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Gage chapter 11 ‘Heel on the shovel

Good morrow fine folks,

You know I actually got up and started writing this morning haha. Forgetting it’s a blogging day. See I cycle between the two to try and keep them both in regularity, so I do tues/wed/thur blogging and then the other four days writing. Because before I would just write everyday and I would sort of get burnt out and depressed because I felt insular, I felt like it was all for nothing because no one was reading it. But then blogging and spamming and promoting made me feel hollow because I wasn’t creating.

So I thought this system would balance the two, nice regular creation with sometime to check my head space and see if anyone was picking up what I was putting down to mixed reviews haha.

But it was a happy accident because the last few days I’ve felt like I’m getting back in the swing of things, the first two days weren’t so good, second two were stellar. I think a lot due to the heat abating haha. Also part of me wasn’t feeling that part of the story, not that it was bad it was just a lull from the pulse pounding action haha. Now I’m safely back in that and feeling good. I was feeling like it was getting away from me a bit now I feel like I have a handle on it again. It’s coming into shape a little better, I don’t feel like it’s perfect or I’m putting enough world building in.
One thing I actually like about the witcher series is it has a lot of nice ‘fluff’ like stuff that’s irrelevant to the story but adds just a little something. But obviously in my estimation the whole series so far is nothing but fluff.

And not it’s time for another rant about the witcher, I just got done listening to the audiobook for time of contempt and I don’t if I just wasn’t interested enough to hold my attention. Because I listen to audiobooks all the time and do other stuff and I can still be fully absorbed and never miss anything but I feel like it was just a convoluted mess. As apposed to the other books where nothing happens that’s all this book is, a bunch of stuff happening. It’s not really a story.

The story can be summed up as an evil mage sides with the baddies and then they take over and everyone fights. That’s the plot, just add in a metric tonne of pointless dialogue and some mediocre fights in this one actually. And the book just sort of ends after a cringey lesbian sex scene between a fourteen year old girl and an elf.

I know what this author looks like, he’s a fat old polish guy and just imagining him writing this scene makes my skin crawl haha. It was bad, this elf girl like saves her from being raped by a boy only to rape her ‘nicely’???
It was disturbing to say the least, is it as disturbing as child gang bangs in the sewer a la Stephen King? Not really but I’m not in a hurry to read it again.

Short and sweet that rant, I kind of feel obligated to listen to the other books just so I can moan about them now so I might have to subject myself to that. I mean it’s good just for the writing style, I really think as a writer you should read everyday in some way. I usually listen to those books in breaks and then read before bed and when I get up. Almost finished the Parker novels, I’m not getting the stories crossed with the witcher because both their stories are very simple.

A little behind today so I’m gonna do some proofreading and hopefully get another damn chapter of Cur out because I’m running out of shit to post haha.

See you…

–

I figured Gage wouldn’t travel too far if he was with that old man and all, I mean where could he go? There wasn’t anything for miles, it was just open untamed country. He couldn’t go back to McCrory. If he didn’t just die of thirst or hunger and get covered over by the sand or get carried away by carrion. He would have stopped at this brothel and someone would remember him, how could they forget such a face?

We left the old man barely alive but he was certainly breathing when went on our way. There was no use in killing him I gathered, if he didn’t indeed die of his injuries he was of no great threat to our operation. I wondered as we left him in that state if it would have been more humane to just end his suffering.

The thought troubled me all the way to the brothel. The sun was just coming down by the time we got there but there wasn’t a single lamp lit in the building which seemed unusual.

The edifice was cold and dark but we could hear an odd rummaging sound. And see a little light bobbing in the darkness like an angler fish’s light in the deep darkness. We approached with caution and I called out like a fool before thinking.

“Hello, is anyone there?”

Ryan and the others shushed me angrily as they got off their vehicles and got low and still in the twilight and I saw the spark of a knife leaving it’s sheathe.

There was a long pause, a moment of unbearable silence. The rummaging noise stopped and the lamplight went out and I swallowed standing in the open. Just like in front of the barn awaiting another flash and a roll of thunder but instead I heard a small stuttering voice.

“HHh-hello? Who’s there?”

“Erm, I’m just looking for some service – A place to sleep and some food perhaps”

There was another deathly silence where nothing moved.

“O-ok” The man’s voice said as the lamp came back on. A few moments later a portly middle aged man wearing a smock came out to greet us in the dusk. “Hh-how you are ya?” The man asked.

“Erm we’re just looking for a place to bed down.”

“Ww-we? There’s more of you?”

Ryan and the others rose out of the falling darkness and stood in front of the porch at my back.

“I see” The man said as he moved the lamp around trying to get a good look at the strangers. “Well I hope you like beans, s’all I could find.” He said.

We sat around a table in the dimly lit brothel over meagre plates of luke warm beans not talking a great deal. I looked over in disgust watching Stein sop up bean juice with stale bread, not so much at the sight of it, but the sound. The slurping sopping suckling noise as he bit into the wet bread.

The man who greeted us came over with his lantern and said “How are you folks finding it?”

A few grunts were sent back in answer.

“Fine I said, I was wondering if you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

“Questions?”

“Yes, I was wondering how you came upon this place, how long have you owned it?”

“Oh I don’t own it” The man said shaking the loose skin on his neck. “I stumbled on it just like you did, the place was empty when I got here so I thought there was no harm in camping out here til I move on.”

“I see” I paused feeling a bit of unease creep in but I went on. “Do you know what happened to the people who ran it?”

“I have no idea mister. I used to run the bank over in town until the other day now I’m a wanderer now, trying to find a way out of the valley and this god forsaken nightmare.”

“You said something about a bank?

“You haven’t heard about it? The whole town is going up in smoke!” He sputtered.

“You’re the first person we’ve talked to”

“You mean” He stopped and put his hand on his head and looked shocked and then swallowed. “I was the only one that got out.” He said in a horrifying realisation.

“What in god’s name are you talking about man?”

He swallowed and he said almost like he was reading from an old folk tale. “A great evil has come to Tupelo, the devil himself has come to town with a red right hand and driven the people from their homes. Swept up in a murderous rage. They chased down all the sane people and killed them and maybe more got away but I ran.” He swallowed, his throat sounded dry and sore. “But I looked back and I saw him, the man with the scarred face, he looked at me and I felt the evil in his heart and I knew the end was upon us.”

“The end?”

–

Read the rest of the chapter here.

Heel on the shovel

0

GS2 Chapter 20 ‘Execute them’

Hello hello hello,

After what seems like a long absence I have returned from my journey feeling sort of refreshed and a little depressed. It’s really draining knowing that every minute that goes by something is taking your further and further away from the people you love the most and you have no choice but to let it take you.

It’s like being in prison but you’re let out once a year for a week if you’re lucky but here I am now in my own private prison writing weird shit and playing too many video games for someone about to be thirty.

Also I might have aspergers which makes a lot of sense and in a lot of ways is a relief because I always knew there was something not quite right about me. I always felt like I was missing an essential piece of the human puzzle. I thought it just related to never knowing my father, for the longest time I was sure I was some type of just straight up psychopath/sociopath who was just too lazy to be a serial killer haha. But this makes a lot more sense.

So I might be going to the doctor but I don’t really want to as I’ve also been self diagnosed with procrastinitus, a severe case and it’s not like my brain is going anywhere.

So what’s new with me? I watched a really interesting bollywood movie on the plane about toilets and then another on the way back not about toilets and I enjoyed them both. I seem to like bollywood movies for some reason, they’re equal parts shock and awe spectacle meets actual entertainment and story. I like them unironically, even a three hour movie about someone trying to help his wife to not poo in a field. I just found it hilarious haha. I think indians have a great sense of humor about themselves and in general and their stories are fun and their romances aren’t too smoltzy, they’re nice and chased and sweet. It’s not all about sex and drugs and weird shit. A part from the pooing in the fields thing.

Didn’t get much writing done though of late, just been trying to reset my sleep schedule back to the polyphasic, so been really tired and it’s still hot as ever here. But I got some done and I did a few haikus on the plane and bus and train.

Today I think I’m going to actually read my excerpt pitch for Diana in the dark like I’ve been saying I’ll do for weeks now, because it’s getting near the time I actually might be pitching it. I’m in line to get some money together for more editing so I can get that done.

Oh yeah and I hate the witcher haha. They should change the name of the books to the ‘waffler’ because that’s all anyone does. Just waffling on about nonsense then the action breezes past and is gone for more waffling about nonsense. None of the characters are likeable and interesting but everyone is fascinated by Geralt because he’s the least boring character in the book. But honestly I don’t see what others see in him. He’s really rather dull, he’s just a wishy washy character too scared of his own shadow or self righteous to really take a position on anything and I feel like he’s a poor stand in for the writer who has just boring normie political views/takes on everything. I really just can’t pay attention to it, it doesn’t grab me at all.

Anyway must dash, work to be done.

Shit I think I’m running out of pictures of green haired chicks haha.

See you..

–

Scraping scratching sound. Grit and the soles of shoes on concrete sidewalks. Kat rose from her face flat position dazed on the ground picking grit out of the indents they’d made in her face. Spitting it out of her mouth. She stumbled forward tripping over her own feet stepping on something soft.

“Ow” A dull voice under her said.

Kat touched her nose and her hand came up with a little bit of blood and she started to well up.

“You’re standing on my hand” Roch screeched looking up at Kat.

“Bitch fuck you, I think my nose is broken!” Kat snapped back as she went through her purse to find a mirror “Had enough of your shi-“.

She was cut off by Roch pulling her feet out from under her. She crumpled to the ground softening her fall with her hands. Flipping over to kick and flail at Roch as she climbed Kat. Hitting her balled fist at any soft target she could find on the way.

By the time she was all the way on top of her they were in a full scale hissy fit. Biting and dull soft angry punches. Hair pulling and scratching and salty language all over the show. Only then interrupted by a screeching groaning sound of metal twisting and bending. They both turned around to find the source of the noise and the quickly growing shadow. As the turned over truck was turned over again right on top of them. Making a popping squelching peanut butter jelly sandwich getting sat on noise. Squeezing out dark red and black blood, spreading underneath the side of the truck.

A light repetitive tinny tapping sound as the small automatic fired inside the truck. punctuated by shotgun blasts punching the sides. A giant monstrous fist tore through the side of the van reaching deep inside. Wrenching the shotgun out of Carpenter’s greasy mitts and snapping it like kindling. Shaking the truck again like a gorilla in a cage made of tinfoil.

Carpenter pulling his head back to avoid it’s gargantuan grip. Coming in within a hairs breadth of his scraggly beard hair. The freakish thing angered by it’s arm length. It started to peel the metal from the side of the truck trying to make the hole bigger.

Jaclyn’s eyes fluttered in her head as consciousness came back. She was lying on her front, the laptop lying on a heap of debris in front of her on the side of the truck which was now the floor.

The screen was flashing and making alert noises like a popup, she crawled towards it. The screen was flashing the words “Launch signal ‘Yes or no’” flashing in red and orange.

Her body felt like a wrung out washcloth, it wasn’t moving right. She strained to pick her weight up onto her elbows and pull herself towards her laptop. She reached out, her breathing laboured, a pain in her side forcing her to collapse onto her face. She spat and breathed out as the stabbing pain robbed her of a breath. Determined, she started to crawl along like a slug using her chin and one arm to propel her along the floor. Her other hand keeping her ribs from shifting, groaning and hissing as she progressed.

With a noticeable effort she pressed enter. The signal launched with a cheesy nineties matrix loading screen.

A video started to play, a fat girl with green hair doing ridiculous dances in front of a webcam. “What the hell is this? This isn’t what we recorded.” It was Juanita twerking and falling over and pulling a dresser onto herself. She stood gasping, then smiled as if she meant to do that.

A bad jump cut later and she was looking into the camera, her face made up like Marilyn Monroe. “I’m Juanita Horker, the new feminist face of Zombie Surivor. I raised a half a million dollars from some beta orbiters on twitter to come here and kill Sunday. And become the new star you deserve, a more inclusive, gender queer plus size zombie killer”.

“Fucking bitc-!“ Her voice became a harsh rasping empty thing. She was interrupted by a tight bursting metal noise. She looked back to see what looked like a silver weathervain sticking out of her back.

A wrenching metal sigh and a slick unplugging as the lance came out of her back. It disappeared through the hole it made in the side of the truck.

The freakish hand of Garylynn retracted suddenly. Carpenter looked over at the Frenchman clicking the now empty mach ten at the wall of the truck panting. Carpenter smiled and signalled with his head.

“Out” The mechanical voice said.

They left the truck feeling like they’d been in there for days. Covering their eyes from the sun, coming out the bus like kids caught playing hookie.

The monstrous thing in front of the truck was just stood there breathing. Seething quietly looking up at the top of the truck.

The Lancer stood above them watching with those smiling eyes. He watched as the Frenchman and Carpenter got out.

“The other one too”

Carpenter let out a breathy laugh and went back into the truck. The silence punctuated by the sound of fumbling and reluctant muffled shouting. Carpenter strained as he lifted the chair Murray was tied to over the stairs. Making a clacking noise as the wheels hit the metal and concrete.

“Can you just untie me?” Murray shouted moving the gag out of his mouth.

“Nah” Carpenter said as he wheeled him out.

“You!” The Lancer pointed at the Frenchman, Carpenter and Murray. They all stopped dead and pointed at their chests like ‘Who me?’

The lancer turned to look away from them and at the opponent he’d picked in their stead. “You can go”.

–

Check out the rest of the chapter here.

Execute them!

0

GS2 Chapter 19 ‘You can be the boss’

Hey there,

Not much to talk about, mostly been dayjobbing it and sinking deeper and deeper into general misery and misfortune, which is standard recently. I just can’t seem to catch a fucking break recently.

Although I watched like two thirds of deep blue sea 2 before me and my brother turned it off and decided an hour was enough time we were never getting back from what is essentially a really bad low budget copy of the first film. Part me almost wants there to be a documentary about this movie just to learn how it came about.
Did they win the rights to the name in a poker game, how did this pile of shit get made and why? I really just want to know how this went down and what drugs they were on when they thought this was a good idea.

I’m not saying the first movie was a masterpiece but it was competent with a good cast and decent writing and visuals and budget, this was like a daytime tv remake. So much so it doesn’t need a review because I wasn’t really paying it any attention after the first ten minutes. The acting was ridiculous porno tier, the story was basically the same as the first movie but dumber, the characters were cookie cutter, the sets looked like they were re purposed from a sci-fi movie. It looked like it was made for the scy-fy channel.

The plot is basically they’re experimenting on the sharks and then the sharks overhear them saying they’re gonna kill them all when the research is done and the go berserk, I know it’s fucking stupid. But what’s even stupider is how this is put across is by the shark like looking through a window like “hmm that’s what they think mwahaha”. So dumb. 
It just amazed me how bad it was and reminded me a lot of those movies like sharknado and sharktopus versus gatoroid or whatever and it was actually worse. Because those movies are fully self aware of how awful they are and they just have as much fun as they can with it.
They’re trash but they’re enjoyable trash, deep blue sea 2 is not self aware or funny at all, it’s just trash and I don’t know why it exists or why I even attempted just reviewing it. I’m just so curious as to how it exists. Mind boggling.

Anywhoo back on schedule with regular chapter posts and I’m amazed how long GS2 is, like why? Why is a zombie book so long? That’s just sad. I put so much effort into a book about zombie furfags haha. What is my life?

Ok well enough of that, gotta do some actual work, kinda shitty here because my boiler dyed so I’m just wallowing in my filth and trading in warframe which is more addictive than the actual game. Love life in the crapper as usual even worse than usual actually and I broke my toe because I was so angry that I couldn’t have a shower that I kicked the banister, genius.

But it’s not the first time I’ve had a broken toe, after years of martial arts my toes look like fucking twiglets they’ve been broken so many times haha.

Eh whatever just gonna spam and maybe do some proof reading, now that I think of it I should probably go over the pitch excerpt for Diana after Dark. I went over the other parts last week and really cleaned it up, I found so many mistakes I thought I might legitimately have undiagnosed down syndrome haha. 

It’s really a good thing nobody follows this blog otherwise I would get a tonne of hate mail haha.

See you…

–

“Turn around, slow”

“Who th-“ Murray was cut off by a shotgun barrel poked hard into the side of his head. “Ow!”

“We ask the questions, you do what you’re fucking told.” Roch said through her teeth. She was feeling it, her adrenaline pumping, blood boiling, she wanted to hurt someone.

“That’s right, girls rule, straight white men, die!” Juanita came around the side of the truck. Trying to not look out of breathe as she lugged the giant anti-tank rifle around. Trying to look comfortable resting it on her shoulder.

“Freeze cracker!” Kat screamed trying to sound like a cop pointing her mach ten at him with both hands clasped tightly around it.

Jaclyn had her laptop in her arm, pointing her gun forward but not really aiming at anything. Concentrating on making her face look as mean and serious as possible.

Roch pulled Murray down the steps of the Van and span him around hard against the side of the truck. “Ow” He said “What’s all this about?”

She hit in him in the back of the knee and got close to his face and whispered “We’re asking the questions asshole”.

He straightened up grimacing and said “So ask away”.

“Jacy do we need this piece of shit?” She shouted. Clammily fingering the short shotgun pressed tightly to the back of Murray’s sweaty neck.

“I just need to access his network so we can broadcast our signal piggybacking off theirs so..”

Roch smiled, her blood rushing in her ears. Murray closed his eyes and swallowed hard and said “Fuck me”.

“But we might need him for verification.” She perked up. “We have no idea how many security protocols they have, they could even have iris or voice recognition.”

Roch poked her head out of her bloodlust stupor, Murray squinted.

“I’m just saying. It’d be better if had him and didn’t need him than blew his brains out. Only to discover he’s the only one that can access the network.”

“Err yeah, that’s exactly right” Murray said.

“Shut up” Roch said giving him another little love tap with the shotgun.

“Just bring him inside and sit him down.” Jac said.

“Who died and made you the boss”.

“Just do it Roch” Jac sighed as she climbed the small set of stairs into the mobile hq. She took a deep inhale of breath as she entered. It was everything she hoped it would be although it smelled more like ass and doritos than she imagined. She sat down at Murray’s console moving his mountain dew bottles to make way for her laptop. She opened it up connecting it to the terminal and started to type in command prompts.

Roch lead Murray. A nasty look on her face as she pushed him up the steps. She sat him at another one of the screens in the van on a chair connected to the floor. The van evidently was intended for an entire team of people watching the cameras, budget cuts.

Juanita felt like a million dollars. She was starting to see herself as some kind comic book hero. Fighting some righteous daydream as she dragged her oversized gun into the truck. Parking herself in a seat next to Murray with the gun by her side. Panting and sweating profusely she said “Who’s this guy?”

“He’s their tech guy, monitors all the cameras” Jac said with her back turned typing at her laptop.

“How didn’t he see us coming?” She wheezed.

“He’s just one guy.” She shrugged looking over at the sad sack that was Murray. “There’s no way he could have known we had the kind of tech to ping his signal or the man power to take down his guard team.” She scrunched her face like she almost felt sorry for him. “Plus I’ve been patching into their drone traffic. There’s activity happening all over town, there’s not enough eyes on the ground to keep track of it all.”

“So what now?” Juanita huffed.

“Roch would you mind tying him up and then just guarding the door with Kat? We need someone to keep an eye out.” Jac said with an air of aloof superiority.

“Sure thing” Roch sneered and flounced out slamming the door behind her.

“What the hell your cracker as-“ Kat was cut off by a neat balled up fist tapping her on the nose and knocking her onto her ass. The french man picking and palming the mach ten out of her hand as she fell.

“I’m very sorry.” He said as he looked at her on the floor dazed.

As soon as Roch came out of the truck she was too pissed off to notice the smell of the crazy homeless guy. Which waiting for her at the side of the steps with his back flat against the truck wall.

“Hi” He said cherrily as he snaked a hand onto the barrel of the shotgun. Wrestling control of it away from her and tapping her on the nose with the top of the barrel. She folded like a cheap pic nick table at a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

The Frenchman gripped the mac ten in his hand looking over at Carpenter. Gauging distance and spread.

Carpenter clocked him looking and gave him a cheeky little wink as he cocked the shotgun. Liking his chances.

The Frenchman seethed and slackened his grip on the gun.

“After you, my friend” The Frenchman said.

“I don’t mind if I do.” He smirked.

–

Read the rest of the chapter here.

0

GS2 Chapter 17 ‘Heavy Hitter’

Well here we are again,

Not much has transpired between now and since my last blog, oh I got banned on facebook again for having wrong opinions but that happens so often it doesn’t even bare mentioning anymore. Also I watched thor ragnarok, stupid jokes aside, I rather liked it so don’t feel the need to write a cathartic review about it. I really don’t enjoy gushing over something I like unless it really highlights something pivotal I think the human experience or something artsy fartsy like that.

I only really want to write negative reviews because it feels like I’m exorcising those bad films out of my system by dissecting them. I’m trying to understand what made them so bad and how I can avoid those pitfalls in my own work. And although I could do the opposite with good movies, it’s less fun and funny and I’d prefer to keep the good stuff secret. So you the audience at home will never know why I liked Thor Ragnarok, I know right, it’s a crying shame, everyone is just clambering to know my opinion of a movie that’s already yesterdays news haha.

Besides that I finished to some degree a basic outline for what are set to be five books so far in the Cur series, could be six, it’s still very rough. Also been playing Gwent again, that cursed addiction and I’m thinking of stopping reading blood and elves or just skipping it. It’s probably the most tedious book I’ve ever read.

I was memeing before when I said I was halfway through and the only thing that’s happened is Ciri got her period. Now I actually am at the 150th page and literally all that’s happened is Dandelion got kidnapped for a bit and saved by Yennefer, then Triss goes to Kaer Morhen has some weird visions then they go to take Ciri to a monastery type thing but Triss gets a tummy ache on the way. 

That is literally what has happened in a 150 pages of the second witcher book. He hasn’t met a monster, Geralt, actually no one has drawn a sword in the entire book. I’m not even counting the kidnapping as a fight. And I think what’s more is the writer who’s name I wont even attempt to spell knew this book was boring that’s why he put Ciri escaping Cintra at the start and the Dandelion kidnapping in. So people wouldn’t think that a sequel to a book about a monster slayer was actually a book about a babysitter or a nurse maid, because that’s all Geralt has done so far. 

But what’s worse is those parts at the beginning aren’t even good, the cintra bit was generic fluff I basically skimmed and the Dandelion bit seems kind of superfluous now that I’m halfway through the book and it hasn’t come back at all. 
I really genuinely just feel no drive at all to read this book and I just force myself for ten minutes at a time to read it, which is why it’s taking so damn long to finish, this is without a doubt the longest it’s taken me to read a book ever.

I’m not someone that reads books especially fast, I like to take my time, I sometime reread parts just to fully experience them but I’m pretty consistently devouring books and I get through a far few. And what with putting them on my phone it’s become even easier just to use every free moment to do so, but I don’t find myself wanting to with this crap. I’m just forcing myself to read this filler.

Nevertheless, I’ll continue to slog it out in the hope the next book can redeem it.

I have rambled enough, time to do some actual work, been dying to do the scene structuring for the first Cur book and fingers crossed I might even start writer the fucker some time this year haha.

See you…

_

Zomnision watched the police station station burn. The fires reflecting in his now glassy expressionless eyes. His face was blown out and distended and looked something a kin to a Spanish omelette.

But he was pleased with himself, he wasn’t a fake anymore, he was a real psychic, a god, a zombie god. Accustomed to such, he’d given up walking. Opting instead to lounge his aching exposed joints to a throne of soft furries. Their bodies interlocked by his will. The base of which took their weight. They crawled along at the speed of a caterpillar in the midst of the thousand strong throng of his cult like followers. A sea of colourful characters wreaking havoc across the small town. Striking in unison as if they were a sword in his own hand, organised and merciless and kind of cute.

“Soon” He whispered “First this town, and then the world shall know my power is real”.

A strange disruption, a silver flash, furries flying in the air like an explosion in a build a bear store. Fluff raining down as this slim flash of sliver cut a path straight forward.

“What is that?” Zomnision said.

The Lancer was fast and precise, moving like a sliver of silver caught in an updraft. A living scalpel to cut out the cancer.

“You dare strike at me?”

The furries moved in a wave, surrounding the Lancer. Thousands of them piling all over him, moving as if connected, forming shapes even. Moving like the waves of an ocean battering against the Lancer. Pulling him down.

Zomnision’s face flaps jiggled as he laughed a cheesy comic book villain laugh.

The light forming in the cracks of the furry horde launched them upwards. A splash of them flying through the air like water particles. Fluff and blood and gore levitating for brief flashes. Silver sparks flashing inbetween brief pops of activity. The Lancer climbed the furries. He hopping them as they floated like stepping stones in some vertical zen garden. Cutting a swath closer and closer, an unstoppable immovable object colliding with mortality. A train with no tracks to rend bones to dust.

Zomnision was overwhelmed. His powers burgeoning on godhood but caught with his trousers down. His full potential a glimmer in his eye. The throne he was sitting on started to subsume him. The furries lifted and covered him. Interlocking like some horrible mix between power rangers and barnie the dinosaur. Forming on him like living armour fluffy armor. But it was too late, the Lancer had no time. No monologue would hold him back to witness some final transformation. This was a hurdle, a hiccup to correct before moving on.

He straddled the furry well, bubbling with activity like a rainbow anthill. He reached his metallic long claw deep into the pile. A crunching snapping noise like he was pulling a tooth and it came out spiked on his three pronged claw.

The head of the fake psychic.

The Lancer looked at it and smiled with his eyes. The pile of furry started to crumble and disperse. He walked down it as it collapsed like a poorly made sandcastle. He took the misshapen mushy excuse for a head. Placing it in some kind of sack made of an metallic alloy and affixed to his hip and continued on.

The furries seemed disinterested in the tall silver man. Their demeanors hadn’t changed. No magical spell was caste slaying the head vampire so easily, the effects were the same. They were still dead, sort of, and they were still furries. But now they were regular zombies, hungry and directionless. That was until an ear cracking explosion caught their attention over the horizon.

Suddenly filled with purpose. The now stringless zombie furries shambled in the general direction of the noise.

The Lancer watched them go and let out a robotic tinny laugh.

–

The donut shop was shredded by a large explosion. The giant metal donut on top was still connected on top just a little singed but still standing. The supports of the heavy donut groaning and shrieking under it’s weight.

The cooling barrel of a clip fed grenade rifle smoked in Juanitas hands. She held it in front of her crotch like a giant metal strapon.

“Nita why’d you blow up the donut shop?” Jaclyn screeched.

Juanita was shaking with her eyes closed. Satisfied sweat dripping down her pasty face as she held the giant rifle between her legs. She shook her head and opened her eyes coming out of it and said “Huh o-what?” She got snotty instantly, reaching back for that nasally vocal fry. “That and places like that victimize people of size like myself. Using their biology against them to make them fat”. She was panting a little and she dropped the guns stock to the ground. Holding herself up with it like a crutch and then said “Oh and I call dibs on this”.

Kat was loading up a mach ten looking down the sights of the compact sub machine gun. She cocked her head to the side and said “You can keep it honey, I don’t want anything to do with that thing.”

“Yeah too phallic, and too- black” Roch said as she cocked a pistol grip shotgun.

Kat looked back at her giving her the side eye but Roch didn’t look up as she loaded the compact shotgun.

Jaclyn looked at the large rifle Junita was leaning on. It looked like a huge sniper rifle, almost the length of the girl leaning on it. She differed to the users manual “Copperhead anti-tank rifle” She recited.

Juanita snatched the users manual off her and threw it into the gutter. “No one looks at these, just take this.” She said as she shoved a small pistol into Jaclyn’s hand.

“Wwwwait, I’ve never!”

“Oh stow it, if straight white men can do it then so can you girlfriend.” Juanita said clicking her fingers still leaning one hand on the large rifle.

“I guess.” She said looking down at it. She lifted her head and said “We need to get moving, they’re watching us for sure now. If we want to complete our mission we need to move fast.”

“Ok, but let me fire off another round first.” Juanita said as she lifted the huge gun with both hands burying the stock into her warm sweaty crotch. Gripping it with her huge thighs. “Ooh” She shivered as she stroked up the long black shaft fingering the trigger.

–

If you liked this and want to read more, head on over to inkitt by pressing on the link below.

Heavy Hitter

0

GS2 Chapter 16 ‘Get at Me’

Good day humanoid creatures, not excluding non-euclidian slime constructs too un-nameably horrible to describe of course. Wouldn’t want to transdimensional amorphous nightmare shame.

It’s that time again, for me to talk words again, basically ramble about nonsense and then copy pasta a chapter from my nonsensical books and disappear into the ether yet again.

So been mostly just proofreading 3 ring, should really be putting some finishing touches on my Diana pitch but I just got let back on facebook so I’m too busy shitposting and spamming haha.

Also been watching the new season of Bosch and wishing I could write serious stuff, the closest thing to that is Diana, a story about  teenage serial killer. Although The One That Came Back is played serious and it’s actually doing really well on Inkitt.

But I’m itching to write the next Diana book, I just really want back into that world so bad, but something is telling me it’s too soon. I need a push really, trying to conjure it up because I wanted to start it this week but I might just work on Cur instead and push it along. It has to be just right, I can’t force it, it needs to come naturally and at the right time. Has to be organic. I want to savour it, I don’t want to rush it.

I really don’t know what I want to do with myself, I’ve been reading the second Witcher book Blood of Elves for inspiration and it’s far better than the first so far in that it’s actually a book and not a witcher cheesy clip show haha.
Y’all know I only rag on the witcher out of insecurity haha. It’s so well written it makes me sad, like how can I write something even close to on par with this? Even if the first one’s story didn’t make much sense. 
Again any gripes I have with this book are pure insecurity on my part  and I accept this fully and strive to be comparable. So far in the book not much has happened and I’m a fair way through it, around chapter 2 and these are pretty long chapters. But so far all that’s happened is a bunch of people talking for the purposes of world building and then the least interesting characters talk about the most interesting characters and then Triss goes to the witchers castle (I thought I could spell it, not even gonna try haha). No real action yet which is disappointing since the first book starts really strong. It’s not two minutes into the first book before he’s slicing up fools and then having a fight with a striga.

But this book seems content with describing mountains to an insane level detail that are sort of a waste of time. I dunno like if I wrote this stuff my editor would have cut it out. Is it essential to have every crag on the mountain described? I mean I like it, it makes me feel like I’m there but it isn’t propelling the story and there kind of isn’t one yet. There is no propelling narrative other than Ciri is special for reasons and shadowy men want at her. It’s making me want to play the games again though haha. I dunno like I loved the games and people were constantly praising the story and I thought it was bog standard ‘save the princess’ stuff with a few twists here and there where the princess is also a bad ass which also now isn’t a twist.

Although it never really felt forced with Ciri because it’s not implied that Ciri is more skilled than Geralt, despite Ciri having the powers of the elder blood. I think that transfers to the games too. There’s a distinct different feel when you swap between her and Geralt with all his cool powers and tonics and gadgets and her magic warping powers.

Still a fantastic game that deserves all the praise it gets which pissed me off at the time because I really wanted to be an uber edgelord and hate it haha.

Anyway enough rambling please to read my insanity, thanking you.

*Oh snap, almost forgot to mention Inkitt got back to me about 3 ring not being approved and they were all like “You used ‘unfamiliar characters'” or something along those lines so for a few minutes I felt decidedly silly. Until I realised the characters they were referring to were separators I use as a scene brake, aka something I’ve used in every one of my stories up til now, really gets the old noggin’ joggin’ there don’t it haha?

See you…

Get at me

~

There was a quiet ferreting knock at the chief’s office door.

“Err, chief?”

“Shhh, go away, I’m not coming out until the national guard show up!” The chief whispered.

“But sir, I don’t think we can stay here.” Coral said through the door of the chief’s office.

A rustling noise came from behind the door and an irritated clicking. The chief popped his head and the barrel of his colt python through the tight gap and spat “Coral! Go the fuck away or so help me- oh jesus!” He said as he looked past Coral at the dismay of the office. The spent cartridges and the bodies and little fires dying.

“It doesn’t get much better from there sir, erm, the building is being sieged.” Coral said. The chief gingerly entered the destroyed office.

“Sieged?” He said looking back.

“Yes sir, erm, by giant stuffed animals, or something.”

“What?” He said scrunching his fat face up.

–

The side fire door creaked open cautiously.

“Well they look like stuffed animals and they kill people, it’s hard to explain” Coral said as he went through the door. It was morning now, the sun was up and beaming cosmic rays of joy onto the snowy chaos.

“Wait Coral-“ The chief put his hand up to shush Coral. The python fully erect in his other hand as they heard these noises building. A distant whooping sound coming over the horizon. Dark blots looming, masked by the bright morning sun.

“What is it?”

“They’re here, we’re saved” The chief said smiling, holstering his gun and hiking his belt over his fat gut.

“Who’s here?”

“The national guard, the cavalry, the army, whoever.” He said turning back to Coral. Coral cupped his hands to protect from the glare of the sun. He could just make out their outlines and the spinning blades of helicopters whisking up the cold mountain air.

“Helicopters?” As if summoned by his words they passed overhead with a triumphant whooshing of air. He could almost hear in his mind the sound of flight of the valkries or some doors song from a vietnam movie.

“Damn straight, U.S.A Coral, we’re gonna be o-k, we’re-” He smiled and looked off into the bright sun, warming his face. “We’re gonna be just fi-“ His sentence cut off by a giant metal canister pulping him against the concrete. His guts and brains splattering Coral like they were thrown over him with a bucket.

Coral stopped dead in his tracks, dazed. He scooped his bosses guts out of his eyes allowing him to see a sleek pod of some sort. Slaked in the remaints of the fat police chief glistening in the mid morning sun.

–

The door of the atv clicked and opened. The limp body of the Frenchman rolled out of the driver’s seat onto the concrete garage floor. Falling like a dead gold fish getting poured into a toilet bowl.

The back passenger seat opened and Sunday climbed down from the high atv. Her long smooth naked legs gliding past eachother as she walked over towards the Frenchman. She padded him for his guns and ammo. She pulled the nine from his grip and the extra clip and threw it onto the front passenger seat. He lay lifeless on his back, eyes closed like he was sleeping.

When she was done she walked over to her headless body, the only sounds; her bare feet on the cold concrete. She looked down at it, pausing for a moment of thought, it looked so, pathetic. Smaller than her for some reason, sad like broken doll parts. Sighing or making some quiet noise to herself she started undressing her corpse. An odd tussle, like undressing a clothes store mannequin. The clothes seemed tighter, like the body was expanding or the clothes shrank in the cold.

When it was naked it looked even sadder, limp but getting colder and more rigid. She looked down at her headless bodies ankle and saw a small icecream tattoo. Looking down at her own ankle noticing it wasn’t there she got a strange creeping feeling. She was literally standing over her own grave.

She started to dress, the clothes were cold and crisp and felt itchy on her skin for some reason. It was unpleasant but better than freezing to death out there.

“So that’s how it is huh?”

Sunday zipped up her jacket and turned nonchalant to her other and said nothing. Her clone was coming out of the drivers seat still naked. Her skin getting more opaque but still white and slick looking.

Sunday ignored her and moved to the front of the atv pulling the corpse of her other clone off the hood by the ankle.

It was surprisingly light and came off with almost a single tug. It was a little too fast and the height and softness of the skull made a mess on Sunday’s shoes as it hit the concrete floor.

“Fucking great” She sighed.

“So you’re just going to ignore me?” The other one said.

Sunday passed her and stopped, looking at her hand. Her fingers had grown back, no scars, no nothing, like it never happened.

She walked over to her bat lying on the floor. Looking at the remnants of BJ strewn across the floor. Then over in the corner at Jimmies body slumped with a bullet in the head. She picked it up deliberately like it was cursed, letting its teeth scrape along the floor.

“You think this is a dream?” Her other said. “You can just leave me here, naked, alone and you and the fat kid are just gonna what? Drive off into the sunset?”

Sunday continued to ignore her like she wasn’t there. She moved to the rear passenger seat door to check on TJ. She opened the door and he was still passed out. She checked his finger, it was still missing, no point in trying to find it now, but the bleeding had stopped. She checked his pulse and his temperature, he was cold but his breathing was solid. She pulled his coat over him like a blanket and closed the door again. Without changing her expression from stolid concern.

She breathed in and out deep as she leaned against the door. Her face cold and contorting. Angry tired tears building up at corners of her eyes, kept in check by a bottled frustration.

“You’re a freak, he’ll know that soon enough, what’s the point in hiding it?” The other said. “Look at me, you’re not even human anymore.”

Sunday wiped her face and sniffed with a rising righteous anger. She ripped the drivers side door of the atv open and climbed in and slammed the door behind her. She sighed and fumbled for the keys in the pocket of her jacket and started up the engine.

It was quiet again, in her mind, in the garage; only the roaring hum of the engine. She rested her arms across the steering wheel. Dropping her head against them and started to weep softly.

“What makes you any more special than me?” The other said pressing against the drivers side door looking at her through the open window. “You were here first, is that how it is? You’re not speci-.“ A nine millimitre bullet shredding through her eyesocket shut her up. Sunday sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand with the nine in it. She licked her lips and swallowed. Her throat was raw now and her face was burning, the sound of the gunshot seemed to go on and on.

The body of the other still stood for a moment like a broken animatronic. Then crumpling under it’s own weight like it was made of coathangers and spackle. Hitting the concrete with a strange wet slapping noise.

She cursed herself and angrily threw the gun out of the car, like it was to blame.

Sunday bit her lip, scrunching up her face, mad, at herself, at everything she couldn’t change. She turned the rearview mirror to look at herself and attempted a limp cocky smile. Then dropped it like it weighed a tonne. She turned the mirror back and started the engine.

A ringing noise started as if out of nowhere, a phone?

–

A call came in on Jaclyn’s laptop, she answered hastily, her little heart pumping.

Macintosh’s strangely bulbous head came into to view, maybe he was just standing too close to his webcam.

“It’s time gender non-conforming humanoids. Pack up, we need to move fast, I’ve marked the cache on your map.” He made that effeminate sucking noise again and said nothing.

“Got it Mac, come on everyone, we need to move.” Jaclyn said in a peppy camp councillor voice. To which everyone collectively groaned and eye rolled.

“Hey, I’m the leader here” Juanita said spitting half chewed chirros out of her mouth. “I tell us to go” She paused “Let’s go everyone! What are we waiting for?”

Kat was even more jittery now. Her hands shaking as she opened the blinds “It’s good, cost seems clear, I don’t think any normal people are even awake yet.”

Roch hopped out of her seat and walked up to the window next to Kat and said “Finally, lets get out of this shithole.”

Kat looked at her and sneered “You brush your teeth with shit?”

Roch looked at her and said “Fuck you” storming off, with her back turned breathing into her hand and sniffing it.

“Is this thing working or not, piece of crap?” Juanita said getting in the face of the monster they had on loan from Lysander labs, unofficially.

“Erm, it should be working, I think it’s just in like on standby, power saving mode, ya know?” Jaclyn said.

“Well we need it now, wake it the fuck up!” Juanita said shaking her head with a latin bob.

“Ok let me just-” She started tapping at her laptop.

“Wakey wakey” Juanita started to tap at it’s large misshapen head like she was knocking on a door.

The thing started to shake. It lumbered forward but now its spine started to straighten and it was a huge thing once again. It’s eye red and glowing.

“We’ve got work to do”

“WORK” The thing said robotically.

–

“What the fudge” Coral said as he slopped gore onto the back parking lot of his former office.

The canister was shaped like an egg, like one of those things covered in chocolate you get kids toys out of. But the seam was at the front and it had a see-through window.

Some strange force compelled his curiosity to overreach his abstract horror and desire to not be dismembered. He got close enough to look to crane his neck over the steaming mess of his former boss to look inside.

Before he could get close enough the door in the front opened with a hiss of nmeutatics and a cloud of steam. Then a rattling clicking noise. Something quick and small launched itself into the mist.

Carl coughed and blinked, taking off his glasses and rubbing his nose. He tried to clear the smoke and then blinked again as he saw a squat figure hunched over by the pod.

“Err, are you lost kid, do you need me to find your parents” Carl said, half dazed by a chunk of brain hitting him in the face.

“Kid?” The figure said, shaking.

The smoke cleared and the figure stood to a less than impressive five foot nothing. He turned without moving his feet. An unnatural pose, turning his spine around revealing a young fresh face. Maybe even some freckles and a tuft of light coloured hair. Which was poking out of what looked like a chrome centurion helmet.

He was what looked like a fourteen year old kid wearing a skin tight jumpsuit. The suit looked vaguely metallic covered in exagonal scales. His arms and legs encased in some kind of weird layered armor.

“Are you here for that furry convention? Are you one of those Larpers? I used to play dungeons and dragons as a kid, I’m kinda cool for an adult.” Coral was rambling.

The kid grinned, his eyes were weird, one blue one green. A section of the centurion helmet came down and locked in place hiding his face. A thin strip of light behind a glass visor.

“Oh that’s cool, did you make that yourself? Is this from an anime I haven’t seen yet?”

The kid kept smiling with his eyes as if by magic a beanstalk started to grow. He was getting taller.

“What the heck?”

The kids legs and arms were getting longer and thinner and sharper. The armor on his arms and legs were telescopic, extending like a pointer. Growing long and gangly but still rigid and strong, his limbs were thin and monstrous like a metal spider’s legs. He’d grown to a height of at least nine feet tall.

One hand reached back, the dexterity was still as precise as if it was his real hand. The limbs moved effortlessly, quick and responsive. His left hand gripped at a raised portion of the back of his suit. It began to pull at some long strange soft metallic object, like it was made of fabric or a thin mail chain.

Pulling it out it was appeared to be some kind of silvery baton, a completely unremarkable piece of metal.

“Err that’s kind of cool”

The kid chuckled, his voice enhanced by the visor to sound deeper and more monstrous. Inside the visor he smiled, bright lights illuminating his face.

The kid pressed an almost invisible button on the underside of the baton. The pod he arrived in started to vibrate the ground under it. Hatches at the side opening a gasp of hissing mneumatics. Two ufos shot out spinning too fast to keep track of. The pod hatches closed. An indecernible lump of flesh from the chief plopped onto the ground taking on no real shape, making a grotesque sound.

Whipping wurring noise sounded. The light and the speed made it impossible to see what the two objects flying through the air were. Just glimpses through the corner of Coral’s eyes. Brief flashes like cars passing too fast reflecting the light. A wooshing noise around his ear and a brief flits of fast moving air, his hair parting.

The two pieces locked into place at the end of the dull metal shaft the kid was holding. Forming a long chrome double headed lance.

Carl began to clap nervously like he just saw a clown juggling flaming chainsaws.

The Lancer cringed as he felt a wave of condescension coming from the gangly dispatcher. Pity applause. A fearful uproarious clapping.

“That was, uhm, something else” Coral said laughing uncomfortably. “Oh I get it now, you’re like an anime mash up of Inspector gadget. ” He laughed. “Should have known by the gogo gadget extending arms, wow, how long did it take to make all this stuff?”

A light flashed in the Lancer’s helmet. On the inside a screen was illuminated. Directives, written in a standard type font it read “Contain infection, Kill fatso”.

The lancer scanned the skinny dispatcher and there was zero threat. He was unarmed and unoffensive.

Still, feeling slighted. He turned his lance over and pressed a button. A quick roaring noise launched the end of his lance at an inhuman speed like a rocket.

Coral ducked grabbing his head, cowering holding onto his butt.

He looked around and he was intact, not a scratch. He shrieked as he looked at the wall of the police station. A foot away from where his head was was the other end of the lance stuck at least a six inches into the wall’s structure.

The Lancer was walking away and Coral shakily called out “Hey, you forgot your, err, thing!”

The Lancer lifted his lance without looking back and pressed another button. The lance in the wall started to wiggle like a tooth being extracted. The wall shaking, it sounded like it was drilling it’s way out.

In an instant it burst loose with a cough of cement dust and rubble. Shooting back onto the other end of the lance with a thin sheen of masonry dust and a clicking noise.

Coral breathed a sigh of relief before the entire wall collapsed on him, crushing him to death.

0

GS2 Chapter 15 ‘Fist of the White Lotus’

Another day, another morning where I feel like someone dropped a tanker truck on me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m actually following my polyphasic sleep schedule a little tighter to make more time for reading and cooking or if it’s because of my encroaching gains or both haha.

I had a protein shake this morning so I should perk up around about the time I need to do it all again haha. But results are really good, feeling good looking good. I still miss martial arts, I’d love to get back into them but I have this weird dichotomy in my head where I feel like diverting time and energy away from writing in any capacity even for a day would be a hinderance. But moreover it’s the social aspect. I find solace in the solitude of lifting weights at home. 

I just have my videos I use, I have my own weight and I just work and that’s how I like it. I miss the the catharsis of beating the shit out of people but I feel like I need the solitude and I need the space in my head. I dunno maybe it’s because the only martial arts club around is the one I grew up going to and I feel sort of like a failure, I’m almost thirty and I’m still trying to make a career out of pulling dumb stories out of my ass and working a dumb entry level job populated by teenagers and my hair is thinning haha. 

Does this qualify as a mid life crisis? I dunno, but I hope not because I sure as shit can’t afford a sports car haha.

Down to business, erm so I got another 10k out of Chrissy, my new editor and that’s what I’m doing today haha. Just gonna be proofreading and building my agent pitch with Diana. I was looking at the definition of ‘women’s fiction’ and funny enough it qualifies so that should be funny using that shitlib identity politics bullshit to try and make it appeal to cat ladies in new york haha. I mean what the fuck is ‘women’s fiction’? I mean how is that a thing?

This is where I put on my fedora and say “Why isn’t there a ‘men’s fiction”.

Then I put on my womyn respecter pink pussy hat and say “Because all fiction is male fiction bigot!”

But in all seriousness I wrote Diana without any politics in mind at all and she’s basically just me meets Dexter in pink panties haha. I just wanted to make an interesting fun story because that’s what I keep coming back to. 

Don’t get me wrong I love these deep meaningful stories like fight club but I never find myself coming back to them. I enjoy them in the moment but I would never reread something like that for fun. But every time I read Dexter I enjoy it. So that’s what I want to write, it’s what I like to write and I can still attempt those fight club style stories with my own spin, which is relevent because a podcast I was listening to recently did a bit on the deeper meaning of fight club and that’s sort of what encouraged me to start 3 ring samurai. So that stupid shit about samurai clowns is my answer to fight club haha.

I am really enjoying writing it though. 

Still hammering away at the first witcher book, I like it but it takes a concentrated effort to read it, mainly because it’s not really about anything, it’s just a bunch of unconnected stuff happening, a fantasy clip show with the only real connection being they’re stories about Geralt. So I find it hard to follow because there is no plot thread pushing me along. But it’s well written and I was reading it this morning thing “I say ‘said’ way too much” do they not have a word for ‘said’ in polish?

I can barely understand who’s talking most of the time and Geralt loves to fucking talk, he’s going for this brooding badass emo (spacing on the name of the character he’s a direct copy of) but he never shuts his fucking mouth haha. Like he has these long monologues sometimes, in fact there’s even a bit where he has this one sided conversation with a mute.

But I’m like is this what cool writers do, never use the word ‘said’ then the mini freakout bullet sweats starts, maybe I should start deleting all the ‘saids’ haha ^_^’. Just gonna ctlr+f search all ‘said’s and erase them and hope for the best haha.

Nah I’m not doing that, just gonna keep going over it and that’s what I should be doing now instead of just talking nonsense.

See you…

Fist of the White Lotus

~

“Mr Fuzzles, I can’t run anymore” Sparkles exclaimed in her cartoonish girly voice.

Fuzzles was breathing heavy, feeling like he’d been dragging her the whole time. His costume was drenched in sweat, heavy and getting heavier by the minute. The cold setting in everytime they had to stop. He looked up and down the street and saw that they looked invariably empty, they were a good block and a half away from the police station.

“Are you ok, did they get you?” He said looking back at her.

She looked at herself up and down patting herself with her hoofs and said shaking her head “I don’t think so”

“I thought I lost you, they were everywhere, they got so close, I was sure-“

“We’re ok, thanks to you, my cat in shining armor” She said giggling.

“Really?”

She nodded emphatically. Leaning over and planting a kiss on his whiskered cheek making a loud smooch kissing noise.

He clutched his paws to his chest and then his face as if he was blushing.

“What are we gonna do now, the police station was no good, where else can we go that’s safe?” She asked.

“What’s that?” Fuzzles said pointing at Sparkles foot.

“Huh?” She said as she started to twist and turn to look around herself.

“There, on your foo-hoof” He caught himself.

“Oh” She said as she peeled a brightly coloured wet pamphlet off her hoof. She opened it and started to read it like a child. “Whitefish mall, stores galore. A giant pirate themed Christmas show every hour, and the largest indoor icerink in the pacific northwest.” She opened more panels on the pamphlet.

Fuzzles sidled up next to her and started to look it over. He enthusiastically took the pamphlet off of her and said “This place is huge, it looks like a fortress.”

“It’ll be a great place to hide.” She said.

“No one would find us there and there’d be food and who knows what else.” He added.

“How do we get there?” She said.

He flipped over the pamphlet and said “There’s a map on the back.”

“Yay, let’s go.” Sparkles said as she hooked her hoof around Fuzzles arm. They started to skip in the snow in the general direction of the mall. As she turned it made visible a small tear in her costume. The tear revealed a pair of boxer shorts with hearts on them and a small bite mark below the leg opening on a hairy leg.

–

“You think I am born yesterday?” The Frenchman said as he tapped TJ on the head with his own severed pinky finger laughing.

TJ’s eyes fluttered and he passed out from the pain.

The Frenchman stood and scoffed looking down at TJ lying flat on the concrete floor.

He sniffed the air and then had a strange sensation at the back of his neck. The sensation spreading all the way around his head until he could feel it on his face. Cold fingers, little dainty fingers were crawling around his head like a spider’s legs. For some reason this didn’t alarm him, straight away. He didn’t feel any inherent intent and the feeling was so strange it felt almost like a dream. A wave of euphoria and disbelief swishing around in his head. The fingers were slimy and thin. When they got in his nose and mouth he sputtered and spat and turned around. Waking from his daydream to see.

A girl.

She was naked, green hair, soft pale skin. So pale it looked see through, like a permeable membrane. Bright blue veins running under the surface, small pert breasts, long sleek legs. She almost glowed like some sort of sprite or faerie. Delicate, yet boyish facial features completed the woodland nymph aesthetic. His turning abruptly off balanced her. Her legs moving like that of a newborn horse. She crumpled into a dainty pile on the floor looking like a renaissance painting. The girl was looking around the room as if she’d never seen lights before. She cowered and covered her shame with her small hands.

The Frenchman was dismayed. He coughed as if he forgot how to swallow. He still had TJ’s finger in his hand. He looked at it and laughed a little and then tossed it away wiping his hand. He jumped to her aid taking off his battered leather jacket to wrap around the young helpless girl. Stuttering red of cheek as he said “Mademoisselle, forgive me, sil vous plait”.

He draped his coat across her shoulders and patted them. He grunted as he got up to a knee. He moved around her like a squat plumber trying to get better angle on a ubend but she shyed from his glance. He took her chin in his hand and smiling said “What’s your name?”

She looked up and furrowed her brow.

He felt a strange sensation in his gut, de ja vu. Someone was walking over his grave. Her face, he looked off by the atv and saw the headless body of the woman he saw decapitated as he entered. “Impossible’” He muttered under his breathe.

The girl whispered her name “Sunday” her throat dry and raspy.

A sound came from the other side of the room. A mneumatic hiss and gears turning. The large garage doors were starting to open and light from the garage was leaking out. The door opened slow. The gap started growing bigger between it and the floor. A stage curtain lifting, revealing furry feet growing taller and taller. They were out there silently waiting, rows and rows of them thick.

BJ sat with his back to a column next to the garage door bleeding out. The control box connected to the garage door with a long thick cable in his lap. He was holding it down to open the garage doors, lying in a puddle of his own blood coughing and sputtering as it came up. Only one arm seemed usable the other was dead and drenched in blood, his lower body was caked in it but he was still alive.

“I’ll get you, you french faggot!” He cursed between bouts of bloody coughing.

“Merde” He called as he started to look for more ammo in his pockets closing the gap between BJ and himself. He saw Sunday’s bat on the floor. The garage doors were getting wider like the jaws of a giant crocodile, but slow, painfully slow.

The Frenchman stomped towards the bat catching his breathe.

BJ laughed, sputtering more and more blood as the heavy door rose. Before he could take in this small kamikaze victory he was dragged through the small gap. A furry monkey wearing a ‘I heart bananas’ t-shirt wrenched him by the head and shoulders. The garage door closing down on him. The force of the monkey and the door keeping him in place ripping him two disjointed pieces.

The Frenchman stopped in his tracks as the door slowly closed again on the twitching remains of BJ. Which was his legs and most of his lower body. He made a face like he wished he hadn’t seen that. “I must go” He said to himself.

He heard the patting of fast bare feet and he turned to see his jacket lying on the floor but no girl. He turned again and she was right there an inch from his face, her face pale and lined with veins

“BOO!” She shouted in his face, the wind of her breath knocking him back. He stumbled backwards tripping over Sunday’s bat. Slashing out of clumsy fear with his tanto knife. Cutting at her outstretched hand slicing off her fingers. She screamed and he landed at the feet of Bj’s leftovers. It was a hard fall for a man of advancing years, his large frame and weight hitting the ground like a sack of faberge eggs.

He rose to his forearms shakily, he’d landed face first in BJ’s blood and guts and it was all over him. He looked at his hands touched his face and grimaced at the smell. The disgust of being covered in the vile sticky cooling substance growing. He saw the steam rising off what could have been a portion of lower intestine and started to heave.

He rummaged around in his pants and found what he was looking for. He slipped the extra clip into his nine with a mechanical sliding clicking sound. He arose from the muck, hunched like a troll, the nine at waist height. He looked frantic, his eyes darted from corner to corner. Listening for those bare feet on the concrete floor.

He heard them and laughter and he fired into the dark garage. The sound of bullets hitting concrete with a cold slap, the jangling of car parts but no blood or cries of pain.

A building sound, whispering, talking.

“Over here” The voices said.

He fired in the direction of the sound and rounded the atv quickly to find nothing. Not even the fatboy was still there.

“Merde”.

“Over here” The voices whispered again.

He turned and marched around the car holding his gun like a detective chasing down the pink panther. The panther, just out of reach.

“I’m right here a louder voice said.” Accompanied by the sound of bare feet on metal, a bouncing balking sound of suspension.

He turned to see her, she was standing on the car, completely naked. Her hands on her hips like Peter Pan smiling cockily. She looked strange, translucent, so much so it seemed like you could see her skeleton through her skin. She looked down at him and laughed at his confused frightened eyes.

The Frenchman hesitated for a split second but his composure came back in droves. He took aim and fired hitting her right between the eyes.

The bullet landed but she remained standing on the car smiling for a another few seconds with the hole in her head. Before her expression slipped off her face and she fell lifeless onto the hood. Like a hunting trophy making a light thud.

He was confused even more now, he approached the body of the girl he shot lying lifelessly on the hood of the atv. There was no doubt it was the girl he saw before, same face, same hair, the skin was different. He turned her head and the back of it was missing, that was different. He hadn’t missed, this wasn’t a trick, he shot her in the head. She was dead, again.

But the noise of feet could be heard again. That slapping of warm feet on cold concrete, was ghostly now. His heartbeat slackened as the room was silent but for the calm shuffling of furries outside. Cushioned banging noises of padded paws clutching at nothing.

He probed the darkness with his gun like he was parting a curtain or a bed of seaweed on a coral reef. A bone white hand grabbed at his wrist in answer. It wasn’t a strong grip but it was fixed like it had sealed around his arm and he couldn’t shake it off. It stuck onto his wrist like a shark bite and it wouldn’t let go. He was taken aback, left with no choice. His mind fluttering like the pictures in a slideshow. Reaching for the tanto knife and slicing and sawing. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to cut through the supple thin skin and soft muscle tissue. The bone parted easily like it was made of still drying cement.

He pulled his arm back dropping the gore caked knife on the concrete floor. His breathing slackened off and he said “Putain!” walking around the edge of the atv. He opened the drivers side door and climbed in and shut it behind him locking the door. He checked the ignition, the keys weren’t there. He flipped down the sun-visor and there was no joy, he opened the glove box and a little light came on but no hope.

“Merde.” He sat for a second in contemplation, the silence encroaching slowly. He flicked open a folding knife and started prying the panels under the dash. Only then noticing the white hand and forearm were still firmly connected to his wrist.

He held back a scream and in a frenzy pried the hand away from his wrist. Letting it drop into the passenger footwell. There was a strange smell and an odd sucking sapping noise.

He looked into the back rearview mirror. The fatboy was lying across the backseat breathing heavily a sheen of sweat on his face. The Frenchman sat forward again and swallowed. He wiped the sweat from his brow going back to work on the exposed wires.

Then another sound, a low hissing right next to his head. The arm shot out again, latching onto his wrist but there was more. Attached was an elbow and an upperarm. Both covered in a wet slimy looking see through membranous skin.

He was frozen in the grip of a terrible unknown. The arm leveraged at his wrist for purchase. Lumbering into sight an inhuman spectacle. Attached to the arm was an unnameable thing, person shaped. A skeleton sprouting like roots right before his eyes, soft and warm and with a strange sweet smell. A blob of translucent goo taking a vaguely person-shaped form. A skull forming like decay in reverse, soft and clay like. Forming underneath the translucent bubble of plasma. Teeth and eyes and tufts of green hair.

He tried to shout, say something but the Frenchman had no air in his lungs to scream. No words that would explain this travesty of nature unfurling in front of him, right at his feet. It rose like a ghostly snot bubble between his legs, climbing his thighs, latching to his clothes.

A phrenetic fumbling for his gun ensued. His eyes not moving off the shifting, shapeless form building in his crotch region.

His hands felt weak and disjointed. The adrenaline rushing around his body rendering his muscles limp and slow like he was moving underwater. He aimed the gun in the region where he could see the brain forming in real time under the translucent skin sack.

“Psss” A hushed voice said from the backseat.

He caught his breathe and looked into the rearview mirror. A shock of green and white and a wirey arm snaked around his neck locking in place. One hand locked on the other white bicep. Her other hand behind his head pushing it down squeezing his carotid. Her head was next to his, he could hear her breathing in his ear. Smell her hair and skin, her warm cheek pressed against his stubbly greasy one.

His vision started to get spotty, his gun came up slow using the mirror for guidance. He could see her teeth, the top of her head cut off by the angle of the mirror. The gun creeping through the air as if on strings getting closer to both their heads locked together. He started to lose feeling, the thing at his legs held him still. He could only feel the weight of the gun and it coming closer, his finger twitching on the trigger. His eyelids taking him in and out, in and out, his breathe wheezing as he started to feel ethereal.

A brief flash lit up the garage, a tight popping and it went quiet again.

0

GS2 Chapter 13 ‘Le Samourai’

Hola senors and senorita, what’s a lack of accent marks between pals huh?

Facebook ban lifted and I’m ready to spam like a motherfucker haha.

Back to that crazy trolling shit I do until I get banned for another fucking misplaced spongebob meme, oh holy jeebus save us from the offensive spongebob maymays.

Ok so down to business, so what have I been up to, not much, case close. Err been trying to write this lovecraft story but the plan I have was written by my past self and it’s not as structured as my present self would like so I’m spending more time just staring at it than I am actually writing which is good or bad depending on who you ask. I kinda feel like I’m in a rut again or I’m just so confident about Diana being a success I just can’t focus on anything else.

I so want that to be it I can’t help putting all my eggs in that basket even though I know I shouldn’t. I just feel like the time is right, I need this to be it, I need it to be now because of where I want my life to be heading. I need the success and I need the money to be with the people that mean the most to me, to be where I belong and not just have to keep visiting like a stranger.

But all I’m going to be doing today is doing a thorough read through and then cleaning up The One That Came Back to give away to you wonderful people that put up with my bullshit. I just want to get it in the best state possible, so I’m going through it with a fine tooth comb for the edits and then I’m going to probably go over it again just to be sure and then I’ll send it out I think at the beginning of next month.

I have nothing more to say, peace out my dudes.

As always you can check out the other chapters of this story and all my others on inkitt.

GS2

~

“Omfg, I’m so sick of waiting around here!” Kat said to no one in particular pacing up and down the storefront.

“We’ve been here like an hour”. Roch said, perched on the end of a booth seat in her own little corner of the store.

“Well it feels like forever”

“Why don’t you do like Nita and eat some fucking donuts and sit down.”

“I-don’t-do-carbs” Kat said getting in Roch’s face again. Roch just seethed quietly and turned her head.

“Do we really have to wait here three days?”

“Well we wouldn’t have to if Nita didn’t kick up that stink with that asshole in the army navy store.” Roch said.

“It’s not my fault I’m gorgeous, I didn’t asked to be harassed, I didn’t ask to be born a woman.” She called from the kitchen.

Juanita was in back again eating frozen donuts rather loudly in earshot.

“We’ve got no choice, if we go out there with nothing but our pussies in our hands we’ll be torn apart by flesh hungry monsters”. Roch said.

Kat went to the window and peered out through the closed venetian blinds and said “I don’t see anything”.

“That’s because it’s not set to start until tomorrow morning around sunrise.”

“This is so fucking stupid.” She said as she snapped her fingers away from the venetian blinds and started to pace again. “Only a fucking old white guy could come up with some fucked up shit like this!”

“Yeah that’s why we’re here, trying to stop it, right?” Roch said.

She frowned, “Y’all white people wanna kill eachother with the fucking living dead why do I care?”

“Then why are you here?” Roch said.

“I’m starting to wonder that myself” She said as she started to pace up and down again.

“Can you like stop fucking pacing, you’re driving me crazy!” Roch shouted.

“Don’t you micro-agress against me” Juanita said from the kitchen.

“What?”

“You can’t say ‘crazy’, you know I’ve got ptsd, it’s ableist to stigmatise the mentally ill.”

“She has ptsd?” Kat whispered.

Roch rolled her eyes and said “From people calling her fat on twitter”.

“Have you been to a doctor?” Kat called out.

“I’m self diagnosed, I don’t need a doctor to tell me I have ptsd, I know my own body better than any doctor.”

“O-k then.”

Jaclyn was half asleep leaning on restaurant table in front of her laptop. Sliding off from time to time and waking herself up and then going back to sleep again.

Her laptop was open and another call came through marked as ‘Urgent’. She wiped drool off her face and almost fell off her seat trying to answer the call.

She clicked it on and said “Hell-“ But was knocked right off by Juanita barrelling back into her seat.

“Hey Maccy sweety, what it do?”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

The manlet with the hipster haircut, cleared his throat and said “I’ve got some urgent news non-gender conforming people like entities.” He cleared his throat and went on. “I’ve got some disturbing chatter from my guy on the inside.”

“What is it?” Jaclyn said trying to get in shot, quickly bounced out again by Juanita’s girth.

He made that sucking tutting noise for effect and said “I think they’re onto us.”

“What do you mean, are they coming for us?”

“Eergh, in a way.” Ergh in a way.

“What are you talking about” Roch interrupted, leaning over Janita to be in shot of the webcam. Juanita put her chubby hand on her face and pushed her back after an uncomfortable struggle with lots of fishhooking.

“Yeah what dya mean, are we in danger?” She said as she flicked a quaff of green hair out of her fat face.

“No, well, maybe.” He made that sucking noise again as a full stop.

“Spit it out already” Kat said over Juanita’s shoulder.

“Well, they’ve upped their time frame.”

“What?”

“Well I didn’t think this was even a possibility.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“They’re making the drop in a couple of hours, the three day time frame is bust.” He made a noise in his throat and said “They’re rushing the end game.”

“How could they know we’re here, we were so careful to cover our signal. We bounced it around all over, the money we paid to get in was crowdfunded, there was no way it could be tied back to you.” Jaclyn shouted from off screen.

“I don’t know, my guy couldn’t tell me anymore.” He paused again and swallowed. “Ergh but it doesn’t change the plan, it just excelerates it by two days. They couldn’t have changed the drop locations on such short notice. You have all the intel you need, just be in the right place at the right time and you should be golden.”

“Hey you see, you don’t need to wait around anymore” Roch said in the background to Kat.

“Great and twisted abortions of science are gonna rain down from the sky.” She replied sarcastically.

“Since when were you anti-abortion” Roch responded.

“Fuck you.”

He coughed and Juanita was about to say something and he cut back “What about the prototype?”

“We shocked it and reattached the head but it didn’t seem to work, it probably needs more time.” Jaclyn elbow said meekly in the corner of the screen. Juanita scoffed and vacated her seat and Jaclyn sat back down in full view of the webcam.

“Have you tried turning it off and on again?” Mac said.

“Actually no” She said ditzilly.

–

“I can’t.” TJ’s voice rattled in his throat, a wet sucking feeling down deep in his esophagus.

She looked up at him, her eyes hollow, her skin looked cold and damp like a corpse and her face was tired. The look of an old nag with a broken hoof preying for a quick death from a merciful shot from a kindly gun.

She couldn’t talk anymore, her lips were frozen, her tongue growing fat in her mouth, her head spinning. She hung it forward like she couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore. Revealing to TJ; her kaishaku, a perfect strip of white flesh at the back of her neck. A smell hit TJ, that beautiful fresh earthy smell, now it smelled like a little damp got in, a little rot.

No, this had to be a dream, a dream within a dream. A sick fantasy from a tight fisted lonely jacker, Japanese love pillow fucker. This couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be her neck calling out for the flash of a naked blade. ‘Lift my burden TJ’, the neck said.

Seemingly an eternity had passed and Jimmy hated eternities so he wound up to bat shrieking “Fuck it! I’ll do it if your bitch ass aint man enou-“.

A lighting bolt hit the room, a white hot flash of cold steel making every ear ring. Jimmy stood frozen, a victim of a paparazzi bulb, the harsh gaze of a cameras eye, a deer in headlights. His eyes sewn together by the point of an elegant blade poking it’s nose between them.

The point of the blade close enough to pick the hairs off Jimmy’s eyebrows. TJ stood, tall, not looking in Jimmy’s direction, the long arm of the blade in his one hand, straight and tight and lean pointing right between Jimmy’s eyes.

“Ok, ok” Jimmy said as he backed off.

He took the sword in both hands and closed his eyes and when he did he could hear them. The things on the outside and the slow building flames like rushing waves of a hungry ocean.

He took a deep breath in and he tried to find her there, try to find her alive and well. A smile maybe, a laugh, something he could hold onto but there was nothing, just pure cool emptiness.

–

A little girl’s laugh floated on cooling corpses in a long hallway on the second floor of the cop shop.

A thin hand with dirty nails snatched a back up boot knife out of a kydex sheathe on one of the dead cops. Disappearing it up the sleeve of an old green army jacket like a magic trick. He padded the corpse down and found a spyderco edc folder, an old endura two possibly, full serrated edge. He pocketed it.

There was glass on the floor. But he already found a set of boots that fit since there was an ample selection of boots just lying around. Some filled with blood, others not.

Carpenter picked out a nice long shard of glass and wrapped shreds of a curtain around it to make a handle. Wrapping it around the shard and his own hand to make a tight reverse grip, feeling like he grew a ragged claw, a dirty serrated iceaxe.

“He went this way” The little girl whispered.

It was quieter now, a graveyard waiting quiet, like the eye of a tornado, chaos waiting for it’s turn in some cosmic jrpg. He rounded a corner and saw a heavy metal door open ajar. The word ‘Morgue’ written on the sign outside. It creaked open a little, being coy but he’d seen that shit before and the darkness coiled behind it could tell.

“I see you” He said.

A burst of white, the thing crashed through the heavy door launching at Carpenter like a quarterback with a firework covered in hot sauce up his ass. It was on him, numb jaws snapping behind a fabric mask. A giant white rabbit took Carpenter clear of his feet and was humping him feverishly with no bite, no claws, no teeth. All encased in soft cuddly fur, turning this mauling into little more than the exuberant greeting from a cuddly toy.

He smiled pushing its soft flailing limbs away from his face and burying the shard of glass deep in it’s big padded eye. Snapping it off a few inches in he felt scraping bone but no joy. He flipped it’s limp frame off of him.

He got to his feet and delivered a satisfying kick to its plush underbelly. The white rabbit moaned, almost human and started to crawl to the window at the end of the hall. Carpenter looked out the window, and back at the white rabbit as it limped down the hall.

“What, you lose your nerve?”

Fast fumbled padded steps, the rushing and scraping of hungry fur, before he knew it he was neck deep in the shit. They were all over him, a tucan’s soft beak pecking at him. Soft claws and paws padding him all over, plush jaws biting with no purchase. It was kind of funny, kind of disorientating, hard to believe even in some stoners wet dream. It took him a few seconds to even capture what was happening but by then it was too late, they were on him. A fat elephant, a muscular tiger, cartoon plush humanoid animals crushing him. Piling on top of him cutting off his air, his vision covered in fur, felt like he was drowning in it, buried in it. Six feet under and some god with a sick sense of humour was tossing shovels full of furbies on top of him.

It was hot, there was no air, just paws and huge cartoony eyes and fake multi-coloured hipster haircuts. A nazi werewolf trying to skull fuck him. His muscles slackening in sure disbelief, surrendering to the grave in pure irony. To die like this was too hilarious to turn down. His eyes rolling back in his head, lids getting heavier. The muscles in his ribs getting weak, lungs wanted to collapse, why not let them, give them a rest, they deserve it.

“Follow the white rabbit” Laura’s voice said.

A bolt of lighting shot through his muscles. The waking pistons of a train engine pounding hot and heavy. An opening in the fur calling him out, he saw that fucking white furry bastard at the end of the hall in front of the window.

Before he knew it, carried by angels wings and devils’s farts he was slipping the furry rainbow noose. Their grips had no nails, their jaws of death had no teeth, death’s scythe was a toy that couldn’t cut a microwaved banana. He was swimming through fur, slick with sweat and grease and blood, sucking it in. Slipping through a crack in space and time, lunging like a dog chasing a car at the white rabbit shape in front of him. A white hot headlight of a subway train car rushing at him, hearing only the blood in his ears rushing. Telling him to strike and to fly and to kill and to cut.

He lunged through that fucking rabbit both flying through that second story window. Glass popping out floating like little snowflakes, some song playing. A little Christmassy in the distance and he was gone like saint nick.

–

A snipping of a stem, a green rose falling softly on a concrete floor. TJ, the gardener frozen in a state of morbid elation, synapses firing all over his body. His blood rushing to all points charged, electrified, his heart pumping he was sure was audible to the whole room.

It wasn’t like he imagined it, her head flew off and rolled across the floor. Her body fell limp a little blood and a strange liquid leaking out of the hole in her neck.

The head kept rolling until it was stopped by a boot gently pressing down on her porcelain cheek.

The Frenchman closed the garage door behind him and said “Am I interrupting something?”

0

GS2 Chapter 10 ‘Pierrot le Fou’

Wassup my dank homies and homettes.

Chilling out maxing, shooting some b-ball outside of school, you know the usual. Not really been doing much but doing fetch quests on elite dangerous and almost breaking shit and quitting bloodborne haha. I literally hate that game but it hated me first so I feel justified. I’ve never played a game with game design that had more clear disdain for it’s player base, like every level is designed to piss you off and just be a big fuck you to the player.

This coming from someone who has played and completed all the souls games the first two without even needing any co-op, and it was savage as fuck. But I dunno, just playing bloodborne it felt different, it wasn’t as fun, I actually stopped playing DS3 because it was kind of boring despite the fact I made the most OP sunbro miracle knight ever. I could annihilate people in pvp, I could just shoot fucking lighting from my hands like a sith lord, a giant great sword can’t compete with that. But I dunno, the tone and the gameplay of bloodborne just seems much more hateful and less fun and I was sick of grinding through those boring ass chalice dungeons. They’re stupidly hard and boring to look at, I just couldn’t see the point of them. It’s basically just the same dungeon over and over again and the same recycled bosses, just seems like artificial padding in a game that already seems pretty big and padded with difficulty.

Also the ‘Lovecraftian’ themes are stretched unbelievably thin, I mean to a point where you can’t even tell me what’s defined as Lovecraftian anymore, I mean is a giant eye monster lovecraftian, does it have tentacles? It’s much more gothic really and Lovecraft was essentially trying to divert from gothic horror. I would love it if there over Lovercraft themes but I can’t see them, Lovecraftian has just become a label to help sell horror shit to people that haven’t read any Lovecraft.

Speaking of Lovecraft, been cracking on with my own little Lovecraft story and I had some difficulty with it at first, it wasn’t really flowing well and I struggled to meet even a 1k word quota but recently it’s been getting easier because I’ve been breaking down the style a lot more.

It starts thick with the Lovecraft style and then flows into a more noir action story telling thriller style which was what I was going for. I didn’t really want to a Lovecraftian horror story as much as I wanted to do almost like a noir-thriller, superhero story like the Crow. So like a Lovecraftian supernatural revenge thriller, and it’s made the transition quite well, it’s pretty fun to write and it actually really portrays how far I’ve come as a writer because the action shows a lot of restraint a younger me would not have shown.

You can really tell when someone is having too much fun with action and just let’s it run away with its self and it gets self indulgent and slocky and drags down the story. Subtlety and simplicity is the best way, keep it clean and concise and to the point.

Well regardless, it’s fun, I’m kind of just writing it to keep busy and sharp until some bigger inspiration hits me. Waiting for lighting to strike or atleast until I can scrape together enough cash to have DDD edited so I can start sending it to lit agents, which is gonna take even longer now that my editor quit editing, which was nothing to do with me. I guess she just prefers writing eulogies, but she let me off the final bill for TOTCB saving me like seventy quid that I don’t have but I can’t say when she’ll be done with it. So just have to wait and see.

See you…

–

“She’s not infected!” TJ cried

“Ok she’s not infected” Jimmy said, Carpenter forced a laugh and Jimmy said “We can’t deal with this shit now, we need a plan to get out of here.” He paced the room and added “I don’t, I don’t like enclosed spaces”. He swallowed.

TJ got a far away look and tossed spit around his mouth. His eyes and his mouth were a awash with excess fluid as he cradled the seemingly comatose Sunday, her eyes half open.

“My dad” Jimmy’s voice got wobbly and he stopped. “He thought we could hole up in some little bookstore the last time, thought we’d be safe. You know wait for the army or the national guard or the cops, someone, anyone.” He paced up and down and looking at nothing. “But no one came and then all that shit started falling out of the sky and some fucking freak swallowed him whole, like nothing.”

“Hahahahahahaha” Carpenter laughed and said “Daddy issues”

“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, YOU OLD CRAZY FUCK” Jimmy schreeched almost foaming at the mouth.

“Jeezus and I thought I had problems” BJ said.

“I’m ok” A little far away voice said. “TJ, I’m ok” Sunday opened her eyes, they were bloodshot, she was paler than usual, but she looked up at him and propped up a weak smile. She rolled out of his lap into a sitting position putting her hand on her head as she felt the liquid in her brain shifting hitting her like a hangover. “Oww, how long was I out?”

“Hour maybe” Jimmy said pouting, arms folded seething with rage.

“Where are we?” She said looking around.

“The pokey” A hoarse voice said.

“So you found him? Figures he’d be in a place like this” Sunday said looking through the bars at the king in rags himself lying on his bench on his back. “Has a problem with authority”. She said smiling.

Carpenter laughed and said “That’s rich.”

She turned to TJ who seemed to be breathing steady, like he was seeing her rise from the dead again. “So what now?”

“You’re asking me” He scoffed.

“Where’d they take our stuff?”

“Ergh evidence locker most like” BJ piped up again in the cell on the other side.

“Who’s this guy now?” Sunday said still holding her head.

“It’s a long story” TJ flustered.

“No it aint” BJ said.

“Let’s change the subject” TJ said.

“If you say so”. Sunday said.

Sunday rocked forward and took in a deep breath and said “So we get out of here, get our stuff and then move on until that guy calls us again?”

“But how do we get out, dp said Carpenter could help us escape”. TJ said.

“Escape?” Carpenter said almost to himself. “That’s your ‘escape’ right there.” He said laughing nodding at Bobby’s cold corpse, stiff in a puddle of his own blood and brain matter. He laughed, a cold pitiless laugh, the laugh of a pirate skeleton guarding a cursed treasure in a dark dank cave.

Sunday let out a breathy laugh like she got the joke.

“What?” TJ said.

“He’s fucking with us, if he’s here it’s because he wants to be. He’s got a way out he just wants to hear us say ‘pretty please with cherries on top’ isn’t that right old man?”

He said nothing, lying motionless on the bench.

“Look at this guy, does he look like he has any plan? Is Carpenter even his name? Does he remember what he had for breakfast?” Jimmy yelled.

“Mr badman, when are you gonna come and play with me?” The little girl’s voice whined. “If you don’t come out and play the monsters will get you.” She offered her threat but he remained silent. “There’s someone coming”.

–

The funny little Frenchman walked into the lobby of whitefish police department. He was doddering like an a lost old woman in the warmth of the lobby. He approached the counter with the bullet proof glass dropping his duffel bag on the floor smiling.

“Good evening mademoiselle” He said jovially like he was birthday party clown.

Maria didn’t even lift her head to look at the funny man.

He cleared his throat and continued on despite being ignored. “Err yes, I’m in search of a man I believe you may have him here.”

“Visiting hours are over, come back tomorrow.” Maria said out of the side of her mouth without looking up.

The frenchman looked up and through the bullet proof glass on the balls of his feet and came back on his heels and said “Ah qui.” He smiled and said “I’ll be back”.

He picked up his duffel bag and walked back out through the frosted glass front doors.

Maria turned the page of the romance novel she was reading and sighed like she couldn’t believe the night she was having.

Out of nowhere a burning toilet roll hit the bullet proof glass making a dull thudding sound. She jumped out of her skin as the toilet roll rolled on the tiled floor. Fear suddenly boiling into rage as she leapt up from her seat said “Fucking gringo kids!” under her breath. She hurriedly unlocked the office outer door and came out into the lobby. “Fucking little pinche’ sons of bitches!” she said as she stomped out the flames on the toilet roll, her half heels clicking on the tiles. She stomped missing, hitting the edges as the roll moved with her blows, dancing away from her foot taunting her. She got gradually more mad, the toilet roll was light but had an odd weigh to it and her anger didn’t help her aim. She squealed as she tried to stamp out the flames. She bit her lip and almost screamed as she lifted her foot above the roll and brought it down with a tight crunch. The force of the blow and the fire disintegrated the roll. A springing clicking noise came out of nowhere as the pressure from the cardboard roll was no longer there. Releasing the firing pin of the grenade inside and launched it into the corner of the room skitting across the tiled floor.

“Oh no” Maria said.

–

0

GS2 Chapter 8 ‘Five Fingers of Death’

Yo,

Gonna keep this short and sweet because I’ve been sending out querys to literary agents all day and I have some leftover fajitas I made calling my name. So quick updates, moving forward a little bit prematurely with The One Who Came Back. I don’t really know what I hope to achieve because I’m really that sure of it and I only have three chapters edited so far and trying to rush my editor seems to be in vein, I’m considering hiring someone else but I’m sort of broke and I can’t find anyone cheaper and she’s a really nice person, I don’t feel like an asshole giving money to.

This is sort of a dry tun I guess for Diana, just scoping out the thriller lit agents, seeding the ground before I unleash that insanity on them. Got all my women centric ones bookmarked because they might get a kick out of a female Dexter, I know I did ha.

Not that it really matters but honestly, have you ever googled literary agents? Like literally 90% of them are women, maybe even more so, it’s ridiculous and the amount that are looking for ‘women centric stories’ or just ‘women’s fiction’ is astonishing and you wonder why so many of the big authors this decade are women *Hmm emoji* haha.

Ranting aside, I’m edging my way out of the completionist funk, just by doing something and hopefully tomorrow I can throw myself into a new project just to get the gears spinning again.

That’s enough for now.

See you…

Five Fingers of Death

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Bobby rummaged around in a large key bang as he entered the station’s jail muttering to himself in the near darkness. Only the orange emergency lights giving off an anaemic glow that lit nothing except the hands in front of his face.

“This is the last straw, he’s lost his fucking mind, fuck. First he’s making me bury bodies in the back lot, now he’s shooting people right in the office, he’s losing it, this is it, this is it!” He panted and took in disjointed slakes of breathes like he was having a panic attack. “Gotta, gotta let you guys out, gotta get out, gotta let you and we can leave this fucking mess!” He screeched.

The back of the cells were in complete darkness. He got closer, the hot nervousness in the back of his throat made his fingers and thumbs thick square blocks of dull round weiner meat. Which made finding the right key near impossible. The jangling of the key bang summoning fits of excited hackles from something akin to a dog.

A shadowed figure uncoiled, a dank smell and a quick fluttering of what seemed like wings and the voice. A hot stinking breath that smelled like raw potatoes and meat said right by his ear “Maybe I wanna be in here.” The voice said. Breath was hot and wet and burning like raw onions on the deputies face. He jumped back, tripping over his own feet and tumbling, the back of his head trying to make out with the corner of a metal desk not ending well.

He lay on the floor twitching, blood and brains spreading like hot homemade jam.

“Oops” Carpenter said as he slipped back away from the bars with a slithering sqeaking noise as his arms retracted into the dark cell.

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