The Voice in the Attic

The Voice in the Attic.jpg

You know what I want.

She hesitated for a moment. Looked towards the door to see if anyone was coming. She took off her dress.

Come closer. I want to see you. Feel you.

Invisible hands. Touching her, everywhere. She moaned. Leaned her back against the stone wall, letting herself get carried away.

She felt it stroking her cheek. Her hips. Her tits and her tight ass. All at once. She felt sexy. Hot. Her panties fell. She lifted her bottom up against the stone wall. Something soft stroking her most intimate parts. Penetrating her. Everywhere, deep into her inner being, her very soul. She moaned louder. Pushing against it, following its rhythm. Screaming as she reached climax. She sunk to the ground, exhausted.

Are you OK, honey? Her husband calling from down stairs.

Yes, baby, everything’s fine. She grabbed her dress. I… I just had a little… accident, but I’m fine.

OK, he said. Supper’s almost ready!

As she walked down the stairs she realized her panties were still on the attic floor.

She’d go up and get them later. A smile spread in her face. When her husband was asleep.

https://wordsonsergebenhayon.wordpress.com/2017/05/24/entities/

https://sensualwhispersblog.wordpress.com/2017/08/12/senseless/

Beauty and the Beast

T-birds and Motorcycles

T-birds and Motorcycles

The road lay straight in front of them as far as the eye could see. The rocky desert was vast, and flat except for some scattered hills and small mountains. Sky and earth. It was beautiful.

We camp by the foot of that mountain! Jack shouted to Mario. The rest would follow. They drove off the road, out on the rocky carpet of the desert. They had to go slow, but their bikes would take them there.

They stopped underneath a steep cliff.

Jack looked a the sky. We’ll have shadow here tomorrow morning. We’ll camp here. Mario agreed.

Mario was unofficially second in charge, and a great fire maker. He could find wood for a fire anywhere. Michael got out the cooking pot. , and John started cutting meat and veggies for the stew. They were eight strong men, and quite a bit of food was necessary. Heaps of beer and whiskey, too.

They went to sleep under the stars around the bound fire. Silence. Peace.

Jack woke up. A sound. A scream, like an eagle, but stronger. Deeper.

Mario was already awake, looking out into the desert.

There’s something out there, he said.

I heard it too. What is it?

No answer. The two men sat there, looking out into the darkness.

Something moved in a distance. Something big.

Wake up! The rest of the crew was pulled out of their dreams.

What’s up, man… John was rubbing his eyes.

Another scream. He jumped up.

What the fuck was that?

It came from the other side last time… Jack said. Either it’s very fast or there’s more of them.

Either way it’s bad news. We saw it. Over there. It was big, bigger than a man. A lot bigger. We…

Aaaaahhh!! They turned around, getting their guns out.

What was that?

Michael! He fucking just disappeared! He was right there, behind me! Perky was white as a sheet.

OK, everybody stay calm. Jack was at his best when things got intense. Form a circle, backs to the centre. There’s something out there, and it’s fucking dangerous.

Silence. Waiting. Two gunshots.

It was there! I saw it! It’s huge. It ran behind those rocks! John was pointing with his smoking pistol.

You saw it? What was it?

I don’t know, it’s too dark… It looked like… It looked like a fucking dinosaur, man. A T-Rex or something.

T-Rex? That’s crazy, dinosaurs doesn’t exist.

I don’t know! I’m just telling you what I fucking saw, man!

Aaaaahh!!!

They all spun around. There was nothing there.

Mario? Where the fuck is Mario?

No one said anything.

Mario was gone as well.

Let’s get the hell out of here!

They jumped on their bikes and drove off. Jack was in front. After some hundred meters he realized the lights behind him were gone. He looked over his shoulder. There was no one there. He kept driving. He could see the highway. Just a little bit more…

Something struck him from the side. He was lying on the ground. His back hurt, and so did his arms and legs, but he could move. He got on his feet. A shadow ran past him in the darkness. It ran on two legs, and it was big, double his height.

He turned around. It was staring down at him. It was a bird. A wingless bird bigger than a horse. It’s brutal beak, built to cut meat, to destroy, was bigger than the tank on his bike. And he had a big bike.

He had lost his gun in the fall.

It lifted a foot. Grabbed him by the chest. Claws went into his shoulder and ribs, pushed him down. He didn’t scream, just lied there, looking up on the terror bird. It held it’s head a bit on one side, then on the other. Examining him with both it’s eyes.

The big beak came down fast. He pulled his head to one side. It cut his cheek, but he was still alive. Blood was flowing down on his ear. He felt something by his hand. He grabbed it. His gun.

He pointed it at the bird’s head. Emptied it. Beak splints, blood and feathers. The bird fell dead to the side.

He could hear shrieks. Bird screams coming closer. He got his bike up. Jumped on. Pushing down the pedal once. It didn’t start. Twice. Nothing. He saw them now. Many of them, running straight at him. Third time. Engine sound. He stepped on the pedal. The bike went sliding from side to side and up on the road.

He drove off at high speed and kept driving.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phorusrhacidae

http://listosaur.com/science-a-technology/10-animals-once-thought-to-be-mythical-or-extinct/

http://www.doc.govt.nz/nature/native-animals/birds/birds-a-z/takahe/

Mantis Religiosa

The Little Devil

The Little Devil

A little devil was watching the world. He hated it all, but sometimes it amused him. All these strange humans killing each other in the name of God or good or morals or whatever excuse they had. So much fun.

He wanted to do something different today. He usually spent his days corrupting the minds of the rich and the powerful, but it was getting boring.

He wanted to corrupt a child.

The little boy was playing with his friend, a girl the same age. The little devil looked at them for a while, then he moved closer.

This is for you, said the little boy. He held out a bouquet of flowers.

Oh, thank you! Said the little girl with a big smile.

The little devil frowned in disgust. He went over, and whispered in the boys ear:

Go play closer to the cliff…

The little boy looked over at the cliff.

Over there is a great place to play, he said.

At the edge of the bluff? But we’re not allowed to go there…? The little girl looked at the forbidden part of the garden.

It’s all a conspiracy to keep you away from fun….

That’s because our mommies don’t want us to have fun! Said the little boy. Come, let’s go! It’s probably great there! He started walking closer. The little girl followed, a bit doubtful. She did like to have fun.

The went over to the cliff. There was a log way down. The little girl waited some meters away from the edge as the little boy was looking down.

Come! He said. It’s awesome!

I don’t wanna! Said the girl. She was afraid of heights, but didn’t want to admit it.

Give her candy…

I’ll give you candy if you come closer.

The little girl hesitated. Candy? She did like candy.

She walked closer.

Push her…

The boy looked at the girl. His best friend. He felt an urge inside, a strange, dark drive of evil, pulling him towards her.

Push her…

He moved closer, rising his hands.

Somewhere inside his heart was screaming no. A voice was coming from the love of his friend, an emotion of warmth, a feeling of belonging. No.

Do it!

No! He said out loud.

No what? Said the little girl, looking puzzled.

He stood there, looking at her. A part of him really wanted to see her fall. Just to see what happened.

Let’s go play somewhere else, he said. I don’t like it here.

As they ran back over the grass, the little devil’s stomach was revoking with loath. Vomiting he flew off to the parliament. He needed to restore his faith.

http://www.globalissues.org/article/590/corruption

https://flashfictionmagazine.com/blog/2015/03/04/golem/

El Duende Pt 1/3

Not My Responsibility

Not My Responsibility.jpg

Martin was sitting on his farm, in his chair, listening to the cold wind outside. It was mid-winter, and the fire in the fireplace felt good. He a bit fat, short for a Norwegian, but satisfied with himself and his life. If people could just be more like him, everything would be better.

The news were taking about horrible things going on in the world. Good thing he was there on his farm, protected from all these horrible people. It was probably their own fault anyway.

A knock on the door. He put on the chain and opened the door a bit. Two people were standing outside in the darkness. They where shivering from the cold. Please, they said. They were different from him, from some foreign country.

Please, said the man. We’ve had an accident, and we’re lost in the woods. There’s no way we can get anywhere. What do we do?

That’s not my problem, said Martin. Call a cab.

But we have no money.

Get lost! Said Martin, and shut the door.

A bit later he looked out of the window. Footprints towards his barn. Those bastards.

He found the same couple inside the barn. His barn.

Get the fuck out of here! He shouted, with his hay fork at hand. The man in his barn got angry.

Please, my wife hurt her leg. Why can’t we stay? Why does it matter to you, we just want to avoid the cold?

You’re on my property, said Martin.

But it’s so cold out, said the woman with tears in her eyes. Please…

Martin lifted the hay fork.

GET OUT!

They got up on their feet, and left. In the doorway the man turned around.

You’re a horrible person you know that? He said.

Martin took a step towards him.

They left and started walking down the road.

The next day they were found frozen to death in the forest. Martin knew it wasn’t his fault, it was their own for getting lost. He had no responsibility for the mistakes of others.

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/indifference

https://bobbiblogger.wordpress.com/2017/07/30/every-time-we-witness-an-injustice/

Lost Faith in Humanity

The Ghost of Dusterville

The Ghost of LasservilleThe fog lay dense over the little village. There was no one in the streets. Silence.

Something moved between the houses. Something dark. Something evil. A scream was heard.

People came running out of their houses. Down the road. A ghost, they said. There was a ghost right here.

The next night the ghost was seen again. This time several people saw it. What do you want? They asked.

Bllooooodddd…. Answered the ghost and disappeared.

The ghost wants blood! We need to get it blood, Or else we will all be doomed!

They got a goat, brought it to the village square. The ghost didn’t appear.

This is stupid, said Ronald the blacksmith. Ghosts doesn’t exist.

But we’ve seen it! We’ve seen it!

It’s probably someone who wants to fool you, said Ronald.

You are so closed minded, said Hans the farmer.

You never believe in anything. Said the stable boy.

Whatever, said Ronald. I’m going home.

Look! There it is! The ghost appeared between the houses. First it could hardly be seen, but slowly it materialized. Then it disappeared.

You see? You see?

Ronald left.

The goat was sacrificed.

The ghost stood there, watching them in all it’s evilness.

I don’t wwwwaaaant goat’s blood, you stuuuuupiiiiidddd villagers…

The tailor fell to his knees. But what do you want? Tell us, please don’t harm us!

The ghost rose a bony hand. It pointed. At Rebecca.

He wants Rebecca! Said the shoemaker. Rebecca looked at the others. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t want the wrath of the ghost upon the villagers either. She cried.

Tomorrroooowwww…. The ghost disappeared.

The next day the villagers had gathered on the square. They had brought the young girl for the sacrifice. The ghost appeared.

Rebecca was pulled out. She was crying. The Tailor had a big knife in his hand.

Oh, ghost! We give you this sacrifice to…

Ronald came running out from behind the ghost. He had a spade in his hand. The ghost turned around, but to slow. He hit it in the head. It fell to the ground. Lifted it’s arms to defend itself. Ronald lifted the spade again.

No! No, please don’t kill me!

Kill it..? Said the stable boy. Aren’t ghosts already dead?

Ronald pulled the filthy cloth off it. On the ground lied the tailor’s son.

What the… People looked from the boy to the tailor and back to the boy.

Rebecca ripped loose. But Peter! Why,…?

I hate you. I always hated you. I wanted you dead.

The tailor stood there, said nothing. He felt rather stupid. Everybody did.

Good thing we didn’t kill her, then, said the stable boy after a while.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Superstition

https://thestoryshack.com/flash-fiction/suspense/tim-cote-the-ghost/

Prophetic Poetry

Freak Show

freakshow.jpg

Mr Arnaldo owned a travelling show with five attractions. The bearded woman, the man with the giant foot. the monkey boy and the man with eleven fingers. They were not the interesting part. They had something new now. Something horrible.

The other monsters were humans. There wasn’t really any doubt about it. But the fifth one was… different. It was humanoid, but only to some extent. There was something to it. Behind it’s eyes. In the shadows that surrounded it. They hadn’t let it out of the cage.

The bearded woman was Mr Arnaldo’s wife, and she wasn’t really bearded. He let his beard grow, they cut it, and glued it to her face. The monkey boy, on the other hand, was real. Well, he wasn’t a monkey boy, of course, but he was very hairy. They had bought him from his parents a couple of years ago, they were happy to get rid of him. Shameful, they had been. So now he was travelling with them. He didn’t like the shows much, but he was OK the rest of the time. They didn’t give him food and roof for charity, either.

The man with the giant foot and the other with eleven fingers was just that, a man with a giant foot and one with eleven fingers. He’d given them a job, that’s all. They weren’t really that interesting though, the monkey boy and his bearded wife pulled in more costumers. He didn’t pay them much anyway, it’s not like they could find anything else.

Ever since the two headed girl died, things had been going slow. The others simply weren’t enough two pull the business. That’s when they’d found the creature.

It was perfect. It was like a human, somehow, but there were shadows moving around it. It’s red, glowing eyes gave it’s intense stare an evil, dark and horrible depth never before seen. They were going to be famous.

Today it would be shown for the first time. Mr Arnaldo couldn’t wait. They had sold out all the tickets.

Come and see our horrible freaks! The man with the giant foot! The Monkey boy! The eleven fingered troll! And the beautiful bearded woman!

Loud applause from the public.

The four of them walked around for a while. People applauding, having fun. Shouting things. Ugly things. Dirty things.

But, my dear spectators… That is nothing. He’d lowered his voice now. We have something you’ve never seen before!

In the centre of the stage there was a cube with a clothing covering it. He walked over to it.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the great attraction! You think what you seen until now is disgusting? You think they are horrendous monsters? Behold, a creature from the darker depths of dungeon dimensions. A demon of horrible hells. The horrible! The Dark! The Evil! Rangooooorrrr!

He pulled the cloth off. Inside they saw something moving. Something dark, as if it was inside a shadow, darkness moving around though light should enter. It was moving around, as in fear. Fear of the light. Fear of the people. They could catch a glimpse of a face. A horrible, evil face. A sigh of astonishment went through the crowd.

Amazing… Horrendous…. It’s a devil… They whispered, they were to shocked to shout. Then someone started applauding. Everyone soon followed. Loud shouts.

Fantastic! Amazing! Hurray!

Mr Arnaldo was bowing to the applause. People stopped clapping. He looked at them. At their faces. Some looked scared. Others amazed, as if they were waiting for the next great part of the show. They were not looking at him. They were looking behind him.

He turned slowly around. The dark creature was no longer inside the cage. It was standing behind him. He screamed. The crowd suddenly understood this was not part of the show.

Panic broke out in the crowd. People started running away, but the creature suddenly was everywhere. It started killing. People were ripped to pieces by the dark shadows moving around them outside of time. A bloodbath.

Mr Arnaldo was paralysed. He wanted to move, to run.. He could not. He watched as his costumers were all ripped to pieces.

This is not good for business.

The creature lifted him up. Laughing. He screamed as his body slowly dissolved into little, dark flying creeps, disappearing in the air as the flew away.

Then it all stopped.

There were only three people left. A hairy little boy. A man with a giant foot, and another with eleven fingers.

I guess we’re unemployed, Maxmillian said after a while.

I guess we are, said Jack thoughtful. There are better jobs.

There should be, answered Maxmillian. He looked towards the village. There couldn’t be much people left.

https://thingssaidanddone.wordpress.com/2010/09/26/strange-and-bizarre-the-history-of-freak-shows/

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/2969551/1/Freakshow

Liquid Ink

Revive Pt 2/2

Revive 2.jpg

First part here.

His brain didn’t work the way it should. It was… Diffuse. Strange. Like if there was some kind of fog, some kind of… death. He felt nothing. He wasn’t sure if he was even alive.

He saw the village further down. Remembering something. Some… person. Eyes. A touch. Soon it was gone.

He arrived between the houses. People were walking by, some saluted. Others ignored him. He didn’t understand. He didn’t care. They were things, moving, walking.

Martin saw a strange man walking down the street. He jumped aside, as the other almost bumped into him. Hey, Jones! I didn’t recognise you. Jones the gravedigger just passed by, like he didn’t even see him. He walked strangely. He must be drunk, said Martin when he was a bit down the road. So unlike him.

He came to a house. It looked familiar, somehow. What was that, deep inside him? Feelings? Memories? He needed to feel something. He needed to remember. Something to show him he existed, that he was alive. Something real.

He entered. His shady eyesight made it hard to see. Some sound from within the house, from the next room. It was hard to tell what it was, his ears were full of noise, a background noise without meaning. Or was it his brain? He tried to think about it, but his thoughts were slow, too slow. They didn’t make sense.

Darcy came walking into the hallway. He was standing there, looking at her. She used to be his wife, but he could not really remember. She looked at him.

What’s wrong, darling…? She said. He said nothing. The expression on his face was…. Strange. Dead, somehow. Empty. Scary. What’s that you have on your head? There were cables and metal tubes sticking out on one side.

No answer. He just stood there. Something was wrong. She took a step back. He followed her. She started running.

He caught her. Held her down. She tried to fight him, but he was too strong. He needed to feel something. Anything. He bit her. Bit her in the face. She screamed even harder. Started hitting him. He could feel the punches. A little bit. Not pain. Not even molest. Just the recognition of something hitting his skin. It felt good. Alive. Real. He started hitting her back. In the face. Again and again. He felt something. A strange pleasure of violence. Some of the life he vaguely remembered was still in him. She didn’t move any more. He punched her face a while longer. It wasn’t the same when she didn’t move. He started biting her head.

Martin came running in the open door. He’d heard the noise, and came to see what was happening. Darcy! Is everything… He stopped. Her husband was lying over her. Chewing on her. He backed out.

Help! Help, someone!

The creature got up on his feet. Walked towards the noise. Out the door. Martin ran away, screaming. The other villagers came out of their houses.

He’s killed Mrs Jones! He’s killed her!

But it’s Mr Jones? How could you? One of the villagers exclaimed in disbelief.

That’s not Mr Jones… Said another. It’s a monster! Kill it!

The villagers picked up weapons. Axes, spades, whatever they had at hand. They were many now.

He looked at them. Their weapons. They were after him. They wanted to hurt him. Fear? Maybe. Something strange deep underneath the clouds in his mind. Fear. Danger. He turned, ran. Down the slope, over the fields, into the forest.

The farmers came running after him. Shouting. Dogs barking. A dog reached, him, barking around his legs. A small one. He tried to kick it, but it was difficult when he was running. Another dog, a big one, came. Bit his leg. He fell. Two others started biting his arms. Fear. Definitely fear. A farmer arrived, stabbed him with a trident. Another hit his head with a big pickaxe. Pain. He was alive. He was beyond doubt alive.

Now he was dying again.

http://www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/hwr.aspx

http://observer.com/2016/05/were-closer-than-ever-to-bringing-the-dead-back-to-life/

http://theweek.com/articles/474803/7-bizarre-tales-people-coming-back-from-dead

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Resurrection

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/death

Tears of Blood

Ceremony Pt 2/2

Ceremony 2.jpg

I’m so glad you could come, he said. He looked happy. In peace.

Did you do this? I asked him, though I knew. I liked to get a confession before I got started..

Of course. Isn’t it beautiful? Justice, my friend. You of all people should understand.

I looked at the body parts on the wall. This guy was sicker than any criminal I’ve ever found.

You killed an innocent little girl… I said it between my teeth. The anger was rising inside me. Hate.

No one’s innocent, John… No one.

I stood there, waiting for his move. Trying to look as defenceless as I could, so he would underestimate me when he decided to kill me. One of us was going to die tonight. It wasn’t going to be me.

I waited. Nothing happened.

He put his knife on the table. Bad move. A bit too bad. No time to think.

I did this to…

I attacked. Punched him in the face. He fell back, landed on the floor. I grabbed his knife.

You know you’re going to die, right? I said.

No answer. He was just looking at me, as if he wanted it. Maybe that was it. Maybe he wanted me to put him out of his misery. It bothered me. Not much punishment in that. I preferred the ones who begged for mercy. At least I was going to make it painful.

He didn’t scream. Whatever I did he never even moved.

When I had had enough of the torture, I lifted the knife. He looked at me.

Good luck, John, he said. Still smiling, the sick son of a bitch.

I cut his throat. His messed up face was still grinning, yet it looked more sinister now with his face all messed up and the empty, dead eyes, the open wound underneath it.

I needed to get out of there. The cops could be there any moment. Some neighbour might have heard the noise, though it probably was quite usual in this neighbourhood. This would be hard to explain. I turned around, took one last look at the macabre symbol on the wall. The face of the little girl was smiling as well. There was a strange glow from it. I got out of there fast.

Running down the road I felt different. Like I had changed somehow. I still had the same urge for justice, the same urge for avenging anything wrong in this world. I still felt like the good guy of justice I always had considered myself, but I saw things differently now.

Everyone was guilty. Especially the little girls.

https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/evolution-the-self/201402/don-t-confuse-revenge-justice-five-key-differences

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evil

Empathy

Aether

Aether

The Void Project was going several times light speed through the emptiness of the Dipole Repeller. A void of emptiness in space. No stars. No galaxies. No matter of any kind.

We’re loosing speed, Captain! First pilot Rebecca Larson was switching switches, pulling levers and pushing buttons all at once. This was bad.

She was of the best pilots of the old solar system. She’d been travelling the galaxy and she had been part of the Andromeda V project, an intergalactic journey of importance.

This was different. They were crossing total emptiness. Not so many centuries ago people had believed in a lot of restrictions. Light speed as an upper limit of velocity was one of them.

They were proving that exploiting the energy of the void was the fastest way of moving man had ever known. The dark energy was inexhaustible. They were accelerating at an enormous rate, literally being sucked through space. Until now.

What? What do you mean we’re loosing speed? That’s impossible. We should be increasing velocity  faster than ever.

I know, but we’re loosing speed. Fast. We’ve…. Stopped.

Captain Naufrago watched the screen in front of his first pilot in disbelief. It was true. The ship didn’t move at all.

We’ve stopped. I can’t believe it. We’ve fucking stopped

There was no way to get a ship started in the extreme emptiness of the void. They were stuck half way through. No one had ever been in more trouble.

C-captain… Said Rebecca. Captain Naufrago looked out of the huge energy field window in front. There was something there. In the total darkness ahead, something was moving. Eyes were staring at them. Eyes big as galaxies. Pupils dark as black holes.

The instruments showed nothing, there was nothing around them at all. Still they could see it. Feel it. It was watching them. Something was there, and it was big. Vast as the universe itself.

Graaaargghhhssssss…

A strange sound of horror. The vessel was vibrating. Sound should be impossible in the total lack of substance they were in, but still, there it was. Darkness. Evil. They knew what it was. It was nothingness. Aether. Where gods could not exist, were souls were devoured by madness.

A hand stretched out towards them. It had fingers impossible to count, claws of unseen dimensions. Terror of depths never known.

It took hold of their ship.

No one spoke. No panic, no intent of defence. There was nothing anyone could do. The walls started crunching in. All hope was lost.

Fire!  Water  Air (Earth)

https://www.nature.com/articles/s41550-016-0036

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aether_(classical_element)

http://hubblesite.org/explore_astronomy/hubbles_universe_unfiltered/blogs/qna-what-fills-the-empty-space-between-galaxies

https://www.forbes.com/sites/bridaineparnell/2017/01/31/dipole-repeller-discovered/#355319d1586ahttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aether_(classical_element)

http://newatlas.com/dipole-repeller-void-pushing-milky-way/47648/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_energyhttps://arxiv.org/pdf/1702.02483.pdf

http://atlasoftheuniverse.com/superc.html

Water

Water.jpg

On an idyllic little lake deep in the forest there’s a little boat. The silence is only broken by the water splashing against it, the oars breaking the surface.

Ouch!

Mike stops. It came from under the hull. Is there someone there? The boat floats forwards for a short while. It stops, wagging in the small movements in the lake. He looks over the edge.

Be careful, stupid! Watch where you’re going!

There’s a little bulb in the surface of the water. It has a face. Mike’s eyes grow in astonishment..

What are you? He says in deep awe.

What does it look like I am, stupid? I’m water.

Water? Mike’s confused. But… but water doesn’t talk?

Water doesn’t talk, water doesn’t talk, the water mocks. Water talks when water fucking wants to talk. Thing is humans aren’t really that interesting for conversation,. but you pissed me off. Get lost!

It disappears. Not the water, of course. The face.

Mike is sitting there. The water just spoke to him. Was he going crazy? He’s trying to make sense of it all. He decides he cannot, and starts rowing in towards shore.

Ouch! He hears again. -That’s it, asshole. That’s it.

Mike looks over the edge. There’s nothing there.

I’m under here, coward! He leans further out.

A wave comes out of nowhere, knocks the boat from the other side. It goes round. Mike falls head first into the pond.

Get him, guys! The water creature things attack him. They punch him in the face with their water hands. It’s quite annoying. They keep splashing their fists in his face as he swims towards the shore. He gets up on the the bank.

And stay out!

Haha! The creatures slaps hand, satisfied with their victory. Yeah! Stupid human. We showed him, didn’t we. That’ll teach him a lesson. So they go on for a while.

They disappear, the surface is once again still.

Mike sits on the shore for a while looking at the lake. That was the strangest thing he’d ever experienced. Once again he shrugs it off, and walks up to his cottage. Probably better not to think too much about it.

https://artsurdo.wordpress.com/2017/02/28/agua/

https://aljathewriter.wordpress.com/2011/12/06/lady-of-the-lake-flash-fiction/

Lake Fear

Fire!

Fire!.jpg

The flames were licking the wood in the vividly burning fireplace. Silence. Everything was beautiful. Johnny was just going to relax tonight, he’d even switched off his phone.

The flames looked almost like living things, small creatures jumping around the black wood. They…. were little creatures! Johnny was astonished. Little monsters was running around, jumping, dancing. They had little heads, two feet and two arms.

He moved closer. What are they? One on them looked at him. Laughing. It was chopping on to the log with an axe of fire, seeming to form part of him, mixed together in the way of flames. It punched an other one, occupied digging his little claws into the wood, on the shoulder. The other turned. It seemed amused as well.

They jumped forward as if they wanted to look closer. Out of the fireplace, down on the wooden floor. Johnny was too astonished to really understand anything. They seemed to have some sort of intelligence, they seemed to be curious about him. They were standing there, contemplating him. Exchanging words or something between them. The wood underneath them was getting black. Smoke.

Fuck! Johnny reacted fast. He caught the ash shovel and tried to put them out. They jumped away, running around, ducking. They seemed scared. Johnny hit one of them. It disappeared like the flame of a blown out candle. The other dived back into the fireplace.

Phew! Said Johnny. That was close. He looked at the blaze. The little fire men were standing in the chimney talking eagerly to the burning log. There are more of them now.The wood chunks were burning harder. The flames rose. Johnny backed away a bit, his face was getting too hot. One of the creatures took a step towards him. Screams.

Little fire-creatures came running out of the chimney. They ran up the walls, the curtains.  Johnny turned towards the door. A face covered it. Dark and evil. Laughing. Around him danced hundreds of small creatures. They were singing now. He could hear their words, chanting, messing.

The king of flames has come to be, the God of flames has come.

His big, his hot, and there’s no escape. His big, his hot, and there’s no escape.

The God of flames has come.

Soon Johnny’s screams are louder. When the fire truck arrives the house is already burning to the ground.

https://theurbanspaceman.net/2017/04/04/firewall-flash-fiction/

http://www.santharia.com/alchemy/fire.htm

Like a Drop in the Sea

Defeat

Defeat

Sir Morgary lifts his sword. He’s won the battle, there’s no doubt about that. Sir Gregory is on the ground, defeated. But it’s not over.

Sir Gregory turns slowly. Morgary sees his eye. A look of defeat. Of hate. Once this man had been his friend. Together they had won battles, they had slaughtered and raped, drunk on victory. That is a long time ago.

He lets the heavy broadsword fall. Cuts his neck in one strike. Gregory’s head falls to the ground.

It’s still staring at him.

The rest of Sir Gregory stays on one knee.

Strange. Sir Morgary wipes the blood off his blade. He turns around and walks toward his horse. He was bringing news to his king. Now they aren’t all bad.

The saddle is a bit loose. He tightens it. He hears a sound behind him. A sound of chain mall moving. Metal scraping on metal.

There. The body has fallen. He turns around to have a last look at his kill before he leaves.

Sir Gregory is standing. His head still lies on the ground, still staring at Morgary. Morgary lifts his sword in disbelief. The lack of logic scares him. He knows how to handle fear. He attacks. Pierces his sword into the headless warrior’s chest. Through the metal. Straight into his heart.

His sword’s stuck. The decapitated body stands. The head on the ground starts laughing. First a giggle. Then stronger. It laughs like a madman as it’s body lifts his sword.

The sword goes down over Morgary’s right shoulder. It comes out under his left arm. A clean cut. He falls to the ground in two pieces.

Gregory picks up his head. He walks over to his dead opponent’s horse. Holds his head up, looking to the east. He jumps up on the animal and rides towards town. Vengeance will be his.

https://esoterx.com/2016/11/13/the-headless-hitchhiker-of-st-leonards-forest/

http://www.musikitty.com/headless_horseman.html

The Strange Nest

Dystopia Pt 3/3

Dystopia Pt3

First part. Second part.

The park was as beautiful as always. Kids playing, adults chatting. Life had become so easy. Tanya was sitting on the bench watching actors doing a play. Real art, art created for the art itself, not to survive, not to make money. Her teddy was lying on the bench beside her. She was laughing, applauding.

….

Malak got up between the assembly lines. Gunshots. He ran, stepping on toys and things going down the line. Drones were coming after him. At the end of the line there was an opening. He could see the dark sky. He ran towards the edge.

In a distance he could see the cotton fields. Where there once had been people living, cultivating food for their families, now there was cotton as far as the eye could see. Enormous machines were harvesting. Any living creature entering would be killed.

Far underneath he saw robots working. Transport vehicles going out through the highly guarded gate. The fall was too high. He turned, wanting to run back, but the drones were coming. A machine gun pointed right at him.

He fell over the edge.

….

I forgot my teddy bear!

We can’t go back now, there’s no time. Grandma’s waiting.

But I really liked him…

Don’t worry, sweetheart. We can always buy you a new one.

…..

Mika’s mother was standing by her kitchen. Tears were running down her cheeks. If the poor child wasn’t back by now, he probably wouldn’t be. How could she send a child on such a dangerous mission? Regrets. Shame. She heard the hatch open.

Malak. He had fallen in the transport vehicle, the toys had reduced his fall. The drones had not been able to detect him underneath them. He had scratches and wounds all over, and his clothes were even worse than when he left, but he was whole and alive.

He had a metal lever in one hand, the broken piece to the electricity generator. In the other he held a teddy bear.

A brown one with a red band around it’s neck.

http://www.globalissues.org/issue/235/consumption-and-consumerism

https://www.becomingminimalist.com/escaping-excessive-consumerism/

http://verdant.net/society.htm

Liquid Ink

liquid ink

After her father died things had gotten worse. Her mother never let her out. Ever. She didn’t go to school. She didn’t have friends. Most of the time she was locked up in her room, like now. Her mother would unlock the door when she needed her.

Her only pleasure was to draw. To paint. The Ink. She wet the paper, as she always did. The contours of a tower took form in the glistening water. She dipped the brush in the ink bottle, took it down on the paper, moving it under the roof and down one wall where the darker areas would be. Then she let the ink flow.

She loved how it moved. It was like it had a life on it’s own, like if she was the spectator. It was magic. The tower came to life.

A girl appeared in the window. She hadn’t even planned for that. A face took form. It was her face. It was her.

Dark shadows floated around her. On the desk. In the air. It stained the walls. The ceiling.

She was sitting by a desk in a room of stone walls. There was nothing else in the room but an old chest. She was gone.

She heard someone crying. A weep of deep, bottomless sorrow, a cry of loss of loved ones and despair. The door was open.

There was a steep, winding stone staircase going down.

It was dark. She walked slowly, following the sound. She saw light coming out from under a door further down. She heard voices. Noises. Someone shouting. She knew that voice. Her mother. She couldn’t tell the words, but knew to whom ever she was shouting at, the words would be hurtful. She passed the door, down the dark staircase.

She kept following the stairs. Another door. This one was open. She saw her father, dead on the bed. Her mother standing besides him with a knife in her hand. Her back towards her. She turned. Looked right at her. She closed the door and ran.

On the bottom of the stairs there was darkness. She heard the crying clearly now. It was her father. She moved slowly, carefully. So much pain. So much sorrow.

Father? She said. Is that you?

Her eyes were adapting. Her father was sitting on the floor. Someone was lying beside him.

Why didn’t you leave, he said. Sadness. Despair.

A light came on. A small flame in an alcohol lamp. She saw herself lying there. She held a rose in her hands. Her throat was cut.

You have to go. Now! His back still towards her.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t move.

He turned. His face was twisted. Tortured.

Run!!! He screamed. She turned. Her mother was there. Floating, like liquid. Changing form. Dark, grey and black forms of evil. Laughing. The forms filled the room.

She ran. She ran down a long hall. The walls were changing. Twisting. She could hear her mother’s evil laughter. Behind her, in front of her. Everywhere. A light. She ran towards it. Another door. It was closing. She threw herself at it.

She fell into the daylight. Turned around, fast, as to defend herself. She saw their house. She was back in the real world, in their yard. The shadows were gone.

Jane? Her mother’s voice from inside the house, upstairs.. She was angry. Jane, where are? I told you to stay in your room! How did you get out, anyway?

She got up and ran without looking back. She never returned.

http://www.kongregate.com/games/TheGameKitchen/the-last-door-chapter-1-the-letter

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ink

Domestic Violence