Threads ( Clothes That Kill )

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On the third Sunday of every month.

My local rotary club holds markets to help the community.

So come on down and have a look around.

Something will surely catch your eye.

 

There is a new stall holder this year.

He has set up his wares right out the back.

And he knows that for some he will soon become the main attraction.

Like moths to a flame they will be attracted to his aura.

He sells clothes that are trendy funky and current.

A real killer.

 

The owner of the stall is a man who goes by the name of Albion Lestrange.

He is really old and could easily pass as an Egyptian mummy.

His skin is mottled with age spots and he smells like death warmed up.

But when he smiles people don’t seem to notice.

All they see is a lonely old man trying to make some money on the side.

But Albion Lestrange is a completely different kettle of fish.

He will look you right in the eye as he steals your last breath.

 

He has set up his stall on the edge of Lake Macquarie.

And has surrounded himself with with racks of his killer apparel.

Than Albion sits back and relaxes while he waits for his next victim to approach.

Like a human spider with an invisible web.

 

Kim Watkins is feeling a little bit down.

Her school dance is being held on Saturday night and she has got nothing to wear.

Maybe a walk around the lake will help to cheer her up ?

She is also hoping to find something at the markets.

A pair of ear rings would be nice.

But what she really wants is a little black dress.

 

Albion estrange has been sitting on his easy chair all day.

And he isn’t in a very good mood.

He has sold most of his stock but he is still waiting for that special someone to

approach.

 

He is thinking about packing up and hitting the road.

When from the corner of his eye he notices a teenage girl getting close.

She is still 500 metres away but Albion knows that she is the one.

And he knows exactly what she wants to buy.

So he goes to the back of his van and grabs a little black dress that he has made especially for this occasion.

He puts a reptilian smile on his face and waits.

 

Kim Watkins has wandered from stall to stall and nothing has really caught her eye.

Than she notices a van parked way out the back.

Oh well, there is nothing to lose so walks over to have a look.

And when she gets a bit closer she cant believe her eyes.

Because right there front and centre is just what she needs a little black dress.

This must be her lucky day.

 

Albion Lestrange stands up when the girl reaches his stall.

And asks her what is she looking for?

Even though he already knows.

Kim has that little black hands in her hand and she asks Albion where she can try it on?

 

Albion tells her that he hasn’t a change room.

But Kim isn’t really listening she has what she wants.

She hands over the money and gets out of there.

 

As she walks away she has one last look over her shoulder.

That old guy was really creepy and he smelt like the living dead.

She walks away with a feeling of disgust,but she is happy.

Now she can go to the school dance.

 

Albion Lestrange has no need to follow the girl.

He knows exactly where she lives.

All he has to do is wait for that girl to try that dress on and he will steal that smile right off her face.

He will steal her very existence.

 

Albion has been stealing smiles and lives for a very long time.

He was born in Bulgaria in the year 1796 to a loving mother but a very abusive father.

And when he was three years old his father sensing that there was something wrong with his son.

Put him into a burlap sack and threw him in the river.

 

But lucky for Albion a band of gypsies were camping on the edge of the river.

They saw the sack floating by and pulled it into shore.

And when they untied the sack were surprised to see a small child inside.

They all thought they he was the second coming of Christ.

So they wrapped him in a sacred gown and bowed in his presence.

 

When Albion was twenty one he was taken to the leader of the gypsies who was  laying

on her death bed.

She beckoned Albion forward and blessed him with Holy water.

The elder pointed towards the corner of the room where a crystal ball sat on a velvet cloth.

She told Albion that the crystal ball was now his.

He is to take that ball and be a visionary for the people.

 

So Albion took that crystal ball and he travelled the world gazing into its aura.

But when Albion gazed into the ball he didn’t see visions of good he saw visions of hell.

As he travels he takes the money from the foolhardy and tells exactly what they want to hear.

 

But as always Albion is beginning to show his age.

His skin is as thin as parchment paper and he smells like the living dead.

But not bad for a human over 220 years of age.

And Albion has no plans to die just yet so once again he gazes into that crystal ball.

He sees visions of multi coloured threads.

Those threads dance around in Albion’s mind and a memory forms.

 

He remembers when he was growing up the gypsy elder telling him about magical

threads that could be woven together to kill.

He could kill without leaving a thread of evidence behind.

 

Albion is almost spent.

He has gazed so deep into that crystal ball that he has used up all of his reserve energy.

He is now nothing more than skin and bone.

But at that moment his crystal ball begins to glow.

Albion drags himself over to it and smiles with glee.

 

A young women is approaching his front door,she is the one.

He casually arranges the apparel around the room and waits for his life blood to knock.

And she does.

He shows the girl inside and she looks a little apprehensive.

At 221 years of age Albion knows that he isn;t exactly looking his best.

But he smiles at her and guides her toward the viewing room.

 

Albion gazes into the crystal ball and whispers the words that the women is craving.

And he notices that her eyes keep drifting towards a sweater draped over a chair.

Made with a combination of green and black magical threads the sweater is irresistable.

So after the reading Albion tells the lady to take the sweater with his blessings.

 

An hour later the lady gets home and runs into her bedroom.

She cant wait to try the sweater on.

Soon she is standing in front of the mirror she is so happy the sweater is a perfect fit.

It is like it was made for her.

 

Albion is gazing into his crystal ball watching as the lady dances around in delight.

And when she looks into the mirror once more.

Their eyes meet.

Albion can see the lady screaming and he gazes even deeper.

Soon the scream turns to horror as the sweater starts to constrict.

The lady panics as she tries to get the sweater off.

But it squeezes and squeezes until she takes her final breath.

 

Albion places his mouth onto his crystal ball.

And as the last breath leaves the Ladies body it enters Albion’s .

And it gives him a new lease on life.

Albion could now pass as your average 45 year old man.

 

It has been over a month since the girl visited his stall to buy that little black dress.

And still she hasn’t tried it on.

Albion is getting frustrated he knows that he want stay young much longer.

He needs fresh blood and he needs it now.

Once again he gazes into his crystal ball.

 

Kim Watkins the girl who bought the little black dress is upset.

She didn’t go to the school dance because her date stood her up so she threw the little

black dress into her closet without trying it on.

Now she is laying in bed having a very strange dream.

She is dreaming about that creepy foul smelling old man who sold her the dress.

He is telling her to visit him tomorrow morning and she is to wear that black dress.

 

The following morning Kim is feeling groggy like she is hungover.

And she finds herself pulling on her once favourite dress.

Then boarding a bus to the other side of town.

 

She gets off outside a run down house and walks towards it.

And before she can knock on the door the creepy old man opens it.

And beckons her inside.

Kim is surprised to find herself in a room with a crystal ball sitting on a table.

 

Albion sits her down opposite him and gazes into that ball.

Than he reaches across and starts to caress her hair and guides her mouth towards the ball.

When Kim’s mouth touches the crystal ball her body goes into a series of jerks and spasms

Albion puts his mouth on the other side of the ball and starts to suck the life from the girl.

 

Albion is in a state of bliss as the girls life blood enters his system.

He is once again a younger version of himself so he goes into the lounge and pours himself a large brandy to celebrate.

And he soon falls asleep with a smile of gratitude on his face.

 

When he awakes a few hours later he goes to check on the girls body.

And is surprised to see that she is still breathing.

So he starts to choke the girl to kill her once and for all.

But when he does he inadvertedly touches the threads on the little black dress.

And they weave and intermingle with his own clothing and they pull tight.

 

Albion reaches back towards his crystal ball to try and summon some help.

But he loses balance and knocks the ball to the floor.

Where it shatters into a thousand pieces.

And when it does his connection to the gypsies and the girl are broken.

He falls to the ground and lands beside Kim on the carpet.

Where they lay mouth to mouth.

 

Albion’s body starts to break down and decompose.

His skin splits and his internal organs start to rot.

And as his last breath leaves his body it enters Kim’s mouth and kick starts her heart.

 

She push’es the corpse of the creepy old fuck aside and gets to her feet.

As she stands the little black dress falls from her body and covers Albion Lestrange

like a burial shroud.

 

Kim runs into the bathroom hoping to find a bath robe to  wear.

And she is in luck.

She slips into a pair of womens shoes and gets the fuck out of there.

 

She doesn’t know what in the fuck just happened.

And she cant get out of the house fast enough.

But when steps onto the door mat a shard from the crystal ball gets embedded

into her shoe.

It sparkles like a diamond and is taken home by its new owner.

 

 

THE END

When Country Was Western

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My name is Stanley Robinson.

But you might know me by my stage name ‘Swamp Dog’ Robinson.

I had a few minor hits back in the sixties

Everybody told me that i should of made it to the top.

But i didn’t quite make it.

My name is ‘Swamp Dog’ Robinson.

And this is my story.

 

I was born July 28 1947 in a mean little town.

Not all that far away from Nashville Tennesse

A mean little town where everybody did it tough.

My mother was the head of the house because dad was injured in the war.

She did all that she could to keep the wolves from the door.

 

We didn’t have any money so we lived with grandpa at his house.

And sometimes he would entertain us by playing his guitar and singing along.

He told that what he was playing was called country and western.

But my mama called it the blues.

I didn’t care what it was called.

I just loved the sound of that guitar and grandpa’s voice

I knew then and there that playing country and western was my career of choice.

 

I used to sneak into grandpa’s room and fool around with his guitar.

And dream about moving to Nashville and becoming the latest new sensation.

Having girls throwing themselves at my feet.

My songs would be played on all of the radio stations.

I will become inducted in the country and western hall of fame.

And everyone on Earth will scream and know my name.

 

One night grandpa caught me messing with his guitar.

And he offered to show me how to play.

I quickly learnt all of the basic chords i just couldn’t get enough.

Me and my grandpa were hanging tough.

 

I practised everyday until my fingers would bleed.

That guitar meant the world to me.

Except of course for mama papa and grandpa to.

But that goes without saying.

I just wanted the world to hear me playing.

 

For my fifteenth birthday i was given my very own second hand guitar.

And it soon became my pride and joy.

I knew that money was tight and that mama and papa were struggling.

So i gave them a kiss and a hug of thanks.

I loved to watch my fingers move up and down the fret.

I thought to myself ‘ You haven’t heard nothing yet’

 

I took my guitar to school so i could practise every chance i got.

One day a teacher heard me playing and asked if i wanted to play in the

school band?

I just shrugged my shoulders ‘sure’ but inside my stomach was doing cartwheels.

I was boarding the train of with silver wheels.

 

So i joined the band and after a week of practise we were ready to play our first show.

But at the last minute the singer got cold feet and quit on the spot.

The teacher started to panic and asked if any of us could sing?

I put my hand up thinking ‘How hard could it be?’

That is when i discovered that i had a voice.

So now i was playing guitar and singing lead.

Unfortunately that is when my ego started to feed.

 

The school band was good,but i knew that i was better than the others

It was good to play to my family and friends.

But i wanted to play to the masses.

A friend told me about a club that held a talent quest every Thursday night.

So i racked up the courage and went to this seedy little joint

And waited for my chance at the end of the line.

I knew that this was a great opportunity to shine.

 

When my time came i walked onto the stage as nervous as a kitten.

But i soon turned into a lion and began to roar.

I gave it everything that i had and a whole lot more

I just let the music do the talking

I was only supposed to play one song ,but i ended up doing three.

The noise from the crowd got the adrenaline pumping.

And my ego got a boost that it didn’t really need.

I was floating up on cloud number nine.

But as you know not every cloud has a silver lining.

Sometimes they can turn heavy and black.

I was now walking a very dangerous path.

And there was no going back.

 

After my set i waited around for the other contestants to do their thing.

And even though i was underage a local bought me a whiskey to calm my nerves.

It filled my stomach with fire but it settled me down.

I licked my lips i really could do with another taste of that soothing liquor.

Looking back now i should have walked out of that door without looking back.

Already my world was beginning to crack.

 

I won the competition with first prize being a chance to record a demo tape.

That would be sent off to all of the record companies.

An opportunity to hit the big time.

I could tour the world with the likes of Cash.Kristofferson,Rodgers and Cline.

The cream of the crop.

I was too busy living on the edge of tomorrow.

So i didn;t hear the penny drop.

 

When i arrived at the recording studio first thing i did was visit the bathroom.

The day before i had bought myself a hip flask and filled with Johnny Walker Red.

I sat there and had myself a tiny little sip.

Barely enough to wet my lip.

 

But it was enough.

I got through the session with flying colours.

A couple of my own songs were put down plus a Jimmy Reeve cover.

I layed them all down in one take i was played like a man possessed.

Feeling rather pleased with myself i snuck off to have another drink.

A toast to my success.

I raised the flask up and ‘God bless’.

 

My demo was sent off to all of the record labels.

And i was expecting an avalanche of replies.

Instead all i heard was the roaring sound of silence

To say i was disappointed is an under statement in the extreme

But i was still in my teens so all i could do was play the local bars.

I played and played for years waiting for my break.

My drinking was getting out of hand

But it was a crutch that i needed to keep me from going insane

It also helped me to forget my memories and forget the pain.

 

Than one night i was playing at a local dive trying to make a living.

But still dreaming the dream.

After my set i was sitting at the bar having another glass of temptation

When i felt a tap on my shoulder,i turned to see a guy in a suit.

He told me that he had enjoyed my show and had listened to my old demo.

Would i be interested in a recording contract with Warner Bros ?

He told me that he would drive me to Nashville and i could sign the deal

My dream once again was becoming very real.

 

After a month of rehearsal and a whole lot of drinking

I entered the studio to record my first album

But the recording session didn’t go so well.

A bottle of whiskey was in my left hand and the microphone in my right.

So we had to play take after take.

I could tell that the session musicians were getting pissed off with my

unprofessional attitude.

But i didn’t really give a shit.

I was a star on the rise it is now my time to shine.

I celebrated with a bottle of whiskey and few glasses of wine.

 

To my and the record companies surprise the album was a hit.

In the first week it sold over 100.000 copies

And after a month my album was sitting at number 10 on the country and western

chart.

My management quickly arranged an American tour to cash in on the success.

I did interviews after interviews with the music press getting my name out there.

There was also talk of touring Europe Australia and Japan.

I am living the dream i am the main man.

 

The first show was in Cleveland supporting Waylon Jennings.

We are off to a flying start.

My backing band is red hot and we blow Waylon off the stage.

We travelled from town to town city to city criss crossing the whole country

The headlines were calling me the new kid in town the latest sensation.

I was quickly becoming the toast of the nation.

 

The tour was a great success until we reached Atlanta Georgia

I walked out onto the stage with my guitar and a bottle of Johnny Walker.

But midway through my set i started to forget the lyrics and i hit a few wrong notes,

The crowd was getting restless and had started to boo.

I gave them the finger and screamed out ‘fuck you’

 

I was kicked off the tour.

And i went back home with my tail between my legs.

My manager told me that my drinking was really starting ti get out of hand.

And i agreed that i needed to tone it down.

So we came to a compromise,i could have a glass or two before the show.

But nothing while i was onstage.

But inside my alcohol fuelled brain was starting to rage.

 

After a week of recovery i was reinstated onto the tour.

On the condition that i clean up my act and behave.

I wholeheartedly agreed to their wishes.

 

My antics at the Atlanta show had made the headlines  and gave my record sales

a boost.

But i knew that if i didn;t behave myself my career would be over.

I would have a shot or two and play and sing with soul.

But i was teetering on the edge of a great big hole.

 

For the next few years i kept a low profile.

Building up my fan base and keeping out of trouble.

My album sales were steady and a had a couple of hits in my home town.

But don;t think that i have turned into an angel.

Because every now and then i will go on a bender.

That will sometimes last a whole week.

My throat was so hoarse i could barely speak.

 

Than my manager calls with some good news.

Willie Nelson is coming to town and he wants me to be his support act.

Willie at the time was one of the biggest stars on the planet.

So this is a big chance to kick start my career.

So i will have to be on my best behaviour.

This is the last throw of the dice.

I will never get another shot at the big time if i keep fucking up.

I have to stop drinking from the Devils cup.

 

After two weeks of rehearsal i am ready for the show.

But instead of the usual two shots i down half the bottle to settle my nerves.

My manager tells that the concert is being filmed for a TV special.

So i sneak a bottle onstage and hide it behind the amps.

Just for a little insurance you have to understand.

I walk onstage the stage with my great little band.

 

I get a good ovation when i finish the first song.

But by the fifth song my throat is getting dry,

So during the guitar solo i go behind the amps for a little taste.

A voice in my head is screaming  ‘What a fucking waste’

 

After a few more visits to the bottle i just say fuck it and take the bottle back with me

and put it near my microphone stand.

Like a security blanket.

I have a long slug before i start my final song.

The bottle is almost empty.

My brain is a little blurry and i struggle to remember the words.

The last thing i remember is hearing the jeers and heckles from the crowd.

I start to stumble and fall right off the stage.

My career is over i have reached the final page.

 

I am now 55 years old and i am still waiting for that phone call that will never come.

I still play guitar and sing country and western.

Or country as they call it now.

I had my chance at stardom but i drank it all away.

My demons are with me and they are here to stay.

 

 

THE END.

Murder Of Crowes

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‘Jesus Christ,is that freaking clock going backwards?’

It is the last day before the summer break.

And the clock in the classroom decides to mess with my mind.

 

Has time stood still?

Has the second hand frozen in place?

Finally the school bell rings and i race outside.

Summer vacation is my favourite time of the year.

Six weeks without homework and teachers.

Six weeks of sunshine and fun.

 

Three of my friends are waiting for me by the school gate

Kyle Coogan,Brian Jones,Dennis Steele and i have been friends since

kindergarten.

But next year we will be going to different high schools.

So this could be the last break that we spend together.

 

My name is Charlie Osborne and i am twelve years old.

I am almost a teenager but not quite.

If this is to be the last summer break i get to be with my friends.

I want to make the most of it.

 

My friends and i are just like any boys our age.

We like to go swimming,fishing and camping out in our backyards.

Sometimes we will collect tadpoles and pick blackberries.

All the normal boy stuff.

 

Today we decide to explore the bush land behind Kyles place.

Sometimes we will come across a kangaroo chewing on grass.

Or a goanna climbing up a tree.

But this time we see something different.

 

A black crow is on the ground running around in circles.

It has a broken wing and cant fly away.

I tell Kyle to go back to his house and get a box.

Maybe we can look after this bird until its wing heals.

 

Kyle looks at me like i am crazy ‘Fuck that it is only a crow’

He bends down and picks up a rock and throws it at the crow with all of

his might.

He misses but Brian and Dennis also start to throw rocks and stones at the crow.

 

Rock after rock hit the target and the bird falls to the ground.

They keep on throwing until that bird is dead.

I cant believe that my friends just did that.

But they are laughing and giving each other high fives.

I cant do anything for the bird so we run towards a water hole.

 

Up in the trees about twenty black crowes watch as the boys run away.

They fly from tree to tree following the boys as they wander down the

dirt track.

The crowes all have two things in common,they are all black.

And they all have murder in their eyes.

 

After a few hours of  swimming and skylarking around we decide to head home for something to eat.

All except Kyle who decides to stay behind and do some more swimming.

We wave to Kyle and tell him that we will be back in about an hour.

 

Kyle strips down to his underwear  and dives in head first.

As he swims and splashes around he doesn’t notice the crow’es gathering in the trees

above.

He continues to swim for a while but soon becomes bored.

So he decides to rest up and wait for his friends.

He spreads out his towel and starts to bake in the sun.

 

One of the crow’es lands on a branch just above Kyle and sizes up the situation.

Than without warning in lands on Kyle’s face with talons extended.

Kyle screams out in panic and tries to fight back but he has been taken by surprise

and he soon tires.

And before he knows what is happening both of his eyes are plucked out and swallowed

down whole.

 

By now Kyle is hysterical as the crow attacks his face.

Soon he goes into shock and offers little resistance.

The other crow’es descend onto Kyle and start to strip the flesh from his body.

Kyle’s body shudders as the black birds have their way.

They peck and claw at his body until he is nothing but a pile of bloody bones.

 

After lunch i meet up with Brian and Dennis and we make our way back to the water hole.

When we arrive Kyle is nowhere in sight.

All we see is his beach towel and his baseball cap floating in the water.

Beside the cap floats a single black feather.

 

We run home as fast as we can to get help.

My mother calls the police and we wait for them to arrive.

The area around the water hole is cordoned off and the police send for divers to

search the bottom.

And soon Kyle’s body is brought to the surface.

 

There is a gasp from the onlookers when the body comes into view.

His mother tries to run forward but is held back.

 

How has Kyle’s body been reduced to a skeleton in such a short time?

Was he attacked by a pack of wild dogs or is there a madman on the loose?

The police hold a police conference and tell everybody that until an autopsy

is performed.

It is best for people to be on their guard and for all of the neighbourhood kids

to stay indoors.

 

Brian Jones is home bored out of his mind.

It has been a week since Kyle was killed by who knows what

Brian feels sorry for Kyle,but it is summer break he needs to go out and play.

So he decides to sneak out and see how Dennis and Charlie are going.

He climbs out of his bedroom window under the cover of darkness.

 

Dennis only lives a few blocks away,so he will hang out for a while.

His parents want even know that he is gone.

As he walks under a street light he senses movement over his left shoulder.

When he looks back something slams into his face.

He staggers around in bewilderment with a bloodied nose and cut cheek.

 

Another black crow swoops down and attacks Brians face and neck.

Brian shit;s his pants and runs away in shock.

Straight into the path of a semi trailer.

 

The driver cant bake in time and he hits Brian full on.

The truck skids to a stop a hundred metres down the road.

The driver jumps out and races back hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

And the worst it is,

He cant believe that what he is seeing was once a living human being.

He looks away and vomits up his dinner completely covering a single black feather.

 

Dennis Steele is in his room crying into his pillow.

First Kyle was killed and now Brian.

Why are his friends dying?

It is school holidays we should all be having fun not cooped up inside.

When will his parents let him outside to fucking play?

 

Dennis knows that he has just  said the F word out loud but he doesn’t care anymore.

All he wants is for things to go back to normal again.

So that everybody can start to feel safe again.

 

Everything is getting to be too much for Dennis.

His nerves are shot to hell and his stomach is playing up.

And for the fifth time that day he makes his way to the bathroom.

 

He pulls down is pants and takes a seat waiting for nature to take its course.

When he hears a noise coming from the water below.

He looks down between his legs and sees a black bird heading for his scrotum.

 

He tries to jump up but he isnt quite fast enough.

The crow pecks open his ball bag and his testicles disappear down the throat of that

crazes bird.

His screams could be heard from twenty five miles away.

 

Inch by inch Dennis is pulled down into the toilet bowl.

His bones creak and crack and finally break as he is swallowed down into the sewers.

 

As Dennis enters his watery grave his parents are frantically trying to kick down the bathroom door.

And when they finally do all they see is a broken toilet

.And a single black feather.

 

Holt fucking Christ on a crutch.

I cant believe it.

First Kyle than Brain and now Dennis.

Who or what is killing all of my friends?

 

As i sit with my parents watching some TV i remember the cops telling them about finding a black feather in Dennis bathroom.

My mind goes back to that day at the water hole.

Surely it cant be about that?

Do crow’es have good memories like elephants?

They  say that elephants never forget but what about crow’es?

 

I tell my parents that i need to go for ride.

They try to stop me but i am gone in a flash.

I jump on my bike and race back to that waterhole.

And i soon arrive at the spot where we stoned that crow to death.

 

So i am so nervous my goose pimples have dimples.

I sit down in the middle of the track and wait.

All of the leaves in the trees shake and fall to the ground.

Soon i am surrounded by a green carpet and a thousand naked branches.

Is the devil coming to take me away?

Or are the black crow’es on the warpath?

 

I am guessing the latter but i don’t really know.

Soon the sky is full of black wings and an eerie silence.

Then twenty black birds land at my feet and start to do a war dance.

Or maybe it is a rain dance? One can only hope.

But the sky i clear there isn’t a cloud in sight.

So war it is.

 

One of the crow’es rushes in and attacks my left foot

I look at that crow as it grabs my little toe and tears it from my body.

And it flies back up into the trees with my twinkie in its mouth.

 

As i am distracted another bird attacks my other foot and another toe is swallowed

down.

It looks like these crow’es are going to kill me very slowly

Toe by toe bit by bit.

 

The remaining crow’es continue to walk around me in a clockwise direction.

What body part will they attack next?

‘God don’t let it be my eyes i don;t want to be blind’

And Jesus don;t let it be my willy.

I haven;t had sex yet please don;t let me die a virgin.

 

While i have been sitting in the dirt thinking another bird has flown in and taken a chunk out of my ear.

I don’t dare to fight back because i know that if i do the birds will go into a feeding frenzy.

So i cover my nuts with both hands put my head down and pray.

And through the pain i try to relax and hopefully the crow’es will fly away and leave me

in peace.

And not pieces.

 

 

But no such luck.

Another chunk is taken from my body

Blood is pouring from deep groves and starts to pool on the ground.

I pray to God and whisper goodbye to mum and dad.

 

But you know what ? Fuck that.

I jump up and scream at those fucking birds.

I tell them that i am sorry that their friend died but enough is enough.

I close my eyes and count to fifty and when i open them the birds are gone.

I turn back and start to limp home.

Than the crow’es are back.

 

These freaking birds swoop down in attack mode.

And they attack my head with venegance tearing out my hair strand by strand.

Holy fucking crap i am getting scalped by a bunch of birds.

Or should i say a murder of crow’es.

 

I cant see a thing as my blood streams down my face.

I wait for another attack but it doesn’t come.

I wipe my face with my shirt and scan my surroundings.

There isn’t any sign of the crow’es.

I pick my self up ans wander towards home.

 

Than a crow lands on the track just in front of me

He is obviously the ring leader.

With his chest puffed out he struts around like a peacock.

I look down at that black bird and once again i apologise for my behaviour

I will never ever harm another crow as long as i live.

 

The crow looks up at me with disdain.

Than he flies up and lands on my shoulder he walks over to my bleeding ear

and whispers ‘Don;t forget i know where you live’

 

 

THE END.

Watermelon Sam

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If you are taking a drive along the lonely roads of southern Arkansas.

You will come across a wobbly old sign ‘Melons For Sale’

But let me give you a word of advice.

Just buy your melons and be on your way.

Better still ignore the sign and keep on going.

And don’t look back.

 

The owner of the melon farm is a cranky old timer named Sam Hendry.

He has a reputation as a man not to mess with.

But he sure does know his melons

He grows any type of melon that you could ever want.

But watermelons are his speciality.

They are his pride and joy.

Just hand over your money and be on your way

Don’t try to haggle over the price.

 

Water melon Sam got his nickname when he was a little lad.

He would eat up to ten watermelons every single day.

In fact nobody has ever seen him eat anything else.

He would demolish those melons seeds and all.

As the water ran down his chin Sam would stare off into space.

Rubbing his crotch with a creepy evil grin.

 

Sam Hendry has loved on the farm all of his life.

It has been in his family for five generations.

But this generation will be the last.

Watermelon Sam is now forty five years old.

And in that time he has never ventured more than fifty miles.

 

Once a month he drives into town to buy his supplies.

Then he scurries on back home.

The outside world doesn’t interest him at all.

All he wants is to be left alone with his melons.

If you leave him alone he will give you no harm

But if you disturb his isolation he will kill you in a heartbeat.

 

At fifteen Sam took a life for the first time.

In fact he took two.

He decided that his parents were getting in the way so they had to go.

He tied them to chairs in the kitchen and force fed them watermelon

until they choked.

He got all hard and excited as he watched his mother and father breathe

their last breath.

He never loved his parents when they were alive.

But he smiled and welcomed their death.

 

He left them tied to the chairs for over a week

Until they started to stink and become over ripe.

Than he buried them out in the water melon patch.

 

Over the following weeks he watched in amazement as his melons grew

like never before.

Obviously his new fertiliser is working wonders.

Nothing is better for your garden than human blood and bone.

 

Thirty years later and Sam is digging in his garden when a car drives into the farm.

He hates the intrusion,but at the same time he knows that the tourists supply him

with his needs.

They spend their money and take away a melon and a little taste of his ma and pa.

While others stay behind to supply nutrients for his melons.

 

You might of heard about the missing tourists on the evening news.

Every few months or so for the last thirty years.

A tourist has gone missing in Southern Arkansas.

 

The last tourist went missing three days ago.

Michael Tomkins was a businessman from Kansas who was on his way

home to his family.

But he made a huge mistake he decided to stop at a farm to buy some melons.

 

Watermelon Sam heard the car drive arrive and came to the decision that this tourist wasn’t going home.

So he put a smile on his face and acted real nice as the guy got out of his car.

‘Howdy there what can i do for ya? Michael is a little taken aback by this odd looking

old man.

But he smiles and says ‘Just a few Melons to take back to Kansas’

Watermelon Sam shows him over to the melon patch and tells the tourist to pick out the

melons that he wants.

 

Right in the middle of the patch is a freshly dug hole seven foot long and three foot deep.

Michael turns and asks and Sam ‘What is that hole for? Are you going to bury a dead calf?

Watermelon Sam shakes his head and says ‘No,I am going to bury a dead human’

It takes a second for the words to compute in Michael’s brain.

He goes to run but he doesn’t get very far.

 

Watermelon Sam picks up a pitchfork and runs it through Michael’s stomach.

Michael wriggles like fish on the end of a hook.

The pitchfork is stuck fast so Sam walks him over to the hole and drops him in.

Blood is gurgling from the tourists mouth but Sam couldn’t care less.

He puts his foot on his chest and after a struggle the pitchfork comes free.

Words are coming from the mouth of the dying man .

Sam doesn’t listen he covers him in three feet of dirt and walks away.

 

Sam is feeling mighty pleased with himself.

He is sitting on his front porch looking out over his garden.

If he owned a banjo he would be playing it right now.

But his hands are full.

He is devouring yet another watermelon.

He eats that melon like a man possessed.

But he is eating way too fast and one of the seeds goes down the wrong way.

Sam starts to choke he coughs and hacks trying to bring up that seed.

But all he achieves is to swallow that seed even further.

But at least he can breathe normally again.

 

Sam has no idea what is happening inside his body.

That seed has lodged inside his gut and has started to germinate.

A few days later Sam is starting to feel unwell and a bit bloated.

He hasn’t been to the toilet for two days.

He is backed up all the way to hell.

Sam rally needs to poo.

 

He stumbles around his watermelon patch like a crazy man.

Than he feels a tickle from his arsehole.

Maybe there is some relief after all.

He pulls down his pants and squats over his blessed earth.

 

A watermelon root sprouts from his arse and makes a bee line into the

dirt.

Sam tries to stand but he is stuck fast.

Mire roots appear from every orifice in his body.

Sam starts to panic.

Maybe if he can take a shit he can escape from this torture?

So he pushes and strains trying to open his bowels.

 

Sam is sweating with the effort God am i am shitting a bowling Ball?’

It isn’t a bowling ball but a huge watermelon.

Sams arsehole is stretched to the limit.

Then it snaps.

 

The watermelon plops out quickly followed by his intestines and something

that might be his colon or prostate.

Sam starts to pray and ask for forgiveness.

But it is way too little way too fucking late.

 

All of the roots have travelled down his body and taken anchor.

For watermelon Sam there is to be no escape.

Another root has sprouted from his shrivelled cock and out of his piss hole.

And it buries itself into the ground.

 

As Sam struggles for his life a hundred pair of hands appear from the tainted

earth.

His mother and father pull the hardest.

They want to make sure that their son cant hurt anybody else.

They pull and pull all the way down to the earths core.

 

 

THE END

Squeeze The Clouds

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My family has been living on the land for over five

generations.

Since 1860 we have produced the finest woo in the

state.

The fleece has won more blue ribbons than you can poke

a stick at.

But now the sheep are dying out in the paddocks.

It hasn’t rained in over a year.

The clouds refuse to shed even a single tear.

 

My name is Rodney Swain and i am ten years old.

And i know that my family is hurting.

I would do anything to make them happy.

I wish that i could climb a giant ladder and reach up into

the heavens.

I would squeeze the clouds until they cry.

Cant they see that the grass is brown and dying?

So why aren’t the clouds crying?

 

Every night after the evening meal.

We would all sit out on the back porch hoping to see

lightning and the sound of thunder.

But as usual the sky is full of stars there isn’t a cloud in

sight.

How can mummy and daddy continue the fight?

 

I work beside daddy everyday before and after school

Trying to keep the farm afloat

But how can you feed your livestock when the grass id dead

And the top soil has blown away?

Sometimes i see daddy wiping the tears from his eyes as he hand

feeds the animals

As i watch him a say a little prayer. ‘Please God make it rain so daddy

can get some rest’

‘We really need some rain to  to fill the rivers and dams’

That should put on smile on the faces of all the ewes and the randy

rams’

 

But still it doesn’t rain.

Maybe if i place on top of each other and climb that that giant ladder

I can reach high enough to squeeze the clouds.

And hopefully they will co operate and release some steady rain.

Don’t they realise you can only take so much heartache and pain?

 

In wake up in the morning in sheets wet with my sweat

6 am and already the heat is stifling.

Why does summer have to be so hot?

Cant there be a season where it doesn’t get above 28 degrees

and it rains every second day?

Why does my family and all the other families have to always live

in drought?

All we need is a little precipitation.

To saturate the whole god damn nation.

 

The situation is getting drastic.

We reply on the rain for our very existence.

It hasn’t rained in three long years.

Today the temperature is forecast to reach 43 degrees

And the following will be more of the same.

The girl on the weather channel predicts the weather with a smile

She says there wont be any rain for quite a while.

 

How can she smile when families on the land are hurting?

Doesn’t she know that farmers are killing themselves?

Because the clouds refuse to yield

Bills still need to be paid and everyone has to eat.

There is never enough money to go around.

All because of a lack of water.

Why doesn’t it rain so win can win the fight and stop the slaughter?

 

Maybe if i stack the three on top of five barns.

I will be able to climb the giant ladder and squeeze the clouds.

Until they start to weep.

Than we can all rest easy and finally get some sleep.

 

Another three months has gone by.

And still the clouds refuse to budge.

They turn black and threaten a down pour.

But it is all just sound and bluster.

Soon all of the clouds disappear over the horizon.

And once again it is clear skies sunshine and heat.

My family and the community are all strong.

But this time i think they are beat.

 

Maybe if i stack the three tractors on top of the five barns

along with seven houses.

I can climb the giant ladder and reach up and squeeze the clouds.

And they will open up and supply us all with days of steady rain.

So it can soak into the earth and turn the grass green

Fill all of the rivers creeks dams and water tanks.

I would look up into the clouds and scream THANKS

 

Another six months has passed.

And there hasn’t been a single drop.

So once again i start to think.

What if i stacked the three tractors on top of the five barns.

Along with the seven farm houses.

Than if i added nine skyscrapers  i could climb that giant ladder

And squeeze the clouds and those fuckers will relent to my touch.

Cause when you think about i am not really asking for much.

 

Sorry for saying the swear word out loud.

Please don’t tell mummy or daddy because i would get a belting.

I promise not to do it again,now where was i ?

 

‘Rodney’

I am startled to hear my mummy’s voice.

And also to find myself standing on the roof of our house.

Jumping up and down doing a rain dance.

‘Get down from there right this minute,or you will get a belting

you wont forget in a hurry’

I don’t know what i am doing,but i start to chant and pray.

I close my eyes and imagine those three tractors stacked on top of

the five barns.

Along with the seven farm houses with the nine skyscrapers.

I see myself climbing that giant ladder and reaching up to

squeeze the clouds.

 

And do you know what?

I can feel my fingers getting wet.

So i squeeze a little harder and the clouds finally release.

And send down the much needed rain.

Finally my family and all of the other farmers can look to the future

With a fresh attitude and a soggy smile.

Because i think the rain is going to be here for quite a while.

 

 

THE END.

I Wish

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I wish that i was tall and handsome

But alas i am short and stubby.

People in the streets call me fat.

But y’know i am only slightly chubby.

 

I wish that i was more out going

Instead of being an over sensitive guy

And even though i know the answer

I still ask myself the question Why?

 

I wish that i was a higher power

Than i could cure all diseases.

Than the people that i love and cherish

Will no longer have to die.

My eyes would shine and sparkle with happiness

And no have to cry.

 

I wish that my mother and father stop arguing

And just talk to one another.

Because they did love each other once upon a time.

They live in the same house just not together.

The house is surrounded by very stormy weather

 

I wish that the earth was flat.

Than i could push all the bad people over the edge

I would listen to them screaming all the way down

I know it is wrong but i think i would enjoy that sound

 

I wish that i was a prize fighter

Fighting for the heavyweight title

Instead of being a world champion wimp

But i suppose it could be worse.

I could wake up as the pulp fiction gimp

 

I wish that people of different races and religion

Could all just be at peace.

But all they do is fight because of creed and different

coloured skin.

But we are all human beings of the same kin

 

I wish that i could see things in black and white

Because sometimes distorts the starkness

And though though i enjoy the light

I also welcome the darkness

 

I wish that my pen would stop moving around the paper

But it likes to form words

But sometimes the words aren’t quite right

And i need to take a rest

But still my pen continues to write

It can sometimes be a real pest

 

I wish that i was more popular

Than i could hang with all the cool people

I could bask in the limelight

And smell the decadence and wealth

But at the same time i like to live behind the curtain

of stealth.

 

I wish that there were no more wars

But mankind has been fighting each other

Ever since they started to live in caves

It is now 2017 so  people lay down your weapons

And start to fucking behave

 

I wish that i was famous

My face would grace the cover of all the magazines

I could be a celebrity for no particular reason

Just like that family of Kardashians

I could have my own television series

For way too many seasons

 

I wish that a had a pet

A cat or maybe a dog

Than i would have to be a responsible adult

If i owned a dog i would have to feed it take it for walks

and pay huge bills at the vet

So on second thought i don’t really want a pet

 

I wish that i was a man of mystery

But i am just your average joe

I have a normal job and live in an ordinary house

I mow the lawn and take out the trash

Just like everybody else

And they is the way that i like it

I wouldn’t change not even a bit

 

Except maybe …..

 

What do you wish for?

Go ahead and make a wish

You never know it might come true

But it more than likely wont

Just close your eyes and make a wish

But don’t say it out loud

Keep it to yourself

Wish

 

 

THE END

 

Nasty Piece Of Work

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I live the lifestyle of the rich and famous.

Even though i have no money of my own.

I am 37 years old now and i haven’t worked a day

in my life.

I eat the rich and lay around all day.

Why should i work when other people can pay my way?

 

I was born under a full moon on Friday the 13th 1981.

My parents have told me that i was born bad.

And that i have been an arsehole ever since.

But i don’t care what other people think.

I just do what i please.

I just chop and chop until i bring them to their knees.

 

My devious ways got worse when i started school.

When i had a hundred other kids to pick clean.

They never knew what was happening.

I used every trick in the book to line my pockets.

I cheated at marbles and used stand over tactics.

 

And soon my pockets were overflowing with their lunch money.

And sometimes i even ate their lunch as well.

School can be good but i made it a living hell.

 

At high school i didn’t worry about playing games to get money.

I just used my fists and size to get what i wanted.

But fighting is hard work i used to work up a sweat.

Why couldn’t my family have money and live in the right

neighbourhood.

But y’know i kind of like being bad.

Fuck being good.

 

I have become a despised little jerk.

A real nasty piece of work.

 

After i finished school i was at a bit of a loose end.

I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I could get a job and make an honest living.

Or i could lay around smoking some weed.

Thinking of ways to spend other peoples money.

Why should i have to go to work and get my hands dirty.

My goal is to stay unemployed and retire when i am thirty.

 

At sixteen my hormones are raging

So i started to check out the local girls.

And they were giving me the loving eye.

But i knew that i had to aim higher if i was to reach my

objective.

Which is to make a lot of money without a lot of effort.

So i caught a bus (without paying) all the way to Caulfield

Heights.

Where all the rich people live.

I am all about taking i never fucking give.

 

They say love conquers all

But all i want is sex and some easy cash.

I just hope that i don’t end up with and empty wallet and a nasty

little rash.

 

At the local mall i take a seat in a coffee shop and wait for my prey.

And soon enough a girl walks in dressed up like a movie star.

She will do nicely.

She takes a seat across from me all ripe for the picking.

I give her my lovey dovey eyes a she smiles back .

She has taken the bait hook line and sinker.

And pretty soon we are sitting close together.

I move in for the kill hell bent for leather.

 

She tells me that her name is Cindy and that her family owns

half of the town.

And she offers to buy me a cup of coffee.

Well Cindy will pay for the coffee and a whole lot more.

I am going to reach into for soul and pull on her heart strings.

And i will not stop until the fat lady starts to sing.

 

I lean in close and tell Cindy a sob story.

About how i was kicked out of home and how i am struggling

to land on my feet.

Cindy sits there with her mouth open swallowing every word.

I cant believe this girl is so gullible

She offers to buy me lunch and provide a shoulder to lean on.

How can i refuse such an offer?

I eat and eat until i am ready to burst.

Just like a vampire with insatiable thirst.

 

I really am a jerk

A nasty piece of work.

 

Only sixteen and already i am on the road to ruin.

I don’t even try to be good.

Words tumble from Cindy’s mouth but i barely listen.

I am only interested in myself.

I just want to fill my pockets with ill gotten gains.

Who gives a shit for other peoples thoughts or pain?

 

Cindy is a sweet girl.

She deserves someone better than me.

I have’t listened to a word she has said.

All i want is to get my hands on her money

I will beg borrow or steal and bleed her dry.

I will leave nothing behind but an empty shell

Hello Cindy welcome to my hell.

 

Cindy stands up and says she has to visit the bathroom.

So why don’t i pay the bill whilst she is away.

She hands me her credit card and i go to the counter to pay.

But than i have second thoughts.

I walk out of the door and keep on walking.

 

As i walk down the street i reach into my pocket and pull out

a razor sharp switchblade knife.

Cindy will never know how close she came to dying today.

This time i gave her a break.

But the next time i want be so fucking nice.

Someone in my travels is going to pay a very heavy price.

 

So keep an eye out.

Because i could be headed your way.

If you see me coming.

Run as fast as you can

I really am a jerk.

A nasty piece of work.

 

 

THE  END.

 

Lowest At My Highest

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I pick at a scab on my face until it bleeds

And my skin is a nasty shade of yellow

Most of my teeth have fallen out

The drugs are starting to take a heavy toll

 

I am constantly scratching.

And my clothes reek of urine and desperation

I would do anything for a shower.

And to fall asleep in a nice warm bed.

I cant remember the last time that i ate a home cooked meal.

But first i have to score.

 

But my pockets contain nothing but a few coins and a shitload

of lint.

All i can do is walk the streets and wait for an opportunity.

And i don’t have to wait long.

 

Just up ahead a lady is enjoying a coffee at an outdoor cafe.

I am about to ruin her day big time.

She has made a huge mistake.

She has left her handbag sitting on the chair beside her.

Just waiting to be snatched.

 

She sees me approaching.

And i act like an normal person just going about my day.

And the lady doesn’t see the threat and looks away.

Just then i run forward grab that bag and take off.

I am gone before she can even cry out.

 

I go to my spot beneath a bridge to count the takings.

A total of five hundred and twenty dollars.

Enough to keep me going for a while.

 

My local supplier is waiting for me with everything that i need.

A little something to keep the wolves at bay.

Another trip to my so called paradise.

As the drugs take over my body.

I feel myself flying as high as a kite.

But at the same time i am feeling mighty low.

I always feel the lowest at my highest.

Ashamed of all the crimes that i have committed just to feed my

addiction.

I hang my head in shame.

But i know that i will have to score again tomorrow.

 

My name is Owen and i am now 24 years old.

And i have been using drugs since i was thirteen.

My parents were constantly fighting hurling abuse at each other.

So i escaped to the local park

Where i smoked dope to calm my nerves.

And i drank beer to drown my sorrows.

 

Well dope and beer are still my companions.

But now ice is my drug of choice.

It takes me to another dimension another space in time.

When i take i live on the very edge of existence.

Like sliding down the edge of a knife.

That is my life.

That is Ice.

 

I know that because of my appearance that i stick out like a sore

thumb.

But at the same time i can be invisible.

People look at me with a mixture sadness and loathing.

To them i am just another harmless bum.

But i will strike like a cobra when i need to feed my gremlins.

 

And right now my gremlins are hungry.

Every minute of every day all i think about is buying drugs.

My muscles twitch and my pores release the night sweats.

I cant sleep at night because of the constant cravings.

Only the drugs can bring me some sort of relief.

 

The money that i stole is almost gone.

So i decide to visit my grand mother for a meal.

And maybe a loan that i will never re pay

Gran knows that i have a drug problem.

And she has tried to get me help again and again.

But i always tell her the same old bullshit ‘Don’t worry gran

i can stop anytime that i want’

I have told her that lie so many times.

That sometimes i even start to believe it.

 

When gran answers the door.

I cant help but notice the look that she gives me.

A mixture of love pity and hate.

But i don’t blame her at all i have let her down so many times

over the years.

 

We chat away about family and stuff.

But the conversation always turns to my addictions.

As gran talks i block her out.

I know that she means well.

But i don’t need a lecture right now.

All i need is some money to buy my drugs.

I have stolen from gran in the past.

And i will do it again today.

 

When gran visits the bathroom.

I sneak into her bedroom and rummage around looking for jewellery

and money.

When i find what i need i call out goodbye to gran and walk out the

door.

 

After visiting my supplier.

I go to my favourite spot under the bridge.

To satisfy my needs and wants.

As i fly above the clouds i cant help but to think about gran.

She deserves a better grand son than me.

All she wants to do is help but i keep pushing her away.

Again i am feeling the lowest at my highest.

This fucking Ice has really got a grip on me.

And it isn’t letting go anytime soon.

 

A few days later gran’s money is almost gone.

So i head off towards my last resort.

Back to the park that i first visited when i was thirteen.

In the back corner is the public toilets.

Where i give blow jobs for $50 a go.

God i am not even high but i am feeling mighty low.

 

I now have enough money to last me about a week.

I even buy some food and some clean clothes from the salvation

army.

Where i start talking to the girl behind the counter.

Her name is Melissa and she offers to help me in any way that she

can.

 

I thank her for the offer ‘But i don’t need any help’

‘I am just going through a bad patch’

 

Once again i lie to myself and to people who want to help.

 

About a week later i leave my spot under the bridge.

On my endless quest to find money and drugs.

I am thinking about my situation so i don’t hear a group of thugs

coming up behind me.

I remember getting king hit and laying on the ground being

repeatedly kicked and stomped on.

Thankfully i don’t remember anything after that.

 

I wake up in a hospital a few days later.

With a fractured skull  and eye socket.

A few broken ribs and i am bruised from head to toe.

 

I don’t get any visitors.

Everybody gave up on me years ago.

And as i lie in that bed my addiction is crying out for attention.

I need to get out of here and fast.

As i am looking around for my clothes and a way to escape.

A girl enters my room wearing my room wearing a salvation army

uniform.

 

It is Melissa the girl from op shop who is going from room to room

visiting the sick and the lonely.

She recognises me and tells me that her offer still stands

If i want help all i have to do is ask.

I tell her ‘Thanks but no thanks i will be fine’

 

All i can think about is Ice.

And how to get my hands on some.

I know that i need help but i need the drugs more.

I must have been hallucinating.

And to this day i don’t know why i said it.

But i looked at Melissa as she was walking out the door.

And i silently screamed one word HELP.

 

I spent the next six months in rehab.

Getting rid of my demons and addictions.

It wasn’t easy.

I almost walked out the door a thousand times

But i thought about my family and friends that i have let

down badly over the years.

Especially my gran who i love dearly.

 

I walked out of rehab clean and sober.

Ready to start my life all over again.

I will need to find myself a job and somewhere to stay.

But firstly i need to visit my gran and apologise and being such

a bad grand son.

 

But i have to make a small detour first.

I go to my favourite spot under the bridge.

And i start to dig.

About a foot down i uncover what i have buried there.

An old biscuit tin that contains my treasured items.

Amongst all my stuff is grans jewellery that i just couldn’t

bring myself to hock.

 

I hold that tin close to my chest and walk towards gran’s  house.

 

I knock on the front door.

Not knowing what to expect.

She opens the door and her eyes light up ‘Oh Owen i thought you

must of overdosed or something’.

I walk in and put the biscuit tin on the table.

And i tell gran to open it.

 

She is surprised  to see her jewellery inside “I thought i would

never see these again’

“They aren’t worth much but they mean the world to me’

 

I tell gran about my time in rehab.

And how i have been stealing from her for years.

She just smiles ” I know i have been waiting for you to clean yourself

up and be a good person again.”

‘Welcome back’

 

If you are having problems with drugs or alcohol.

GET HELP.

Water Cooler Conversations

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Sharon Killburn is really pissed off.

Her ears are burning.

While her face is a deep beet red.

 

She looks over toward the water cooler.

And sure enough five of her workmates are standing around it.

As they talk they steal sly glances in Sharon’s direction.

Sharon knows that they are talking about her.

But what are they saying?

 

This has been going on for weeks.

Who do these bitch’es think they are?

Sharon cant stand it no more.

So she walks over to the water cooler.

Hi guys what are you talking about?

None of her workmates answer.

They wander off back to work.

 

At lunch Sharon once again tries to draw her workmates into

conversation.

But once again she is ignored.

She knows that they have been talking about her at the water cooler.

She doesn’t understand why she is being excluded.

Why are they being so standoffish?

It is really starting to mess with her mind.

 

After lunch Sharon goes to the bathroom to freshen up.

She enters the last cubicle and sits down.

She tries hard to hold back the tears

But soon they are rolling down her face.

Sharon knows that she shouldn’t let things get to her.

But she cant help it.

 

She takes a few moments to compose herself and dry her eyes.

Than with a sigh she goes back to work.

 

As she walks past the water cooler.

Once again her workmates are standing around it chatting away.

But when they spot Sharon all talking stops.

Sharon just keeps on walking acting nonchalant and carefree.

But inside her stomach is churning.

 

Don’t these people ever do any work?

All they do is stand around the water cooler gossiping behind peoples

back.

Sharon tries to get some work done but she cant concentrate.

If only she knew what they were talking about.

 

She through the rest of the day with a heavy heart.

Why are her workmates going out of their way to annoy her?

She doesn’t understand what is happening.

Her so called friends are giving her the cold shoulder.

Normally she would join in all the gossip.

So why is she now being shut out?

 

She has worked in this office for over five years.

And normally the water cooler conversations is what gets her

through the day.

A little conversation and a laugh what more could a girl ask for?

But now for some reason she being treated like an outsider.

And it is really starting to fuck with her mind.

 

At home Sharon tries to relax and forget all the crap at work.

But she cant believe the way she is being treated.

She has gone from being part of the in crowd.

To being completely ignored.

 

She pours herself a large whiskey and swallows it down in one

mouthful.

She pours herself another and starts to stew.

How dare those motherfuckers treat her like shit

As far as she knows she has done nothing wrong.

Sharon keeps on drinking as she wallows in her wounded pride.

 

The following days are all a blur for Sharon.

She has started to let herself go.

And truth be told she is starting to smell.

She no longer showers and has poor personal hygiene.

That should give her workmates something to talk about.

 

The whiskey bottle is almost empty.

But Sharon’s thoughts are full of hate.

She will make those arseholes pay big time.

As she swallows the last drop of the liquor she comes to a decision.

Tomorrow she will  have her revenge.

 

Before going to bed Sharon opens the bottom drawer of her dresser

and pulls out a pistol.

She puts it in her handbag and a small smile comes to her face.

Tomorrow cant come soon enough.

 

In the morning Sharon wakes up with one hell of a hangover.

Her tongue is furry and her head is pounding.

But after a strong cup of coffee and a handful of painkillers.

She grabs her car keys and heavy handbag  and heads off to work.

 

Arriving at the office Sharon is feeling very seedy.

And looking a little worse for wear.

She enters the staff room with her hand in her handbag stroking

the pistol.

but something is different the room is decorated with streamers and

balloons.

Is it someone’s birthday?

 

Than by the water cooler she sees her so called friends gathered around.

The cooler is covered in decorations and sitting on top is a big birthday

cake.

Than suddenly Sharon remembers that today is her 31st birthday.

 

Sharon doesn’t know what to say.

For once she is speechless

Her workmates all sing happy birthday and wish her all the best.

God how could she have been so stupid?

Her friends were giving her the silent treatment because they were planning

a surprise,

She feels like a complete fool.

 

Than she realises that she still has a hand in her bag.

With a finger on the trigger.

She slowly releases her finger and puts a smile on her face.

 

After blowing out the candles and cutting the cake.

Sharon and her workmates stand around the water cooler and talk and

talk “Thanks guys i never doubted you for a minute”

 

THE END

The Stain

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Martha Abercrombie has lived in Bangor Maine her whole life.

She recently lost her husband of forty years and is at a loose end.

She is lonely and she desperately needs something to occupy her

mind.

 

For over thirty years on her way to work she has driven past the house

of author Stephen King.

But it is another house that has caught her attention.

 

The house is a two storey monstrocity  that has clearly seen better days.

A faded old For Sale sign sits in the front yard.

It has been there for as long as Martha can remember.

 

One day Martha stops at the rusty old sign and saves the Real Estate

phone number into her mobile phone.

It is a pity that Martha doesn’t drive another route to work.

Than she would never have seen the house.

Because there is a very good reason why the house has stood vacant

for over twenty years.

 

The house is situated at 16 Balcomb Lane is shrouded by overgrown

shrubs weeds and a nasty reputation.

Originally built in 1900 by a doctor and his young family.

Who travelled all the way from Scotland to start a new life.

 

Doctor McIntosh his wife Stella and their children six year old

Prudence and little Colin a chubby four year old.

The family were excited when they finally moved into their new house

on 1st March 1900.

 

But one thing bothered Stella right from the start.

An ugly stain on the living room wall

Despite all of her scrubbing that stain just wouldn’t go away.

So finally Stella gave up and hung a family portrait over the stain and

forgot all about it.

 

Stella should have left the stain alone.

It has laid dormant for over one hundred years.

Now it has been awoken.

And it isn’t happy.

 

A month after the family moved into the house little Prudence was

spotted arriving home from school.

And since that day not one member of the McIntosh has ever been seen

again.

It is like they just disappeared into thin air.

 

The house stood empty until 1919 when another family moved in.

And than promptly vanished.

A radio was playing songs of the day.

The table was set with plates piled high with food.

Food that was never eaten.

Another family has disappeared without trace.

 

From 1932 to 1970 a total of eight families have lived in that

house.

38 people have vanished into the dust.

 

The neighbours cross the street when they come to the house.

Their is talk of a local Native American tribe laying a curse.

Their are whispers of witchcraft and of sausquatch  coming down

from the mountains.

 

In 1971 the house was demolished and every single piece of that house

was taken away and burnt.

The land stood vacant until 1986 when a new house was built.

The house was blessed by the local priest.

And a lovely young couple moved in.

 

But all of the activity has once again awoken the stain.

 

The same day as the family moved in the brand new house started to

fall apart.

The brickwork and shingles crumbled and fell to the ground

The wiring exploded in a shower of sparks.

While the plumbing leaked dirty water and sewage through out the

house.

 

The new house is transforming back into the old house.

And for the first time there is talk amongst the neighbours about

a strange stain.

 

The lady of the house a Mrs Penelope Lomax told them of a stain on the

living room wall.

It was the size and shape of a human face and the colour of blood.

And despite constant scrubbing and cleaning the stain just wouldn’t go away.

 

A month later Mrs Lomax was seen at her kitchen window.

But after that Penelope and her husband were never seen again.

 

Once more Martha Abercrombie is driving past the house at 16 Balcomb

Lane.

When she comes to a fateful decision.

After work she stops at the real estate office and makes an enquiry about the

house.

The agent is shocked by the question.

No one has asked about that house in over twenty years.

 

But she puts a smile on her face and offers to show Martha the house anytime

that suits.

They arrange to meet at the house at four o’clock the following afternoon.

 

So they meet the next day and Cathy Simpkins the agent walks with Martha

towards the front door.

But it is obvious that she is scared out of her mind.

Martha asks what is wrong and Cathy comes clean and tells Martha all about

the disappearances  that has occurred since 1900.

 

In the back of her mind Martha remembers reading about the missing people.

But this all happened years ago and this house is a renovators dream.

She decides that she has to have this house.

 

The estate agent refuses to go inside.

She opens the front door and tells Martha to take her time.

Martha walks in and feels a chill down her spine.

She goes from room to room and she like what she sees.

All of the rooms are spacious with high ceilings.

But it is obvious that the house needs a lot of work.

But she has to have it and signs the contract on the spot.

 

As Martha is signing the contract back at the cars a stain appears on

the living room wall.

It is barely visible but it is there.

 

For the next six months contractors come and go renovating the house

from top to bottom.

The wiring and plumbing is completely replaced

The house is gutted from roof to the basement fully renovated from top

to bottom.

 

Behind the living room wall the stain is shimmering in a rage.

Once again it has been disturbed.

 

Martha has finally moved into her new house and is enjoying a glass

of wine.

She cant believe how happy she is and how cheap the house was.

Life is perfect.

 

A week after moving in Martha is sitting on her couch reading the latest

Stephen King novel.

When her eyes are drawn to the living room wall.

A blood red stain is seeping through the paint.

 

Martha gets out of her chair for a closer look.

The stain looks like a human face.

Martha shakes her head ‘God my imagination sure is working overtime’.

She goes to the liquor cabinet and pours herself a large whiskey.

Than she walks back towards the stain.

 

It is definently a face.

The eyes of the stain seem to be looking back at her.

Martha’s spine tingles and her bladder starts to leak.

Despite herself she has another look at the stain.

The face is developing you can now make out all of the features.

It appears to be the face of a middle aged woman.

 

Martha pours herself another whiskey as she decides what to do.

But there really is only one decision to make.

So Martha grabs her car keys and runs toward the front door.

 

But a voice stops her in her tracks ‘Come and join me Martha and we can

be together forever’

Martha is shell shocked and her bladder empties completely.

She tries to run but her legs wont move.

Instead they turn back towards the stain.

 

Foot by foot her legs walk towards the stain until she is only five feet away.

Her legs move even closer.

Until she is standing face to face with the stain.

She waits for it to speak again.

 

But this time it doesn’t speak.

It attacks.

Two arms are thrust through the wall and enclose Martha in a bear hug.

She tries to resist but it is of no use.

Martha feels herself being pulled into the stain.

 

She struggles with all of her might.

But she cant fight off the stain.

She is dragged down to the basement and beyond.

Down to an old cemetery full of old tombstones.

Next to one of the graves is a freshly dug hole with a new tombstone.

Martha Abercrombie

Born 18 October 1944

Died 13 January 2017

RIP

The stain has fully engulfed Martha and is walking Martha backwards

until she is teetering on the edge.

Martha can smell and taste her own fear.

 

The stain whispers ‘Goodbye Martha welcome to death’

Martha fulls six feet down and lands on her back.

She is quickly covered in dirt until Martha is no more.

The sound of silence is deafening.

 

The house at 16 Balcomb Lane is up for sale again.

If you have the deposit the house can be yours.

It has been freshly painted inside and out.

The perfect place for a loving family

Or first home buyer.

 

All ready to move in.

Without a blemish or stain in sight.

 

But looks can be deceiving

 

THE END.