Alec, the (war)time-tours guide

A Chuck Wendig prompt - create a character

Ah, is this gonna be one of those interviews? I’ll have none of that. Thanks.

Of course I know what you wanna ask! ‘Sex, age, job, full name and shoe size? Pimples on my ass?’ Well? 

I’m a time traveller. Obviously.  Did I just stutter? Could you stop wasting my time? You know what?

Shut up! I’ll talk. I tell you something people never ask. I travel through time. Yes. I sounds insanely badass and mysterious, but it’s horrible.

I can’t shake off the wooziness. I’m nauseous nearly all day. Can’t eat or drink too much, cause I throw up. I have to eat a lot of sweets, so my brain doesn’t crash after a jump.

My hands shake whenever I get stressed, and I’m stiff in the morning. Not the good kind of stiff. My cold joints hurt, my back aches and it stops when I’m moving. So I have to move. Constantly.

I have to run, jog so I can walk properly.

Nightmares are my routine. 

How’d you feel, if you’d forget your daughter’s first steps, or her birth? Yes, I’ve been there. Seen her, laughed with her, hugged her, nuzzled with her and sucked in her sweet scent… Tell me, would you trade those memories?  For money?  For some egomaniacs, who plays war-safari and kill, without risks? Cause they’ve got privilege, ‘n enough money to buy themselves the right to kill people.

I want to throw up, every time I see one of those sleek suits.

It’s a disease. The doctors call it temporal multi-sensorial memory runaway. A special kind of retrograde amnesia.

But you’ve heard of time traveller’s disease, haven’t you?

There you go. Now do something with that!

HAUNTED HUNTER

HAUNTED HUNTER
A Chuck Wendig prompt - 2036 words
genre: supernatural horror - found footage

***

With a flicker of blue light, the screen comes to life. It’s evening, the streetlights flare on. The lens zooms in on an old, abandoned looking house, with bashed in windows on ground level. There is a wooden porch with some missing slats.

Someone smokes there. A little red dot gleams lazily just above the handrail.

There they are…“ A male voice whispers to himself. “Showtime.” A bush winks into the field of view. A shadow moves in front of the ember. Suddenly the cameraman shrinks behind the bush.

Click. The frame blacks out. Continue reading “HAUNTED HUNTER”

Father Tyto

Father Tyto

A Chuck Wending – Friday Flash Fiction prompt – Who the fuck is my D & D character?

“POMPOUS TIEFLING CLERIC FROM A FALLEN KINGDOM WHO CONSTANTLY PLACES THEMSELVES IN DANGER JUST TO PROVE A POINT”

*

“Get off!” The cleric snarled at the miserable heap lying across his legs.

The dead weight of the man and some middle sized rocks on top of him was uncomfortable. This moron ruined his cape! This was not how he had planned it. The wand went to pieces too… He pushed the human off of his legs and spat. The  longest sharpest piece of the stab had to serve for protection. Maybe there was enough magic left in it.

The dragon above them was raging on. Her screams echoed in the tunnels of the abandoned mine. She was overdoing it, in his opinion. But dragons were little famous for their decency or well behaving. This one had definitely anger issues. Mommy was missing one tiny precious egg, but she had hundreds of them! Continue reading “Father Tyto”

Janus

I can’t stop myself from looking at him – snow white skin, hair, dark as chocolate, topaz eyes borrowed from a bird of prey, soft lips, bowed in a mischievous arch – vibrant memories, which won’t  let me sleep, won’t let me close my eyes. Even if I do, I’ll open them up, asap. Feeling his breath, his gaze peeled to whatever there is to be to be noticed in my face.

Even in the darkness of the room, drawn curtains, and the half moon shining… Even in the solid black mist his eyes seems to glow in that strange orange golden light. He seems to emit it, his faces, his mouthes, his shiny teeth… All screaming curiosity.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I´ve never seen someone fall asleep before.”

“What? Never? Why?”

“I never sleep. So I’m curious.”

“Suit yourself.” Indeed, I’m exhausted, and ´bout to fall asleep. “So you never sleep, hm? Do you – ever dream?” My lips move lazily. The bed sheets still hot and messed up. Feeling heavy on my skin.

“Yes. But mine are different from yours. I do not lose myself doing so.” His voice softens, moves closer somewhere near my left temple. “And when you’ll lose yourself, you’ll be empty – a living, breathing hollow shell. Just waiting.” His voice sounds now like a whisper, moves suddenly from my left to the right ear… Of course -forgot- two mouthes. Two tongues. Strangely, they sound the same.

Can’t open my eyes, sleep burns inside of them. It is a soft warm black, that keeps dripping, dissolving into my mind. “Mhm. What for?” Words drop out hazily, I just breathe them out.

“For me, to do as I please… Shhh, now. Go back to sleep…”

professional

professional

He looked at the photo closely. His thumb felt the glossy surface of the printed paper. Black and white. Actually this was the photo of a drawing.

The table was a mess. Coffe in different cups, different blends of age, vaporizing ever so slowly. The ashtray looked overcharged. Smoking can kill you- yes it can. The lack of it too…

Continue reading “professional”

turn here

turn here

“Hold onto someth-” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

The car skids round the corner with screeching tires. I already have my fingers digging deep into the backseat, but my head thuds against the window anyway.

He’s checking the rearview mirror. I’m not happy. And it’s written all over my face. I just keep my mouth shut, cause I’m grateful to the man who just saved my ass. No comments on his driving.

He floors the accelerator. I rub my head. “It’s going to be a lump” I state.

“Well, dude… That’s your smallest problem.” He grins and throws my wallet on the backseat.

“How did you get hold of it?” I wonder. I don’t remember that he could have swiped it… I look baffled to the mirror, but doesn’t look back, nor does he bother to answer. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“So… What do you have in your bag, that is so important?” He asks with a low rumble in his voice. What  have I gotten myself into again?

“Nothing!”

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll find it out by myself,” he laughs a throaty laugh. And it’s not benign. I grab my bag tight and lock my arms around it. “I´m just curious”, he tries.

“Curious, my ass!” I spit. Now he’s bursting into honest laughter, slowing the car down to normal speed.

“You hungry? I know a great place!”

jelly fish love

jelly fish love

 Secretly, I hoped for this. A chance to see the jellyfish. Well, not like this… I hoped for this, but differently…

No, not my dive headfirst into the Moon jellyfish tank. That was an accident.

I slipped, I swear. I was supposed to check the filters. Thank god, there aren’t any costumers watching. They’d be laughing their heads off. I’d be probably too if I wasn’t the loser taking a swim.

Lucky me, I did not fall into the Nomura’s jellyfish tank, or lion’s mane jellyfish tank. I’d be fucked. Painfully. Maybe lethally. The Moon jelly stings a bit though…

The current in the Kreisel tank is swift, I won’t be able to swim all night.

Now how do I get myself outta here?

snake magic

snake magic

It´s been some decades now… Since things started to be calamitous and sinister. At first, she did not understand what happened.

One early morning in June she woke to the  terrified screams of her husband. Why was he yelling like that? Was he in pain? That cursed morning she was still too sleepy to get her brain working. Horrified, he clawed at the lamp on the nightstand and hit her with it. He tried to blow her head with it…

Why did he tried to kill her?

Becoming furious, she hissed at him, she spun around to face him -then she saw it! In the mirror of their bedroom…

There was her husband, and instead of her, a huge black snake. She shrieked at her own reflection, but the sound she made peaked into a low dangerous hiss.

Woken up from the screams her oldest son ran into the room. Her five years old lovely son dashed in – moved directly between both of them. He was so fast, came up too close to her.

That blasted moment.

If she could cry, she would. She closed her eyes, that was the closest to human crying a snake could manage… Her nictitating membranes squeezed each a little droplet out.

And there it happened. It has been all reflex. She couldn’t stop herself.

She bit.

She killed her own son.

He died.

He died fast.

She knew, that there was no way anyone could save him. His  little body was too weak for her poison. She didn’t mean to… The only thing there was left for her to do, was to stay with him. She didn’t let anyone come close to him. Not even her husband.

A mother has to look in the eyes of her child. She has to… So she’d never forget, how death looks like.

She waited. Uncapable to do  any good for anyone she loved, she had to leave.

She managed  not to kill anyone else in her family. She managed to leave the mansion without meeting anyone else. She managed  not to kill cattle, nor chicken, nor ducks, nor goats. She had to get out and leave everything behind.

She had to be a snake now.

She slipped out of  her hole, and  searched for a sunny spot. The sun has always been friendly to her.

And from humans, she kept away, as long as possible. But they kept coming at her.

 

sockfairies

sockfairies

“Traditions define us! Loyalty means something to me. Even if it is just a word to you!” I say. Let’s be honest- I’m old fashioned. Restrain. Nothing but complains tonight. Anyway.

“This isn’t what I asked for, Ira!”

I roll my eyes. Still. I can’t be angry with her. This time I cannot give her what she wants. It is impossible. Even if this is our hundredth discussion. “I’d give my head on a plate. But don’t claim that. Please! Please…” She can be as annoying as a hungry puppy, while I’m eating a steak. “I told you. I can’t get you that! I do not have the autorisation for that! And I told you.” That can’t be helped. “I’m doing more than just risk my job for you. You know, what will happen, if they catch me. Getting fired is the most pleasant thing, that they could do to me.”

“I DON’T CARE!”

What?! She really said it… “I’m sorry, Ira. I didn’t mean to…”

“You did.” It hurts. Like swallowing glass shards. I forgot. Natasha is… Natasha. I knew she chose me for a reason, and stays with me as long as I serve her purposes. And I know she’s not in love, or anything. I don’t need her to… I’ve got enough for both of us. It will be good – for a while.

Maybe I… I. No. I don’t even know her real name. She lets me call her Natasha. When we first met, in ‘Roadrunner’, a night club, she was sitting at the bar, staring into her Martini. Not looking  for company, not interested at all. I was drunk and pretentious. I said, she looked like a ‘Natasha’. So she stuck with it. I don’t know, why she didn’t punch me in the face, for being such an ass.

She made it clear. The first night we spent together. She’s a stray. She doesn’t belong to anyone. Only to herself. Sweet Natasha. Her big  brown eyes burning with madness, or anger, or sex. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference. Her wonderfully soft lips, speaking those words with such cold cruelty. The clicking of her teeth, her jaw muscles working under the skin of her cheeks. She fought for those words. She fought herself. I fell for her, that night.

As the weeks passed, she showed her gratitude… In different ways. And it meant more to me, than I ever could imagine. More, than I wanted them to mean to me. So here I am. Living with a stray woman, who needs things… Things I can supply her with.

“Come on, Ira. I’m sorry. I really am! You know that. Come on. Look at me, darling. Please forgive me! You know I’ve got temper. I don’t want you to get hurt. My mouth was faster than my brain. Forgive me.” She smiles sad.

I smile back at her. “I’ll just say, that it was the sockfairies…”

“I’ll be there. To pick you up,” she promises.

But I know she’ll be gone. Maybe by morning. Maybe tomorrow, or next week…