writing

The Sixth of Five

AvocadoI thought it was my lucky day. I stood in line counting and then recounting the avocados in my basket. The label on the dark green plastic net bag said ‘5 Avocados’ but there was, without a doubt, six inside. I love vegetables. I paid for them without mentioning my good fortune to the cashier and left the store. That was a week ago. Yesterday everything started to go downhill.

It was lunchtime. The sixth and final avocado looked fine. It felt a little soft but when I cut into it

kkkkkkkkkkkk

and twisted the two halves apart it looked and smelled perfect. Green and firm. The seed wasn’t too big or too

kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

small. I think it was the spoon, when it came into kkkkkkkcontact with the seed that I first heard it. It sounded like static from a radio speaker. I half ekkkkkkxpected to see sparks, but that was silly.

My avocado tasted wonderful. I would go as far to say it may have been the best avokk kkcado I’ve ever had.

*****

The twitch started an hour after I finished eating my lunkk kkch. The statikkkkkkkkkc which was coming from the outside is now in my head. I thinkkkkkkk the avokk kk kkcado might have been bad after all. Wait, no. I thought the avokkcado might have been bad. Now I think it’s it’s was

kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

The staticcccckk kk in my head is getting worse by the minute.

Kk kk kkill them

I’m going to the store.

*********

The kkkkccreature is large and kkkccumbersome but it has arms and le kk kk kkk gs that are useful. It ckkkkccan also drive a kkkkkccc automobile.

I ckk kk kkan’t see very well. It’s likkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkke my eyes are shaded and I thinkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

kk kk seeds for eyes yes and we kk kk kkilled them all

I thinkkkk I did something terrible at the st kkore. There was blood everywhere in the vegetable aisle. I tried to warn them not to buy avo

kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk SHUT UP! I’m a fruit you idiot!

cados but who would thinkk kkk kkkk kkkkkk kkkkk

*****

“Honey? Are you home? I brought Mike over to… holy shit that’s a big vegetable.  You hungry Mike?”

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

Slip

If I can just get it straight.. he thought, slurping back the drool that had pooled again in the corner of his mouth.

The slip was fine, cut thin sliced nicely into her flesh. Her gag a prop – it made her feel better, as though she was a victim instead of a willing participant.

“Almost finished my love,” he said. Hard as a rock, he throbbed with longing. It had been at least fifty minutes since he began.

As the blade reached the point of the pentagram she let out a whine. He glanced at her.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

She nodded emphatically.

“Good girl,” he smiled.

He placed the sharp tip of the knife at the point and lifted the flesh. She whined louder and he licked his lips in anticipation.

“May I?” he asked. He wasn’t sure now. He’d never taken this final step with her. She was scarred from collarbone to feet, but never like this.

Her eyes pleaded with him but told him nothing. He wouldn’t take it off without her consent. He waited, pulsating with the beat of his heart.

Even as the tears streamed down her flushed cheeks she nodded. It wasn’t good enough. He pulled on the fabric of her gag and she closed her mouth and swallowed.

“Say it,” he whispered.

Her smile was grateful, her voice raspy with need. “Flay me.”

He replaced the gag and stood. He straddled her body and bent at the waist. He leaned over her, the light still shining directly on her skin, her blood glistening.

He placed his blade flat against her shoulder and began the slip.

Time stood still when he performed this way. Slowly at first until he found his depth, his art smelled like copper and screamed of molten pleasure both for himself and his subject. Closer and closer he came with each tip, until all five were begun. By the time he reached the centre of the star he could all but taste it. The five points lifted, curled back, he stepped away and admired his work.

He bent down to gaze into her glazed over eyes, knowing that the adrenaline did the same to his.

“Are you ready, my love?”

She smiled past her gag and nodded. He placed the blade at her cheek and she pushed against it, cutting herself a fine line. A single drop of blood hung, suspended from the bottom of the slice.

All at once he stood he lifted he slipped she screamed he roared he came she came it was done.

He loved his job.

Truth

“It’s true what they said about you, isn’t it? When you were alive I mean?

“Now that you’re gone I guess it doesn’t matter. The way you died was horrible, and I’m sorry for that. Not that I had anything to do with it! Don’t come haunting me!

“Unless you want to do it nicely of course. You can watch over me if you like.

“I heard some interesting things today, at the funeral. I’m the only one here now. Everyone’s gone home, even the funeral director. I hid under a pew so we could have a few minutes in private.

“Anyways, I heard some things about you today that I never knew. Even though we were lovers for all those years it seems like maybe I hardly knew you at all.

“I have to wonder if the guys who put your face in that giant sandwich press had known you better maybe they wouldn’t have done it.

“Or come to think of it maybe that’s why they did.

“To me you were always the badass. The one who liked to whip me good and then kiss it all better. The one who sold the most drugs.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were donating all the proceeds to feed the poor?”

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.”

Visitor

My mind is haunted with thoughts of you. If only you could see or hear me. If you could just speak…what would you tell me? What would you want to know of me? Would you be happy that I live…here? Would you want to spend time with me, if you knew me?

You’ve seen me in the crowd. I know you have. You waved, once, from afar. But you wouldn’t know me to see me now. I’ve changed a little. I’ve become… I’ve become more calm. Less likely to rip up my life and chase a dream.

Just a dream, some might say. To know you would be like remembering a long, distant past full of promises that turned to dust and ashes.

So I’ll ask you, just this once. Do you wish to see me? Please answer yes or no in the little square inside the box on the page marked ‘My Apparition’.

Beauty Chained

So sweet in white you
bent to sniff to smell the
rose so red I sent you
this morning the dew on
your lip lick it
off and smile at me

So sweet in sweat I
see you bent and writhe in
pleasure ah my treasure all
slathered in creamy paint you
drip and slip it
off and smile at me

So sweet in chains you
pull and gnash and grasp the
links you slink I scratch you
seize your ache you
squeeze and slide it
off and smile at me

So sweet in black you
stretch and sigh and drift in
silken cream and paint I
glide and ride you
slip yes take it
off and smile at me

So sweet in sleep you
breathe and moan deep in
velvet bliss you cream me
yield and
blush rush lick it
off and smile at me

chains

Canopies and Scars

It’s sunny outside but in here it’s raining. The thunder crashes against my canopy, reverberating waves of sound and slashes thick with the hate of ages and sage advocacies of children fallen on deaf ears. For I can’t save everyone. And for each there is a scar.

mannequin

Bracelet Death

There is a sweetness like honey drips
The colour of roses, pink and soft
That make me carnivorous
Through your skin so delicate
Hints the red of black cherries
The tart wisp of citrus sweat
Just below your jawline
Ahhh….slip swiftly

A breath from tongue
And my mouth waters salt scent
Like fire through an hourglass
I inhale your heat
Take me to mars, I whisper too softly
Feel you shiver from head to toe
Feel your body elongate
Mmmm….hell’s handmaid

There’s a taste to your mouth
Of sweet cherry brandy
Of darkness desire so secretly warm
From your current I sense
Electric cold minefield
Hips a magnet for fingertips
And cat scratches kitten bliss
Nnnn….luscious love

In blackness is given in grace everlasting
In hard hallowed heaven
Of satin silk static
Enclosed with your strength
I’m showered with petals of blue honeydew
I breathe in white essence
My candle of starlight
Aamm….bracelet death

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January 31, 2007
11:32 pm

LGH

The Moral of the Jester’s Clothes

The Jester’s clothes fit snugly to his body. He felt this accutely as he tried not to look at the Emperor, for if he looked too long he would surely be beheaded.

He felt the pull of his collar against his throat and the tightness of his pants against his crotch. He longed to tug at the fabric. He thought that if he could just drop the balls he was juggling he could bend down to pick them up… but that again would be a risk to his neck, or perhaps his own balls.

Backwards he walked at the head of the parade. The crowd lining the streets cheered, free to gawk.

The Jester wished he could shed his clothes, but to do so would draw the attention of the Emperor to his own state.

Then the unthinkable happened.

“But he’s not wearing anything!” yelled a snotty brat from somewhere in the crowd.

The Jester dropped his balls, one of them bouncing in the direction of the Emperor. Afraid that the mighty leader would trip over it the Jester stooped to retrieve it. As he stood up the bells on his hat came into contact with the Emperor’s belly, making him giggle. The Jester laughed, thinking that he had pleased the Emperor, but the armed guards disagreed.

The Jester was executed on the spot.

The moral of the story:

Never come to a party overdressed.