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Monthly Archives: June 2018

Ribbons Of Blood ( Two )

23 Saturday Jun 2018

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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blood, murder, olivetti, typewriter, USA, virginia

In the first part of this story i introduced you to Victor Bradstreet the world renowned writer who was visiting his cabin up in rural Virginia to try to cure a severe case of writers block.

And while getting some supplies from the general store he noticed an old olivetti typewriter gathering dust on a clearance table

Victor bought the old typewriter and took it back to his cabin where the olivetti wrote him a best seller

But Victor got greedy and demanded more and more from the typewriter and the olivetti went on strike refusing to write another word until Victor fed it a meal of his blood.

The final showdown happened on a cold winters day in December 2017.

Victor carried the typewriter outside to his backyard doused it in lighter fluid and set that fucker on fire.

But the olivetti wasn’t ready to die just yet and it got its revenge by wrapping its ink ribbons around Victors throat choking him to death.

 

PART TWO

The CEO of Unicorn Press Penelope Clutterbuck is chairing a meeting at the companies head office in New York.

She is in a good mood because Victors last novel made her company a shitload of money with sales exceeding six million worldwide.

Penelope is just warming up when the phone on her desk starts to ring cutting off her report.

She gives the phone an icy stare just daring it to keep on ringing

Penelope isn’t a happy camper because she told her secretary to hold all calls unless there was a national emergency or the sky was falling

 

‘Excuse me but i need to take this call’ She turns her back on her audience and whispers into the phone’This better be good Sally or your ass is out of here’

‘Sorry Mrs Clutterbuck but i have a Detective Peterson from Virginia on line two who needs to speak with you urdently’

Penelope is a hard nosed divorcee who likes to be charge  and the one thing that she doesn’t like is surprises’why would a detective from Virginia be calling her?’

Then she remembers that Victor is over in Virginia writing his new novel’God i hope that Victor is alright i cant afford to lose my cash cow.

 

She takes a seat and presses line two ‘Hello Mrs Clutterbuck this is detective Peterson from Springwood Virginia and i am sorry to tell you but i have some bad news’

I am here at Victors cabin just outside of town and well it looks like an intruder broke in and murdered Victor in cold blood’

Penelope cant believe what she is hearing,Victor her biggest seller and largest earner is dead.

God detective this is quite a shock i was only talking to Victor a couple of days ago i cant believe that he is gone,murder you say?

‘Yes we are have a murderer on our hands i am afraid,we have informed his daughter about her fathers death and she didn’t take the news well’

‘If you of any body who would want to harm Victor could you please let me know,i have left my number with your secretary’

 

When Penelope hangs up she doesn’t give a single thought about Victors grieving daughter.

As usual all she thinks about herself and Unicorn Presses bottom line.

She knows that she will have to travel to Virginia right away before  the daughter has a chance to get her hands on a manuscript finished or not.

‘Sally please tell Calvin to bring the limo around out front i am flying to Virginia on the next flight,Victor has been murdered and i need to be there’

 

Penelope always has a bag packed in her office in case of emergency and what could be more dire then losing future earnings to a meddling daughter.

An hour later her limo arrives at JFK Airport and Penelope boards a flight to Arlington Virginia.

Then after a ten hour flight she reaches Arlington and hires a car and drives for an hour until she reaches Victors cabin.

And after making sure that her hair and makeup is correct for a woman of her stature she walks up the steps and knocks on the front door.

 

The door is opened by a uniformed cop who gives Penelope the once over’Sorry but no reporters are allowed in here the detectives will release a media statement later in the day’Excuse me young man but do i look like a reporter?My name is Penelope Clutterbuck and i am here to meet Detective Peterson.’Sorry lady i will see if he is available’

 

Detective Peterson soon arrives’Mrs Clutterbuck i didn’t expect to see you here’Sorry detective but i was deeply saddened when you told me that Victor was murdered so i grabbed the first flight available to see if i could help’

When she is escorted inside Penelope is surprised by the amount of blood that is sprayed all over the living room’Please Mrs Clutterbuck don’t touch anything this is still a crime scene’

‘Just have a look around and tell me if you see anything missing or out of place’

I have only been here twice before but if i see anything amiss i will surely let you know’

 

As she is escorted from room to room Penelope’s beady eyes scan the room like a piranha hungry for blood

It would be nice to discover a manuscript all boxed up and addressed to her but Penelope knows that that is wishful thinking

Then when Penelope and Detective Peterson enter the kitchen Penelope is surprised to see a typewriter sitting on the table.

Victor was up to date with all the latest apps and technology so why would he need a typewriter?

 

The olivetti senses movement nearby as it sits on the table acting all sweet and innocent like butter wouldn’t melt in its mouth.

Its ink ribbons quiver with anticipation it has been two days since it fed on Victors blood.

And now it is ready to feed again.

 

Before the olivetti had its first taste of blood it survived on the words that were typed onto its ribbons.

Nouns verbs objectives upper or lower case the typewriter didnt really care it swallowed them all.

But that all changed in 1974 a few after it came off the production line.

 

Twenty year old Samual Montford a budding writer took the typewriter home to begin his first novel.

His fingers flew over the keys and the words flowed with abandon.

Three chapters in only two hours was beyond Samuel’s wildest dreams.

But around dinner time he was pushing the letters a little too hard and gave himself a paper cut.

And as his blood dripped into the mechanism of the olivetti a beast living inside was awoken.

 

Over the years the typewriter killed and devoured ten unsuspecting budding novelists without leaving a trace.

But now with the advances in technology the olivetti was pushed aside as computers took over.

For over twenty years it sat on the shelf eating nothing but dust motes and the occasional cockroach or mouse.

 

Now the typewriter has emerged from its forced hibernation and has had its first solid meal for a long time.

Victors blood has given the machine a new lease on life and now it needs another meal and it wants it now

 

Penelope has no idea that Victors murderer is sitting only five foot away from where she is standing.

All she wants is to find a manuscript and go home

‘Excuse me Mrs Clutterbuck ‘Detective Peterson says’But Victors daughter will be arriving soon would you like to stay  and talk to her?

The last thing that Penelope wants is to talk to Abigail Bradstreet so she declines the invitation and leaves the cabin empty handed.

 

A month after Victors murder Penelope is working late in her office doing the books and crunching the numbers.

Her company is doing well at  the moment but what Penelope really wants is another best seller.

She hasn’t had a good nights sleep since Victors death.

Not knowing if Victor has written a manuscript and left it somewhere in his cabin has been driving her crazy so she decides that another trip to Virginia will give her some peace of mind.

She phones Detective Peterson and he tells her that they have no suspects at the moment and that while Victors murder is still being investigated it has been put on the back burner until new leads develope

 

Penelope smiles at the news because now she is confident that no police officers will be present at the cabin so she will be able to take her time and search the cabin from ceiling to floor.

 

A few days later Penelope arrives at Victors cabin to find it locked and the front door covered in police tape.

Penelope walks around the house looking for a way inside but all the windows are locked up tight.

So in frustration Penelope picks up a rock and smashes a side window then with a final glance to make sure she hasn’t been heard she climbs inside.

 

After an hour of searching the cabin from top to toe Penelope is growing more and more frustrated.

Surely Victor wrote something before his demise but where could it be?

It would be nice to find a finished manuscript and give his fans one last novel.

But more importantly it would earn Penelope and Unicorn Press millions of dollars.

 

Penelope enters the kitchen to get a glass of water and notices that the old typewriter is still sitting on the kitchen table.

She still cant understand why Victor would own an ancient olivetti.

But at the same time Penelope is strangely attracted to the machine.

‘I wonder if all the keys still work’muses Penelope’If they do i will take the typewriter home and put it in my den’

So she feeds in a sheet of paper to test out the old contraption.

But before she can press a key

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

 

‘What in the fuck?’ Penelope jumps back in fright as the typewriter begins to type words.

And even though Penelope is scared out of her wits she is desperate to know what the olivetti has typed’Do you want to make a lot of money Penelope? Feed me and i will make you a millionaire ten times over’

‘I will write your debut novel and make you a star’

 

Penelope is spellbound as she reads what is written on the page.

She knows that she really should run away as fast as she can and tell the police about her discovery.

But at the same time who doesn’t want to be a star?

So Penelope types’OK i will take up your offer write me the first chapter and if i like what i read we have a deal’

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

 

Ha ha ha good one Penelope but i survived on nothing but dust and rodents until i tasted Victors blood and now i need another meal’

‘So feed me your blood Penelope and i will write you a masterpiece’

As Penelope reads the words she now knows that she is in deep shit and turns to run.

But her ship has already sailed and she didn’t buy a ticket.

She screams out and almost makes it to the kitchen door when the ink ribbons fly out and wrap around her throat and Penelope is reeled in like a flounder.

 

The ribbons around her neck squeeze tighter and tighter and Penelope fights desperately to save her life but she quickly loses the battle.

The typewriter chews on Penelope’s blood meat and bones until it is sated.

 

For a week the typewriter feeds on Penelope’s body and its ribbons scour the kitchen floor picking up every morsel and mop up every drop of blood until there is nothing left

 

At her home in Colorado Victors daughter Abigail is still recovering from the death of her father.

But the time has come to settle her fathers affairs and get on with her life .

So she climbs into her Corolla and drives towards her dads cabin in Virginia.

 

When she arrives she is surprised to see a car parked out front.

She calls out and when she doesn’t get an answer she pulls aside the police tape and enters the cabin.

She notices the broken window and a rock on the floor and again calls out but no one answers so Abigail has a look around.

The cabin looks neat and tidy and the TV  and stereo are still in place so Abigail relaxes  and after using the bathroom she enters the kitchen and is surprised to see a shiny typewriter on the table.

 

She takes a step forward to get a closer look and can’t believe how spick and span the old typewriter.

It is almost like it has had a transfusion.

Abigail takes a seat and admires the trusty old machine but then she thinks to herself’Why would my father own a typewriter in this day and age?

 

Abigail turns to go back to her car to get some packing boxes when

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

Abigail almost pees her pants when she reads

HELLO ABIGAIL

 

 

THE END

Part three is coming soon so don’t buy a typewriter at any yard sales’

You have been warned.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories now if you could think about making a donation so i can realize my dream of becoming a fulltime writer , Thanks again Steven.

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Chokka Blokka Quokka

02 Saturday Jun 2018

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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cartman, hot chips, junk food, quokka, rottnest island, selfie, temptation, western australia

The following story is about a quokka who has a liking for junk food.

Eighteen kilometres off the coast of Freemantle WA is a small island named Rottnest.

Rottnest is known for its white sandy beaches and relaxed lifestyle.

But the islands main claim to fame is the quokka who has been described as the ‘happiest animal on earth’

Normally only about 150 people call Rottnest home but in peak tourist season that number can swell to 15,000 or more.

Which is good for the western australian governments tourism dollar.

But not so good for the quokka.

Deep in the hinterland a mob of quokka’s are minding their own business digging in the dirt searching for roots and grubs.

Amongst the mob live a family of four mum and dad plus their two sons Mokka and Bokka.

They are just loafing around enjoying the sun while they digest their greens when they are confronted by an old grey kangaroo ‘Why don’t you all go to the coast and check out the action?’

There are a lot of tourists there who like to feed all the native animals’

Mr and Mrs quokka have heard about the tourists,but there is plenty of food right outside their front door.

So why travel all the way to the coast?

But the kangaroo is very persuasive and Mokka and Bokka are excited about seeing the beach for the first time.

So the family of quokka’s pack their bags and head off for an adventure to the coast.

After three days of trekking through rainforests and dangerous terrain the quokka’s arrive on the coast sweaty and exhausted.

They cant believe how many people are out and about so they huddle together beneath a park bench while they catch their breath.

They notice other quokka’s running among the tourists and they seem friendly enough.

So Mokka works up some courage and walks toward a lone tourist while his shy brother stays behind with his parents.

‘Be careful Mokka ‘his father calls out’It is a dangerous place out here’

But Mokka isn’t listening he is busy checking out the sites.

He jumps and hops all the way to the waters edge.

He dips his paw in the water and does a little dance of joy.

Mokka waves to his family to come and join him but they are still wary of all the hustle and bustle.’Come on Bokka the water is fine you will love it’

But Bokka looks away and hides behind his parents.

But someone is interested in getting to know Mokka a tourist has followed him onto the sand’Come here little quokka and give me a selfie and i will give you a hot chip’

Mokka doesn’t know what a hot chip is but it does sound mighty tasty so he climbs onto the lap of the tourist and is told to cheese.

Mokka doesnt know cheese is either but he smiles for the lady and is given his reward.

He holds the little morsel in both paws and has a little taste’Yum not bad but it could do with a little salt’ so Mokka dips the chip into the ocean and swallows it down in one bite.

And with that first bite Mokka gets a taste for junk food.

He runs back to his family to give them the good news but they don’t want to know.

His father offers him a juicy leaf to munch on but Mokka has had a taste for the good life and he wants some more.

Later that night after his family has fallen asleep Mokka sneaks away for some more fun and adventure.

He smells the air like a dog hoping to pick up the scent of  hot chips and he follows his nose to a rubbish bin one hundred metres away.

Mokka dives right in and demolishes chip after chip until he cant eat no more.

He lays on the grass digesting his meal Mokka is as happy as a quokka can be.

Over the following weeks Mokka wanders the streets looking for hand outs from the tourists or going through the bins looking for scraps.

It is now over six weeks since Mokka has seen his family and he doesn’t really miss them because he is too busy cultivating his new lifestyle.

He is scratching his ever expanding belly while chewing on a dim sim when he is approached by another tourist’Excuse me but are you a quokka?

Mokka looks at the holiday maker like he is a complete idiot’Sorry i didn’t mean to offend you but i thought that quokka’s were small you look more like a wombat’

Mokka mutters a few choice words  that would make his mothers hair curl and the bewildered tourist wanders off.

Not only is Mokka the same size and shape as Eric Cartman he also has the temper to match.

Three hours later Mokka is slouching along feeling sorry for himself when he notices a fresh golden chip sitting in the middle of the boardwalk twenty metres away.

His eyes light up and he sprints as fast as his growing body will take him.

Squawk squawk squawk Mokka looks up to see a seagull swooping down toward the chip

‘I am telling you now Mr fucking Steven Seagull but there is nothing on this earth faster then me when it comes to taking down a hot chip’

Mokka and the seagull collide in mid air and for a moment time stands still.

The seagull claws and pecks Mokka until he starts to bleed

Mokka is struggling to stay in the fight and the seagull goes in for the killer blow.

But with the power of ten quokka’s Mokka stands his ground,grabs the seagull by the balls and squeezes tight.

And with a high pitched squawk the seagull flies away tender and defeated.

Meanwhile Mr and Mrs quokka have set up camp five hundred metres inland while they wait for their wayward son to come to his senses and return to his family.

Bokka can his his parents distress so he makes his way toward the coast.

He is determined to bring his brother back he will carry him if he has to.

But when he arrives at the beach Bokka knows that he wont be carrying Mokka anywhere without a block and tackle.

Mokka is now so big he is barely recognisable as a quokka.

Mokka is laying on his back surrounded by empty pizza boxes and fast food wrappers.

In his hand he holds a sign that reads’Will give selfies for food’

As he looks at his brother Bokka can feel his blood beginning to boil.

He scares off the tourists grabs hold of the sign and rips it into a thousand pieces.

Mokka knows that he is in bad shape.

But he  would do anything for a taste of sugar salt and saturated fats.

His eyes mist over as he watches Bokka fighting off the tourists carrying tasty treats.

‘Why is it that everything that is bad for you can taste so damn good?”

For over a week Bokka doesn’t leave his brothers side

He hand feeds Mokka fresh leaves and grass.

Everything that a quokka needs to stay fit and healthy.

Thanks to his brothers help Mokka is now back to his normal self.

He has returned home to his family deep in the heart of Rottnest.

And is enjoying life far away from temptation.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you could please think about making a donation so that i can realize my dream and become a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE END

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