Monthly Archives: January 2018

Ribbons Of Blood

26 Friday Jan 2018

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This is a story about writers block and a killer typewriter.Enjoy

Everyone has heard of Victor Bradstreet,a multiple award winning author of crime and suspense novels.

He has been the master of the genre for over 25 years with over 100 million books in publication.

Eight of his novels have been adopted to the silver screen with ‘Death Before Awakening’ winning an oscar.

But that was four years ago.

Today Victor is sitting at his desk in his private hideaway in Springwood Virginia the perfect spot to get away from it all and write.

But Victor hasn’t written a word in months,he went to Virginia to try and cure a bad case of writers block,but so far it hasn’t worked.

He thought that going up there from L.A would give him some inspiration,but all he has achieved since arriving is sit around full of self pity while drinking  bottle after bottle of the finest bourbon.

As he takes a long pull from a glass of the amber liquid Victor sighs in desperation and despair.

Since he started writing when he was a teenager he has never had any trouble writing,usually his fingers fly over the keyboard as his thoughts turn into words.

Victor doesn’t know what he has to do to defeat his writers block ,so  he sits at his desk as the day turns into night.

At midnight after polishing off another yet another bottle Victor staggers to his feet and goes to bed.

In the morning Victor wakes up with a huge hangover his head is throbbing and his stomach churns threatening to bring up its contents.

He stumbles out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom and as he stands there emptying his bladder he pears at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and he doesn’t like what he sees.

Victor is a proud man and has always tried to look his best but now as he looks at himself in the mirror an old man looks back at him.

Victor knows that he has  been drinking too much because of his inability to write,he looks at the old man and mutters ‘Where have all the words gone?’

Around lunchtime Victor decides to drive into town to pick up some supplies,anything to get away from the confines of the cabin and get some fresh air.

So he jumps into his BMW puts on his seat belt and listens to Tom Petty sing ‘Free Falling’ on the radio,and for a few minutes Victor forgets all about his writers block as he sings along.

But when the song is over he remembers an email he received from his publisher about a week before he drove up to Virginia’Dear Mr Bradstreet,this is your final reminder about  the manuscript for your new novel that is now six months overdue.If said manuscript isn’t delivered to our office within 30 days you will be in breach of contract.

Therefore we will begin legal proceedings to recover the five million dollar advance we paid you’

As Victor continues to drive his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel,he has earned his publishers a lot of money and they threaten to sue him?.

Maybe he should send the advance back to the ungrateful assholes and retire down to New Zealand or Australia.

But no goddamn it i am a writer and i need to write so i will write again.Fuck em.

When he arrives at his destination he enters the general store where he is greeted by the owner.a friendly old man named Albert Finnegan.

Victor and Albert exchange greetings in passing as Victor picks up a basket and wanders the aisles picking up essentials like milk bread cheese and of course a few bottles of bourbon.

As he places some canned beans and pork into his basket an object in the corner of the store catches his eye.

Sitting on a rickety old table gathering dust is a beat up old olivetti typewriter vintage 1070 or so.

Victor rubs his hands over the machine like a teenager in lust,he has to have this typewriter and he will have it.’Hey Albert do you have any paper for this old olivetti?

‘Sure do Mr Bradstreet,i will throw in ten reams for nothing if you take that thing off my hands’

Something in Alberts voice concerns Victor and he looks over at the old man behind the counter but he seems to be okay.

For a moment there it sounded to Victor that Albert was almost afraid of the dusty old typewriter.

At home Victor packs away his groceries and goes back outside retrieve the olivetti from his BMW.

He opens the rear door bends down to pick up the typewriter but it isn’t there,Victor scratches his head he could have sworn that he put it on the back seat,maybe he left it back at the store?

Then he notices the typewriter sitting loud and proud on the front seat,how can a typewriter change seats?

Then Victors skin crawls as he takes a closer look not only has the olivetti changed seats but it has transformed.

It is no longer an old beat up dust covered machine,now the typewriter is shiny and gleaming like it was made in the factory last week.

With some trepidation Victor carries the typewriter inside and places it in the middle of the kitchen table.

Then he opens a ream of paper and feeds a sheet into his new typewriter and types a title that has haunted him for months’Graves Of Murder’.He pours himself a drink and settles down to write his new novel.

But after an hour not a single word has been typed,Victor empties his glass then throws it at the wall where it explodes in smithereens.

Victor wails at the moon than he hangs his head and starts to cry.

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

Victor looks up in surprise as the keys on the typewriter  go up and down of their own accord,typing at about 100 words a minute.

Victor looks on in wonder and feeds page after page into the machine as it continues to type for the next three hours.

When the olivetti stops typing Victor pulls out the final page he gathers the manuscript together and starts to read’Holy shit! This is good,it is some of my better work’

‘I haven’t written this good in years’

Victor sends the manuscript off to his publisher and a week later he received a reply

‘Congratulations Victor ‘Graves Of Murder is your best novel to date and it is sure to top the bestseller list from coast to coast.

We here at crondon press were worried there for a while but now i can see that our worries were unfounded because you you are back with a venegeance,look forward to your next novel

Victor beams with pride and looks over at the typewriter.

And the typewriter looks back.

‘Graves Of Murder’ is published to instant acclaim world wide.

Victor does the talk show circuit where he soaks up all the praise and applause.

No way will he retire,now that he is on top of the game again,he can’t wait to get back to his hideaway so that his olivetti can type him another best seller.

When he arrives back at his cabin the first thing he does is feed a sheet of paper into the olivetti,he types in the title Dead Forever’ than he runs upstairs for a qick shower and a change of clothes.

But as he walks downstairs after freshening up he is instantly hit by the sound of silence,he enters the kitchen where he unleashes on the machine’Come on you fucker write  me another best seller and write it now mister or there will be hell to pay’

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

‘Why you ungrateful piece of shit,I have turned your life around you are on the best sellers lists all over the world and all you do is abuse me and threaten my existence’

‘Because i am telling you now that unless you feed me and treat be kindly only one of us  will survive and it wont be you’

‘So shut the fuck up and feed me feed me now’

Victor leans forward and types’Feed you what?

kerclack  kerclack kerclack kerclack

‘Feed me your blood right here and now or i can guarantee that you die a horrible slow death’

Victor reads the words with horror Who does this fucking typewriter think it is.I am the master in this relationship’

But he is desperate to remain on the best seller list so he grabs a knife and pricks his little finger and watches as his blood drips onto the typewriter ribbons.

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

What the fuck? I don’t want a snack i want the main course so give me a good feed or face the consequences’

Victor takes a deep breath rolls up and sleeve and opens up his left wrist,his blood flows into the olivetti and is swallowed down and in swallowed down with satisfaction.

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp

Victor feels himself going into shock as he listens to the typewriter digest his blood.

The cut on his wrist is deep but not life threatening,he opens the first aid kit and applies a pressure bandage.

And his blood ceases to flow.

Victor is scared as he eyes the evil typewriter he likes being a great writer again and achieving worldwide fame.

But he doesn’t want to die to satisfy the thirst of a olivetti,so he decides that he will ditch the typewriter and go back to writing the old fashioned way.

So he sneaks up behind the typewriter and carries it out to the backyard where he throws it to the ground.

He goes to the shed and returns with a can of lighter fluid,he sprays the typewriter and sets it alight.

‘Burn olivetti burn’

Victor goes back inside glad that he is now free from that blood sucking typewriter,he pours himself a large bourbon to celebrate and settles down to write.

With his favourite mont blanc fountain pen in hand and a calfskin pad in his lap Victor is confident that the words will soon fill the page.

But after hours of willing and pleading to his pen to start writing another best seller nothing is written not even a title.fVictor enters the kitchen to make himself something to eat and to occupy his mind  for a while.

And as he cleans up the cant help but to notice the smouldering typewriter out in the yard.

Part of him wants to run out and put out the fire,but instead he goes upstairs brushes his teeth and retires for the night.

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

Victor wakes up so fast he almost bounced out of bed

Was that really the sound of a typewriter that woke him up? He puts on his dressing gown and creeps down the stairs in dread.

The smell of burnt metal hits his nostrils like a sledgehammer and the back door is wide open.

He peaks around the kitchen door frame and his eyes open wide in terror because sitting in the middle of the kitchen table sits a burnt twisted hunk of metal.

One look is all that Victor needs he grabs his car keys from a side table and races toward the back door and he is only a few feet from freedom when his airways are blocked off.

The olivetti  seeing Victor trying to escape throws out its blood soaked ribbons like a fisherman casting his net.

The ribbons from hell wrap around Victors throat and pull him in foot by foot.

Victor struggles as hard as he can,but he can’t himself being pulled back toward the murderous typewriter.

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

‘I warned you Victor but you chose to disobey me,so now you can go to hell and burn for eternity like you burnt me’

Victor no longer has the strength to resist the typewriter and now he stands near the machine as the ribbons squeeze tighter and tighter.

Then with a final show of power the ribbons tighten like a vice and Victors head is separated from his body and lands on the thirsty typewriter where his blood satisfies the hungry olivetti.

After its meal the typewriter sits on the kitchen table savouring the blood while it waits for the police to arrive.

And even out here they surely will even if it takes a week.

The flies will make sure of that

THE END

I hope you enjoyed my story and don’t mind waiting awhile because part two Tie A Red Ribbon’ is coming soon and please if you can make a donation so that i can realize my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Albuquerque Turkey

13 Saturday Jan 2018

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Over in Albuquerque new mexico there is tension in the air.

People walk the streets in trepidation because they sense that something is going down.

Nobody knows who how or why.

But there is one thing for certain feathers are about to fly.

 

If you travel south from Albuquerque the suburbs gradually give way to agriculture and you will arrive at a small town named los lunas.

The area is dotted with apple groves and peach orchards but los lunas is mainly known for its turkey farms and processing plants.

Where they process over 500,000 birds everyday.

But for the people in and around Albuquerque there will soon be hell to pay

 

gobble gobble gobble

 

In an isolated turkey farm a female bird is sitting near the perimeter fence crying and shaking in distress.

All of her friends have disappeared one by one and she hasn’t got a clue where they have gone or why they haven’t come back.

Then she hears a scratching sound from the woodland near a dusty trail.

She looks up as a male turkey steps into view and he is looking in her direction.

He wanders over for a gander and to see what all the crying is about.

The female is sitting all lonely weeping and sobbing in the dirt.

While the male walks a little closer and by the way his name is Bert.

 

gobble gobble gobble

 

The female who is named Hilda is shy at first but she soon opens up and tells the male turkey about her friends who have vanished.

She tells him how her friends were all loaded onto trucks and driven away to god knows where.

As the female turkey continues to talk( they tend to do this a lot) Bert gets a funny feeling beneath his skin.

And it isn’t from the stuffing or constant basting.

He needs to get to the bottom of this right now and time is wasting.

 

Bert knows that the trucks hold the answer to the vanishing turkeys.

Maybe the turkeys have just gone on a day trip or are visiting relatives in California?

But than again why don’t they ever come back?

He reaches out a wing towards the fence to pat Hilda goodbye when he blown back twenty foot.

He tumbles head over parsons nose and lands with a heavy thud.

Hilda calls out ‘Sorry I forgot to tell you that the fence is electrified.’ Bert cant answer because he has been roasted baked and totally fucking fried.

 

gobble gobble gobble

 

But Bert is made from giblets of steel so he just shakes his drumsticks and slowly gets to his feet.

His wattle and snood turn red in anger and defiance and smoke appears from beneath his tail feathers.

With a wave to Hilda he waddles off towards his home in Arizona and as he walks he keeps an eye out for a wily coyote.

When he gets home he will report back to his boss colonel guajolote.

 

Colonel guajolote is the biggest meanest turkey in the while mid west.

He stands four foot tall with a body scarred from many fights and battles.

The colonel also sports a patch over his left eye from sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong.

At the moment he is annoyed after been awoken from his midday slumber but he listens intently as Bert his messenger tells him about the goings on over in Albuquerque.

His snood has turned deep purple and his wattle bobbles around performing a little war dance.

He silences Bert with a deadly stare as he gazes in the direction of new mexico.

His enemies will never forget the destruction that he is about to bring.

The fight hasn’t started yet but the bell is about to ring.

 

gobble gobble gobble

 

Early the next morning a band of wild turkeys march off in formation towards the battlefields over near Albuquerque.

They know that they are marching into battle but they are all seasoned veterans.

So the turkeys all moved forward with their chests puffed out and with feathers freshly preened.

The turkeys stick to the back roads and forest tracks as they head west.

These birds aren’t over stuffed or under baked they are the best of the best.

 

When they reach the farm two days later Bert warns colonel guajolote and the other turkeys about the electrified fence.

Their feathers stand on end as static fills the air and they stand at attention waiting for further orders.

Colonel guajolote realises that they can’t go through or under the fence so he will have to come up with a different plan of attack.

Because not only is the colonel big and mean and mighty unclean but he is also the most battle savvy bird in the flock.

To colonel guajolote there is no such thing as a roadblock.

 

gobble gobble gobble

 

The thirty odd turkeys hide in the underbrush as they watch the farm with binoculars.

Every now and then a truck will pull in and leave with a full load of healthy looking birds

Where do they go ?And why don’t they ever return?

Colonel guajolote shakes his head in frustration as he watches the truck drive away.

He is getting too old for this shit all he ever wanted was a loving wife and a field full of corn.

But here he is running around like Jason freaking Bourne.

 

He mightn’t be Jason Bourne but he is still one mean mother plucker.

And he wont rest until he finds the missing turkeys so he tells his warrior turkeys to keep watching the farm.

While he takes a ride on one of the trucks to see where they go to

So when the next truck starts to pull out he jumps up and hitches a ride.

 

When he looks at the turkeys on the truck he notices that they aren’t happy at all.

They are crammed into crates where they cant move eat or drink.

The colonels blood begins to boil as he looks at his fellow turkeys looking all sad and forlorn.

Then the air brakes sound the truck has reached its destination.

The colonels heart burns in his chest with a sinking sensation.

 

gobble gobble gobble

 

Straightaway he smells the stench of blood shit and death and he hangs his head in distress

He now knows why none of the turkeys ever return home.

Soon the crates of turkeys are unloaded by a forklift and disappear inside the factory.

The colonel takes a deep breath as he waddles toward the front door.

The turkeys pain and suffering digs deep in his craw.

 

When he opens the door he has a quick look around then puts on a white coat and a hair net and makes his way over to reception.

The receptionist looks up to see the ugliest man she has ever seen approach the counter.

Hello my name is Gilbert Guajolote from the Albuquerque  Health Board and I am here to inspect the facilities.’

The receptionist checks the appointments for the day”I am sorry but there is nothing here about any inspection today’

The colonel stands up straight and leans over the counter ‘Of course there isn’t so please go and inform the manager that I am here and make it snappy’

The receptionist smiles but she isn’t very happy.

 

gobble gobble gobble

 

A harried looking man soon arrives and is taken aback by the appearance of the inspector,surely he is the ugliest man on the planet.

‘Sorry for the delay my name is Harry Bastingwand please follow me’

Colonel guajolote breathes deep and steps over the threshold.

But the sight before him soon stops him in his tracks.

Hundreds and hundreds of dead featherless turkeys swing above the production line.

The colonel soon recovers and faces his fallen comrades with a quivering beak.

He raises a wing in a heartfelt salute turns on his heels and gets the fuck out of that murderous place.

Tome would surely stop if it saw the look on his face.

 

Once outside the colonel looks up to the heavens and screams a mighty war cry.

It echoes up and down the hills and valleys in new mexico Arizona and some say it was heard in Nevada and down to texas.

All of the wild turkeys in those states look to the sky and listen to the call to arms from the head of all turkeys.

A cry for freedom from down near Albuquerque.

 

gobble gobble gobble

 

Colonel guajolote is in a rage as he continues to scream for help.

But he is afraid that his cries might not be heard by all of his allies so he climbs to the summit of the sandia peak tramway and builds himself a huge funeral pyre.

He covers himself in warpaint and dances around the fire until it dies down to embers.

Then he slowly flaps his wings amongst the wisps of smoke.

He flaps and sways until the tendrils of smoke start to form words.

The words are seen by the all of the turkeys in the united states.

Hopefully the turkeys will spring into action before it is too late.

 

Along the width and breadth of north America the words of smoke are seen by over 50 million wild turkeys.

Who soon form themselves into armies of birds,they storm turkey farms and processing plants and set free their captive friends.

 

gobble gobble gobble

 

On the streets of America there is complete and utter chaos

It is almost thanksgiving and all of the TV networks are reporting a shortage this year in fact there are none to be had.

Supermarkets and convenience stores are bombarded by customers trying to keep the tradition alive.

They want turkey and they want it now but all stores have no turkeys this season.

All of the turkeys have escaped and are hiding in the undergrowth away from their tormentors and foes.

 

Colonel guajolote is one satisfied turkey.

He is now old and is enjoying his retirement.

His grandchildren keep him busy but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

He is proud of his achievements  and on thanksgiving every year he raises a glass to all of  the fallen turkeys.

All is well down near Albuquerque.

 

gobble gobble gobble

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can realize my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.