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| Kumango |
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| KUMANGO By Ovidiu Bufnila “My name is Magicien! And who are you, punk? Are you the pathetic wise man from Takla Makan? Is it you who are withstanding the priestess Enciclope? What? Do you not believe in the imminent discovery of the secret of the solar worlds? That is why I left my narrative structure, dummy, to clear you up. It is not the politicians who get things done around here, on Terra Encylopedica. Neither do the demons, nor the motor- bikers from hell. Not even the anarchists. The things are spun by the virtual whirlpools and by magnetic fields. Do you know what is a fifth degree utopia, dummy? Or maybe you’re a determined Euclidean fan? I, Magicien, can unveil for you the mystery of the worlds, not the one of the laws they do not really exist, as they are nonsense”. That is how Magicien whispered in the ear of Azgozbanian Azgoban, the first physicist of Klemuria. Of course, the wise man rushed right to the Interpol, then to FBI and to United States where he made a complaint against Magicien, this fabulous figure who came out of a free and independent imagination. The American encyclopedists looked for Azgoban and invited him in a live TV show by WorldNet while ECOLON - the main electronic watcher taped everything that the cells of Azgoban whispered. His cells split with laughter during all the show, because it was only them that knew the terrible truth of all the worlds. And the truth is that poor bodies are nothing but huge containers in which the free states of the consciousness are transferred to lower energy levels so that they might be protected of the pressure of magnetic fields. The one who deals with such fascinating things and the way he actually does it, is a matter of galactic security. “I, Kumango, am the conductor of this cosmic ballet. Who am I? What do you mean “who am I?” I am your ringleader, you fool, I rule this bloody stellar barracks that you’re calling galaxy. That is it! Go to work earth people, look, the pressure is going down and the rollers are stopping! What do you mean which rollers? It is those things in which we chop all the meat of the moribund species to make meatballs out of it, for the feasts of the big guys of the Universe”. “Magicien? No, he is a jerk, a conjurer who wants to ease you of your purse. He is not an illusionist. He is the chef who will cook a pie à la New York Encyclopedicus out of your flesh, you morons”. Translated by Ioana Bostan |
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| Added On: Tue Nov 4 2003 | Hits: 2 |
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| I'm Sorry (To my Unborn CHild |
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| I’m Sorry Two hearts beating fast, sweat dripping, sexual ecstasy, was what happened. Two bodies merged together doing similar motions making harmony together. A thin piece of barrier is the only thing that’s determining their future. Now knowing that it ripped from one thrust because you both were caught up in the moment. Burning souls, lacerated hearts hearts that been torn apart and need physical pleasure. The hormonal moans coming from my soul, the beautiful rhythm coming from my hips. His grunts and moans, making me want to keep that rhythm, making beautiful music to my ears. His manhood going deep in my warm ocean of love. Love I will give to only him. Going up and down, in and out, dipping into my luxurious honey. I sung a pitch no professional could have ever accomplished. I look into his eyes and see the love of my life. I see my future with him. He then returns that divine and blissful look. He looks into my eyes with a passion so deep, so sultry my soul begins to burn. He kisses me on my forehead, a kiss so vulnerable so soft and sweet. We climax together, having the sensation of a new beginning. As great as the existence in heaven. Our bodies no longer separate, no longer did we feel the pain as we did before, but we felt the satisfaction of fulfillment, the pain replaced with delight as we became one. That night I knew my life was changed. And yes the very outcome of change has arisen. Weeks went by, pain grew as those hours had hit 12 o’clock every night. Then sickness had came into play. My whole system had changed like the weather. Didn’t think I was conceiving a child since my cycle was coming on. But when I coughed and looked down upon my hands and saw that they were no longer pale brown but a ruby red, I got scared. I had to do something but didn’t know what. So giving my information to a stranger but one who can tell me what was happening to my body was the only way. And yes the outcome was unexpected. The one thing that I thought, that I sworn wouldn’t happen to me did. I was pregnant. My heart dropped and so did that sultry feeling I had for my future. Souls and hearts will be torn, trust wouldn’t be the same as before. Nothing will. Tears of physical and emotional pain came down my burning face leaving a path of fire. The place where my unborn child was resting began to hurt like hell. I started to bleed, to confused to know what was happening to me. Suddenly realizing that I was still taking the pills that suppose to prevent from all this from happening. When I ultimately stopped it was too late. Death came and took its prey. It has lurked into my “right full doings”, which I thought was best for me but now took my child. Souls and hearts will be torn, trust wouldn’t be the same as before. Nothing will. Tears of emotional pain came down my burning face leaving a path of fire. Not knowing what’s going to happen is one of the scariest things in the world. “I didn’t know the condom will break Didn’t know that I was conceiving a child Didn’t know that my child will never have a breath to take Didn’t know that vengeance can be so vile But now I know that the unexpected can ruin half of your life or just the one your holding within. “ To my unborn child: P.S. Didn’t know I had a life to provide for so how can I provide a name. Love your Mother, Desiree Renee Brooks Kismet |
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| Added On: Wed Nov 5 2003 | Hits: 2 |
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| feed -o-maniac |
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| I look like a starved creature but I really don’t mind. I look like a skeleton slightly skinned, I don’t mind. I look so thin not fed for days but I don’t mind. I look quite unhealthy but you guessed it right I don’t mind. People looked at me like as if I was infected by one of those top-notch diseases that’ll see to that nothing stays in your body except of course your organs, it wasn’t true so I didn’t mind. I did mind some time back… You wont grow fat eating food like a pig. Body appearance depends on individual’s metabolism, the genetic traits and so on, but I was keen on one thing- to grow fat, at least don’t look out of sorts in the midst of people. And what lot of advises people give for free- ‘to put on weight in so many days’. They do that for the ones who are fat too –to slim down in so and so days. So all I did when I had time was eat eat and eat. Didn’t care to see whether it was good or healthy. Followed people’s so called advises. Nothing worked. So I got into this bad habit of eating things from outside when I was all- alone. Mostly junkies. I used to order quite a bit of items. But it seemed like the enthusiasm and appetite left me as soon as I started eating. So all I did was pay the bill for food I rarely finished. It was one of those freaky Sundays when I had the whole day all to myself. I did what I liked the most eat sleep and then eat again. That evening I decided to have a party all to myself. Have dinner in a posh hotel- a menu that would include dishes with lots of steaming fats. I loaded my purse, wore a pant that didn’t stand on my hips cause I needed an indicator to analyze whether my stomach was full or not. Silly me in full form… I wanted to make up the occasion to the fullest. I had to make sure I ate the fullest of dinners. So what I did was, walked a lot on familiar territories near my house, jogged a little, ran a bit. Exercise improved my appetite, not much but just about enough to eat more and waste considerably lesser. I had already decided the place where I was going to feast myself on, but human mind are never made up until the last movement. It is bound to change as the options become too choosey. Mostly decisions are done on an impulse. That’s what happened to me. I saw a new restaurant. ”HAVE YOUR FILL”. Seemed like a very interesting name to a place to fill your stomach. It wasn’t appealing by appearance but the lighting from inside drew me in. it wasn’t too dim wasn’t too bright. I couldn’t see what was inside but was curious to know how it would look. I was drawn to the door like an insect drawn towards light. Drawn to the place like a predator towards its prey. Before touching the door I had a good look at it. The wooden door looked polished but carried a touch of authentic beauty. I was impressed. I felt the wood in my hand before turning the golden knob of the door. My eye took time to adjust in the not so bright inner. The room was lit up with candlelights. There was just a single table and chair on the center of the room and nothing else. I thought they must have closed early for the day was about to leave when I heard a voice Please take your seat I wasn’t even sure I heard it, but the words were repeated again. Please take your seat I searched for speakers both human and man-made, there weren’t any? So how the hell I was able to hear such crystal clear instructions. I felt fear just like any other normal human but some where in my mind I felt the need to explore, the joy of discovering something extraordinary. I walked unsteadily into the middle of the room. The table was made of the same wood the door was made. Brilliant discovery. The chair was cushioned and as I sat on it I felt like there wasn’t any other chair in the world that could offer a man such luxury of comfort. Comfort at what cost I wanted to know. Good evening sir may I take your order Oh my god, I thought. The voice I heard came from inside my head. Realization of it got me into complete astonished blankness in fear. It took me quite some time to recover to my own abnormal self. And this time around fear and other negative horrifying emotions were beginning to creep into me. But something brought it all down… What would you like to eat? Shall I offer you our special starters? Suddenly the emotion called hunger burst on me and I began thinking what to eat rather then pissing myself because some idiot was trying a new way to promote his hotel and it looked like I was the first person to drop in. scientific advancement at its peak. May as well enjoy it. With these thought in mind I began thinking where to begin with, but first I thought some thing was not quite right about the restaurant. They didn’t give me the menu card. Sir you don’t bother about the menu. We serve all the dishes in the world and since we are in the promotional phase we would like you to give us a feedback. That would be our payment. Wow I thought. This must be a dream. First I enter a new restaurant that has no one inside. Next it communicates all by itself into my brain –telepathy. It answers questions I don’t have to ask. And all I have to do is eat all the food I can and pay nothing. Can it get better than this even in the most wonderful dreams? There is one condition more sir. Ah ha… I knew there would be a catch in the deal. If at all there is wastage of food you order, you have to bear the consequences of facing a penalty for it. And you too shall bear the consequences if the food isn’t good. I replied in my mind. If he was trying to be funny so can I. Do not forget what I have told you sir. Bring me the food. We’ll talk about this stupidity later. I shouted silently, at the invisible waiter. I was increasingly getting irritated of him mind reading me. Just get me the food, I shouted just to prove that I wasn’t a costumer who took time for granted. I started ordering food in my mind. Tomato soup and mushroom soup for starters with finger chips. Nan with 4 side dishes( aloo Manchurian, paneer butter masala, malai kofta, and vegetable kurma). Kashmiri pulav, curd rice American chopsy Chola puri Noddles And for deserts I ordered chocolate brownie, apple pie, custard, black forest. I knew I would never finish all these stuffs but I imagined tasting a bit of everything would make me a satisfied man indeed. After all the food was free wasn’t it? Dishes came flying all around the room and landed on the table. I should have fainted to see such things appearing from nowhere. But my so-called greed and hunger suppressed logic. All I did was started eating with both my hands and would have done better if I had two pairs of them more. If I don’t tell you how the food was you wont forgive me. Believe me I had never tasted better food in my life. Before finishing my all time favorite ones that I ordered I desperately and madly ordered some of the dishes that tasted too good to resist. Food melted in my tongue. Then I began loosening my pant as I was felt it getting too tight. I was growing fat. I felt I had eaten beyond limits but a lot of dishes still remained on my table. As usual I was going to waste food. I felt a little guilty that I was about to do that even after I was warned not to do so. I began feeling very lethargic and rested myself on the comfy couch. I began slowing down my intake process. I stopped eating after sometime. I needed to wash my hand but looked at the table that had a lot of leftovers. Why the hell did I order this much and eat this little. Is that all? You are going to waste all that is in the table I did not know what to say. The voice had lost the respect it had showed earlier. It was kind of rougher and very impolite. Yep that is all I can eat, I replied through my head, a little ashamed and afraid. You have to pay the penalty for committing the crime. Now I was angry. Who does he think he is to punish a civilian under the jurisdiction of the law? You have no rights to punish me you crackpot. I know people in top positions. You know what, I can even close down your hotel if I want. How dare you say you are going to penalize me? I was shouting my head of in anger I wanted to take advantage of the situation. When I calmed down the voice came out for the last time You’ll face the consequences. You are free to go. I really didn’t understand what the voice meant. But as soon as I realized I could go I left the place in a hurry. Something about what it told me in the end was giving me the creeps. The food had been too good and that to for free was like a fairyland tale. But this so called punishment was the only sick point of the wonderful night I had. Coming out of the restaurant it took me sometime before my adrenalin started pumping properly. I came home sweating because I had jogged myself out of that spooky place. I was dead tired. All alone in my house I felt a bit insecure for the first time in my life. I locked myself inside the bedroom and decided to sleep to return back to normal. One thing I decided before closing my eyes- however tempting it might be I will never enter the place again. My growling stomach woke me the early next morning. Then started a terrible sensation inside it that led me to the bathroom. Something started coming out of my throat. I vomited. I vomited everything I had eaten yesterday evening. I was surprised, astonished and disgusted. I should have digested everything by now but I had vomited the food that was not even partially digested. The food I vomited came directly from my stomach, the way it must have gone through my food pipe after I had chewed and swallowed it. There ends the matter. Is this what happens to people who eat food for free? Anyway now I am free from bondage. Bondage that I carried from my strange evening encounter. That is what I thought until… I was terribly hungry after empting my stomach completely. I decided to have breakfast –bread, jam and lots of butter. I prepared toasts of bread slices and spread liberal amount of jam and butter on it. And then sat in front of the TV and eat the sandwich. I ate it with a lot of relish. As I was licking my hand of the jam and butter I felt a tinge in my stomach. Something was making my stomach do a hip hop before I did the emptying everything on the sofa I was sitting. The bread, jam, butter and all. Now I was in no doubt that I was having a problem. That all day I tried eating, drinking nothing was possible. Even a glass of water couldn’t remain in my stomach for a long time. I planned going to the doctor then realized something that made me tremble with fear. Was I cursed yesterday? Is this the punishment I had been bestowed with for such a petty crime I had committed? The more I thought about it, I convinced myself that this is how I am going to die. When too many things bundle together and burden the human mind the net result would be only one thing fall sick. That’s what happened to me. And it had been quite some time since I ate something so I was too weak even to call up home. That night a friend of mine came home saw my plight and called the ambulance. Now I am at the hospital. I live only on drips. Doctors are yet to find out what the problem is. I asked my friend to check out the restaurant I had eaten the other day. I knew what he would say- that there was no such restaurant in that area. The last ounce of strength I had has gone into writing this last memory of mine. I have realized the mistake I have committed and am hoping to set things right if at all I get better. Food is something that you require to survive and wasting it is a crime that has to be set right. Small children have to be inculcated with a good quality of eating healthy and without wasting. Good foods still a luxury to many in the world. There are still people dying of hunger in parts of Africa and India and I was obsessed on growing fat eating and wasting precious food like a glutton. Last of all love and relish what you eat but don’t eat food because you like a particular dish more than the other. Remember the saying “if you eat something beyond limit even amurtham(nectar that makes you immortal) will turn into poison”. CAUTION: if at all you find a place to eat make sure you eat your fill without wastage or else you know what is going to happen. |
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| Added On: Mon Oct 2 2006 | Hits: 2 |
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| Donor |
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| Donor (a.k.a. waiting list) “You have liver cancer.” The doctor’s words slapped me like wet leather. I had thought the fevers and vomiting blood were the signs of an ulcer or a bad case of food poisoning. “You have a tumor the size of a golf ball, which cannot be removed without destroying the liver.” My father was an alcoholic for decades and was never sick a day in his life, and here I am burned with liver cancer and never had a drink in my 32 years on this planet. Sins of the father… I asked him my options. All I had left was to be put on the donor list, “but to be honest, the list has about a two year wait, and you only have approximately six months to live unless there is a spree of untimely deaths.” There go my plans for the Bahamas next summer. I walked out of the doctor’s office with a stack of pamphlets and enough prescriptions to set a meth-lab back for a month. The hospital hallway reeked of sterilized urine and disposable plastic. Doctors fresh out of college passed me, not yet outgrown the God complex of saving their first life. They had so much to look forward to-a wife, kids, money, maybe even the Nobel Prize. All I had to look forward to was a slow, painful death. The full impact of the situation didn’t hit me until the drive back to my apartment. I was sitting at the stop light, crying as if each tear could dissolve the tumor. In a fit of rage, I punched the horn. The car in front of me must have thought that I was letting him know the light turned green, he pulled out in oncoming traffic. The air was thick with screams and radiator fluid. It was anarchy yet poetic, quite possibly the most beautiful thing I have seen in my life. The wail of the ambulance and police sirens created an epiphany. The two drivers, now declared DOA, will be dissected and their precious organs will be harvested. This is my only hope. * * * The next day, I was like a mischievous child. I loosened tie-down straps on the backs of trucks, one good pot-hole, and a couple on vacations from Virginia get decapitated. Over inflate a couple of bald tires, and a gym teacher blows out and flips his SUV on his way to meet up with his 17 year old mistress. I never personally watched the accidents I just liked to hear people talk about the horrendous pile up on I26 or the car fire that had Second Street blocked for an hour and a half. Remember seeing the 18-wheeler that lost his trailer down highway 10 on the news? You guessed it. I never feel bad about what I’ve done, unless a child dies. A child’s organs are not developed enough to be used in an adult, and therefore, a useless death. That is why I tend to stay away from school busses, minivans, and SUVs. A station wagon on the other hand, usually means this person used to have small children in the late 80s, early 90s, meaning middle aged, middle class. These are the majority of registered organ donors in America. This target area tends to drive American made cars between three and ten years old. Higher end cars, and brand new cars tend to be owned by the upper class who generally feel they are better than others, and choose not to give organs to the undeserving. Caddillacs, Lincolns, and Buicks are usually owned by the elderly whose organs are almost never used due to deterioration. Older cars and pickup trucks are often the lower class and rednecks and are often backwoods creationists that feel you won’t get into heaven in you don’t have your kidneys. * * * About two months after my diagnosis, the doctor forced me to go to the cancer recovery support group at a near-by church. “Recovery” is a term that should be taken very lightly when talking about support groups these are people trying to cope with the fact that they are soon going to die. The organization’s sole purpose is to keep you from cowering in fear and attempting to sell your soul to Satan when you’re on your death bed. The people who go to these things are dead already, just a memory of the lives they used to live. This is their purgatory. If you ever wondered what death would look like with an aluminum walker, hit up the first Baptist church any night of the week. Every meeting, the numbers fluctuate some new victims come while the veterans either get a transplant or, as their obituaries read, they “succumb after a valiant struggle and passed to the other world.” After a few meetings, the pastor took me aside. He’s one of those born again Christian types, track marks, awkwardly cut greasy hair that obviously used to be to the shoulders at least, and tattoos of naked women covered up to become the Virgin Mary (you can still see nipples if you look hard enough). Outside the church, he lights up a cigarette and talks to me in a forced, uncomfortable manner. “God has a plan,” he reluctantly informed me, “and you… your part of his plan, every thing that we do, and are done to us are by the grace of God.” I told him that I understood. I lied and told him I was making my peace, and accepting my fate. He nodded, knowing that was a lie, just like everyone else does when they know they’re dying. In that parking lot, I realized I was less human than ever, I have become an animal the deaths I caused were out of basic survival instinct: they had something I needed to live. Something has to die for another to survive you like to eat don't you? This is survival of the fittest, no holds barred. * * * I could barely walk by winter, but I made myself get out the night of the first freeze. I wheezed as I dumped buckets of water and motor oil mixed into a milky sludge that freezes into the worst black ice imaginable. I was dumping the second bucket when I realized that the pastor was right, I am part of God’s plan. A heart, two lungs, two kidneys, and a liver each life I take saves six. Most of these people don’t even appreciate their lives, so why not give them to someone who wants nothing more than to live? About that time, I lost my breath and choked out dry vomit, a side effect of my chemo. On my hands and knees staring cross-eyed at the snow, painted with my blood & bile, I knew this would probably be my last chance to save myself. At that moment, I couldn’t really care less. Earlier at the supermarket, I injected some highly combustible chemicals into a few jugs of antifreeze, add a little heat and see a nice explosion. I also broke half the snow chains in the parking lot. All of this seemed so useless though, like eating cake when you’re not hungry. I take lives of people who don’t deserve to live to give life to those who wasted their lives with drugs and alcohol, all in a vain attempt to save my own undeserving life. Still I continued on, leaving a smoldering path of destruction in my wake… * * * As I write this, I realize these may be my last words. I realize now I had no right to take those lives, fear and vanity spawn a rancid disease. I should have taken my death sentence with dignity and made peace with my creator like everyone told me. My hair & my teeth are gone, my body soon to join. The hospital just called to say there is a donor liver with my name on it, if I can hold up until the ambulance gets here, I may pull through. God answers all of your prayers, he’s just a little backed up. * * * POLICE REPORT: At approximately 1 a.m. paramedics arrived at the suspect’s apartment to take him to surgery. After loading the suspect into the ambulance, the vehicle was hit head on by a drunk driver when attempting to leave the complex. When questioned, the drunk driver, one Anthony Davis, replied he had just received a new liver and was “taking it out for a test drive,” both paramedics survived, the suspect however, was killed on impact. After entering the suspect’s apartment, the attached confession was found on the table. |
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| Added On: Sat Oct 1 2005 | Hits: 2 |
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| Daemonblade |
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| It was like any other night. A long, relaxing stroll through the mild moonlit darkness. An excuse not to think any more, just to enjoy the stillness only 3 a.m. can bring. Wait, scratch that, it wasn’t still. Not any more. I could hear…. A car? This late? “Cops,” I said quietly, “I never met a single cop on bad terms before I started walking.” As if in response to my comment, the night was suddenly pierced by carnival flashes of red and blue. “Hold it right there, boy,” said the loudspeaker in a tinny Southern drawl thick with the false bravado of a tiny man with a large gun. I knew instantly that the cop and I were not going to be buddies, and my tranquil evening was going to end in a spacious cell in the nearest county jail. It had happened a few times before, but I try to avoid it if at all possible. It makes it easier for them to find me. I could hear booted feet behind me, but decided not to turn unless they asked me. Small-town cops can get trigger-happy in the wee hours of the morning. “Out a little late for a brisk constitutional, aren’t you son?” asked the voice above the boots. This wasn’t the one who had spoken over the loudspeaker. This one sounded a lot like my father. I hadn’t heard that voice in years. Spooky. “Could you turn around for me, please?” he asked. “Sure, officer,” I said, all peaches n’ cream, “Is there a problem?” “We’ve had some problems with vagrants lately.” “I’m just passing through, I can assure you.” “Sure you are, but I still gotta check you out, and to do that I’m gonna have to ask you to come with me. It won’t take long, then you can be on your way.” “Okey-dokey,” I sighed, holding out my hands. “No need for that, you’re not under arrest, not yet anyway,” he said, smiling. “Just hop in the cruiser and we’ll be on our way. “Are you nuts, Howard? Are you going to frisk him, or should we let him shoot us as we’re driving along?” This was Loudspeaker again, but what was that tremor in his voice? Fear? How strange that he should be afraid, I thought. There are much worse things than me out tonight. “Okay, Art, okay,” he yelled to the cruiser, “Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Turning back to me, he shrugged almost apologetically, “Sorry, but it is procedure.” “Fine with me,” I said, “But let me warn you I’m very ticklish.” That got a laugh out of him, but it ended abruptly when he felt the knife under my denim jacket. Well, knife isn’t exactly the right word for it. It’s more like a dagger or short sword, about eighteen inches long. It’s almost too big to hide. The cop drew it out of the sheath inside my jacket and gave a long whistle. Not only is it a tad big, but the blade is inscribed with runes and figures. I looked some of them up at a library a year or so ago, and as far as I can tell they’re some kind of pre-druidic language. Oh, and it seems to be made of some kind of silver alloy strong enough to scratch steel and not dull. Not exactly something you find on every wandering longhair you see. “Now, what in the heck is this?” he asked with a perplexed look on his face. A reasonable question, I thought, deserves a reasonable answer. “It’s a dagger used to kill demons,” I said. He just stood there, looking like they always do. Come see the crazy hippie, folks, only a dollar for admission. Oh well, another lost cause. He’d see, if he stuck around with me for long. His cop face was on, impassive and a little cold. I looked down and saw his hand was now on the butt of his police-issue .38. I sighed. C’est la vie. I ducked down into the back seat, and that old familiar odor of strong disinfectants and vomit was there as always, like an old friend. “Lookit this,” the older officer said, “You ever see anything like it?” “Big, shiny pigsticker, so what?” The younger one asked impatiently, “Let’s just get this guy processed so we can go home, okay?” “Fine, Art, fine.” He turned the lights off and pulled back out onto the asphalt with a jolt that made Art squawk. I chuckled. “Laugh it up, bum, we’ll see who’s laughing when UCK!” he was cut off as the cruiser came to a sudden halt, its back end jittering. “Very funny, Howie, my belt almost cut me in half!” Art yelled. I saw Howard through the mesh. He looked pale, almost ghostlike in the glow from the dashboard lights. “My foot’s still on the gas, Art.” “What the heck?” Art exclaimed, “Well, let your foot off so I can get out and check it out!” “You don’t want to do that,” I said. “Shut up, greaseball!” Art yelled, his voice quavering a bit. “Shut it down, Howard!” Howard let up on the gas pedal and the rear end stopped shimmying. “Okay, I’m getting out,” Art said. “Alright, I’ll call this in, then.” “Like hell! I’m not gonna have the guys laugh at us for the next three months just because we got spooked by our own cruiser. Just let me handle it, okay?” With that he threw open the door and angrily jumped out. He stood there beside the cruiser for a few minutes. “Doesn’t look like anything’s wrong from here, let me just…” He trailed off as he walked toward the back of the car. “How’s it look, Art?” Howard called out his window. “I told him,” I said. My voice hitched. I reached up to my cheek and felt wetness there. Crying? You’d think I’d gotten past that way back when. No such luck. “What are you talking about?” Howard asked? “They found me,” I murmured, “Again.” “Who found you? What the hell are you talking about?” Getting a tad hysterical. “Give me my knife,” I said quietly. His eyes widened and then something landed with a meaty thump in front of the cruiser. Howard turned on the brights and there was Art, minus his legs and head, of course. Howard screamed and threw open his door. Before he could bolt something grabbed him. Something big. All I could see was Howard’s body lifting quickly into the air. I heard a breathy wheeze, a crunch like the sound of someone biting deep into an apple, then silence. I could faintly hear the crickets out in the field beside the highway. Then the car lurched violently to one side. “Great,” I said, “Just great.” Leaning forward, I kicked at the heavy wire mesh between me and the front seat. It gave, just a bit. I kicked again, harder. And again. Finally, it gave way with a screech and I was able to crawl to the front. Just then I saw a large claw sink into the roof like it was clay. “No pressure,” I said with a little laugh. The knife wasn’t on the front seat. Crap. I reached down into the floorboard and nearly cut my hand open on it. I grabbed the hilt and dove out the door into the darkness. I ran into the pool of light cast by the headlights and crouched down. The thing climbed off the car slowly, sizing me up, unafraid. It was large and dark, almost reptilian, with glowing red eyes and fangs half as long as my knife. I’ve found that there are almost as many different types of them as of us humans, so this one was new to me. I don’t even try to classify them any more. “Hello darlin’, wanna dance?” I asked It emitted a raspy shriek and came at me then, but I had been ready for it before it had even touched the cruiser. I sprang from my crouch and met it head on. Leaping up into the air, I brought the knife down towards its neck with all my strength. It dodged, but not far enough. I buried the blade into its collarbone all the way to the hilt. It grabbed me then in a bear hug I knew I couldn’t get out of. Its eyes glowed with triumph and it began to squeeze. I heard my ribs creak and I could feel its fetid breath on me, like brimstone and blood. I looked at Death then, right into its bottomless eyes, soulless, like a shark’s. I smiled, and gave the dagger a sharp twist, cutting whatever excuse for a heart that thing had cleanly in two. “Goodnight, Gracie,” I said cheerfully. The light slowly went out of its surprised eyes and it crumpled lifelessly to the ground and began to smolder. Nothing would be left when the sun came up, just dust in the wind. I looked sadly at the two mutilated bodies, wondered if I could have done anything more to save them, and pushed the thought away quickly before I broke down entirely. I wiped my blade on the demon’s hide and slid it back into its sheath. I’d need it again, probably soon. “Well, crap,” I said, standing up and dusting off my knees, “ Why don’t they ever listen?” I stood there a moment, watching the demon smoke and the bodies grow cold. After awhile I turned away and began to jog away at a pace that would get me far, far away before first light. |
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| Added On: Mon Sep 29 2003 | Hits: 2 |
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