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Friday, January 11, 2013

TFW CH 26 Under A Blood Red Moon


Out In The Streets   by Downtown Fiction

Lenny Sustenuto ran off into the darkness to find his girl named Sherry.  He felt his dead arm swinging about from his shoulder.  It had been tied off for too long, after the needle had done its job.  It wasn’t his fault that he had walked-in to a body with an arm that would turn green in a day or three.

In the darkness, as his eyes grew accustomed to the faint red light from the moon overhead, the image of the scary man holding a human leg as a flaming torch kept coming back to his mind.  

His stomach gurgled from the memory of that awful sight.  How could a person do such a thing?

Lenny pushed the image from his mind and looked around to see if he could find out where in the hell he was.  Everything looked different without streetlamps and street signs.  It was all black with a weak glow of red light from over head.  There were people out, too, and everyone seemed to be keeping very quiet.

As you know, the forgotten, black heart of Fuckno was not a place for any good citizen to visit during the day.  But in the blackest night that he had ever seen, it was a place for no one at all.

He wondered how far the blackout occurred.  Perhaps the rest of the city had finally decided to give up on its dead extremity?  Like an appendage about to turn gangrene, maybe the wolf gnawed it off to escape?

Where the fuck was Sherry?  Where the fuck was he, himself?

It made no sense at all.

The scary man said that he’d had a snack from the leg.

Lenny’s stomach grumbled and his mouth salivated.

A snack.

A snack sounded actually quite good now.

Lenny shivered.  

What the fuck was happening to him?

The leg torch had smelled sort of tasty.

Lenny screamed in horror and ran faster, with his fat, sausage arm swinging about and banging him in the balls periodically. 

+   +   +   +   +   +   +

Sven walked out of the heroin hotel and turned to watch the old building wake up.  It was marvelous, the way that the tall windows on the ground floor glowed as if a New Years’ party was taking place inside.  He felt festive.

Perhaps there were other folks inside who had not succumbed to the succubus of the evil horse?  He hoped so.  He wanted some company.  They could squeal with delight at this magnificent party that started before his eyes.   He would make them squeal even more, for his own sort of delight.

Sven had truly found his element.

It was fire.

Sinister Kid    by Black Keys

The boards covering the windows blazed and fell away as they disintegrated.  He saw shadows running about in the lobby of the old hotel.  It must have been years since the place was so brightly lit up from the inside.  The heat of the flames pushed Sven back and away, into the street.

Then one poor fellow ran out the front entrance with his head on fire.  He ran down the street shouting for water, smacking at his head.

He saw someone inside the alcove banging about, trying to find the exit.  But there is no exit, there is only entrance.  The figure double over and coughed, or vomited, and then slumped to the ground and writhed about in the heat of the flames.

Sven grinned.  He could hear screams from inside.  It was like music to his ears.  It was a chorus from the mouth of a hell hole.  These too stopped in a bit.

His heart felt a twinge.  The show was over.  He looked up and watched as the second floor glowed from deep inside, and then he heard more shouts.  These ones were of surprise.  He wondered if they would run to the top floor.  He looked up there at the fire he had started with the legs of the kids all asleep in the longest night of their years.  Then he remembered that he should find the car that belonged to the keys he felt in the pocket of his velour track suit.

He looked down at the track suit he wore.  He muttered, “Arr, farr degrader.”

He took the keys out and inspected the fob to which they were attached.  There was a familiar logo on the fob.  It was a Barvarian Motor Works design, the one with the blue and white propeller blades.

Daddy bought his son a Beemer.

Sven thanked the daddy of the young man, whose body he now inhabited.  He had walked into this young person without even knowing that he could.  He simply thought that his next stop would be in the fires of Hell.

He smiled as he found the cars under the light of the fire overhead.  He should have hurried.  It was quite possible that the building could come crashing down on top of these pretty vehicles.  They were all new, and they were built to be fast.

But only one was a BMW. 

And do you know, it was painted a deep purple.

But he had no idea what the color purple meant in that ugly megalopolis.

He did not know the value of the color, and what power he held in his hands now.

He opened the car up and slid in.

Such fine craftsmanship.  He closed the door and enjoyed how the seat seemed to cradle him, to nestle him safe and sound.

The vibration of the engine made his balls hum.  It was pleasurable.

Sven did not know what lay ahead for him, but he was sure of one thing, and it was this:  he was going to have himself some fun now.

When a man does not fear dying, it makes him quite dangerous.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

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