The Man in the Mirror

Chain mail

“How does your chain mail feel?” I ask him from the driver’s seat.

“It’s heavy,” he scowls.

*****

It all started one day when I was sitting in the parking lot of a Tim Horton’s, eating ham and Swiss cheese on a croissant with lettuce and tomato. I was half-way through my sandwich when I heard a knock on the back window of my mini-van. I thought at first that maybe it was someone I knew. I looked in both side mirrors to see if someone was approaching the front of the car but I saw no one on foot. When I looked in the rear-view however, there he was. Needless to say I jumped – I’d thought I was alone.

“What are you doing in my car?” I shrieked at the diminutive green man in my farthest back seat. I hopped out of the van before he could answer, which was silly, because I’d left my keys in the ignition. When I reached in through the window to retrieve them he spoke.

“You asked for me!”

“I did what? Who are you?”

He puffed up his chest and gave me a wide multi-cuspate-toothed smile. “I am your prince charming!” His sharply pointed ears twitched and his finely pronged nose lifted as he said this. He was obviously quite proud of his appearance.

“But you don’t look a bit like a prince charming to me!”

“I don’t?”

“You’re green!”

“Oh my!” he exclaimed, and he disappeared.

****

Three days later I heard a knock on the window of my van. I was driving at the time.

“I can’t look right now,” I said, because I was concentrating on the road.

“That’s okay,” came the same voice I had heard from the little green elf-like man.

As soon as I came to a stop light I tilted my head so I could see into the farthest back seat of the car. He wasn’t there. The light turned green. I started driving.

“Pull over,” he said.

“You’ll have to wait.” I was getting annoyed at this strange being I’d been anticipating for three long days.

Just as I got to a driveway, I heard, from directly behind me.

“Oh dear. I’m still a bit green.”

By the time I pulled over I was alone.

***

It was two weeks before I heard the knock on the back window of my van again. I had just pulled into the parking lot of the local mall, and was looking for a spot. It was raining heavily and I lacked an umbrella, but I needed drugs. From the drug store for a change.

“Are you still green?” I asked.

“No.” His voice was as smooth as silk and as deep as dark chocolate.

I found a spot and backed in, hoping for a glimpse of my prince charming. When I put the van in park I saw him leaning between the front seats, in my rear-view mirror. He was stunning. Everything I had ever imagined in a man and… that voice…

“I’m yours to do with whatever you wish.” 70% Cocoa.

“Stay here then, I just have to run in…” The store was about to close.

“I also belong to your van,” he disclosed in a timbre fit for only the bedroom.

“What the…”

“I can’t leave your van.”

“So what’s the use of having a prince charming?”

“We can go parking.”

When I came back from the drug store he was gone.

**

“Why do you even bother with the chain mail?” I ask him.

“I failed as a prince charming, I thought maybe you’d like a knight in shining armor.”

“Well there was that one time…” We’re at a stop sign. I look in the mirror and see the grin I’ve come to love more than life itself.

“That was fun,” he smirks.

“Why can’t we do that again?” I ask, starting to move down the street.

“Because regardless of what you want, you NEED a knight in shining armor now.”

“What for?” I ask.

*

I open my eyes and there is a light shining above me. Florescent. A face with a mask.

“How are you feeling?” I masculine voice with raised, groomed, eyebrows.

“My van…” I croak. I barely recongise my own voice.

“Ma’am, your van was totalled. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“No!” I screech.

I want to die.

The Ultimate Campfire Story


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Deep in the interior of Algonquin Park , far from civilization, Ty and Dennis stiffly lifted the canoe off their shoulders and dropped it as gently as their aching muscles would allow. Neither were used to the stress that alternately paddling and portaging had on their bodies. Having known each other only three days, neither wanted to be the first to admit eight hours was enough. It was their first day out. They had met through an online match-up site for 20something year old extreme campers and paired up. This particular trail, brutal as it was, wasn’t to be attempted alone.

“I’m thirsty, how ’bout you?” Ty asked, shrugging the water container from his shoulder.

“Sure.”

“Not much left.” Ty shook the bottle. “Maybe we’d better build a fire and boil some.”

Dennis nodded. “Good idea. I’ll collect the wood.”

“By the time we get the fire going it’s gonna start getting dark,” Ty said, looking up at the sky. The sun was mid way to sunset.

“You got a point. Wanna start setting up camp?”

“I’ll go take a piss then I’ll help you with the wood.”

“Sure,” Dennis said.

/////

At full dark, their water cooled and stored, dinner done and half their single bottle of scotch consumed, they sat beside the fire.

“So, you got a girlfriend?” Dennis asked.

“Nope, you?”

Dennis shook his head. “Not that I don’t want one…”

Ty nodded and looked down at his hands. “I got a little confession to make.”

Dennis looked at him sharply, poising to defend himself.

Ty laughed. “Little fuckin’ homophobic are ya?” He stood up and unzipped his fly and laughed again as Dennis shuffled his ass backwards on the log he was perched on.

“Don’t worry man, I’m only jokin’ ya.” He pulled up his fly and reseated himself. His demeanor turned serious. “I wish that’s all it was.”

“So, what is it then?”

“Do you like campfire stories Dennis?”

“Sure.”

“Have I got a doozy for you,” Ty grimaced. “You see, I’ve got these imaginary friends. Two of them.”

“Will they help with the canoe?” Dennis joked, the smile quickly falling from his face when Ty growled.

“They don’t carry canoes. It’s not a fuckin’ joke. They get into my dreams, they follow me around. I don’t want them, they’re just there. They make fun of me, make me choke on my food…” He leaned toward Dennis and whispered. “They jerk me off every night when I go to bed.”

Dennis cleared his throat and began to stack the dinner plates.

“Dennis.”

“What?” He didn’t look up from what he was doing.

“They’re here.”

“Okay man, knock it off. If this is your idea of a campfire story it’s not funny.”

“It’s not.”

“Glad you agree.”

“I mean it’s not just a campfire story. It’s true. They’ve been with me since I was a teenager.”

“Well you don’t have to tell me about it. I’m not fuckin’ interested man.” Dennis said as he walked away from the fire. “I’m going to take a crap.”

“I do have to tell you Dennis!” Ty called after him. “They want you too!”

“What did you say?” he asked, turning back.

Ty grinned. “Hurry up and take your crap and I’ll tell you what we’re really doing out here.”

“What the living fuck are you talking about? Are you threatening me?”

Ty held his palms up. “Not me, man. It’s all them.”

“For fuck’s sakes.” Dennis mumbled, walking away.

\\\\\

Dennis had a hard time finding his way back to the camp. After wandering around for a while in the dark he finally came across the smouldering remains of the fire. Ty was moving around in the single three-man tent they had brought along and Dennis cursed himself silently for not bringing his own. As he stepped toward the tent he stopped short. For a second he saw the ghostly figure of a man standing beside it.

Imagining things, he mumbled, sneering at himself. Fuckin’ Ty.

Thinking it better not to sleep beside a crazy man unarmed, he did a u-turn toward the canoe to retrieve a fish-gutting knife from inside the tool sack he had packed. He took one last look around the campsite and dropped to his knees in front of the tent door. He heard giggling. Male giggling. Squeezing his eyes shut he took a breath. With one hand on the handle of the knife in its sheath, attached to his belt he opened the flap.

Ty flicked on a flashlight, illuminating the tent.

“Hey Dennis, come and join us.”

Entirely nude, Ty sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag. Beside him was a man of about the same age and height as the two 20somethings, equally naked, smiling, and slowly jacking off both himself and Ty.

At the same time Dennis screamed, he pulled the small knife from its sheath and backed up. He was about to stand when he heard another man’s voice behind him.

“Mind if I join the party?”

By the time Dennis hit the other sleeping bag face-first he heard the laughter.

“Gotcha!” Ty taunted him. “I met these guys when I went to take a piss!”

Dennis could hear shuffling around inside the tent beside him but the naked men, the embarrassment of being scared, and the scoffing were the least of his worries. He didn’t even feel the pain. At first he thought he’d pissed himself. Then as the world went black, he realized he’d stabbed himself in the groin with the knife.

/////

“FUCK!!!! What the fuck are we going to do now? He fucking killed himself!!!” Ty, dressed in his jeans, sat beside the warm corpse of the man he’d met less than 4 days ago and stared at the blood that covered his hands and dripped from his elbows.

“Fucked if I know. I’m outta here,” said the naked man as he crawled toward the tent door.

“Wait! You can’t leave me now!” Ty screamed into the dark, watching the naked man, along with his companion, disappear into the darkness.

“You promised us fresh meat,” the naked man called back. “Fuck you.”

“But who’s going to carry the canoe?”

“You said it yourself,” said the fading voice. “We don’t carry canoes.”

Average Joe

English: Fishing rods on Worthing Pier This pa...

English: Fishing rods on Worthing Pier

I’m just an average Joe. I like fishin’ and layin’ around in the back yard. I like working with my hands and taking long walks down by the pier.

In fact I was down there just the other day. There was this guy with a bottle in a brown paper bag, staggering about and yelling at seagulls. I exchanged a knowing look at a couple of younger guys who were sitting on the dock with their fishing rods. I laughed, they laughed. It was one of those moments, you know? Doesn’t matter that we’d never seen each other before. Sometimes you just know what another guy is thinking.

Later that night I decided to go back. It hadn’t been a terrific day by the pier and I thought maybe the night would be quieter. I was strollin’ along and what do you know, the drunk guy was still there. I could hear him before I even got to the dock, yelling at the fish this time. What was even crazier, the same two young guys were there! Only they weren’t fishin’ this time, they were just hangin’ out drinkin’ beer on the grass beside the water.

I looked at them and they looked at me. It was just one of those moments, you know? They got up and joined me the rest of the way down to the pier and it wasn’t long before we caught up to the drunk. Man, did he splash about! It wasn’t easy – he was pretty strong for a guy who’d been drinkin’ all day. But together, the three of us got the job done.

I tell ya, sometimes you just know what another guy is thinking.

Skeleton

Deep in the gloom
of exhausted sighs
The candlelit room
limitless but you
my focus
On a lavender bed
enswathed in webs
and dust
Seated on the edge
you breathe
and wait
You smile
your teeth the tip
the very threshold
I imagine your skull
your bones
choking beneath your ivory skin
webs and dust
and the scent of death
sweet
powdery
death.

hand

Olde Friende

There’s nothing quite worse than having an olde friende that you just…can’t…seem to reach, try as you might. I have such a friend. He was a lover, once.

Ah yes, the fun we had. Frolicking and making love where ever we pleased. In back alleys and in the beds of whores as they bled out. Those were the days.

But that was quite literally centuries ago. For a vampyre however it feels like just yesterday. I would choke a nun to have just one more night with him.  Funny, I say that just like mortals like to pretend they could eat a horse. Have you ever tried to eat a horse? Not as easy as it might seem.

But I digress.

My olde friende is out there. I can feel him in my blood. In my balls.

Come to me, my love. Let us kill again. Together.rose

Reaper

“Step back now please,” said the police officer. He shuffled forward with his palms raised, pushing the curious crowd back across the white painted line of the parking space. “There’s really nothing to see here.”

“But sir,” said one of the onlookers. “I know that girl.”

“Which one,” the cop asked quietly.

“The one on top.”

“How can you tell? She’s face-down?”

“I recognize her tattoo. I inked her myself.”

“Step under the tape please,” offered the cop, lifting the yellow plastic crime scene ribbon. “MacPherson!” called the cop over his shoulder. “Talk to this man.”

“I know her,” the bystander repeated to MacPherson across the bodies of two naked women – a blonde on top and a brunette on her back underneath.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Reaper,” said the man. “First name Grim.”

MacPherson widened his stance. “And what’s your real name?”

“That is my real name,” said Reaper.

MacPherson shook his head. “Okay fine. So how do you know her?”

“I tattooed the knife in her back.”

MacPherson looked down at the body. The hilt of a knife was, indeed, tattooed on the woman’s lower left shoulder, the point appearing to have been plunged into her body.

The coroner stepped up to give his orders.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s lift her.”

Four investigators, two at the blonde’s shoulders and two at her hips, attempted to lift her.

“She’s stuck,” said one of the investigators.

The coroner crouched and lifted the woman’s left shoulder a few inches. “What the…” whispered the coroner.

MacPherson turned back to see Reaper grinning. “It’s a damned good tattoo even if I do say so myself.”