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Title: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on December 26, 2017, 12:32:41 PM
Just seemed like a thread we could use. If you've written anything of late, be it a song, a screenplay, a poem, a story, or an epic novel, post a link, post the writing here, or just tell of your writing ideas or compositional progress. Dispense with modesty, let loose and brag on yourself if you want!



Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on December 26, 2017, 03:08:48 PM
Ok, this might not quite count as recent but it is the last story I wrote. Did it one evening when I was at RAF Cosford and have only shown it to two other people in the sixteen years since. If you have some knowledge of the Cthulhu mythos it will help understanding it.

Under a gibbious moon something ancient and unspeakable stirred.
For uncounted aeons it had lain, dead but not dead. Waiting to
rise again. Mighty Cthulhu, disturbed from his rest arose, driving
himself up. Through the deep ocean he rose leaving R'yleh beneath
his noisome bulk. His unclean presence polluting the night air as
he surfaced and raised himself in the eldrich night.

Squamous and loathsome, he sped ever southward, to the place his
mind recalled only as the home of his immortal enemies, the Elder
race. Over ocean waves, and then frozen ice he flew on his mere
presence spreading madness and death on the few lonely ships and
outposts he flew over.

Over uncharted miles he passed uncaring and unheeding of the
nightmares and chaos he spread until he saw it. The last city of
the Elder Things.

He stopped at the mighty gates and roared a mighty challange.
One timid teenage Elder Thing pushed by his friends to the door,
cautiously opened it and stared at the prophet and high priest of
the Old Ones, maloderous slime dripping from his noisome body and
quiving in fear piped "What is it?"

In his ageless voice Cthulhu roared "I know your parents are away
for the weekend and you kids are having a party, but some of us have
to work the stars are right shift and need to get some sleep so turn
the damn stereo down so I can sleep!"

His message delivered grumpy Cthulhu rose once more into the air.
Loathsome and endless the creature older than mankind flew back
across the numberless leagues to R'yleh and his eternal rest.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on December 27, 2017, 10:33:46 AM
Seems my diary for 2017 will be the longest volume I've written since 2005.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: indianasmith on December 27, 2017, 08:35:04 PM
Well, let's see - all but the noobs in here know that I'm a writer, but -

I've completed five novels since 2012, of which four are in print and the last will be released on May 1, 2018.
I am currently working on number 6, however, I have had a very hard time finishing it.  It's going to wind up being the first book that took me over a year to complete.
I write a weekly (more or less) blog in which I publish short fiction, observations on life, faith, and family, and occasionally just funny stuff I come up with.
And I write posts here almost daily, because I am addicted to this place!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Rev. Powell on December 28, 2017, 08:57:09 AM
One to three movie reviews a week at 366weirdmovies.com, a pace I plan to keep up through the next year.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: 316zombie on December 30, 2017, 07:00:45 PM
does rewriting/editing count? i'm doing that with my cookbook. it's something i wrote up years ago and got 25 printed as gifts for the autistic young adults who were in my free university  cooking class, the rest went to my nieces and young coworkers.
   my oldest niece found her copy, showed it to her boss,she wants to see it polished up,so maybe it'll get published, who know?
 i'm adding new stuff and trying( with very little success) to make it less detailed .... the original HAD to be super detailed, but in simple words ,,it's hard to explain.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: FatFreddysCat on December 31, 2017, 01:32:49 PM
I write reviews of movies, music, and whatever else tickles my fancy on my HubPage blog:

https://hubpages.com/@fatfreddyscat


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on January 05, 2018, 11:00:53 PM
In October, in one nine-hour burst of fevered energy, I abruptly wrote a first-person 100-page memoir from the perspective of someone I used to know who died a long time ago, and that experience reminded me of how I used to read about when Joyce Carol Oates wrote The Poisoned Kiss half a century ago, she did so feeling "taken over" by the presence of a strange Portuguese writer she named Fernandes, and when I read Oates so often in my teens I used to wonder what that might have felt like for her.

I wonder no more.

I am a diffidently clumsy writer who often makes corrections and changes, but honestly writing that came out like it was a final draft, barely an alteration to be made. Strange.

The experience of writing from someone else's perspective was extremely odd for several reasons, though this week the one person I've so far let read it said it was the best thing I ever wrote.

Just....gosh.

Now I'm psyching myself up to let two and maybe even three people read it, though one might then print it out just to try to beat me to death with it.

I'm proud of this, tell you the truth.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: indianasmith on January 06, 2018, 06:33:32 PM
I got a chapter and a half written on my new book over the weekend!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Pacman000 on January 08, 2018, 03:45:19 PM
Tried writing something for the Lost Media Wiki a few weeks ago. They said it was too short and deleted it.

Quote
{{InfoboxLost
|title=<center>Crash Bandicoot Adventure</center>
|status=<span style="color:orange;">'''Partially Found'''</span>
}}
'''Crash Bandicoot Adventure (A.K.A. Crash Bandicoot: Bandicoot Pursuit)''' was an online point-and-click adventure used to promote Naughty Dog's 1996 PlayStation platformer. It was on Sony's official PlayStation website, and it required Shockwave to run. In it players navigated three islands collecting items. The object was "to collect all seven gems and put them into the Great Mantle." U.S. players who completed the game could enter a drawing for a number of prizes, including a trip to Universal Studios. Parts of the game are preserved in the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine. Source: [https://web.archive.org/web/19961222223310/http://www.sepc.sony.com:80/SCEA/arena/crash/pursuit/]

==Contest==
The game was used as part of a contest. Players who successfully completed the game could enter a

[[Category:Lost video games]]
[[Category:Partially found media]]


Not really sure if there's much else anyone could add. I could've outlined the contest rules and prizes a bit better, and I was planning to do so, but other than that everything's lost. That's kinda the point...  :question: :bluesad:


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: stine.greta on January 08, 2018, 08:50:11 PM
I am really not in the mood to do anything, it feels like I lost some motivation to do content writing.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: indianasmith on January 08, 2018, 10:33:42 PM
My book THEOPHILUS: A TALE OF ANCIENT ROME got a new five star review on Amazon today!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on January 11, 2018, 10:52:21 AM
A few days ago I gave that hundred-page first-person "memoir" I mentioned to the sister of the person about whom I wrote it, held my breath in trepidation as to what she might say, and yesterday afternoon she ended up asking if I'd meet her because she wanted to talk about it. We ended up talking seven hours.

It might say something that the title I gave this project was Tu Fui Ego Eris, a Latin saying that roughly means: "What you are, I was. What I am you shall be." And it's about someone who is now dead, speaking as it were post-mortem.

She seemed oddly taken aback and while she said nice things, many, in fact, and laughed at reading about herself in there (more on that in a second), she also admitted to being weirded out that, as she said, I not only got so much exactly right (which was one of the reasons I wanted her to read it, to tell me if I made any major mistakes) she said it was eerie how I got the tone of her late brother not only right, but "precisely" right.

I thanked her and told her that came from knowing him so well, heck, we almost got married, and she said yes, but HOW did you do it?

Maybe it was the fact we were talking in a cemetery on a gloomy day but she was actually creeped out, and got more creeped out when I admitted to her that while I absolutely am not going to try to say anyone but me wrote it, I did have an experience in writing it that had never come up in my life, out of all I had written. It was like the words were pushed right through my brain, like dictation, virtually no changes were ever made, and she asked me point blank if I believed people could channel the dead, and I said I had no idea but if I had to guess, then no.

I said, "I wrote this, Clare."

She said, "I know, but....it sounds just like him. He could have written it, that's how much like him it was."

She recovered a bit when we went and had dinner, got out of the old cemetery where we had been talking, a place I like to go to and read on my lunch breaks (and no, it's not where her brother is buried, I've never been to his grave, and considering I spent three grief-stricken years trying to live through him dying, I don't think it'd be a good place for me to go) and she talked less about how eerie she found what I'd done and more about how it was like hearing from her brother after all these years, how it read just exactly like how he talked, how I put down incidents she hadn't thought of in years, and no, I didn't make any glaring mistakes, it was all like her brother wrote a life story and she read it.

I'm not bragging in repeating this, only sharing it because it left me feeling moved more than I can probably express, like whatever powerful spiritual drive made me sit and without having thought about it a few minutes before, write someone's life story down in one nine-hour marathon session, and get it so right even someone there for a lot of it told me it was a worthy accomplishment. (I'd been scared I bungled it or she'd be mad.)

Now she wants me to let her father read it, maybe her mother, and I am terrified all over again, especially since there are parts in there that perhaps revisit chapters those people would like to let lie in the past. I'd probably find it easier to let a stranger read it than his mother, ha.

I asked what part she liked best, and she said this one (again, written from someone else's perspective, not mine):


TWENTY-FOUR
One night around this time, I think we’d be talking about September of ’94, I happened to go out with some guys, and in the course of things I did something I rarely ever would and found myself too inebriated to sensibly try to drive home. I was saved from the investment of cab fare by the intervention of my friend’s sister, who happened to work at the establishment where the aforementioned drinking had transpired, and who was also (what’re the odds of this) named Evelyn. She kindly offered me a lift home, which I gladly accepted.

The ride is a blur but she dropped me off well past midnight, I staggered upstairs and fell into bed, then woke up in the morning face-down diagonally across the mattress, still wearing my clothes and having to pee so badly I almost tripped stumbling into the bathroom. There I realized while I was peeing for probably forty-five seconds, that firstly I had no car, it having been left outside the place the night before, and secondly, I had two morning classes, both in my major, and both vital to my GPA.

So, sick at my stomach, head banging like a drum, the room spinning a little, I did what no sane man on the planet would ever want to do and…. I gritted my teeth and called my sister before her school started, and asked her how hard it’d be to take me to my car before she went in.

She caught on instantly and summed my predicament up with cruel accuracy.

“You were drinking last night, right, Brian?”

“Yes, Clare.”

“And you need me to take you all the way downtown, Brian?”

“Yes, Clare.”

“Before school starts, Brian?”

“Yes, Clare.”

“And are you even in a condition to drive when we get there, Brian?”

“Yes, Clare.”

“And this is one of those ‘don’t tell Mom’ things, right Brian?”

“Yes, Clare.”

“After this you’re going to admit I’m the greatest sister ever, right Brian?”

“Yes, Clare.”

“And you’re going to owe me big, aren’t you, Brian?”

“Yes, Clare.”

 “All right, I’ll drive you, Brian.”

“Thank you, Clare.”

“Yeah, you better be thanking me, Brian.”

“I do, Clare.”

She did take me, and even met me with the Godsend of a huge thermos of strong black coffee, but then lectured me mercilessly in a voice like a toy terrier’s, saying how lucky I was it not one of her two mornings where she did gymnastics before school. She said I was stupid and behaving risky, and didn’t deserve to have a car, except at least I didn’t try to drive drunk, points there, but she said I shouldn’t be hanging out with people who set me off drinking like a moron in the first place, especially since I was only twenty and using a fake ID that was not, in her reckoning, even that convincing to start with.

Except for the disparagement of my ID, which I thought wasn’t bad, I agreed with her.

She said, “I don’t know how you get away with stuff like this and I hope you feel half as stupid as you actually look sitting there white-faced, and by the way, Brian, if you’re going to hurl, that’s what God put windows in cars for.”

Do you know how hard it is to sit there with a hangover while your little sister lectures you, and you suck it up because you owe her big for taking you to your car and saving your GPA from your own ruinous stupidity?

I told Clare, “I have no plans to do that again, guys out downing pitchers of Coors with other guys from school is a bad combination because you sort of try to outdrink each other without looking like you are, and I was putting the beer away pretty good. It’s like the alcohol-based version of whose is bigger.”

She goes, “And whose was bigger, Brian?”

So I said, “Well, not to brag...”

I know I’ve said I made it my mission to look out for Clare, but, yup, that time my sister definitely saved my ass.








Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 24, 2018, 03:15:01 PM
With some encouragement from someone I've been doing a bit of story writing. I won't mention their name in case no one likes it, but if they do send extra karma ER's way. It's a story that has been floating around my head for around 17 years now. I've been putting it down into paper (well, Microsoft Word). The names of some of the characters have been altered a bit, so some people from around here get various cameos and indeed starring roles. Or at least their names do. I've not based the characters themselves on anyone, just stolen their names.

Anyway, here is the introduction and I hope you like it, or at least don't hate it.

Knowledge Burns.
By Alex Corbett.

Prologue: The End.

   I can see my breath on the cold night air. It comes in ragged gasps now. The hole in my side hurts abominably, and I know it won’t be much longer now. I grab a nearby headstone to support me as I fall to my knees on the wet grass. I no longer have the strength to stand and can only lie here hidden for a while in the moonlight shadows. I can’t seem to run or even walk anymore, my body just doesn’t have the strength to obey me. Slumped down, I can hear their voices getting closer and closer. When they find me, they’ll finish what they started and it will all be over.

Everything.

   The right hand side of my chest is somehow both burning hot and freezing cold. A sticky wetness runs down it, staining the tattered remnants of my suit and the grass beneath me. Icy tendrils of mist float on the moonlight. I try to stand, to go back and get Evie, but my legs won’t move. I have to somehow kill them all, get back to the temple… back to Evie. I would need her now, more than I ever had.

   I look down at the body that until recently was a living breathing human being, although I am barely able to comprehend him as such now. It is some small comfort to know that the man who tricked me and led me to this lies dead before me, and to know the pain he endured as he died.

   I think again of Evie. Somehow I must get to her. My head swims with pain as a new wave of nausea envelopes me. There seems to be some cosmic irony in this happening in a graveyard. A cold, moonlit cemetery with none to witness my fate, but the ones who bring it.

   It was Lewis… it all began with Lewis. That night at The Society.



Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: indianasmith on January 24, 2018, 06:12:53 PM
I like it . . . a lot!!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 26, 2018, 11:30:30 AM
Chapter One: An Interview.

   It was an early March night. Rain had been falling constantly for weeks now, but the streets were lit by electric lights. I preferred the old gas lamps, several years gone now alas. Even as a boy I had always had a deep interest in all manner of bygone times which had led onto an abiding interest in what other men referred to as the occult. As I grew into manhood my thirst for the unknown ancient secrets in no way tempered by time. I had joined The Society to further this knowledge, seeking to drink deeply from the well of their expertise. I had thought to learn the forbidden secrets of the universe. Alas I had found its members to be a bunch of dull boors who had no real insights. All except Lewis that is. He was some years my elder, although not yet of middle age. He knew more about what the dark corners of this world in just his little finger than all the other poseurs in here combined. I had carefully cultivated his friendship over the past few years successfully. But whenever I broached the subject with him he would merely tell me “Be careful Trevor. Knowledge given and not earned burns”, then he would smile enigmatically and change the subject.

   If it hadn’t been for Lewis I would have quit The Society long before. Like the other members I would gather around him when he chose to tell his stories. How he’d debunked some haunting, or exposed some charlatan psychic using only his greater knowledge of the mysteries. Every word fascinated me. Indeed the man was considered a terror amongst so called mediums that only the bravest or most foolhardy of them would step foot in our city for fear of being exposed by him, leaving our fair city free of their irksome antics. Except one. An old woman, I assumed was a gypsy. She would often ply her trade in the street outside this very building. Lewis studiously ignored her most of the time except one when she bothered him asking if he wanted his palm read and I had heard him cry out “Away with thee Spurinna!”

When I had questioned him about her he told me she was just a harmless fake trying to eke a few coins and not worthy of his attention. I wondered if that was her name, or some reference I had missed. Whatever the reason I had become so used to her asking to read my fortune every single time I passed her, that she had very much faded into the background like some piece of street furniture.   

   As Lewis entered the room the usual bunch of sycophants crowded around him to welcome him to tonight’s meeting. It was the eleventh of the month, when prospective new members would be vetted. Lewis had expressed an interest in interviewing the prospects. This in itself was noteworthy. Although a Senior member, and thus entitled to attend all selections he had never to the best of my knowledge ever been present at one before, beyond his own initiation, although it would have scarcely have surprised me if he had been admitted without one.

   The crowd around him gradually thinned and seeing an opening made my way over to him bringing him a glass of his favourite brandy. He greeted me warmly, his ice cold eyes glittering. Lewis was a man of strong Nordic features, broad shouldered and tall. In defiance of current fashions, he wore his yellow hair to his shoulders and stood a little over six foot. It was rare not to see him in the style of clothes he wore now, habitually dressed in black from head to toe. All in all he made an impressive figure.

   New applicants were interviewed in what we called the round room, although in truth the room itself was square. It was named after the large table that filled most of the room. It was in the shape of a letter ‘C’, but the ends curved around until they almost touched, leaving but the space for a man to walk into the circle inside with runic symbols inlaid in gold around its edges. The twenty one Seniors sat in their chairs around the outside of the table while prospective new members would be escorted in to stand in the middle while the Seniors quizzed him on the extent of his erudite knowledge. The Seniors would then vote yea or nay. I must admit I felt incredibly curious as to whom, or indeed what had piqued his interest. The round room itself was of an impressive size, although unfortunately decorated in the Rococo style that I find so detestable. It could accommodate the great table easily, despite it being large enough to seat all 21 men around it comfortably. It was hand carved from good English oak and with a lustrous deep polish that made it appear far darker.

   Lewis took a sip from his brandy. “Trevor, you’ve been interested in what I do and what I know for quite some time. How’d you like to be my attendant? I’d like you to see what happens tonight and get you involved. If you are still game for it of course?”

My heart leapt at his words. Not because he’d asked me to be his attendant, which normally was a sign you were being looked at for promotion within The Society to Senior, but because he was offering to let me deeper into his world. I stammered my acceptance, blushing at my awkwardness.

When the Seniors took their leave to start the interviews, I followed behind them into the round room. I hadn’t been in there since my own days as a prospect. Gathered together like this, the Seniors were then known as the Council of Solomon. It was exactly as I remembered, only this time I was no longer impressed by it. Around the room were portraits of all the Seniors of The Society. It has to be said that most of the men in the pictures were still those sat around the table which had told me much of just how ancient this club truly was. As I looked around it for only the second time I felt a twinge of shame that I had once found this place intimidating. The Council took their seats, each of the twenty one, all of whom had an attendant behind them. Attendants were present at the meetings of the Seniors to learn the higher mysteries of The Society, but I had long since learned that they had no such real knowledge to impart. There were six applicants. The first four prospects entered, but Lewis much to my surprise showed no interest in any of them, affecting a somewhat bored air. He asked no questions and abstained from the first two of the votes and the fourth, only voting yea to the third when the others reached a deadlock. When the fifth entered however, Lewis sat bolt upright in his seat ramrod straight. As the man walked to the centre of the room Lewis leaned forward, and steepled his fingers, then watched the newcomer carefully. He was a man was of slightly shorter than average height, no one you would notice in a crowd initially, but on a further inspection he seemed to have some indefinable quality that held my stare. Both his eyes and hair were a dark brown, although the eyes seemed a glittering black from this distance and he had the air of a scholar about him. The instant he had entered the room his eyes had roved around the room, then stopped, looking right in our direction. Throughout the entire time his glance never flickered anywhere else in the room, nor as I was to realise later had he once blinked. He stood there defiantly surrounded by the great table with no sign of the nerves his predecessors had obviously felt. Several Seniors asked him questions. He easily answered them all leaving me in no doubt that he had a much deeper insight to the subject than those quizzing him. All the time he kept his eye’s staring straight, fixedly towards Lewis and myself. Lewis I have no doubt was returning his stare with the same intensity.

The rest of the Council were bringing their questioning to an end and I began to wonder if Lewis was going to say anything at all, when he finally spoke up. He lifted himself out his chair and stood up to his full height, obscuring my view of the applicant until I was able to silently shuffle to one side sufficiently to see him once more.
“Excuse me sir, but what was the name you gave again?” asked Lewis, a slight hint of mocking in his tone.
“Andrew Octavius. Doctor Andrew Octavius actually.”
Lewis seemed to digest this for a few seconds, and then spoke again “And may I enquire as to what your doctorate is in, and where you studied?”
“I am a man of letters in medicine. I studied at Edinburgh, and the Sorbonne.”
For some reason I thought I picked up a slight quiver in his voice, as if his previously imperturbable facade had cracked a little. He seemed excited though rather than nervous.
“I find this a little strange sir. I have not been able to track down any records of an Andrew Octavius at any of those fine institutions, although I did find that a man matching his description had received a diploma from a little known medical college in the land of those ungrateful colonials. Specifically the part known as Massachusetts. Before such institutions were forcibly closed by the American government in 1912 they were of course known for sending out medical doctorates by mail to completely unqualified so called doctors for the payment of a fee. The name of this man was however Robert Blake. As a strange coincidence, a man by the very same man was just last month denied entrance to the Freemasons in this very city. I believe the reasons for this denial were connected to his acquaintance of Crowley.” At the mention of this name a low murmur ran through the assembled Seniors, but Lewis continued, “around the time of his expulsion from that jewel in the crown, India. Sir, I suggest you are a fraud and a fake and I have no hesitation in recommending to this august assembly that you be denied entrance henceforth and immediately.”
I thought I saw a quick flash of anger in the man’s face before he hissed in reply “And what of you sir? A pompous popinjay who knows nothing of the true world that he merely stands on the edge of. Toying with fakers and con-men while pretending to know something of the true arts. I could show you things this very night that would blast your sanity and leave you a drooling lunatic on the floor. Damn your eyes for a mountebank!” As he spoke his voice raised in volume until he shouted the last. He then spat on the floor, turned around and stormed out. I had to stifle a laugh as the old men around the room sat in shock, Powell’s monocle falling from its perch to clatter noisily on the wood and the others with gasps and exclamations of shock and surprise, unaccustomed to such outbursts.
Inclining his head to his fellow Seniors, Lewis spoke with the tones of a conqueror “If you will excuse me gentlemen, I believe my contribution to tonight’s proceedings are now at an end. I wish you all a good night.” He strode from the room, ignoring the questions arising from the room. “Trevor, if you would care to accompany me.” Remembering my role in tonight’s proceedings I made a somewhat undignified scramble after him, almost falling when my foot caught on the chair before me and opened the door for him. I had to almost jog to catch up with Lewis. “You know Trevor, that simply was too easy. He made no attempt to defend himself or deny my accusations. I expected more.”

Stuttering I asked him how he had known all this about the man and why he had come tonight?

“Well that is simple dear boy. I had heard of a cult ran by a mysterious Dr Octavius in this fine city some weeks ago. I have been investigating them since. Indeed I almost missed this gathering tonight. I only just made the train back from Edinburgh where I had been checking his claim to have studied there. My accusation of him lying about the Sorbonne was an educated guess as I had no time for a return trip to France. As to his name, I must confess finding that out was a simply down to” and his voice dropped down to a whisper here as he continued, “breaking and entering into his quarters. I found his passport. The customs stamps on it revealed to me when and where he had been travelling. Thanks to the wonders of the modern telegraph I was able to employ a private detective in the United States to find out more of his history. Believe me my good chap, what I presented before the Seniors tonight was the merest hint of what I’ve uncovered about that man. I feel his presence here tonight however had nothing to do with him wanting to join The Society. I’ll wager 100 guineas that he has been alerted to my investigations and came here tonight to see who his enemy is. Why, his stare never wavered from my direction from entering until her left. His followers espouse some sort of end times philosophy. I have taken a fancy to exposing this chap as a faker, revelling his activities to the authorities and having him banished from our fair shores and indeed the entire empire post haste. I have done this several times before as you well know, but if you are still interested in learning more, I’d like you to accompany me in my investigations this time!”

I could hardly contain my excitement as I gladly agreed to begin what I was sure would be a grand adventure. I could not bring myself to think of this rogue by his real name however. Octavius seemed more appropriate for such a villain.



Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 28, 2018, 05:56:51 AM
Chapter Two: Investigation.

   Lewis arranged to meet me at eight o’clock outside The Society the very next night where I was to accompany him. As usual, the old gypsy was there and I waved her off impatiently as she once more tried to sell me her dubious wares. She returned several times and was proving quite vexing until very much to my relief Lewis arrived.

We were to travel near the docks, and investigate a warehouse that Lewis had learned our so called Dr Octavius had been seen entering frequently. Such an area was a blight on the city, well known for its population of Doxies and Footpads. No respectable gentleman would be caught there, preferring the services of the Toffers available elsewhere for the monied who indulged such appetites. I had expected to take a Hansom, but Lewis told me such arriving in that part of the city by cab would attract most unwelcome attention. It took quite some time before we reached the docklands. Drunken stevedores staggered around, easy pickings for the fallen women who would rob them of every penny as soon as they passed out drunk no doubt. The unlucky ones would find themselves with a case of the French Gout to boot. Unfriendly faces watched us as we strolled through the city, but Lewis seemed to take no notice. He walked as if he knew the way intimately but our top hats and fine suits marked us as strangers to this part of the city.

   Gradually I became aware of footsteps behind us as we walked. No matter where we turned they seemed to stay behind us. A light rain started to fall, drops splattering on the cobblestone streets. I tried to subtly attract Lewis’s attention but either he was so intent in where we were going he was oblivious to all else, or he was ignoring me. Although the street we were walking along was broad and well lit, many dark alley ways branched off between each grey, blocky warehouse. The sky was invisible behind the heavy clouds that continued to rain seemingly without end.

   Finally we turned a sharp corner, Lewis slightly ahead of me. As I turned the corner, he grabbed me and pressed me against the wall, shushing me with one hand, which then reached into his pocket, and turned to face the way we’d just came from. Presently a ill-favoured looking chap hurried round the corner. He was heavyset and wearing the course, black jackets favoured by longshoremen. He had in one hand a wooden billy club. Evidently he had thought to take us from behind with it. His course features showed first surprise at seeing us standing there and then into an evil grin. With his close set piggy eyes and widely gapped teeth the man looked like some hired thug out of a cheap penny dreadful. He spoke, his voice heavy with the rough accent common to the lower classes “Well gent’s. Looks like you be a bit lost. ‘Ow’s about you just hand old ‘Enry here over all your readies and I’ll give you an escort back out o’ these ‘ere docklands?”

   As he spoke he tapped his club in the palm of his other hand. I made to dig out my wallet, but Lewis put his arm out to stop me as he drew something out of his other pocket. I could not see what he was holding, but the man’s face went pale, and he dropped his club from suddenly nerveless fingers before fleeing back around the corner. What strange unholy icon had Lewis showed him to frighten the thug so? In answer to my unasked question Lewis said in a low voice “Webley 38, a souvenir of my army days old boy. Comes in handy now and again.”
   That a man like Lewis would carry a gun surprised me. I had always imagined him being able to deal with any threat no matter how dire with more… obtuse methods. Still the knowledge that he had such a thing was somewhat reassuring given our recent encounter.

   “We are nearly there. I thought it best to make sure we weren’t followed any further. I doubt he was in the employ of Octavius but best to make sure. I’d been trying to lose him for a while and yes, before you ask I was aware of you trying to warn me we were being followed. I didn’t want to let him know that I knew however.”

   Feeling slightly foolish at assuming Lewis would not have picked up on him as well, I fell back instep beside him as we walked on. “We must retrace our steps a little. I’m afraid I took us on a more circuitous route trying to lose that mugger.”

   Rain was starting to drizzle inside my coat and I pulled the collar up. As stylish as they are, top hats did not seem to be the most practical thing in the world, neither for sneaking around unsavoury areas unnoticed or keeping the rain off one’s head. Rather than sticking to the more open streets Lewis took to the narrow alleyways with an assured stride that made me think he knew these backstreets better than any gentleman ought to.

   Finally we arrived at our destination. A large red brick building that looked to me eyes to be indistinguishable from the many others in this part of the city. We approached from what appeared to be the rear of it, where a solid looking door with a heavy padlock stood. I was amazed that Lewis had been able to lead us here so unerringly. Carefully looking around to check no one else was around, he silently slipped through the rain to the door and removing a dark package from an inside pocket, he removed what I gathered to be a lock pick set and went to work on the padlock. I stood, surprised again at this unexpected talent. My belief that I understood who Lewis was seemed to shaken more and more with each passing moment. Seeing my expression Lewis muttered “One does not simply call on the powers of magic and risk one’s soul without good reason. If you can find an easier way to accomplish something, then you should do it. An unwary magician is one who attracts all manner of unholy attention to himself.”

   Slightly abashed I kept quiet while he concentrated on unlocking the door, hoping no wandering constable would come by and find us apparently engaged in nefarious activities. My cloak was getting thoroughly soaked by the rain, and a trickle from the brim of my hat was making its way down my back most unpleasantly.

   Finally after some minutes that felt like hours there were three little clicks barely audible over the rain and I heard a triumphant “Yes!” from Lewis, he deftly removed the lock and, I noticed drew his revolver once more and he slowly opened the door. The squeaking noise it made I felt sure must have alerted anyone who cared to be listening, and my heart started to race, but no one appeared and I heard no alarms being sounded. Almost merging with the shadows, he slipped inside silently motioning me to follow him into the darkness. I swallowed my fear and stepped forward. Inside the first thing that stuck me was the smell. Damp. I could hear voices coming from somewhere within, although distantly and muffled. They sounded rhythmic and repetitive, but I could not make out the language never mind the words.

   From another pocket Lewis withdrew an electric torch. Its narrow beam was enough for us to see we were in some sort of back office. He illuminated a window that looked out over the warehouse floor which again I panicked at the thought that we were advertising our presence, but no one was keeping lookout as far as we could tell. Lewis moved across the office, picking a few random pieces of paper up off desks, but apparently seeing nothing of interest he discarded them. He looked out the office window into the interior of the building, and with a sharp intake of breath said “Trevor, come and see this!”

   Inside the warehouse floor another building had been constructed. Hidden from the world outside. It was squat and square. Extremely plain and as far as I could tell made from wood. I could see no markings to give any clue to its purpose but somehow foreboding radiated from it. Or was that just my nerves? They felt taut. I had never committed any crime before, never mind breaking into somewhere and I couldn’t help would other crimes I might be an accomplice to before the night was over?

   Lewis opened the door to the leading further inside the building, and whispered me to close the door we had entered from. I did so, but wedged a fistful of papers in place to stop the door closing fully should we need to make a fast exit. Lewis walked quietly and quickly over the warehouse floor, flitting from shadowy pillar to pillar effortlessly. I did my best to follow in his footsteps. I kept glancing around, but could see little of the dark recesses of the building. We made a full circuit of the wooden construct and found only one door. As we walked around I could tell the voices we had heard earlier were coming from inside. It was clearer now, some sort of chanting although I still couldn’t recognise either the words or even where in the world the language came from. Given the surprises I had already received tonight, I half expected Lewis to pull a can of oil out of his jacket and burn the edifice down around whoever was inside. Instead we returned to the one opening we had discovered. It was a plain and ordinary looking wooden door. Lewis gripped the handle and very slowly and very carefully turned it, then pushed it inwards, a soft light emanating from inside. We peered inside to make sure no one was on the other side of the door then I walked inside to the next part of the mystery.

   We entered a small room, best described as a cloakroom. Another door led from it further inside, and fortunately was closed. Sea green robes with hoods that covered the wearers face hung from pegs on the walls. The walls themselves did not look wooden from the inside, clad in dark red velvet with brass lanterns lighting the room. Lewis grabbed a robe, and seeing his plan I did likewise, took my hat off and donned one of the robes. The material felt expensive, although I could not identify the material. Smooth to the touch but somehow greasy. The voices seemed to come from the next room and I didn’t need an oracle to tell me what we were going to do next. Lewis cracked the door open and the voices flooded through. The words sounded strange. Nonsensical but yet not made up. I couldn’t see what was through the door, but he seemed confident enough to slowly open the door and slip through. Still nervous, but eager to see what lay beyond I followed.

   The next room was much larger. Indeed it must have occupied most of the wooden building. I could see many figures standing wearing the same type of robes as we had just donned. They all stood facing away from us towards an elaborate stage where a figure stood before an altar. The crowd was watching him and chanting the nonsensical words I had been hearing since we entered the warehouse. The room itself seemed larger than could have possibly been contained inside the construction we had seen from the inside. I put this down to some trick of the design and decorations to make it seem larger than it really was. Red silks covered the wall, and pale golden effigies of all manner of mystical beings unknown to me seemed to protrude on every available surface. The golden metal itself I thought must be some alloy I had not seen before for its unusual colour. The whole thing reminded me very much that disreputable and mysterious part of the city known colloquially as ‘China Town’, although the wingless dragons they favoured would be tame things indeed beside these monsters! The figure on the stage, whom I guessed must not only be a man, but indeed surely that cad Octavius himself. His robe was of the same kind of material and design of those worn by everyone else (and indeed at this point ourselves), but instead of having the hood up he wore some sort of mask. It appeared to be made of the same kind of gold as the statues and gargoyles around the room and designed in a fashion similar to the ancient Greek masks worn in theatrical productions, but with a fringe of tentacles around it’s outside edge. Octavius must be a wealthy man indeed to have financed the whole thing, from the hire of the warehouse, to building this… theatre… temple perhaps?

   My ruminations on the nature of the place were however interrupted quite abruptly. At final shout from the man on the stage all the cultists immediately dropped to the ground and starting writhing there in a most abominable and suggestive fashion. Lewis of course had followed suit with nary a seconds delay. Certainly not one long enough for anyone else to notice. I however was caught somewhat by surprise and stood there. The person on stage spotted me standing there, the lone person on his feet in a sea of supine individuals and cried out “INTRUDER!”

   Lewis moved his head around and on seeing me still standing squeaked in a not entirely manly voice “Oh bugger!” but nevertheless without pausing for a second he leapt to his feet as the others were starting to get up in a confused manner, pulled out his pistol and fired off several shots in the air. He grabbed my arm and propelled me towards the door while my mouth was still open in shock and wondering what to do. He pushed me through the antechamber and out into the wider warehouse before I even began to gather my wits and yelled “RUN YOU FOOL!”

   I needed no further encouragement and took to my heels, thinking as I did so how glad I was that I had left the door wedged open for an easy escape. I ran into the back office and barrelled into the door, sprawling over into the cobblestone road outside while behind me I could hear Lewis firing another couple of shots. Wither he was aiming at any pursuers or again firing into the air I could not tell. I picked myself up, tearing off the stolen robe as I did so and started running, Lewis close on my heels.

   Although I heard sounds of pursuit and the shouts of the searchers rang out through the night it did not take much to lose them in the maze of the cities underbelly. Despite the lack of a chase, my heart was hammering in my chest and I was out of breath. “Too… much sitting… around drinking brandy and… smoking cigars” panted Lewis, as out of breath as I was and still wearing the strange garment.
   “Oh damnation!” I swore.
   “What’s wrong man, have they found us?”
   “No, I left my hat and cloak back in that infernal box.”
   For some reason this struck the pair of us as hilariously funny and the pair of us were in peals of laughter as we walked back to more wholesome parts.



Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: indianasmith on January 28, 2018, 08:48:12 AM
OK, I am intrigued!  Keep writing.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 28, 2018, 09:14:20 AM
Chapter Three: Retaliation.

The next day I had an appointment with my fiancée, Evie. She was a few years younger than me and one of those girls who newspapers labelled a flapper and was a most thoroughly modern young woman, much to my frequent concern and dismay with her views on women’s votes and other such nonsense. I could not deny she is a highly attractive specimen of womanhood and a delightfully entertaining person to be around, however she, like any other woman had no conception of the deeper mysteries that I was so enamoured of, their brains being fundamentally unsuited to the study of such. While it was not quite an arranged marriage both sets of parents had actively encouraged us together. Frankly I found it bothersome and would have much rather have been able to spend more time with my books and research. While I was aware of the charms of the female of our species and the requirement for them in the propagation of our species I just had little interest in them compared to my chosen field. Nevertheless I played the dutiful son, giving our parents the expectation that our linage’s would be continued in due time. It is also of course, expected that a gentleman of polite society must marry after all. She had wanted to go see one of those kinema’s especially one called ‘Moriarty’, starring someone called John Barrymore. I demurred off going to see such a vulgar spectacle instead persuading her we should meet for high tea, pointing out that no one with a name as common as John could ever have any real talent. We met in Harrods for tea, a place I’ve always found a tad vulgar, but they at least have the good taste to keep a table open for my family name and Evie was delighted by the place for some reason. As much as I found her a hindrance to my studies I must admit that if one had to have a distraction, Evie was indeed a fine one and when with her I did not begrudge the time spent away from them. In between such times though I would not look forward to our next encounter with much enthusiasm. I was always careful however to mask such thoughts from Evie in the knowledge that as far as wife’s went she would make a fine one. She was excitable as usual and wanted to go to a dance tonight. Having gotten out of going to the kinema, I could see no way to avoid this equally terrible sounding fate and agreed with a fake smile stuck to my face. I gave her a chaste kiss and we parted ways, her back to her parents’ house and me to my own place where having missed out on any sleep from last night I planned on at least catching up on some before this nights exertions were upon me.

I returned to my house, glad of my parents’ money that allowed me to live in such style and pursue my interests without having to worry about anything as moribund as a common job. I climbed to the top floor of my three story house and entered my master bedroom where I collapsed into my bed and slept deeply, dreaming of strange green dressed men looking for me through the streets of my home city.

I awoke around two-ish. My little black cat Sabbat was sitting on my chest, rubbing his paws on his head. I had my man servant prepare a light meal and prepared myself for the night ahead. While I ate, I then had him lay out one of my less formal suits. I prefer to be properly dressed on all occasions but my best clothes are not well suited to the kind of dancing I would be expected to take part in later. I could not quite bring myself to dress as the other men did for these kind of places and of course it would mean a night of listening to some of that new Jazz music. It hurt my ears and sensibilities to listen to it, but such is the path of love apparently. There would be none of this however once we were wed. I would ensure that Evie was too busy with her household duties to engage in any such disreputable behaviour soon enough. I checked my desktop calendar. It was the Monday the 13th, and then with a heavy sigh got ready.

By six thirty I was waiting at The Candle Club, where I had agreed to meet Evie. As usual she was late (punctuality being something else I would insist on once we were married), so I was not particularly worried when she did not show. When the clock reached half seven however I had, had enough of the screaming trumpets and saxophones. Feeling very put out that Evie had not bothered to show (and not for the first time either) I determined to go to The Society. If Lewis was there I could at least speak to him about what he planned to do next about Octavius’s cult. Obviously he had established a large following in the city already, and as I thought of that it made a sudden shudder run down my spine as I realised the robed and hooded figures could be anyone from the lowliest beggar on the street to a member of the royal family themselves (not that I thought that one of them could ever possibly be mixed up in something like this, heaven forbid!) and we would have no idea, while thanks to Octavius I had no doubt they knew exactly who we were.

As I passed by Spurinna and she started her usual pitch I carelessly tossed a coin in her direction. She almost caught it, but it fell through her grasping fingers and hit the pavement where she dived for it and retrieved it. I had no idea what value coin I had given her, but if I got peace in return it was worth it. I was irritated with Evie first for persuading me to go to such a place, and then not having the good manners to turn up even late. Now I was heading to the club in less than my finest, without even a hat or cloak, my best of which to my chagrin must now be decorating the wardrobe of some ne’er-do-well. That the other members would see me like this was almost intolerable. The doorman opened the door of The Society for me, doubtless raising an eyebrow at my attire, but of course he would never say anything about it to my face.

I entered the main saloon and many looked at me strangely, although the anger writ on my face discouraged any from speaking to me. I spotted Lewis sitting by himself without his normal crowd of tiresome hangers on. He was in a high backed chair, facing the fireplace. The light from the burning wood played over his face lending him a strange and somewhat preternatural aspect. He was staring intently into the fire, watching the orange and red tongues dancing. A glass of his usual brandy was in his left hand and I’d have bet any amount of money the same glass had been sitting in his hand untouched for quite some hours. I walked over to him, not directly but taking a curving route so as to approach him from the front. The movement seemed to snatch him out of his revere and recognition flickered in his yes.

“Ah, Trevor. I did not expect you to be here tonight. Something wrong? You don’t quite look your usual debonair self, and you have a face that looks like you’ve had a terrible day.”

“Just irritated old chap. I had arranged to meet Evie tonight, but she failed to show or let me know she wouldn’t be able to make it. I spent an hour listening to the most infernal racket in a club full of bright young things.” I spoke the last three words with all the venom my contempt for such could muster.
“I have never understood what you see in that insipid girl.”

Unable to give him a good answer I indicted to one of the servers to bring me a glass and downed it in short order. We spent some time discussing our prior nights adventure and what we should do next. Lewis wanted to return to the warehouse at a time when no one else was around and investigate it further. I raised my concerns that perhaps after our visit the warehouse might be more closely watched and guarded, but Lewis assured me that he a way of visiting the region that would guarantee secrecy. He wanted to make certain preparations and advised me that I should look to procuring myself some sort of weapon just in case things went wrong again. Fleeing a second time would not be so easy. We had got lucky and lost them in the maze of buildings while they were surprised and confused. I nodded my assent and bid Lewis a good night, but he chose to accompany me to the door. As we said our goodbyes the rain started up once more. Seeing I had no overcoat, cloak or even a hat with me Lewis insisted that I borrow his. After all, it was only because I had joined him on his adventure that I was now without mine. I refused, but when he insisted eventually I relented. Whereas my own cape was black, Lewis’s stood out being a bright red colour. When he first started wearing it, it caused quite a stir with the fashionistas amongst our fellowship. Lewis however had a habit of doing his own thing regardless, and such was his standing that the rest of the world would make space for him and accept his little foibles.

I bade him farewell as he lit a cigar and stood in the rain, once more apparently sinking deep into his own thoughts. His cape was of an excellent quality for all its garish colouration and I pulled it tight around me for warmth and to keep the rain off.

Spurinna was still standing at the corner of The Society House. I passed her by, glad that the money I had given her earlier bought me peace and quiet from her now. As I went to cross the road, ignoring the dark side street to my left I heard a cry of “That’s ‘im, get ‘im!” and something hit the side of my head hard. I collapsed to the street and felt many painful impacts as if someone was kicking me hard and repeatedly. Somewhere far off it seemed I could hear the screams and wailing of an old women as again and again hard blows pounded against my body. The blow to my head had left me dazed and confused to what was really happening though I could not seem to gather my thoughts enough to muster any kind of defence. I felt more than heard a sharp snapping noise and thought “Oh, I think my rib just broke.” A particularly fierce blow to my right side caused me to fall over from all fours, onto my back and I could see three men, working class types by the looks on them. For some reason they appeared to all be kicking me, although my shock numbed brain was taking this in as if watching it dispassionately in the third person. I looked up at the sky and could see a few stars shining through gaps in the rain and glow of the moon behind the clouds. Such a nice night to die drifted across my mind. I could see one of the thugs had a knife and I wondered casually if he had stabbed me? I certainly didn’t feel as if I had been stabbed. As my consciousness started to fade, I saw a figure I recognised. It was Lewis. Had he come to say goodbye my wretched mind wondered? Did he know these chaps? He floored the man with the knife with a haymaker and then stamped on his arm, breaking it. Even in my state I shuddered a little at the sickening sound as he reached down, grabbed the hand and violently wrenched it to the side. The thug screamed, high pitched. I giggled thinking how he sounded like a woman shrieking at a mouse, and spitting some coppery tasting blood from my mouth as I did so. The second man turned around to face Lewis, his surprised face reminding me a little of the would be mugger from last night. Still bent over, Lewis charged him, ramming his head into the man’s lower chest and forcing the air from his lungs in a mighty whoosh. He collapsed backwards onto the ground trying to catch his breath, winded and wheezing. The third man dropped back a few steps, moving into the classic pugilistic pose favoured by bare knuckle fighters. Lewis matched him, moving crabwise in a circular motion to close with the last man left on his feet around the writhing man with the broken arm. The thug threw a punch aimed at Lewis’s face which he dodged by leaning to one side, then hit the man with a one two combination striking his ribs with his right fist and temple with his left. I thought “Oh that’s nice, I wonder how he learned to fight like that?”, and drifted off into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.



Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 29, 2018, 04:18:23 PM
Chapter Four: Siege.

When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the extreme pain I felt in. My head ached most abominably and every breath I took felt like I was being stuck with red hot pokers. I was struck with a wracking coughing fit that caused innumerable explosions of pain across my chest.

“Trevor old boy! You are awake. You had me worried there!”

Lewis stood over me, dressed as I had last seen him. I sat up, my hand gingerly exploring a large lump in the back of my head. I slurred my words slightly as I asked what happened, then as I did so the memories came running back to me. The three men in the street!

   “Relax”, said Lewis “The police arrived shortly after you passed out. All three of them are currently locked up behind bars. Hired thugs I daresay. They must have saw you wearing my cloak and thought you were me. Whatever Octavius is up to, he most certainly wants us off his trail.”

“So I am beginning to see.” I replied ruefully.

“If you have had enough old boy, I’d understand if you wanted nothing more to do with this.” I realised Lewis was offering me an honourable way out, but I refused. I was more determined than ever to see this through. “Where ever did you learn to fight like that?” I asked.

“I boxed a little at school, and during the war I managed to become the regimental boxing champion. It’s stood me in good stead once or twice through the years. Those men were no more than hired heavies I suspect, and no doubt by the time our good law enforcers are finished with them, the beating they took off me will seem like naught but a pleasant memory. Enough of them though. As you see your chest is bound. I think they cracked a few ribs. You are badly bruised under those bandages as if your face and of course you have a large lump in the back of your head, but I’ve seen worse. You’ll be back on your feet in the morning, although I’d wager you’ll not be dancing with Evie for a week or two.”

Evie… I remembered the missed date, and wondered where she was.

“If you have no objections old boy, I’ll stay here tonight and keep an eye on you. I’m sure you’ll be fine but just to stay on the safe side.”

“Of course”, I muttered “I’ll have my man prepare a room for you.”

“No need to put yourself to any trouble. He has long since went home for the night. It’s past midnight. I’ll find a blanket and sleep on a couch for the night.”
As he said this I felt the irresistible pull of Morpheus on me again and drifted back into the comforting arms of sleep.

I awoke again at some strange hour in the morning. A dim light came through the window, not the yellow of a bright dawn, or the dull grey of another cloudy morning. It was a strange low white. I gingerly stood up, mindful of my aches and pains, which had at least abated somewhat from earlier. I wondered if Lewis had used some supranatural form of healing on me?

Hobbling over to the window, I looked out. A thick mist had descended and I could not even see the houses on the other side of the street. The mist itself seemed strangely luminescent, unlike the orangey pea soupers I was used to seeing. My eyes happened to glance downwards, and it noticed it was strange that I could see the street three floors down. With a sudden start I noticed that in the street itself were a dozen or more figures stood just outside my very house, all of them wearing those same green robes I had saw in the temple. I turned quickly to go awaken Lewis, then stopped as waves of pain and nausea washed over me. I leant heavily on a nearby table, caught my breath and then moved off again. Luckily I did not have to look far, as my house was a veritable maze of rooms having been added to and expanded over the years long before I moved into it. He was sleeping on a divan just outside my room, his gun at his side. I carefully woke him up so as to not find a bullet wound to add to my injuries. I whispered to him what was happening and immediately he was alert and awake, swing his legs over to get up and moving to my room to look out the window.

“I am sorry Trevor, I thought by coming here I would help keep you safe but I appear to have put you in mortal dan....”

As he spoke, he was interrupted by a loud crash. “They are breaking down the door!” I exclaimed.

“Quick Trevor, grab those two lamps and follow me.” He pointed to a pair of bedside oil lamps and ran to the head of the staircase while I collected them. “Are you insured old boy?”

Before I could answer, he took a box of matches out, lit both lamps and then as the first cultist appeared at the bottom of the stairs he launched the first lamp. It crashed to the floor at the figures feet and almost instantly a wreath of flames was climbing up his robe. The man screamed a most unholy sound and tried to run in a panic, bouncing off other walls and disappearing from our view. I hoped he would run into his companions and ignite them too. Certainly my carpet was now aflame too and it had not escaped me that we were now trapped upstairs. Then it also occurred to me that this was my house these men had broken into and that Lewis was trying to burn it down! A shot rang out, and I guessed that Lewis was now firing his pistol. Then I noticed Lewis was preparing the other lamp and the invaders were firing up at us. I decided to hell with the house, grabbed the lit lamp from Lewis and threw it so it would break on the landing below where they were standing. “Good man Trevor. Now let’s find a way out of here before it becomes an inferno. Where is your attic?”

I led the way down the hallway and opened a door at the end. Behind it a set of rickety wooden steps led upwards. We climbed up them, my body protesting at even this mild exercise. My brain however had the casting vote and decided it was moving. I went up first and Lewis followed, bolting the door behind us when he noticed it had a solid iron bolt on it. The attic had a skylight and on seeing it, I suddenly had a very sinking feeling, one that was confirmed as Lewis ran over to the window, opened it up and climbed out. He motioned me to follow.

With an expression which must have announced my disbelief to undiscovered tribes in darkest Africa I nonetheless walked over to the window and tried to lift myself up and out the window.

As I lie here in the shadows of the graveyard, I laugh as I think of how painful I thought that was. The laugh comes out as a liquid gurgle. I am sure my throat is no longer quite working the way it should. Oh, how innocent I was then, yet here I lie only one night later in much greater agony that I could have ever imagined before. Still I don't think it would have provided any comfort to me to know that an even greater pain was lying ahead. I had thought my ribs were broken after the beating I took outside The Society. Given I can see them now sticking through my skin I have no doubt of it now.

There! One of them has spotted to me and the burned out shell that used to be a man beside me. He shouts to the others. Not long now… Oh but how those few moments seem to stretch out for an eternity of agony. I sink back into my recollections, wondering if I will have time to finish them. When they do find me though, I can assure you things would not go exactly as they expected.

Gasping with pain I heaved myself up and over the window ledge. The feeling as I pulled my protesting body over the wooden frame was overpowering, and but for Lewis taking a firm grip of me I am sure I’d have lost my grip and slipped down to crash to the street below. Surely I was meant for greater things than such an ignoble death?

Outside the heavy mist still lay like a suffocating blanket over the city and I could see nothing beyond a few feet. Inch by inch, lying on our bellies we made our way down to the cast iron guttering (and oh how every movement had ached, but we dared not moved faster on the rain slicked tiles). Our feet found purchase on them as we lay on the tiled roof and made our way over. I could hear pounding coming from inside the house. Evidently the raiders had gotten past the fire on the stairs and were now trying to get through the heavily barred door. Fortunately the door was of an older type and at least two inches thick, with a correspondingly heavy bolt. I had no fear of them getting through it any time soon.

I followed Lewis having no real idea of where we were going. I assumed he meant to break the skylight of the neighbouring house and escape that way. Like so many things about my friend I was to find my assumption proven wrong. He hissed “My feet are at the downspout. We must climb down it to the street below, but be quick and careful. It is not designed to take this much weight.”

My eyes practically bulged out of my head at that thought. I watched as he slowly made his way to the backwards. His feet and legs disappearing over the edge, then followed by his torso as his hands gripped the iron pipe that would be our salvation or damnation depending on wither it held or not.
I made my way to where Lewis had vanished and copying him, I started to edge my way over, all the time being acutely aware of the distance to the street below. A voice in my head treacherously informed me that I’d most likely land on the spiked railing around the front of my house rather than be killed by an impact with the street. I did not thank it for that thought.

Not being as agile or unwounded as Lewis it took me a little more time to get over the edge than he did. Of course my body screamed at this unused to torment and my body betrayed me a further time by involuntarily looking down at the ground. Lewis was already more than half way down the pipe, shimmying down at quite a rapid pace that I would be alas unable to match. Hand over hand I made my way back to the safety of mother earth. My arms strained and my chest felt like it was being ripped apart by the exertion, but on the other hand I was keenly aware that the alternative was decidedly more unpalatable to me. It was with some gratitude that I reached the ground though. Lewis bade me sit a moment and recover while he leapt over my fence with ease then stood in front of my door, less than six feet from it. I could see that flames had already spread throughout my house, the flickering flames lighting up the strange mist from all my front windows. He stood opposite from my front door. Not for the first time this night I wondered what the hell he was doing?

One of the cultists came running out my broken door, Lewis raised his revolver and aimed it. I expected him to demand the man’s surrender, but an infinitely loud BANG rent the night air, and the man dropped like a stone. A second, third, fourth and fifth retort followed as the rest of the survivors of the inferno that had quickly taken hold tried to escape. I was dumbfounded that Lewis had stood there like a statue with no emotion showing on his face and gun down five men in cold blood like that, but the proof was in front of my (somewhat swollen and blackened) eyes. “Quick, we need to get out of here now in case any more are around. We’ll contact the police later and explain it all. After you were attacked earlier I have no doubt they will understand.”

We half walked, half ran through that strange fog. Sounds seem to come from every direction and at any moment I expected more robed figures to lunge out of it at us. Evidently Lewis shared my concern, as while he helped support me as we lumbered to his lodgings he took the time to reload his deadly gun.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on January 29, 2018, 05:18:11 PM
Well done, Alex! Keep it up.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 30, 2018, 01:54:21 AM
Chapter Five: Preparation.

Despite my condition and the events of the night, I was eager to actually see where Lewis actually lived. He liked his privacy and no one else in The Society seemed to have any real idea what part of the city he stayed in never mind the actual address. If there had been a large gothic castle in London I would have supposed that was his abode.

I was not sure what to expect, but an ordinary grey stone building was most assuredly not on my list. As I entered half walked, half carried through the door, I saw a hallway that could have been any one of thousands throughout the city. As if sensing my disappointment, he gave me a half smile and said “The good stuff is up the stairs. You can peruse it at your leisure when you are healed.”

I gave a weak smile as he helped me into his parlour where I collapsed into a comfortable chair. Lewis left the room to go find some blankets, but I was fast asleep once more before he returned.

I was now getting used to waking in pain and this day was to be no exception. I looked around, taking more notice than before of the room I was in. Indeed it did look like any other such room until you looked a little closer. A small bookcase full of leather bound books stood against one wall, much as they would in any gentleman’s study. Further inspection however revealed titles that no ordinary man would have in his possession. ‘The Golden Bough’ was perhaps the most ordinary title amongst them. Where another man might have knick-knacks around his room from his travels, all Lewis’s seemed to be icons of religious significance, some I knew others I could barely guess at.
I started a little as Lewis entered the room and dropped the trinket I was examining, a brownish thing, dried up and shrivelled. “Ah, the little finger of an African witch doctor. I got that back in ’09. Interesting tale I must tell you about some time. I thought I heard you up and moving about. I have been making preparations. Tonight, we must try to stop Octavius. Whatever he has planned must be at an advanced stage for him to risk such an open attack on us and the interest the authorities will now have. Do you feel up to finishing this?”

“I am not sure I could fight an army”, I replied ruefully, “but I am fit enough to walk, yes and run if it is needed.”

“Good man. I knew there was something special about you.”

My spirits lifted at his confidence in me.

“I guessed you had no time to procure yourself a gun, so here take mine.”

He pressed his revolver into my hand. It felt surprisingly heavy. Perhaps that was as it should be. After all it carried the weight of the five souls I had seen him shoot last night… and perhaps more before that? I felt dirty. My clothes were still those I had been wearing when I had been attacked outside The Society and bore many rips. When I mentioned this to Lewis he said it was just as well for where we were going it was just as well to wear clothes whose destruction would not trouble me overly. I stood up, my body still protesting but not as much as I had expected. I was willing to bet under my clothes though much of my skin would be covered is sickly looking bruises. I asked Lewis for a pen and paper to write a letter to Evie. Should we both disappear after the nights adventures I should not want her to think I had simply decided to leave her without a word. I did not go into great detail of why, only that I was engaged in some business of great import and if I was not seen again then it was not for want of feelings about her. I doubted she would truly understand, the minds of women being given to too many flights of fancy and feverish imaginings of all sorts, but it might bring her some comfort. I spent much of the rest of the day resting, and practising with his revolver once Lewis set up an improvised shooting range in his basement. I was by no means a crack shot by the end of the day, but I had gotten used to its recoil. I was not however sure that I could point it at a man and kill him without a second thought the way Lewis had, but perhaps I could scare a few if the need came. Lewis had procured himself a replacement weapon from his collection of oddments. It was a sword cane, with a silver head in the shape of a wolf. He gave it some practise swishes to get used to its weight and feel. A hearty meal had been prepared for us although I saw no sign of any others in the house. I assume there must have been some somewhere, as Lewis had been with me most of the day and besides, what gentlemen would denigrate himself so as to prepare his own meals?

The rest of the day passed in such a manner. By the time the night fell I felt ready and as excited as I had on the night that Lewis first asked me to join him.
I stood, taken aback for a second. That night although only four days ago seemed so ancient, so long ago… Almost as if it was another man’s life entirely. Curious. I was also coming to realise that Evie meant much more to me than I had hitherto realised and as I wrote my note to her I felt a curiously warm feeling in my chest.

After we ate, Lewis disappeared upstairs for a little while, coming down dressed as, dare I say it? A commoner. A mixture of dark grey and black clothing complete with a cloth cap. I went to go up from the basement when he stopped me. “Oh no old boy, tonight’s fun starts here.”

My quizzical expression faded into one of shock and more than a little horror as Lewis retrieved a crowbar and used it lever up a heavy iron grating in the floor. “Tonight, we travel by sewer!”


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 30, 2018, 02:11:39 PM
Aaand at last the final chapter. And I don't mean that in a Friday the 13th or Saw kind of final way.

Chapter Six: Revelation.


Lewis handed me a pair of gloves and told me to wear them rather than risking touching anything down there with my bare hands and bade me watch out for sewer rats. He climbed down a later and I heard a small splash as he reached the bottom. Urgh, a noisome stench was already making its way into my nostrils and I did not relish the idea of travelling through such a place. Nevertheless my course was set, where ever it might take me. I tied a handkerchief around my mouth and nose in the hope the lavender water it was washed in would mitigate the worst of the smell.

Cautiously I climbed down the hand grips into the tunnels below. “Welcome to London beneath Trevor. A chap can get to anywhere in the city from here. Why I’d wager if you took a mind to it one could even rob the Bank of England blind from down here and not be discovered for weeks. Bless Queen Victoria for having these built.”

Somehow I did not feel quite as grateful to our previous monarch for these man made caves as my companion was.
He headed off in what to me could well have been a random direction. I resolved to keep close to him as I had no wish to get lost in this underground maze and since he had the only electric torch, without Lewis I would have nothing to light my way.

“Be glad old boy that the rain while constant has been fairly light, or we’d been wading through this lot waist deep.” Once more it seemed as if Lewis was able to read my thoughts.

Lewis seemed just as at ease here as he was when we explored the warehouse district, or indeed as he had on any night at The Society. I began to wonder if there were any circumstances that he would find himself uncomfortable.

For seemingly endless miles we trekked while just a few feet above us life continued much as it had for hundreds of years. I felt somewhat claustrophobic though and could not but help to wonder what would become of us should the sewers suffer an unfortunate collapse. Hearing the occasional squeak that I attributed to rats, although I never saw even a single one did not help me feel any better. Indeed my head seemed to swim in a similar fashion to the one time I had overindulged in the fruits of the vine. When I awoke the next day the axis the world span on apparently had settled on me for the room would not stop spinning and I was endlessly sick all day.

I am shaken out of my memories and am forced back to the present. More cultist’s have arrived, enough to carry me back from this sailors graveyard, back to the temple. Six of them stand around me and wordlessly they lift me up onto their shoulders. I am still losing blood and have no strength left to resist. They are oddly gentle with me, caring almost. My third and final trip to their hall of worship to all that is unclean. Soon I’ll be seeing my old friends and family once again. That thought is quite bitter and catches in my ruined throat. My breath comes is wheezes and gasps. I wonder if my splintered ribs have pierced my lungs? Every breath is like drinking liquid fire. They will pay for this, all of them. I promise myself that I will take revenge on every one of them, and I’ll make it hurt too. What had happened back in the graveyard was merely the first of many.

Somehow though my mind seemed determined to retrace the steps that brought me here, as if it could see where it had all went wrong and could somehow change that one moment and alter how it all turned out. My mind reaches back to that time, not even an hour ago before it all changed…

Lewis stopped at the base of an exit from the sewer. He looked up and turned his torch off biding me to be quiet and make no noise. In the darkness I could hear him moving. I assumed he was climbing up the handholds to peek through the grills of the manhole cover to check if the coast was clear. I then heard the grinding of metal on stone and a whispered hiss of “It’s all clear. Come on up.”

He shone the light down so I could see what I was doing. Of course I made the mistake of looking straight up at the beam and had lights dancing in my eyes for the next few minutes. On exiting the manhole I realised we had come up right inside the very warehouse he had been looking for. By God, the man’s sense of direction was incredible. We’d covered half the city underground and came up exactly where he meant to be. The wooden structure was still there just as I remembered. We carefully crept over to the door, my fingers running over the comforting feel of the cold gun in my jacket pocket. There were no sounds of chanting coming from inside this time. It sounded as if just as planned we had found a time when none of its worshippers would be present. As we reached the door, the entire room was suddenly plunged into bright, bright light. I put my hand up to shade my eyes, still with an after image from the lantern. On the second story of the warehouse was a balcony over the offices and a walkway around the edge of the main floor. Cultists, hundreds of them! They lined the balcony and walkway looking down at us. The figure in the elaborate mask was standing in the middle of the balcony and addressed us in a strangely reverential tone. “Welcome sir, you had no need to come skulking in like some thief in the night. You would have been welcomed with open arms. After all, without you we could not possibly complete tonight’s ceremony. If only I had been told you were going to be here there would have been no need for me to prepare my little surprise that was designed to bring you to us.”

Other than recognising the voice as being Octavius’s I was somewhat taken aback by this turn of events but Lewis, his mind operating like lightning said quickly “They must have guards outside! Quick in the door and we’ll hold them off. Use the gun man!”

From out of the shadows, behind pillars and the sides of the temple more cultists appeared, slowly walking towards them. I shrieked, pulled out the gun and fired it at the mass of people slowly walking towards us. The first bullet took someone in the head. I could not see the wound from the front, but the back of his head exploded, splattering those around him with blood, then his body collapsed on the ground. I stood open mouthed for a second in shock at my actions but the crowd continued to close in on us. I shrieked again and emptied the remaining five bullets into them. At this range I could hardly miss and although more bodies fell, it did not stop them coming. Lewis grabbed me by my coat and pulled me into the antechamber with him, slamming the door shut. He took the gun from my trembling hand, reloaded it and gave me it back. “Good man Trevor. We are not done yet. We’ll hold them off in here. Kill enough of them and they are bound to break, or if not there is bound to be some secret way of escaping from this place!”

He started piling the benches from around the room behind the door. “Not much of a barricade, but it will slow them down. Thumps against the door told us they were trying to break it down. I pointed the gun at the door and fired blindly. I must have hit someone, they were too tightly packed not to, but I never heard any cries of pain. Unfortunately in our panic and surprise we had overlooked one vitally important thing.
There were two doors to this room.

The inner door opened and more cultist began to flood in. My gun was empty, but I grabbed the barrel to use it as a club, only to find the barrel painfully hot to the touch and dropped it. Lewis whipped out his sword cane and took the first through the door in the throat, then slashed another across the face, his hood parting to reveal a blood stained face, blood pouring from a gash running from his eyebrow to his chin, then his sword cane was knocked out his hand and he resorted to his fists. I managed to knock a couple down. They seemed determined to take us alive and conscious, and the press of numbers was pushing us back. More and more got into the room. I was knocked to the floor and the weight of several others held me down as helpless. Lewis lasted a few moments longer until he at last was also pinned down.

We were prisoners of Octavius and I suddenly was very glad that I had wrote that good bye letter to Evie.

We were manhandled into the main room and dragged up on stage. A cold shock spread through me as I realised the letter I had written to Evie would now never even be read by her. I now knew why she hadn’t turned up for our date at the jazz club. She lay on top of the altar, her hands and feet bound securely to it and a gag stuffed in her mouth. Undoubtedly this was what that fiend had meant went he spoke of a surprise to bring us here. Both myself and Lewis renewed our struggling on seeing her but even if we won our freedom we’d simply have been overwhelmed again. The whole time since Octavius has spoken not one of the cultists had made any noise, no threats or cries of pain. Strong men held our arms securely and seeing as it was of no use to wear myself out any further I calmed down, looking for a better chance to escape. We were bodily dragged until we stood before the altar. Poor Evie stared up at me, her eyes filled with tears and panic begging me to rescue her.

The crowd of cultists around us parted creating a clear path back to the doorway, and Octavius walked into the room, slowly clapping. “Well, well, this has went so much better than I expected. If I had sat and planned all this out, I couldn’t have made it happen any easier. I must thank you, if it hadn’t been for your interference two decades of planning might have went awry. So much could have went wrong, but you kept it on track quite masterfully.”
Lewis spat “What do you plan on doing with us you blackguard?”

Octavius raised an eyebrow “With you? Why nothing. But then you were never important to my plan. It was dearest Trevor we needed. And you brought him right to us. I must say it was a remarkable stroke of fortune that you chose him to accompany you into that interview. I needed to see him to be sure he was the right one and everything had went as planned. We had our people watching him. His whole life and longer in fact. Twas not you I was staring at that night at your infantile Society, but the man behind you!”

“But… but…” For the first time Lewis seemed speechless and lost. “You almost killed him twice.”

He turned his intense stare on me and sighed “Yes, I am afraid I must apologise for that. Overzealous minions I am afraid. I can assure you my lord, that the men responsible have been appropriately punished. Did you think that the men were looking for you Lewis? That I would employ men who would be confused by two men switching cloaks?”

As he said the last he whipped one of the red silk drapes back, revealing three bodies hanging from hooks built into the ceiling. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped in shock. Each of them had been skinned from head to toe. “It was not hard to bribe the police into letting them go. I promise you they suffered as few men before them ever had before they died and did not die until every inch of their flesh had been flayed from their quivering bodies. I have kept the skins as a reminder to the others not to get quite so… ah hah enthusiastic when carrying out my orders. I would have punished the men who attacked your house similarly, but you already dealt with them… my lord.”

“STOP CALLING ME YOUR LORD”, I screamed.

“But you are… my lord. You are the one promised to usher in the end of the world and promote us all to new immortal forms. It is why we have done all this. Perhaps though I am not the one to tell this story.”

He glanced down at Evie. Surely she wasn’t part of this.

“Since you have already had one touching reunion, perhaps we should have some more. Everyone, remove your hoods.”

I was not sure that my heart could take another shock, as the cultists took their hoods down. I gasped as I recognised many of them. My bank manager, some of my private tutors… people whose faces I recognised but couldn’t put a name to, even Powell, the senior who had dropped his monocle not four nights ago was here. The last two to unmask were the biggest shock of all. There stood my mother and father!

My father climbed up onto the stage, an strangely kind look on his face. “You see son, you were conceived in a special ritual one Walpurgisnicht and you were dedicated at that moment to those who wait in the times between moments. It was always intended that your body would be the gate that our master would re-enter the world through. And of course in gratitude, we will all be richly rewarded.”

“Father!” I gasped. Even given my current predicament no man likes to hear his parents tell him of how he came to be.

“For what is about to happen son, I am sorry. I cannot imagine it will be a pleasant experience, but know that me and your mother have always loved you and will be here for you always afterwards.” His hand brushed my ruffled and messy pair in a very affectionate gesture. My mind whirled with shock and terror. I could barely comprehend what was happening. My entire existence was some sort of sham? And what was Evie’s part in this? Seeing me staring at her, Octavius spoke again “Do not worry about that one. She was just something to keep you in the country. We were worried you might decide to continue your studies overseas. She served her purpose admirably in keeping you close, but had no knowledge of us. I think you shot her father outside, curiously enough. I don’t see him in here now.”

At this Evie let out a stifled sob and quivered trying fruitlessly to break free of her bonds.

“Now as much as I enjoy a good chat, we have a god to summon and you have a universe to consume, alas we do not have all night.”

He started chanting in more of the unknown language we had heard on our previous visit, each line repeated by the massed throng around us. As he started speaking it felt as if red hot wires were suddenly burning through my brain. My body arched violently as I was shook with uncontrollable spasms. The words sounded maddening and I begged them to stop, I wanted the sweet release of death like nothing else I had ever wanted before, but the words continued unceasingly, echoing strangely in my head. I started to understand the words in my head and screamed even more as I came to understand their meaning and the horrible fate that awaited me. My throat was raw with the screams, which increased in pitch as my body was struck with increasingly violent jerks. Reason left me then and I howled with raw pain and emotion unable to articulate words any longer. My right side where my ribs were cracked, suddenly burst open, showering blood and gore over the crowd. They raised their hands in adulation as my life sprayed out of my body. I could see the broken ends of my ribs protruding from my body and oh my sweet God, the pain! Why couldn’t I just die. I could see the horrified expression on Lewis’s face which must have matched mine as from the hole in my side a gnarled lumped… something that was a cross between an arm and a crabs claw poked it was out into the unholy air. My howls and screams became a horrid gurgle. I somehow registered that Evie had passed out and would be spared seeing whatever happened to me next. My spasms had become so powerful that the men could no longer hold me and I threw them through the air like so much confetti. I could not form the thoughts required to use this to escape, or even control my body enough. I felt myself growing taller, everyone around me shrinking. The cultists were all staring at me in awe, becoming their god made flesh. My vision faded as my eyes rotted in their sockets and fell as so much dust, but I had other ways now of perceiving the world around me now. I could see the thoughts and desires of all those around me. All their petty hopes and dreams. Pathetic mortals. The arrogance of the such in thinking they could summon me and command me to end the world for them as if such things would ever run on a mortal schedule. I saw Evie and saw that she had actually truly loved me and it was not marrying for me for money, or because she had been manipulated. She was an innocent pawn in their scheme. Then of course I looked at Lewis. Not just at him, not even into his mind, but deeper in a way no human could ever comprehend.

And I understood.

Absolutely everything. All the secrets of the universe were finally mine. And I knew that Lewis was as big as fraud as anyone in The Society. He just made it look good. All the frauds he had exposed were exactly that. He had never knew anything of the deeper truths or experienced anything beyond charlatans. It was ironic that he had spent so much time exposing others who were exactly the same as him.

What had unfolded in front of his eyes had been too much for his mind and it had snapped. With a shriek and the strength of a madman he broke free of the men holding him, whose attention was on me as my body broke and reformed. Those on the floor were prostrate on their knees, chanting my praises, or like Lewis had not been strong enough to withstand my presence and were dribbling and drooling on the floor. Lewis fled gibbering to the exit and I lumbered after him, not caring when I stood on the head of one of my worshippers, splattering it open like an overripe grapefruit. My other foot crushed the chest of another, unfortunate enough to be lying where I stood. I could feel their life force leaving their body and greedily I absorbed it. I could no longer quite fit through the door so I smashed it down and followed Lewis outside. He fled away from my new wondrous form into the night still shouting unintelligibly. I crashed through the wall following him trying to call out his name mockingly, but my throat was changing too and the words sounded like the grating together of pebbles in my ears. He ran into the gates of a seaman’s graveyard, falling on the ground as he rebounded off them, leapt back up and scrabbled over them. I followed, tearing the wrought iron gates from their hinges with a single swipe of my arm. I was closing in on him with every step until somewhere in the middle of the necropolis’s I caught up with him. My new arm grasped him and lifted him up turning him around to see me as my face split in twain and my new glorious visage was presented to him. Still he gibbered and screamed incoherently, beating at me futilely with his fists. In a moment I decided what was appropriate. He had after all, always told me that knowledge unearned burned. It would be a last kindness to show him just how true that was. I touched his head with one finger and poured all my knowledge into his head. The secrets that lay beyond science, the blasphemous far corners of the universe where all laws of nature and physics were but playthings to the monstrous beings that dwelt there… my kin.

I like to think in those last few seconds as his eyeballs melted and his flesh burned he understood and was grateful for my gift. Still as his body burst into flames and I dropped him on the ground I took his soul as it fled his body. Perhaps some time I will stop torturing it enough throughout the eternities long enough to ask him? My body continued to be wracked by change. Now it shrank and the strength fled me. I had exhausted my power for the moment, although with time they would grow and this would be as nothing to me. I could feel that my body needed time and space to finish altering itself into a suitable vessel.

You know the next part of the story. How the cultist found me and were carrying me back reverentially to the temple. That would be a suitable place for me to enter a cocoon and finish becoming.

Before then of course, I would kill them all for their arrogance. One does not simply summon a god to do ones bidding and they would pay for it. As a small mercy it would be fast, but in those moments they would know pain greater than even I had sustained. Then after I had killed them as I said earlier I would need Evie more than ever. After all, changing into a new form is an exhausting experience and her body and soul would sustain me through it as I consumed her.

What woman could do more for her man?



Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 30, 2018, 02:13:25 PM
Now, do I start posting up my next story yet or not? On the one hand I think it is funny, on the other hand it could be a bit controversial. Hmm, decisions, decisions.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on January 30, 2018, 02:55:18 PM
Now, do I start posting up my next story yet or not? On the one hand I think it is funny, on the other hand it could be a bit controversial. Hmm, decisions, decisions.
You know I for one shrink away from controversies.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 30, 2018, 03:22:19 PM
Now, do I start posting up my next story yet or not? On the one hand I think it is funny, on the other hand it could be a bit controversial. Hmm, decisions, decisions.
You know I for one shrink away from controversies.

If it helps any I did write it using a pseudonym.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 30, 2018, 04:01:57 PM
Ok, just for you ER, here is the first page.

GODSMACKDOWN!
By John Paul Pope.

It was going to be a good night. I could feel the electricity in the air, and not just because we had at least two gods of lightning in here.

In fact they were half of the opening match.

Jesus (special finisher chair shot, being a carpenter he made those chairs himself too, real expert craftsman. Technically using a chair was illegal, but the crowd loved it so we always let it slide) was sitting in the corner, taping up his hands. Those holes in the palms had to be a b***h in the ring. Still the man had been the hard-core champion for nearly two thousand years. Gotta give a scrawny man like him who could take that sort of punishment loads o’ kudos. Still he'd bulked up a lot since The Ultimate Warrior got here and signed up as his workout partner. Tonight was his big shot at getting the title back. Mohammad (finishing move, the Jiheadbutt) had been doing his heel shtick for months now, working the crowd up into a fever pitch against him and tonight was the big night, headline match. JC Vs Mohammad – Hard-core Hell In The Cell!

Thor and Zeus (both used the same what was basically the same finisher, The Fist Of Thor or Zeus depending on who was doing the punching) passed me by on the way to the ring, high fiving each other. Sparks of electricity danced between their hands. Say what you like about the old timers being old fashioned and not having modern flashy moves, but I respect the classics. I wished them luck. Odin (finisher Hanging On The Tree Of Knowledge – submission hold), was going to be the outside ring manager for the pair. They were up against Osiris (finisher, Planting The Harvest, a neat twist of a pile driver) and Anubis (finisher Scales Of Judgement, a custom backbreaker). Osiris had never quite been the same after a handicap match against his son Set and I think he lost his balls after it. I was never a close a follower of theirs. Found their animal heads a bit off putting and it limited their chances for promo slots and interviews, but still it was a great gimmick.

Jesus is a second generation wrestler. His dad (finisher The 10 Plagues, a series of submission holds. In fact the last time I’d saw him pull all ten was on the Egyptians and they didn’t submit until the last one. Talk about tough!) was big in the ring. In fact they used to be part of a three man tag team called the Holy Trinity, JC, God and the Holy Ghost. You didn’t see much of the Ghost around now though. Then again, he is invisible so I guess you wouldn’t. For the longest time I was amazed at how much like God, the actor Charlton Heston had looked like. Of course everyone has to change gimmick every so often to keep the fans interested and these days a different actor looked just like him. Think Morgan Freeman, only with muscles.
 
Ooh, showtime. The Celestial Choir started their singing “Ooooh oooh oooh oooh wooow wooow, THUNDER!” doing a damn fine imitation of AC/DC and ‘The Gods Of Thunder’ walked out. I could hear the pyrotechnics kicking in and the incredible pop from the crowd. Of course when you have the power of the heavens at your command you can supply your own pyro’s and damn impressive they were too. I liked to stay backstage for their intro though. More than once half the audience had been fried accidently with all the lightning flying around. They’d learned a lot from that guy from The Legion Of Doom when he’d gotten up here about being showmen. Of course their natural talent helped. There was a bit of confusion though when their opponents went to come out and Gangnam Style was played instead of their usual theme song, Walk Like An Egyptian. Still the guys were game and did their best to dance along comically, slightly at odds with their team name (AnNILEation!).

I love working with pro’s. Nothing sets them back, they just take things like this in their stride. Decided it was time to head ring side. I waved to Lucifer waiting to go out and do his referee thing. Poor guy gets a bad rap from all the fans just because God had a beef with him about some decisions he’s called in the past. I mean I’ve watched the tapes and only one third of his decisions went against the guy, the other two third were solidly in his camp. I guess some guys just really hold a grudge. Still, he is a pro and he knows it’s all just show biz. What a trooper. He said it looks like tonight is going to break records and I had to agree, this was going to be a truly special edition of GODSMACKDOWN!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 30, 2018, 04:07:29 PM
! No longer available (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l482T0yNkeo#)


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 30, 2018, 04:30:55 PM
Page 2.

Lucifer walked down to the ring, ignoring the chorus of boos from the crowd. He knows he isn’t the attraction here and he doesn’t try to milk it. Like I said, the old guys are really classy. As he enters the ring all four wrestlers eye him up. He issues his instructions and I ring the bell.

Zeus starts off with Anubis. The Greek has the advantage in sheer muscle and shows it, dominating the match from the start. He does some big power moves and the crowd loves it. The old ones are great to open a show with, always gets the audience up on their feet, even if they are a bit past it. The match turns after Zeus tags in Thor though. Loki was hiding beneath the ring, comes out and trips up his brother. Thor gets trapped in AnNILEation’s corner and the pair start double teaming him. Both do their finishers on him and he staggers around the ring then collapses to the mat. The crowd are on their feet roaring for him to get up. Osiris goes up to the top rope for a diving head-butt, and at the last second Thor rolls out the way and manages to tag Zeus. Zeus runs in and clears house. They grab Osiris and he gets a Fist Of Zeus AND a Fist Of Thor at the same time and it’s all over. Lucifer does the one two three count and raises The Gods Of Thunder’s hands in victory.

I gotta tell you, I wouldn’t want to be double fisted by those guys.

Next up, it’s Baron Samadhi (for his big move he spits a mouthful of Zombie Juice on his opponent to make them slaves to his will. It’s a bit ick if you ask me but it’s another fan favourite and he is always apologising to his opponents afterwards. Not that they know about it though once they are in that zombified state). He dances to the ring accompanied by his Loa Girls. The medium weights are not my favourite. The cruiser weights, well they have speed and incredible agility. The moves those guys can pull… I gotta tell ya, wow. The heavy weights, well they got all the big power moves and that is great to watch too, but the guys in the middle, well they’ve not got either. They do have to work that little bit harder to win the crowd over and that is there strength. Persistence.

Anyway, the Baron is dancing all over the ring with his snake. It used to belong to Jake Roberts, until Andre the Giant sat on the bag. Now he works our side of the fence and I tell you, that snake, Damien is another true pro.

The Baron goes all quiet as the house lights are turned out. Every soul in the place is in hushed silence and anticipation for a few seconds, then FLASH! BANG! Buddha (finishing move The Big Buddha Belly Bop) is standing there on the runway. Not the most successful in the ring, but a real crowd pleaser. He floats, sitting in the lotus position down to the ring, waving serenely at the crowd with a great big smile on his face all the down to ring side, then floats up and over the ring. He stands like a sumo wrestler, then wiggles his belly and does a truffle shuffle! No wonder they love him. The Baron starts before the bell rings, and runs in for a drop kick taking the big man high on the chest. He is staggered and is hit by a second and third drop kick pushing him back into his own corner. Baron Samadhi moves to the opposite corner, looking to splash on Buddha, but he moves out and the Baron smashes hard into the ring post. He recovers quickly though, sending Buddha to the ropes with an Irish Whip and then clotheslines him to drop him to the floor. A series of elbow drops kept him there.

Samadhi goes for the kill with a figure four and the big guy is in trouble now. The fans are on their feet screaming for blood, while Buddha drags himself painfully over the mat, his outstretched arm grasping for the rope. Lucifer is down on the mat beside him asking him if he wants to tap out... and he makes it. Samadhi is forced to release the hold, but he stamps on the back of Buddha’s knee as he gets up. The crowd hisses and boos, and Samadhi milks it for all its worth. That’s the good thing about all these guys divine powers, their injuries only last as long as the story line requires then bam, they just heal themselves up right away.
Buddha is trying to avoid putting too much weight on his injured leg, pulling himself up with the ropes. Samadhi smelled blood in the water and was looking to end it now. He comes running in for a high speed manoeuvre. I just know Buddha is going to be faking it and step out the BAM! NO! SAMADHI JUST CRASHED RIGHT INTO HIM WITH A SHOULDER BARGE THAT LOOKS LIKE IT HAS BROKEN BUDDHA. SOMEONE HAS TO STEP INTO THIS AND STOP IT BEFORE HE GETS SERIOUSLY INJURED. OH MY GOD!

A voice very much like Morgan Freeman’s says “Yes my son?”


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: indianasmith on January 30, 2018, 05:45:59 PM
Must not laugh . . . must not . . . must  :bouncegiggle: :bouncegiggle: :bouncegiggle: :bouncegiggle:


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on January 31, 2018, 02:36:41 PM
Part 3.

Buddha staggered for a few steps dazed. Samadhi moved in for a swinging neck breaker, but Buddha is surprisingly light on his feet for such a big guy, ducks under Samadhi’s grasping hands, slips behind him then rams him hard into the corner post and Samadhi is down! Is Buddha going to go for the pin? No, he is climbing up. Oh my G… no wait, not that again. Jesus Christ, he is going for the top rope.”

Another voice says “Yes, I have eyes and can see that too.” What a character, he has his hands over his eyes and is peeking through them. That JC really cracks me up. Great guy. I ask him to hold my car keys for me and then laugh as they fall on the floor. He falls for that one every time.

Time for a ladies match. Women Scorned (Hel – finisher Highway To Hel & Chyna special move, low blow to the groin. Not as effective against other women as men though) against The Hail Mary’s (Virgin Mary – finisher Immaculate Leg Drop and Mary Magdalene special finisher Witness The Crucifixion). Women Scorned come down to Highway To Hell, AC/DC are popular tonight and the choir is doing it justice. The Hail Mary’s come down in rhinestone studded nuns costumes to Proud Mary.

Magdalene goes in first and Hecate comes out to meet her. It’s an immediate hair pulling contest in the middle of the ring, the pair of them trying to swing each other around. The guys might have more muscle, but with the gal’s it gets downright vicious.

While they are fighting I see Dusty Rhodes wandering around. He hasn’t taken part in the business since getting here, but the word is on the grapevine he is waiting for McMahon getting here so he can have some serious payback for the polka dot costume. Man, the Bionic Elbow. Worst big move ever, but the Big D just has so much charisma he could carry it off. The plumbers son who was just so sweet!

Meanwhile the fight has went outside the ring and all four women are tearing into each other. The Hail Mary’s are being tossed around like a salad by Chyna and Hel. After all they do hath the fury of a woman scorned, but Mary just isn’t staying down! She grabs a Mary by the hair and I can’t tell which one is which, smashes her face into the apron and then jumps back into the ring. Lucifer has no idea who the legal ma… woman in the ring is. I don’t think anyone does. It is chaos here, it is anarchy! He starts a ten count, but Mary gets back in by seven. She then tags in the other Mary. Wow, she is up to it tonight, doing handsprings over the to the other side of the ring, she wraps her legs around Chyna’s neck and OH MY GOD, IT’S A HURRICANRANA! THE VIRGIN MARY JUST HURRUCANRANAD CHYNA. SHE MUST HAVE BEEN FLIPPED SIX FEET UP IN THE AIR!

Once more Morgan Freeman’s voice answers me. It’s so damn hard to be an announcer in this place.

It must be the Virgin Mary who is in there, she runs into one rope, over the ring to the other and then on the return, puts an Immaculate Leg Drop right on Chyna’s head.

From there it is all over bar the counting.

We take a break for a pre-recorded promo spot. JC and his dad are being interviewed by Mean Gene. Mean Gene is asking what they think about all the smack talk Mohammad has been putting out there about JC, but it is God who replies “Well you know what Mean Gene, Mohammad has been telling everyone how he is going to nail my boy and how he is going to stomp all over the hearts of his Christomaniacs and bring them to Allah instead, well I gotta tell ya Mean Gene, I just ain’t impressed at all. And I have just one thing to say to Mohammad. He said to my boy to bring his best, to bring an ass whupping. Well Mean Gene I have to say just this one thing to Mohammad. He wants as ass whupping brought, the all I got to say is this.”

“ASK AND THY SHALL RECEIVE!”

Wow, he went full on there. Total reverb and everything. I felt the ground quaking beneath my feet. Some say that promo’s are a dying thing, but when you have a guy like this doing them… well that is one of the reasons I love this business so much.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on February 03, 2018, 12:35:37 PM
Part 4.

Its followed up with a flash back to how Jesus lost the hard core title. He was already to roll with the apocalypse, when Randy Savage turned up and challenged him to a match. Everywhere JC went the Macho Man was there, getting all up in his face, demanding an Apocalypse Match against him. Eventually after he set up a money lending business in one of JC’s temples. Well JC just lost it with him right there and then. First he cleared house and then the Macho Man got his match. I’ve got to say, it was a match for the ages. No rules, no holds barred. Two hours the pair of them battled back and forth, until finally Randy got him right in the throat with an elbow drop from the top rope and a great big “OOOOOOOHHHHH YYYYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” that was heard all over the heavens.

He then called out some of his old friends, Andre the Giant, S.D. Jones and Eddie Guerrero. I had thought Dunk the Clown was going to turn up, but it turns up that it was only his career that was dead. Anyway, between the four of them the slapped a leg lock, two arms bars and a sleeper hold on JC. They called it The Crucifixion and seriously nailed him with it. JC took it as long as he could, but eventually he submitted. As hard as he was no one could take that kind of punishment and not give up. He lost the match, the apocalypse didn’t happen and he lost the title. It has sat vacant since the Macho Man then disappeared.
Not seen the Macho Man around since then, but I have a feeling that if anyone tries to pull off the end of the world… Well he’ll be there waiting to stop them. Humanity’s ultimate defender.

Anyway, Jesus had a bit of a crisis of faith and disappeared from the scene for a few days. He missed a match the whole Holy Trinity was supposed to take part in and the clique kind of fell apart. Still three days later he came back and ever since he has been working towards another shot at the Hard Core Title. The management had been trying to move away from those kind of matches and be a bit more family friendly and he has had to put in a lot of effort to keep it going. Word is he can’t wait for Mick Foley to get up here so he can form a new tag team with someone just as crazy as he is.

How can you not love a guy like that? He got broken almost in half, and he took a few days, then got right back up and in there.

Back on to the next match. Last one before the big finally. We have Poseidon (finishing move Release The Kraken (I know, it makes no sense for a Greek deity to unleash something from Norse mythology, but who I am to argue with popular movies)) going up against King Midas (big move, the Hand of Gold). I guess we can expect a lot of classic moves from a pair of ancient Greek types.

The lower half of the arena is flooded to allow Poseidon his full range of moves, while Midas makes his way to the ring. I must say for a mortal, he seems remarkably confident about his chances against a god, who is not only more powerful but has a ton of experience in the ring. I know who my money is on.
Well there is enough water in the area now and Poseidon is coming in swimming all the way. Midas pretty much got a dead silence, but the crowd is roaring for the Lord of the Oceans. Wait, what’s this? Midas is putting on a blindfold. Seriously, Midas is going to take on a god blindfold! OH MY GOD!

Morgan Freeman says “Look, I am trying to enjoy a relaxing massage. Will you damn well stop calling on me!”

It is so hard being a ring side announcer in this business, but I love it despite the challenges.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on February 03, 2018, 01:43:17 PM
Part 5.

What the… All the lights just went out? That isn’t in the script. Oh wait, now they are coming back on and… MEDUSA (finishing move The Petrifier) IS IN THE RING! I GUESS SHE IS STILL p**sED AT POSEIDON! SHE IS TURNING HER GLARE ON POSEIDON AND THE GOD IS TURNING TO STONE! AND THE MATCH IS OVER BEFORE IT HAS EVEN BEGUN! I GUESS THESE TWO ARE GOING TO BE THE NEXT DOMINANT TAG TEAM! THEY ARE JUST GOING TO BE UNSTOPPABLE. ONLY HALF THE CROWD IS CHEERING AND THE OTHER HALF ARE NOW SO MANY STONE STATUES! THEY ARE IN THE RING, MIDAS IS TAKING OFF HIS BLINDFOLD WITH ONE HAND AND HIGH FIVING ME… Dusa with the other.

Oh.

They should have thought that one out a bit more.

Well it had the promise of being the perfect tag team up until that moment.

We had better wait for some gardeners to get here. I think if you want a garden gnome then there is going to be plenty material around now. Oh, and if anyone wants a golden statue, contact the station manager. Got to pay the bills around here somehow.

I’ve been in this game for millennia, but somehow every once in a while it still throws up something that surprises even me.

I think this last match is going to be the biggest one since all the top names were in a lumberjack match for who shape planets were to be. So many wanted flat I felt for sure that was going to be the winner. Believe it or not one of them was even going to be carried on the backs of four elephants which was then carried on a turtle.

These guys really don’t help themselves when we are trying to present pro-wrestling as a clean, drug free sport.

Came as a huge surprise to everyone when the Flying Spaghetti Monster came out of nowhere and won that one. Ever since then planets have had to be roughly round as a reminder of his noodly meatballs.

Man, when they were handing out gimmicks that guy really got shafted.

But crazy things like that get up are one of the reasons why you just got to love this business. I was speaking to the managers the other week. Ratings had been down, attendances all over the world were falling. I was starting to get a bit worried we might get cancelled.

And believe me in this business, you get cancelled you are going to need more than the Macho Man to save things. Maybe even have to Hogan in.

He took a draw on his big cigar and pointed downstairs. “Look my boy, they still love us. Look anywhere you want in the world and everyone is copying what we do up here. Don’t you worry.”

I guess he is right. Plus McMahon and Hogan both look ready to join us real soon and both of them know how to bring in the crowds, even if they do have massive ego issues.

I was wondering why the water hadn’t been drained when Jesus came out to the ring, chair in one hand and his pet lump of wood being carried over his other shoulder. He just walks right on top of that water like it was solid concrete and the crowd is going wild. He leaps into the ring like it was nothing, smiles at the crowd and waits. Then we have something special. The camera’s switch to a couple in the crowd. We can see them all on the Jumbotron screen. He gets down on one knee and proposes to his girl. Of course she says yes and the place just erupts. Jesus turns that million mega-watt smile on the crowd then reaches down, touches the water and turns it all to wine for the crowd to help them all celebrate. Whatta guy!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on February 03, 2018, 02:10:39 PM
Part 6.

I tell you, the problems we had promoting this fight was unbelievable. Every time we put posters up advertising it, Mohammad’s guys for some reason would go crazy about it and rip them back down. The things that guy can do in the ring though… it’s just else. I remember we were doing a gig in the Dome of the Rock, Mohammad went up to the top rope and pulled a Moonsault on God back when he was doing the Yahweh gimmick. He went so high the crowd called it ‘The ascent to heaven’. That is the kind of once in a career move that legends were made from! The camera’s hadn’t expected the move and went the wrong way, which helped the story when they lost tracking on him. People thought he had just jumped so high.

People forget the part where God rolled out of the way just as he landed, slapped an ankle lock on and secured a submission, it was the sheer guts of the move people remembered, not who won or even who was fighting.

Mohammad’s turn to come out was next. He didn’t go with his usual wailing music, instead for this event preferring “Eye of the Tiger” and the celestial chorus did it magnificently. The crowd were booing their heads off. Knowing how much Mohammad had been working the crowd for months, building their hate up to fever pitch for this match he must have been really appreciating that his hard work had paid off so well.

He climbed through the ropes to enter the ring, took a moment to bow to the crowd with a grin, then the bell rang and the fight began in earnest.

Man, I love this business!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on February 15, 2018, 01:56:37 AM
A very short story from a friend.

Quote
Stomach: I’m hungry
Brain: What do you want?
Stomach: Candy?
Brain: 🤔Hmmmm
Stomach: Oh please, like you’re gonna say no... 🙄
Brain: Half off Valentines candy tomorrow!
Stomach: Don’t forget the wine! 🍷
Brain: Yay!! 🎉
Stomach: Chocolate creams! Chocolate creams! Chocolate creams!

And they all lived happily ever after!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Trevor on February 21, 2018, 08:01:24 AM
Still trying to finish my script for this:

(https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1483322996l/33670817.jpg)

Way back when, I offered everyone here roles in the movie, along with Sir Anthony Hopkins, Colin Farrell, Nick Frost and Neil McDonough.  :wink:


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: javakoala on February 21, 2018, 06:04:09 PM
Still trying to finish my script for this:

(https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1483322996l/33670817.jpg)

Way back when, I offered everyone here roles in the movie, along with Sir Anthony Hopkins, Colin Farrell, Nick Frost and Neil McDonough.  :wink:

I simply refuse to share the same air as Colin Farrell. And I don't ski, so I must have three stunt doubles. Wait, that's six people, isn't it? Just fix it, dear, and don't forget my green M&Ms!!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on February 21, 2018, 10:23:27 PM
Not lately, but I wrote this prose-poem in college.


The Shutdown


     She felt her body growing quiet, the heartbeat—her heartbeat—growing still. Thirty-one years was enough, enough. Scarcely one shallow breath now where moments ago four had been. Her feet are cold, her hands are cold, her nose has become quite frigid, its tip a nodule of elderly ice, little different from what descends from the eaves in January. The pills, some yet in the basilica-span of her stomach, most now flowing freely through her slurry bloodstream, have done their work. A score of ivory-white tablets, none larger than a blood drop from a pricked finger, each masterful as a surgeon, all secure in their function, keenly drilled in their purpose, like little soldiers, like assassins: leaden the brain, arrest the lungs, punish the heart, slower…slower…slow the body down…They know the matter well, understand they must bring this self-inflicted Armageddon to its height and past.


     In the quiet of the apartment a groan escapes her like flatulence, quite accidental; her chest is heavier than a shelf full of Bibles and she is no longer responsible for her loss of poise. Let us catalogue the humiliations she must bear: The crystalline drool as she so seamlessly slips away on the bed; her naked obese body, so recently scrubbed meticulously clean in preparation, is now disgracefully pungent with chemically-generated perspiration; the yogurty vomit that spilled up on its own is running past her polished teeth, filling her gurgling lungs and pooling beneath her fuzzy armpits onto the dirty sheets of the too-shallow bed. All this would have shamed her had she known of it. But this mess is not her fault. She creates filth not of her own volition. Pills, she thought, would be clean, a pristine slide into re-creation, away from the debris of this failed incarnation. Maybe next time she’d be a princess. Perhaps next time she’d be rich, famous, wanted. Possibly this extinguishment of the physical self was all part of a karmic script. An hour ago this notion had comforted her, for ideas of karma populated the sorts of books she read. Eastern, New Age, Occult. In her hometown she’d had to send away for the books and it made her feel special to know that no one else thereabouts read the same titles, only her.

 
     On the oily bed her body suddenly begins moving, a rude thrashing, almost orgasmic in intensity. How it can still manage such a feat is a miracle, nothing less. So violent does this minuet become that the sheet is torn free from the mattress and wrinkles under her thighs like a crushed flower. One would have expected the time for convulsions to be past, but these animate her like a marionette with its strings gruesomely twisted, as she jerks and writhes and tries to find grace, tries to recapture balance, flailing without coordination, without destination, almost an automaton. Her darkened lips draw oval like a fish’s hunting for air, her lungs labor to supply their load but they are drowning, she is drowning, the tangy vomit, its trespass accidental, crudely lords its dominance over her. The body fights this war the brain has thrown onto it: the body does not want to die, it has a function.


     Gallantly the long-abused physique contends with this circumstance, tries to achieve this victory for the consciousless connection of tissues that lies sprawled on the bed, its systems shutting off in sequence as its feet somehow find the ability to twitch: left, right, left, right, weaker than an instant before, the toes now hardly vibrating. Intelligence may have broken its lease but in this gloaming the brute reactant zone of the flesh valiantly wrestles to catch a fingerhold in the clay at the cliff’s face, to arrest the descent down into the looming emptiness that surges like a tide. If only there was a witness, a chronicler to record this bodily valor, this tenacious stance before death, how this mindless physiology, mere tool of biology, refuses to give up as the dead woman has, how the flesh and organs, skin and cells of the body twitch independently on, denying death for a moment more, holding on though all is lost, delaying the inevitable, shivering its musculature when nothing else remains to it, refusing to die.
                                                                                                    ---Circa 1998




Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on February 23, 2018, 03:19:30 PM
A letter to a psychologist. Fun stuff!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on September 11, 2018, 01:46:33 PM
Finally found this thread again, so I can post my stories in here instead. :) One of the stackers (Suppliers), read The Forsaken and asked if I had any more he could read so I went delving through the past to recover these ones for him.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on September 11, 2018, 04:12:42 PM
Figured since ER had written a story involving Scotland that I should do one too. Going to try something slightly different for my next story and do each chapter from a different person's perspective. And some of the people in the story (Bev, Jim, Alison and Chris) have the names (and some of the traits) of the people I've met in real life, although Jim is in the story because while we were at work he asked if he could be in one of my stories and have lots of sex. Paul is also based on someone else I know, but I'd to change the name as I didn't think his real name would fit into the story.

Cold Waters.
By Alex Corbett.


Prologue.

The bottom of the Loch was still. Little stirred down there in its depths, too cold and lightless for any life larger than the microscopic to survive according to modern science. Closer to the surface teemed with life, all manner of fish, although this part of the world was unusually remote and few would brave the journey to fish there when other, just as rich waters were more readily available.

It was exactly this that had brought those who dwelt below here in the first place, and the few who did come to this place seeking solitude would mysteriously go missing. They were careful to avoid the search parties though. Painful experiences had taught them to walk a careful line between stopping the curious tourists and attracting too much attention. A search party would eventually give up and go home, but if they vanished too then that would only bring greater and greater numbers seeking them.

They were careful also to ensure most of the bodies were found, although sometimes… well they were too badly damaged to pass off as some accidental death and questions would be asked about certain curious injuries. The dwellers below learned slowly and did not like change, but they lived a very, very long time compared to those who dwelt above and would eventually adapt.

Friday.

Simon.

“SIMON!”, the high-pitched voice wailed. Simon turned around to look at his girlfriend and sighed inside. There was no doubt that Bev was the most attractive woman in their class at university, and exactly the sort of woman a man like him should have on his arm, but man was she irritating. Simon was also aware that she had slept with most of her professors in order to keep her grades (barely) high enough to remain at college. Then again, he thought with a smile, when it came to sleeping around he was no slouch himself (and unlike Bev he had standards for who he’d sleep with, only the most attractive girls made it to his bed, although sometimes he’d slum it in an alleyway with a girl who didn’t quite meet his usual criteria). Any hey, what wasn’t to like? He was tall, sandy haired with sparkling blue eyes, a good set of muscles from playing rugby. handsome and of course never short of money. Women were practically jumping into bed with him in the hope they’d be the one to land him, that they would cure him of his bad boy ways. It was hardly his fault if they couldn’t see he had no interest in them beyond satisfying his basic urges. He had one more year to do at Uni, and then he’d be off to a job in the city, working for his dad. Immediately his thoughts started to turn to what he would do with all those desperate secretaries, his manhood starting to stir at the images running through his mind.

Bev’s wailing brought him back to reality. She’d put her foot in some soggy hole in the ground and was now wet almost all the way up to her knee. Adjusting his backpack slightly he walked back to help her up. Whose idea had it been anyway to come trekking through the wildest and most remote part of Scotland hiking? It had seemed like a good idea while they had all been high snorting Jim’s coke. Say what you like about the man’s personal life, he always knew where to score the best Charlie.

Simon sincerely hoped Jim had brought some with him. He was looking forward to getting high and naked with Bev under the stars. Otherwise the next time he saw Jim kissing Paul he’d punch him out after he’d finished throwing up at the sight of them. At private school Simon had experimented with that kind of thing (only ever giving of course) and a bit more after a game of rugger when the post-match games got out of hand, but that was hardly the same thing as what those two got up to.

How Jim and Paul were managing to walk hand in hand over this rough ground was beyond Simon. His muscular legs were tired from dragging his feet through the gorse. Did no one ever come out to this place and cut the damn grass back? The two men smiled at Simon as the caught up with him, and Simon flashed his killer smile back at them, keeping his disgust hidden inside as he had for the past three years. While other people’s attitudes had moved on about sexuality, Simon’s were still rooted firmly in the 1800’s. At least where other people were concerned.

The last two of the group finally caught up. Alison and Chris. They were most used to this kind of outdoors activity, and though his memories of that night were pretty hazy he had no doubt it was one of the pair who had suggested this trip. In his mind’s eye Simon compared Bev and Alison and imagined them both nude. Bev was tall and had (dyed) blonde hair with blue eyes that matched Simon’s, slim to the point of being boyish. Her body was nothing special, but her face was her fortune. Or at least it would be if she got her dream of becoming a model. With a snort Simon considered that she might want to get a boob and butt job. Even models had to have some curves after all. Alison, well she was almost as attractive as Bev (perhaps even more so if she ever cared to put on make-up and make a bit of an effort) but her figure certainly grabbed his attention. Bev had the body of a reversible ironing board, while Alison was voluptuous if a tad short. She was also one of the few women who had ever resisted his advances. Clearly either she was a dyke or just playing hard to get. She had a body that promised it was built for sin.

Perhaps if Jim had brought the right stuff, he could slip some Micky Finn’s into some drinks and have a threesome with Bev and Alison? He’d even let them have Chris if they wanted. Filthy degenerates.

Chris looked cheerful for a change. “Lovely day for a walk. I was a bit worried August would be too late in the year to be out here, but it is fantastic. Hardly a cloud in the sky. Suggest we walk on for another couple of hours, my map says there is a small village up ahead. Maybe it will have a pub where we can get a bite to eat and a pint.”

Bev was taking the chance during the break to redo her make-up. One of the things Simon liked about her is that no matter what she would always look her best. Compared to her Alison would always look a bit frumpy, although what she saw in Chris was beyond Simon. He was of average height and prematurely balding with a seemingly almost permanent hang dog expression only occasionally broken by a wan smile and a very self-depreciating sense of humour. As Chris spoke Alison cuddled up beside him, a wide smile on her face. Simon remembered something he’d done with crack cocaine and a pair of strippers. He was wondering if he could do the same with Alison and Bev.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on September 11, 2018, 06:13:48 PM
Simon's thoughts rarely wandered from sex or power. When something else occured to him, it invariably ended up with him thinking about how he could turn the situation into more sex. If he'd heard the term narcissistic sociopath he would be too self centred to realise he was one. He just knew everyone around him was in awe of him. After all without a doubt he was the most physically perfect and richest person they had ever met. Everything that was important in life he had and they were right to admire him. With one of his characteristic snorts, he thought how pathetic Chris, Paul and Jim must feel when he was around. He made sure he played up to this, letting them borrow his (very expensive naturally) PC to do their Uni projects on. Of course, this also made life easier for Simon as he could simply copy off the stuff they'd wrote on his machine.

After all, he had too much fun to be having to be wasting his time actually doing any work for his degree. Still it was time to get everyone moving on. And this village would no doubt have some very innocent country girls who would no doubt be dazzled by his big city ways and all too eager to please him. Those thoughts filled him with a new energy. He pinched Bev's bum receiving a stern look from her in return. He really was going to have to find an upgrade for her. Looking as good as she did, she'd never had to learn how to be good in bed to get a man and Simon was getting bored with her. "Ok, lets get a move on then and get to this pub, or we'll be cooking outside tonight."

"Leave my bum alone!" Bev protested, her high pitched voice grating on Simon's ears. He just turned his smile on her and winked and could see her melting. It really was all too easy.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on September 12, 2018, 04:25:57 PM
Alison

Taking Simon's lead to get everyone moving again Alison stood up straight, leaving the welcome warmth of Chris's body. The man was like a volcano. She could feel his body heat even through his jacket. Sometimes he was too warm to cuddle up to bed, but no doubt on this trip she'd find it very welcoming.

With a smile she thought about how they'd picked the perfect group for this trip. Sure Bev was a bit vapid, Simon was vain enough to have a Carly Simon song written about him, Jim had to have a good selection of drugs wherever he travelled (although that would come in useful she was sure), and Paul... well while she had other friends who were gay, Paul was GAY!!! and in bright lights. It was unusual to have a conversation about anything without him turning it into something about some other guys butt. He was fun and likable though. And of course she had Chris with her. Solid and dependable Chris. They'd been together for three years since not long after starting Uni together and once this year was over they'd return home together to spend the rest of their lives together. Sure he'd been with Bev for a few weeks before they had gotten together (and well what man hadn't been with Bev?), but they'd drifted apart quite quickly. She'd asked him once why he hadn't went further with her back then. In his usual droll sense of humour he'd said "Because I was crap in bed."

This was their last year as a group, the culmination of all the work. After this almost everyone would be separated and the chances are they'd never see each other again. It was important to have this trip before it was too late. She'd suggested the trip while everyone else was as high as a kite, and got them to book various parts online before anyone came down. Made it much easier to organise.

In many ways Alison was the glue that held the group together. Everyone else was very protective of her, even Simon. She seemed completely oblivious of her effect on men around her, either from those who wanted to protect her or those who wanted to have her. Whereas Bev's physical attractiveness could often put men off and make her seem unapproachable, Alison looked more of an earth mother type. Despite carrying a few extra pounds, she was used to the outdoors lifestyle and was coping with the walk much better than the other more physically fit members of the group (although her large bust was causing her some back pains on the long walk). Her dark hair was held back in a simple pony tail and she as usual wasn't wearing any make-up.

Staying together, she and Chris walked off, drifting off to one side for some privacy from the rest of the group, but not far enough to get seperated. It was important to her to keep everyone together for this trip.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on September 25, 2018, 03:16:40 PM
It would give them something they could remember for the rest of their lives. A ridiculously happy grin split her face as she once more cuddled into Chris’s side and continued walking along through the deserted countryside.

Paul.
 

Jim by his side, Paul trailed along behind the others. Bev and Simon were directly up in front, while Alison and Chris had wandered off a bit. They made a cute couple, but so vanilla. Paul knew that if he got Chris away from Ali for a night, he could get a few drinks and open him up for a few new experiences. There wasn’t a man alive who could resist Paul once they’d been loosened up a bit and he loved to turn straight guys. That was how he’d ended up with Jim, although from what vague memories he had of that night the pair of them had been high on a cocktail of mind altering substances that night. Simon on the other hand didn’t interest Paul at all. He'd met guys like him before and he was pretty sure behind that uptight rich boy front, Simon had (at the very least) already dabbled in other men.

Pre-used goods really were not Paul’s thing.

It was a warm day and Paul was sweating uncomfortably beneath his layers of clothing. Wasn’t Scotland supposed to be permanently cold and wet? He’d spent three years at Stirling University and is had been windy and rainy almost every day. It would be too much to expect a hotel this far from civilisation, but surely, they could find a bed and breakfast. Paul was looking forward to having a shower. Even out here in the hinterlands he was sure people showered. The closest he’d been to this kind of outdoors was when he volunteered at the local dog pound, taking the residents out on walks to the park. Still he could appreciate the view. He was sure in the future he’d look back on this walk with fond memories. Just right now he was stuck with being here, minus the rose-tinted spectacles.

With a sigh that was a strange mixture of contentment and irritation Paul headed on. In the distance they could see a few buildings clinging to the shoreline of the lak… then corrected himself. Of course, north of the border it is a loch, with a guttural accent on the ‘ch’. He could hear Bev still wailing on about her wet foot. What a diva.

The village (although Paul thought perhaps the word hamlet might be more appropriate) was further away than it looked and it was evening before they arrived. He hadn’t seen anyone moving outside the houses, although a few lights flickered in some windows. Did they have electricity this far north, because the glow from the windows was not the steady light of an electric bulb or even the flickering lights of a television. The village was shaped in a ‘T’. The top bar were the houses facing out onto the… loch while a single street headed inland. Most of the shorefront houses looked to be bungalows with honest to god thatched roofs, although they looked in dire need of repair. He guessed there wouldn’t be much money in a remote rural community like this. It was amazing that it had survived this long. Perhaps he could do his final year thesis on how isolated villages like this remained in existence, and how much longer they could hope to survive. Walking along beside Jim, the essay was almost writing itself in his head.

As they reached the village twilight was just emerging. The road through the village was barely worthy of the title. It was dirt, covered in a loose gravel which in many places had sunk down into deep pot holes. Only a couple of houses they passed actually had cars outside and none of them looked like they were in working condition. Most of them were 70’s models if Paul was any judge. How the hell had this place survived? It wasn’t like there would be a Tesco’s within walking distance. The streets were bare of any lightning. Paul thought how he’d hate to be staggering home drunk along here.

He heard an excited squeal from Ali talking about how picturesque the place looked. Paul decided to reply with a quote from his favourite movie “I do not think that word means what you think it means.”
Ali scolded him “Oh, don’t be such a sour puss” she said putting on a pout. Paul just couldn’t keep a straight face when she did that. The group walked closely together, despite their differences bound in friendship.

As they approached the corner of the ‘T’ they could see one building larger than the rest, being properly three stories high. The lower floor was lit up and a swinging sign outside convinced the group it was a pub, although the paint on the sign has long since faded into illegibility. A light rain started up, and with the thought of a cold beer to cheer them up the group broke into a run for the pub, giggling and laughing.

Paul practically dragging Jim made it to the doors first. Dragging the somewhat stiff door partly open he jumped inside mockingly pretending that he’d hold it shut leaving the rest trapped outside. With a laugh he opened the door again, holding Jim’s hand as the pair of them walked into the bar.

Inside the bar, was gloomily lit. Low wattage bulbs fittings had been mounted on the walls, although more than half of them seemed to be dead. The bar was a large open area, but only half a dozen patrons were present, most of them hunched over the table, wearing clothes typical of fishermen. Although they were inside most of them had their waterproof jackets hoods up over their heads.

The barman was a brute of a fellow. His jumper was straining to contain his broad shoulders, while his face was pallid. His eyes seemed disturbingly far apart and his thick lipped mouth unusually wide. Greasy, lank hair hung down past his shoulders. He looked over at Jim and Paul pointed one dirty finger at them, and in a somewhat liquid voice said “Your kind ain’t welcome here!”


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on September 25, 2018, 07:44:53 PM
Nice to see you writing again, Alex. I enjoyed that. Keep it up! :cheers:


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on September 27, 2018, 03:54:45 AM
While initially taken aback, Paul had heard this kind of thing before and wasn’t about to put up with it after a long day hiking over the hills. He stepped forward ready for a shouting match with this ogrish looking fellow, when Chris pushed past him. Ali put her hands gently on Paul’s shoulders and standing on tiptoes to reach his ear whispered “Let Chris deal with it. You know he is good at dealing with idiots like this guy.”

Indeed, during their years as friends Chris was always the one who could step into a situation and defuse it before it got out of hand. He walked over to the bar and motioned with one hand behind his back for the others to move to a table. Ali carefully guided Paul to an empty table knowing just how angry he’d be feeling, and not wanting him to suddenly leap into action on the barman. He looked like he outweighed Paul by at least twice. Chris was speaking earnestly to him, but the others couldn’t hear what was being said between them.

When Chris re-joined the others, he had his usual hangdog smile and a tray of pints.

“Don’t worry guys and girls, it was all just a slight misunderstanding.”

“Chris, the guy told me gays aren’t welcome.”

Chris laughed a little. “No mate, it’s not gays that aren’t welcome. He doesn’t like any strangers in the bar. The fact you are gay has nothing to do with it. He just doesn’t like our faces. I talked him into letting us stay for a few drinks, but I don’t think we should ask about rooms for the night. Looks like we’ll be camping outside.”

“He doesn’t like our faces” huffed Bev. “Has he had a look in the mirror ever?”

“Bae, he is just jealous. He is never going to get a woman like you and he knows it.”

Bev relaxed, slightly mollified by the thought of making men jealous.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on September 27, 2018, 08:26:23 AM
 :smile:


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on September 27, 2018, 01:56:52 PM
“Bae, he is just jealous. He is never going to get a woman like you and he knows it.”

Bev relaxed, slightly mollified by the thought of making men jealous, even one who apparently swam at the shallow end of the gene pool.

Paul took a sip of his beer “Urgh, I almost wish that guy had kicked us out rather than serve us some of this goat’s p**s.”

Simon’s perfect face grimaced as he tried his pint. “Yeah, hardly something you’d want to trek out into the wilds to sample.”

Chris drank deeply of his pint “Well, I’ve tasted worse. Maybe it is an acquired taste?”

“Not one I’d care to acquire”, laughed Jim. “Here, try some of this.”

He reached inside his jacket and brought out a tiny bottle, with an eye dropper and after putting a few drops in his eyes, passed it around the table. Each of them in turn used it, not caring or even considering if the locals noticed or disapproved. “Just a little something to set us up for later. If you have the money I have the goods to make any night great.”

Everyone slipped Jim some notes and with a smile he brought out a snuff box. Paul recognised it as a present he’d given him to keep his stash in. Plus, Jim had a thing for antique snuff boxes. He watched Jim as he opened the lid and gently tapped out a short and narrow line of white powder along his finger, while using his other hand to roll one of the notes he’d just been handed he used it as a straw and in a single motion snorted it all up one nostril, before passing the snuff box to Simon. He took his hit and flung himself back in his chair, leaning backwards and chanting “Hot damn, hot damn, HOT DAMN!”

Paul took a hit himself, seeing stars dancing in front on his eyes, then passed it onto Ali. Shaking his head as if to clear it a little, Paul realised the few locals in the bar were watching them intently. Guess not much else happens around here worth watching, he thought. Hell, a couple of sheep getting it on must be about as exciting as it got. He half laughed, half grunted at that thought. Under the table Jim passed him a couple of pills that Paul swallowed without the others noticing. The cocktail of drugs quickly started to take effect, easing his mood and relaxing him. He smiled at the locals staring at him, thinking how odd it was that even inside they kept their hoods up and their faces hidden in shadow. The room swam slightly around him and he felt warm inside with nothing but love for those around the table beside him. He drank some more of his pint, the taste bothering him less now. He finished it, and asked for another as Ali went up to get a round in.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on September 27, 2018, 03:50:56 PM
Chris.

Chris watched Ali from behind, admiring her rear as she walked up to the bar. He could picture perfectly the sweet smile on her face as she spoke to the barman. He was convinced that she was the woman for him, and no other could ever make him feel as happy as he was with her. The others around him were chattering away. Chris half listened, nodding where he thought it appropriate, but wasn’t really paying attention to the others. He’d never swap a girl like Ali for someone like Bev, who while she had a nice-looking face had the body of a reversible ironing board, flat on both sides. He broke into a broad grin thinking of Ali’s curves. Truth was, he didn’t care that much for the rest of the group (although he didn’t dislike them either), and if he could have stayed home just him and her he’d have been quite happy. But still, he had to do his duty to society and take part. Besides Ali loved company and always shone like a diamond in any gathering.

Chris watched as the pupils of his companions grew larger as their drugs took effect. He had partaken himself just to fit in with the group, but recreational drugs didn’t seem to do anything to him. It was one of the reasons he was the peacekeeper for the group. While the others were out of their faces on drink and drugs he’d still have his head firmly on his shoulders. He supped his beer, enjoying the unusual salty taste as it rolled down his throat. He couldn’t help noticing the look Simon shot Jim and Paul as they shared a long lingering kiss. Was he jealous of them? He’d never thought of Si as being that kind of a guy. Still, it takes all sorts and Chris never claimed to be any kind of expert when it came to understanding people. He shrugged his shoulders and leaned forward, joining in the conversation with the others, vaguely aware that they really should have found a place to camp before it got too dark, but too relaxed to actually do anything about it. Maybe the drugs were having some effect after all? He was never entirely comfortable in company, but at times like this he could feel what it would be like to be one of them.

Ali returned with the next round of drinks. Everyone else seemed to have lost their distaste for the drink too. She handed him his drink with a wink that was full of promise for later that night when the others weren’t around and ran her fingers down the side of Chris’s hand as he took his drink, then sat down beside him. Chris couldn’t help but notice Simon taking an admiring look at Ali’s arse as she moved to sit down. Guess he prefers curvier women too. He could hardly blame the guy, but he knew he had no chance. Ali and him were meant to be in a deeper way than Chris would ever know or understand.

The conversation had turned to discussing various lecturers the group had and imagining what peccadillos they might have, each suggestion bringing louder and bawdier laughter.

Chris was half wishing he’d brought his copy of ‘Cards Against Humanity’, just to see what reactions that would get from the onlookers.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on September 27, 2018, 05:13:42 PM
Jim.

Right at this moment Jim was in his element. His best customers and friends were obviously well satisfied with his choice of drugs, and as long as they all suddenly didn’t decide to go cold turkey all at once, he’d be able to finish his last year at Stirling University. No small feat in today’s economy. Jim had grown up in poverty with a single mum who had did her best with the limited money she had available, but had inevitably sunk into debt. Jim had been determined to avoid that. At first, he’d worked his ass off in every and any job he could get, but it had left him exhausted and in danger of falling behind in his studies. Whenever he had spare time he’d started drinking and was headed down a self-destructive path. It wasn’t until the doorman at a nightclub had offered him some pills that he found a way out. Not drugs… well not taking them anyway. Most of his classmates came from privileged backgrounds and had cash to spare. They were already buying drugs. Jim figured if it was him they bought them from, well it wasn’t like he was forcing them to take them. He’d picked up a few sources to buy small amounts of drugs from which he then passed on to his friends for only a minor increase in price. He justified this to himself as being more convenient for them, plus he was now the one taking the risk if he was caught buying them. He also made sure he found out who was safe to buy from and only purchased from sources that didn’t cut their product with weed killer and rat poison. Surely his friends didn’t mind paying him for those services. One more year to get through and he’d never have to deal drugs again, he could get a good paying proper job and settle down. In his mind’s eye he pictured the future he had planned out. Nice house, nice car. Paul… well that part he wasn’t sure of. Sure, they had fun together, but Jim wasn’t sure it was what he wanted for the rest of his life. He enjoyed women as well as men and before they’d got together he’d always thought about marrying a woman and having kids together. Sure, they could adopt, but it wouldn’t be the same for him. Not to mention that both of them had completely different plans for after Uni and they involved settling down in different parts of the country.

Sighing, Jim decided to forget deep and meaningful thoughts for the night and helped himself to a generous helping from his snuff box, then offered it around his companions.

While he’d been thinking and discussing whatever random subjects came around the table Paul had bought a round in, then when that was finished Si went up and came back with a bottle of brandy. He sat down slightly unsteadily. “Can you believe that they don’t have any champers in this bustling metropolis?” he said, slurring his words slightly.

“Did they have any Prosecco?” enquired Bev.

“Pfft, that stuff is for plebs and poseurs. I only drink the real stuff. Wouldn’t catch me with that in my wine cellar. Only the best for me and mine! Speaking of the best, Jim give me some more of your magic snuff. Ladies and gentlemen, I propose a toast to US!”

Jim watched as a swaying Si stood up to make his toast and almost collapsed sitting back down. He then continued. “You know, I think I am going to suggest to my dad that he buys this entire village, knocks it all down and turns it into a car park.”

With a laugh Jim asked him “Who the hell is going to drive all the way up here to park a car?”

“Who the hell cares. I just want to knock it all down. Maybe get some kind of award for making a civic improvement. HEY BARMAN! Bring me and my friends over a whisky each, and make sure it’s the good stuff, not the s**tt you yokels drink. We are in Scotland right? You must serve whisky.”

Jim could hear the barman growling from the other side of the room. Chris got to his feet, somewhat less unsteady than Si had. Looked like Chris was doing his usual and getting ready to step in before a fight broke out.

For some reason in his head, Jim could hear the lyrics to "Eton Rifles" running through his mind.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on October 02, 2018, 11:07:19 AM
I have been trying to get a sci-fi story off the ground and haven't had a lot of time. Science fiction is a genre I like but I've rarely written in, but I hope this story could be good if I could just get it up and running.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 05, 2018, 04:17:55 AM
Chris grabbed Si by the elbow and gently, but firmly propelled him in the direction of the door, the others hurriedly following. Jim was last, just behind Paul, and the pair of them had to duck, when Paul passed the barman and just couldn’t resist winking and blowing him a kiss. The man with a howl of rage, grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be a glass ashtray and launched it their direction. It shattered against the top of the doorframe showering the duo in glass. They ran outside into a now dry night, and everyone collapsed in drunken laughter, not even thinking that the barman might just be angry enough to chase them out into the street.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 05, 2018, 04:49:42 AM
Bev.

Feeling a little tipsy, but in high spirits Bev walking along towards the water’s edge. Paul and Jim were trying their best to remove broken glass from their hair and clothes, doing their best to make sure none had gotten into their backpacks, not an easy task while drunk and in the dark. For no reason a giggle burst from her lips and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Let’s find somewhere to sleep the night” she called out.

“Oh babe, what I’ve got in mind for you tonight doesn’t involve any sleep”, slurred Si. She could tell he’d had too much to drink and wouldn’t be up for performing anything he had in mind. Bev had grown up poor and was determined never to live in poverty again, so she made sure she always had a man like Simon around to look after her. She had to looks to make sure of that, and until she was able to make it as a model, she’d make sure she had him, or someone like him around. Putting up with his personality was just part of the package she was prepared to accept. It was the same with her studies. She wanted to live in Australia or America and that would be a lot easier if she had a degree. If getting that meant giving blow jobs to old men for better grades, well she was prepared to accept that as part of that package too. She didn’t think of it as cheating (either in terms of her relationship or unfairly getting decent grades), just using her talents to get where she could in the world and she wasn’t hurting anyone else to let there. It wasn’t like she actually planned in working in anything that her degree would be useful anyhow. Hell, if she really needed to, she could always get work as a stripper.

The sextet had wandered out of the village confines and were strolling along the edge of the loch. The moon was shining on its waters, illuminating its otherwise black surface with a silvery sheen, and what lights there were from the village soon disappeared.

She looked up at the sky noticing how clear the sky was. Being a child of the city, light pollution had never allowed her to see the sky in its natural glory. In her drug and alcohol befuddled state it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen.

Paul was making lewd comments to Jim and Simon, when Bev suddenly shrieked “Let’s all go skinny dipping!”

Even before anyone had replied, Bev was pulling off her top and fumbling with her bra. She ignored the chorus of wolf whistles as the others decided to follow suit, convinced suddenly that going swimming naked in the middle of the night was the best idea ever. Paul of course was openly leering at the men as the stripped off. Simon, meanwhile leered at the women just as openly, although falling over as he struggled to remove his trousers somewhat spoiled his view. He had been trying to compare Ali’s nipples to Bev’s and collapsed in a heap.

Bev, impatient to get in the water ran on ahead, the cold water hardly noticed even as goose bumps crawled over her skin. She waded in until she was hip deep in the water then dived forward disappearing momentarily under the water. A few moments later Ali and Chris ran in splashing and laughing. Paul, jumped on Jim’s back who then carried him piggyback into the water, then finally Simon, recovering from his fall entered. Bev surfaced, gasping for air and saw Simon’s elbow was bleeding. He hadn’t yet noticed that he’d skinned his arm when he’d fallen. Part of her mind registered that he’d be unhappy about that in the morning. He hated his skin being marked in any way, but the rest of her was lost in the moment and didn’t care.

Simon and Paul were shrieking about the cold water. Jim decided to show him just how cold it was, and leaned back until he fell into the water taking Paul down with him. The pair rose up spluttering and spitting out water, laughing. Paul tried to push Jim back under by jumping up and shoving his shoulders down. Bev giggled and called out “Paul, better be careful. Looks like the cold water is causing things to shrink.”

Unusually Paul blushed, although his reddening face was hidden by the moonlit night and no one else saw it.

The groups momentum was taking them deeper out into the loch. Occasional waves were now lapping at their shoulders. The cold was starting to penetrate even the drug induced fugue they were under.

Deciding she’d had her fun, Bev decided to swim for shore, ducking under the water as she done her best to push off the bottom of the loch. Simon jumped with a squeal and shouted that she’d bitten him on the arse. At the same moment Jim shouted, “What the hell?” as he felt something grab his calf muscle with a tug.

Bev surfaced some meters away, to hear Simon shout “There she is. Get her!” She looked behind her to see Simon start swimming towards her. Although he was powerfully built for swimming, his coordination was somewhat off and she easily outpaced him reaching the shore long before anyone else.

“What the hell?” she yelled angrily turning around to face those still swimming. “Which one of you perv’s has hidden my clothing. Those knickers were Victoria’s Secrets I have you know and not cheap.” demanded.

Chris made it out next, “Hey, all our clothes are gone” he exclaimed.

They started looking around, joined by the rest as they emerged dripping from the water. “Our backpacks are still here. Why would someone take our clothes and leave them?” Simon asked.

“Obviously babe, some pervert is out there watching us on night vision or something. Well I hope you are getting a good look, because you’ll never be getting your filthy hands on these goods.” Bev put her hands on her hips and struck a pose, slowly turning around while shouting “That’s it, you take a long good look and remember it for when you are wanking alone tonight.”

Their exuberant mood spoiled by the theft, they all pulled fresh clothes out of their backpacks. Ali pointed out that they should walk further away from the village to avoid any other pranksters or perverts.

“I bet it was that guy in the pub. I swear when we go back that way I am going to find him and smash his f**king face in.” Simon had been swearing angrily about the missing clothes ever since he’d gotten out the water. Other than his stream of threats and curses it was quiet as the group walked along the Lochside until they found a suitable place to camp, pitching their tents in the darkness.

Simon did not get to have sex that night.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 10, 2018, 04:37:19 PM



SATURDAY.


Alison.

Alison was a habitual early riser and got up earlier than the rest. She hadn’t been as annoyed as the others had been about losing their clothes. Making sure everyone else was still asleep, she slipped out of the tent still naked and slipped into the water, leaving a towel on the shore just in case anyone else should happen along. She used a small bar of soap and washed herself all over, enjoying the feel of the water on her skin. She had grown up being used to going swimming in all sorts of weathers. She found the feel of the cold-water invigorating, its icy chill hardening her nipples and raising goose bumps all over her skin. It started to excite her a little and she started to think of ways she could give Chris a surprise wake up if the others still were still sleeping by the time she went ashore.

With well-practised strokes, she powered her way through the waves, often dipping below the surface for as long as she could hold her breath, not testing herself against the elements, but seeking to flow with them. She moved her feet very little, all the power coming from her arms until she was deep enough to turn underwater somersaults. On land she was an indifferent athlete, but in the water, she was lithe and graceful.  Never once had she ever found swimming tiring.

Alison was a natural swimmer. Her mother had told her it was in her blood, and the small waves of the Loch proved no challenge to her as she swam out much further and deeper than they had last night. A few of the group would be wishing they hadn’t drunk quite as much today, but like Chris she rarely felt the effects of alcohol and felt well enough to go swimming. As a child she’d practically spent more time in the water than dry land and it was something she’d never stopped doing. After half an hour or so, she decided she’d had enough and started for the shore. Picking up her towel she started drying herself off, critically examining each part of her body as she did so. True she was carrying a few extra pounds, but she had never been short of admirers both male and female, many of whom did not care that she already had a boyfriend. She’d tease them and lead them on for a while, enjoying the attention, but ultimately, she’d also leave them frustrated and unsatisfied. Her breasts were much larger than most women, something that had prevented her competing for swimming professionally, and she liked her large, dark nipples. While her belly wasn’t flat she didn’t have a muffin top either. Although the only hair on her body was on her head, it would surprise others if they knew this was natural for her. She had never grown pubic hair, although she’d developed normally in every other way. Not that she complained about that, just saved her all the bother of keeping everything neat and shaving regularly. Her piercing green eyes captivated many a man and her hazelnut hair was her crowning glory. Ali did consider herself to be manipulative. Men did all the manipulating on their own. She might not discourage them, but she didn’t ask them to throw themselves at her either. Men seemed to find Bev’s model type looks off putting, and her height intimidated them, but Alison being short didn’t threaten their manhood. She finished drying herself off, and walked back to the tent, a wicked smile on her face at the thought of what she was going to do to Chris.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 10, 2018, 04:39:26 PM
Simon.

The first sound Simon heard when he woke up was Bev’s snoring. It wasn’t overly loud, but just loud enough to irritate him, especially with a hangover. When they had first started sleeping together he had tried pinching her nose while she slept, or rolling her over but none of it stopped her. He was feeling horny as hell, but in no condition to do anything about it. Feeling like he was going to throw up, he moved to the bottom of their tent and peaked outside to see if anyone would witness him having a white out. As his peered out of the gap between two toggles he saw Alison walking out of the water, as naked as the day she was born. “Somebody up there likes me”, he thought, his hangover temporarily forgotten. He got a full view of her naked body, much better than last night’s drunken… The thought was interrupted as memories of last night came flooding back, falling over, his clothes being stolen. f**k! His watch. It had cost him £1000, and although he had three others just like it. Bastards. Stolen like the rest. Alison’s movement distracted him again, and he stared at her watching as she dried herself off, and then brazenly walked back to her tent.

Yeah, I bet she knows I am watching and she is just showing me the goods, make me want her more, he thought. I’ll have her before this year is out he decided to himself. He had been just horny before, but now he was ready to burst, his libido battling with the nausea filling his body. As the nausea started to win and he desperately opened the tent to run to the water’s edge to empty his stomach he thought to himself “One for the wank bank later on”, even as he ran to the water’s edge, retching and leaving spots of vomit behind him as he sped over the cobbled shore in his bare feet.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 11, 2018, 01:58:41 PM
A few minutes later when his body had finished ejecting the contents of his stomach, he splashed some water on his face to wash away the beads of perspiration and staggered back to his tent. Whose s**tting idea was it to have this holiday anyway? Four f**king days wandering around a lake in f**king Scotland! He couldn’t wait to be done at Stirling Uni and be back down in London. He swirled a mouthful of water and then spat it out angrily, seriously considering just walking back to… well dammit there had to be somewhere civilised. This is the UK. We don’t have any wildernesses left here.

Just as he reached his tent, his stomach rebelled again and he fled back to the water, hand clasped over his mouth to try and stop the puke spraying out everywhere, too busy in his own world to notice the muffled sounds of laughter and giggling coming from Chris and Ali’s tent as they fooled around together. His body was wracked by spasms heaving his chest. He dropped to his knees as the world swam around him. f**king Scotland, f**king Jocks in the pub. He hated this place. For a few minutes all his strength seemed to leave him and for a few minutes after he finished puking, he stayed there, his feverishly hot forehead resting against the cold pebbles.

Damn but hangovers never seemed to get any easier. When Jim woke up, he’d get a pick me up off him. Until then he would be in his own private world of pain. The sun seemed to be too hot and the glare of the light on the water made Simon’s head hurt. f**k the natural world. He wanted plastics, coffee, a comfortable bed, satin sheets and women on call to go with them, not this hippy horse crap f**king freezing cold in the middle of effing nowhere, without even a f**king Asprin. Shakily, he got to his feet. Being sick always seemed to drain the energy from him. He wiped the bile from around his mouth, spitting again to try clear his mouth of the taste. He returned to the tent, coughing as the smoke from a now awake Bev’s cigarette hit him. “f**king hell love, give us a puff of that” he demanded.

Bev, obligingly handed her hand rolled cigarette over. He always thought that was a common habit and would mark her out as never fitting in with the kind of company he liked back home. He drew in heavily, filling his lungs with smoke, and then with a second coughing fit, blew it all back out. He looked at Bev. Even without her makeup on, she still looked very pretty. Her hair was a mess though, made her look like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. She was sitting up in her sleeping bag, her mosquito bite (as he liked to call them when she wasn’t around) breasts on display. Simon was in no mood to appreciate them at the moment. “Got anything to drink?” He asked.

Looking at him through bleary eyes, she turned around to dig through her bag and after some rummaging around found a can of cola. Gratefully he took it, opening the can and downing half the contents in one gulp. “Ah crap, it’s f**king warm. Couldn’t you have kept it cold?”

“Oh, what a stupid f**king cow I am. Forgot to put it in the fridge”, she replied shrewishly, his voice rising in pitch as she prepared for one of her and Si’s regular arguments, but Simon’s head was in no fit state to take that. “All right, all right. Sorry. Just shut up for five minutes!”

Bev’s mouth opened and closed a few times making Simon think of a goldfish, before she decided having a shouting match wouldn’t do her head any good right now either, but Simon could tell the information was being stored for another argument when this morning would be brought up again. He took another long drag on the cigarette before handing it back to her.





Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on October 13, 2018, 08:17:19 PM
Good to see you continuing your writing, Alex.
One small mistake, though: women don't snore.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 14, 2018, 07:14:18 AM
Good to see you continuing your writing, Alex.
One small mistake, though: women don't snore.

Women are like old testament gods. Lots of rules and no mercy.    :bouncegiggle: :twirl: :bouncegiggle:


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on October 16, 2018, 01:25:10 PM
Been thinking lately about ending my diary on my birthday this year, December 24th, because I began it on my tenth birthday in 1988 when my grandma gave me a little diary book with a lock on it, and somehow thirty years sounds like a good round figure for the 7,000-page exercise.

If I do stop I think I'd need to overcome something like an addiction and might have psychological withdrawal symptoms, to the point that my first thought on the day after I ceased would be, "I gotta write in my diary what it feels like not to write in my diary anymore."

I'm not sure I could quit if I wanted to.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 22, 2018, 01:48:07 PM
Quit when you are ready to quit, not by some arbitrary date. Perhaps you'll end up like Samuel Peeps, or Anne Frank and find your life being studied by generations of students for hundreds of years to come.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 22, 2018, 02:11:44 PM
Even though she hadn’t put on her make-up and her hair was a mess, Bev still looked good. She was sitting upright, her tits just over the top of the sleeping bag. Simon for a second if it would be worth paying for a boob job for her, get those mosquito bites at least up to a handful each. Maybe he could do it just before he dumped her and went back home, sort of a leaving present to remember him by and to soften the blow. She’d dropped enough hints that she wanted one.

Simon’s musings were interrupted by a scream and a giggle from another tent. Ali and Chris no doubt. Despite his hangover Simon was in the mood for sex (he rarely wasn’t). He gave Bev a look and a smile. She knew what he was after right away “With your breath smelling of puke? I don’t bloody think so. At least go brush your teeth first you randy bastard.”

With a scowl and a grumble, Simon grabbed his toiletries bag and headed back out to the lakeside.

Bev.

Watching Simon ass as he made his way out of the tent, Bev gave a little smile. He did have a good arse on him. That and his money made up for his personality. She finished her cigarette and went to light a second, before deciding it would be a waste. Simon would be back before it was finished. Her hand slipped back inside her sleeping bag. She should at least get herself ready for Simon. The man thought that foreplay was something you did in golf. She had only just begun to touch herself when she heard Paul’s voice as he said good morning to Si. Oh well, that was that then. There was no way they’d be having sex with everyone else up and around.

She decided she should grab her clothes and get dressed just in case anyone popped their head in to say hello. She’d just put her bra on as Simon re-entered, flashing his million-pound smile. She guessed Paul had given him something for his hangover.

Occasionally she wondered if there was something else Paul wanted to give him. Perhaps she’d agree to it as long as she could watch. The thought of those two together made her laugh, although she put her hand over her mouth and pretended to cough rather than have Si ask what she was giggling about. “Sorry bae,” said Simon “we are going to have to take a rain check. The others are up.”

She put on a sad face and lied “But I was so looking forward to a bit of fun. Didn’t get any last night, didn’t get any this morning.”

“f**king hell babe, I am not a machine. Look I promise you’ll get plenty tonight. I’ll even do something special for you.” He winked and smiled again.

“Oh, all right.” She sighed theatrically and thought “I should get a ruddy Oscar for that performance.”

Still inside her sleeping bag, she finished getting dressed, struggling to get her Demin’s on in the tight space, pulled on a shirt and then left the tent to brave the second day of this stupid trip.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 23, 2018, 12:40:28 PM
Ali was setting up a portable stove for breakfast. Chris seemed a bit flustered. She wondered if they’d had an argument. Always seemed to be the perfect couple. Would be nice to know they were just as human as everyone else. No one else looked quite as bad as Simon had, but then he had been downing all his drinks much faster than anyone else. Bev decided to be useful, filled up a pan with water and then set up her own stove and boiled it. She always felt hopeless before her first coffee. The water was quickly ready and the grateful look on Jim’s face as she offered him a mug showed she wasn’t the only one who needed a caffeine fix first thing. Paul (who else?), made a comment about how it would help him get (it) up.

About the time she was half way down her mug, their breakfast was ready. Eggs and beans. Still, the walking should wear off the calories. She felt herself again. The tents were quickly taken down and packed away, and everyone was as ready for the second day as they were going to get. Bev hoped they made good progress before Simon came off whatever chemical high Jim had doubtless given him.

Chris.

His mind more on what Alison had done to him this morning, Chris pulled out the map and called the others over. Pointing to the south-eastern tip of the loch on the map he told them “This is where we are today. If we want to get all the way round this weekend, we need to get to at least here,” his finger now jabbed at a point two thirds of the way along the loch’s northern short. “Tomorrow, we’ll pass over the north-western end and follow it back down and towards the road, and we should all be back in Stirling Monday morning.”

Simon peered at the wrinkled map “So how far we walking?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing too hard, fifteen, twenty miles a day.” Chris decided to leave out that it was over rough ground and not as easy as it sounded.

“And how do we cross the river at the top? I don’t see any bridge on the map.”

“Oh, there is a crossing. It’s not that wide a watercourse and a few planks of wood let you walk across.”

Simon, a touch of suspicion in his voice asked, “Have you been here before, how do you know?”

His voice dropping in volume Chris told him “Well, there is always that kind of crossing in these places. The shepherds put them down I think, and you can see on the map it is only a stream feeding into the loch there. We’ll pass over a few of them on the way around, and I promise you every single one will have a crossing.”

That seemed to exhaust Simon’s supply of questions for the moment. Everyone shouldered their packs and following Chris and Ali’s lead headed off following the line of the beach.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 23, 2018, 02:01:55 PM
Almost immediately Simon broke into some song, making up the lyrics as he went along. Whatever Jim had given him must have been good stuff, but ten minutes later with Si still singing Chris was starting to wish he’d given him a sedative instead of an upper.

The scenery had to be seen to be believed. The heather was deep in the second of its two annual blooms, and the sun was bright bringing out all the colours of the countryside. Soon it would be turning to autumn, but the evergreen trees would retain their colour much longer than the deciduous trees of the south. The forest would gain a springy bed of pine needles (although not one you’d want to sleep on). Chris loved the wild places like this and was sad at the thought of leaving them behind and moving onto the big city. Ali walked alongside him. He could tell her thoughts were similar to his from the thoughtful expression on her face, with an occasional frown clouding her face as she thought of some problem they’d encounter, or something they’d miss from this, their old life.

Unconsciously he reached out for her hand, and by that strange unspoken contact that all loving couples have, she reached for his. He gave her a reassuring squeeze and a smile. It would all be all right. The changes the future would bring would be faced together.

He couldn't hear any bird song, but the sound of the waves lapping on the shore was curiously relaxing. He loved listening to the waves, be it from the ocean or a loch like this one. Ali leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

They walked for around three or four hours before deciding to stop for lunch. Jim suggesting trying to catch a fish, but Bev squirmed at the thought of chopping the head and tail off of a living creature, then cutting its belly open to gut it. Chris had always been surprised tha she had never became a vegan. A catty voice inside his head said yeah, that isn't the only 'v' word she isn't. He snorted, receiving an enquiring glance from Ali.

"Hey bae", he heard Simon call. "Stand infront of the water. I want to get a picture of you and stick it on facebook." Bev was never one to turn down a chance to pose, and Simon quickly snapped off a few pictures on his mobile phone.

"Damn it, can't get any signal here. What kind of place doesn't have a phone signal?"

"Never mind honey, you can do it when we get back" Bev told him soothingly. He grunted and put his phone down, turning his attention back to his lunch.

The sun was high and hot when they set off once more. The hangovers of the night before appeared to have worn off, and the group was soon in high spirits again as they walked along laughing and joking. Simon suddenly stopped and swore. "f**k! I've left my phone back when we had lunch."

Chris shook his head. "s**t mate. We'll walk back and get it, just have to walk a bit later tonight than we had planned."

"Nah, its alright. I'll walk back and get it. If you don't mind setting up our camp for us, we'll catch you up later."

"What do you mean we'll catch you up?" Bev interjected.

"Oh c'mon bae, you can't expect me to walk all the way back on my own. What if I have an accident?"

"Simon is right", said Chris. "He shouldn't walk back on his own."

Bev looked ready to throw a tantrum, she crossed her arms and huffed, looking at her friends eyes for support and seeing none. "Fine, but you owe me dinner when we get home! And not somewhere cheap either." As if Simon would ever choose to eat somewhere anywhere less than expensive. They rejigged everyones backpacks, so the others were carrying Bev and Chris's tent, and then he and Bev headed back off down the trail. Simon called back "We should be back before it gets dark."

"I can't believe you left your phone. I've never seen that thing more than a few centimeters from your hand before."


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 25, 2018, 05:31:06 PM
Simon had the feeling he was going to get complaints like this all the way back. Still, it would be worth it. He had a surprise in mind for Bev. As he thought about it, his fingers unconsciously ran over the object hidden in his jacket pocket and what he would do with it…


Jim
[/b]

Jim smiled as Simon and Bev walked off. Simon had confided in his before they’d even came on this trip what he was planning to do and Jim had agreed to get him a few special pills that would help Simon out and gave him a few suggestions to help him out. Hell, he even knew Simon had lied about leaving his phone behind. That was just as excuse to get Bev away from everyone else, and well if he didn’t do it right, there was bound to be some screaming. He’d love to be a fly on the wall and see Bev’s face when she found out what he was really up to. He’d found it difficult not to say anything to anyone else, especially Paul. The chances of it remaining secret if he found out though… Paul couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. He noticed Paul looking at him and smiled at him, then gave him a brief kiss before continuing towards the end of the loch. Ali and Chris had already started off and they had to hurry a little to catch them up.

While Simon and Bev were part of their social group, Jim had noticed that things were always slightly more relaxed when the pair of them weren’t around. Everyone was always half expecting Simon to say something off colour, or Bev to throw a tantrum. Once or twice she’d even taken their arguments out into the street, no doubt providing entertainment for any passers-by and other residents. With them gone, things were just less on edge. Ali and Chris were holding hands, walking along with an exaggerated swing to their arms and singing the theme from The Muppets. Paul was smiling too, nothing spoiling the cheerful atmosphere, although he did make a comment about what he’d like to market Gonzo’s nose as a sex toy. Laughing Jim asked what was green and smelled of pork, before telling them Kermit’s middle finger. It was a corny old joke given new life with their ebullient mood, and it exhausted their supply of Muppet related sex jokes.

As they walked along Jim wondered about how things were going with Simon. Had he done it yet? Would Bev see it coming, and run away screaming with Simon chasing her or would he take her by surprise? Si had gone into a surprising amount of detail about what he wanted to do and asked questions about how to make it work out, not all of which Jim had been able to answer. He wondered what anyone looking at his internet search history would make of Simon’s planning. He’d even had to go online and order a few things not available in your average shop. It would look pretty incriminating though if anyone saw his credit card bill.

Oh well, that would-be Simon’s problem to worry about. He wondered if he should have suggested a gag though?

Paul.

Looking at his longest lasting boyfriend, Paul could see that ever since Bev and Simon had left Jim was very preoccupied with something. When he noticed someone looking at him, he’d realise he’d went all introspective and he’d smile and be attentive, before slowly drifting back into his silent contemplation. He supposed Jim was doing something he’d found himself doing a lot this weekend himself. Thinking about the future. Where would their paths take them after this last year together. In his head, Paul’s mind ran along paths he’d been considering a lot recently. He was thinking about perhaps it was time to settle down with one man. Although he hadn’t said to Jim yet, fearful of what reaction he might get he had been considering marriage and (once they had stable jobs), adopting a kid. Or maybe a few of them. Society had moved on a lot in the past few decades and he was sure the pair of them would make great dads.

Assuming anyway that Jim managed to avoid getting done for possession. It had been great at the start having a connection to the party line, but increasingly Jim’s dealing had been worrying Paul, although Jim had assured him it was just a temporary measure to get through University. Unlike the rest of them Jim had been born into a family on the breadline, and would have struggled to afford the fee’s and loans involved in his education. There were good reasons why more than half the students at Stirling (much like St Andrews), came from outside Scotland. Jim had been born in what was practically a ghetto in Edinburgh. A single misstep and he could have ended up (and could still end up) as a poster child for Trainspotting. Still, none of them were even well off when compared to the money Simon seemed to have.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on October 26, 2018, 10:50:17 AM
When this story is finished, Alex, I hope you put it in a single file and re-post it. I am enjoying being interested in it, and I am not making guesses.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on October 26, 2018, 10:55:14 AM
Just for you Ellie, when I finish it I will send you the copy from Word I write it on.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on October 26, 2018, 11:17:05 AM
Just for you Ellie, when I finish it I will send you the copy from Word I write it on.

Danke!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 02, 2018, 06:02:33 AM
It was a nice day and Paul was finding the walking going easier than the previous day. He relaxed and enjoyed it, wishing Jim could do the same. He’d drifted back on whatever path his thoughts were taking him down and his brow was furrowed. He kept glancing over his shoulder. Was he worried about Si and Bev getting lost? Paul leaned in to him and whispered “They will be fine. I am sure they will catch us up after we make camp.”
Jim looked surprised for a second, then gathered his thoughts “Oh, yeah, I am sure they will be.”

Paul decided he should keep talking to his lover, keep him from whatever was keeping him so preoccupied. It was hard going to keep a conversation up though. Jim gave answers that did not invite further replies. Paul was not one to give up easily though and just kept on talking to him, a mostly one-sided conversation about whatever entered his head. This continued for several hours.

Eventually, Chris called a halt for the night and the group set to putting up their tents (including Bev and Simons). Ali set to cooking up a meal, deciding to gather up some wood and cook it on a camp fire rather than use the portable gas stoves. She wrapped potatoes in tin foil and buried them in the firewood before lighting them. Setting up a camping stool as a makeshift table she set up some spreading cheese and more beans on a pot over the fire.

Paul could have done without a second day of beans. The smell in the tent had been terrible when he’d woken up this morning.

Bev fished the potatoes out of the fire, unwrapped them and sliced them open, then spread some cheese along the insides, sprinkled some herbs and served them up to the others. Just how much stuff had she managed to fit in her backpack? Even as a child Paul had found women’s ability to squeeze an incredible amount of stuff in to their bags. Of course, it had been handbags back then. Even today he had a healthy fear of handbags and would never go in one. He was glad no one else had picked up on this phobia. He could only imagine the things of his they’d hide in one. The group sat around as the after chatting about inconsequential things as the afternoon faded into the evening and light started to fail.

There was still no sign of Bev or Simon. Jim was clearly worried and Paul himself felt some concern, but Ali and Chris argued that it would be foolish to go trying to find them in the dark. All that would happen would be they would end up separated and lost. The best they could do was keep the fire burning as a signal to guide the errant walkers to them. If they still hadn’t turned up by morning, and of course they were sure they be then they would start a search. They agreed to take it in turns to sit watch and listen for the missing pair in case they tried shouting. Chris offered to go first, saying he would sit up until midnight. Paul would relieve him (at which Paul sn****red and made some innuendos), and then Jim would take over until first light when he’d wake everyone up if there was still no sign of Bev and Simon.

Paul gave a very worried looking Jim a shoulder massage hoping to relax him a little and then they headed off to their tent, as did Ali, leaving Chris sitting alone, the firelight flickering over his face, shadows playing across him and making him look like some ancient guardian of the wilderness.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 02, 2018, 06:25:00 AM
Sunday.

Jim.

Jim was deep in the middle of an uneasy dream. Half seen things were clawing at him, trying to drag him under the waters of some monstrous sea. He awoke with a start as Paul gently touched his shoulder.

“Hey lover, your turn on watch” Paul told him.

“No sign of them then?”

“Absolutely nothing” was the bleak reply, “I’ve kept the fire banked up, and there is plenty of spare wood to keep it going.”

“What could have happened?”

“Maybe they decided just to head back early. Simon most likely is sitting in that pub winding up the locals while Bev is waggling her arse at anything remotely man like.”

“Yeah… maybe. Do you think we should go looking for them? We could leave a note for Ali and Chris, tell them to meet us back at the cars.”

“Look, it will be light in a few hours. Chris was right, there is no point in us wandering around in the darkness. The last thing we need to do is to trip over some tree root and break a leg. As soon as the light comes up we’ll get organised and find them. Don’t worry, it will all be fine. You’ll see.”

“I guess,” Jim replied, although he sounded unconvinced.

Paul climbed into his sleeping bag as Jim got out to start his watch. As he left the tent, he turned around and flashed Paul a worried smile before closing the zip of the tent.

Jim walked over to the fire, but rather than sitting down started to pace back and forward. He peered into the darkness, willing himself to be able to see through it and see his missing friends. His concern about how what Simon had planned had faded, and he was now more worried that something serious had happened. They had wolves in the highlands, didn’t they? Maybe the occasional bear? Of course, the newspapers regularly had pictures of large wild cats on the loose in places like this.

Still the darkness remained complete and impenetrable.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 02, 2018, 09:17:59 AM
Paul.

Paul’s eyes opened suddenly. The light filtering through his tent immediately told him something was wrong. Why hadn’t Jim woken him up as soon as it got light? He quickly pulled some clothes on, calling Jim’s name. Even before he’d left the tent he knew Jim wasn’t there. He must have wandered off during the night to find Bev and Si. f**king idiot, what the hell was he thinking? If they were lucky he would just be wandering around somewhere and not lying in a ditch somewhere. Stumbling over his sleeping bag, Paul almost fell out the tent. “Ali! Chris! Wake up. Jim’s bloody well went on a walkabout”

He heard a muffled shout from their tent as he looked around for any sign of Jim, hoping to see some muddy footprints, or a scrap of fabric handily caught on a branch. The kind of thing that always seems to happen in the movies. “JIIIIIM!” he yelled as loud as he could, turning around to look everywhere.

He saw Chris come scrabbling out of his tent, wearing only his jeans. “What the hell” he exclaimed.

“We need to head off, start looking. It’s ten o’clock already. He could have been out there wandering since four!”

Paul tried to keep himself calm, but his words came tumbling out, tripping over one another as his voice went up into a high pitch.

“Calm down mate. We’ll pack the tents up and get looking.”

“Calm down? Calm bloody down? First Si and Bev get lost and now Jim too. How many more of us need to go missing before you start to worry?”

“Ok Paul, you head off back the way we came. Keep going and if you find any of them, take them with you back to the village. Just in case Si and Bev stumbled past the camp during the night, we’ll keep going along the planned route and see if we can pick them up. This time tonight, we’ll all be having a beer with those twats laughing at us for panicking. Every couple of minutes, shout out just in case they have wandered away from the water’s edge. Don’t worry about your gear, we’ll sort it all out.”

Without another word, Paul set off back the way they had come yesterday. He called out Jim’s name repeatedly, hoping against hope to hear an answering shout. Occasionally he would remember the others who were missing and shout their names too, but most of the time it was only Jim who was on his mind. Scenarios ran through his mind where he found imaging finding Jim paralyzed after a fall and them spending the rest of their lives together, having to look after him or some other equally bad tragedy.
After an hour and a half or so of shouting, Paul’s voice was getting horse and his throat was raw from the constant yelling. With every step the panic in him rose, his heart hammering in his chest. He realised he had brought nothing with him, no food and nothing to drink. For a second the thought about heading back to the campsite to pick up some supplies, but he realised they would most likely have packed up and were searching the other side of the loch, and besides he was too worried about Jim to head back now.

Oh, sweet Jesus Christ.

He spotted a familiar looking jacket floating on the gentle waves of the loch with something underneath it.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 02, 2018, 04:08:53 PM
Chris.

Chris had watched Paul’s retreating back as he left to look for Jim until distance and foliage obscured him from view. Every few steps he was calling out Jim’s name. He’d left without taking a first aid kit, or a flare so if he did find Jim wounded he wouldn’t be able to do much. He hadn’t taken any food or water either, although he could always drink from the loch Chris supposed, but with the pace he was setting it wouldn’t be long until he was exhausted.

With a heavy sigh, Chris headed back into his tent where a naked Ali was waiting for him. They’d head off soon enough, but there was no point in rushing these thing and what Ali had in mind for the pair of them was much more entertaining than looking for some idiot who had vanished in the night.

Afterwards, and glad of the privacy everyone else being lost had given them they lay together, Ali’s head resting on his chest. Chris ran his fingers through her hair, causing Ali to giggle as he touched a ticklish spot. “Do you think he will find him?” she asked.

Chris shrugged. “If he sticks to the water’s edge… maybe. Depends where Jim wandered off. Hell, he might have even walked in entirely the wrong direction. If he had been doing some of Paul’s special marching powder, who knows what direction he went off in.”

“Should we get dressed and head off.”

“Hmmm, we should do. But there is something else I want first.”

He rolled over, climbing on top of her, and kissing her neck while Ali held him close and pretended to struggle against him, while wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him in towards her.

They spent the rest of the morning alternately making love and just lying there together holding each other, before deciding it was time to leave. They finished packing their clothes, made sure the fire was smothered and then Ali asked, “Should we pack the tents too?”

“We can come back and get them later. Don’t want to carry too much and weigh ourselves down. After all, if we get injured I don’t think we can expect any of the others to come riding to our rescue.”

“Poor dears, I hope they are all ok.”

Chris raised an eyebrow.

Alison.

Ali pouted at Chris, “Oh come on now. They’ve been our friends for three years now. You can’t seriously tell me you don’t care if they have been hurt or not.”

“Sure, I guess” he replied non committedly. She picked up a handful of leaves and threw them at him. He glared at her in mock outrage. “Right, now you are in trouble!”

Alison laughed and ran off, Chris following pretending to chase her as they set off further along their path.

They walked along listening to the gentle lap of the water. Chris heard a strange noise, distorted by distance, but it might have been Paul shouting for Jim. He glanced at Ali and saw her cocking her head to listen. “Don’t worry, we’ll meet up with them back at the rendezvous. In the meantime we might as well make the best of what is left of our walk.”

“Are we doing the right thing honey?”

He pulled her close, kissing her deeply, and squeezed her bum with one hand and replied softly “Of course we are baby. Everything is going to work out.”

Hand in hand the pair of them walked along, on one side the clear water of the loch sparkling in the bright sunlight, on the other hand the heather coated hills rose up. She couldn’t help but think it was a shame there weren’t more places like this. So much of the land was coated in concrete and tarmac instead of letting its natural beauty remain, and all for what? Still this place looked almost untouched with only the occasional sheep to indicate there was any other people anywhere out there. The waters looked fantastically inviting and Ali wished more than anything that they could just stop for a while and take a swim. They had spent too much time on diversions already, as pleasant as that had been and needed to make good time. She could imagine swimming on the surface, the cold water beneath her and the warm sun on her back before diving down into the chilly depths and seeing how deep she could reach before having to return to the surface. Recently she'd noticed she was getting much better at staying under for longer and she loved the feeling of it.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 03, 2018, 05:13:08 AM
Simon.

Simon opened his eyes with a violent start, jerking his body upright. He couldn’t see anything. He felt freezing cold and tried to stand up, but his legs were weak and shaky forcing him to sit back down. His head ached where… Suddenly the memories came flooding back. He cried out as he remembered everything that had happened and he sobbed Bev’s name, tears coming easily to a man who had never once cried in his adult life.

It has all been going perfectly. He’d took Bev back to a large flat stone they’d passed by earlier that he thought suitable for his purpose, talking dirty to each other the whole time. He started kissing her, first tenderly, but increasingly getting more passionate. Pretty quickly, things had gotten more serious and Bev enthusiastically agreed to sex outside. His hand slipped inside her panties, playing with her until she felt wet enough. By that time he needed to be in her more than he’d ever needed anything. Simon remembered practically ripped her clothes off there and then (some of her clothes got a bit torn at this point), using them to make a rough bed on the rock, then telling her to get on her knees. She knelt on the ground, head down and skinny ass sticking up in the air. Absurdly Simon thought of a nature program he’d once saw with a female baboon offering herself up for mating and had to supress a laugh. He knelt down behind her, guiding himself so that just the tip of his manhood was inside her, and then grabbing an ass cheek in each hand thrust himself inside hard. Things were going well and Simon decided it was time to put all the long discussions with Jim into play as Bev was too deep in the throes of passion to see what he was doing until it would be too late. If she realised what was happening… well it would all be over. Taking his hands off her body, he reached inside his jacket, pulling out the secret he had stashed in there before the trip had started. Finding preparing it, while f**king her was to say the least difficult but he did his best, switching hands, then reaching out with one to grab Bev’s hair and pull him back towards him. He was too far into the moment to do things the way he had carefully discussed with him and forgot his careful plan When his other hand came down, object still in hand, Bev screamed in a way he had never thought a human being could scream.

It was a scream he would remember for the rest of his life.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 03, 2018, 02:33:11 PM
Bev.
An interlude.


Bev could feel herself  building to an orgasm quickly. The feeling of doing the forbidden had turned her on more than she would have ever believed. Her body writhed with the feeling, and then suddenly her entire body seemed to be on fire with pain. She tried to move forward, but Simon’s grip on her hair, yanked her head back painfully. It took her a few seconds to realise the inhuman screaming she could hear was coming from her.

Staggering to her feet, her hand reached around in disbelief behind her. Her eyes and mouth were wide open as her hand groped behind her not quite comprehending what had just happened and  feeling for the thing Simon had just stuck in her.

She yelled “WHAT THE f**k SI?” as she ripped the butt plug he had just rammed hard into her rectum back out. “WHAT THE ACTUAL f**k?”

Simon, has face a mask of panic as he stumbled for the right words to say. For once he found his charm not quite up to the situation. Bev came storming over to him and he took a few steps back, but she didn’t stop until she was nose to nose with him, the vibrating butt plug still in her hand as she waved it around furiously. She wanted to call him every name under the sun, but all she could manage to get out was to repeat “WHAT THE f**k!” over and over again. Finally she got her brain in gear and she unleashed a tide of vitriol the likes Simon had never heard before in his somewhat sheltered life. Calling him a filthy f**king animal was the least of it. Simon was shocked by her verbal assault and was unable to make a few strangled noises. He almost fell off the rock they were standing on, as he retreated before Bev’s fury.

Still, the look of shock on Simon’s face when she slapped him was palpable. Bev stopped for a second, shocked at what she had done, and then her anger rose again and she unleashed a wave of physical attacks, wind milling at him, trying to hit him. Simon raised his arms to protect himself as the attempted punches came in thick and fast. She had no idea how long she tried to hit him for, but eventually her rage exhausted her and she simply stood there glaring at him, both still naked.

Perhaps things would have ended there, had Simon not suddenly burst out in peels’  of laughter. Bev threw the still vibrating butt plug at him, which bounced off his chest and fell to the ground, which only made Simon laugh more. Incensed Bev prepared to launch another assault, but a loud roaring noise from the sky above made her look up. A pair of fighter jets were flying overhead and Bev suddenly aware of her nudity went to grab her jacket. It lay on the far edge of the rock, overhanging the loch. As she bent over to scoop her bright pink jacket up. As she did, the butt plug smacked into the back of her head as Simon threw it back to her. Bev felt herself overbalance and fall into the water. She hit the bottom of the loch, and suddenly her leg exploded in pain. The water was churning and mud was kicked up by her struggles. She couldn’t see what was wrong with her leg but it felt like a shark had sunk its teeth into her leg, pinning it in a kneeling position. She tried to  scream but only managed to swallow a mouthful of water.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Bad Penny on November 03, 2018, 04:26:34 PM
Bev.

Bev could feel herself  building to an orgasm quickly. The feeling of doing the forbidden had turned her on more than she would have ever believed. Her body writhed with the feeling, and then suddenly her entire body seemed to be on fire with pain. She tried to move forward, but Simon’s grip on her hair, yanked her head back painfully. It took her a few seconds to realise the inhuman screaming she could hear was coming from her.

Staggering to her feet, her hand reached around in disbelief behind her. Her eyes and mouth were wide open as her hand groped behind her not quite comprehending what had just happened and  feeling for the thing Simon had just stuck in her.

She yelled “WHAT THE f**k SI?” as she ripped the butt plug he had just rammed hard into her rectum back out. “WHAT THE ACTUAL f**k?”

Simon, has face a mask of panic as he stumbled for the right words to say. For once he found his charm not quite up to the situation. Bev came storming over to him and he took a few steps back, but she didn’t stop until she was nose to nose with him, the vibrating butt plug still in her hand as she waved it around furiously. She wanted to call him every name under the sun, but all she could manage to get out was to repeat “WHAT THE f**k!” over and over again. Finally she got her brain in gear and she unleashed a tide of vitriol the likes Simon had never heard before in his somewhat sheltered life. Calling him a filthy f**king animal was the least of it. Simon was shocked by her verbal assault and was unable to make a few strangled noises. He almost fell off the rock they were standing on, as he retreated before Bev’s fury.

Still, the look of shock on Simon’s face when she slapped him was palpable. Bev stopped for a second, shocked at what she had done, and then her anger rose again and she unleashed a wave of physical attacks, wind milling at him, trying to hit him. Simon raised his arms to protect himself as the attempted punches came in thick and fast. She had no idea how long she tried to hit him for, but eventually her rage exhausted her and she simply stood there glaring at him, both still naked.

Perhaps things would have ended there, had Simon not suddenly burst out in peels’  of laughter. Bev threw the still vibrating butt plug at him, which bounced off his chest and fell to the ground, which only made Simon laugh more. Incensed Bev prepared to launch another assault, but a loud roaring noise from the sky above made her look up. A pair of fighter jets were flying overhead and Bev suddenly aware of her nudity went to grab her jacket. It lay on the far edge of the rock, overhanging the loch. As she bent over to scoop her bright pink jacket up. As she did, the butt plug smacked into the back of her head as Simon threw it back to her. Bev felt herself overbalance and fall into the water. She hit the bottom of the loch, and suddenly her leg exploded in pain. The water was churning and mud was kicked up by her struggles. She couldn’t see what was wrong with her leg but it felt like a shark had sunk its teeth into her leg, pinning it in a kneeling position. She tried to  scream but only managed to swallow a mouthful of water.

Wwwwow.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 07, 2018, 04:30:30 PM
The thing gripping her leg was dragging her down, but sheer panic managed to propel her to the surface, where she managed to suck in a quick lungful of air and then let out an almighty scream. She saw Simon who had been laughing and waiting for her to surface, the laughter dying instantly. For a few seconds he froze, and then his mind started working again. He tore his jacket off, and pulled his jeans up from around his knees as he ran to the edge of the rock, and dived into the water. He swam over to Bev, whose flailing arms threatened to drown them both.

Panic overwhelming her, Bev tried desperately to grab for Simon, who had to fight her off to stop from dragged under. She felt him manage to turn her around so her back was against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, then attempted to kick them both back towards the shoreline. Her wet and naked body was slippery and combined with her panicked struggles, she kept breaking loose of Simon's grip, and the thing grabbing her leg stopped them from moving to the land. She managed in between incoherent screams to shout "MY LEG, MY LEG!"

She felt him let go of her, and immediently she was dragged under the surface. Something was bumping into her, and grabbing her, but after a few more seconds she realised it was Simon.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 08, 2018, 01:05:00 PM
He was groping around her injured leg, trying to prise whatever had a grip on her off her, while at the same time trying to support her above the water. She felt the pressure lesson for a few moments, and then renew as it dug into her flesh once more bringing fresh screams from her. Simon, spluttering surfaced beside her, holding her again afloat against his chest. She could barely comprehend his words as he told her “Bae, you are stuck in a f**king bear trap. I can’t open the f**king thing. You need to calm down baby. I need to find a branch or something to lever it open, but you need to calm down and keep yourself afloat. Can you do that for me bae? I need to leave you for a minute but I’ll be right back.”

She renewed her screaming, begging her not to leave her for a moment, and trying to grab onto him, twisting around to face him. Her blood was staining the water, which was all churned up and frothing from her struggles. Yet only a few feet away the rest of the loch seemed placid and uncaring of the struggle going on in one small corner of it, until Bev saw something rise up out of the water behind Simon.

Her screams suddenly died, chocked off in her throat. Simon thought she was finally calming down and kept reassuring her that he would be right back. He just had to grab a branch off a tree, maybe he’d even find one that was already broken off and return to her all the quicker. Bev’s eyes grew wide in horror and her mouth was wide open, but no noise came from her. The thing was in the rough shape of a human, although it had to be eight feet tall. It was already huge, but to Bev’s terrified mind it seemed to be swelling and growing larger, it’s shadow reaching over the waves until it touched them. As the shadow grew and blocked out the sun, it got much colder in its shade. Perhaps it was this, or perhaps it was Bev’s unwavering stare that warned Simon that something was up, and he twisted his head around to look over his shoulder.

The thing must have stood at least twenty feet over the waves, and grew larger still. Bev stared into its black, froglike eyes, its wide mouth marked by thin lips. Webbed fingers with cruel looking talons reached towards them, seemingly infinitely slowly as time slowed down to a crawl. Its body was covered in fish like scales, although these were dull green and not the silvery coating she had seen on fish in the supermarkets. For a second the word ‘squamous’ jumped into her head, although she didn’t remember ever hearing it before. The scaled paw reaching towards them grabbed Simon and carelessly tossed him to one side, sending him flying into the trees. Frozen in fear, Bev started to sink beneath the water, her bladder venting its contents. As she sank beneath the surface, she saw the gigantic webbed hand reaching towards her before unconsciousness mercifully claimed her.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 08, 2018, 03:19:50 PM
Simon.
(Continued).

Simon remembered trying to loosen the bear trap and telling Bev he needed to help to get her out. Then something had happened… Had something swept him ashore? Surely you didn’t get tidal waves from a loch? For a second he thought he saw something else in the water… but it must have been a trick of the light and a bit of shock.

His chest felt battered and bruised. Even just breathing brought a thousand screams of pain. He couldn’t tell if he couldn’t see because it was dark, or if he’d went blind. That thought sent an uncontrollable wave of panic through him, and he curled up into a ball, half speaking to himself, half gibbering unintelligibly. He had no idea how long he lay there in the dark, or when his thoughts started to form a more coherent stream. Questions raced through his mind. Who the hell dumped a bear trap in a lake? Had some sicko dumped it there, hoping to catch an unwitting tourist? It would be one hell of a coincidence if someone happened to jump into the water at just the right point. Where was he? Tenderly he got up on his feet, running his hands over his body. His chest felt like a mass of painful spots, although he didn’t think anything was broken. His arms and legs were covered in scratches, but nothing too serious. He could feel a hard lump against the side of his stomach, and worried about internal bleeding. He had to find where he was, and get help. Hopefully whatever had knocked him out of the water had saved Bev too.

Then a sudden thought stuck him like a thunderbolt. Had the locals from the village done this? Had they followed them on their walk, picking them off. Where were the others? He remembered a film he’d watched a couple of years ago about a pyscho picking up hitchhikers and killing them in Australia. The rational part of his mind told him this was nonsense, but the older, more survival orientated part of his brain would not shut up. The others must have noticed they were missing and raised an alarm by now (unless of course they had been captured, or killed his thoughts told him). Starting with whatever bed he had been lying on, he worked his way to the wall and started feeling around. The walls were rough, cold and damp. Was he in a cellar? It couldn’t be a cave. There was a faint fishy smell in the air. Slowly feeling his way around, he almost fell over something on the group that clattered metallically as it fell and rolled away. Exploring a little, he found what he guessed was an empty tin of paint. Deciding it was something useless to him, he abandoned it and returned to his careful exploration of the room. He banged his head slightly against what turned out to be some shelves, with assorted items he couldn’t even guess at what they were from touching them. He found a wooden door which was locked, and when he tried charging it with his shoulder it didn’t budge even slightly, and the waves of nausea that overwhelmed him, driving him to his knees. It took a few minutes for him to recover and realise this was not going to be his escape route. Further exploration of the room yielded no further results. He considered trying to break the door down again, but decided against it in his weakened condition. He limped back over to his rough bed and lay down on it, attempting to conserve his strength. Despite his predicament and the rush of thoughts running through his head he fell into a doze, and eventually a fitful sleep.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 08, 2018, 03:58:22 PM
Monday.

Simon.

When Simon awoke, he could see a dim flickering light. Twisting around gingerly in the bed, he could see while he slept someone had put a lit candle in the dank room he seemed to be a prisoner in. His throat burned from thirst, and his stomach growled. Retrieving the candle, he used it to have a closer look at himself. His chest was a purple mass, and the lump in his side had either went down, or it wasn’t quite as bad as it had felt in the dark, although it seemed to have a large red tip. He hoped whatever had caused the injury, it hadn’t become infected.

His body still aching all over and freezing cold without any clothes to protect him from the chill, he got up and tried the door on the off chance his captor had left it unlocked. The door was still locked just had solidly as it had been before. One thing he hadn’t noticed in his earlier search was the door did have a narrow slot in it, like a letter box, perhaps five centimetres off the ground, maybe thirty centimetres long. Simon had a very uneasy feeling about that.

He had a look around the room again, and on remembering the shelves he had found earlier went looking for them. Maybe something on there could help him out. His heart climbed at this faint ray of hope, only to be dashed when he found it contained only a number of curiously designed ornamental jewellery. Perhaps it was the poor light from the candle, but they seemed to be an unusual shade of gold, and in the vague shape of a tiara or crown, although designed for a head somewhat larger than that of any person he’d ever met. His anger rose up and he ran to the door, shouting and pounding his fists against the solid wood, not feeling the pain that coursed through his body as he did so. He howled and yelled but the door was unyielding and made from thick wooden planks, not your usual cheap household things.

Didn’t these people know who he was? How dare they treat him like this! Defeated, his shoulders slumped and he headed back to the bed, kicking the empty paint tin as he passed it. The clang as it ricocheted off the wall was shockingly loud to him.

He heard something loud crash against the door, followed by a scream of pain. Seeing the paint tin as the closest thing he had to a weapon, he picked it up and stood with his back to the wall beside the door, waiting to attack whoever came through that door. He was rich, he wasn’t going to die in this s**thole!


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 08, 2018, 04:52:59 PM
Paul.

Paul slowly regained consciousness, his wits still temporarily scattered. Something was tugging on his leg continually, and this bed felt cold and uncomfortable. He raised his head and looked down, not quite comprehending what he was seeing.

Why was someone dragging him by his leg? He looked from side to side. There was the loch on one side, and the sparsely wooded hills covered in heather on the other. Yeah, that seemed ok, but the leg thing was confusing him. He grunted as his head banged off a rock he was dragged over. At this noise, his companion turned his head around enough to see him. Oh, I know you, thought Paul. You are the ugly barman. It finally got through Paul’s head that something was very wrong indeed here. Aiming a kick at the large man’s backside, he shoved him forward, making him stumble and release his leg. He scrambled to his feet and started running back the way he’d been dragged. With a roar though, the ogrish barman was chasing him, and quickly caught up with him, buffeting Paul with a blow from a ham sized fist. Jim slammed into a pine tree, and groaned as he tried to run again, but his legs didn’t want to obey him. The man grabbed him, and slung him under one arm, carrying him as effortlessly as he would a small child despite his best attempts to escape. Up ahead, he could see their destination. The tiny village they’d visited on the first night.

He was carried toward the pub. As they reached the door, the man hit Jim again in the head, causing him to see stars, then opened the front door. Despite his own predicament, Paul wondered if this is what happened to Bev. He’d recognised her jacket floating on the loch and thinking she was still wearing it, he’d dived in to rescue her. What he’d thought was a body was only a submerged log the jacket had been caught on, but as he’d been climbing up the steep embankment from the water, something (most likely the barman) had hit him and Jim had known no more until he’d woken up being dragged by him, or it as Paul was rapidly coming to think of him as. ‘It’, opened another door, revealing a stone staircase leading down into the earth with a very old fashioned looking wooden door at the bottom. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in a medieval castle.

Paul suddenly found himself being swung around by ‘It’ so he was being held in both of his massive fists for a few seconds, and then he found himself flying as ‘It’ launched him down the stairs. He landed badly at the bottom, his ankle catching on one of the steps and breaking with an audible snap. Paul looked in horror at the blooded stump of bone protruding from the side of his leg, and then after a few moments the pain hit him like a steam train. ‘It’ followed him down the stairs, walking slowly and ignored him writhing there in agony while he opened the door. Paul heard a clanging noise and ‘It’ staggered back, followed by a naked man barrelling into him through the open door. The naked man however tripped over Paul's injured leg, smashing into the stone steps. ‘It’ simply picked the nudist up with one arm, spat on his face and tossed him back into the room, then threw Paul in no less roughly before slamming the heavy door shut, leaving the pair of them trapped inside.

JPaul grabbed his shattered ankle and rolled around in his own private world of pain. A voice speaking his name however did cause him to look up. For a second he didn’t realise who was speaking to him. The collision with the stone steps had broken his nose and shattered a few teeth giving him a bit of an impediment when he spoke but it was Simon! Simon unashamedly embraced him “I am sho glad to she you”, Simon tried to speak in between spitting out mouthfuls of blood mixed with shards of teeth.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 08, 2018, 07:02:36 PM
"Have you sheen anyone elsh?" Simon asked through mangled lips.

"I haven't seen anyone. I walked all day and night," Paul replied through gritted teeth, rocking back and forward while nursing his foot. His voice was horse from the shouting he'd been doing. He dug desperately through his jacket pockets until he found what he was looking for. "Oh thank you God!" he exclaimed as he found some pills and quickly swallowed them. He continued looking through, hoping to find some additional drugs, but he came up blank. Sweating heavily and cursing he lay back down on the cold ground. "I saw Bev's jacket... thought she was drowning and tried to save her, but... she wasn't there. That f**ker upstairs hit me and dragged me back here. How did you end up here."

Whatever drugs he had found weren't get dulling down the pain. He really hoped he hadn't popped something that would make him feel more sensitive to pain. "Do you know where anyone else is?"

As he watched Simon sat down heavily on ancient looking bedframe with a equally antiquated looking mattress. He shook his head and sighed heavily.



Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 09, 2018, 05:36:56 AM
"Dey got Bev. Shesh fell in the water and schreamed. I jumped into shave her, but her leg wash caught in a f**king bear trap. I couldn't get it open and then shomething s**t me hard. I got knocked out and woke up in sheer."

It took Paul a few moments to translate what Simon was actually saying. Some of the injuries on Simon's face looked like they were going to leave scars. His good looks weren't going to be quite the same when it all healed up.

A treacherous voice at the back of his head said to him "If he lives long enough for them to heal."

"Shince den I've schtuck in dis place. It wash dark. I fell ashleep and when I woke shomeone had put shat candle in here. NO- ONE HAS f**kING GIVEN ME ANY FOOD OR WATER THOUGH, YOU DASTARDS!" he yelled, looking up at the ceiling, then sighing again continued "I shink it is the lair of shome demented artist. You sheen the jewellery?"

Simon motioned towards the oversized headpieces on the shelf, then remembering Paul wouldn't be walking anywhere anytime soon, went over, picked up a few pieces of the bizarre artworkt and brought it over for Paul to look at. "These pieces don't confirm to any known school of art I can think of. Either the designer is a genius or an idiot."

"Great", mumbled Si "I get to shpend my last hours alive with a monshter out of a bad movie and an art critic. I don't know which of you shucks more."

Even trapped in the cellar with no idea how to escape Paul couldn't resist saying "Oh, I promise I suck more, and better sweetheart."

After that the pair lapsed into silence for a while. Paul continued looking at the strange jewellery, while Simon lay in a pit of dispair. They were both startled by a clattering noise from behind them. A tin plate had been shoved through the narrow slot at the bottom of the door, and on it were slices of cooked meat. A plastic bottle of water followed, bouncing off the steaming food and rolling onto the floor. Simon got up again, picked up the bottle and plate then returned to the bed, handing the both to Paul who sniffed the meat. "Doesn't smell poisioned."

"How the f**k would you know?" Demanded Simon. "Anyway, if dey wanted us dead, I don't dink either of ush could put up much of a fight."

Paul picked up the water, opened it and guzzled half of it down.

"Hey you greedy prick, shave shome of dat for me" protested Simon, "And ration it, we don't know when we'll get any more."

Paul looked at Simon, who seemed to have no interest in the food. "Tuck in, we should keep our strength up. Soner or later they'll let their guard down and we can escape. I wonder what they want us for?"

"You kidding me right? Ishn't it obvious? Dis little s**thole at the ash end of nowhere. Everyone has to be poor right? Dey figured out when we were drinking here that I am rich. It's a kidnapping. I bet my parents have already deen sent a ranshom."

Paul picked up a strip of meat and started chewing on it. It was tough, and tasted slightly salty although not entirely unpleasant. Neither had eaten for quite a while and any food was welcome. Simon chewed much more slowly and carefully, his mouth full of broken and loose teeth painful to eat with. "My dentisht is going to charge a fortune to fix dis mess" he said through a mouthful of meat, washing it down with the remained of the water from the bottle, forgetting his warning to Paul about rationing it. Paul looked forelornly at the now emtpy bottle but said nothing. He didn't want to waste what might be his last hours alive in a pointless argument. Then an unbidden thought did cheer him up. If their captors intended to kill them, surely they wouldn't bother feeding them or giving them the mediocre light they'd been provided with. Maybe they did have a chance of getting out of here?


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 09, 2018, 06:16:13 AM
Chris .

Chris and Ali watched unseen as Paul was carried by the barman towards the inn. Paul was trying to fight, but he didn't seem to be slowing the brute down any. He looked around at Ali, who watched the unfolding scene beside him.

"He is taking him into the pub. I think we need to get back to the car and get out of here. Let the others handle this."

"Chris, he is our friend. The others might be in there too. We can't just abandon them, we have to get in there."

"Alright honey. I guess this proves that when I said I'd do anything for you, I really meant it. Lets ditch our packs here."

Chris was interupted by an unholy howl of pain from the direction of the bar. "You sure you want to go in there?"

"If we don't I am not sure I could live with myself."

"Fine then," he signed, shucking his pack on the ground. "Lets at least try not to be seen."

They removed their brightly coloured jackets as Chris put on a look of determination. Doing his best John Wayne impression "Well pilgrim, lets saddle up," he said and in a half crouching run, set off to the village. It was as quiet as when they had visited the other night though and they saw no signs of life on the street. During the day, the sense of decay of the houses was even more pronounced. Sagging roofs that were long overdue repair, front doors that hadn't seen a lick of paint for decades, lawns overgrown and chocked to death by weeds and the occasional old car, more rust that metal left to die on driveways. It was as if humanity had been wiped out, and nature was reclaiming the place.

The pair snuck up to the pub, and tried to peer in through the grime encrusted window. Using the cuff of his jumper, Chris managed to smear the dirt around, allowing him a narrow view inside. He saw the barman appear from an open doorway, walk through the bar and then disappear into a rear room. "Ok, its clear but we better be quick."

Chris silently pulled the door to the pub open, and they both slipped inside. In a careful whisper he told Ali "He just came through the door there," and pointed to the still open door leading down into the cellar. They snuck over the smooth stone floor and down the stairs. The heavy wooden door had a stout wooden bar across it, holding it firmly shut. Chris lifted the bar while Ali kept watch for the return of the man.

The door creaked slowly open outwards, a noise Chris was sure must be rousing the entire village.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 09, 2018, 02:11:16 PM
Alison.

"Paul, you in here?" Ali hissed as the door opened.

"Oh dank f**k," a voice answered. Footsteps came walking towards the door, carrying a dim and flickering light. Simon appeared out of the darkness. He was completely naked, his face and chest a battered and bruised mess, although it was the large lump in his side that Ali could not take her eyes off. "Oh you poor dear, what happened to you" she asked as she embraced him.

"Hi folks, nice to see you."

Ali looked further into the darkness, "Paul" she exclaimed in an excited squeal. "We saw you being brought in here. How are you."

He pointed limply at his twisted, the snapped bone, still protruding from the side of his bloodsoaked sock. Ali blanched a little at the sight of that. "Oh that is just awful. I am so sorry sweetie. I'll have Hamish take a look at it right away."

Slightly confused Paul stuttered slightly "Who, who, who the hell is Hamish? Look we need to get out of here. Medical attention can wait. I'll limp out of here on one leg f I have to."

"Oh we couldn't do that. Not when we went to so much effort to get you here."

Both Paul and Simon had shocked expressions on their faces. She could tell they were wondering if this was all some sick joke being played on them or what.

"Its a complicated story, but I'll explain it as best as I can. Me and Chris come from a small town in New England called Innsm... No wait, I need to go back a bit. Human's aren't the only intelligent race on the planet. There are many others. We have many names. Mostly we call ourselves the Deep Ones, although I prefer the Dwellers Below. We come from beneath the deepest oceans. You are one of the Dwellers Above, or as you call yourselves humans. There are others out there, like the Dwellers Between, but they are seriously icky and gross and well, you don't need to concern yourselves with them. I doubt there is one of them within a hundred miles of us right now anyway. We think our species must all have had a common ancestor somewhere along the line since we can all interbreed with each other. Half breeds like me and Chris here, well we are born looking human, but as we age we slowly transform becoming more and more like our non human brethren. At that point we take to the sea where we live forever in the splendor beneath the waves, worshipping our lord, he who waits for the stars to be right. We came over here, to shake up the gene pool a bit, intorduce some new blood. "

Ali's hand automatically moved to make a sign at the mention of her lord, a completely unconscious thing, a familiar routine to her. Beside her Chris echoed the gesture. Paul and Simon just stared at her as if she had gone insane.

"Normally our race is immortal, unless we die violently or from some disease and this is where the problem comes in. All that pollution you silly humans have been pouring into the oceans, all those micro plastic beads, well it has been affecting us. Diseases have been killng more and more of us because of you, and we need to keep our numbers up. Another problem we've been finding is that we are having problems carrying live babies to full term.

All because of you filthy humans and the rubbish you dump in the oceans. Hardly fair that you do that and we suffer, but we found a way of letting you help repair the damage. If we use humans, our offspring are born normally. Yes, the aren't born under the sea in the tradional manner we'd all prefer, but needs must. We've actually been here for a while. We walked for a bit and then decided just to swim across the loch and got here early."

Paul's expression said it all. He simply couldn't believe that he was hearing this from Ali. He was her gay BFF. Over the past three years he'd confided everything in her, his worries, his plans for the future and he thought she had confided all her secrets to him. Now, here she was, the glue that had held their group together through thick and thin telling them that they were prisoners of some crazy religious cult! She looked at him, her bright eyes full of understanding.

"I know it is hard to believe sweetie, but we will prove it shortly."

"So you think, you are a member of some ancient race of mermaids and you need people to continue your line? That is seriously what you are telling me. And you Chris, you going along with this? You the man from Atlantis, or maybe Aquaman?" Paul's voice was full of contempt.

"Well, when you put it like that." answered Christ "Yes. That is pretty much it in a nutshell."

"Look you pair, this isn't real. I must have given you some bad stuff. This is all just a bad trip. You'll come down off it, I promise. Right now, I need you to listen to me and help us out."

"Oh sweetie, I really am so sorry for you. Your whole world is coming crashing down around you. We had to pick someone to pick someone to bear our children though. It really is quite an honour though when you think about it. You'll have plenty of time to think about it, and I am sure you'll see it our way eventually."

"I think I've seen this movie. So you need to kipnap our women and breed with them? You are living in a f**king crappy Friday night B movie. We watched this one together! And now you think you need Bev to have a baby?"

Simon who had been sitting, his face a ghastly shade as recent memories he'd dismissed as impossible swam to the surface, suddenly lept to his feet and lunged at Chris, "You touch Bev and I'll rip your f**king head off and s**t down your throat." Chris caught Simon's fist, pulled in towards him, spun him around and pushed him back towards the bed. Simon was shocked at just how strong pudgy old Chris seemed to be.

Bev laughed, a sweet and happy sounding noise, totally at odds with the situation. "Oh don't worry about that Simon, we don't need that dirty skank."

"f**k you, ya bamn btich!"

"Oh don't worry about that sweetie. You already did. You haven't really understood what I've been saying. We don't need human women to bear our young for us. We don't even need you hunky, hah! men to fertilize us. Believe me, Chris did that several times this trip already. I am surprised I can still walk right now."

Beside her Chris blushed as she continued. "You see once we have our egg sacks, we need to implant them into a human for them to survive, and it has to be a male. Something in the female immune system kills our little ones. So once they are ready, we implant them in a suitable host subject and he carries them to term.  When the little darlings are ready, well they will just eat their way right out of you. I am sorry for how painful that will be, but its what we've got to do to survive. And well, lets face it. As members of the human race, you did bring this on yourselves."

"You ain't getting near me." snarled Simon.

"Oh but sweetie, I told you, you already did. While you were lying there unconscious I already laid my precious little babies in you. Thats them right there." She pointed to the discoloured lump in Simon's side."

Simon's hand went to his side, he could swear he could feel things squirming underneath his skin. He threw up noisily, his vomit splattering on the stone floor.

"What about Dev?" he asked imploringly.

"Well, she was unlucky enough to get in the water where we normally offer our sacrifices to Mother Hydra and Father Dagon. They must have been pleasently surprised to turn up in person to accept it. On their behalf, I'd like to thank you for your offering."

"You mean, she, she's dead?"

"Well yes, but if it is any consolation we gathered up the remains, and in a very real sense she is here with you now, and will remain with you until the end. Simon with mounting horror followed her stare to the plate of cooked meat he and Paul had so recently eaten. Now it was Paul's turn to throw up nosily.

"Oh you pair! Now your home is going just stink of vomit and that isn't going to be a very nice thing. No, it isn't" she said in a sing song voice as if talking to a baby. "Poor Hamish is going to have to clean that up, and that just isn't going to make him happy no it isn't."

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand Paul asked "If this is all true why haven't I had eggs laid in me?"

It was Chris's turn to answer "Bloody hell mate, give us a chance. I am not a stud farm you know. Your time will come soon enough. You should be happy about that though. Ali told me how much you wanted to adopt some kids. Well, now you get to go one better and actually give birth to some."

"Anyhoose," interjected Ali "it has been awesome catching up with you, but we aren't really supposed to. Sort of against the rules. We just wanted to let you know how grateful we are for you allowing our little family to be possible. You see in a way, we've all got what we wanted. Simon, you wanted to have sex with me and you got that. Paul, you wanted have a family, Bev... well she wanted to be adored, and now she will be venerated as a bride of our goddess. Don’t be expecting anyone to come looking for you. I wouldn’t want you to be all disappointed when no one does. You see Simon, when we were using your computer we weren’t just doing essays for you to copy. We put a whole diary in there that tells a story about you and the boys serious drug dealing habit. It appears that you spent a load of money you owed to some drug lord and had decided to run off and hide. When we go back tomorrow, we’ll be telling everyone none of you ever showed up for our holiday, but we found your phones in our backpacks. I guess you put them there for anyone tracing your phones as a false lead. By the time it all gets investigated and sorted out, well by then me and Chris will have returned to the oceans. We will think of you often though."

Simon launched at her, but again Chris blocked him, and threw him against the wall. "Don't think I won't hurt you Si. Those little eggs inside you can survive almost anything. I doubt you can say the same about yourself!"

"You sick f**ks, you actually believe any of this is real don't you."

"No sweetie, we know it is. And soon enough you will see the proof too."

"And what about Jim."

It was Ali's turn to look shocked. "Oh! I'd forgotten about poor Jim. Oh well, we have people out looking for him. I sure they will find him soon enough, unless exposure kills him first. Poor dear. I hope they fnd him. I really want to implant into both of you at the same time, so you both give birth together."

"You really are effing demented. You know that right?"

Ali pouted. "Such a potty mouth. Well, I am not going to stay here any longer to listen to this. I'll send Hamish down to sort out your foot. I don't think we'll see you again, but I'll make sure and tell our babies all about you."

She turned around and skipped her way back up the stairs. As she left she heard Chris say "I'd say bye too, but to be honest. I never really liked any of you. I only tolerated you for Ali's sake."

Without another word he turned around and left the pair of them, securing the door behind him.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 09, 2018, 03:05:41 PM
Jim.

Jim was cold, tired and p**sed off. He'd been wandering through the woods looking for Simon and Bev and gotten lost. All he'd had was cold water from the lake and he was starving. More by luck than anythng else he had found his way back to the loch and then followed the waters edge back to the village. He could call for help from there, or maybe the others would be there waiting for him. He was way overdue, it would be getting dark soon and he'd be lucky to make it back in time for his classes tomorrow. If they were sitting in there having drinks, they'd better have a cold one sitting waiting for him. He really hoped he could get some hot food though, and that Simon hadn't p**sed them off again.

He pushed open the door, a big smile crossing his face as he saw Chris and Ali sitting at a table. They looked slightly surprised to see him. The big barman was emerging from a doorway, with stairs leading down and he too smiled as he saw Jim. Chris pointed at him, and the man turned around. Jim's smile fell as he saw what the man was holding. In one hand he held a massive meat cleaver, stained with fresh blood. In the other he held a boot. The stump of a leg protruded from the top of the boot. He recognised the boot as one of a pair he'd bought Paul for his last birthday. The man advanced towards him, raising the cleaver over his head. Chris and Ali were shouting something, but the words didn't quite register in his head,

Jim felt something warm and wet running down his leg. He realised he was definitly going to miss his classes in the morning.

The end.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 09, 2018, 03:41:40 PM
And Ellie, I will send you a full copy of the story when I get back home on Monday.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 12, 2018, 08:03:15 AM
The Redcap's Lair.

   You don't mess around with a Redcap. Everyone in this business knows that much right? Or at least if you don't, well this isn't the  business for you. Murderous little buggers they are and if you make the mistake of spending the night in one of their lairs... well its cap gets dyed a little bit redder. They don't even like others of their kind. And by that I mean faries.

   Its funny to me when I hear that people used to think faries were nice sweet things that granted wishes and made flowers bloom or whatever. There are more types of them than I can count, divided up into two camps. Seelie and Unseelie. The Unseelie are all the vicious and murderous ones. The Seelie, well they might not rip your guts out and wind them around a tree like christmas decorations with your head on top, but well they were still dangerous and to be avoided by anyone with any brains. The fae had always been there, long before we climbed down out of the tree's. Just for whatever inscruitable reasons fae to things they had... faded into the background. When the werewolves repeared though, so did the fae. Well the Were's appeared first. We'd just about figured out what we had to do to kill them when the fae decided to come back. I have no idea if it was the Were's that made them come back, or if it was just coincidence. Doesn't matter either way. By the time they'd stopped fighting pretty much all the major cities were gone. They weren't destroyed, wiped out, desolate ruins with the skeletal remains of buildings reaching up to the sky like broken fingers, a sad monument to the hubris of humanity.

They were just gone, and in their place stood pristine forests. The British Isles went back to how they had looked before mankind cut down the trees. No idea what happened to them or the people that lived in them. You can find the odd friendly Seelie and talk to one. They'll talk about almost anything, but if you ask them what happened to the cities the most you'll get is a smile and a wink. They didn't wipe out all human habitation though. Small villages, farms and suchlike remain. And if you know how to appease the fae then you'll mostly  be left alone. You know, things like leaving out saucers of cream for them, not having spikes on your fence so they can sit on them.  You do that and the Seelie will leave you alone, maybe even put a blessing on your house or do you some favours. You p**s them off however, and well you best be moving away.Far, far away.

You make the mistake of just wandering into Unseelie territory though and all bets are off.

Anyway, we were heading north, on a return mail trip. Messages are now the only way for people to keep in touch any more. No phones, no TV, certainly no damn internet anymore. It is back to handwritten letters. Not that there is much communication nowadays. People live off the land like they used to in ages past, most places have learned to be self sufficient, but lots of folks still have relations scattered all over the country and that is where we come in.

We are the post men. The last thing holding civilisation together.

We have all sorts of dangers to watch out for. Some Seelie might take a fancy to one of you, steal you away for a nights pleasure and when you wake up it is 500 years later, or another might decide you've offended it in some way and look to take payment in blood. Sometimes you'll get lucky and meet up with someone like Truthful Tom who can you out of most trouble (he has a bit in influence with the farie queen), but mostly you are out there on your own. Well, not quite on your own. We travel in groups of seven which seems to please some groups of faries for reason's we haven't quite figured out. And travelling between places isn't as simple as it sounds. Since they came back geography has become unreliable. Places that weren't there before are suddenly there. I keep hoping one day all the missing cities will come back, but so far none have. We still have Glasgow and Edinburgh north of the border. South, you have Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham... Maybe a few other places I haven't been yet? Nowhere near as many people living in them as we used to have. Few thousand at most. There isn't the infrastructure to support much more than that n one place anymore. Anyway, that's why you just can't mark up on a map the safe places to go because what is there one time, might be there or might be elsewhere. Not to mention the occasional left over Werewolf the faries didn't catch. So, yeah our job is a tough one.

Or something else might have moved in. Before I became a postman I had a nice house in a small town called Wick. A Boggart moved in and just made life a misery. Constant petty small tricks made it unbearable. Keys were always missing, milk was spoiled, things got broken. Eventally I gave up and moved out. Anytime I find myself in the neighbourhood,  check my old house out. I have no idea what he still finds to break in there, but I hear the noises of him throwing things around and smashing them.

So on with my story. We were doing the return leg of a Glasgow to Manchester run. Things had been going more or less well. We were deep in what is still called the borderlands, the old dividing line between Scotland and England. It was getting late, and the place we were looking to spend the night didn't seem to be where it ought to be. The wind was howling and getting stronger, heavy dark clouds promised a night of rain. Not the sort of weather you want to spend sleeping under the sky. Only thing we could see to head towards, was what looked like an old ruined keep on the top of a barren hill. I'd passed this way dozens of times and never seen it before. We knew it was risky to spend the night there, but we couldn't see any other choice. So we hiked up the hill. Close up, it was an old ruined keep. Looked like it had been there for centuries, and in some strange way it had, even though it hadn't been there two weeks previous. We checked out the grounds for any obvious signs of anything living there. Other than a few large boulders lying scattered around we saw nothing.

Yeah, we really should have taken that as more of a warning.

We settled down to sleep, agreeing to take it in turns to stand watch. I got the first shift, did my duty and then woke up my replacement. As I lay down, the wind and rain sounded even heavier than they did before.

Not a fit night for man nor beast to be outside.

I couldn't have been asleep for long when we are all awoken by an almighty crash. I sat bolt upright, thinking we were in the middle of an earthquake from the way the ground had shaken, but it was all over almost as quickly as it had begun. It took us a minute or two to figure out there were only six of us now, and we couldn't see the missing man. Not until we stopped a hand sticking out from underneath a boulder, fingers still twitching from whatever phantom signals were jumping around the crushed body beneath. There was no way the six of us could even try and shift the boulder. Then there was a flash of lightning and we saw it outlined against the bright flash. It looked like an ancient and wizened old man, with a floppy cap on his head. One hand held an old fashioned pikestaff which he was waving manically has he cappered around, celebrating no doubt the death of our companion. I'd seen pictures of them before, and I knew that if we saw him upclose he'd have stringy gray hair, matted with blood dripping from the hat he liked to dip in the blood of the slain and despite his appearence as an old man it was more than strong enough to kill all six of us if we were foolish enough to try and fight him.

So we upped and fled out into the night, wind, rain, thunder, lightning and all. We left everything else behind.
And that sir, is why I am formally submitting a form 67a, to request the king of the faries formally be approached to request the return of our mail sacks. Ain't no way any of us are going back there to fetch them. I mean you can try reading scripture and showing a crucifix and maybe the stories about that scaring a Redcap off are true, but me I reckon those old monk's lied when they wrote that stuff. Be a damned silly creature who was scared of words from a book. Besides, if you are close enough for him to hear you speak, then you are close enough for him to throw a boulder at you. Me, I'll put my faith in red tape (although I'd be appreciate all things considered if we could change the name to a different colour) and see if we can get the buggers to return it that way.


Title: Re: Written Anything Lately?
Post by: Dark Alex on November 12, 2018, 09:14:40 AM
Decided to try something a bit film noirish. Not sure how this one will go, or if I will finish it, but it is something to do on the train.

Fairy Tale Murders.

It had already been a tough week. I'd been dealing with a report of a murder. Some broad had dropped a house on a witch to kill her. Likes to take trophies too, stole the shoes off a dead woman. Pretty sick stuff. Seems a bit extreme in my book, going to all the effort of dropping a house on someone, when a second report came in. The same dame had murdered the witches sister by throwing a bucket of 'water' over her.

Great, just what I needed. A serial killer bumping off witches. And an inventive one at that. I was sitting wondering just how she'd gotten a witch to agree to a wet tee-shirt contest, and how no one had noticed one of the buckets had been filled with acid. The suits in city hall were pretty nervous about this one. They'd have to put a pretty good spin on it. There was an election coming up soon and no one wanted a headline grabbing serial killer running around pushing politicians off the front page. Those guys did not like compition.

The lieutenant called me into his office. Gave me the hard sell on solving this one fast. The mayor was breathing down his neck, which meant the LT was breathing down my neck so closely I could smell that he'd had steak, eggs and coffee for breakfast. By the time I left his office, his voice was hoarce from the yelling and my ears were ringing.

I left the office, turning the collar of my mac up against the drizzling rain. Funny, no matter what the weather was like everywhere else, it was always drizzling when you left the police station. I called a cab aand took a ride out to the first murder scene. I never liked getting out of the city. On it's mean streets everything was black and white, but once you got away from it, suddenly everythng became colourful.