Alec, the (war)time-tours guide

A Chuck Wendig prompt - create a character(283 words *IknowIknow*)

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.

Don’t stutter. Ugh … Please, 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. And 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. And 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.

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!

bad company

“Rise and shine.” Grizzly says, gently patting the jacket I use as blanket. He’s been driving the whole night. It’s already dawning, and we’re still on the road. Nearly over the mountains by now, the rain has stopped.

If you were wondering, Grizzly’s not a real bear. He’s ’bout 6 feet 6, hairy, one-eyed beast, with hands like paws. I call him Grizzly, for being such a log of a man. His real name is Urs. He’s from Switzerland, the land of  yummy chocolate and huge mountains.

The first time we met, he hit on me. That meathead tried to convince me, that everyone going over the swiss border, gets a bar of gold, a cow and a cheese wheel. He was so persistent, I nearly bought it. Of course I googled it. And he caught me. Can  you imagine how hard he laughed? Beer squirted out of his nose, he nearly choked. The laughing-coughing-fits shook him, you could have thought that barstool he was sitting on, was a live rodeo horse. Nice, huh?

“Hmmmyamorninhngrylikawulff” I yawn. Hungry. “One day you’ll transform fully. Into a big fuzzy Teddy bear, and I’ll cuddle you to death.” I sit up and rub my face into his shoulder.

“Mmm, death by cuddle? Is that a promise, sweetheart? I’ll pin you on that one.” What an impressive bedroom smile, from one ear to the other. I like it.

“Will you keep that dust on your jaw?”  The clouds run before us on the road.

“Doesn’t make me look distinguished? It makes me look more serious, don’t you think?” – “You look like an old grumpy pirate…”

“Don’t you like it? One word, an it’s gone.” His index plays with one of my  crimson locks. “Red? Let’s not scare them, this time. Be a nice girl. If we look like freaks, we don’t need to act like freaks.” He throws me a mischievous grin. “Smug place, smug people.”

“Darlin`… Anything for you.” I smile my brightest smile. “Imma be a good girl. You’ll see.” Outside, the mountains part and the wood pulls up its skirt. Little houses loom in the misty morning light, far away, at the end of the now opening valley. The windshield’s dirty.

“Cross your heart!” Grizzly’s laugh booms, I feel it vibrate in my guts.

*

We hold hands across the table, my tattoos hiding in his huge paw. He sips his coffee, and I dig in some pancakes with sirup. Even with the black eyepatch on grizzly’s face he looks so cute. Before telling me, where that eye went, he has been telling me, for month, every time a different story. Maybe Urs is a compulsive liar… That should bother me somehow, shouldn’t it?

The pancakes were good, despite of everyone staring. “Grizzly?”

“Mm?” – “Everyone’s staring…”

“Let them. We would be too, if we saw us in a mirror, wouldn’t we?” I concentrated on the syrup running from my fork. I nod and swallow. We would. Who has ever seen such a couple? Him, a one eyed man-bear, and me – almost a midget, with bright red mane and tattoos all over. We are not exactly… Common?  Mundane? Ordinary?  I don’t know… We are we. And there’s nothing else. For now. Nothing else.

Grounds for Divorce

A  Chuck Wending – RANDOM SONG TITLE STORY CHALLENGE 

This popped up on my dash: Grounds for Divorce, by Elbow

*

“Dogs bark. Money talks.” The bartender leans over, and winks at me… I nod at the shelves with the rum. He pours me a drink. And a second one too, for himself. Cocky jackass. I blow the smoke of my cigarito straight into that slick stony mug of his. Not flinching, huh? Not one muscle moving. He’s not the only die-hard in here… The moment holds its breath ‘n turns blue.

“Sure. Whatever.” I nod. Stoneface is grinning. I’m palming twenty bucks. We shake hands. “Let’s talk. Seen her ’round?” I show him my phone. The display shows a good-looker. A dark-haired woman, with mud brown eyes. Lips you’d want to brush your fingertips over. Stoneface isn’t giving away a thing. From his expression, I can’t tell if he recognizes her or not.

“Her?!” Suddenly he cracks into amused laughter. “Everybody knows her… You’re gonna fuck up. Badly. A piece of advice: walk away, rubberneck.” Giving me a grave look, he points at my drink. “Drink up and fuck off.” Boring. I don’t feel like fucking off. Should I tell him?

“…If not, will you make me?” He shrugs and starts wiping his counter.

“You’ll nap in the Forever-box… Hehehe, just pulling your leg!” He smiles a friendly, but too toothy smile. No shitting! That guy’s dangerous, all composed and well-balanced moves. Not an inch too far… Hmmm, I’ll keep an eye on that one. Maybe not so boring, after all. From hight and built ex military, or something else… This is just getting better by the minute.

“What’s her name?” I try to sound annoyed.

“…Anna.” Wha? He already gives up? Not so hardboiled, huh? He turns on his heel and walks off to the other side of the bar. Funny… Things always turn out how they should be. A question and an answer. Twenty bucks, a name. An expensive and common name. Maybe not even the real one. Not much to go on. At least for now…

Stoneface is serving some drinks to some hobos in the dimness of the  belly of the barbeast. Cheap seats. That’s where you decide if you want out, or deeper in. It’s mostly deeper in. Or deeper down, if you like that better. Still tension in his back. Not letting his guard down…

There must be something else to this case. Something I’ve overlooked; not only a regular blackmail/ find-and-retrieve-photos job. I take a careful sip from my drink. The rum warms tongue and throat. Hmmm, it burns the hole where one of my upper left molars used to be. I wait for the numb. I’m better when I drink. The thermal dissolves into my legs, shoulders and jaw. I’m better. I keep telling myself. Someday I’ll believe it. Sure about that. I inspect my knuckles. Bruised. Two days old, but that’s another story.

Let’s see. What do I know about this lush lady? My client told me the woman is an upscale hooker.  Jasmine.  She’s blackmailing him with delicate photos. I just need to find the photos.  Nothing I found out for myself… Sloppy. This is bad, when did I get so careless?

Someone else might remember her too… I’ll start asking around when the business starts up-

“What’s up, babe?” A caramel dipped voice hums behind me. Still the dame magnet. A bit rusty though… I drink what’s left of my rum, and turn around with my most winning smile. Behold the-

HER! …Jasmine. Breathtaking! She just stands there. Devilish smile on those wonderful lips… I google at her, slack-jawed.

“We have a com-” Bottle crashes. Burst on the back of my head, smashing me to smithers.  Jasmine, or Anna, splits into thick darkness. A blackness without dreams… Without me.

*

“… Babe?”

Mhhmm…? – Stop, no more. Thanks, but no more drinks… So done with rum for today. Head’s spinning – what a big ass hangover. The rum rums in my rum rum. Rum… Ow, my head. Did I drink that much? Where’s the coffee? My stomach hates me.

Where the hell am I? Did I fall asleep in the junk yard again? Not good… I think I’m gonna throw up. “See? You hit him too hard…” The room’s moving. I sit tight. No. I’m tied – into sitting tight.  Oh, hell. I fucked up.

“Whothehellareyepeopl?” I don’t sound like me. Damn…

“You asked for ME, scarecrow! Who’re you? Spill it. What do you want?” Who? The voice sounds familiar though. Caramel voice…Pitching. Anna. Or Jasmine. Or something -woman…

“Whathappentobabe?” This is not how it’s supposed to be. It should be the other way around. Who hunts whom? Oh! Now I get it. Stoneface hit me, I think. I owe him a free flying lesson. Sonofa… Meathead. Maybe I throw a broken nose and busted kneecaps at him too. Just for good measure. The two human shapes come closer. Huh… Why is it so hard to focus? The dim lights aren’t helping. At all. Am I in the basement, or the backroom? I go with the backroom. Arms and upper torso tied to a metal chair. No rug. Maybe if I rattle… Is that loud enough? I should make a fuss. Fuss is good.

The woman squats beside my chair. “Shh..” Chocolate brown. Not mud brown… Lips shaped like a reflex arc. She’s got a wet bloodstained cloth in her hand. Is that my blood? “Who sent you? Did he tell you, I’m his lover? Did he tell you I wanted money?“ What? Odd… I’m right about the wrong. What’s going on? I nod. Stoneface comes closer.

“You’ve fucked up.” Yeah, I did. “Busted our cover, dumbass!” He spits those words to my feet. He just said… Cover?! What the hell is happening here?! “Go get your emergency bag, sweetheart. Don’t be upset. We leave in fifteen minutes. He might be around by now, so be careful. Surely followed detective numskull here. You don’t have to watch. Let me finish here.”

FINISH?! Oh, fuck! NO! Hell, no! Come on – move! I’m no loose end! The ties won’t budge. No matter how I tug. They dig deeper into my arms. Shit! I won’t go like this! I can’t!

“I’m sorry. I truly am.” Well, fuck you! “You left me no choice. I told you to leave it… Hold still, try to relax. Keep your breathing steady. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. It’ll hurt though, and you’ll wish I did. Or that you killed me. Feel free, I won’t mind.” Stoneface walks behind me and I try to crane my head as far as possible, to keep him in my field of view. The woman shuts the door behind her. “Let’s get over with this… You’re a lefty, right?”

He grabs an aluminum bat from somewhere. Strikes down on my right lower arm. Noooo! Sick crack explodes in and up the nerves in my arm, mauls all layers of my mind; even the numb boozed up one. Shit! Stings! Fuck! Exhale. I squeeze my eyes shut, try to block out the the bat. The ache – fuuuuuck! BASTARD!„Ghhaaayafuckingfucktardbastardmoronjerkidiotwhatswrongwithyughaayaapayforthiiiissss” Wheeze burns between my ribs, using up the remaining air in my lungs.

„Look, if he finds out… She’s dead. Without seeing her son, ever again. Most likely you’ll be dead too. I’ll cut you loose after this. Promise. Tough through, detective! Try to stay alive.“ The butt of the fucking bat punches holes into my guts ‘n ribcage, again and again. Releasing me from the remnants of my dinner ‘n my sorry consciousness.

*

There’s a hand. „Did you find her? Tell me!“ I can’t open my eyes. Jaws don’t move.

„Sir! Sir! Step aside! This man needs immediate medical attention!“ More hands, moving me, cutting me free. „Sir? What’s your name?“ I whimper. Every soggy breath rips me apart. I smell rubber. Stay alive. Rubber and blood. Someone tries to check my eyes… Tsssk. Stay alive. The fingers on my jawbone push. „Do you hear me? Squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no.“ I squeeze the gloved hand with my left. The rest fades into a wobbly shaky dark blur.

The stinging and the bright lights drag me back. Tear me wide awake. In the ER, they ask me a lot of stuff. And there is my client too… Shit. Telling that he’s my brother. I can’t stop shivering… They gonna bring me somewhere else. They say I need surgery…

*

“There you go. All comfy now!” The nurse beams at me, still the dame magnet. I’d smile if it didn’t fucking hurt that bad. She goes after checking my blood pressure.

I thought this through.

I got myself into something really big and messy. I took a header into this rubbish, and now I’m tangled up in it. Likely I’m going to pay for my sloppiness. But I’m not going down alone, not without putting up a fight…

I’m doing exactly what Stoneface told me to do. I’m staying alive.

My client-brother, and the doctors think I have amnesia. First it was a lucky pull, but then it came to me. I’m a genius! The best idea since rum.

So now… I’m John Doe. About thirty, caucasian, six feet twenty, A positive, and plastered and bandaged. Parts of me are really banged up badly. Jaw’s broken twice. I eat with a straw in my nose. Which is also broken. The nose, not the straw. Right arm gone too, ribs fractured… And my face is so swollen, the bad kind of bluish black. Even my mother wouldn’t recognize me.

Almost every day, my fake-brother’s around. He’s persistent. Every now and then, he tries to get something out of me. And I’m playing dumb. The only fun I get nowadays. Except for the nurses, of course.

I let him have some bread crumbs, like I remember being in a bar. And the fragrance of jasmine flowers. I have to keep him interested, for my own good. He even offers me to stay at his place, till I recover. Isn’t that nice of him?

Clever little shit!

This is the best way to snuff out what’s behind this whole mess.

Emily

Jack is dead.

This is the fact I should begin with.

He’s been dead for three month now, and I’m responsible for it. Not that it matters, but I have to tell.

He is not coming back. Even if … He simply was a bad friend, a bad fiancé. An insufferable jerk…

Emily  won’t forgive me. If she knew what I did…

Suddenly she calls. Out of the blue, the phone rings twice, and  I hear her voice asking my name. “Sam?” She sounds so alien to me. As if she just says it for the first time… Actually she might have… I’m dumbstruck. And happy. I nearly cry. My heart beats to her voice. I… I know something’s wrong, but she calls me… She wants to meet ME… Something’s wrong. Awfully wrong. Can’t put my finger on it. But I will meet her right away.

There. Again – the nagging little voice in the back of my head. I should worry, but can’t. Something’s happening, out of control… Sooner or later, I’ll end up caught in it anyway…

Just keep my mouth shut. Emily needs me, that is all that counts. This is all that ever counted to me.

*

“There is a park nearby. At the back of the bakery. The one with the chocolate croissants you love.” I tell her.

I use to grab some for her and Jack.

He always swallows them nearly in one bite. But Emily… Oh, she eats them so delicately, with so much care… My eyes stick to her hands and jaws, moving in small elliptical figures. The divine geometry of her gestures, their almost arithmetic order – the hue of her gentleness. The reason I fall for her. Right away.

I use to hide a little flower in her napkin. She never unfolds them. I don’t know if she’ll ever find one… You see, I’m stubborn. I never give up…

Well, that’s not true.  I DO give up.

Not only stubborn, but also a liar.

I do give up. There’s no point in bringing breakfast for Emily and Jack anymore. Since he’s dead, and she refuses to eat breakfast brought by me…

“Please meet me… I think, I’m going crazy on my own. You know… I’m haunted, Sam.”

My throat dries up. A grinding goes through my head. It must’ve been my teeth. That sound. It was a bit too loud. Even on the phone. It makes her pause…

“I just have to be with a normal living person,” she begs. How could I refuse her?

*

The nagging starts again. Something’s wrong… Wrong! WRONG!

W. R. O. N. G.!

I’ll take a header into – whatever is coming.

The sun is setting. Wrong.

The trees wink at me. Wrong.

Emily stands there. Wrong.

Emily just stands there.

Emily.

She is dressed like one of those joggers, who keep running away from stress. You see them in the twilight, with their distinguished distance to regret. Like a new species. The aura of superiority…

I need to absorb this. Every second! The wrong, that is coming, is going to crash into us. Soon enough.

Get there first!

She has her back turned to me. I used to watch it…

She has lovely freckle on her left shoulder. My eyes find the spot through her sweater. It has the shape of a tulip.

The first time I see it, I walk in on her, while she’s changing. Accidently. She’s scared, then angry. Jack laughs his head of… Bastard!

“There you are!” she flashes a smile. I can tell she’s been crying though. “How are you?”

“Fine. I’m… fine.” The words barely make it out of my mouth. All dried lips and lazy tongue. It sounds husky. It feels ripping. I didn’t speak – not even to her – for so long, it hurts…

On the way, I even pick a daisy. Old habit.

The smile dissolves. Her face returns. Calm, nearly blank. Only her eyes move nervously. Why is she nervous? Whom is she expecting?

Did anyone find out? Is… Is someone following?! Or threatening?!

Did she find out? Would she tell anyone?!

She led them HERE?! TO ME?!  There you go – catastrophe!

No! Not now! With Emily so close? I’d just had to stretch my hand and… touch. Who could take her away now?!

“Let’s walk.” She turns abruptly and walks off the sidewalk onto the grass. There’s a daisy. She steps on it. She doesn’t notice. I walk right behind her… Placing one foot after the other in the marks she’s leaving.

*

“Sam?” she asks. “Why did you? Why…? Never mind!”

All of a sudden, she sounds shaky and afraid. I don’t care where she’s leading. As long as she keeps going, I’ll follow. No people, no dogs, no joggers around.

Nature. Evening. Trees around us, bushes, grass. No one here. Just us. The moon appears on a scrap of night.

“This far enough!” I hear her breathe in sharply. A demand?

“K… I didn’t mean to…”- obtrude…

I step back. I won’t push… Why is she so tense? It’s just us here – and I mean no harm.

A dog barks nearby.

A heavy weight crashes into me. Into my chest, squeezing the breath of my thorax -What was that? Something hit me. A branch? No, not something, it’s Emily. Emily pounces on me, hugs me violently. She’s so wild, that we both fall.

We lie on the ground. The night shakes itself. The moon shakes too. It devised itself, then fuses again, to one body. It stops… Finally.

I feel Emily’s breathing. Her skin on my arms, her back under my fingers, her arms ’round my waist. She’s warm and light. Her hair pours down my neck. The scent cloud makes me dizzy.  Is this a dream? It looks like she is resting her head on my chest, to hear my heart. It’s racing. She makes it to.

Is she crying? But why?

*

“Did I hurt you? Is it – too… much? Can you bear it? Are you suffering, Sam?” She means me… There is something else too, isn’t it?

She pushes her chin between two of my hurting ribs. It stings. Her eyes search for mine. She uses her fingers for the search too. It stings!

Why am I so weak?

Her face grows paler and bigger. It doesn’t have that blank expression anymore. Isn’t tense. She’s relieved… Strange, I can see her eyes clearly now. They glow blue. She looks so attentive. Is it – curiosity? What happened?

“Are you…” Her lips stop mine.

Her hair moves, and I see it! What’s that? Something sticks out. I don’t remember… The shaft of a knife? IN me? Blood… warm, red. It stings! It burns! Emily sticks her index into it, licks…

“Sour, not sweet at all. Tastes like a warm sunny day, badly screwed over.” Is this a dream? It can’t, ’cause it hurts. That wet wheezing sound, is that coming from me?!

“You’ve to sit up, or you’ll have a hard time breathing, Sam.” She states stark.

There’s a firm grip on my shirt, pulling. Ah! Ow!

“You’re heavy, sweetheart! Give me a hand, will you?” I reach out, to pull myself up, but there is only Emily to grab. She helps me to lean against a tree trunk. Her image shakes.

“So… you found out.”

She nods. And cries. Tears leaving her eyes quietly. No sobbing. How strong she is…

“Do you hate me?”

She shakes her head wildly. No. She doesn’t. What a relief! There will be no one… bothering us here. And she did not betray me. She just found out.

“I wanted you. Wanted – to know. That… I did. What I did…” So lazy this tongue. Weak tongue. Thirsty. Shaky? It’s cold.

“I know. Shhhhh! Don’t waste your strength…I’ll stay. Till it’s over. Listen… ” Her fingers caress my hair, cheeks.

Emily, don’t stop. Please… I think, I don’t feel my legs. Won’t need them. Ain’t going nowhere. I stay. And this is maybe the best solution… It could have been such a wonderful night. It could have…

“Open your eyes, Sam. Please! I have to tell you. I learned about three weeks ago, who Jack really was, and what you did for me. Did you ever think I could find out? Since Jack died… I sleep and wake up with death… I don’t even know, if I’m alive or not. Maybe this is all just a bad dream. It sure feels like one… We have a nightmare. Both of us. The same. I dreamed, that I died.  Someone else took my place and lived me… Do you understand? Someone else crawled into my skin, and pretends to be me… Am I crazy?”

I haven’t got much strength left. So I shake my head. Come on mouth! Smile! Say something!

“I’ll miss you Sam. I wish, I met you first… We could have been happy, you know. Just the two of us… I’m glad it was you. Sam… Sam?”

sugar dispenser

If you must know, the head belongs to James R. Blackmoore. The third.

There’s nothing special about being the third. No achievement at all, it’s like a participation trophy, darling. Congrats you’re being born! Haha…

He looks now much older than he truly is. Don’t let it fool you! You can easily mistake it for ancient! That distinguished expression he has, that little smile… It makes my knees go jello!

Doesn’t he look noble? I really like how he turned out. I put a lot of effort in him, you know. Preserving it so well! I usually don’t like to praise, but I surpassed myself. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m the modest type. No compliments! That’s my policy. No undeserved words. I’m just not the type for them, but this time… I did awfully good.

It comes near perfection, the whole mummification process, and it is not easy to find all ingredients in Modern Age. Exquisite oils have their price, and Mr. Blackmoore is by far the cheapest ingredient of all.

And my, did he put up a fight! So ungrateful to what I’m offering him… Can you answer me a question? You are a man, so you should know.

If your fairy godmother came your way, and she gave you the chance to get famous, you’d take it, wouldn’t you?

How can someone – a man – not be flattered by going down in history? Even a good-for-nothing of his puny caliber has to be grateful, that somebody remembers him by name. If not by his trivial deeds…

Pfff, ghost hunter! Don’t make me laugh! No such things as ghosts and demons existing on the face of earth. No monsters – except for humans. You agree? So convenient, being on the same side, aren’t we?

He is drop dead beautiful, don’t you think? I might have a little crush on Mr. Blackmoore!  A little treasured obsession with his face. It’s a nice touch. So smooth with ageless loveliness, dried up like a raisin.

Raisins…

Oh, I hate raisins! I gag, when I find one in my brioche. That’s where you come in, darling. Nothing worse then starting a day, with a tainted brioche and cold coffee instead of warm tea! You know, you truly ruined a gorgeous day with your impertinent assurance!

Which brings us back to my lovely tea party. You and me; we have a bone to pick!

Stop whining! I’ll beat your face to pulp, if you don’t pull yourself together. I won’t repeat! I can make it a lot worse, you know. You will be begging me to release you from the pain. Stop crying! Theres nothing you could meow that could stop me.

…Don’t worry, darling. You’ll do just fine! I still need a special sugar dispenser. You are capable of that, I know it. I have faith in your abilities!

*

A mummified head lies on its accustomed place on the coffee table. Over it a handmade tablecloth draped casually. Underneath the snow-white laced fabric the contours of sugar cubes poke through. The five o’clock tea is nearly ready. The liquid in the small flower patterned porcelain pot scents the air in the room.

the cat

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***

The day is slowly trickling off. The sun rests on the rooftop, its orange bleeds out, reaching over the sky. Beyond the edges of the buildings on the other street side. Trees nearby rustle, as the wind picks up.

A black cat sits on top of an old brick wall surrounding a garden. It can be easily confused with a statue in the dusk. If it isn’t for those flashing yellow eyes. Horse chestnut tree branches stretch over the mural’s top, slowly waving in the evening wind. They shade the most of the wall, even with the streetlight flickering on nearby.

The cat stares into the street, tail twitching. “You are not welcome!” A silhouette detaches from the darkness of the corner of the building across the street. It moves closer. Consisting of solid blackness, it swirls to the wall, eyes lit like glow wire.  The shadow gutters and growls inarticulately. Its voice resembles the scattering of dead leaf over a dry road, or gravel under shoes.

The figure drifts through the wall onto the other side into the garden. The cat jumps down onto the grass. The shadow floats towards the house at the back of of the garden. The trees bows and sweep as if under great weight, groaning and creaking.

The cat hisses. „No!“ It runs up to the house, putting itself between the thing and the entrance door, its claws out, tail twitching.

„Don’t interfere.“ The breeze drops the words, slowly rolling them  down the tree branches. The dim glow in the eyes of the thing now blaze with anger. The wind  grows to a storm, swift gusts tearing at the trees and the roof of the  house. Clouds approach, stripping the stars from the sky, tearing the full moon apart. Cat’s fur stands on end, arching its back to a crescent shaped blur. Even the street lamps lose their power.

The shadow grows over the crown of the trees, clawing at the roof, ripping it apart. Broken old tiles rain down. The cat darts for the nearest tree, heading to the top. Like broken ribs from a carcass, the roof joists stab into the darkness. Setting an outrageous storm free, it’s beating wings hovering upon the garden.

 *

(…to be continued)

here birdie, birdie

This could have been such a nice, sunny day to doze off, having nothing to do, but to fit my butt between the bulges on the couch and stare at the telly. Occasionally yelling at it, or giggling, or snoring- maybe…

I merit to have those days in sweet neglect of the world outside my living room! I really do.

I’m a nice guy, you see. Easy to cope with, understanding, a good friend, polite, a hard worker… But lately, all I get is a shit load of trouble I didn’t sign in for…

If you stick around you’ll see soon enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

It’s a bright sunny day. Saturday. Heavenly sleeping in, till twelve – as planned. Breakfast: cold pizza- I think from yesterday- coffee and a smoke. Phone ringing. Again… Probably mum. Not going to pick it up anyway. Not in the mood for any told-you-so-speeches, goosed up with emotional blackmail, and remorse inducing motherly love. Not to talk about constant inquisition ´bout having a girlfriend yet, questions if I have been eating real food, and so on.

But wait, there is more! That Saturday attempts to be a real killer.

Suddenly in the basement there is the sound of breaking glass. A Burglar?

I grab my old hockey stick and – The front door slams open. What the hell?! Stomping sounds from the porch. Even if I duck, I’m not fast enough. A big, heavy guy tackles me. We hit the floor just near the couch. Ah, I feel shattered.

Yelling. “Lay low!” Right into my ear. Shit!

I turn my head to see what just happened. No way! There’s a THING! Something. A half transparent squid like object floats at the ceiling, where I’ve been standing two seconds ago. Big guy is shoves himself between that thing and me, swinging a bat.

“Here, birdie birdie! Come and get somethin’ really good” he’s singing sweetly. This is too surreal.

Can’t help it. I crack in insane laughter. Big guy turns his head slightly. „DON’T!” His voice hisses. “Give me that!” He points at the hockey stick. I push it over to his feet, where he  can slowly pick it up, eyes locked on that thing.

“On your feet,“ he commands. “Now whatever you do, don’t let it touch you. You get infected or something. You’d walk around like a freaking zombie, with a weird happy face…”

„What’s wrong with that?“ Now I’m curious. A happy face? By the word zombie I’ve imagined a brainless, stiffly moving corps, with dropped jaws an  a hunger for fresh brain.

„It’s unnatural. It creeps me out”

Well, so much explanation – still… “Would I want to eat brains, or crunch someone’s face off?”

“How the hell should I know?! I wasn’t touched by that squid-bird-thing!” Big guy is swirling the bat above his head, knocking the tentacles away. The creature makes a screeching noise. “It doesn’t like you,“I state.

“You don´t say!“ He has a big stupid grin on his face. “Don´t let it touch the ground! Or the bear-leech-somethings, or snail creatures will come up the basement- or the floor, or the garden. Those things really eat you alive!”