Opportunities appear even when a man may not know the
rules, but he can navigate the course.
–Minister Glinty McFlintock, ca. 1880’s.
SVEN
OPENS
HIS
EYES
When you awaken with a new set of eyes, the worst thing to
do is to scream in horror. Do Not
Panic. Instead, the best thing to do is
to assess your condition, your surroundings, what weapons are available, and
also where the nearest exit is and how to get to it.
After that, there other things you need to do.
Sven whispered, “Aargh.
Farr degrader.” He searched the
garments lying about that might be useful and he stuffed them into a
backpack near the lit candle.
He found wallets, knives, old school metal lighters with
some sort of insignia on them, a bottle of lighter fluid for them, and even a
small pistol. He snatched purses and watches and other jewelry from the hands and fingers of his
unconscious room-mates.
He had no idea who they were and yet it was a freeing
sensation that flowed over his skin. He
was awake, while they were not.
The urge to use a knife on all of them, on some of them, on
even one of them was quite powerful, but he realized that he would need to
leave soon, to escape. But you should know that there is no escape. There is only
forward motion, and such a thing can dig one deeper into a hole.
He knew that he would not get far once these young folks
awakened. He would have to keep them
where they were, for as long as possible.
And that, my friend, meant they would have to remain at
that Heroin Hotel.
Forever.
Indeed, the Walkin set about cooking up a new batch in the
spoon, using the tiny bags of yellow powder he found near the candle. He clicked the tiny butane torch and filled
the needle to the brim.
Then he went to each sleeping body and inserted the tip
directly into their fresh tracks. He
filled them with their pleasure and their destiny.
When he was done he shrank back into the shadows and
watched.
In a few minutes, they began to awaken, one by one, starting
with the first one he had injected with his own sort of love.
Their eyes fluttered, there were moans joy and even a small
whimper of happiness from one in particular. She was quite
pretty with her face all dolled up in the style of the time back then.
And then each of them began to tremble, and wriggle,
and then convulse.
The contents of their stomachs dripped out of their mouths,
except for the pretty one: She leaned to
the right and coughed and her eyes fluttered open in a panicked state, and she
could not catch her breath.
She saw him.
She saw Sven, but it was not Sven, to her.
It was her friend.
She reached to him, trying to call for his assistance, but he shrank
away, back into the shadows.
She reached as she coughed, but then she fell back. She, too shrank back into the shadow.
She slunk into the spinning world of the
over-inebriated, the overcome, the over-dosed, and her lungs filled with her
own bile as she choked and inhaled, trying to catch her breath. Her heart
tried to speed up and slow down at the same time.
She dissipated.
These young folks would return as new Walkins, each with
the need to torture others. They would
need to inhabit an unconscious person.
And, you know, there were many to be found on the south side
of Fuckno.
Sven’s teeth gleamed from the shadows. The candle flickered in his eyes. He had never felt such joy from such a
little amount of work. He savored the moment, but he didn’t know that the last
view of him was seen by that pretty soul who could come back to fight him,
joining another that we know as Sherry.
He simply knew that he needed to cover his tracks.
And that was why he went back to them dying, choking drug
addicts and squirted the lighter fluid all over the table near the candle. He set the plastic bottle on its side so it
appeared to have been knocked over.
He pulled one young man’s leg over and placed his tennis shoe on top of the pool of spilled fluid and got the pant leg all wet in
the puddle.
He set the candle down on its side and the puddle ignited.
Next thing you know, the leg was on fire, and so was
the table. He used the fiery leg to kick
the tiny table around and then over, and the puddle spread under the legs of them other young
folks.
He stepped back again.
He admired his work.
He hefted up the backpack into his shoulder and smiled. It began to smell like burning hair and barbecue in the small room.
He knew that he could drive off in a car that
belonged to one of these kids, but for the moment, he enjoyed himself.
He was glad to be alive.
Again.
Swim In The Ocean by
The Call
I had no clue.
But that was just about right. I never knew the rules, but boy could I
navigate. Well, at least that was what
it looks like now in hindsight.
Other people call it blind luck.
And some call it destiny, which can’t be denied. You might be dragged to your destination
screaming, blubbering and scrambling to get away.
And then once you arrive, you stand up, you wipe your tears from your muddy face and you say, “I meant to come here all along.”
Yeah, right.
I saw those boys lying on the ground after the cold air
brought them down. The screaming girl
evaporated into a cloud of snow and the only thing awake back there behind the
mansion was a small blue ghost girl crouched over Tellesco’s head and the red
moon above.
Big Bryan lied
off down in the midst of them purple robes, and they all looked to be dead.
The rest of them blue ghosts were gone, baby, gone.
I fell back into the shadows. I was going, baby, going.
I stepped back into someone standing behind me.
My skin crawled.
I was about to die, I was sure of it. I held no weapons and I had dropped the smashed bag of talismans inside the mansion.
I stepped back into someone standing behind me.
My skin crawled.
I was about to die, I was sure of it. I held no weapons and I had dropped the smashed bag of talismans inside the mansion.
And then I smelled her perfume.
Perfume from a dead girl under the ocean five thousand miles
away. Her body was still strapped into
the aircraft seat, and she was watching an in-flight movie the likes of which
you nor I would ever see, but it had no ending for her.
Lorelei whispered in my ear.
She said, “Hold steady, Weeeeee-ill.
We need to get those guys awakened.
That Brian lying over there is OK.
He will take us from here. You
can be safe and sound.”
I whispered back, without turning around. I said, “Then what happens?”
She said, “That is something you don’t need to think about
now. At this moment, we just need to focus on the work at hand. We have to go
and collect some bones.”
Hah?
What the hell was she talking about?
Collect bones?
From where?
Of course, you know that she meant we would have to go back
inside and down under the mansion and do some digging.
Holy shit.
Indeed.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
Dannemora Blues
by The Pack A.D.
.
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