‘Creeping Crawley’

25 Saturday Sep 2021

Tags

blood, contract killer, cops, guts, murder, shit, sniper

In a small park beneath the Sydney Harbour Bridge a forlorn teenager is hiding from the world behind the branches of a huge weeping willow.

Thirteen year old Graham ‘creepy’ Crawley shivers in fright as the residents go about their business oblivious to his presence just metres away.

Graham ran away from the family home in Parramatta two days ago after an argument with his parents leaving his mobile and his dog Rex behind.

Pencil weighing a mere 40kg the runaway nervously peers through the dense canopy half hoping to see his mum and dad telling to get home because Rex and little brothers are missing him terribly but the streets are empty except for a few stragglers.

His stomach growls in hunger Yeah come on arsehole grow some balls and go find us some food, i am starving’

Graham tries to ignore the little voice in his head but he has to admit that he could the eat the whole Macca’s menu if given the chance and with a final glance to see if the coast is clear he steps out into the night.

The Rocks is an historic part of Sydney with buildings dating back to the early 1800’s, its residents enjoy million dollar views and drive BMW’s and Mercedes Benz around enjoying their inner city lifestyle but Graham really couldn’t give a shit about the locals and their fancy cars all he wants at the moment is to find some food and a place to crash.

Luckily he finds a discarded box of fries on a table outside the local KFC , as he scoffs them down in one mouthful Graham notices a row of terraces down the end of a side street that look promising.

On closer inspection he notices that the terrace on the far end is boarded up with a condemned sign pinned to the front door ‘This is perfect now all i have to do is find a way to get inside.

A Harley Davidson is parked outside the terrace next door and a light is on upstairs but otherwise no one else is around so Graham creeps down the side lane and enters into a small courtyard.

Another notice is pinned to the back door warning that trespassers will be prosecuted but Graham ignores the warning sign and twists the door handle and to his surprise it opens and knowing that there could be drug addicts or squatters inside he takes a moment to listen for any sound of danger than he walks inside.

He automatically hits the light switch and Graham gets another pleasant surprise when a old dirty bulb flickers to life ‘Holy crap what next? A fridge full of chicken nuggets and choc chip ice cream would be nice’ but the space where the fridge should is empty ‘Oh well can’t have it all’

Graham suddenly remembers that the neighbours are still so he switches off the light and guided by the moonlight he walks upstairs to hopefully find a mattress to sleep on but all of the bedroom are empty but strangely a length of rope dangles from the ceiling out in the hallway and without a moments hesitation he gives it a good hard yank and a set of stairs lower down.

Staring up into the darkness the lonesome teenager is reluctant to take the first step but than the annoying little voice taking up his head space decides to add his two cents worth ‘What are you waiting for you pussy,just walk up the stairs because the attic could be full of sausage rolls and fairy floss but on the other hand you could enter a portal to another universe and worse still you could crawl up the anus of Uranus and disappear into the brown for eternity’

Graham rolls his eyes because it is bad enough to have an overactive voice in the head who doesn’t seem to know the old saying ‘silence is golden’

Once his eyes have stopped rolling in their sockets Graham takes a deep breath and hurries up the stairs into an attic full of cobwebs and dust motes and once his vision has adjusted to the darkness he notices an item over near a dividing wall.

A large wooden chest that looks like it hasn’t been opened since Aladdin lived in a cave shimmers in the moonlight beckoning Graham over for a closer look.

With visions of Gold coins, stolen treasure or even a few playboy magazines Graham quickly opens the lid to discover nothing but old black & white photos and newspapers.

Slamming the lid closed in frustration the impact loosens a few bricks from the dividing wall and they fall into the neighboring attic.

Worried that the people next door might have heard the commotion Graham waits for a few minutes but the only sound comes from a dog a street away so after prying a few more bricks loose he crawls through the gap.

Not usually one to steaky beak into other peoples business Graham opens the manhole cover and listens once again hoping that the occupants are asleep so he can sneak down and grab some food from the fridge but suddenly a voice is heard ‘Come on John i think that we should stay put for another week because i have a feeling that something is about to happen.’

‘Jesus Cathy, we have been here twiddling our thumbs in this shithole for far to long. I say that we pack it in and tell the boss that it is a lost cause’

‘Lets give it two more days John and if he doesn’t show then i agree we call it a day, now stop stop jabbering and eat your apple pie’

‘Apple pie’ Graham gasps ‘I would donate my left nut to science if i could taste just a spoonful of that pie’ but just to be safe he waits for an hour or two until all is quiet.

When he hears one of the couple snoring away the starving teenager lowers the staircase and creeps down the gloomy hallway and the snoring gets louder when he walks near a bedroom ‘God’ the voice in his pipes up ‘It sounds like someone is trying to start a broken down chainsaw but i digress, lets go find that pie and maybe there will be some ice cream and sprinkles’

Graham is about to say that nobody has sprinkles on apple pie but he doesn’t want to encourage the voice so he trundles silently into the kitchen and opens the fridge door.

Every shelf is crammed with enough food to feed a dozen sumo wrestlers for a month and sitting pride of place is three huge slices of apple pie on a plate.

Not even bothering to see if there is any ice cream Graham crams one slice into his gob and swallows it down in one bite.

After devouring all three slices in record time Graham grabs a plastic bag from beneath the sink and fills it to the brim with food then he drags the bag back to his terrace and after eating a slice of ham he falls asleep on the threadbare lounge only to be jolted awake four hours later ‘What in the fuck John did you go sleepwalking last and raid the fridge?’

‘Not as far as i know Cathy but pray tell me what has got your undies in a twist’

‘Don;t take that tone with me John because you know very well what i am talking about. the fridge has been cleaned out but worst of all john is that you ate the rest of the apple pie knowing full well that i was going to have a slice for morning tea plus you even had the gall to leave the dirty plate on the counter’

John who looks like one of the bikers on that TV show ‘Sons of Anarchy’ knows that it is useless trying to reason with his wife just tells her that he ‘ didn’t touch any food’ grabs the keys to his Harley and walks out the door.

Graham is in hysterics as he listens to the couple next door arguing but he has learnt his lesson so from now on he will only take enough food to fill his belly and not pig out like a well, a pig.

Once his enjoyment dies down boredom quickly settles in, Graham is tempted to venture outside but his parents have probably reported him missing by now and he is having to much fun to go home just yet so he decides to go and scope out the terrace on the other end of the building.

Cutting through the couples attic is his surprised to see that there isn’t a dividing wall so he slinks over and lifts the manhole cover and listens to see if anyone is at home and almost immediately a voice a voice drifts up from below. ‘Come on Eileen give us a kiss’

I have told you a thousand times Mr Redpath that i am your care giver not your girlfriend plus you are old enough to be my grand father’

‘Please Eileen just one kiss i will even put my teeth back in’

Having know interest in a toothless old coot Graham goes back to his terrace and finishes of the contents of his stolen goods.

Two nights later Graham decides to visit his neighbours to see if there is any one treats to be had and when he hears the chainsaw starting up he ventures into the kitchen and he almost cracks a fat when he opens the fridge door because staring him in the face is a gigantic chocolate cake.

Grabbing the cake with both hands Graham scurries back up to the attic and started to devour the cake bite by bite but then he hears the lady below berating her husband and what she has to say causes him to slam his arsehole shut, ‘Did you enjoy eating the chocolate cake John? Because let me tell you that i mixed in enough laxatives to make a buffalo shit non stop for a week’

John has heard enough ‘Cathy Quinton i have heard enough, i haven’t been raiding the fridge plus you know as well as i do that i am not a huge fan of Chocolate so why would i eat it?’

Cathy leans in and stares deep into her husbands eyes and from experience she knows that he is telling the truth, but if John hasn’t been steaking the food who has been?’

A strangled cry from above answers her question.

Graham knows that if the doesn’t make it to a toilet real quick he will spray his undies so he runs downstairs to his terrace pulling his pants down on the way, with a sigh of relief he sits on the throne and unleashes a liquid torrent not seen since biblical times.

After visiting the toilet ten times over the following hour Graham starts to develop an arm like Popeye from all the wiping and to make matters worse he has used all of the toilet paper.

‘John there is someone up in the attic, go grab a torch and take a look while i hold the fort’

The harried husband yanks on the rope to lower the staircase then he shines the light all around the attic Cathy what if there is a werewolf up here, if it rips my throat out then you will become a widow’

‘I will take that chance now get up there before i kill you myself’

John climbs the remaining two steps ‘There is no one up here but the chocolate cake is on the floor so some one was up here but that also means that someone was in our house’

When John walks back down into the hallway his wife grabs his arm ‘John what if it was Brett Price he could kill us in our sleep next time’

‘Cathy Price is an adult he wouldn’t be sneaking around an attic and come down here to steal some cake, that is something that a child would do so stop worrying, now what’s for tea because i am starving’

Chicken casserole John, it will be ready in about ten minutes’

‘Chicken again Cathy, that is the fourth time this week you must have been a chicken farmer in a past life or something because you sure do love your chicken’

It isn’t by chance that the couple are currently residing at 4/126 Oceanview Drive the Rocks, they are both constable’s with the Australian Federal Police, they have been hunting notorious contract killer Brett Raymond Price for over a decade but the killer has managed to elude them every step of the way.

The Price family grew up next door at 2/126 so the couple are working undercover because by all reports Price is back in town so the authorities are hoping that he will return to the place where he grew up but that leaves John and Cathy Quinton in the firing line.

Graham’s bowels are still doing somersaults and with no toilet paper at hand he has no choice but to go searching for some so he enters the attic and walks over to Mr Redpath’s terrace.

The sun only set an hour ago so Graham knows that the old man is likely still awake but with his guts threatening to explode again he has no choice but to go down stairs and take a few rolls of toilet paper so the lowers the steps and creeps along the hallway looking for the bathroom.

Opening the bathroom Graham is happy to see a pack of four rolls on the floor, but his smile vanishes when his bowels tell him to take a seat and buckle up.

The stench hits him hard’ Jesus that stinks, even the sewer rats will run from that one’

‘Hello who is out there? Did someone just die a gruesome death because it sure smells like it’.

‘Come in here right now, i have a shotgun and i am not afraid to use it, so show your face before i turn you into minced meat’

Timidly Graham enters Mr Redpath’s bedroom to find that the old man is bedridden and there is no shotgun in sight ‘Who are you and what are you doing in my house?’

‘Huh, don’t you remember me grandpa? It is me Graham your favourite grandson’

‘Come closer boy so that i can see you better, why course i recognize you now, it is good of you to visit but why are you stinking up my house and walking around with a pack of toilet paper.

‘Sorry grandpa but i ate a dodgy piece of chocolate cake and got the squirts but i am alright now and i was restocking the bathroom with toilet paper but enough talk why don’t i go make us a sandwich or something’

‘No need Graham i only ate an hour ago plus my caregiver will be here in a few hours, now take a seat and tell me why it has taken so long for you to visit’

The odd pair spend an hour talking about girls, motorbikes and why hair grows down there in your underwear.

When Graham hears a car door slam outside he knows that he should go before the caregiver walks inside’ I gotta go now grandpa, it was good talking to you but i have to do some homework’

‘Sure thing Graham thanks for taking the time to talk to me but before you go let me give you a little something’

Reaching under the mattress Mr Redpath pulls out a wad of notes and hands Graham a $10 bill ‘Here you go boy, now take care and come back anytime you want’.

‘Sure thing grandpa, it was nice talking to you’

‘Holy shit Cathy, they just said on the News that a man has been murdered over on Trinity Street which is only five minutes from here .

Cathy wanders in wiping her hands on an apron ‘What did you say John, i am in the middle of making a chicken pie’

I said a guy was murdered down near the shopping centre, the newsreader said that it looks like a gang related shooting but i believe that was Brett Price that did the bloke in’

‘Price is coming home Cathy so i think that we should call for some backup before the doo doo hits the fan’

‘Calm down John if Price is close and notices any unusual activity he will turn tail and we might never see him again, i say we just sit tight and let him walk into our trap but go call the lieutenant and let him know that we believe that our target is getting close and to have a team on standby’

‘Will do love, um that pie smells good but i hope that there isn’t any bones this time’

‘It isn’t my fault if someone didn’t do their job in the factory John now shut up and go set the table’

Taking a snooze on the lounge Graham is dreaming about losing his virginity to his hot teacher Miss Thomas, a tent is taking shape in the front of his pants and things are about to reach a climax when he is jolted awake by the sound of breaking glass ‘Holy shit someone is trying to break in’

Brett Raymond Price once inside quickly makes himself comfortable in the familiar surroundings, he wanders from room to room dredging up memories both good and bad.

Price is tall and lanky with fiery red hair that he usually hides under a tattered Canterbury Bulldogs baseball cap but his hair isn’t his most distinctive feature, his eyes are a dark brown almost and people have said that when he stares at you it is like looking into the dead eyes of a great white shark.

Price was the eldest of four brothers and from an early age he had a fascination with weapons particularly guns and knifes.

His family used to travel up to Nundle where his shooting skills help to bring down over one hundred feral pigs.

Price was a natural when it came to using a high powered rifle to kill a pig from long range and he took great delight in slitting a hogs throat to put it out of its misery then feeding the entrails to his dogs.

He was loner who patrolled the streets at night with a slug gun and any family pet that had the misfortune to get in his sights was put down and left bleeding in the gutter.

When he turned fourteen he held up a corner store with a knife and escaped with over $500 a fortune for a teenager.

Word soon got around that he was a kid to avoid at all costs and many locals knew that it was only a matter of time before he murdered some poor soul.

When his parents heard the rumors swirling around the suburb they confronted their wayward child and gave him an ultimatum either go live with his uncle Cliff out near Dubbo or go into a boys home until he turned eighteen.

Price chose to go out west and live with his uncle but he soon got in trouble and even his uncle who was a brutal man couldn’t control his short tempered nephew.

Three months later Cliff Crawley was found with his throat cut from ear to ear plus he had been slit open with his intestines splattered on the living room carpet.

Brett Raymond Price was suspected of committing the heinous crime but he had disappeared into the bush, the police believe that he made his way to Queensland where he hid for eighteen months.

Tired of hiding out in central Queensland Price enlisted in the Australian Army using a fake ID, his shooting skills were soon recognized by his superiors and he was drafted into the special forces where he quickly developed into an elite sniper.

When Australia and its allies entered the second Gulf War Corporal Price soon honed his skills recording over 120 kills but his evil ways soon came to the fore and he once again began to enjoy the killing shooting both the enemy and civilians alike.

To avoid an international scandal Price was arrested and placed in the brig, knowing that he faced life imprisonment he bribed a guard and escaped to Oman and from there he made his way to London and soon found employment as a contract killer.

He was a sniper shooting his victims from long range but now he prefers to get close to his target killing them with one knife thrust to the neck.

Now he is back in Sydney squatting at his parents old terrace in the Rocks waiting for the heat to die down after his latest hit.

He has dyed his hair blond and has recently began wearing blue contact lenses, his mobile rings and the killer smiles ‘Yeah it went as planned, i killed him with a gun liked you asked just make sure that the money is put into my account or i will hunt you down and kill not only you but your whole family’

Up in the attic Graham is scared out of his mind and in his hurry to escape he trips and falls ‘Shit’ the voice in his head snaps’ Can’t you do anything right now go to Mr Redpath and get him to ring the Police’

‘What in the fuck’ Price mutters ‘Whoever is up there stay where you are or i will shoot your head off’

Grabbing his Ruger pistol and his razor sharp bowie knife the killer yanks on the length of rope then races up the stairs into the attic but there is no one in sight.

Reaching the Quinton’s attic he stops in his tracks when he hears a couple talking in the terrace below ‘Did you hear that John, someone in up in the attic again’

‘I heard Cathy and no arguments this time, i am calling in for some reinforcements, Price is to dangerous for us to handle on our own, have your gun ready while i call the lieutenant’

Knowing that he has to stop the cop from calling in Price quickly lowers the stairs and scampers down the hall into the living room and before the two cops can react he aims his pistol at them ‘Now don’t do anything stupid and i will let you live’

‘Okay both of you throw your phones on the floor then go sit on the lounge and put your hands above your head’

Knowing they have little choose the cops throw their mobiles on the carpet, Price keeps an eye on the pair while he smashes the phones with his Doc Martens.

Pointing his pistol at John he orders him to remove his shoelaces and tie his partners hands behind her back and once that has been done Price uses the other lace to tie around the male cop’s hands.

Searching the kitchen cupboards he finds a roll of duct tape then he returns to the living room and puts a strip of tape over both of the cop’s mouths and for extra protection he ties the tape around their hands and also around their ankles. ‘Alright Batman and Robin sit tight while i figure out how to dispose of your bodies without being seen’ John and Cathy Quinton look at each other with tears streaming down their faces, they know that Price will show them no mercy so they say a silent goodbye and wait for the end’

Will the Quinton’s survive their ordeal?

Will Graham be able to call for help?

To find out the answer come back and read the final chapter coming soon.

‘A Little Place Called Hell’

23 Friday Oct 2020

Posted by stevenjohnno in stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

abuse, blood, crazy, hell, horror, murder, sever

36 year old Alison Reddy takes a deep breath and slowly exhales.

Sitting in the back seat of her battered old chevy wagon her two children have been squabbling since she strapped them in and drove from their home in Lincoln Nebraska.

Now four hours later Alison is about ready to explode ‘If you two don’t quieten down right this minute i swear i will turn the car around’

‘I know that you are excited to visit gran and pop but you need to settle down or i will tan both of your hides like i did last week remember?’

Nine year old Molly and her six year old brother Kevin instantly sit up straight in their seat and rub at old and new injuries but the bruises inside will be forever out of reach.

Alison looks back at her offspring in the rear view mirror and is pleased to see them behaving for once without her needing to raise a hand.

Ever since her husband Randy walked out a year or so back Alison has tried her best to be a good mom but it isn’t easy being a single parent.

A whimper of fright from the back seat brings her back ‘Sorry Kevin but you know that mommy likes her peace and quiet so be a good little boy and soon we will stop for lunch and you and Molly can order whatever you want’

Alison drives down the highway gripping the steering wheel like she is trying to strangle it ‘God why did my parents feel the need to move all the way down to Florida to retire for fuck sake’

Stealing another glance at her children and is shocked to see them covered in cuts and bruises looking like the living dead.

Running a hand through her long greasy hair the harried mother does what she has always done in times of stress, she takes a long pull from a bottle of gin that was sitting in the console within easy reach.

Molly and Kevin notice their mommy drinking from a bottle and know that no matter if they behave or not there will be trouble.

The two abused souls slide down in their seat trying to disappear but trouble has a habit of finding you wherever you choose to hide.

Replacing the cap Alison dares another look back at her children she is pleased to see that they now look fresh faced and rosy cheeked ‘Almost there kiddo’s’

Molly and Kevin smile back but the smiles are etched deep with past pain and sorrow.

Ten minutes later she veers off the highway and drives towards a town called Seabridge, which is strange because Seabridge didn’t appear on her navigation system but she could with something to eat so Seabridge it is.

Rounding a bend Alison barely glances at a sign on the side of the road but that glance was enough to make her heart turn to stone.

Slamming on the brakes the chevy skids to stop fifty yards past the sign. ‘Stay in the car children i just need to have another look at the sign back there, i wont be long’

In the back seat Molly and Kevin shimmer and shine in a ghostly manner disappearing for a second before reluctantly returning.

Alison approaches the sign in trepidation but she knows what she saw so this time Alison takes a good hard look.

WELCOME TO HELL

BURN WITH ME ALISON

THE DEVIL.

Pop – Too many to mention.

Alison knows that she has to get out of here before it is too late so after running back to the car she screams at the back seat occupants ‘OK kids buckle up tight i um just remembered that i left the back door unlocked so i need to go back before someone breaks in’

‘Mommy just call Mr Jones next door’ Molly pipes up ‘He can go over and lock it and we can go see gran and pop’

Yeah mommy’ Kevin butts in ‘But please i need food and i need it now’

Alison isn’t listening because she has more pressing issues at hand like how to escape from hell and live to talk about it.

She knows that she will more then likely end up in hell but she isn’t quite ready yet but after checking over her shoulder for oncoming traffic Alison knows that she has no choice but to drive into hell.

Behind her the road has vanished leaving nothing but darkness blacker then black.

Two hundred yards down the road Alison is surprised to see what appears to be an ordinary main street you would see in any small American town except that there are no cars in sight and the sidewalks are pedestrian free.

Thankful that the kids don’t seem to notice that they are in mortal danger Alison and she can’t really blame them because for all intents and purposes hell looks like a ghost town.

Looking down to the end of main street searching for an escape route but there is nothing to see except a thick black fog.

‘Just put your foot down and drive all the way into hell Alison because that is where you belong you evil bitch’

‘You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t murder me and your own parents and because of your petty jealously and lust for money’

‘Thankfully the kids escaped from the abuse and are somewhere safe away from your evil presence’

Alison’s skin crawls at the sound of her dead husbands voice coming from the backseat.

With gentle arms draped over his children Randall Reddy sneers back at her ‘Your time to burn is nigh Alison and i hope that the fire consumes your soul forever and a day’

‘Fuck you Randall i should of killed you before i got pregnant with your spawn’

Crying tears of joy and acceptance Alison puts her foot down and drives all the way into hell to meet her maker.

‘Wake up you evil fucking bitch’

The strung out female patient sleeping in room 219 on the lower level at the New Brunswick Mental Facility opens her eyes and looks up at a huge menacing figure staring down at her with contempt.

Darnel Brathwaite is an african american nurse who has been attending to his patients needs and helping them in any way he can.

Perhaps helping isn’t the word that the patients themselves would use when describing Darnel’s conduct but Brathwaite couldn’t give a shit what they think of him.

All he is thinking about is helping the crazy lady in room 219 depart this world and get buried deep where the bugs and worms can eat her flesh to their hearts content.

Darnel has helped over 100 patients in various facilities nationwide reach the other side so the lady in room 219 shouldn’t prove to difficult to send on her way.

But first why not have a little fun?

Alison Reddy struggles to get comfortable as the buckles and straps and buckles of her straight jacket bite into her skin.

Her mind is hazy and she is having trouble focusing on the huge cruel nurse in her room but through the haze she notices a syringe in one of his hands and a manilla folder in the other.

‘Glad you could join me Alison, it is almost 9.30 and my shift ends at midnight,i will go home to my cat and a six pack of beer and you will also be going on a journey but before you leave let me read you a bed time story’

This story i am sure you have read many times before but never mind let me read it again so you know exactly why you need to go on a one way trip’

‘On 20th January 1984 Mary Lou Reddy gave birth to a healthy baby daughter who her husband Ben insisted be named Alison after his favorite grandmother who he loved very much.’

‘Alison was a happy normal toddler but when she started school began to show a cruel streak by physically abusing the other students and teachers’

You were immediately removed from school and sent to this facility where you received shock treatment and for a few years your behavior returned to normality’

Braithwaite pauses briefly to adjust himself ‘A week before your twelve birthday you came home from running an errand where after devouring a huge slice of chocolate cake your loving mother made for you ‘

‘You returned her love by picking up a knife and stabbed her 32 times’

‘Then you went out to the garage where your father was working beneath his beloved 57 Pinto’

‘With wicked intentions you wound down the jack slowly crushing your own father slowly until he died an agonizing death’

Once again the excited nurse pauses this time to release his member that he slowly begins to stroke.

‘After murdering your parents you were sentenced to a maximum security institution for dangerous juveniles in upstate New York where you were treated for your maladies’

The governor of the state believing that you were completely rehabilitated released back into the community on 1st July 2009 and you laid low for a while behaving like a regular person but you and i both know different don’t we Alison?’

The patient in the straight jacket smiles at the story teller with a grin that almost causes him to lose rhythm but Braithwaite continues to choke the chicken even as the smirk on the patients face tells him that trouble is afoot.

You befriended a young man named Randall Reddy at church who had no idea that you were a murderer and an evil demon and you didn’t tell him did you Alison?

This time Brathwaite avoids eye contact but the stroking intensifies’

Braithwaite in his haste to spend an evening of fun failed to make sure that the he tied the straight jacket securely and now Alison even in her sedated state has managed to slip an arm from the restraint.

Now the evil killer is just waiting for the right moment to strike.

‘Not long after meeting Reddy you were pregnant with your daughter Molly and three years later you gave birth to a son who you named Kevin’

‘For ten years you lived in suburbia with your family and everything appeared peachy on the outside but they weren’t were they Alison?”

‘In the decade you lived in Lincoln twenty three people who lived within a ten mile radius from your home disappeared’

‘These people were completely innocent and didn’t deserve tp come in contact with you’

Brathwaite has almost reached the point of no return and his breathing has become erratic ‘Your husband Randall never knew who you really were and on his 31st birthday you shot him in the head and ran naked onto the street which is why you currently a resident here’

‘Thank God your children have had their names changed and are in a place where you will never find them and hopefully they will grow to be good people despite having you as their mother’

‘Do you have anything to say before you begin your travels?

Alison motioned for the nurse to come closer and Brathwaite despite all of his training leans in close beating his meat at a furious pace.

Alison launches forward and bites down hard on the nurses nose and after a few shakes of her head the morsel is ripped free.

Braithwaite despite being three times the size of the patient offers little resistance and soon goes into shock and is now at the mercy of the crazy women in room 219′

Alison gets to work, first she shoves the nose down the nurses throat then using the metal tip of a felt pen she found in the nurses pocket Alison severs the shriveled penis from the shell shocked nurse and it to is forced down his throat.

Finally Alison empties the contents of the syringe into his thigh and soon the nurse is dead.

With her heart beating strong in her chest Alison feels exhilarated as the taste of the nurses blood refreshes memories from her past.

Now she has the taste again Alison needs and wants more blood on her hands but first she will need to escape from this shithole.

So she settles down to think of a way out of here.

Ten thousand miles away down in Australia two two teenagers have no idea that their birth mother has just killed again and is thinking about holding a family reunion.

THE END.

‘Roadkill ( Mantlepiece of Death ) 2.

22 Saturday Aug 2020

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

blood, horror, murder, roadkill, supernatural, taxidermy

In the first installment i introduced you all to Myron Oxenford a 58 year old old eccentric who called rural Mississippi home.

He was employed by the county to clear the highways and byways from any animal unfortunate enough to be killed by passing trucks and cars.

A loner at heart Myron enjoyed driving around all day listening to country music as he goes about his job,scraping up the roadkill all over the couty.

An amateur taxidermist Myron every now and than would take the freshest and least damaged carcasses home to his cabin in the woods where he would stuff the creatures and place them on his mantlepiece.

The pelts he would dry near the fire whilst some of the meat was thrown on the skillet the choicest cuts were put into jars and pickled for winter.

All in all life has been good for Myron Oxenford, so far.

One summer night Myron drank a few jars of moonshine and woke feeling like a skunk had slept on his tongue but he was still keen to add to his collection.

Even though he knows that he really shouldn’t be driving Myron backs out of his driveway on a mission.

A few weeks back a stranger he met at a bar offered him a shitload of money to make his wife disappear, an offer Myron couldn’t turn down.

Ten minutes he notices his target jogging along the side of the road on her usual morning constitutional.

Sally Nulksteader never knew what hit her when she was hit by Myron’s pickup and thrown down a small embankment.

Her husband told Myron to leave Sally’s body at the scene so that it will look like your everyday hit and run but Myron can’t resist temptation so after scrambling down the slope he carried the body back to his truck.

Sally Nulksteader will soon take pride of place on his mantlepiece of death.

Arriving home Myron’s blood is pumping full throttle and he knows that he has dug himself a hole that he can never escape from but at the same time he has in his possession the ultimate display specimen.

For three hours he drank shine as he sharpened his trusty knife on a whetstone.

Finally he stood and got down to doing what needed to be done, he skinned the carcass threw some meat on the skillet and pickled the rest.

Unbeknown’s to Myron for the past five months a lone house fly has been buzzing around his cabin as he slept feeding his drool to an eagle and a misshapen cougar that he couldn’t stuff properly.

The two roadkill victims have been sitting on the mantle for months but the precious liquid the fly has been feeding them has moistened their organs and slowly but surely life is being restored.

On his last day on earth Myron woke to a commotion coming from the living room and goes to investigate.

The cougar bounds from the mantlepiece and kills the roadkill merchant with a single bite to the back of the neck.

When the big cat has eaten his fill the eagle swoops down and picks at the bones and remaining meat.

Myron Oxenford now resides in hell well and truly stuffed.

PART TWO.

Brett Nulksteader looks up at the clock for perhaps the tenth time in the past five minutes.

His wife Sally left for her morning run an hour ago and hopefully by now the deed has been done and she wont be returning.

But he waits until mid morning before he calls the police to report her missing.

The desk sergeant at the Holbrook police station tells the obviously distraught Mr Nulksteader ‘Listen Sally has more than likely stopped for some shopping or is visiting a friend’

‘We are new to the area sergeant Murhpy so Sally has had a chance to make any friends and her handbag is here so she has no money on her’.

‘Plus why doesn’t she answer her phone? I am telling you something terrible has happened’.

Please Mr Nulksteader try to remain calm because i am sure that Sally will walk through the door at any minute but if she hasn’t returned by tomorrow we will launch an investigation’

After smoking cigarette after cigarette Brett can’t stand the tension anymore and he really needs to know if Myron came through for him and with no phone reception out in the woods Brett has no alternitive but to drive out there.

Jumping into his car Brett decides to travel the route that Sally normally goes on her run every morning and a few miles from home he notices a huge wet patch on the side of the road glistening in the morning sun.

Trembling with excitement he pulls over to have a closer look, maybe the blood is from a deer or moose but than Brett notices a running shoe a few yards down an embankment.

After spending a few minutes searching no body is found and shaking with fury Brett knows that Myron must have taken Sally back to his cabin.

‘Why couldn’t the asshole just follow the plan?’

At this point Brett should of just driven out to Myrons place but his ego wouldn’t let him so he calls the cops and tells them that he has found what he believes is his wives running shoe down an embankment on Potters Road.

Ten minutes later a squad car arrives and two uniformed cops climb out.

The elder of the pair introduces himself ‘Good morning Mr Nulksteader i am sergeant Coverdale and my partner is corporal Bolin i understand that you have found what you believe is your wives shoe?

Yes officer i reported my wife missing this morning after she didn’t return from her run’

‘Where is the shoe Mr Nulksteader just point where it is’ Coverdale demands.

‘Um sorry but i picked it up and put it on the front seat of my car’

‘You really should of left it where you found it’Bolin pipes up’Now you have trampled over the scene of an accident and potentially a crime scene’

‘Sorry officer but i was just hoping to find Sally alive and well so i wasn’t thinking about a crime scene’

Bolin a slight native american relents a little ‘I understand Mr Nulksteader, we will organize a K9 unit but in the meantime just take a set in the back of the squad car while my partner and i have a look around’

Brett nods his head and takes a seat, he watches the two cops intently hoping that they don’t find any evidence linking Myron to the scene because Brett knows that the old timer would turn on him in a heartbeat.

On a rocky outcrop a mere twenty yards above the two cops a misshapen cougar sits on his haunches ready to pounce.

The stitches that Myron applied a few months back are starting to come apart and the creatures insides are beginning to poke through.

The deranged big cat is hungry but he is wary of the human activity so he turns tail and slinks away.

A K9 unit arrived soon after and six bloodhounds started running around in excitement waiting for their handler to give them the command to seek.

The handler a grumpy old army veteran named Dru Standridge has been helping the local police for years helping to locate many folk both dead and alive.

Stanbridge who some say resembles the old cowboy actor Walter Brennan reaches into a coat pocket and takes a long drink from a flask.

His dogs are going ballistic as he leads them to the blood stain and after a quick sniff the bloodhounds get their bearing trot off in an easterly direction.

In the back seat of the cop car Brett Nulksteader rubs sweaty palms on his jeans when he realizes the dogs are heading towards Myron’s cabin.

All he can hope for is that Myron has disposed of Sally’s remains out in the sticks someplace where the dogs will lose the scent and his wife will never be found.

Six weeks prior Sally was taking a shower when her cell phone rang, Brett let it ring but it is unusual for Sally to receive calls late at night so he answers and listens to the message’ Hello sweetheart i cant wait to see you again tomorrow and we can make love again and again.’

Brett deletes the message and waits to confront his wife when she has finished.

But as he waits Brett blood boils in rage and he comes to the decision that she has to go permanently and the the old man he met in the bar a few days later while drowning his sorrows.

The stranger was none other then Myron Oxenford the towns roadkill merchant and amateur taxidermist.

After hearing of his drinking buddies martial problems he agrees to make her disappear forever’ Give give me $20,000 and you will never see her again.

‘OK but make sure that she is buried deep so the wildlife can’t dig her up because if her body is found you and i will both go to jail for a very long time’.

‘Don’t worry Brett you can rely on me to do the job’ Myron responds then the two strangers went their seperate ways.

Of course Myron had no intention of burying the body, he has always wanting a human trophy to sit on his mantlepiece plus the $20,000 being an added bonus.

Now as the police cruiser follows the dogs out to Myron’s cabin Brett shakes his head at his own stupidity.

How could he have been to reach out to a total stranger to kill his wife?

15 minutes later the dogs are sniffing and whimpering outside the cabin’s front door.

When the cops arrive Brennan has bad news’ Judging by the way my dogs are reacting i am positive that you have a deceased person inside’

Coverdale and Bolin were both hoping that Sally Nulksteader was in some sort of accident and is laying in the brush somewhere waiting to be found but the dogs led them straight here so both officers draw their weapons and Coverdale being the senior partner knocks on the door.

Suddenly the blood hounds start howling and begin to round in circles with their tails between their legs ‘Officers there is something inside that is scaring the dogs maybe you should ring for backup’

‘Control your animals Mr Stanbridge’ Coverdale orders but the huge African American soon shuts up when an evil stench descends upon all present.

Officer Bolin fresh out of the academy takes charge ‘Stanbridge help is on the help so please take your dogs bacck to your van and get the fuck out of here’

The dog handler is now visibly shaking’ Officers please listen to me, i have never seen my dogs act this way before, i am telling you that something terrible has happened inside the cabin so we should go back to your car and wait for the backup to get here’

The only reply is an agonizing scream AARRRGGGG ‘Get this fucking thing off me’ Bolin and Stanbridge watch in astonishment as the huge officer is dragged away by a mangy deformed cougar.

Bolin Can’t get a shot off in fear of hitting partner but soon it is too late when with a bite to the back of his neck the big cat kills Coverdale.

There is no way in hell that Bolin is going to let the cougar eat his partner so he takes a few tentative steps forward to put the cougar down but the cat moves fast and Bolin joins his partner on the ground with his throat ripped open.

The officers blood mingles together and the dogs run to the hills scared out of their minds.

Stanbridge scrambles into the back of the cruiser next to Brett’ Holy fucking shit did you see what that cougar did to the cops? plus there is something worse inside that cabin’

All Brett can do nod his head and try to squirm out of sight then his eyes drift over to the cougar that has dragged one of the cops bodies over to an oak tree where it is feeding with relish.

‘Jesus on a stick’ Stanbridge screams’ We need to get out of here right now before that cat finishes it meal and comes looking for dessert’

Pointing a bony finger the old man croaks’ The keys are still in the ignition so climb over and drive as fast as you can’

Brett is tempted to do what the old codger says but he has to make sure that his wife and Myron are dead and if they are still he will finish them off before a troop of cops get here.

With both his Myron and Sally unable to speak against him his murderous plan will remain a secret.

Calm down Stanbridge i need to go inside and find my wife to make sure she is safe and sound’ Stanbridge knows that there is no way that anyone is safe and sound inside that cabin but the old man is beyond caring.

Brett looks over to the cougar munching on what looks like a femur bone and is confident that the cat wouldn’t leave a fresh kill so he steps outside’ Just stay calm until reinforcements get here but i need to find me wife’ and with a quick glance at the contented cat Brett hurries over to the front door of the cabin and luckily it is unlocked.

The stench of blood and human waste hit him in the chest like a tidal wave and for an instant he is tempted to escape but he has to make sure that no one is alive to tell tales so he takes another step inside.

A lone fly sits on the mantlepiece watching the intruder with interest, the insect has been lapping up the blood and other liquids from the body of the taxidermist as it slowly begins to decompose.

The fly has been drip feeding the liquids into the mouth of the stuffed and stitched human sitting pride of place beside him on the mantle just like it fed the cougar enjoying a meal outside and an eagle perched up on a shelf above a dresser.

If the fly could smile it surely would because yesterday the human’s heart began to pulse slowly.

Now the female is primed and ready to give her husband a welcome he wont forget in a hurry.

The fly rubs it’s wings together in anticipation of another fresh blood meal and it wont be long before it can dig in.

Hello Brett where in the fuck have you been?’

Brett’s head snaps around at the sound of his wife’s voice ‘Up here darling i now reside with the dead and the damned ‘ Brett looks up to see Sally looking like she has been sewn together by a drunk DR Frankenstein.

‘Sorry that i am not looking my best but i was run over by a truck, stuffed and stitched like a christmas turkey and displayed up here on the mantle like a whore in a cathouse so forgive me if i am no longer to your taste but i will savior your demise.

It takes a second or two for Brett’s brain to comprehend what the creature said to him and before the words sink in Sally springs down slamming him to the floor knocking the wind from his lungs.

While her husband struggles for breath Sally rummages around in Myron’s taxidermy kit until she finds a needle and thread’ Now hold still Brett as i sew your murderous words closed forever more and i warn you dear that if you move i will snap your neck like a chicken’

She then proceeds to use the needle and thread sewing her husbands mouth until it like the stitches on an all game baseball.

Brett gurgles in total terror and soon the fly enters the fray.

It hovers around Brett’s left nostril before settling on an eyeball then it finds its way inside his skull and begins to vacuum the vital fluids from his brain.

In a few hours Brett will be left in a permanent state, the hateful husband will spend the rest of his life under care never to utter another word.

As he dies the eagle swoops and begins to pick at the flesh but Sally screams’ No leave him be there will be lots of food for us in the future mark my words’

Police sirens are getting louder so Sally opens the front door and hurries past a terrified Dru Stanbridge still seated in the back of the cop car terrified out of his wits.

She strolls over to the cougar resting after consuming his large meal and scratches the kitty behind the ears .

The cat is annoyed having its sleep interrupted but instantly gets to its feet and follows his fellow roadkill survivor out into the night where they soon vanish from view.

After walking a few miles in a tangle undergrowth they are soon joined by a bald headed eagle that flies from tree to tree leading the way.

A fly lands on Sally’s shoulder and settles down for a long trek.

The gruesome foursome steadily stroll toward destination unknown so please keep your doors locked and your windows shut.

Part Three coming soon.

THE END.

She Dug Me Up

20 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by stevenjohnno in stories

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Tags

blood, cruelty, death, horror, magnolia, monster, revenge, winter

My name was Norman Babbage and i am currently residing four foot beneath the surface in my own backyard.

Th worms have been very busy today, I sense and feel them as they squirm and wriggle between my ribs, turning my rotting flesh into nutrient rich compost.

I have been down here in the dank damp earth for two weeks now ever since my wife Maureen split my head open with a hammer while i slept.

After committing the dastardly deed the murderous bitch wrapped me in the bed sheet, dragged me down the stairs and out into the backyard where under the cover of darkness she rolled me into a hole that i had dug a few weeks prior.

My killer told me that she was planning on buying a few magnolia trees to screen our house from the neighbors and silly me believed her.

Maureen and i had been married for only five years and in that time her love for me descended into a cesspool of hate.

We met at a local bowling alley where we got to talking and i soon forgot all about the game, it was love at first sight.

Maureen was big even back then and easily out weighed me by thirty pounds or more, she had long blonde hair and a pleasant smile.

Before i knew it we had convened to a motel room where we made love until the sun come up.

As the two of us drank our coffee the next morning Maureen called me ‘Stormin’ Norman’ and said i fucked like a love struck teenager.

Than she grabbed my hand in a vise like grip and uttered the words ‘You are mine now Norman, you can never leave me’

I should have walked out there and then but i didn’t think she was serious but she was, deadly serious.

Maureen was 23 years old and i had just turned 25.

Six months later we were married and moved into a house at 343 Hillside Drive Glendale California.

The first year of our union was fairly smooth sailing but i had noticed that Maureen was very clingy and would hardly let me out of the house unless i needed to use the bathroom or when i went to work at the post office.

When my shift was over Maureen would be waiting outside in her old Corolla and soon i began to feel like a prisoner in my own home.

If i said that i was thinking of going for a few beers with my work mates Maureen would tag along and make the situation very uncomfortable and soon my friends stopped asking me to go with them.

I grew increasingly anxious and that is when i first thought about leaving my wife and getting my life back.

Maureen must have sensed my unease because one night a week or so later i was in the bathroom shaving before i went to work when she sidled up behind me and at first i thought she was after some loving but i was sorely mistaken.

‘Don’t even think about leaving me Norman because if you do i will hunt you down and drag you home’

‘Have a good hard look in the mirror Norman, go on you ugly little excuse for a man, remember Norman you are mine and the only way you will leave me is in a pine box’

I look in the mirror and i don’t like what i see, Maureen is right i am a geeky looking man your typical nerd plus i am also a coward so i don’t say a word as i change into my work uniform and silently get in her car and she drives me to the post office. ‘See you after work Norman, remember i will be waiting’

For almost another two years i put up with her mental and physical abuse but my frustration was about to boil over , i couldn’t deal with her shit or stay silent any longer so the bitch came home from grocery shopping i was going to confront her and demand a divorce.

Maureen arrived home in a foul mood as usual ‘Norman can you get your finger out of your ass and give me a hand around here, i am tired of being your slave’

I now realize that i should have moved out while she was gone but i needed to confront her face to face ‘Maureen i am leaving today and i won’t be back,you have made my life a misery and i can’t take it anymore’

‘Sure thing Norman pack your bags and get the fuck out of here’

That wasn’t the reaction i was expecting but i quickly threw a few things into suitcase and headed towards the door when Maureen called from the kitchen ‘I can drive you to the bus station if you like but i forgot where i put the car keys’

I look at the hall table where she usually leaves her keys but they aren’t there maybe she left them on the coffee table.?

As i turn to have a look WHACK WHACK WHACK I didn’t feel any pain as the rolling pin cracked open my skull and i believe that i was dead before i hit the floor.

Nor did have any comprehension as my body was dragged out into the backyard and deposited into the hole that i had dug for Maureens Magnolia tree’s.

The Magnolia’s were delivered yesterday waiting to be planted into the ground and now that my body would provide them with essential nutrients i am sure Maureen will fill in the hole and i will disappear forever.

When i was covered by dirt and the moonlight was blotted out for the final time i didn’t bat an eyelid or shed a single tear.

For all intents and purposes i am dead.

The worms are having a fine old time feasting on my decaying flesh and every now and then i would get a drenching when Maureen watered the magnolia’s to make sure the tree established and my memory would stay buried for eternity.

But all of my wives efforts would soon come back and bite her on her huge oversized ass.

As i lay in the dank damp ground the roots of the magnolia weaved between my bones supporting me like an old friend.

For Maureen the situation will soon become very grave, very grave indeed.

Maureen Babbage is sitting out on the back porch enjoying a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

It has been a week since she buried her husband and she knows that sooner or later someone will come looking for him.

Yesterday she rang his boss at the post office and told that Norman had run off to New York with a girlfriend so don’t expect him back anytime soon.

Plus hopefully it will be a while before the cops come snooping around because Maureen has plans to move down to Mexico and start a new life.

Stubbing out her cigarette she wanders into the yard to do a spot of gardening’

The magnolia trees are settling in nicely and hopefully the roots are digging deep helping the worms to dispose of Normans carcass.

Grabbing the hose she gives the trees another good soaking ‘Sorry Norman but if anyone was to end our it would be me and not a spineless piece of shit like you’

‘Now be a good boy and give the bugs a good feed so my magnolia’s can grow big and strong, something that you never were and never will be.’

Four feet below the deceased Norman Babbage soaks up the water that flows past his half devoured tongue.

As the precious liquid permeates into his system his ears listens to the stinging words coming down from above.

Norman chews on a root and digests the protein with gusto because he knows that even though he is still dead one day that bitch will walking and breathing will be brought to justice.

A few days later Maureen is beginning to show some signs of stress.

The Magnolia trees are starting to look unhealthy particularly the one she planted above Norman’s corpse.

Surely Norman’s rotting flesh and the copious amounts of water it has received the trees should be thriving so why are they dropping leaves.?

As she smokes another cigarette Maureen sneaks glances out to her magnolia’s like a mother wolf eyeing her prey.

She knows that somehow her dead husband is responsible for her misery.

Even in death the asshole continues to curse her life ‘Why can’t the bastard just up and die already?’

Night after night Maureen goes out to the porch and every night her paranoia cloaks her in a thick black cloud.

The coffee has been replaced by a bottle of gin the customary cigarette glows like a firefly as she draws in the soothing smoke.

As she swallows a mouthful of gin she picks up a krispy kreme donut and the ever expanding Maureen inhales the sugar in one breath.

Through bloodshot eyes she scans the backyard for any signs of activity but for now the coast is clear.

Another donut is about to be dispatched when the voice of her long dead mother enters her alcohol soaked sugar laden brain ‘Maureen you know that you should never have done what you did, but drinking gin and eating donuts wont undo the deed’

In defiance Maureen empties the bottle in one gulp ‘Fuck you mother and the horse you rode in on’

Remember Maureen that you have always been a big girl but now you are fat and if you continue in your ways, well i am afraid for you Maureen’.

Cut back on the alcohol and sugar and don’t let the darkness infest your brain and everything will be ok’

Goodnight sweetheart don’t let the bed bugs bite’

Maureen shudders as the old bitches voice fades away ‘Thanks for the advice Mom but why don’t you just fuck off and stop interfering’

When no reply is forthcoming Maureen opens another bottle of gin and has a long swallow than she stumbles off to bed ‘It isn’t the bed bugs i am worried about mother it is what lays beneath the magnolia’

As the murderess sleeps she moans with a mixture of pain and pleasure but soon the noise transcends into a snore that causes all of the dogs in the neighborhood to scurry away and hide.

Out in the backyard the leaves from the magnolia trees continue to drop and beneath the surface the roots have evolved , now instead of soaking up the water and nutrients and feeding the tree they now direct all the life giving goodness into the blood and bones of the slain human.

Soon the decaying flesh will renew and his tormented mind will mend and seek vengeance.

The following days continue to be a bane of misery for Maureen.

She now enjoys a liquid breakfast lunch and dinner and the donuts and cigarettes are constant companions by her side.

Deep down she knows that Norman is still to blame for all the wrongness in her life, so tomorrow she will go and buy herself a spade ‘OK motherfucker so you want to play? Now it is my turn’

Next morning Norman is enjoying a bit of peace and quiet relaxing as his body continues to heal when he feels a disturbance in the soil.

A glint of metal catches a dead fish eye and a smile of sorts forms on his face ‘Good god the stupid bitch is digging me up to make sure i am still down here’

When the sun hits his body Norman he doesn’t react ( because he is still technically dead) ‘Jesus Maureen you have really let yourself go, now go away and eat another donut but leave some room in that ample stomach because soon i will be force feeding you a shit load of trouble’

Maureen looks down at her still dead husband and a smile cracks her face as she refills the hole ‘How could i have been so stupid to believe that Norman had somehow come back to life and was responsible for my misery’

Satisfied that her husband is down in the hole where he belongs Maureen heads inside for a well earned drink.

The fog thickens outside the Babbage household, winter is almost here but Maureen is sleeping nice and cozy in her bed.

She doesn’t feel the cold snap approaching or see the magnolia roots creeping around the backyard whilst they wait for their master to give the order to strike.

As she dreams evil thoughts Maureen is oblivious that her life is about to turn into a living hell.

When dawn arrives the birds are chirping feverishly as the eat all the fruits and berries they can manage before they fly south for the winter.

As they fly from tree to tree the birds give the magnolia trees a wide berth because they know that death is lurking below.

Maureen wakes to the sound of the birds eating a little too loud for her liking ‘Shut the fuck up you feathered assholes can’t a person get any sleep around here?’

Knowing that she wont get back to sleep Maureen sticks a foot out from beneath the blankets and once satisfied that it isn’t too cold she climbs out and waddles towards the bathroom.

Out beneath the magnolia Norman is waving his arms around conducting the roots into a well orchestrated frenzy.

He knows that despite his recent rejuvenation his time is limited because once the ground the ground freezes the magnolia will become dormant and he will die again.

Now Maureen has to join him in his grave before it is too late so he plucks one thick root with a bony finger and the root slides up the stairs seeking its victim like a mamba stalking its prey.

Maureen rubs the sleep from her eyes as she on the toilet doing her business.

Then she lets out a strangled scream as a magnolia root appears beneath the bathroom door ‘What in the fuck?’ Maureen whispers as she tries to push herself away from the intruder but there is nowhere to go.

Maureen nervously tinkles every last drop of urine from her body as she stares at the crack beneath the door and for a minute it looks like the root has gone and Maureen prays to the heavens vowing never to drink another drop of gin ever again.

She stands to adjust her clothing when the root one inch round shoots through the narrow opening and wraps itself around her left ankle in a death grip and pulls her off her feet.

There is no way the Maureen is going to fit but the root really couldn’t give a shit and it yanks with all its might and both of Maureens legs snap with a wicked snap that sends all of the birds outside to wing and they take off towards Mexico at break neck speed.

Th bathroom door splinters and Maureen explodes out into her bedroom where she desperately tries to grab something to stop herself being dragged to her doom but the root is having none of that and pulls her across the carpet like a dog pulling a sled up in Alaska.

Maureen becomes aware that her sweat pants and undergarments are wrapped around her knees ‘Please at least let me pull up my pants so if i am to die at least i can leave this world with some dignity’

From out in the garden there comes a muffled reply ‘You haven’t got a dignified bone in your body Maureen, all you have ever done is look out for yourself and treat other people like shit’

‘And if there is a God Maureen you will never get to meet him because you are going to hell where you will burn for eternity’

Maureen sobs in terror at the sound of her dead husbands voice but even with two broken legs and a tree root wrapped an ankle her meanness surfaces ‘Well if it isn’t stormin’ Norman back from the grave, see you soon and when i get my hands on you i will kill you again motherfucker’

The root tightens its grip and Maureen gets the message and clamps her mouth shut for the first time in her life.

But it doesn’t last for long because when she starts to descend the stairs in screams in pain and total terror.

BIONK BIONK BIONK

The back of Maureen’s head strikes the first three steps and she bites her tongue and blood clouds her vision, only twenty two steps to go.

BIONK BIONK BIONK

Upon reaching the bottom step the voice from beyond decides that this is the perfect time for another chat ‘Sorry about that Maureen that last step was a doozy’

‘Soon we will be together once again but i am sorry to tell you that it will be a brief reunion.

Maureen’s tongue is bloody and swollen but she still manages ‘FOOK YOU NORMAN’

As she is dragged past the vegetable that Norman planted a couple of years ago Maureen grimaces in pain but remembers that the pumpkin’s were plentiful and made excellent soup plus the tomatoes were plump and tasty.

She offers no resistance as she is pulled along the well manicured lawn.

Her fingers and thumbs leave ten shallow furrows in the grass that would be ideal to plant cucumber and maybe some radish and chives.

Maureen sigh’s in frustration ‘If only i was a better person then Norman would still be alive and i wouldn’t be in this this predicament’

In his crypt beneath the magnolia Norman gets little comfort from his wives torment as the root delivers her faster then the post office ever could.

He sits at the entrance propped up by a tangle of roots, his decaying body now resembles a bloated spider waiting to devour its next meal.

Hello Maureen sorry to drag you away from your beauty sleep bur it wasn’t working anyway’

‘Come join me, I promise to make to quick and painless;

Maureen doesn’t argue or complain as her husbands bony hand grips her wrist and guides her over the threshold.

The couples flesh and memories seep down into the earth where they blend together in a mixture of oil of water, damned to rest together in turmoil.

THE END.

Roadkill ( Mantle Piece of Death )

11 Saturday Apr 2020

Posted by stevenjohnno in stories

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Tags

america, bald eagle, blood, cannibalism, cougar, murder, roadkill, taxidermist

As soon as the sun disappeared below the horizon a family of raccoons scampered from the safety of their burrow on the endless search for food.

The mother raccoon keeps an eye out for predators while her two youngsters dig for worms and grubs whilst the male raccoon runs over to a nearby creek in the hope of catching a fish or two to feed his hungry brood.

After ten minutes the father raccoon grows increasingly frustrated when he fails to catch anything but then he suddenly remembers a spot downstream where he caught a huge catfish a while back.

But to get there he has to cross a gravel road , he has traversed this road on many occasions but this time the little rascal is in mortal danger.

Just as he stepped onto the road a pickup truck travelling at speed hits the tiny creature killing him instantly.

The raccoon is one of man animals that will killed on the roads across america today, roadkill on a massive scale.

58 year old Myron Oxenford has been employed at Bilford county Mississippi for just on forty years and he takes great pride in his job.

Every day except for the lords day he drives his pickup around the county scraping roadkill from the streets and depositing them to the side so other animals don’t get killed as they eat the kill.

Myron is a big man who some say resembles Kenny Rogers having a very bad day.

Today Myron is is a good mood as he picks up his keys for another day of keeping the streets of Bilford county clean and tidy and even though he probably wont admit Myron has a strange fixation for roadkill.

An hour into his shift Myron is cruising down a backwater road when he spots a dead raccoon in the middle of the road fifty yards ahead.

The raccoon is still relatively fresh and its skin is undamaged perfect for Myron’s weird hobby.

He is an amateur taxidermist and this critter will give him hours of stuffing pleasure.

At 3.30 pm Myron heads home with another collection of animals to keep him fed for weeks.

Most of them are to mangled to be stuffed and mounted except for the raccoon who looks like it could still be alive if not for a broken neck.

Myron skins the motley crew of squirrel, rattlesnake,gopher and groundhog and chops the meat into bite size pieces and throws it into a huge pot along with a few cups of broth and salt and pepper.

As he waits for his meal to cook Myron places the unfortunate raccoon’s pelt onto an armature stand and begins to stuff it with materid’s that are supposed to bring life back to dead animal but Myron’s taxidermy skills are below par so now the raccoon resembles a misshapen creature from an Edgar Allen Poe novel.

After decades of drinking over proof moonshine Myron brain has turned to mush and now he believes that if he talks to all the stuffed animals that decorate his cabin that one day they will all come back to life and run back into the woods alive and kicking.

So he always leaves a window open in case that day eventuates.

What Myron doesn’t know is that for a few months a tiny field mouse has been coming into his bedroom while he sleeps and has been drinking the pools of drool that collect on his pillow every night

Homer Simpson himself would be proud at the amount of saliva that dribbles and the mouse takes great joy in drinking the liquid and running out into the living room feeding the precious fluid into the mouths of the stuffed and mounted animals that sit on shelves and in particular the rodent feeds a bald eagle and cougar that sit on top of a mantle piece.

After indulging in a few too many jars of moonshine Myron wakes with a throbbing headache and a mouth dryer than the Saraha Desert.

So Myron drinks another jar to keep the gremlins at bay then after a shower he feels healthy enough to go about another day.

He grabs a glass of water before leaving the house but stops in his tracks and stares long and hard at the bald eagle on the mantle piece that he stuffed and mounted a few months ago.

His eyes must be playing tricks but he could have sworn that the eagle moved its wings a second ago but Myron has a laugh when he feels the breeze coming in the open window so he closes it and goes off to work.

26 year old Sally Nulksteader is out enjoying an early morning run along a back road grateful for an opportunity to get out in the sun while her husband Brett looks after their twin boys who turned one back in July.

Her track shoes hit the road hard as Sally runs around a bend but she doesn’t hear anything but the soothing sound coming from her ear bubs.

Sadly She will never touch her boys or hear their laughter ever again.

Myron is still feeling a little queasy as he drives a too fast around a sweeping bend.

His eyes widen is dread when he notices the lady running on the side of the road and he screams in horror when he feels her body under the wheels of his pickup.

‘Holy fucking shit’ Myron whispers not quite believing what has just happened.

He can still taste the alcohol on his breath and knows that he would be well and truly over the limit so he puts his foot down to flee the scene.

But than a voice whispers in his ear ‘What are you doing Myron? I prime piece of roadkill is there for the taking so go back and take it home and it will become your masterpiece’

Myron slams on his brakes reverses back and throws Sally Nulksteader’s body in the back of his pickup.

And to give himself an alibi he calls his boss and tells him that he has the flu and will spend the day in bed.

Myron spends an hour carefully removing the skin from the body of his first human display item.

He drapes the skin over an armature stand and leaves it to dry while he cuts her flesh from her bones and throws the tidbits into the pot with a few carrots and onions .

The unused meat in placed in sterilized jars and placed in his pantry where it will come in handy when the cold weather hits.

After eating his first meal of human flesh Myron grabs a jar of moonshine and goes into his room for an afternoon nap.

After waiting an hour to make sure it is safe the rejuvenated eagle swoops down from the mantle piece and begins to rip pieces of meat from the human skeleton littering the living room floor.

As the eagle eats gaining strength with every bite the cougar stays in place because it has another victim in mind.

A few hours later Myron staggers from his bedroom with the taste of human flesh still in his mouth and he is eager for another meal.

Then from its perch on the mantle piece the cougar springs down knocking Myron to the floor.

The big cat could just bite the back of its victims neck killing it instantly but the cougar wants this human to suffer so all it does in sit on the stunned man.

The eagle swoops down and using a piece of sinew it sews Myron’s mouth closed and ties his hands behind his back.

Then the raptor tears both eyeballs from their sockets and swallows them whole.

Myron writhes on the floor in agony as the raptor and cougar begin to feed.

The pair eat slowly at first but the blood soon awakens their taste buds and they get down to business ripping Myron apart eating him alive.

The amateur taxidermist screams in silent agony as the animals that he stuffed and mounted months ago finally put him out of his misery.

Now Myron Oxenford is the one who is well and truly stuffed.

THE END.

Incognito Mosquito

19 Saturday Oct 2019

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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Tags

blood, disease, malaria, mosquitos, murder, nuclear blast, scientist, smallpox, sweden

It is 8 pm and Dr Stefan Johansson is checking his emails before calling it a night.

58 year old Johansson is a world renowned genetic scientist who is minor celebrity in his native Sweden after he won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2016 after he developed a simple blood test for the early detection of certain cancers.

A breakthrough that has the potential to save millions of lives worldwide.

For the last few months he has been working on a new treatment for malaria and the results so far are very promising.

But on the Wednesday evening Stefan is feeling a little apprehensive as he reads an email from his superior at Stockholm’s Centre of Genetics and Disease Control Professor Marke Pietermann.

Stefan is certain that Pietermann is jealous of his success so getting summoned to the Professor’s office at 9 am tomorrow morning can be nothing but bad news.

Stefan arrives a few minutes before nine the following morning and knocks on Pietermann’s office door ‘Good morning Dr Johansson I trust you slept well? Would you like a cup of coffee before I get down to business or shall I begin?’

Stefan looks at the mousy little man and nods for him to continue ‘Dr Johansson what I am about to tell will come as a complete shock to you but I am sorry to tell you that because of a huge cut to the Centre’s budget for the next financial year you have become excess to our requirements’

It takes Stefan a few seconds to comprehend what his asshole boss just said but when the words finally sink in the explodes out of his chair in rage.

‘Excess to your requirements! You really are a pompous prick aren’t you? I have won the Nobel Peace Prize for god sake and I am on the verge of a huge breakthrough in the treatment of malaria and you tell me that I am excess to your requirements! what a prize cunt you are Pietermann’

‘Calm down Dr Johansson there is no need for the foul language’

A scientist of your standing and reputation will have no trouble finding a new position’

‘Please clean out your desk and vacate the premises before 11 am Dr Johansson and make sure that any documents and research papers you have in your office stay here at the Centre because I am sure that I and a few of my colleagues will be able to finish what you started. Good day Dr Johansson’

Stefan cant believe what he is hearing and before he can control his rage he lands a vicious punch to the jaw of his former boss ‘See you in hell asshole’

Rubbing his knuckles Stefan rushes to his office and tosses any documents relating to his research into a wastepaper basket and sets it on fire than after wiping the hard drive on his computer clean.

After a quick look around to make sure he hasn’t left anything that Pietermann and his cronies can use he strides towards the door than it a fit of madness he opens a sealed glass cabinet and removes a vial of a virulent strain of malaria and slips it into a coat pocket.

A loud knock on the door startles Stefan and he turns to see an armed security guard standing on the threshold ‘ Sorry Dr Johansson but I have been ordered to escort you off the premises immediately’

Humiliated and despondent Stefan follows the guard out to the carpark and into the unknown.

Later that same day Stefan is arrested for assault and battery and is consequently sentenced by a judge to thirty days in prison.

Because of his status in the scientific world his arrest and imprisonment make headline news across Sweden.

All networks cover the story and the nation hears the sad tale of how a former Nobel Peace Prize winner can be reduced to nothing but a common criminal all because of Pietermann’s jealousy and greed.

Stefan was going to use his new treatment for malaria for the common good of people across the globe but now with a heart full of black is quest now is to wipe humanity from this planet starting with Professor Marke Pietermann but it will have to look like an accident because he would be suspect number one in a murder case.

Stefan is released from prison a month later and there was one good thing to come out of his confinement and that was that it gave him plenty of time to think and the one thing that he constantly thought about was using the mosquito’s that he has in his laboratory in his garage at home to create the ultimate murder weapon.

Working day and night Stefan hardly eats and survives on three hours sleep a night as he concentrates on creating a mosquito with wings that beat silently so they can approach their victim in slealth mode.

Also the incognito mosquito’s will possess a titanium outer shell that will make the mozzies virtually unsquashable.

And almost twelve months after his release twelve matt black Mosquito’s hover noiselessly over a petri dish than they settle on the edge of the dish and dip their tweeters in the blood and begin to feed.

The blood is laced with the nasty strain of malaria that Stefan stole from the Centre on the day he was fired.

Now he watches his proteges drink with hungry eyes knowing that the day of reckoning is fast approaching.

Any day now his squadron of modified mozzies will be ready to seek and destroy.

At his house in one of Stockholm’s most prestigious suburbs Professor Marke Pietermann is enjoying a rare evening without any paperwork to attend to so he opens a bottle of cognac and pours a snifter of the amber liquid and settles down to watch the opera on his huge ass TV.

After the fourth glass Pietermann wouldn’t have noticed if a herd of elephants entered the room so he never saw or felt twelve twerking tweeters pierce the skin on the back of his neck and start to drink his blood as they pumped him full of poison.

Watching through binoculars from across the street Stefan smiles in triumph when Pietermann collapses to the floor as the murderous mosquito’s continue to bleed him dry and fill him with malaria.

Satisfied with a job well done Stefan places a petri dish full of his own blood on a nearby window sill and a few minutes later his dozen accessories to murder land on the dish and the thirteen murderers head on home.

A week later Stefan is relaxing at home getting used to doing a whole lot of nothing when his thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of his landline ‘Good morning Dr Johansson my name is Greta Gunn and I know that you and Professor Pietermann didn’t exactly see eye to eye but I thought that I should call you and let you know that the Professor died last Friday’

‘I am sorry to hear the sad news Greta but who are you exactly?’

‘Oh I am sorry Doctor I really should have introduced myself better, I was Professor Pietermann’s assistant here at Stockholm’s Centre of Genetic’s and Disease Control and I don’t wish to sound insensitive but the Professors untimely death has created a vacancy here T the Centre and the board wants to know if you would be interested in filling the vacancy?’

‘Why thank you Greta could you please tell the board that I would be delighted to take up their kind offer’

‘I will certainly inform the board of your acceptance would you be available to begin your tenure here first thing Monday morning?’

‘Sure thing Greta I shall see you then’

Stefan can’t help but smile at the irony it seems that murder does pay.

Out in the garage the twelve masquerading Mosquito’s are having a snack on their masters blood as they dip their tweeters into another petri dish.

They are all grateful for the meal but they are growing increasingly bored by the lack of action

They like drinking blood like any other Mosquito but these mozzies were bred to kill and kill and so far business has been slow.

As his squadron of killer mosquito’s wait impatiently out in the garage in his plush living room Stefan is getting ready for his first day back working for his former employer.

How sweet it will be to sit on Pietermann’s office chair and enjoy the trappings as he bathes in the glory that he so richly deserves.

Killing Pietermann turned Stefan’s life completely around going from dust to diamonds and dreams into reality or so Stefan thinks.

Because sometimes a diamond can actually be a fake and the best dreams and turn into your worst nightmare.

At home Stefan’s pet mozzies have gone completely stir crazy.

They desperately need a fresh blood meal evertday not the stale out of date liquid their master expects them to drink plus their tweeters are aching to stab and slash a new victim.

The leader of the troop is a large mosquito named Fletcher Christian who has a blood lust greater than a vampire on heat and he takes it upon himself to organize a mutiny.

A vote is taken and it is agreed that their master is no longer fit to control their destiny so the twelve desperado’s decide that having outlived his usefulness Stefan has to go

As the mosquito’s plot his demise Stefan is in his new office struggling to with the role he played in the killing of Pietermann, he doesn’t regret the murder itself but the constant fear that the police will come knocking on his door in the middle of the night and drag him off to prison again.

Just after 2 pm the dozen mutinous mozzies land on a window sill at Stockholms Centre of Genetic’s and Disease Control and their leader Fletcher Christian orders his troops to fly inside and immobilize anyone that they come across while he will search for their master and dispose of him.

The twelve incognito mosquito’s fly silently from office to office feeding on their victims as they inject their payload of misery.

Some of the unfortunate’s receive a lethal dose of malaria while others will live to fight another day.

Stefan is busy working and has no idea that his twelve creations has staged a mutiny with him being the priority target.

He is concentrating on his computer screen and doesn’t sense the presence of Fletcher Christian hovering behind him.

Christian lands on the back of Stefan’s neck with the intention of killing his victim but at the last second he changes his mind and pushes his tweeter which is now the size of a hypodermic needle in between C4 and C5 vertebrate leaving Stefan immobile for life he will never walk again.

Christian hovers in front of his victims eyes so he can see who inflicted the damage and is now the new master.

Stefan can do nothing but watch as one of his creatures flies off to inflict more damage.

Christian joins his squadron on the window sill.

They have all drunk so much blood over the last couple of days and have grown to an enormous size for a mosquito.

The twelve now resemble sleek stealth bombers with the menace of a pit bull and I pity anyone who gets in their way.

Before they head home Christian decides to fly a final mission down to the lower just to make sure that they haven’t missed another human full of fresh blood.

Dr Frank Gruber a German scientist on loan to the Centre is working alone in his sealed laboratory unaware of the carnage upstairs.

He is wearing a full body protective suit and draws oxygen from a tank strapped to his back.

Before on a counter is a petri dish containing smallpox 35687 one of the deadliest diseases known to mankind.

When the dozen mosquito’s reach the lower level Christian immediately notices the human in the laboratory.

They congregate around a small glass panel searching for access but the glass is two inches thick and the walls of the lab are twice the thickness but made from top grade titanium designed to withstand a nuclear blast.

Surely enough to hold up against a strike from a dozen stealth mosquito’s?

Christian spends an hour searching for a way inside but the laboratory is sealed tighter than a gnat’s asshole.

Desperate to gain access to the blood source Christian flies twenty yards back from the small glass panel.

He takes off as fast as a ballistic bullet and slams into the panel.

At first the glass holds firm but after the third attack a small hairline crack appears than when Christian slams into the glass for the 25th time the glass shatters and the twelve thirsty mozzies fly inside.

Dr Gruber has been watching in horror as the metal creature repeatedly slammed into the glass panel but he was confident that it would withstand the attack.

But the mosquito is relentless and when the glass finally shattered Gruber could do nothing to prevent twelve marauders from entering his lab.

All he can hope for is that his protective will do its job and lucky for Gruber it does.

After wasting time and energy for over ten minutes trying to get to the humans blood Christian calls a halt to the attack and the twelve mozzies land on a petri dish to rest and hopefully a drink.

But the petri dish holds no liquid just a shitload of small spores that hold little interest to a blood sucking mosquito so after a brief rest the twelve take to the sky unaware that they have all ingested enough small pox to kill every man woman and child all over northern Europe.

Perhaps enough to wipe out humanity on earth.

THE END

Who will save the day?

Maybe time is up for mankind.

To find out if anyone on this planet will survive past 2019 you will need to come back and read part two if you and I are still alive.

‘Ribbons Of Blood (5) The Final Chapter’

14 Saturday Sep 2019

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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Tags

blood, murder, olivetti, police, supernatural, typewriter, virginia

This story began about a year ago when acclaimed novelist Victor Bradstreet suffering a terrible bout of writers block drove to his cabin in the woods in rural Virginia to gain some inspiration.

Close to his destination he stopped at Alberts General Store to buy some supplies.

As he wandered the aisles Victor noticed an old beat up Olivetti typewriter sitting on a clearance table.

Thinking that the typewriter might be a lucky charm and inspire him to write again he bought the machine and went on his way.

On the first night while Victor slept the Olivetti typed a novel that went on to become a bestseller .

Afraid that the typewriter would steal his thunder Victor set fire to the machine in his backyard and despite being badly damaged the Olivetti refused to die and after recuperating it attacked Victor .

Unleashing it’s ink ribbons the typewriter strangled Victor than consumed his body without leaving a single drop of blood behind.

Over the following weeks the typewriter also disposed of Victors publisher Penelope Clutterbuck his daughter Abigail plus the investigating officer Detective Mike Peterson.

The Olivetti also killed a brave K9 dog named Monty owned by Trooper Clyde Ybanez.

The Olivetti was eventually captured by the FBI and imprisoned.

It was executed by firing squad than smelted down and recycled into steel cans.

But once again the Olivetti wasn’t ready to die and tiny pieces of steel detached from the cans and travelled along the highway all the way to Springwood Virginia and into the basement of the house owned by none other than Trooper Ybanez.

There the tiny pieces of steel melded together and three days later the Olivetti was back with a vengeance.

Startled to see the Olivetti in his basement Ybanez decides to use the murderous machine for his own selfish needs.

When his K9 dog Monty was killed by the typewriter Ybanez was tormented by two of his fellow officers,Detectives Kevin Godley and Lionel Crème.

Luring the two Detectives to a motel on the outskirts of town Trooper Ybanez waits down in the carpark and watches the two Detectives enter room 6 where they were ambushed and consumed by the hungry machine.

Feeling ashamed by what he has done Clyde and feeling the need to get rid of the evidence he wraps the unsuspecting typewriter in duct tape.

He loads the machine into his car and drives to a campground that he used to visit back in his younger days.

Feeling distraught and frightened Clyde failed to notice that the duct tape was beginning to fray.

He carried the Typewriter to the edge of a long drop shitter and threw it deep into the brown.

Rubbing his hands together thinking that his ordeal is finally over turns away to return home when he is taken by surprise as the typewriter unleashes the ribbons of blood.

They wrap around his throat and pull him down into the poo of turds.

‘Oh shit’ were Clyde’s last words before hit the surface and sank.

The Final Chapter

When he hit the murky water Trooper Ybanez had the good sense to close his mouth and hold his breath.

As the typewriter and Clyde sink deeper and deeper into the muck luckily for the trooper the Olivetti releases its stranglehold and wraps the ink ribbons around a tree root six feet below the surface.

Clyde has been holding his breath for over a minute and he knows that he hasn’t much time before he succumbs so using his police training plus hundreds of sessions spent in the gym he manages to grapple up the ribbons and stand on the root leaving only his face above the surface.

He just hopes that no one comes to use the shitter because he is right in the firing line .

But at the same it might be his only chance to escape from this hell hole.

Travelling salesman Dave Jenkins is in a happy mood because he is heading after ten days on the road , he nods his head to a classic Deep Purple song as he thinks about seeing his wife and kids again.

His stomach is full after pigging out on a huge bowl of chilli at a truck stop a half hour ago.

But as Purple gives way to Aerosmith Daves stomach starts to grumble and complain.

At first he isn’t that concerned because he has eaten chilli a thousand times before and it has always been a case of winding the window down and letting a few go and all in well in the world .

But now Dave knows that he doesn’t find a restroom soon than things could turn messy.

Dave clenches his butt cheeks tight as he desperately search looks out for a rest stop sign .

As his gut screams for mercy Dave realises that maybe he shouldn’t have eaten the chilli so fast but having not had anything to eat all day he scoffed down the bowl in record time and now he is paying a heavy price.

Than a huge sign catches his eye ‘South End Campground ‘ two miles ahead.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief Dave parks close to a shitter and walks inside loosening his belt and dropping his pants before taking a seat above a long drop.

Feeling exposed Dave just wants to do his business and be on his way but nothing is happening.

‘That would be right ,I am ready to launch a torpedo but the hatch is closed’

Below Dave’s lily white butt Trooper Ybanez was close to giving up hope of being rescued plus half expecting the Olivetti to grab him by the ankles and drag him down.

‘HELP’ he screams up to the nasty looking crack blocking the sun.

Peering down between his legs Dave is surprised to see a face staring up at him ‘What are you doing down there son ? Did you fall in ?’ Never mind just hang on and I will go fetch some rope’

Pulling up his pants Dave grabs a length of rope and hurries back to the trapped shit covered soul.

In all of the excitement his bowels have turned to concrete and it will probably take a jackhammer to gouge out his next stool.

But he can’t worry about that now,he has a man to save and there and there is no time to lose.

Trooper Ybanez is down to his last reserve ‘s of strength when the rope is lowered down into the abyss .

He quickly ties the rope under his arms and gives it a yank’OK pull me up before my entire world turns to shit’

Dave yells’Hang on buddy,i will tie the other end to my bumper and get you out of there’

And a minute later a brown water logged figure is pulled from the hole.

Dave appears with a blanket and a bottle of water but the stench stops him in his tracks. ‘Holy shit buddy ,you smell worse than a dead skunk left out in the sun too long’

Clyde wants to scream at his rescuer ‘Well I have been stuck down in a shitter for over seven hours’ but he just smiles glad to be alive.

He peels off his shit soaked clothes and shivers in shock as the good Samaritan hoses him down from head to toe ‘There you go buddy almost as good as new ,now wrap yourself in the blanket and I can be on my way’

The two men embrace “Thanks for saving my life Dave ,my name is Clyde Ybanez by the way,if you are ever down near Springwood call in and I will buy you a beer’ Dave waves farewell and drives away,

Clyde waits a minute to compose himself before climbing into his car and heads home hoping that he never sets foot in that campground again.

Before he joins the highway he glances back at the shitter and screams at the Olivetti ” Die motherfucker die’

Fifteen feet beneath the fetid water a muffled voice replies “see you soon Trooper Ybanez see you soon’

Three months later

Trooper Ybanez has returned to the Springwood police department in the K9 unit.

His life is somewhat stable after his ordeal with the crazy typewriter and his dip in the shitter.

He still feels guilty about his role in having his two colleagues Detectives Godley and Crème killed by the Olivetti.

Now his main issue is personel hygiene , he showers at least three times a day and applies deordorant hourly.

But that is a small price to pay to still be alive and even though he might smell better and has returned to work he cant quite shake the feeling that he hasn’t seen the last from the blood thirsty Olivetti deep down in the shitter.

Back at the campground a big truck emblazoned with ‘We Suck Shit So You Don’t Have To’ down both sides backs up and parks ten meters from the shitter.

The driver a huge bear of a man with more tattoo’s than a Mexican drug lord climbs down from his rig.

Percy Hollister has been sucking shit for 35 years and he is happy to do so .it might be a stinker of a job but someone has to do it plus the pay is pretty damn good.

He drags a huge suction hose to the edge of the long drop and throws it into the cesspool.

As the hose sucks up the liquid turds Percy lights a cigarette to help pass the time ( even though there is enough methane gas in the air to launch a space shuttle ).

As he draws the smoke into his lungs he listens to country music blaring from the rigs sound system.

Between drags he sings along with ‘Someone Stole My Dog ( But Left My Girlfriend Behind ) oblivious to the danger nearby.

If he knew what is lurking down among the turds he would throw his cigarette away and get the fuck out of there.

A loud crunching sound coming from the shitter grabs his attention ‘What in the fuck now’ he mutters as he strides towards the shitter.

He peers down and is surprised to see a square object blocking the hose sabotaging his chance to finish the job and go home and have a few beers and maybe have a snuggle with his wife Cindy Lou.

Despite his best efforts to remove the object it reuses to budge so with no other option Percy hauls in the hose to remove the object by hand and when the hose reaches the surface Percy recognizes the culprit as a vintage Olivetti typewriter.

Having worked in the effluent business for many years Percy is no longer surprised at what some people throw into the sewer system.

His home is full of discarded items that after a wash in hot soapy water gave them a new lease on life.

And Percy is positive that with a good scrub the Olivetti will become a great addition to his collection or fetch top dollar at auction.

Holding his breath places the shit covered typewriter into a burlap sack and he leaves the campground completely unaware that he is travelling with the stowaway from hell.

Percy arrives home two hours later and is happy to see his wife waiting for him ,he climbs down from his rig carrying the foul smelling sack ‘Christ Percy what have you brought home this time? It smells like death warmed up’

‘Sorry Cindy Lou it is an old typewriter that I retrieved from a long drop over near Springwood’

‘Well don’t you dare take that chunk of crap into the house ,put it in the mudroom straight away before my nose falls off my face in fright’

Percy shakes his head in annoyance but he does what his wife asks and takes the machine into the mudroom for a good scrub down and twenty minutes later the discarded Olivetti shines like a diamond in the rough.

Pleased with a job well done Percy heads inside for a well deserved beer or two but unfortunately there was no snuggle for Percy that night.

Cindy Lou loves Percy dearly but she is tired of all the stinking crap that he brings home from work everyday.

But she has to admit that she is intrigued by the typewriter that he brought home yesterday so once her husband goes to work she enters the mudroom and is immediately dazzled by the Olivetti’s brilliance.

The machine must have been manufactured over forty years ago ,now it looks like it just rolled off the production line so Cindy Lou vows to apoligise to Percy when he gets home because she is certain that the typewriter could fetch up to $1,000 on Ebay.

She is deciding whether to buy a new pair of shoes with the money or spend big on a complete makeover when

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

‘Huh?’ Cindy Lou blinks in astonishment as the keys on the typewriter go up and down. ‘What in the fuck?’ Still no quite believing what she is seeing Cindy Lou peers in for a closer look and sure enough the keys are moving so she leans in even closer.

Typewriters were invented to create words but this Olivetti prefers action and it strikes with deadly force.

Cindy Lou is taken completely by surprise and offers little resistance as the ribbons of blood choke off her airways and pull her into the machine.

It has been a long time since the Olivetti ate a decent blood meal and it savours every drop as Cindy Lou’s body is pulverised into a pulp that will sustain the typewriter for weeks.

Ten hours later Percy arrives home hungry and also hoping that Cindy Lou has thawed out a bit because he really could do with some loving tonight.

He is wearing a watch that someone lost down a shitter ,sure it might be a bit on the nose but it keeps perfect time .

Feeling lucky Percy calls out to his wife ‘Hey Cindy Lou how about we go to that fancy Italian restaurant that you like than come home and fool around a bit?’

Percy is a little puzzled when his wife doesn’t answer because it is late and she is usually home ,maybe she is having a lie down?’

But upon entering the bedroom his wife is still nowhere to be found.

Now Percy is really starting to get worried because Cindy Lou is usually home to greet him when he arrives from work.

Feeling frantic Percy again looks at the clock and decides that if Cindy Lou isn’t home in two hours he will call the police.

Than he remembers that he hasn’t checked the mudroom yet ‘But surely his wife would have heard him calling out?’

Hurrying into the mudroom Percy calls out his wives name but the room is empty except for a shiny Olivetti looking like the cat that swallowed the cream.

Percy is amazed at how brand new and pristine the typewriter appears to be ,he only gave it a spit and a polish but this Olivetti looks like a spanking new machine.

Percy notices a small blemish and on closer inspection he gasps at the sight of a single drop of blood ‘Did Cindy Lou cut herself and go to the hospital?’

Concerned for his wives welfare Percy loses focus for a second and the Olivetti strikes.

Hungry for another blood meal it shoots out the ink ribbons that wrap around his wrist and pull his hand into the mechanism.

Soon Percy’s whole arm is chewed and swallowed like scraps disappearing down a garbage disposal.

He fights and pleads for his life but he soon loses strength and is devoured limb by limb until every morsel of meat is eaten so now Percy is nothing but a memory.

The disappearance of Percy and Cindy Lou Hollister continues to baffle the authorities to this day,Did the couple run away to start a new life somewhere? Were they abducted by aliens?

How can two people just vanish without a trace?

The case soon goes cold and six months later the family home is sold to a couple from New York looking for a sea change while the furniture and appliances were sold to a local dealer for a song.

The Olivetti unwanted by the dealer was passed on to Albert Finnegan the owner of Albert’s General Store.

The very store that Victor Bradstreet the acclaimed novelist first encountered the typewriter twelve months back.

The Olivetti once again sits on a clearance table gathering dust waiting for a new owner to buy it and give it a home.

The typewriter could have easily killed Albert or any of the customers that came into his establishment but the Olivetti has bigger fish to fry.

It plans on eating one last Mac Happy meal before going into hibernation for a century or two.

And that meal will be Trooper Clyde Ybanez.

Ten miles away Clyde is doing a spot of fishing on the bank of the Shenandoah River but he isn’t having much luck.

The trout aren’t biting and Clyde is having a hard time concentrating on his favorite past hobby all because he just cant shake the feeling the crazy typewriter that he threw in the shitter has somehow escaped and is looking at wiping the late clean.

Knowing that the only fish he will ear today will be covered in batter and deep fried Trooper Ybanez packs up his rods and drives his Subaru into town.

Twenty minutes he pulls into the carpark in front of Albert’s General Store but as soon as he opens the car door the same weird feeling he had back at the river settles in the pit of his stomach.

Drawing his service revolver Trooper Ybanez enters the store where he is greeted by the owner ‘Whoa what is going on Clyde? I don’t think my prices are that bad.’

‘Sorry Albert but I thought you had a situation here my mistake,but I have to tell you that your frozen turkeys are a bit on the expensive side.’

Holstering his weapon Trooper Ybanez shares a laugh with Albert but the strange feeling remains.

He orders his lunch than decides to grab a few essentials while waiting for the fish to cook.

Deciding whether to buy a loaf of sourdough or rolls Trooper glances up and his world falls in.

Sitting thirty feet away staring back at him is his nemesis the evil Olivetti typewriter.

Surely there is more than one Olivetti in the world Clyde tells himself but deep down in his bowels he knows that this is the same typewriter from the shitter.

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

Looking back he screams ‘Albert get the fuck out of here right now and lock the door behind you NOW ALBERT NOW’

‘Hello Trooper Ybanez so we meet again’

I have been waiting for you Trooper Ybanez because I have to return to hell soon and I plan on taking you with me so I can have a snack on the way’

‘Or better yet I will keep you alive and torture the shit out of you for eternity’

‘Buckle up buddy cause you are going for a ride’

Trooper Ybanez knows that there is only once course of action open to him, he needs to killer the mother fucking typewriter and this time for good.

No more Mr Nice Guy.

‘Fuck you and the horse you rode in on you key tapping dinosaur ,I don’t like the heat so tell the devil to go fuck himself’

Knowing that his words with enrage the typewriter Trooper Ybanez braces for what is to come and he isn’t disappointed.

The ink ribbons might be the Olivetti’s weapon of choice but they are also its biggest weakness.

When the Olivetti unleashes the ribbons of blood Clyde grabs them and ties the murder weapons to a support beam than using a crowbar from aisle three he jams the tool into typewriters mechanism.

Now the machine is disarmed and ready for the taking but the fucking thing can still type ‘Well done Trooper Ybanez see you on the flip side’

Clyde watches in amazement as the typewriter liquefies and flows through the cracks between the floorboards as it travels towards earths core.

The evil Olivetti is now back in hell where it belongs.

‘Home sweet home asshole ,don’t come back anytime soon’

THE END

Goiter

10 Saturday Aug 2019

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

australias got talent, blood, doll, dummy, horror, knife, ventriloquist

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.

THE END

‘Ribbons of Blood (4) Dented and Demented’

08 Saturday Jun 2019

Posted by stevenjohnno in stories

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

blood, murder, olivetti, revenge, sewage, shit, strangle, typewriter, USA, virginia

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.

PART FOUR

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.

THE END

Good Little Doggie ( Part Two )

04 Friday Jan 2019

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

blood, dog, dog attack, hospital, knife, survival

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.

WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF

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.

THE END

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

stevenjohnstonblog

~ Short stories about anything and everything

Tag Archives: blood

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