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‘Ribbons Of Blood (5) The Final Chapter’

14 Saturday Sep 2019

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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

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

‘Ribbons of Blood (4) Dented and Demented’

08 Saturday Jun 2019

Posted by in stories

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

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

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

A decision that Victor would soon regret.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ribbons Of Blood ( Part Three )

02 Saturday Feb 2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Victor was consumed and disappeared without trace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What surely she is here somewhere?’

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

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

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

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

HELLO ABIGAIL

Part Three

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

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

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

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

so it begins to type.

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

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

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

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

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

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

So they immediately radio for back up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Godley and Creme can’t hide their disappointment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Monty the loyal bloodhound breaks the stalemate.

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

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

Maybe now his master will get the idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now what will it be boys?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He opens the cell door and steps inside.

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

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

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

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

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

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

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

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

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

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

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

kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk kerclunk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So it sits straight and waits for impact.

Twelve rifles poke through the bars of the cell in readiness

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE END

Part Four is coming soon so keep out.

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

Ribbons Of Blood ( Two )

23 Saturday Jun 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

PART TWO

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

And now it is ready to feed again.

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

All she wants is to find a manuscript and go home

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

But before she can press a key

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

It is almost like it has had a transfusion.

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

 

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

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

Abigail almost pees her pants when she reads

HELLO ABIGAIL

 

 

THE END

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

You have been warned.

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

Ribbons Of Blood

26 Friday Jan 2018

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

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

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

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

But that was four years ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

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

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

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

‘I haven’t written this good in years’

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

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

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

Victor beams with pride and looks over at the typewriter.

And the typewriter looks back.

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

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

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

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

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

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

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

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

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

Victor leans forward and types’Feed you what?

kerclack  kerclack kerclack kerclack

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

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

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

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

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

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

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp

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

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

And his blood ceases to flow.

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

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

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

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

‘Burn olivetti burn’

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

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

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

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

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

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

Victor wakes up so fast he almost bounced out of bed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kerclack kerclack kerclack kerclack

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

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

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

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

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

The flies will make sure of that

THE END

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