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I haven’t been feeling quite like myself in the last few weeks.My stomach is bloated and i have been experiencing nights sweats plus i have a strange craving for anchovies on with ice cream.

So i am either pregnant or going through menopause but i am a 35 year old male so i can safely rule out both of these options.

After a weekend of more pain and discomfort i was glad when i woke for work on Monday morning i was feeling like my old self again even though my stomach is distended and sore.

I put on a shirt a few sizes too big ,brush my teeth and head out the door.

But as i open my car door i double over in agony and barely make it back inside.

I frantically try to call 000 but in my panic i cant find my mobile phone so i stumble into my bedroom and collapse on the bed hoping like hell that the pain will pass.

But the pain gets even more intense and i watch in atonishment as the buttons on my shirt pop and my stomach swells like a watermelon.

Than with surprisingly little pain my belly button opens and a baby of sorts enters this world.’Hello my name is Audley Creed are you my daddy?

‘Holy shit’ not only have i given birth but the little fucker can talk’Um hello Audley my name is Bernie Torrence and i suppose i am your daddy.

Audley yawns with indifference and promptly falls asleep.

As my newborn sleeps a thousand questions echo around my brain.

If i wasn’t pregnant than where in the fuck did Audley come from?

How in the hell am i supposed to look after a talking baby?

Plus how can i explain my situation to all my family and friends?

As i ponder these thoughts i am just grateful that Audley didn’t come out through my pee hole because that really would of hurt.

Audley wakes up demanding to be fed’Jesus being a new dad is hard work’

I cradle Audleys head as i carry him into the kitchen where i put a straw into a carton of milk and and put it in his gob.

He suckles greedily for a few minutes before letting loose a huge burp that shakes the rafters.

‘Daddy i know my name is Audley Creed but can you tell me where i actually come from?

I feel sorry for the little tike and i get a little emotional’Audley i wish that i could answer your question but i cant’

‘We were literally joined at the hip so until i work things out we will just have to do the best we can’

But that isn’t good enough for Audley and he continues to ask question after question.

In frustration i go to put him down on the couch and hopefully he will quieten down when i realize that he is stuck.

Audley and i are still literally joined together and whether him or i like the situation he is now permanently a part of me.

Just then my mobile rings and it is Tery Connelly my 2IC at work.

I am the manager at the local supermarket and right now i wish i was at work instead of standing here arguing with an annoying goiter.

‘Hi Terry sorry i didn’t call you but i was in a car accident this morning and i am OK just a bit shaken up but i should be back in a couple of days’

As i tell Terry a load of bullshit to keep him off my back Audley continues to argue and holler in the background.

‘Bernie i thought that you lived by yourself ?is someone with you?

What? Oh no Terry i just have the TV a little too loud’

‘I will call you tomorrow afternoon to let you know when i will be back ,bye’

I have a hand pressed over Audley’s mouth to keep him quiet and i am tempted to leave it there but when his face goes a little green i relent.

‘Listen up Audley and listen good,i am in charge of this household not you so please keep your mouth closed until you learn some manners’

For once in his short life Audley has nothing to say but i can see that he is seething.

His eyes are burning with fire and i feel his anger towards me.

At that moment i remember a movie i saw years ago called ‘Chucky’s Revenge’

It was about a creepy doll that came to life and went on a murderous rampage.

My balls tingle and my throat constricts when i realize that maybe i have my own Chucky on my hands.

There is no way that i can return to work anytime soon so i ring my area manager and tell him that i need to take some long service leave to sort out a family problem.

‘Torrence if you aren’t back at work first thing tomorrow morning don’t bother coming back at all because your services will no longer be required’

Well i don’t take to kindly to threats so i tell the arrogant prick to stick his job where the sun doesn’t shine.

So now i am unemployed with a mortgage to pay plus i am attached to an argumentative growth who thinks that he is Charles in charge.

After a few weeks of bonding and getting to know each other the tension between us lessens and we become kind of close.

But in the back of my mind i can still see the image of Chucky the killer doll .

Even though it is good to be able to sleep in every day i still have bills to pay so i need to get a new job and quick.

But as i browse the job vacancies i come to the conclusion that there isn’t a great demand for a retail manager with a built in special helper.

Then i have a light bulb moment.

Audley might not be suitable for my old profession but he is perfect to become a built in ventriloquist dummy.

All i have to do is convince Audley Creed.

‘I ain’t no dummy you arsehole so go and fuck yourself’

Oh come on Audley all you have to do is say a few words every now and then so we can make some money’

Because remember that if i don’t eat then neither do you’

Audley’s tiny head wrinkles in concentration as he ponders my statenent but when he realizes that he has little choice he reluctantly nods his head.

We practice our routine over and over for days on end until we get it down pat.

Audley is a natural comedian with what i would call a dark sense of humor.

So after a few try outs at some local pubs where me and Audley get a great reception i decide to audition for Australia’s Got Talent.

The audition goes better than i expected so i am excited to say that ‘Torrence & Creed’ will soon be appearing on national television.

I celebrate the occasion with a few friends at my favorite Italian restaurant where i enjoy a huge plate of lasagne with a glass of red.

Audley has his first taste of pasta and seems to be having a good time then the mood turns sour when he annouces’Bernie i think that our act needs a name change’

‘Torrence & Creed just doesn’t sound right i think that we should be known as ‘Audley Creed& Friend because i am obviously the star of the show’

I can’t believe what i am hearing’Why you ungrateful bag of shit,i literally brought you into this world and you have done nothing but bitch and moan ever since’

Now you have the hide to order a name change unbelievable’

If i wasn’t in a public place i probably have strangled the turd there and then.

Instead i order a shot of tequila and slam it down’Get that into you Audley you annoying little puppet’

I stumble to bed around 3 am drunk but still wide awake and i am pleased to say that Audley is looking a little green around the gills.

‘Jesus Bernie how much did you have to drink last night? i feel i shit’

Just a little mexican ju ju juice Audley and if you don’t start behaving yourself i will feed you a lot more and completely fuck you up’

Audley doesn’t reply and i notice that he has fallen asleep so i to succumb to the inevitable and close my eyes.

But i am soon awoken by a excruciating pain in my stomach.

Audley is clutching a huge knife in his grubby little hands and has used it to slice me open and separate his body from mine.

Now he stands on my chest as a ugly little monster then he slides in my blood and wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes’Thanks for everything Bernie but you have lived out your usefulness but now it is time for you to say goodbye’

I am desperately trying to break the stranglehold as the crazy as bat shit little turncoat continues to talk and squeeze the life out of me.

Luckily i manage to grasp a pair of nail clippers from the bed side table as my breath slips away.

I look into Audley Creed’s eyes as he continues to squeeze and ramble on and i know that i only have a moment before he crushes my Adam’s apple.

The clippers are slipping from my grasp but i manage to keep them in my grasp and plunge them into Audley’s right eye.

He screams in agony and curses me in every language known to mankind.

Then he scampers away leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

His blood glistens in the moonlight like a beacon and i am tempted to follow but i haven’t got the strength plus who knows what other weapons the one eyed midget might have at his disposal.

Then another thought enters my head.

Will the little fucker flee or return to finish me off?

To find out come back and read part two.

Because if you don;t then Audley Creed wont be pleased not pleased at all.


Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you please consider making a donation to go towards my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

The Stairwell


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The summer of 2016 was unseasonably warm in northern England and Alistair Craddick a ruddy cheeked eight year old is outside enjoying the sun.

His favourite place to play is down by a creek that runs behind the house that he shares with his mother Beatrice.

Alistair sometimes hangs out with a couple of school friends but today he is on his lonesome.

A position that he prefers.

Some of the kids at his School are cruel to Alistair calling him nasty names like creep,weirdo,crybaby and mummy’s boy.

But Alistair is none of these things he is just a little shy and a bit different.

This morning he is collecting tadpoles and frogs from the creek and putting them in a jar to take home to cut open with a sharp pocket knife that he nicked from a neighbors shed a few months back.

Every time Alistair uses the knife he thinks about the kids who are mean to him and wishes that he could get some payback and hopefully one day he will.

The dark thoughts that are swirling around his brain has made him very hungry very hungry indeed.

So he puts the lid on the glass jar and heads towards home ;I wonder what mummy has made for lunch?’

They say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and in Alistair’s case the saying is somewhat true.

He likes to read and watch cricket on the telly just like his daddy did before he left home when Alistair was five.

And even though he want admit it he is a bit like his mother having a mean streak and a liking for all kinds of fatty foods.

Beatrice Craddick is a built like a brick outhouse with a temper that could scare the paint from the walls.

She has been described as a cross between nurse Ratched and Agatha Trunchbull a character in the movie Matilda.

And if you ever have the misfortune to meet her you will find it hard to disagree.

Alistair is well aware that his mother can be a little moody so he sneaks inside on tippy toes to try and avoid her wrath but a creaking floorboard gives him away’Is that you Alistair?

‘I hope that you have taken your shoes off because you know that i hate dirt in the house’

Her son cowers at her voice because he knows that she hasn’t finished yet’What are you hiding behind your back Alistair? Don’t you dare tell me that it is another jar of critters because you know what happened last time’

Alistair begins to shake uncontrollably because he remembers all too well what happened the last time he made his mother upset.

His body still hurts from the beating she gave him with a wooden spoon before throwing him in a heap beneath the stairwell.

Alistair looks down at his sneakers afraid to meet her eye then he sneaks a quick look over to the stairwell’Please mummy not the stairwell you know i can’t breathe in there plus last time i saw a cockroach as big as a bird’

‘Stop your whining you little shit before i skin you alive and feed your bones to the dog’

Alistair tries to run but his mother grabs him by the scruff of the neck and drags him to the cupboard door and shoves him inside the stairwell.

The door is locked and Alistair is now in complete darkness with nothing but a jar of critters and his thoughts for company.

Beatrice spends the rest of the day watching the soaps on TV as she devours glass after glass of her favorite red.

The wine muddles her mind and scrambles any rational thoughts until she reaches the point of no return.

Her boyfriend Joe has been nagging her for weeks about moving in with her and Alistair.

But Joe and Alistair have never got along so Beatrice knows that if she is to live happily ever after with Joe than her annoying son will have to disappear forever.

She crushes ten sleeping tablets into a glass of water unlocks the cupboard beneath the stairwell and hands the concoction to her son which the gulps down’Goodbye little one i shall see you again when i to reach the other side’

Alistair has no idea what his loopy mother is talking about but he smiles ‘Goodbye mummy’ than he closes his eyes and drifts into an eternal sleep.

But before he departs this world he whispers’Why mummy why? All i ever wanted was love’

Alistair’s body might of left us but his lost lonely soul is still very much alive.

Six months later

Beatrice Craddick the she devil who murdered her own son and had him entombed beneath the stairwell in her home is a troubled being because her diabolical deed is coming back to haunt her.

A week after she killed her son Beatrice she had a brick wall built to completely seal the stairwell and vanish any thoughts of her son forever.

But yesterday while she was doing some housework Beatrice almost died of fright when she heard a strange noise coming from the stairwell.

Now this morning as she prepares breakfast the same noise emits from her sons final resting place.

She slowly walks over to the stairwell and places an ear to the brick work.

Scritch scratch scritch scratch scritch scratch.

Beatrice thinks that a cat or maybe a hedgehog has somehow found a way into the stairwell and is trying to get out but she isn’t quite sure so she has another listen’Why did you kill me mummy?I always tried to be a good little boy so why mummy why?’

Beatrice let out a strangled yelp before her eyes rolled back in her head than she landed on the floor with a thud that shook the foundations.

In the stairwell Alistair’s tormented soul twirls and twists in midair whilst beneath him a skeletal finger moves back and forth along the inside of the confined space.

Scritch scratch scritch scratch scritch scratch

Joe Brummel,Beatrice’s dead beat boyfriend arrives home to find her sprawled over the living room floor.

He slaps her face a few times and soon after Beatrice comes around’What happened Beatrice did you have a dizzy spell?’

Beatrice is struck mute so all she can do is point a trembling hand towards the stairwell’What do you mean Beatrice tell me right this minute’

Receiving nothing but a strangled grunt in response Joe loses his temper and gives Beatrice a few savages kicks before storming out in a rage.

Beatrice crawls over to the stairwell and whispers’I am sorry Alistair,can you ever forgive me?’She puts her ear against the cold brick and listens but all she hears is

Scritch scratch scritch scratch scratch scratch

Sobbing in pain and regret she goes into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and to give herself a few quite moments to think.

As she stirs a sugar cube into her cuppa the scratching in the stairwell gets louder and more intense.

Beatrice covers her ears in an attempt to block out the noise but the scratching from the stairwell just gets louder and louder.

In utter torment Beatrice scurries over to the stairwell carrying the teaspoon she used to stir her tea and begins to scrape at the mortar between the bricks.

For hours she scrapes away until her knuckles bleed and her shoulders ache but she makes little headway.

Behind the brick wall only four foot away Alistair’s bones jangle and jump as his soul dances around himknowing that a new beginning is nigh.

Beatrice is still scraping furiously at the mortar when an angry voice stops her in her tracks’What are you doing you silly cow?’

Joe stands in the middle of the room with eyes ablaze in anger and Beatrice has had enough of his bullshit’What does it look like you stupid prick i am trying to reach my son’

Joe just laughs’Hahaha what will you do then call the police?’

But Beatrice isn’t backing down ‘Pack your bags Joe and get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back’

‘I am going to the pub’Joe retorts’And when i return i will teach you a lesson that you will never forget’

In the stairwell Alistair’s bones are still doing the merry dance but now both of his bony hands scratch the walls of his prison at a furious rate.

As soon as her arsehole boyfriend leaves Beatrice gathers up all of his clothes and belongings and throws everything out onto the front lawn.

Than she rings the local locksmith to have the locks changed.

Beatrice sobs tears of pain and sorrow knowing that she wasn’t a very good mother to her son.

Than committing the ultimate sin and killing her own flesh and blood and entombing him in the stairwell.

How could she have been so mean and stupid?

Six hours later Joe arrives home in a good mood having won a meat tray and $500 on the poker machines.

But his mood soon turns sour when he notices his stuff strewn all over the front grass.

‘What in the fuck?’

His blood is boiling as he approaches the front door and when his key fails to work he goes ballistic screaming obscenities while he kicks repeatedly at the door.

In the stairwell Alistair’s soul twists and twirls in anger at the commotion.

Twirling counter clockwise the angry soul whips up the contents of the glass jar that Alistair was carrying on the day that he was murdered and one hundred tadpole and frog husks plus an assortment of flies and cockroaches that have littered the stairwell fly through a small gap made by Beatrice’s teaspoon and Alistair’s finger tips and descend on Joe like a biblical plague.

Joe is still swearing and shaking his fists when he is forever silenced when the horde of insects enter his mouth before he has the sense to shut it.

Beatrice rushes to the stairwell as the brick wall begins to crumble and fall.

A bony hand emerges first quickly followed by a skeleton in a somewhat human form.

Beatrice screams in total horror when she recognizes the being as her son Alistair.

‘Hello mummy have you missed me?’


Keep an eye out for part two coming soon

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you please consider making a donation to go towards my dream of becoming a fulltime writer, Thanks again Steven.

‘Ribbons of Blood (4) Dented and Demented’


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This story began about a year ago when the acclaimed novelist Victor Bradstreet suffering from a severe case of writers block retreated to his cabin in rural Virginia in an attempt to clear his mind.

Close to his destination Victor stopped at a general store to stock up with the essentials.

While walking the aisles he spotted an old olivetti typewriter sitting on a clearance table and on a whim he purchased the machine.

A decision that Victor would soon regret.

As he slept on the first night at the cabin the olivetti came to life and typed a novel that would go on to become a bestseller.

In return the typewriter demanded a taste of Victors blood and on refusa the murderous machine strangled Victor with its ink ribbons and ate the evidence.

Victors publisher Penelope Clutterbuck after hearing about Victors demise drove up to the cabin where she was also dispatched by the olivetti and devoured.

A local detective Lucas Peterson was sent to the scene to investigate but he along with Victors daughter Abigail were both also killed by the typewriter leaving not a trace behind.

Detectives Godley and Creme rushed to the cabin when their colleague failed to report in and after searching the cabin found it empty so they summoned a K9 unit.

Trooper Clyde Ybanez and his trusty German shepherd Monty arrive and the dogs nose picks up the scent of the missing policeman

Monty bounds straight inside to the kitchen where the olivetti sits looking all sweet and innocent.

Godley and Creme tease Trooper Ybanez ‘Well Clyde your stupid mutt has sniffed out a typewriter you must be proud of yourself?’

But the tune soon changes when the when the olivetti who cant resist the tang of fresh meat attacks Monty with its ribbons of blood and eats the canine there and then.

A SWAT team storms the cabin and restrain the blood thirsty machine with chains to the kitchen table and transport the murderer to a maximum security prison in Langley.

After a few days held in isolation the olivetti sweet talks a prison guard into its cell with the promise of good conversation and a cigarette.

But the demon machine reneges on the promise and eats the guard to ease its hunger pains.

The prison is thrown into lock down and the warden orders that a firing squad be assembled and at 6 am the following morning the olivetti is bind folded and blown to smithereens.

To make sure that the typewriter never gets the chance to kill again the metal shards are collected taken to a nearby steelworks where the shrapnel is thrown into a furnace and melted down into steel batons.

A few weeks later a steel Campbells soup can falls from a shelf in Denver Colorado and a small piece of steel breaks away and is blown towards Springwood Virginia.


Trooper Clyde Ybanez is at his house training his new K9 unit newbie a six month old Beagle named Buster who after only two weeks training is showing a lot of potential.

Clyde is still grieving the lose of his beloved German shepherd Monty who was devoured by a hungry olivetti.

Ybanez will never forget the day when he lost his loyal companion and most of all he is still pissed off over being ridiculed by the two cruel Detectives Godley and Creme.

Later that day Clyde visits his local bar in Springwood Virginia where he drowns his sorrow and pain with shots of Tequila and his mood turns sour when Godley and Creme enter and take a seat.

Ybanez knows that if he is spotted the asshole Detectives will make a scene so his downs his drink and disappears into the night.

As the trooper makes his way home 2000 miles away the small piece of steel that detached from the soup can in Colorado luckily gets stuck in the tread of a passing trucks rear tyre.

The driver of the semi has just delivered a load of vegetables and is now heading home to his home near Springwood.

All over the mid west thousands of tiny pieces of steel travel the highways and byways on a pilgrimage to Virginia.

Some of the shards are blown toward their objective by unseasonal winds while other bibs and bobs of steel hitch hike or travel by any available means until all 2309 pieces of steel reach Virginia and gather together in the basement of 25 Lowry Lane Springwood the very address of Trooper Ybanez.

Inside Clyde is sitting in the dark nursing a large whisky sour still steaming over his treatment at the hands of Godley and Creme.

The alcohol enters his bloodstream like a thunderbolt destroying any semblance of peace that remains in his body.

All Clyde needs is revenge against his tormentors all he has to do is come up with a foolproof plan.

After polishing off the bottle of liquid fire Clyde goes to bed with the dark thought embedded deep in his brain.

When his head hits his pillow a sinister smile lights up his face.

He will torture and maim Godley and Creme until they beg for mercy and once he is satisfied he will blow the two fuckers away on a bullet train to hell.

As Trooper Ybanez sleeps the 2309 slithers of steel begin to meld and intertwine in a macabre dance of metal as the tiny fragments become one.

Clyde wakes with a mouth as dry as the Sahara and a pounding headache.

After a quick visit to the bathroom he swallows a few aspirin and a cup of coffee he begins to feel a lot better.

But that soon changes when he arrives at work and runs into Creme in the change room of police headquarters ‘Well well well if it isn’t the master dog trainer himself’

‘How is your new dog coming along?

‘I hope he is better than your last mutt who couldn’t find a turd in a asshole’

Ybanez can feel his blood boiling as he listens to the Detectives words.

All he wants to do is squeeze the life from the loud mouth but police HQ isn’t the right place so he pushes past the cop and calls out to Buster his new K9 dog.

Buster is good but he isn’t in the same league as Monty but Clyde knows that the dog is still capable of becoming a good K9 unit dog .

While Clyde is at work a resurrection of sorts is happening in the basement of his house.

A misshapen form has taken its first breath of a new beginning.

If you look closely you might just recognize the shape as an olivetti typewriter.

The machine is bent and twisted out of shape but it is still a very dangerous beast.

Trooper Ybanez arrives home from work exhausted and after a quick meal and shower he goes to bed for the night.

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

Clyde’s ears prick up at the sound of pure evil.

He sits up in bed willing the sound to go away but it doesn’t.

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

How is it possible for that typewriter to still exist?

The murderous olivetti was blown apart by a firing squad then smelted down and turned into a steel can.

Maybe it is just a nightmare and he will wake up and all will be well in his world.

But Clyde knows that he is wide awake and that he has a huge problem on his hands.

He puts on his slippers and ventures down stairs to his basement where the sound is emanating from.

As soon as he turns on the light Clyde knows that he is in the middle of a real life nightmare.

Because sitting on his workbench is the olivetti looking a bit rough around the edges.

Even though the machine is twisted and dented the typewriter is mad and slightly demented.

Kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

Clyde’s heart is beating double time in his chest as he watches the keys tapping madly.

But with no ink ribbons intact no words appear.

Then a diabolical thought enters the troopers mind’Maybe i can use this killer typewriter to my own advantage’

‘Why should i kill Godley and Creme when i have a manic machine at my disposal?’

The olivetti is still chatting away as Clyde creeps away’Don’t worry Mr Olivetti i shall return with brand new ink ribbons and you can help me deal with a little problem’

Once upstairs Clyde goes online and goggles olivetti ink ribbons and after a quick search he purchases a set of ribbons for $29.95 plus tax.

And two days later a parcel is delivered to his door.

The olivetti has killed and eaten four people plus his precious Monty so he is very wary as he descends the basement stairs’Her you go Mr Olivetti i have brought you new ink ribbons so now we can have a proper conversation’

Clyde ties the ribbons onto the end of a long fishing rod and very carefully lowers the ribbons of death into the mouth of the olivetti.

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

‘Hello Trooper Ybanez ,so we meet again’

‘Let me begin by saying how sorry i am about the death of your dog but he was delicious’

Do you have anymore tasty treats for me?’

Clyde blood begins to boil as the reads the words but he swallows his rage and talks directly to the crazy machine’Yes i do happen to have two more treats for you i just have to find them and bring them to you undetected’

With that Clyde storms away leaving the typewriter frustrated and hungry as hell.

Three days later Clyde enters his basement empty handed and in a filthy mood because Godley and Creme are away working on a case.

While he was at work the typewriter has been busy and Clyde picks up a sheet of paper that the mangled machine had spat out onto the floor

Clyde picks up the page and hurries back upstairs”I am glad that i managed to find you Trooper Ybanez because i think that we could become the ultimate deadly duo,the new Bonnie and Clyde if you will’

‘I know that you harbor a deep hatred toward two of your colleagues at work Detectives Kevin Godley and Lou Creme’

‘After i help you eliminate your enemies we will travel the country from coast to coast killing anyone who gets in our path’

Clyde reads the letter over and over throughout the night and comes to a decision.

He has no intention of joining the olivetti on a killing spree so once the two Detectives are taken care of he will dispose of the typewriter and return to a normal life if that is possible.

He opens the basement door and calls down’You have a deal Mr Olivetti ,first we kill Godley and Creme and then i will join you on a road trip that will tear this country a new one’

Down on the workbench the olivetti rubs its brand new ink ribbons in glee.

It can almost taste the blood of its next meal and at midnight the typewriter shuts down for the night safe in the knowledge that tomorrow promises to be a very good day indeed.

Upstairs Clyde has tossed and turned all night and at 5am he stubles out of bed weary and wired.

As he eats his breakfast his mind is doing cartwheels as he struggles to figure out how he and the olivetti can kill the Detectives without raising any suspicions.

Then suddenly the answer pops into his head.

If Mohammad can’t go to the mountain than take the mountain to Mohammad.

He enters the basement silently and as the typewriter snoozes he picks it up and carries it out to his car and straps it into the back seat.

He drives away in a daze until he reaches his destination a seedy motel on the edge of town.

After placing the salivating machine on the coffee table he phones the Springwood police department’My name is Carlos and i have information regarding the murders that happened up at Victor Bradstreet’s cabin’

‘I will only talk with Detective’s Godley and Creme and tell them to come alone or i will leave’

‘Room 6 Desert Sands Motel now’

After haging up Trooper Ybanez addresses the typewriter’Okay Mr Olivetti your next meal is on its way ,please eat at your leisure and clean up after yourself’

Leaving the door unlocked Clyde walks out to the car park to wait for the two victims to arrive.

Monty will be avenged.

Ten minutes later a squad car squeals to a stop outside room 6 and the occupants race inside without knocking.

A apprehensive Trooper Ybanez waits for half an hour before he to enters room 6.

The walls are spotted with droplets of blood but the ink ribbons are busy soaking up every last drop and five minutes later no trace of the Detectives remain.

On the coffee table the Typewriter burps in satisfaction and the meal has done its job because now the machine looks all ship shape and brand new.

Clyde is tempted to leave the murderous machine behind and go home but he doesn’t want put any innocent people in danger plus his fingerprints are all over the machine.

So he picks it up and drives home unseen.

On returning to his residence Clyde carries the olivetti downstairs and throws it into a dark corner of the basement.’I leave you now Mr Olivetti ,this basement is now your tomb so may you rot and rust for eternity you good for nothing chunk of metal’

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

The olivetti is furious as it pounds away at the keys but with no paper in the mechanism all it is doing is talking to itself so the irate machine shuts up to live and fight another day.

The disappearance of Godley and Creme hits the headlines nationwide and the FBI is brought to help with the investigation.

Trooper Ybanez is at home surviving on whisky and cigarettes half expecting the feds to break down the front door or the carnivorous typewriter to creep upstaies and strangle him in his sleep.

This goes on for three weeks until Clyde can’t take it anymore.

If he is to keep his sanity the olivetti will have to go away and this time for good.

Before opening the basement door Clyde takes a deep breathe sincerely hoping that the evil fucker is dead.

And as he descends the stairs it looks like his prayer has been answered because the typewriter looks deceased covered in rust and cobwebs.

Clyde quickly wraps the olivetti in three layers of duct tape to ensure that the deadly ribbons of blood cant escape.

Once again he carries the machine out to his car and drives for 15 miles until he reaches an isolated campground that he used to visit with his parents when he was a kid.

The one thing that Clyde hated about the place was sitting on the seat of the stinking deep drop shitter.

He had nightmares about falling 100 feet and landing on a steaming pile of prehistoric crap.

As Clyde nears his objective he has failed to notice that the layers of duct tape are beginning to fray and tear at the edges.

He pulls into the empty car park of the campground and retrieves the bundle from the back seat.

The stench from the shitter hits him like a ton of bricks but Clyde pushes on and a few minutes later he arrives at the temple of poo.

Opening the door he lifts the typewriter above his head and throws it down into the stinking effluent.

Satisfied that the machine is deep in the muck he turns away to begin the next chapter of his life when he hears a muffled

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

‘OH SHIT’ he screams and desperately tries to run but the ribbons of blood wrap themselves around his throat and Clyde is pulled towards the temple opening and silently he vanishes into the brown.

Will Clyde survive his ordeal or will he succumb to the fecal stream.

To find out come back and read the next installment and bring lots of toilet paper.


Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you please consider making a donation to go towards my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.



, , , , , ,

Ollie Wrigley is a thirteen year old bookworm and he is quite content with his lot despite a bad case of acne and hair sprouting here there and everywhere as puberty hits his microscopic body.

He spends his days munching on books and magazines of any genre and description but his favorite genres are thrillers where he can chew away and escape to a life full of danger and intrigue plus crime fiction where he can solve the case before reaching the final page.

The year is 1996 and Ollie’s parents are doing their best to keep their son well fed and happy.

To celebrate his 13th birthday they give him an old set of Funk & Wagnell’s encyclopedia to set munch on for many years to come.

As Ollie devours the volumes he gets he necessary roughage and fiber a growing bookworm needs plus getting an education at the same time.

When his parents aren’t watching Ollie sneaks off to his room where he has stashed a selection of horror novels plus a few well used porno magazines.

He reads a few chapters of ‘Cujo’ by the master Stephen King before settling down with an old copy oh Hustler that he has read many times before to great effect.

Ollie is really going for it when unfortunately for him he has failed to notice that he has wandered too close to the spine of the mag and his nostrils unknowingly take in a shit load of binding glue

He was spaced out for over a week so no more porno mag’s or sniffing glue for him.

At least not for a while anyway.

Just before his 16th birthday Ollie and his folks moved upstairs to the attic to get away from the hustle and bustle of a busy household but before they get a chance to settle in a big arse truck pulls up outside and the family and their possessions are transported to god knows where.

Ollie is scared out of his mind not knowing where they are being taken because he has read stories about concentration camps and gas chambers from WW 2.

His Father tells him to stop letting his imagination get the better of him but Ollie is still worried.

But he was worried about nothing because the truck parks out front of a huge place called ‘Old Kuntz’ retirement village and Ollie has a good feeling about his new home and he calms down.

His parents are relieved as well and soon they are deposited in their new digs on a book shelf in the communal library.

The perfect place for a family of bookworms to live.

A week after the move Ollie ventures out to explore his new surroundings and soon he is devouring a dusty old edition of Dickens ‘Great Expectations’.

It is heavy going but Ollie enjoys reading about a time long gone and the history of the period.

But he is soon brought back to reality when ‘Great Expectations is thrown onto a trolley leaving the little book worm hanging on for dear life.

His stomach lurches and his sphincter tightens as the trolley sharply rounds a bend.

Than his world stabilizes when the trolley stops at the bed of a little old lady and the Dickens classic is placed into her hands.

Ollie has read enough Dickens to last him a life time so he quickly grows bored as the lady turns over familiar pages so he slides down the binding ( holding his nose in case any of that pesky but soothing glue is nearby) and lands on the arm of the lady with a taste for the classics.

Ollie doesn’t quite know where he is going as the wriggles his way past hair folicles and bumpy age spots.

Than the elderly resident raises her arm to scratch her ear and Ollie grabs the chance to explore unknown territories.

He has a look around for an available food source but nothing is at hand so he wriggles forward and enters an ancient ear hole.

Ollie looks around in awe at the size of the huge cavern but there are no books laying around to snack on and he needs to feed soon or face starvation.

He notices a sticky brown substance growing on the walls of the cavern in abundance.

Ollie pokes his tongue out and has a taste ‘Not bad’ he mutters to himself and begins eating his first luncheon of icky sticky ear wax.

Five minutes Ollie is bursting at the seams and he couldn’t move an inch even if he wanted to.

So he closes his eyes and has a nanna nap.

He wakes an hour later feeling refreshed but strangely still hungry.

The ear wax has left him feeling empty and hollow like you do an hour after eating a shit load of Chinese food.

Ollie knows exactly what he needs and that is a book of substance that will satisfy his hunger and keep him alive another day.

But first he needs to escape from the cave of wax.

He ventures to the edge and looks around for some means of transportation.

Then by chance a single strand of grey hair drifts close and Ollie clings on and abseils down and lands safely where he quickly feeds on a musty old readers digest magazine.

The magazine has hit the spot and Ollie lives to fight another day.

It isn’t easy being a microscopic bookworm with a metabolism faster than a hummingbird on speed.

As he digests his meal Ollie gazes around the common room where a hundred old people sit around watching TV or playing bingo as they all wait for their final curtain to fall.

As Ollie watches the grey brigade fill in the day he remembers the soft gooey ear wax from yesterday and he wants some more and he wants it now.

He knows that he wouldn’t be able to climb all the way up to an ear hole and the treasure trove inside.

And as luck would have it a mosquito lands nearby and Ollie whispers in her ear’Take me to the nearest ear hole and i will be eternally grateful’

The mozzie takes off with Ollie on board and a minute later the winged beauty lands safely close to the entrance to the honey pot.

The insect dips her wing and Ollie slides down to enjoy his afternoon delight.

But when his body touches skin a movement catches his eye and SLAM a wrinkly hand squashes the mozzie in a cloud of blood and guts.

Luckily Ollie has managed to roll clear in the nick of time and he enters the cave of pleasure to have another taste of waxy heaven


Ollie had fallen asleep after his feast and is jolted awake by the loud noise.

But he soon realizes that he is hearing the voice of a man talking to someone about the good old days.

The voices echoes around the ear canal and Ollie is soothed by the sound.

He relaxes completely as he listens to the man narrate his life story to anyone who will listen.

Ollie is transfixed by the old timers story from his early years to a happy marriage to the love of his life .

A career as a train driver before ultimately getting old and ending up in a retirement home.

Father time catches up to everybody in the end.

When he man stopped talking it suddenly occurred to Ollie that he had just listened to his first audio story.

A fantastic kindle surprise.

Ollie squirms outside and has a little rest as he contemplates his next move.

When he looks to his right he notices twin openings in the middle of the mans face so he wriggles over for a closer look.

The enters the opening through a forest of thick nose hair and finds himself in a small space with blobs of green stuff everywhere.

The snot is very inviting so Ollie has a little taste ‘Not bad not bad at all’


Please don’t put a wayward finger into your ear to satisfy an itch because a bookworm might be on there having a snack.

And please please don’t pick your nose.


Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you please consider making a donation to go towards my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Mr Big Cheese


, , , , , , , ,

Deep down beneath the sewer tunnels of Manhattan a huge colony of rats scurry around feeding on the flotsam & jetsam that has floated down from the city above.

The leader of the pack is a huge big balled rodent who calls himself Mr big cheese.

He is stronger then a vintage cheddar with two sharp incisors that can bite through steel and keep his enemies in line.

Mr big cheese might be the top rat in Manhattan but he is Mr nobody in the other borough’s of New York city and that digs deep in his craw because Mr big cheese has ambitions to rule the city for many years.

But at the moment he has a more immediate problem and that is the human assholes on the surface who continue to set traps and lay down poisons in an attempt to kill as many rats as possible.

All the rats are doing is feeding on the trash that the humans discard so they can feed themselves and their families.

So Mr big cheese sends word to the other head rats of the other borough’s with the intention of holding a summit meeting in central park to discuss the threat from above.

Plus he is keen to size up the other leaders to see who is ripe for the taking.

Mr big cheese arrives early and he is soon joined by Mr feta the leader of the rats in Staten Island.

He is big boned and sturdy but the word from the island suggests that even though he might look strong on the surface but underneath he is fragile and crumbles easily under pressure.

So Mr big cheese rubs his whiskers in glee as he greets the newcomer knowing that he will be easily be manipulated.

And the same could be said about Mr brie from Brooklyn and the leader of the rat pack in the Bronx Mr Camembert who rule their borough’s with an iron fist but are soft and gooey on the inside.

The four rats talk among themselves while they wait for Mr Parmigiano to arrive from Queens.

Then after keeping his comrades waiting for over an hour he strolls in with two bodyguards in tow

Known for being strong and sharp Mr Parmigiano doesn’t suffer fools and he to has high ambitions.

‘Jesus H Christ’ Mr big cheese mutters to himself ‘Who does this asshole think he is?’But he puts his first impressions to one side and calls the meeting to order.Thank you all for coming on short notice but i fear that trouble is brewing’

‘The human population on the surface has ramped up their attack on our fellow rat all over this fine city’

‘They are setting more traps and laying down poison all over the city and i am afraid that there is more to come and my constituents in Manhattan are being killed in record numbers’

Mr big cheese can see that his words have upset Mr Feta, Brie and Camembert but Mr Parmigiano just looks back in defiance without saying a word and Mr big cheese knows that he will need to keep a close eye on the king pin from the Bronx because there is only one rat to rule New York city and hold peace talks with the humans above and that is him and only him Mr Big Cheese.

‘Please go back to your borough’s and tell every rat to watch what they eat and be wary of their surroundings to avoid any danger’

Just as he is about to call an end to the meeting Mr Parmigiano interupts proceedings. ‘ Excuse me but who are you to tell us what we should do to protect the rat’

‘So far you have done all the talking but now it is now turn’

‘Humans have been trying to exterminate us rats for centuries and all you suggest is for them to watch their surroundings’

Mr Big Cheese bristles as his main opponent as mayor of New York City continues to speak’We need to go on the offensive not sit around with a finger up our butts’

The rat community needs strong leadership so i propose that we have a vote to determine the best course of action to ensure that the rat population of this city not only survives but prospers’

‘A vote for Mr so called big cheese with his policy of talk and talk and hope the problem goes away or vote for me where i propose that the rat attacks the humans on the surface and put them in their place before the rat of New York is completely wiped out’

Mr Big Cheese cant believe what he is hearing.

He called this meeting to strengthen his position and hopefully seize total control but now this upstart from the Bronx threatens not only his hope for higher office but the very existence of the rat in New York.

Because he knows that to take on the human in a fight to the death would be a huge mistake.

But a ballot has been tabled so the very future of the rat has been taken out of his hands.

And fifteen minutes later a jubilant Mr Parmigiano raises a claw in victory he has defeated Mr Big Cheese by a vote of 4 to 1.

Mr Big Cheese can see the writing on the wall so he silently slips away with his tail between his legs beaten but not defeated.

His withdrawal hasn’t gone unnoticed because Mr Parmigiano watches the retreating figure with his beady little eyes knowing that he hasn’t seen the last of Mr Big Cheese.

And what Mr Big Cheese didn’t know is that Mr Parmigiano has been bullying and harassing the three soft rats behind the scenes in the hope that this day would come.

And now his day is here.

Brie,Feta and Camembert listen in fright as Mr Parmigiano lays down the law ‘First of all when you return to your borough’s tell your rat’s to breed like they haven’t bred before because we will surely suffer a lot of fatalities in our fight against the human scum’

Secondly every single rat under your control is to climb to the surface and bite and claw as many people as they can because with the spread of disease and pestilence we will defeat the human and New York City will be ours’

‘Disobey me at your own peril’

Feta,Brie and Camembert huddle close together beneath a park bench in fear long after Mr Parmigiano has gone back to the Bronx.

What the sick fuck is proposing is sheer madness because the rats of New York have been feasting on the garbage that the wasteful humans have been throwing away since Christopher Columbus set foot on dry land.

And now the power hungry Parmigiano wants them to literally bite the hand that feeds.

But the three rats know that they are to soft and crumbly to offer much resistance to the hard as nails Parmigiano so they bid each other goodbye and then rush back to their borough to obey his command.

Over the following days the rats in Staten Island ,Brooklyn,Queens and the Bronx become more aggressive attacking and biting people on the streets and the bravest rats even enter homes and schools scratching and biting the elderly and the children of the city.

Ten days after the fateful meeting in central park a bus in the Bronx carrying 75 passengers crashed killing all on board after the driver was bitten on the neck by a kamikaze rat

In Staten Island a multitude of public buildings have been forced to close due to thousands of rats entering and biting people in broad daylight.

Over in Queens the instigator of the mayhem Mr Parmigiano is perched on the edge of a long abandoned public toilet like a king sitting on a throne.

He is pleased with the panic and chaos that his fellow rats have been causing all over the city.

All except Manhattan of course ,where Mr Big Cheese still holds sway.

Parmigiano smiles an evil two tooth grin because he has plans for Mr Big Cheese.

In Manhattan the rat at the center of Mr Parmigiano’s thoughts can feel his ears burning.

Mr Big Cheese is pleased that the turd from Queens is talking about him because he has no plans to pull up stakes and move to Florida.

New York is his city and he will defend it to his dying day.

But he can’t fight Parmigiano by himself so he calls an extraordinary meeting inviting Feta,Brie and Camembert.

And the following morning the three rats meet Mr Big Cheese once again in central park.

He welcomes his guests then gets right down to business ‘My fellow rats you have witnessed first hand the reckless behaviour of Parmigiano and his wanton attacks against the human and believe me that if the attacks continue then the leaders of the people will fight back and when they do i fear for the life of every rat in the big apple’

”We need to combine the forces of our armies and strike Parmigiano hard until he is no longer a threat to the very survival of the rat in this city’

Mr Brie’s whiskers twitch and he nervously squeaks’Mr Big Cheese you are a very popular leader in Manhattan who’s heart is in the right place’

‘And even though Parmigiano is a complete lunatic who i fear will bring this city to it’s knees if he pushes the human too far but he is bigger and stronger than and i don;t dare stand against him’

Feta and Camembert nods their heads in agreement and Feta pipes up’We all know that Parmigiano is a total asshole but he has threatened the lives our family and friends if we don’t follow his order’

‘I cant put my family and others in danger so i regret to say Mr Big Cheese that you are on your own’

And before Mr Big Cheese can reply the three soft and crumbly rats scurry back from whence they came.

Mr Big Cheese shakes his head in frustration , make no mistake he wants to be the absolute ruler of the rat kingdom but he wants to achieve that goal in a peaceful manner and not with violence and stand over tactics like that cruel Italian rat Mr fucking Parmigiano.

As he ponders his next move Mr Big Cheese remembers a day a few years back when he was on his way home from school when he was confronted by a huge Siamese cat who had intentions to eat him alive.

Then out of nowhere a huge grey rat with more pac then tupac lunged at the cat and bit it on the ass.

The Siamese took off like a bat out of hell screeching so loud it was heard all the way over in New Jersey.

The rat was named Mr Stillson because he was as hard as nails plus there was a smell about him that was both pleasant and very nasty indeed.

Stillson is just the very rat the Mr Big Cheese needs right now so he the feelers out and soon finds out that Stillson hasn’t been seen in months but his last known hang out was an old washing machine in a junk yard down near the airport.

Mr Big Cheese finds the junk yard with no trouble and is pleased to see Stillson holed up in a rusty front loader.

But his old friend hasn’t aged well and now appears frail and weak so after ten minutes of small talk Mr Big Cheese bids farewell then he scurries away.

Stillson as his friend from the old days disappears from view.

He knows that he isn’t at his best right now what with his arthritis and a dodgy knee plus his vintage tang doesn;t make him the best rat to hang with but ‘I am not dead and buried yet’ so Stillson grabs a ruck sack and follows Mr Big Cheese from a discreet distance.

Mr Big Cheese is running down the curb of main street Manhattan when he skids to a stop outside a department store with a big ass TV in a display window.

On the screen is a talking head delivering the six o’clock news’Word has just come in that the rat problem has escalated to dangerous levels with reports of over 20 thousand people visiting hospitals with rat bites and some are also being treated for rabies and other rat borne diseases’

‘And even more disturbingly there are reports of over one thousand fatalities so far due to rat attacks ‘

‘Mayor Brimball has told CBN News that he is monitoring the situation and has contacted President Chump regarding potentially sending in the national guard to eradicate the rat scourge once and for all’

‘Now here is Ken Knight with the weather.Ken’

Mr Big Cheese is horrified with the turn of events and now there is only one option left ,he needs to kill Parmigiano before the leads the rat into total catastrophe.

He changes direction and heads toward Queens where he will take on Parmigiano.

Mr Big Cheese is concentrating so hard on his mission that he doesn’t notice an old frail rat following close behind.

When he reaches the bowels of Queens Mr Big Cheese has no trouble locating Parmigiano’s bunker because his high pitched squeaks echo around the tunnels like Hitler with his balls in a vice.

Mr Big Cheese has no need for goggle maps because he now knows exactly where the Italian turncoat is.

He uses his two big front teeth to gnaw through the concrete wall of the bunker and soon he is inside but he is immediately seized by six rogue rats and tied to a pole ‘Well well well what do we have here’ snarls Mr Parmigiano’If it isn’t the teeny weeny Mr Big Cheese’

‘Did you honestly believe that you could stop me from taking control of the city’

Mr big Cheese struggles against the restraints but he soon tires.

Then his eyes begin to water as a god awful stench fills the bunker .

‘Sorry about that’ says Stillson as he enters the bunker ‘I have been farting all day and let me tell you that that is the last time that i eat a curry five days past its use by date’

Stillson is mighty proud of himself and to add insult to injury he rubs a gland on his chest releasing a vintage cheesy smell that makes breathing all but impossible.

Parmigiano and his lackeys run toward the border in an effort to reach the safety of Canada.

And they are quickly joined by millions of rats who stampede in a desperate attempt the stench.

Stillson unties his friend and Mr Big Cheese grimaces in response ‘I forgot that you could let rip with the best of them you really know how to cut the cheese’

Then the two rats run from the bunker before they are overcome and they only just make it.

It is now six weeks after the stench rumbled through the tunnels beneath New York and some of them are still uninhabitable.

Mr Big Cheese is safely holed up beneath a bridge in Chicago while Parmigiano is licking his wounds in a town across the border close to Niagara Falls.

But make no mistake they both have a burning desire to return to the city of their birth and reign supreme.


Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you please consider making a donation to go towards my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Stories After Midnight ( 2 )


, , , , ,

My name is Warren Bigelow and in part one of this story i told you how i got a job after visiting my local library.

Desperate for work i stumbled across a business card posted on the community notice board.

The employer apex industries were seeking a handyman who also liked to read.

Well i would read books 24/7 if i could but i am not very handy on the tools so i replaced the business card and made my way home.

Imagine my surprise when the next day i received a phone call from the owner of apex industries Daphne Pincombe offering me the job sight unseen. ( I still don’t know how she got hold of my phone number )

I explain to her that i am not very good working with tools ‘That is alright Warren i just know that you are the perfect person to fill the position’

So i find myself accepting her job offer and i arrive at my new workplace a little before midnight .

I am greeted by an elderly lady who introduces herself ‘Hello Warren pleased to meet you and i don’t mean to offend you but you have been visiting me in my dreams for the last few months so it is nice to finally meet you in person’

To say that i was shocked and a little creeped out would be an understatement but i stay silent and listen as she continues to talk ‘Dont worry about the handyman part of the job description it is really your ability with words that got you the job’

‘Every night we will be visiting clients in their homes at hospital or wherever your special skills are needed’

‘And after many years experience i have found that after midnight is the best time to achieve maximum results’

Daphne reaches out and grabs my hand’Warren i am sure that you have noticed that i am rather old and when i die i want you to carry on my legacy for many years to come’

So tell me all about your special power Warren’

I have no idea what Daphne is talking about’What special power?

‘Don’t worry Warren you obviously haven;t had the need to use it yet but i have seen your special power in action when you visited me in my dreams and i am sure you will utilize it when you have to’

The first three weeks at my new job went fast with nothing out of the ordinary happening but that all changed one night when we visited a young girl in hospital who had lost the will to live after a horse riding accident left her a quadriplegic.

After reading to the frightened teen all night with no effect the girl closed her eyes and said goodbye to the world.

Well i was having none of that so with not really knowing what i was doing i pointed my fingers towards her and blue sparks flew from my finger tips striking her with recharged energy that pulled her out of the funk leaving her sleeping peacefully.

Around Christmas time Daphne arrived at work in a distressed state and after drinking a strong cup of coffee she told me the reason why ‘Warren a evil mass rapist and murderer from the 1920’s named Cedric Otis invaded my dreams and turned it into a living nightmare’

Warren Otis died by in 1947 after being sentenced to death and soon after he died strapped to an electric chair’

‘Otis might be dead Warren but his demonic spirit still wanders the dark corridors of the afterlife and every now and then he enters my dreams in an attempt to kill me because he sees my goodness as a threat and i am afraid that if he visits me again he will be successful in his quest’

Daphne soon after becomes a shell of herself barely able to function and fight off the evil fucker Cedric Otis’

Will Warren be able to save Daphne in time ? Or will his entire world br turned upside down/

To find the answers to these questions just continue to read.


It is with a heavy heart that i tell that my dear friend Daphe Pincombe passed away last night.

She will be greatly missed my me and also the people she has saved with her words of wisdom over many years.

Just before she died Daphne held my hand and said’ Remember Warren that Cedric Otis will target you now that my time is nigh so beware’

Then Daphne closed her eyes and passed over to the other side and not for the first time i soon realized .

A few days later i received a letter from Daphne’s solicitor asking me to attend his office for the reading of her last will and testament.

And imagine my surprise when upon arrival he informed me that i was Daphne’s sole beneficiary.

Now i own Apex Industries along with Daphne’s home plus various shares and annuities.

Daphne and i were only acquainted for a few months but she obviously saw me as some sort of kindred spirit so now my only desire is to live up to her expectations and make her proud.

Ten days later i arrived at Apex Industries to start a new chapter in my life but more importantly carry on Daphne’s legacy.

Walking into my new office a wave of fear overtook me when it hit me that i was completely out of my depth but i should have known that Daphne wouldn’t have left me in the lurch because sitting front and center on her desk was a single sheet of paper.

Dear Warren thank you for being a great friend and employee, sorry to leave you so soon but i am sure that we will meet again one day.’

‘I don’t mean to scare you Warren but you want gain new clients via email or phone instead you will hear voices when you daydream and while you sleep at night’

‘Please don’t be alarmed Warren because the voices wish you no harm they belong to people who have died and their only concern is for a relative or friend who are having suicidal thoughts or who need some strong words of advice before they self harm’

And understand Warren that you want be able to save everyone in distress because some people will be beyond your reach’

Plus Warren please heed my earlier warning concerning Cedric Otis because he will sometimes visit your dreams and thoughts in an attempt to mess with your mind’

Otis is the meanest fucker currently residing here on the other side and his wish is to gather enough souls so he can once again walk among the living causing pain and sorrow to innocents along his travels’

‘I am sorry that i have placed you in danger Warren but you are the only person capable of killing Otis once and for all’

‘Use your words and super power wisely because Otis has been slain three times already but the arsehole refuses to die’

PS If you need any help just holler’

It has now been three weeks since Daphne left this world and in that time no one has talked to me in my dreams or thoughts and i have to admit that i am getting a little worried because like everybody else i have bills to pay and put food on the table.

I decide to take a nap on the office couch to pass the day and hopefully a client will visit my sleep and offer me a chance to show off my skills.

And i am in luck because a scratchy voice enters my head and begins to talk ‘Warren my name is May Collins and i died in 2006 aged 74 years and i have been watching over my family ever since and lately i have become concerned about my niece Sharon who it seems wants to join me over here in eternal motion’

‘She is only 26 years old and has a lot of living to do before she comes to stay with me so please help me if you can Warren’

I wake not quite knowing where i am but i remember the voice in my dream then notice that i have written a name and address on a notepad.

So i take a quick shower to shake off the cobwebs before i drive over to Parramatta where Sharon Collins resides and just after midnight i use my trusty screwdriver to enter her humble abode.

Sharon is asleep in her bed and judging by the empty wine bottles strewn around the room she has had a hard night.

May’s niece obviously has some problems but i am here to perform a service and hopefully save her from herself so i reach into my backpack for a copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’ and begin to read.

Just as begin chapter ten of Sharons favourite book a small smile creases her face and her eyes flicker behind the closed lids.

My reading is having the desired affect so i finish the book then lean close and whisper in her ear ‘Sharon your Aunt May has been in touch and even though she loves you deeply she doesn’t want you to cross over until you are old and grey’

‘She wants you to be happy and enjoy a long life’ Sharon nods in understanding and for the first time in years has a peaceful sleep.

Over the following couple of months i have travelled all over the state visiting people in need after a deceased relative contacted me for assistance.

I have read books by Stephen King ,James Patterson ,Anne Rice plus old classics by Dickens ,Robert Louis Stevenson and Poe plus a personal message for them from beyond the grave.

And so far i haven’t had to use my super power plus Cedric Otis has been conspicuously absent.

Having dead people invading my daydreams and visiting me while i sleep has started to wear thin and is affecting my health.

I know that i am doing good and helping people in their hour of need but the constant invasion of my head space is really taking a toll.

Everytime my mind wanders a voice enters my brain asking for my help regarding a relative who wishes to enter the after life before their due date.

I want to help but i am only one man and i am starting to believe that i have taken on too much.

But i keep on helping night after night even though i am feeling worn out and then things take a turn for the worse one rainy night in December when an evil voice turns a dream into a nightmare ‘Hello motherfucker stop interfering with the food chain’

‘If the tortured souls and broken hearted want to venture over to my side of the fence then let them’

‘Because if you keep sticking your nose into my business i will bite off your tongue and eat it’

‘Lets how well you can talk then’

‘How am i supposed to fill my belly on the carcasses of the suffering fools if you keep meddling?’

‘So keep your nose clean or suffer the consequences ‘

I sit bolt upright in bed knowing that my visitor was none other than Cedric Otis who was executed for a string of violent crimes in 1899 but unfortunately he continues to travel the highways and byways of hell feasting on the lost souls that get a little too close.

I drink three cups of coffee in an attempt to stay awake but i am dog tired and soon i drift away.

And Otis hasn’t quite finished with me yet ‘ Still with me you little shit? Here is a taste of the pain i will inflict if you defy me’

I try to wake up but my eyes refuse to open and in my minds eye i see a silver glint flashing in front of me and when the pain hits i realise that Otis is slashing me with a knife.

The pain is horrendous and still i don’t wake then thankfully a friendly voice talks to me from her freshly dug plot’ Don’t worry Warren’ Daphne says’ I am here now so stay calm and i will have you all stitched up ready to face a brand new day’

I woke at 6 am with a full bladder with a face that feels like it has been stung by one thousand hornet’s.

As i wrestle with Mr Johnson i sneak a look at the bathroom mirror and a bruised stitched up stranger stares back at me.

My face is swollen with 50 stitches criss cross from ear to ear.

I didn’t expect to be attacked by a long dead when i signed up at Apex Industries but here i find myself carved up like a roast turkey and sporting more stitches than a cricket ball.

Then i remember Daphne’s kind words and her belief in me so i swallow my pride and scream down into the bowels of hell ‘Fuck you Mr fucking Otis and the horse you rode in on’

I know that i am fighting with fire but i cant let an evil man like Cedric Otis destroy all of Daphne’s good work.

Now i am even more determined to destroy Otis once and for all.

And i still have my super power up my sleeve .

I have only used it once with no idea how to use it or garner its strength.

The power helped me save a young girl on my first week on the job so i am confident that my power will save me if i am put in mortal danger.

Deep down beneath the soil Cedric Otis body was long ago eaten by assorted worms and beetles but his evil soul and spirit are still very much alive.

He visits the vulnerable when they are at their lowest tempting them to come down into his lair where he can devour them at his leisure.

Cedric is also wary of that interfering arsehole Warren Bigelow who might look like a wimp but the turd has been his toughest opponent so far along with that old bitch Daphne Pincombe.

It is almost 3 am on a cold winters night and Warren is at work reading the latest thriller by David Baldacci to a teenager who if he doesn’t mend his ways will soon be in the company of Cedric Otis.

Warren is a big Baldacci fan so he reads the book with passion giving voice to every character and his client strapped to his hospital bed dreams long forgotten happy thoughts.

As he drives home after another successful shift Warren sings along with an old eagles song and for a second he lets his mind wander and that is just the opening that Cedric was waiting for.

A stench fills the interior of Warrens car that almost makes him lose control of the Corolla.

Warren gags in distress as the smell of decomposition renders him useless for a few seconds but he soon joins the land of the living when the voice of Cedric Otis pipes up from the passenger ‘Last time i let you off with a few cuts and bruises but this time i am playing for keeps.’

Warren braces himself for the onslaught to come but nothing happens then a familiar kind voice whispers in his ear. ‘Keep calm and vigilant Warren’ Daphne says ‘Remember that good will always triumph over evil so keep that fucker out of your head and you will prevail’

Arriving home alive and in one piece Warren collapses on his couch knowing that he has just dodged a bullet.

If Daphne hadn’t intervened when she did Warren knows that he would be dead meat right now.

Warren enters the kitchen to brew a huge pot of coffee because he plans on staying awake for the foreseeable future because he knows that if he lets Cedric Otis into his mind again then he wont survive this time.

He also knows that he can no longer work for Apex Industries because he is completely emotionally and physically drained.

After 36 hours with no sleep Warrens eyelids say enough is enough and close.

He is now the mercy of the gods and thankfully for him Daphne gets to him first. Warren don’t be so hard on yourself because Cedric Otis is a forminable opponent with a heart full of black’

‘And Warren my dear boy you have a heart of gold and a power that Otis doesn’t know you possess’

‘So use your power along with some words of wisdom and you will defeat that prick ‘

For sixteen hours Warren wrestles with his sheets and thoughts and luckily Otis is preoccupied elsewhere.

Feeling refreshed and invigorated Warren now knows exactly what he needs to do.

That evil piece of shit Cedric Otis needs to die again.

And this time for good.

Warren is now confident that he has the tools and skill to defeat Otis and send him back to hell on a one way ticket.

Then he stumbles and almost falls when Otis once again enters his brain ‘Hello Warren have you missed me? Y’know Warren i kind of like living inside your head and i have no plans to move out anytime soon’

‘I have conquered you Warren so now we are one and the same’

‘Now we can travel the mystical highway as one devouring lost souls and broken hearts’

Warren tries to respond but the words wont come so he now has only one course of action left to him.

He concentrates with his last vestige of strength and soon the static electricity leaves the room and enters his body then he shoves all ten fingers under the ribs of Otis and fires.

Blue sparks and flame pierce Otis skin and his internal organs are cooked and electrified.

Otis collapses and is dead before he hits the ground but Warren knows that the evil prick has already died a few times this century and last so he stays vigilant and waits .

Four hours later an apparition leaves Otis body and begins to float away back to the safety of hell but Warren isn’t having any of that ‘Not this time motherfucker the world has had enough of your evil presence so your soul doesn’t deserve to live to fight another day’

And with that Warren points a finger skyward and shoots that soul into oblivion.


Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you consider making a donation to go towards my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Ribbons Of Blood ( Part Three )


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This story began a few months ago and i told you how world renowned novelist Victor Bradstreet drove up to his cabin in rural Virginia in an attempt to fix a severe case of writers block.

A few miles from his cabin he stopped at a general store to stock up on some supplies and as he wandered the aisles he came across an old olivetti typewriter sitting on a clearance table.

Victor bought the typewriter thinking that it might give him some inspiration to start writing again.

But the olivetti did more than that, while Victor slept off a hangover on the first night at his cabin he typewriter worked through the night and wrote Victor a best seller.

In return the olivetti asked for a taste of Victors blood to replenish its lustre so that it could return to its original showroom style.

But Victor wasn’t prepared to shed a single drop of his blood even though the typewriter had produced a novel that would sell over 10 million copies.

Instead he tried to destroy the olivetti which only made matters worse and that led to Victor being strangled by the typewriters ink ribbons.

And Victor was consumed and disappeared without trace.

A week later Victor was reported missing by the owner of his publishing Penelope Clutterbuck after repeated unanswered phone calls.

And because Victor was a celebrity the lead Detective of the Springwood Police was dispatched to the cabin in the woods.

And upon arrival Detective Dane Peterson searched the cabin with a fine tooth comb and turned up nothing.

He never once suspecting the shiny olivetti typewriter looking all sweet and innocent on the kitchen table.

In New York the conniving Penelope Clutterbuck is mourning the lose of her cash cow so she decides to drive over to Victors cabin in the hope of finding a finished manuscript.

On arriving at the cabin she breaks a window to gain access and on finding no manuscript she goes into the kitchen for a glass of water.

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

Penelope spins around in surprise to see a surprisingly new looking old typewriter typing away.

She leans in to see what is written and she to is strangled by the ribbons of blood and swallowed down leaving not even one drop of blood behind.

A few days later Victors daughter Abigail arrives at the cabin where she is greeted by Detective Peterson .

Abigail is surprised to see her fathers publishers car parked in the driveway that bitch Penelope has made millions from her fathers books so what in the fuck does she want now?

Detective Peterson was also surprised to see the car and after checking the tags he learnt that the car belongs to a Penelope Clutterbuck from New York city.

‘Hello Detective what has Penelope got to say for herself?’

‘Nothing so far because like your father she to has disappeared without trace’

‘What surely she is here somewhere?’

Peterson shakes his head and leads Abigail into the cabin ‘Have a look around and tell me if anything looks out of place or missing’

Abigail goes from room to room but doesn’t see anything unusual until she enters the kitchen ‘Jesus this piece of shit typewriter must be over fifty years old so why does it look it just rolled off the production line?’

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

Abigail almost has a heart attack at the sound of the olivetti and even though she is frightened she leans in close to see what has be written and there are only two words.


Part Three

Abigail composes herself and calls out to Peterson ‘Detective can you come into the kitchen please’

When Peterson enters the room Abigail simply points at the typewriter in horror ‘I swear to you Detective that i haven’t touched the typewriter it typed the words itself ‘

‘And i know that you will think that i am crazy but i am positive that this machine had something to do with the disappearance and probable murder of my father and Penelope Clutterbuck’

The olivetti knows that if it doesn’t act immediately then the jig might be up

so it begins to type.

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

Both Peterson and Abigail jump at the sound of the keys pounding away and instead of escaping they lean in to read what the olivetti has written

‘Run Abigail run’ Peterson screams but it way too late and they are both entangled by the ribbons of blood and within minutes they are dead and Peterson is devoured while Abigail is wrapped up tight and left on the floor to be eaten at the olivetti’s leisure.

Three hours later the olivetti eats Abigail and while it is digesting it’s meal the ribbons of blood scour every surface of the kitchen until every last drop of blood is mopped up leaving behind a sparkling kitchen and an olivetti that has no concept of portion size.

As the olivetti is snacking on Abigail Detective Peterson’s colleagues at Springwood police station are concerned by his failure to report in so a squad car is sent to Victor’s cabin to check on his welfare.

And when the two uniformed officers arrive they notice three cars parked out front but there is no sign of Detective Peterson or the owners of the other two vehicles .

So they immediately radio for back up.

While they wait for reinforcements they call in the plates of the vehicles and learn that they belong to a Mrs Penelope Clutterbuck fron New York city and a Miss Abigail Bradstreet from Colorado the daughter of Victor Bradstreet the owner of the cabin.

Detectives Kelvin Godley and Lowell Creme race to the scene and are pleased to see that the first officers to arrive have sealed the scene.

They acknowledge the uniform cop guarding the front door and enter the cabin in the hope of finding some clue as to why Peterson and the owmers of the other vehicles have seemingly vanished into thin air.

The go from room to room with guns drawn and find nothing out of order and are surprised to see how clean the cabin is .

The kitchen looks brand new and so does the typewriter sitting on the kitchen table.

The olivetti’ instantly becomes alert when the two cops enter the kitchen .

The cabin has become way to busy so maybe it is time to move on?

After checking the back yard and surrounds and finding no trace of Mr Bradstreet or the other missing persons Detectives Godley and Creme return to their squad car and request a K 9 unit pronto.

And when it arrives an eager bloodhound named Monty runs around it’s owners feet desperate to earn a tasty treat.

Monty is a legend in Springwood an if given the chance would sniff out the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa and that kid on the milk carton.

Monty’s nose knows and if he can’t find Detective Peterson then there isn’t a bloodhound in the whole north west who could.

After a quick smell of the interior of Peterson’s squad car Monty runs around in circles before running directly to the front door and standing erect waiting for his master to arrive.

Godley and Creme can’t hide their disappointment.

The cabin only has five rooms and each have been searched thoroughly .

‘OK Troopre Ybanez ‘ Godley commands ‘You can take you dog away he has obviously picked up a false scent’

Monty’s master Trooper Clyde Ybanez knows that his dog is the best in the county ‘Detectives Monty has found your missing colleague , he is in the cabin somewhere and if you open the door he will lead us directly to him’

‘Go ahead Trooper but i think your dog has picked up the scent of a raccoon or a squirrel or maybe there is a dead mouse under the bed’

‘Trooper Ybanez looks at the detectives in annoyance then runs over to Monty ‘good boy now lets find what the detectives have missed’

Now it is Godley and Creme’s turn to look annoyed.

As soon as the front door is open Monty makes a beeline towards the kitchen ,he places his front paws on the kitchen table and stares an an old but somewhat shiny olivetti typewriter.

Monty wags his tail with happiness because he knows that he has done good and soon he will be playing with his favourite toy.

Trooper Ybanez is hot on Monty’s heels and he stops dead and his heart sinks when he Monty staring at a typewriter perched on the kitchen table.

Maybe Godley and Creme are right and Monty isn’t up to scratch but Ybanez knows that Monty is a champion dog so maybe there is a false wall behind the table or something.

Monty keeps on wagging his tail waiting for his master to tell him to stand down.

Godley and Creme enter the kitchen and laugh ‘Congratulations trooper your dog has managed to find a dead typewriter. What will he do now? Take it outside and give it a decent burial?

Trooper Ybanez gives the detectives the evil eye but keeps his mouth shut.

But Monty isn’t so forgiving and starts to bark in frustration.

The olivetti is well aware of the three humans and their noisy companion.

It is hungry again but doesn’t dare strike with so many people in the room so it just sits there acting all sweet and innocent hoping that the coast will clear giving it a chance to think up a survival plan.

The olivetti might be old but it isn’t stupid.

Then Monty the loyal bloodhound breaks the stalemate.

He doesn’t understand why his master hasn’t told him to stand down plus he really needs to go outside and water the plants.

So he jumps onto the kitchen table and places his snout onto the typewriter.

Maybe now his master will get the idea.

The olivetti’s juices begin to flow at the smell of fresh meat and even though it knows that it should resist the temptation to strike it can’t hold back and the ribbons of blood wrap around Monty’s muzzle and pull.

Monty whimpers in terror as his head is pulled into the machine.

All he can do is hope that his master can save him in time.

Godley and Crème can barely believe what they are witnessing but luckily their training kicks in and they empty their service revolvers into the hungry machine.

The olivetti is hit by over twenty bullets and is reduced to nothing more than a smouldering wreck.

But unfortunately Monty was also struck numerous times ‘No ‘ trooper Ybanez screams ‘What have you two motherfuckers done to my dog?’

‘Stand down Ybanez’ Godley snarls ‘I am sorry about your dog but we had to control the situation and let me give you a word of advice don’t you ever raise your voice to me again now get out of my sight’

Trooper Ybanez is seething but he storms out of the cabin without a word.

On the kitchen table the olivetti is already starting to repair the damage done by the high calibre bullets and after only thirty minutes later it’s keys start to type.

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

Out in their squad car calling for backup Godley and Crème are stunned by the sound of the Olivetti seemingly coming back from the dead.

They race into the kitchen with guns drawn but stop not wanting to get too close to the murderous typewriter.

They want to read what has been typed but they don’t dare to get any closer.

But their dilemma is solved when the olivetti spits out the sheet of paper.

Crème picks up the page and reads ‘Hello motherfuckers ,having a nice day? welcome to my world’

‘This is your first and final warning ,either leave now and go home to your families or stay and suffer the consequences’

Now what will it be boys?

Neither Godley or Crème reply they just back away never one taking their eyes from the maniac machine until they get outside locking thr front door behind them.

The SWAT team arrive ten minutes later and Crème gives them the run down’ Listen up guys and listen good because we have a very serious situation on our hands. I know what I am about to say might sound crazy but there is a dangerous typewriter inside who I believe is responsible for the murder of at least three people and perhaps many more’

‘So wear your full protective gear and be aware that this machine might look like your everyday typewriter but it has the ability to kill with its ink ribbons and along with my partner Detective Godley we have personally witnessed this machine kill and devour a K 9 unit dog’

The leader of the SWAT team knows that when dealing with a dangerous criminal there is only one course of action and that is to strike hard and quick.

Ten SWAT officers storm the cabin and before the olivetti can react it is chained to the kitchen table ready for transportation to a maximum security facility at Langley.

The olivetti is livid that it was captured so easily but it knows that it will live to fight another day.

On arriving at the jail the olivetti still chained is carried into a forty square foot cell.

Much like the one that housed Hannibal Lector in the movie ‘The Silence of the Lambs’

Warden Ted Kotzen doesn’t know how to process his new prisoner the paperwork is a complete fucking nightmare.

So he is relieved when two FBI agents arrive and take over the investigation and probable interrogation of Mr Olivetti.

First off they poke and probe the typewriter in the hope of finding human DNA so they have irrefutable evidence that this olivetti is a cold blooded killer.

The olivetti is in a rage, it feels dirty and degraded as it is put through a demeaning and outrageous internal examination.

But while it is chained and shackled there isn’t much it can do but wait.

Cause it knows that sooner or later it will be one on one with a stupid prison guard and then there will be hell to pay.

Three days later and the olivetti is slowly going insane, it has survived on dust motes cockroaches and the odd mouse that has crawled inside its mechanism.

But what it really needs is a blood meal so it can stay fit and healthy and not decay and rust into an obsolete machine ready for the scrap heap.

Prison guards Geoff Turnbull and Brian Mullhall are bored out of their minds.

The FBI asshole has finally gone home leaving them with strict instructions to never approach the typewriter and if the olivetti causes any trouble or creates a disturbance they are to call for backup immediately.

Two hours into their shift Mullhall starts groaning ‘Listen Geoff I really need to visit the bathroom, my wife made a curry last night and it is going through me faster than a Japanese bullet train’

And with that waddles off to the bathroom with his butt cheeks clenched tight.

Now an unsuspecting Turnbull is alone with a starving olivetti who is after a long overdue meal but also a way to breakout from his cell and return to a life of bloodshed and mayhem.

In the cell the olivetti start rocking back and forth threatening to break the chains holding it to the table.

Turnbull stares in amazement as the typewriter wobbles and bounces as it fights the restraints holding it down.

And with every movement the olivetti gets closer to the edge of the table almost to the point of no return.

Alarmed he jumps to his feet knowing that if the olivetti smashes onto the ground he could be charged with failure to take proper care of a prisoner so he does what he really shouldn’t do.

He opens the cell door and steps inside.

Geoff knows that he really should just turn around but the olivetti is damaging itself against the chains so he yanks on them for a few minutes until they fall to the ground

‘That’s better after all the typewriter can’t exactly run away’

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

Turnbull jump back in surprise at the sound but he leans in close to see what the machine has typed.

Maybe it is a confession and i can claim a reward he thinks to himself but i better be quick before that asshole Mullhall emerges from the shitter.

So he takes a deep breath and leans in even closer and reads ‘Hello Geoff pleased to meet you and thank you for ridding me from those annoying chains’

‘Come a little closer so we can talk in private and don’t worry i promise not to bite’

Geoff is as nervous as a shrimp that has wandered too close to a BBQ but he takes another step forward.

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

Good boy Geoff can you do me a huge favour? My C K and P keys are a little out of alignment can you just reach in and straighten them for me’

Geoff ‘s right arm reaches forward and he stops himself ‘What are you doing you fucking dick head? It is a trap so just turn around , lock the cell door and wait for Mullhall ‘

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

‘Please Geoff i am begging you, it will only take a second and we can have a nice chat until your friend comes back’

Turnbull is in two minds , he knows that he shouldn’t be talking to the creepy typewriter but he knows that the olivetti is getting completely dismantled tomorrow so he reaches his hand in ‘Geoff what in the fuck are you doing get away from that thing right this minute before you end up as 180 pounds of ground meat

Turns at the sound of Mullhall’s voice and tries to pull his hand away from the killer machine but he is way too slow.

The olivetti latches on and Turnbull is pulled into the machine like a lamb chop into a garbage disposal.

Mullhull pushes the emergency button then races to save his friend before he is devoured by the ravenous olivetti.

He wrapped his arms around Turnbulls waist and pulls with all his might and with a snap Geoff is separated from the machine minus an arm.

A tourniquet is applied now all Mullhall can do is pray that his friend and fellow officer survives the ordeal.

Warden Kotzen is livid with the FBI all they had to do was take the man eating olivetti out into the middle of nowhere and shoot the living shit out of machine so now one of his best officers is fighting for his life.

So fuck you Mr FBI Man if you can’t do your job i will have to do it for you.

So the Warden picks up the phone and after a few calls he has organised himself a firing squad.

And at 6 am the following morning the warden calls through the bars of the cell holding prisoner # 266277 ‘Any last words Mr Olivetti before you are executed by firing squad and sent to hell for eternity?

The typewriter doesn’t reply because it knows that nothing short of a nuclear explosion will deny it an existence.

So it sits straight and waits for impact.

Twelve rifles poke through the bars of the cell in readiness

Warden Kotzen builds the tension then screams FIRE and the olivetti is blown to smithereens.

Over one thousand pieces of twisted metal are collected and thrown into a cardboard box.

Warden Kotzen puts the box into the trunk of his car and drives to a steel mill on the edge of town.

He hands the box to an old school buddy who pours the pieces of metal into a huge ladle and soon they are melted down and turned into huge steel bars ready to be transformed into a thousand and one steel products.

A month later a steel Campbells soup can falls of a shelf in a supermarket in Grand Rapids Michigan and a tiny piece of metal breaks free and rolls out the front door.

The first piece of a shattered olivetti is on the warpath so please be careful out there.


Part Four is coming soon so keep out.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you also consider making a donation to go towards my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Good Little Doggie ( Part Two )


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After six operations and a three month stay in hospital I am finally ready to go home.

Because of the injuries to both ankles I now walk with the aid of a walking stick.

But I am determined to lead a normal life.

I was hospitalised after being attacked by a vicious Chihuahua whilst out walking in my local park.

The part devil part cujo cross set upon me without warning and chewed through my tendons like a great white biting a seal.

And I would have died if it wasn’t for the help of a bystander who stopped the bleeding until the paramedics arrived.

Now at home I am popping pills like candy and drinking way too much.

The drugs dull the pain in my ankles but do little to silence the demons living inside my head.

I know that you are all thinking that I should have been able to fend off an attack by a small Chihuahua but I have a history with dog attacks so once the Mexican mongrel started to chow down my mind just shut down.

The first attack happened when I was five years old and I was walking home from kindergarten when a german shepherd jumped a fence and took a chunk out of my left ear.

Then ten years later I was mauled by a mates afghan called sasha who broke his chain and honed in on me like I was a bag of kibble.

I tried to fight the mutt off but he was too big and he bit down hard and gnawed off the little finger on my right hand and swallowed it.

And now the Chihuahua attack makes three.

I don’t know the reason but dogs of all breeds and size seem to think that I am a human lamb chop covered in gravy ready for a taste.

But before I go any further let me introduce myself.

My name is Percy Lupe and I am 25 years of age and I reside in a southern suburb of Sydney.

I live alone because I don’t want to put anyone else in danger .

I know that another dog attack will happen sooner then later

When or where I don’t know.

I have now been home from the hospital for 28 days and I still haven’t ventured outside.

My food and alcohol is delivered to my front door and a nurse checks on me every two or three days and I pay all of the bills online.

But I crave the sunshine and the great outdoors and I hope one day to be able open my front door and walk outside.

Plus none of my neighbours own a dog so that day may happen soon.

And on the morning 35 days after coming home I wake determined that today is the day.

There is still a dark presence in the back of my mind but I push it aside and make a cup of coffee to calm down.

I swallow a few painkillers and sit on my couch to wait for the mailman to arrive.

My nurse usually brings my mail but to collect my own mail gives me a good reason to go outside.

Then at ten o’clock I hear the familiar sound of the postman’s motorbike and I watch as he pushes an envelope into my letterbox just fifteen feet past my front door.

I lean on my walking stick and just stand there looking out at the world listening to the birds and I hear one of my neighbours mowing his lawn.

My feet refuse to budge for fifteen minutes before my right hand reaches out and opens the front door and I step out onto my porch for the first time in months.

I look up and down the street about twenty times before I take a deep breath and venture out towards my letterbox.

I grab the mail and turn back when I hear a dog barking nearby.


Panicking I see a kelpie baring down on me from across the road but my walking stick gets stuck in the grass and I crash to the ground.

The dog hits me and takes a chunk out of my arm before I somehow manage to scramble to my feet.

But the dog still has a hold on me ‘Good little doggie if you let go of me now I promise not to kick the shit put of you’

But the kelpie pretends not to hear me and bites down even harder but then I realise I am still holding onto my walking stick and I swing it as hard as I can and connect with a crack.

“Hey you fuck wit what have you done to my dog?” I look over to see an old lady approaching from across the road.

The dog in question has recovered from my blow and runs away whimpering to its master. ‘ I have a good mind to ring the police or report you to the RSPCA’

I hold up my arm to show her the damage ‘Are you blind you old bitch? Your dog attacked me and I was only protecting myself so fuck off before I call the police’

I make it inside and slam the door on the old fool and her dog and I am tempted to call the cops but I don’t want to attract attention so I bandage my arm and take a few more painkillers.

I lay down on the couch waiting for the pills to kick in and close my eyes knowing that I am safe behind closed doors.

But I only snooze for about an hour before I am woken by a knock on my front door.

I lay hoping that the person will just go away but no such luck ‘Jesus Christ why cant the world just fuck off?’

Looking out through the blinds I notice the old bitch who’s dog just attacked me.

I want to ignore her but she is holding a huge chocolate cake in one hand while she continues to knock with the other.

Well I am addicted to chocolate so I relent and open the door “Sorry I have brought you a peace offering, I don’t know what got into Daffodil she is normally so gentle’

Daffodil? I cant believe that she has named the vicious creature Daffodil but I can almost taste the chocolate cake so I invite her inside.

After I brew some coffee and slice the cake I introduce myself ‘Pleased to meet you Percy my name is Ruby Conner and I am glad to see that Daffodil hasn’t hurt you too much’

‘Thanks Ruby but I didn’t even realise that you owned a dog’

‘Oh I have only had Daffodil and she is an indoor dog so you weren’t to know and I must say that I was surprised to see you outside and you have a walking stick were you in a car accident?”

I want to tell her to mind her own business but I can see that she is genuinely concerned so I open up and tell her about the dog attacks and how the Chihuahua ripped out my tendons so that is why I use a walking stick and have a fear of dogs.

Oh you poor thing if I had known I would have come over earlier and introduced myself but I thought you just preferred your own company’

Ruby and I are getting better acquainted when we are both startled by the sound of a dog howling and rush to the front window and see Daffodil howling to the sky.

Ruby is shaking her nerves are shot ” What is happening to Daffodil? She is usually a quiet gentle dog that is why I picked her.

‘It is me Ruby, Daffodil to howling to the dogs in the neighbourhood and once they form a pack they will be coming for me’

And sure enough Daffodil is soon joined by a Doberman a bull Mastiff and a huge Irish Wolfhound.

I push Ruby towards my bathroom ‘Ruby stay in here and I will call the cops and don’t come out until they arrive’

Once I know Ruby is safe i walk into the living room to call the cops but my phone isn’t on the coffee table where i usually leave it but then i remember that it is on charge in the kitchen.

I grab it and try to swipe the screen but i am shaking so much i drop the phone on the kitchen floor and before i can retrieve it the front window explodes in a shower of glass and the four dogs scramble inside.

All i can do is grab a knife off the counter and turn to face my fear ‘Alright motherfuckers bring it on’

They attack in silence and surround me in a vicious circle nipping at my ankles to bring me down.

I slash and cut with the knife and soon the Doberman and Bull Mastiff back off and retreat to lick their wounds so that leaves the Wolfhound and Daffodil.

The Wolfhound attacks from the front while Daffodil continues to worry my tendons and because they aren’t fully healed they snap and i collapse to the floor.

‘Holy shit’ I know i am now in a whole lot of trouble so i just thrust the knife back and forth hoping for the best but the Wolfhound manages to get a grip on my throat and shakes its head trying to finish me off.

I am losing a lot of blood and the knife slips in my hands but i manage to get a grip and i stab up and luckily the blade pierces the mongrels heart and it drops dead.

But in the commotion i had completely forgotten about Daffodil but she soon had my whole attention.

She has chewed through my left wrist and it hangs like puppet with broken strings.

The pain is unbearable and Daffodil runs around my prone body nipping and tearing at my flesh before she too moves in for the kill and bites down on my already destroyed throat.

‘No Daffodil stop’ I am barely conscious but before i surrender to my maker i see Ruby swing my walking stick and send Daffodil to hell .

Then my heart says enough is enough and the blackness takes hold.

It is Christmas and i have just got home from hospital where i stayed in the same room i had last time.

Ruby is looking after me and tending to my needs she has become a good neighbour and a great friend.

I sit in my wheelchair and listen to Ruby as she tells me again that the doctors gave me nine litres of blood and for a week it was touch or go if i would pull through.

I smile but don’t answer and not because i don’t want to but because i cant.

My throat is to badly damaged and the doctors have told me that in all likelihood i will never talk again.

But they managed to reattach my hand so at least i have one limb that works.

So i am sure that with a bit of rehab and some TLC i will be almost as good as new.


In the distance if you listen closely you can hear a menacing howl and it is getting closer.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story and could you also consider making a donation to go towards my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Santa ( Clause )


, , , , ,

Just a short sleigh ride NE of Greenland lives a rotund old man.

He always wears a red suit and a black belt with a shiny gold buckle.

And there is only one person on earth who fits that description and that is Santa Claus of course.

It is 8th December and Santa is in the bathroom of his chalet trimming his grey beard so he looks his best for the coming Christmas season.

Then after the trim he steps onto the bathroom scales and almost dies with fright.

Santa knows that the children all over the world expect him to be jolly and a bit chubby.

But if he  suddenly dies from a heart attack just before Christmas who will deliver the presents to the children.?

So Santa decides that the time is right for him to seek legal advice and maybe add a few clauses to his contract.

Santa doesn’t mean to offend anyone with his legal action but if he continues to consume one thousand litres of full cream milk and a million cookies on an annual basis then he might just burst at the seams.

So people please resist the urge to leave an unhealthy snack out for Santa on Christmas eve.

Because if you continue to leave junk food then Santa will be too heavy to ride in the back of the sleigh.

Plus it would put extra strain on the already overworked reindeer.

Clause # 1

If you must leave a snack for Santa please a glass of skim milk and a rice cracker or two will suffice.

Better still kindly just leave Santa a thank you note.

And by all means continue to leave some carrots for Rudolph and his friends because they are much appreciated.

Santa has also asked me to inform his loyal customers the world over to install wider chimneys.

Because as the old saying goes ‘You cant fit a round peg in a square hole’ ( or is it the other way around?) Because as we all know from the before mentioned Clause # 1 Santa is concerned about his weight.

So please install wider chimneys so Santa can deliver the presents in a timely manner.

And please keep your chimneys clean because Santa doesn’t want to come out looking like a coal miner.

Clause # 2

Install a chimney with minimum dimensions of 60cm x 30 cm or otherwise Santa might have to leave your presents in your front yard or in the worst scenario leave no presents at all.

PS Santa realises that this Christmas season is almost upon us so chimneys installed for the 2019 season will suffice.

The following clause will have to be strictly adhered to because if it isn’t then Santa will contemplate going on strike.

Santa wants to know why he is based at the North Pole for 12 months of the year?

Because people it is fucking up in the artic circle and Santa is afraid the his nuts will drop off and roll away never to be seen again.

Surely he could live in sunny Acapulco or Fiji for 11 months of the year?

It would give his plums a chance to thaw out plus give him time alone with Mrs Claws ( sorry Claus ) without putting up with the cold weather and listening to the elves shenenigans.

So once again I stress that if Santa doesn’t get a tan and some action this year then strike action could really be a reality.

Clause # 3

Santa requires a benefactor to supply him with rent free accommodation in a sunny location and in exchange Santa promises to deliver your presents no matter the width of your chimney.

Plus if it takes your fancy you can leave out a frosty long neck of beer and a huge slice of chocolate cake.

The last clause concerns the antics and temperament of Rudolph the reindeer.

Sure he might have a shiny red nose and can pull a sleigh like a draught horse

But lately Rudolph has been getting a little to big for his hooves.

Santa needs his reindeer to work as a team and he really hasn’t got the time to deal with a prima donna sleigh puller who demands all he attention.

And please don’t tell Santa that I am telling you this but I think that he might be just a little jealous of Rudolph and his quest for top billing.

Next thing you know he will be wanting a star on the Hollywood walk of fame.

Santa receives millions of letters every year from children telling Santa what presents they want for Christmas and now a lot of them are asking about the welfare of Rudolph and his freaking red nose.

And it is really starting to annoy the fat  man in the red suit.

He is Santa the rider of the sleigh and he doesn’t like to share the spotlight.

Not one little bit.

So if Rudolph doesn’t pull his head in then he will be replaced by Vixen or Prancer.

Or better yet get carved up and turned into some tasty choice cuts or a delectable rack of venison.

Clause# 4

Rudolph needs to be a team player once again and keep his ego in check.

Because if he doesn’t and Vixen or Prancer don’t  live up to expectations then Santa cant  guarantee that deliveries will be made on time.

So please read the four clauses carefully because a happy Santa means more presents for you and me.

                                                                Yours Faithfully

                                                                MR Joseph Walrusson    esquire

                                                                1 Snowbound Lane

                                                                Middle of nowhere, Greenland

                                                                                        THE END

         Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you also consider making a donation to go towards my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.                

Damn Your Eyes


, , ,

A few months ago I was pushing my shopping trolley down aisle five looking for my favourite brand of pasta sauce.

I hate grocery shopping with a passion so my mind was elsewhere and I didn’t notice another shopper reaching for the same jar of sauce.

I was jolted back to reality when our hands touched and looked up to apologise but the words wouldn’t form because I was stunned by the sight of your twin pools of blue sparkling beneath the fringe of your long wavy hair.

My brain went into lock down mode I was memorised.

Damn your eyes.

I dove into the  aqua blue lagoons and soon became lost in the liquid pools of delight.

I frolick playfully thinking that it would be nice to just drift away forever ‘Hello excuse me but I am talking to you’ I jump at the voice and I feel my face burning with embarrassment. ‘Can you please stop drooling and pass me the jar of sauce that you have been pawing’

I hand her the jar of leggo’s and sneak another look into the blue depths.

But they have both turned to ice an impenetrable deep freeze.

I apologise and say my goodbyes.

Damn your eyes.

I arrive home feeling hot and bothered because I can’t stop thinking about my encounter at the supermarket.

I am feeling frisky and my finger eleven is doing a happy dance in my pants so I go into my room to ease the tension.

And three minutes later my sac is emptying and I call out to the skies.

Damn your eyes.

The following weeks pass without incident because now I wear sunglasses wherever I go because I want to avoid falling madly and deeply again.

But now I feel even more lonely as I hide behind my shades because all they seem to do is mirror my sadness.

I wander alone across the bridge of sighs.

Damn your eyes.

It is  now two months since my encounter at the supermarket and I am almost back to my normal self.

I am enjoying a day off work catching up on some chores and relaxing in front of the TV when someone knocks on the front door.

I debate whether to sit still and hope the annoying interloper will just go away.

But no such KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK  I sigh in annoyance and get off the couch to answer the door.

I make a detour to the coffee table to retrieve my sunglasses but at the last second I decide to open the door unprotected and unpolarised.

Damn your eyes

Even from behind the screen door I am transfixed how is it possible for a person to possess eyes so green?

I try to look away but I am too slow and I feel myself falling into the vortex and I happily tumble in your forest so thick and green 

Your eyes shine like emeralds two perfect gems and I am almost blinded by their brilliance ‘Hello excuse me but are you going to make a donation or not? I haven’t got the time to stand here all day’

The spell is broken ‘Oh sorry I will go and grab my wallet’

Back inside I pick up my sunglasses my trusty disguise

Damn your eyes.

Our fingers touch as I hand over the money and the goose pimples tingle my skin ‘Thank you sir have a nice day’

Your butt sways when you walk and your hair soaks up the suns rays.

The birds are singing but when you are gone my soul crumbles and dies.

Damn your eyes.

So once again I retreat to my bedroom where I soon have some issues with the tissues.

The monkey has been spanked leaving me relieved and sated and mr floppy retreats back into the undergrowth.

Will I ever figure out what goes on in the minds of the fairer sex or will I just have to choke the chicken forever more.

I already have an extra large arm like popeye and it isn’t from eating spinach.

But I am only twenty one and I am sure I will eventually work out the who how or why’s.

Damn your eyes.

A week later and my mind is still in turmoil so I decide to so for a drive to clear my head.

So I grab my car keys and sunglasses and soon I am reversing my corolla out of the driveway.

My Toyota might be small and compact but it flies.

Damn your eyes.

I only get about 500 metres down the road when I see red and blue flashing lights in my rear view mirror. ‘Jesus what now?’

I pull over and watch the female officer approach ‘Licence please driver’

Sorry officer but what is the problem I am positive I wasn’t speeding’

She removes her sunglasses but I keep mine firmly in place and even through the dark lens I can see that her eyes are a rich brown and I just hope that I am not in deep shit.

I try to look cool calm and collected with a hint of healthy and wise.

Damn your eyes.

You might think I am stupid but I decide to remove my shades for a closer inspection.

Immediately the earth is thrown from its axis and I land with a splash in a giant glass of chocolate milk.

I dive and taste the choc goodness but soon I am overcome by all the chocolate because it is my number one addiction,well that and beer.

Then I experience an awkward feeling down between my thighs.

Damn your eyes.

I need to get to my room and I mean NOW.

‘Excuse me sir but are you listening to me? ‘Of course officer I was just lost in my thoughts’ ‘Well pay attention and I will tell you why I pulled you over today’

‘Your drivers side brake light isn’t working and I was going to let you off with a warming but you seem a little agitated’

Well of course I am agitated I have just creamed my Calvin Kliens so forgive me if I look uncomfortable my voice silently cries.

Damn your eyes.

Then I realise that the policewoman is still talking ‘Sorry officer but I just have a touch of the cock snot blues I get it every day’

‘Uh sorry I mean I have the man flu I get it every year’

‘Step out of the car now mister

‘God how did I end up in such a sticky situation?’

‘Out of your now or I will arrest you for obstructing police’

‘OK officer hold your horses’

I climb out but I can barely moved in my cum filled calvins and levi’s

Damn your eyes

‘How much have you had to drink today sir ? Look at yourself you can hardly stand still you are squirming all over the place’

Sorry officer but I haven’t been drinking and I don’t do drugs’

But what I can’t tell you is that I am full of raging hormones and testosterone just like all the other guys

Damn your eyes

                                        THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and could you also consider making a donation to go towards my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.