followed her to the gates and then brought her here to you.”

“I see.” She whispered, “Your soul needs to go to Heaven, Angelina.  You do not belong here on Earth, and you do not belong in Hell.”

“So, who are you?”

“I’m an Earth Angel who was summoned to look after this cemetery.  It’s not a boring job, but I do come across souls like your own who need a helping hand once in a while.” She smiled, and her kindly face brought my panicking mind to peace immediately, “I will help you Angelina.  And thank you Jethro for helping her; I will put in a good word for you to see if they will let you in where you belong.”

He removed his hat, smiling bashfully, “Oh, thank you so much.”

The next place we found ourselves was a very sterile-looking waiting room.  The Angel hadn’t changed form much, only that it had turned into grey fabric, so she was more of life form than anything else.  She told me to take a seat while she tended to the lady at the desk.

“What do you mean there wasn’t enough time?” her voice sounded tense as I took a seat next to an old man in a hospital gown.

He leaned over and whispered, “How did you die?”

“I don’t know.” I said.

“Neither do I.” he said, “But I’ve been waiting here for ages.”

“That’s not very encouraging.”

The Angel turned looking at me.  She couldn’t hide the disappointment on her face of how much she hated doing this.  Then she turned back, “Listen, this room wouldn’t be here if you people did your jobs right.”

“Hey, you’re only an Earth Angel, and your only job is to look after that cemetery, okay?” the lady at the desk snapped.

“I wouldn’t have to bring some of the souls here and fight for their rights if you sent their guides at the right times.  And you watch your mouth, I still have the powers to smite you, then they’ll have to replace you!”

The woman looked at her smiling, “Yes, with you.”

“Just fix this.  Jethro has been waiting for over a century to enter Heaven, and he’s done right by every soul in that cemetery; especially this one.”

The buzzer on the counter turned red and the lady at the desk turned it off, gave her a smart-ass look, “You can go in now.”

I rose and followed the Earth Angel into the next room, a cramped office with a desk just inside the door and filing cabinets lining the rest of the room.  There was just enough room for us to stand and tiny path to get around the desk to where a little man dressed in a cheap suit sat in an old, cracked, leather high-backed chair. Looking up, he knew exactly who I was, “Ahh, Angelina Stirling… where have you been?”

I looked up at the Earth Angel, “You tell me, one minute I’m at home and watching television, laughing at a comedy show… the next I’m staring at my own grave site.”

His face dropped, “You mean to say, you don’t remember anything from your death?  Your guide didn’t tell you anything?”

The Earth Angel leaned on the desk.  It creaked under her weight, “Angelina didn’t get a guide.  She had no idea what happened to her, so nobody to walk her through the Valley.”

The little man looked up at the Angel, “Okay, then, it looks like you died so quickly that a guide couldn’t get to you fast enough.”

“So, what’s going to happen? How long has it been?” I looked around for place to sit down but there wasn’t any chair, so I leaned on his desk, shoving a pile of paper in his direction to make room.

He spotted me doing that and paused, “You know, I could get you a guide right now.  It’s only been a few weeks… and you really do need help.”

“What about Jethro?” the Earth Angel asked.

“No.” he said.

“Why not?” I asked.

He looked at me, “You don’t know who he was in life, Angelina, so no.” he turned to the Angel, “And you damned Angels always see just the good in people… never ever the bad.  You’re so naive.” He opened a large book and thumbed through the pages until he came to the back of the book, read the last few paragraphs and looked up, “You really don’t remember the last week of your life, do you?”

“No. I don’t, how many times I do have to say this?” this was really getting on my nerves.

The little man paused as he frowned, “And Jethro didn’t just show up by chance, Angelina.  He wanted to see you for a reason.  Go back and find out why, and your guide will show up.”

We showed up at the cemetery as the blooms of Spring were about to burst open.  The Earth Angel looked around, “We’ve been gone longer than I thought.”

“So, how did it go?” Jethro’s voice called from another headstone.

“Well, you better tell me.” I said, “And this time, tell me the truth of why you approached me.  Because they’re not letting you anywhere near Heaven, no matter how good you are here.”

His face dropped as the Earth Angel watched him carefully, “And Jethro, you better tell us both what is going on.  You’re the one blocking Angelina’s guide from her.”

“Okay!” he snapped, “I’m here to see you because I was an old gunslinger from the Wild West… not very well-known, but I did kill twenty-five people, held up three coaches and robbed four saloons and six banks in my life.  And I was killed by a sheriff of California while I was on the last bank robbery; he knew who I was and planned the whole thing just to corner me.” He shook his head, “I’m stuck here for my crimes; Heaven won’t take me.  Lucifer was one of the bank managers I robbed, so he won’t accept me either.” He blushed a little, “But I was a man who got around with the ladies, and so I had a few children out there.”

“Man, I don’t want to know your sex life.” I groaned.

“This has to do with you.” He said, “My Great-great-great-grandson shot you in bank hold-up in California.  He fell into the same damned trap I did – it was heist put on by the sheriff of the state, who was the Great-great-great-grandson of the man who caught me.” He leaned against the neighbouring headstone, “Now you know, I’ll let your guide through.”

From down the path walked a young lady.  She looked at the old man, “Jethro, you again.” She snapped, “I told you to stop doing this to people.”

“What?”

“Stop hiding their guides.” She said, “It’s confusing for them.”

He looked at me as the Earth Angel climbed back onto her headstone, picked up her book and started reading again.  Before she turned back into marble, she whispered, “You wouldn’t think those two were related, would you?”

I looked between them, “How?”

Jethro sulked, “We were married.”

The Witching Hour

This week Chuck got us to check out each other's images we have to upload and write a story about an image we have picked out... I've chosen the Standing Stones.  

The Standing Stones

Enjoy.

Thunder cracked overhead.

It was time.

Erica watched as the moon moved overhead. 

The dagger poised above the struggling white rabbit as the eclipse was almost done, the moon was almost blood red, time of opening the pathway home was to happen.

But would somebody here stop her before she could finish the ritual, or would she be able to do it right?

Lightning flashed across the low, dark clouds; illuminating the open fields surrounding her as rain poured from above.  This was time, the right time, for this to happen!

Erica plunge the dagger into the chest of the rabbit, feeling its pungent fear fill the air as her arm came down, as its blood first oozed over the blade, then ran more freely as the tip struck the stone she was holding it onto. 

Tears filled her eyes as she felt and saw its life slip away, knowing she had killed something she wished she didn’t have to, ‘Oh, dammit, you big sook, let’s just get on with it.’ She muttered as she bent over the rabbit, opening the tiny carcass up and cutting out its heart for what she needed to do.

The massive dark stones stood nearby, blackened and slick by the rain now pelting down from the skies around them.  This made them terrifying.  But 1650 was no time for Erica to be in – especially seeing she was a practicing Witch back home in the Twenty-First Century; the witch hunts were just beginning around this part of the country and if she was caught, she’d be burned at the stake, or worse, and never get back to her own time.

Besides, the Wise Woman had told her about these Standing Stones and given her directions to them – even walked her to this very spot two weeks ago – and told her about the ritual she had to perform to get back home.  So, here she was, doing this very thing…

…praying to the Gods above that she wasn’t going to get caught…

…hoping that this worked…

…wishing she didn’t have to kill an animal to get back home…

The clouds cleared for a moment and she found the moon was completely red.

It was time to use the animal heart!

She knelt right by the stones with the heart in one hand and the bloodied dagger in the other.  As the rain poured down, she quoted the Latin the Wise Woman had been teaching her for months and drew the pattern in the mud hoping this would work.

Then, she heard it… a rumbling beneath her… behind her…

‘No… it can’t be.’ She turned from her spot with the dagger still poised and the tiny heart in her hand to find the hilltop behind her lined with torchlight.  Lightning flashed and it lit up the township of people who lived over the hill, ‘Oh crap… they’re gonna kill me.’ She turned back to her ritual and started to speak faster, draw faster.  As Erica did, something amazing happened!

The drawings in the mud began to show silver and glisten in the darkness.  When she spoke faster, it showed the diagram she was drawing, until she no longer needed to draw it; instead holding the dagger up to the heavens with the tiny heart as it began to beat on its own.

This was what the Wise Woman said would happen!

Erica smiled as tears of happiness blurred her vision and she felt positive that she was going home!

At long last, she was going to be able to watch television, listen to modern music on the radio and watch YouTube!  Yes!  This was starting to sound like a wonderful reality!

In the next flash of lightning, she heard the people from the township screaming, thundering down the hillside. 

Fear tightened in her gut as she looked up to find the doorway between the massive black stone light up, and she saw daylight!

Rising from her knees, she stepped over the diagram, kept a hold of the rabbit’s heart and dagger and walked through the brightly-lit doorway.

As soon as she was through, she felt the sun on her face, the warm breezes of a nice Spring day and she looked at her hands where she still held the heart and dagger. 

Turning, she sliced the heart into four, chanting a closing mantra, stabbing the dagger right in the middle of the doorway.  Then took two pieces of the heart in both hands and smeared them into the rockfaces as hard as she could from top to bottom.  As she did, a brilliant flash emitted from the doorway and the storm that had been occurring in between those stones before was now gone.

Erica sat on the ground soaked to the skin, her hands and arms covered in blood looking at the dagger.  She had to leave that there.  So, with all her strength, she shoved it into the ground up to the hilt… hoping it would stay there.

Turning, she looked around.  The hillside was exactly as it had been hundreds of years ago… so had she been sent home?  Looking over the valley, she rubbed her hands on her long dirty dress, wondering if it had all been a bad dream… wondering…

‘Erica?’ a familiar male voice called out behind her.

She turned to find her boyfriend running up to her from the hilltop, ‘James?’

He pulled out an iPhone, ‘Hey, yeah, I found her… she’s covered in mud and muck, and drenched as though she’s been in a storm, but she’s here!  We need the trucks… we’re at the Standing Stones, dude.’

‘What year is it?’

‘Why?’

‘I just came from 1650.’

He took a few steps back, ‘Well, we’ll have to get you checked out then.  And the year is 2015.’

‘Are we together?’

‘Of course… why?’

‘When I left, you were mad at me.’

‘About what?’

Looking back at the stones, Erica wondered what the hell happened to change their relationship, ‘In what way are we together?’

‘We’re married.’ He looked at her hands, ‘And who’s blood is that?’

‘I had to kill a rabbit to get here.’

He turned away, ‘Dude, we have a witch… it’s burnin’ time.’

Double-Crossed

Chuck has asked us to write something filthy, dirty and downright disgusting... well, I've done that in all kinds of ways - I hope.  I know for one thing:  I didn't hold back on this one.  I normally do a little.

Enjoy.

Damian had set up the cameras around the room, as asked by Frederick while his flatmate was out on his date with Cindy.  He had to make sure these cameras weren’t able to be seen by anyone; but Frederick told him where to set them up, so he could pick them out when he wanted to.

Damian hated this idea.

He liked Cindy.

She was cool, innocent in just the right ways and very pretty.

This got her all the wrong attention from the wrong guys.

Sighing he picked up his tablet and lined up the signal to all of them, so they’d switch on at the same time and left the flat leaving on a few lamps around the living room to give off the right light for adjustment.  He went to the flat three doors down – an empty one – to do the recording to stay out of the way for the night. 

A few hours passed and he had ordered pizza, had gone out and bought a six pack or so of beer and Frederick came home on the fourth beer.  He put down his beer, wiped his hands on the legs of his jeans and put on his headphones as the show began:

‘Isn’t Damian home?’ Cindy’s slight form walked into view from across the room on the living room camera.

“Damn she’s gorgeous.” Damian whispered to himself, “Why didn’t I ask her out?”

‘Nah, he’s out for the night.’ Frederick’s voice warbled a little.  Damian quickly fixed that with a few taps of the keyboard.  The next camera switched on and the kitchen one brought them up a lot closer, ‘Wanna a coffee?’

“She drinks tea you moron.” Damian said.

‘I’ll have a tea.’ She said walking to the lounge where the camera above the tv on the bookcase switched on. It was hidden between a couple of books and not easily noticed. Cindy sat down, putting her bag on the floor, ‘That was a great meal.’

‘Yeah, I never knew there was an African restaurant here in our small town.’ Frederick remarked finishing in the kitchen. He brought over the two mugs – one of tea, one of coffee – into the living room and joined Cindy on the lounge.  After sitting beside her, Frederick almost had no clue what to do with her… it was as though Damian was going to have to phone him and walk him through how to make a move on her; but then, he look at her and smiled, the edge of his hand touching hers.

You could almost feel the electricity in the air snap between them.

Damian’s heart dropped. 

Cindy liked Frederick.  This is how it always went with women; they liked his friend more than they liked him.  Damian was nice, but Frederick was the charmer; even though he was the dickhead.

He kept a watch on the two in the darkness of the empty flat as they started making out, taking each other’s clothes off, nuzzling, kissing, fumbling… enjoying and…

Damian watched on as Frederick peeled her clothes off piece by piece and had Cindy on the lounge.  Her eyes closed, back arched, arms around his flatmate… when that should have been him doing that to her.  Then, as though this was a porno film, he watched on as they became more and more sweaty and her cries of pleasure filled the air, filled his ears… making him sweaty, making him hard, making him want her so much that he hated himself for doing what he was doing now.

But for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from watching it, pulling on his pants as his hard-on made everything uncomfortable in every way, becoming sensitive as hell as he tried not to touch himself… and yet couldn’t help himself as he watched.

“This is disgusting…” he muttered knowing if he gave in to playing with himself now, it would mean he’d be the pervert.  Damian tried to ignore his dick and concentrated on … other things, but couldn't. As the two on the screen got busy, he unzipped his jeans, shoved his hand down his pants and jerked off in time with her cries.
He sat back as he felt a sweat break out all over his body.  He shuddered and he climaxed everywhere. Damn, what a mess.  Damian stood awkwardly, and walked off to find something to clean up his mess, ashamed he had let himself get so much pleasure out of something he shouldn't have. 

By the time he looked back at the screen, the two were gone.  He flipped from camera to camera and couldn’t see them anywhere around the living room, kitchen or hall of the flat.  He wondered where they had disappeared to, until Frederick walked into view wearing a towel around his waist.

They had showered together.

She came out soon after with wet hair and grabbed her clothes to get dress, but Frederick was ready to go again.

“Oh, jeez, not again…” Damian sighed taking the headphones off and closing the laptop, getting up from the table.  He pulled at the crotch of his pants again, “I can’t do this.”

He spotted her in the huge library at the university looking very tired.  Cindy was trying to concentrate on her studies when Damian walked to her side, “Hi.”

She looked up and he could see the dark rings under her eyes, “Hey, Damian. How was your weekend?”

He nodded, “Good… you look stuffed… you okay?”

Yawning, she offered him a seat next to her, “I didn’t sleep very well over the weekend.”

“Neither did Frederick.” He said.

“He and I went out… but…” she hesitated, “I… oh I can’t tell you, you’re his friend.”

He looked at her, “Did he hurt you?”

“No… just… I went out to dinner with him and, I think he put something in my tea.” She said looking at her notes blankly, “I woke up in your flat but have no idea how I got there.”

“Oh… I have to tell you something about the weekend.” He said, “You might hate me for it, but I can’t tell you here.”

Cindy pulled the headphones off as she closed the laptop quickly, “I can’t believe you did that!”

He looked to his hands, “Neither can I.”

“Did you watch?”

“A little… but I stopped… I didn’t want to do this.  And I don’t like what he does to girls.” He said, “Did you notice that you never went into his room?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a reason for that.” Damian said, “And I can show you.” He put out his hand hoping she’d take it, hoping she wouldn’t think he’d be a shit, and he was grateful when she took it, “You have to trust me when I tell you that I never wanted to do any of this to you.”

“Okay.”

They arrived at Damian’s flat and heard noises through the door of Frederick with another girl.  So, instead of going inside, he motioned her down the hall to the empty flat where he was situated, let himself in, turned on the lights and walked to the table.

Closing the door, Cindy checked her phone where she had missed a call from Frederick.  Her thumb brushed the screen as she watched Damian turn on his tablet and have a look at what the cameras were recording.  Sure enough, he had another girl on the lounge in much the same way as he had screwed Cindy, “Oh my god.  He’s just gone onto the next chick.”

“Yeah.” He said turning it off and sitting down, “I’m really sorry.  This should never have happened to you.”

“You truly feel terrible, don’t you?” she touched his hand.

“It’s because I … oh, shit… I really like you, and Frederick just took you away from me.” Damian looked at her hand as he turned his hand around, rubbing her fingers with his thumb, “I really want to be with you Cindy.”

She covered their hands with her left hand, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He shrugged, “Dunno.”

Frederick was sitting on the lounge, watching the goings-on between Cindy and Damian on his laptop.  Bette was making coffee for them both as he smiled at the result of his set-up.

“Did it work?” she asked.

“Yep… they’re talking – at long fucking last!” he said, “I’ve been trying to get him to talk to her for so long.”

She placed the coffee mug next to his laptop on the coffee table, as he drew the long usb cord and plugged it into the large flat-screen television, “Now, to watch the fun and games before putting it all onto YouTube.”

“Hey he didn’t do that to you.”

Sipping from his cup, he smirked, “No, but he’s gutless.”

Bette put her mug down, “And you’re just a dick.” She grabbed her things and turned to leave when she heard a click at the door and looked over her shoulder.

Frederick had pulled a gun from somewhere, “You try to leave, and I’ll kill you.”

“Still think you’re a dick.” She put down her bags and rejoined him on the lounge.

Damian and Cindy sat at the table smiling and talking.  He looked over all the equipment sitting around he had brought with him and sighed, “I know you think this is creepy.  But if I was Frederick, I would make something up with another chick… another film… run it on a loop, make it look like something it’s not and double cross me.”

Doubt fleeted across Cindy’s face, “Really?”

“Yeah… really.” He stood, holding her close, whispering in her ear, “Don’t say anything, just pack up, and we’ll go out somewhere.”

She looked into his eyes, smiling, knowing that ‘somewhere’ meant that they were going to bust Frederick at his own game.  She liked where this was going, Damian was exciting… more exciting than Frederick had told her he was.

They sat outside the building in his car as the police busted into Frederick’s flat.  He had worked on pornographic website to make it loop around and hooked it into the cameras in the flat a few doors down from where he lived the night Frederick had him working on the cameras in their place. 

It had taken him all night, but he did it.

Damian had also packed his car with his belongings as well, so the police only caught Frederick, and not a thing on him. 

The police found Frederick with the laptop hooked up to the television, with the film he had ‘taped’ from a few flats down uploading to YouTube while he was sitting on his lounge naked with a chick (who turned out to be a prostitute who was working for Damian and so she spilled the beans immediately to the cops).   The cops let her go, charged Frederick and searched the flat saying they had been tipped off by Damian.

“That little fuck!  He’s so gutless!  He’s so shy!” Frederick screamed.

One of the cops turned to him, “If he’s so gutless and shy, how did he get one over on you so big you didn’t even know it was happening under your nose?”

Haunted

She first woke me at 2am.  I had just moved in the week before and she wasn’t happy with me living here – in her home – as I was yet another intruder she felt she had to get rid of.  However, to her, this was going to be another routine thing to do.

“What the hell!” I sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp, turned back but she was gone, “Who the hell was that?”

I didn’t sleep again that night – well not much anyway.  

I had to figure out who was living in my home with me.

The Perverted Leprechaun

Chuck has us chuggin' drinks and cocktails this time.  He put up a link to a site which has recipes to these great drinks - 10 to a page - and I found this fine little ditty.  Enjoy.

I’m in prison because of him.

My hatred for that little man is beyond anything I can say, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him; that is if he stood still long enough!  And to think, I trusted myself to be lined up with him through a dating service – a reputable one too!

I’ll start at the beginning – a good place to start.

Fergus was his name.  I knew it was Irish – I mean, just listen to it roll off your tongue!  By the sound of his voice on the phone I kinda knew he was short, but then he told me how tall he was and it confirmed it:  I was going on a date with a little person (no not a midget – that’s not politically correct; and besides, it’s impolite to call them that now). 

Besides, I wasn’t going to turn him down all because of his height.  He was charming, sweet and made me laugh.  And isn’t that part of the experience of dating, that spark?

Well, from the moment we met, I knew something was up with him.  One moment he wasn’t there and the next, he was sitting at the table in the middle of a story I hadn’t heard the beginning of. 

I thought I had zoned out at some point.  But I hadn’t.

I thought something had happened and he popped something in my drink, but he hadn’t – well, not to my knowledge.

Then, Fergus would laugh and touch my hand and I’d laugh too.  It was as though I was charmed by him, as though his touch was something of hypnotism and I couldn’t help myself.

Now I think of it, I don’t actually remember accepting our first date.  I just remember showing up to the café and sitting down at the table.  I checked my phone and its calendar and – sure enough – our date was written in there. 

I just wish I knew how that came to be – how I came to be here in prison so quick.

I hadn’t known him a week and I landed here with charges that nobody wants on their records: murder.

The problem was that nobody believed it wasn’t me; not even my lawyer.  He just gave me a pitiful look and that pinched expression which told me that he’d do what he could… sure… bullshit.

The truth was that Fergus was gone the moment the trigger was pulled and my ex-husband hit the floor of his house.

How we got to be there was a complete mystery to me too; and perverted in every way:  we broke in while Tim was having a shower.  Uh, yeah, that really sounds like that’ll hold up in court that we were invited in… but Fergus told me to tell the cops that.

Which – for some reason – I did while they were cuffing me and telling me my rights, which were to shut up and wait until I got a lawyer.  Of course I didn’t… I kept on blathering on that I was invited in and Fergus was there.

Well, he was… he stood over there in the corner keeping his mouth shut the whole time they were walking around me taking in evidence that I was the one who cooked up this whole thing and killed my ex-husband on my own.

My lawyer sat there while I was handcuffed to the table watching me carefully.  Fergus sat by my side urging me to go on and answer the man… but when I looked back at the lawyer he asked me the dumbest question: “What are you looking at over there?”

I glanced back to Fergus and he was gone!

It was then I realised something was dreadfully wrong and I turned to him, “Okay, I have been on a dating service and Fergus and I were lined up to date.  Look in my handbag and you’ll find a business card for the place.”

The guy wrote it down nodding, “Okay, dating service.”

I told him all about our first date and how everything seemed strange, right up until all this stuff about my ex-husband happened, “Please look into it.”

You know something?  Nothing ever came of the business card. 

I never heard from my lawyer again.  Actually I was given a new one.

I wondered what happened to my last one.

So, this brings me to here… sitting in my prison cell. 

Fergus is gone.  I haven’t seen that little perverted shit anywhere since the lawyer and I talked last.  Looking at my hands, I wonder how long it’ll take until they find out what’s going on.  I hear another inmate being brought in. 

She keeps on talking: “It’s not my fault… it’s the leprechaun… his name is Fergus!  I’m telling you, he disappeared when you guys arrested me.  Please… he was the one who shot my ex-boyfriend.”

“Listen, we’ve heard it all before, a dozen times from you crazy broads.” The screw snapped as he shoved her into the cell with me, “It’s not going to float.”

As the door slammed shut, she cried out through the small window, “He’s left me here to rot! He’s a perverted little shit!”

Looking up at her as she crumbled to the floor, I realise something and smile, “So, you know Fergus too?  What did that perverted leprechaun do to you?” 

The Abstraction of Heaven and Earth

Chuck's prompt was late this time around.  However, not a disappointment.  He gave us a list of sentences and asked us to pick on and put it into a flash fiction of 1,000 words then post it... my sentence is: 'Abstraction is often one floor above you'.

I couldn’t believe it. 

I had made it here without detection.

Heaven that is…

I had made it beyond those famous gates, through the quad into the famous time-keeper’s rooms without anyone knowing I was here.

Okay.  I’ll tell you why I’m so stunned.  I’m not dead.  I haven’t left the mortal coil.  I’m still connected to Earth – and they know it! – and I’m here to search out somebody.

The clock ticked to my left.  And there was a huge, empty, cavernous hall with a massive pipe organ to my right.  It was immense to see this hall, absolutely stunning architecture – I loved it!  This place reminded me of the York Minster, but with no pews and less people.

My feet are cold.

Looking down, I find my shoes had been removed and I can’t find my Doc Martens.  It’s raining outside – storming in fact.  It’s amazing to see it rain in Heaven… it’s nothing like it is on Earth.  Golden sunshine glimmers through the glittering rain outside as it taps gently against the glass of the tiny room I’m standing in.

The clock has stopped ticking.

Its long trendles, beaded with diamonds and sapphires and opals stilled.  Its hands have stopped at 12:15.  I’m not sure if it’s day or night… but something doesn’t seem right as I approach the clock in its glass case.

I shouldn’t be here.  I know this now.  I know what I wanted to know where my friend was… but I don’t think this was the place to come to find out.

“You know, Bethany, you most certainly are in the wrong place.” His voice whispered at my shoulder, “Well, you’re not needed here yet.”

I turned and saw him, in his robes, knowing it was something of a dream, “I’m sorry.  I just want to know where my friend is.”

“She’s fine.  But she’s not here.” He said, “Helene may be very sick, but she’s fighting to stay home.”

I looked to my feet, “You call this place home.”

A friendly smile grows on his face, “Yes… but I mean Earth.  And you’re in the wrong place.  You’re not supposed to be here.  I don’t know who gave you clearance to be in the Time-Keeper’s Quarters, but I should send you back where you belong now.” He reached out to touch my shoulder.

“Wait!” I stepped back, “My shoes… where are my shoes?”

Looking to my feet, he blinked, “Why they’re on your feet, of course.”

I looked to my feet again, to find them back on and tied up.  How they got to be there without my help was beyond me; but I was happy to have, um, found them.  Shrugging, I looked up at him, “Okay, send me back home.”

I woke up to my alarm.

It was 6am. 

Picking it up, I turned it off and put it down on the bedside table then curled up on my side wondering just what the heck happened.  Was it a dream?  Did that just happen?

Damn, it felt so darned real!

“Abstraction is often one floor above you.” Came a whisper over my shoulder of his voice.

Turning over, I flipped the covers off me and sat up, ready to confront whoever had snuck into my house the night before to watch me sleep… to share my bed without my permission… to… to…

…there was nobody there!

My day went on.  I did my usual things of breakfast, going out and shopping and visiting my folks.  Nothing out of the ordinary happened for most of the day. 

Not until I needed to go to my doctors and get a check up on a few old skin complaints.  I approached the building and looked up the first floor where I saw my friend, who I was so worried about sitting by the window reading a magazine. 

She turned the page, spotted me and disappeared from view as she rose from the chair.

My heart sunk.  She didn’t want me to see her.

Bursting into tears on the footpath, I didn’t know what to do.  I really wanted to see my friend, but if she didn’t want to see me, what could I do?

“Bethany?” Helene’s voice was by my side, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Looking up to her, I sniffed, wiping the heels of my hands over my cheeks, “Helene? I have been looking for you everywhere.”

“I know.  Mum told me.  She told me that she’s been telling you lies to keep me safe.  But she didn’t need to.” Her arm was around me in a minute, “I’m going okay.  I’ve had my liver transplant… now it’s just about getting better.”

“I wish I had known you were better.”

“Who told you to find me here?”

“Nobody, I have an appointment with my skin specialist here.” I said, “We happen to have them in the same building.”

Helene smiled, “Come on, let’s go in.  We can chat until your appointment is done, and we’ll have a cup of coffee or tea afterwards.”

“Oh… that does sound great.” We walked in through the doors and up to the first floor where we both waited in the same waiting room together chatting and catching up with everything over the last two years (yeah, we’re friends who can do that).  Then, the doctor came out, calling my name.

I stood and turned to him, freezing on the spot when I saw his face, “You.”

“Of course me, I’m your doctor.” He smiled that wonderful friendly smile, “Come on, Bethany.”

I followed him to his office and he offered me a chair as he closed the door, “Now, how are you feeling today?”

“It’s you… from, you know…” I pointed up towards the ceiling.

Putting down my file, he clasped his hands on top of it, “Yes it’s me and like I told you…”

“But this isn’t abstraction.”

“You found your friend when you least expected to, didn’t you?”

The first quarter of this piece was written fresh from a weird-ass dream I had this morning.  Right up until the alarm went off at 6am was my dream... verbatim.  It was amazing, brilliant and still very much clear in my mind even now.