Staring back at him was a face that resembled that of a demon. It's face was marred with scars and blood. It's teeth were sharp and covered in bloody flesh and it's eyes burned fiery and bright. But it was just a painting on the wall, Cory told himself, trying to calm down.
He went to call his father, but bit his tongue. Knowing his dad he'd probably say to just keep working and they'd paint over it later. But Cory was curious about it and wanted to investigate further.
Near the floor was a hole in the wood. It was then that Cory noticed that around the face was an outline. A door.
He hooked is finger under the wood and pulled gently. The wall opened. Cory stuck his head in and tried to see what was in the wall, but it was far too dark. He leaned back and looked at the hole in the wall. He could fit, but it'd have to wait.
Cory continued pulling down the wallpaper from the room. He finished within the hour and sat a chair in front of the painting so no one would see it if by chance they came downstairs.
Upstairs, he found his dad still painting.
"He bud, what's up?" his dad said, leaning back on his heels.
"I'm finished."
"Oh, I knew it wouldn't take too long. You're free," he said going back to painting.
"I'll be next door," Cory said, grabbing his sneakers and bounding out the front door.
He practically sprinted over to Drew and Emma's house, his two best friends who just so happened to be twins. He knocked on their front door until someone finally answered.
"Gee, Cory, where's the fire?" Mrs. Bandhawk exclaimed.
"Sorry Cybil," he said. Mrs. Bandhawk never liked being called misses, so all of her kids friends called her Cybil. "I've got to talk to Drew and Emma. Are they home?"
"Cory, calm down," she sighed. "Take a breath. Yes they're home. They're in their rooms."
"'Kay thanks," Cory said running past Cybil and up the stairs. He burst into Drew's room to find him playing video games.
"Whoa, dude, what's up?"
"You are not going to believe what I just found in my basement!" Cory exclaimed.
Emma peeked her head into the room. "Will you two keep it quiet I'm trying to read - "
"Emma!" Cory yelled. "Come! Sit!"
Emma looked quizzically at her twin.
"I don't know yet," Drew said, "so you might as well come and sit down while he tells us what the hell is going on in his basement."
"Basement?" Emma asked, looking at Cory.
"Okay," he said calming himself down, "okay."
He proceeded to tell them about redoing the basement, which they already knew about, and how he found the door in the wall. He told them about the painting on the wall last.
"What's it mean?" Drew asked.
"I'm not sure. It's just a creepy face. But it has to be significant."
"So are you telling us this so we'll help you figure out what this face and door are about?" Emma asked. She knew Cory a little too well, not that he minded that.
But his face reddened. "Well I was kind of hoping you guys would go in there with me. It wouldn't be that fun by myself."
Emma smiled. "Sounds good to me."
"I'm in," Drew said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that night, Cory sat contemplating what he and his friends would do tomorrow when they went downstairs to "paint" the basement. He had a flashlight and his digital camera, just in case, but he still wasn't quite sure what to do. It was like something was scratching at his door all night. He barely slept.
At nine thirty in the morning his alarm went off. He sat up, his mouth dry. Cory reached over to his desk, groping for the glass of water he had set there last night. He drank some of it and made a face. Stagnant water was so disgusting.
He rolled out of bed and hopped into the shower. Emma and Drew would be over at ten.
Cory turned on the water and made sure it was almost scalding hot, his muscles were stiff and aching due to the lack of sleep he'd received the night before. He jumped in and let the hot water loosen his muscles up one by one.
Finally relaxed enough to get out, Cory turned the water off, toweled off and threw basketball shorts and a t-shirt on. He checked the clock on the wall and saw that it was ten to ten. He bound down the stairs to find that they were early and already standing in the kitchen talking to his father.
"Thanks Mr. Ibble," Emma said politely taking the paint from him and turning around. "Oh hey Cor. We were just getting stuff from your dad so we'd be ready when you came downstairs."
Cory shook his head. "How are you guys always up so early?"
Drew bowed in his smart ass kind of way and said, "'Tis a gift milord."
Cory shoved him. "Keep the theatrics in the theater."
Drew was big into acting. And it came out regularly unless he didn't know you very well, then he'd keep quiet about it.
Emma laughed at the two of them. "Common you guys. Let's go downstairs and get started."
"You three have fun and if you need help don't hesitate to ask," Mr. Ibble said.
"Yeah, yeah Dad. We know."
"Cory," his father said.
But the three of them were already down the stairs. Cory immediately walked over to the recliner in front of the wall and pushed it aside. Emma squeaked and her eyes got wide.
Drew looked at it, shook his head and said, "Dude."
"Isn't it weird?"
"It's creepy," Emma whispered.
"Why are you whispering?" Drew asked.
Emma laughed. "I don't know. Open it up Cory. I wanna go in and see what's inside!"
Both boys burst out in laughter.
"Now what is so funny?" she said putting her hands on her hips. The boys just kept laughing. "Omigosh! You guys are so disgusting!"
Drew laughed, "Yeah. But you love us anyways."
"Unfortunately," she mumbled. "Now come on. Open the door."
"Alright, alright," Cory said hooking his finger underneath the wood and pulling it towards him. "Flashlight."
Emma handed him the flashlight and Cory clicked it on, waving it around the interior of the place. It was much bigger than he thought it would be. He thought it would be just a small crawl space for hiding, but it was about the size of the bathroom upstairs.
"Damn," he said under his breath. There were tapes, boxes, chests, piles of newspapers. "Guys there's got to be tons of history in this place. Grab the lantern and come in after me."
Cory heard Drew laugh and then flesh on flesh. Emma slapped him.
"Go," she said.
Drew crawled in after Cory with the lantern. It lit up the small cubicle fairly well. Emma came in after her brother.
"Holy..." she whispered. "What is all this?"
Emma ran her finger across the pages of an old newspaper.
Cory was looking at a pile of newspapers near the back of the room when he saw a stack of police reports next to them. "Hey guys look at this. Do you remember reading in our local history class about the Vickbane murders?"
"You mean Roxanne and Abigail? Yeah," Emma said looking down. "Our great uncle, Malcolm Montgomery did it."
"Or did he?" Cory said picking up the police report. "Come and look at this guys."
"What is it Cor?" Drew said.
"It's a police report about the murders. With pictures and everything."
"I'd rather not see the pictures," Drew said.
Emma pushed him aside, "Well I would."
Cory read from the police report, "'Fingerprints have been found at the crime scene of Roxanne Marie Vickbane and Abigail Francis Vickbane Montgomery's death. The fingerprints do not match up with anyone in our system. Fingers have been pointed at Abigail's new husband, but as of yet no evidence has been found to convict him. All evidence points to someone with a much greater strength than that of Montgomery's. Note: Must have been a large man, with a lot of upper body strength to get a knife that deep.' And the signature at the bottom of the report is Officer Ezra Lee."
The twins didn't say anything for a moment.
"So...Malcolm didn't do it?" Emma asked.
"I dunno," Cory said.
"Hold up a sec," Drew said. "Fingerprints? System? I didn't think they had that kind of technology back then."
"Drew..." both Cory and Emma said.
"What?"
"Your parents and mine work for the government," Cory said in a matter of fact kind of tone.
"So?"
"So, brother, you out of all people, and even me and Cory, should know better that the government keeps secrets from us," Emma said.
"Oh. Right," he said quietly.
"Wait," Cory said looking down at the pile of reports again and taking the one off top. "Look. Here's another report from four years later, in 1901. Ezra Lee wrote this one too. This one's about the Ambrose murder."
"What's all this mean?" Drew asked.
"It means that the people who were convicted of these murders were innocent," Cory said. "And there's evidence in both of these that points towards the same man doing it."
"Which means they knew who did it, but let an innocent man die for it. It means that other murders later in the town were probably done by the same person!" Emma exclaimed. "Do you guys understand what this is? People have been hiding the real police reports and replacing them with fake ones that speak of evidence, fake evidence, found at the murder scenes. These men have been going to jail for some mass murder!"
"Hey guys," Drew said calling them over to a stack in the very back corner. "These are from only a few years ago. The first murder in about a hundred years. Remember?"
"Yeah," Cory said. "Gabe's mom."
"Sheba was such a kind woman. And I can't believe that Mr. Thestroot would do that." Emma said sadly. Mr. Thestroot had been their English teacher.
Drew sighed heavily. "You don't understand. Her murderer wasn't the real one either!"
"What?"
"Think about it guys, if someone wanted to get rid of the people trying to climb the social status who would it be?" Drew said.
"I dunno," Emma said.
Cory thought about it. Their friend Jerrick Waullheart. His family was one of the more superior families of the town. "Someone who was at the top themselves. People were threatening to take them down. Gabe's family was getting up there. But it couldn't be."
Drew nodded and flipped over the report so Cory and Emma could read it.
"Bram Waullheart," the whispered words fell from both Cory and Emma's lips.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Ghost Graffiti - Chapter One - The Face of Mutiny
Cory Ibble, a tall, lanky, dark haired, sixteen year old boy, walked down the busy sidewalk of the downtown area. His blue eyes flickered from face to face as the people passed, looking for a certain face. Sure, all the people who passed were familiar and friendly and some even waved, but Cory didn't much acknowledge them. He was on a mission.
She passed by here every day and today was the day he would talk to her. He had to.
"Hey Cory," someone said grabbing his arm as they passed by. He turned around, irritated.
"Oh hey Gabe," he replied. Gabe was one of his soccer friends, but he had no time. There were things to do. "I can't talk much right now, I've got things to do."
"Oh, well I'll come with," Gabe smiled.
Cory sighed. Today was obviously not the day. "Alright. I need to go get some stuff to remove the wallpaper in our basement. My dad wants to start renovating, you know, make the house look all nice for all of the people who party with him that are so important."
"Yeah," Gabe said, "I get what you mean."
Gabe's father worked with Cory's. So they were often stuck together when either of their parents had cocktail parties.
"But why the basement?" Gabe asked.
"It's looking pretty beat up right now. Not that anybody goes down there as of this moment, but I guess that's where he'll be sending me during parties. I bug him too much when I come downstairs from my bedroom to go outside. From the basement I can just walk up the stairs and out the back door," Cory explained.
"Ah. Good reason?"
Cory chuckled, "I suppose."
They continued on talking all the way to the grocery story, about school, girls and soccer. Cory picked up the few things he needed and headed home, waving goodbye to Gabe as he turned down the street before Cory's.
"Dad, I'm home," Cory yelled as he opened the front door.
"I'm in the kitchen son," his father yelled back. "Did you get everything I asked for?"
"Yeah," he said walking into the kitchen, "are we gonna mix it up right now?"
"Yup," his father said. "Then we'll head straight downstairs and get started alright."
His father hesitated.
"What?" Cory asked.
"Well, I was hoping you could do it, so I could get started on the bathroom."
"Oh, yeah, that's fine. Just show me how," he said.
When the watery paste was finished Cory followed his father downstairs and they got started on pulling down the old, water stained brown wallpaper. It was pretty simple. Just put the lacquer on the wallpaper, let it sit for a minute or so and then use a knife to cut it off. It fell off like flakes.
"Well kid," his dad said ruffling his hair, "I'll let you get to it. I'll be in the bathroom, painting, if you need any help."
"Alright."
Cory turned the radio up as his dad walked up the stairs and got to work. It was repetitive as he painted on the paste and pulled down the wallpaper. Behind it was just wood. Near the corner in the back of the room, Cory pulled back the wall paper and saw the edge of what seemed to be some sort of painting. Curious, he hurriedly worked to get the wallpaper off. Peeling off the last bit of wallpaper on that wall, Cory choked on a scream.
She passed by here every day and today was the day he would talk to her. He had to.
"Hey Cory," someone said grabbing his arm as they passed by. He turned around, irritated.
"Oh hey Gabe," he replied. Gabe was one of his soccer friends, but he had no time. There were things to do. "I can't talk much right now, I've got things to do."
"Oh, well I'll come with," Gabe smiled.
Cory sighed. Today was obviously not the day. "Alright. I need to go get some stuff to remove the wallpaper in our basement. My dad wants to start renovating, you know, make the house look all nice for all of the people who party with him that are so important."
"Yeah," Gabe said, "I get what you mean."
Gabe's father worked with Cory's. So they were often stuck together when either of their parents had cocktail parties.
"But why the basement?" Gabe asked.
"It's looking pretty beat up right now. Not that anybody goes down there as of this moment, but I guess that's where he'll be sending me during parties. I bug him too much when I come downstairs from my bedroom to go outside. From the basement I can just walk up the stairs and out the back door," Cory explained.
"Ah. Good reason?"
Cory chuckled, "I suppose."
They continued on talking all the way to the grocery story, about school, girls and soccer. Cory picked up the few things he needed and headed home, waving goodbye to Gabe as he turned down the street before Cory's.
"Dad, I'm home," Cory yelled as he opened the front door.
"I'm in the kitchen son," his father yelled back. "Did you get everything I asked for?"
"Yeah," he said walking into the kitchen, "are we gonna mix it up right now?"
"Yup," his father said. "Then we'll head straight downstairs and get started alright."
His father hesitated.
"What?" Cory asked.
"Well, I was hoping you could do it, so I could get started on the bathroom."
"Oh, yeah, that's fine. Just show me how," he said.
When the watery paste was finished Cory followed his father downstairs and they got started on pulling down the old, water stained brown wallpaper. It was pretty simple. Just put the lacquer on the wallpaper, let it sit for a minute or so and then use a knife to cut it off. It fell off like flakes.
"Well kid," his dad said ruffling his hair, "I'll let you get to it. I'll be in the bathroom, painting, if you need any help."
"Alright."
Cory turned the radio up as his dad walked up the stairs and got to work. It was repetitive as he painted on the paste and pulled down the wallpaper. Behind it was just wood. Near the corner in the back of the room, Cory pulled back the wall paper and saw the edge of what seemed to be some sort of painting. Curious, he hurriedly worked to get the wallpaper off. Peeling off the last bit of wallpaper on that wall, Cory choked on a scream.
Monday, June 15, 2009
The First of the Season: Spring
Cara waltzed out into the early morning air. The chilled air nipped at her nose but the sun, that had been recently uncovered, warmed her face. The floral scent that she inhaled intoxicated her and she had to stop herself from swooning. It was simply delightful.
Looking around she saw the bright colors of the blooming narcissus, cherry blossom and orchid flowers. The beautiful yellows and pinks blended together to make a beautiful picture. And the lovely soft orange of her poppies. Cara leaned back against her house and admired her handy work. Spring was in the air.
The air was just warm enough to not wear a jacket over her light sweater. The sun was enough to keep her body warm. Cara walked down her road, enjoying the sights around her. As she walked the scenery changed. Green to blue to pink to yellow to red. The whole world seemed so bear in the winter, the trees naked and the world so glowingly white. Nature was coming to life, bringing color and passion with it.
Cara trudged on through the puddles on the sidewalk towards the park. There were laughs and screeches of joy emitting from inside the slides and children being pushed on the swings by their parents.
The joy of a young child, so full of life as the world was now. But they change with the seasons, growing older, growing colorless. Luckily as the seasons change, so do people. And their color returns eventually.
Cara contemplated this as she walked past the families happily playing in the park. Everyone seemed to come alive with the seasons. Thunder grumbled in the distance. Cara hurried home, she did not want to get wet. A cool wind started to blow in from the direction of the on coming storm.
When she reached her home she sat on her porch, awaiting the first rain of Spring. The smell of rain hung in the air; a damp, humid smell. It clung to her. Cara inhaled the sweet, green smell. Wet leaves and flowers. She laughed, it was such an odd way to describe the smell.
The rain came down in heavy sheets. Cara closed her eyes and lay her head back, letting the light tinkling of the rain on her roof sooth her. The sweet stench in the air that could only be described as the smell of rain was more prominent. Cara's stomach grumbled. She smiled to herself. This was Spring.
She shivered and walked inside. Another new day, over with.
Looking around she saw the bright colors of the blooming narcissus, cherry blossom and orchid flowers. The beautiful yellows and pinks blended together to make a beautiful picture. And the lovely soft orange of her poppies. Cara leaned back against her house and admired her handy work. Spring was in the air.
The air was just warm enough to not wear a jacket over her light sweater. The sun was enough to keep her body warm. Cara walked down her road, enjoying the sights around her. As she walked the scenery changed. Green to blue to pink to yellow to red. The whole world seemed so bear in the winter, the trees naked and the world so glowingly white. Nature was coming to life, bringing color and passion with it.
Cara trudged on through the puddles on the sidewalk towards the park. There were laughs and screeches of joy emitting from inside the slides and children being pushed on the swings by their parents.
The joy of a young child, so full of life as the world was now. But they change with the seasons, growing older, growing colorless. Luckily as the seasons change, so do people. And their color returns eventually.
Cara contemplated this as she walked past the families happily playing in the park. Everyone seemed to come alive with the seasons. Thunder grumbled in the distance. Cara hurried home, she did not want to get wet. A cool wind started to blow in from the direction of the on coming storm.
When she reached her home she sat on her porch, awaiting the first rain of Spring. The smell of rain hung in the air; a damp, humid smell. It clung to her. Cara inhaled the sweet, green smell. Wet leaves and flowers. She laughed, it was such an odd way to describe the smell.
The rain came down in heavy sheets. Cara closed her eyes and lay her head back, letting the light tinkling of the rain on her roof sooth her. The sweet stench in the air that could only be described as the smell of rain was more prominent. Cara's stomach grumbled. She smiled to herself. This was Spring.
She shivered and walked inside. Another new day, over with.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Colorblind ~ Bria
Darcie Fallon is the cool girl in school. She's the one that everyone wants to be. She's pretty, she's smart and to top it off, has an amazing boyfriend. Oddly, she doesn't want to be her. Even if she won't admit it.
Owen Hewett is dating the most popular girl in school, but all she wants to do is have sex. All his friends expect him to do is play football and score, in more ways than one. But all he really wants to do is focus on school and getting into one of the most prestigious medical schools.
Coyan Wolfe has been in love with the same girl since fourth grade. The girl who had first accepted him into their school. She's not available anymore and she'll never love him. He doesn't want to give up, but he feels hopeless when it comes to expressing his love to her.
Corbin Gabriel is an avid marijuana smoker. He's got issues and he knows it. He won't admit he cares about her, but he does. And when it comes to it he may just be her savior.
Sequoia Indigo is a full blood Cherokee Indian. Her mother recently died and she's having a hard time. She's afraid she won't last much longer and no one that she knows of will help her.
Eli Brandt is number one in his class. There's just one problem. He's an alcoholic. He won't admit he needs help because no one knows. Yeah, right, no one knows.
Bria Tacey is there to watch them all, to see them for who they really are. She's a bystander, an observer. She befriends them all, but doesn't stick around long enough for them to really understand her. She doesn't see the world in black and white like the rest of them. She see's their true colors and she uncovers their secrets one by one.
Chapter One - Bria
What adults fail to tell you as a young child is that when you are thrown into the harsh world of that place they call school, is that you would be better off jumping out into traffic. You're thrown into a world you know nothing about and thus beaten down, devoured by those higher up than you. You're the bottom of the food chain. You're so innocent and naive and are forced to grow up so quickly. You have to, if you want to survive. High school, or as I prefer to call it, hell, is one of the most hectic places of all. You've got those who chose to go with the flow and grow up and those who decided they weren't finished being douche bags and continue being immature. The ironic thing is the people who don't grow up tend to be those who are higher up in the food chain and those who have grown up are those being devoured. And the worst part of it is, is that no one is who they seem to be. The book worms are those sweet, quiet, reserved people right? Wrong. You'd think that, but you're very wrong. The smart kids never go out and get smashed. They know better than that right? Wrong. The good little teacher's pets are the ones to get laid first. That sweet Christian kid in the back of class who never talks, he's got an STD and his girlfriend is pregnant. That girl with the bright smile on her face all day long, she was just diagnosed with a severe case of depression. That pretty, well behaved girl in your English class does more weed than the 'pot head' I sit next to in math class.
Yet no one seems to see all of that. Everyone sees the world in black and white. They see the world how everyone wants them to see it, without any color. But me, I see that color. I know what goes on. I see it. I hear it. I taste it. I smell it. I feel it. I experience it. I see that color because I am it. Everybody else is just colorblind.
Owen Hewett is dating the most popular girl in school, but all she wants to do is have sex. All his friends expect him to do is play football and score, in more ways than one. But all he really wants to do is focus on school and getting into one of the most prestigious medical schools.
Coyan Wolfe has been in love with the same girl since fourth grade. The girl who had first accepted him into their school. She's not available anymore and she'll never love him. He doesn't want to give up, but he feels hopeless when it comes to expressing his love to her.
Corbin Gabriel is an avid marijuana smoker. He's got issues and he knows it. He won't admit he cares about her, but he does. And when it comes to it he may just be her savior.
Sequoia Indigo is a full blood Cherokee Indian. Her mother recently died and she's having a hard time. She's afraid she won't last much longer and no one that she knows of will help her.
Eli Brandt is number one in his class. There's just one problem. He's an alcoholic. He won't admit he needs help because no one knows. Yeah, right, no one knows.
Bria Tacey is there to watch them all, to see them for who they really are. She's a bystander, an observer. She befriends them all, but doesn't stick around long enough for them to really understand her. She doesn't see the world in black and white like the rest of them. She see's their true colors and she uncovers their secrets one by one.
Chapter One - Bria
What adults fail to tell you as a young child is that when you are thrown into the harsh world of that place they call school, is that you would be better off jumping out into traffic. You're thrown into a world you know nothing about and thus beaten down, devoured by those higher up than you. You're the bottom of the food chain. You're so innocent and naive and are forced to grow up so quickly. You have to, if you want to survive. High school, or as I prefer to call it, hell, is one of the most hectic places of all. You've got those who chose to go with the flow and grow up and those who decided they weren't finished being douche bags and continue being immature. The ironic thing is the people who don't grow up tend to be those who are higher up in the food chain and those who have grown up are those being devoured. And the worst part of it is, is that no one is who they seem to be. The book worms are those sweet, quiet, reserved people right? Wrong. You'd think that, but you're very wrong. The smart kids never go out and get smashed. They know better than that right? Wrong. The good little teacher's pets are the ones to get laid first. That sweet Christian kid in the back of class who never talks, he's got an STD and his girlfriend is pregnant. That girl with the bright smile on her face all day long, she was just diagnosed with a severe case of depression. That pretty, well behaved girl in your English class does more weed than the 'pot head' I sit next to in math class.
Yet no one seems to see all of that. Everyone sees the world in black and white. They see the world how everyone wants them to see it, without any color. But me, I see that color. I know what goes on. I see it. I hear it. I taste it. I smell it. I feel it. I experience it. I see that color because I am it. Everybody else is just colorblind.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Sad Milk and Honey - Chapter One - Moonlight Glow
Her skin smelled faintly of the man that she loved as she slipped into her dress and braided her hair. He'd gotten to her. She'd let him get to her again.
He knew just what to say. He knew just where to touch her. In all her life, no man...no lover had ever made her feel this way. In the heat of the moment he'd woo her and make her swoon. Then he'd sweep her off her feet.
Every time.
Naturally, he was gone already. She knew what she was getting into when it started. He didn't want a real relationship. He just wanted her body, but he ended up receiving her love as well. She was helpless when it came to her feelings and he had her totally surrendered to him. It was pathetic in her eyes. She'd never been so torn between loving something and hating something in all her life.
Izzy walked over to the table where her purse and keys were sitting. She looked at the clock. Ten in the morning. Her eyes drifted to her keys. Underneath her keys was a note in Conan's neat handwriting.
"I miss you already my dear. Meet me at Bo's tonight at 8."
She sighed. It would probably just be another night of drinking her ass off and then meaningless sex...on his part. It always meant something to her and she knew that would end up getting her hurt. The man never cared. But she always did.
Izzy grabbed her things off the table and made her way outside to her car. It was Saturday and she didn't have to work until one. Her chem class wasn't until seven. But they were just finishing up a lab today, so unfortunately, she wouldn't have an excuse for Bo's tonight. She'd have to go.
She sighed as she started her car and drove away from the extravagant house that she'd spent so much time in lately. Her mind drifted as she drove to her apartment, a small complex about two miles outside of town.
As Izzy drove up to her quaint little home, she smiled. It was such a beautiful little spot. Willow trees surrounded the place and the little pond was lovely to swim in during the summer. It wasn't like Conan's place, but it was home.
Before getting out of the car she sent him a quick text message.
"Got your note. See you tonight."
She figured she'd keep it short. Nothing special.
Just as she stuck the key into the lock to open the door to her apartment her phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out. It was from her friend Fallon.
"Where were you last night?"
Shit, Izzy thought to herself. She had been so caught up in Conan last night she forgot that she was supposed to stop by Fallon's party. She was gonna be pissed at Izzy, but she'd get over it.
Her phone whizzed again and this time it was a message back from Conan.
"My Place after?"
Izzy sighed again for what felt like the thousandth since she'd woken up. It was going to be a long night.
~~~~~
Work had passed slowly. It was agonizing. Izzy wanted to see him so much, but was starting to fear that she had become too attached to Conan. This was getting unhealthy for her.
Chem was the same as work had been. It drug on and on. By the time it was out Izzy was bouncing from all the energy she had pent up. She raced to her car to make it to Bo's by eight. Luckily traffic was clear and she drove like a maniac.
She pulled up to the bar at exactly eight. Conan's red Porsche was parked three spaces down from hers. She recognized a few cars as well, but couldn't put owners to the cars.
Izzy opened the door to a dark, smoke filled room. It smelled of booze and wings and a strange buzz clung to the cool, damp air as Izzy's body cut through the thick atmosphere. She shivered, the hours to come leaving an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Conan was sitting, chatting with the owner, Bo, and Bo's wife, Mila. He was at their usual table in the back corner of the bar.
Conan's eyes lifted up from the table to meet Izzy's as she pulled up a chair. He smiled sweetly, took Izzy's hand in his and continued talking to Bo and Mila.
"So you're investing in the company?" he said to Bo.
"You're company is one of the most prosperous around. I couldn't think of a more sufficient way to spend a couple thousand dollars. I'm putting some of it away, but it wouldn't hurt to try to get more would it?" Bo said.
"I suppose it wouldn't," Conan replied. "The stocks in the general area of the industry tend to do well. Ask Izzy. She's invested some money in my company. Haven't you babe?"
"Huh?" Izzy said looking up.
Conan chuckled. "Never you mind. But I would seriously consider it if I were you Bo. Not many people think it is worth the risk. But I think it is."
"Thanks Conan. I'll see you two later," he said nodding his head at the two of them.
"See you later," Mila's light voice chirped through the thick fog between everyone. Maybe it was just Izzy's imagination. Or maybe it was her fuzzy thoughts blurring her vision and causing her breath to shorten.
Conan leaned over and kissed Izzy on the forehead. It surprised Izzy, for Conan never expressed so much affection for her in public. Even holding hands was foreign to her in such a crowded place. It wasn't good for his 'image' to be seen with just one woman. At least that's what Izzy assumed.
"Want a drink Isadora?"
"Sure," she replied quietly.
"The usual," Conan said to the waitress with a wink.
The waitress returned with a Bud Light for Conan and whiskey for Izzy. She downed the drink within five minutes. If she was going to be around him with the stress she was feeling right now, she needed to calm down. The whiskey burned her throat and spread warmth throughout her body, relaxing each muscle, one at a time.
One by one, a few of their friends showed up. Fallon had even made her way to the bar.
"Hey Is, let's go to the club down the street. I hear the music's awesome," Fallon suggested after both of them had had a few drinks.
"I dunno if she should be going anywhere Fallon," Conan said. "She's had quite a few drinks."
"Ah, she'll be fine Debbie Downer. She holds her liquor well. I'm going now. Meet me there in a half hour, 'kay?"
"Mmmmk," Izzy mumbled.
Fallon left with Torben and a few other friends of theirs.
"Izzy," Conan said after everyone had went their own ways, "I don't think you should go. You should let me drive you home."
"I'm fine," she all but slurred. "I'll meet you at your house later okay?"
He sighed. "Fine."
She stood up and made her way through the crowded bar to the door. All thoughts of despair had abandoned her mind after the first few drinks. She opened the door to hot and muggy air. A sheen of sweat broke out over her skin as the dark invaded her mind again. Her stomach dropped. The alcohol was messing with her mind. She just kept telling herself that and kept walking.
Soon Izzy heard footsteps behind her. She turned around and found no one there.
"Conan?"
No answer. So she kept on walking. The moon was the only light on the road. Many of the street lights were out and those that weren't were dim. It was eerie, the feeling the dark gave her. The footsteps started up again. And this time they seemed closer.
Izzy whipped around. "Who's there?!"
A hand came out of no where from behind her and covered her mouth. A scream erupted from the depths of her throat but it didn't escape her mouth. A warm breath was on her shoulder.
"Be quiet and I won't hurt you," a deep voice said in her ear.
She whimpered.
"That a girl," he said running his fingers softly against her cheek.
The man pulled Izzy over to a dark alley. The alcohol was still predominant in her system, so she gave up willingly. There was no way she would be able to fight her way out of it and if she screamed he'd probably hurt her.
The man pushed Izzy up against the cold brick wall and started to kiss her throat and chest. She tried to push him away but he back handed her across the face.
"Don't do that. You don't fight and I won't hurt you," he said sternly. She whimpered in agreement.
But the man had lied. His hands were rough and his touch was not sweet like Conan's. He'd all but stripped her down to nothing and she was sure there would be bruises on her arms and legs in the morning...not to mention a pretty good one on her cheek. It hurt like hell when he finally decided she was ready. He was nothing like Conan. He wasn't a sweet lover, he was a sick man.
She cried out as he repeatedly struck her. "Stop it!" she screamed. "Just stop it!"
Her lucidity was coming back to her. The sex had sobered her up and she was trying to contain herself so she didn't start shivering and bawling her eyes out.
A mean glint passed through the man's eyes. "Fine," he said and he threw her to the ground. Izzy didn't get up. She curled into a ball and started sobbing. The wind blew around her but it didn't seem to touch her.
The pain hit her in her abdomen first then spread throughout her body. Shock was overtaking her body. All she could do was shiver and stare at the sullenly pale white moon in the starless sky. Spots started to cross her vision and the world went black.
He knew just what to say. He knew just where to touch her. In all her life, no man...no lover had ever made her feel this way. In the heat of the moment he'd woo her and make her swoon. Then he'd sweep her off her feet.
Every time.
Naturally, he was gone already. She knew what she was getting into when it started. He didn't want a real relationship. He just wanted her body, but he ended up receiving her love as well. She was helpless when it came to her feelings and he had her totally surrendered to him. It was pathetic in her eyes. She'd never been so torn between loving something and hating something in all her life.
Izzy walked over to the table where her purse and keys were sitting. She looked at the clock. Ten in the morning. Her eyes drifted to her keys. Underneath her keys was a note in Conan's neat handwriting.
"I miss you already my dear. Meet me at Bo's tonight at 8."
She sighed. It would probably just be another night of drinking her ass off and then meaningless sex...on his part. It always meant something to her and she knew that would end up getting her hurt. The man never cared. But she always did.
Izzy grabbed her things off the table and made her way outside to her car. It was Saturday and she didn't have to work until one. Her chem class wasn't until seven. But they were just finishing up a lab today, so unfortunately, she wouldn't have an excuse for Bo's tonight. She'd have to go.
She sighed as she started her car and drove away from the extravagant house that she'd spent so much time in lately. Her mind drifted as she drove to her apartment, a small complex about two miles outside of town.
As Izzy drove up to her quaint little home, she smiled. It was such a beautiful little spot. Willow trees surrounded the place and the little pond was lovely to swim in during the summer. It wasn't like Conan's place, but it was home.
Before getting out of the car she sent him a quick text message.
"Got your note. See you tonight."
She figured she'd keep it short. Nothing special.
Just as she stuck the key into the lock to open the door to her apartment her phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out. It was from her friend Fallon.
"Where were you last night?"
Shit, Izzy thought to herself. She had been so caught up in Conan last night she forgot that she was supposed to stop by Fallon's party. She was gonna be pissed at Izzy, but she'd get over it.
Her phone whizzed again and this time it was a message back from Conan.
"My Place after?"
Izzy sighed again for what felt like the thousandth since she'd woken up. It was going to be a long night.
~~~~~
Work had passed slowly. It was agonizing. Izzy wanted to see him so much, but was starting to fear that she had become too attached to Conan. This was getting unhealthy for her.
Chem was the same as work had been. It drug on and on. By the time it was out Izzy was bouncing from all the energy she had pent up. She raced to her car to make it to Bo's by eight. Luckily traffic was clear and she drove like a maniac.
She pulled up to the bar at exactly eight. Conan's red Porsche was parked three spaces down from hers. She recognized a few cars as well, but couldn't put owners to the cars.
Izzy opened the door to a dark, smoke filled room. It smelled of booze and wings and a strange buzz clung to the cool, damp air as Izzy's body cut through the thick atmosphere. She shivered, the hours to come leaving an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Conan was sitting, chatting with the owner, Bo, and Bo's wife, Mila. He was at their usual table in the back corner of the bar.
Conan's eyes lifted up from the table to meet Izzy's as she pulled up a chair. He smiled sweetly, took Izzy's hand in his and continued talking to Bo and Mila.
"So you're investing in the company?" he said to Bo.
"You're company is one of the most prosperous around. I couldn't think of a more sufficient way to spend a couple thousand dollars. I'm putting some of it away, but it wouldn't hurt to try to get more would it?" Bo said.
"I suppose it wouldn't," Conan replied. "The stocks in the general area of the industry tend to do well. Ask Izzy. She's invested some money in my company. Haven't you babe?"
"Huh?" Izzy said looking up.
Conan chuckled. "Never you mind. But I would seriously consider it if I were you Bo. Not many people think it is worth the risk. But I think it is."
"Thanks Conan. I'll see you two later," he said nodding his head at the two of them.
"See you later," Mila's light voice chirped through the thick fog between everyone. Maybe it was just Izzy's imagination. Or maybe it was her fuzzy thoughts blurring her vision and causing her breath to shorten.
Conan leaned over and kissed Izzy on the forehead. It surprised Izzy, for Conan never expressed so much affection for her in public. Even holding hands was foreign to her in such a crowded place. It wasn't good for his 'image' to be seen with just one woman. At least that's what Izzy assumed.
"Want a drink Isadora?"
"Sure," she replied quietly.
"The usual," Conan said to the waitress with a wink.
The waitress returned with a Bud Light for Conan and whiskey for Izzy. She downed the drink within five minutes. If she was going to be around him with the stress she was feeling right now, she needed to calm down. The whiskey burned her throat and spread warmth throughout her body, relaxing each muscle, one at a time.
One by one, a few of their friends showed up. Fallon had even made her way to the bar.
"Hey Is, let's go to the club down the street. I hear the music's awesome," Fallon suggested after both of them had had a few drinks.
"I dunno if she should be going anywhere Fallon," Conan said. "She's had quite a few drinks."
"Ah, she'll be fine Debbie Downer. She holds her liquor well. I'm going now. Meet me there in a half hour, 'kay?"
"Mmmmk," Izzy mumbled.
Fallon left with Torben and a few other friends of theirs.
"Izzy," Conan said after everyone had went their own ways, "I don't think you should go. You should let me drive you home."
"I'm fine," she all but slurred. "I'll meet you at your house later okay?"
He sighed. "Fine."
She stood up and made her way through the crowded bar to the door. All thoughts of despair had abandoned her mind after the first few drinks. She opened the door to hot and muggy air. A sheen of sweat broke out over her skin as the dark invaded her mind again. Her stomach dropped. The alcohol was messing with her mind. She just kept telling herself that and kept walking.
Soon Izzy heard footsteps behind her. She turned around and found no one there.
"Conan?"
No answer. So she kept on walking. The moon was the only light on the road. Many of the street lights were out and those that weren't were dim. It was eerie, the feeling the dark gave her. The footsteps started up again. And this time they seemed closer.
Izzy whipped around. "Who's there?!"
A hand came out of no where from behind her and covered her mouth. A scream erupted from the depths of her throat but it didn't escape her mouth. A warm breath was on her shoulder.
"Be quiet and I won't hurt you," a deep voice said in her ear.
She whimpered.
"That a girl," he said running his fingers softly against her cheek.
The man pulled Izzy over to a dark alley. The alcohol was still predominant in her system, so she gave up willingly. There was no way she would be able to fight her way out of it and if she screamed he'd probably hurt her.
The man pushed Izzy up against the cold brick wall and started to kiss her throat and chest. She tried to push him away but he back handed her across the face.
"Don't do that. You don't fight and I won't hurt you," he said sternly. She whimpered in agreement.
But the man had lied. His hands were rough and his touch was not sweet like Conan's. He'd all but stripped her down to nothing and she was sure there would be bruises on her arms and legs in the morning...not to mention a pretty good one on her cheek. It hurt like hell when he finally decided she was ready. He was nothing like Conan. He wasn't a sweet lover, he was a sick man.
She cried out as he repeatedly struck her. "Stop it!" she screamed. "Just stop it!"
Her lucidity was coming back to her. The sex had sobered her up and she was trying to contain herself so she didn't start shivering and bawling her eyes out.
A mean glint passed through the man's eyes. "Fine," he said and he threw her to the ground. Izzy didn't get up. She curled into a ball and started sobbing. The wind blew around her but it didn't seem to touch her.
The pain hit her in her abdomen first then spread throughout her body. Shock was overtaking her body. All she could do was shiver and stare at the sullenly pale white moon in the starless sky. Spots started to cross her vision and the world went black.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sad Milk And Honey - Preface
It was always the morning after that got her. The constant throbbing in the back of her eyes that reminded her she needed coffee to get read of this damn hangover. The hollow ache in the pit of her stomach as she realized what a stupid dimwit she was...again. It had become routine for her.
But this morning was different. It wasn't going to happen anymore. She promised herself that. She wouldn't go through hurting herself over and over again for some stupid guy.
But one more drink wouldn't hurt...now would it dear?
But this morning was different. It wasn't going to happen anymore. She promised herself that. She wouldn't go through hurting herself over and over again for some stupid guy.
But one more drink wouldn't hurt...now would it dear?
Machine - Chapter One - Images of Broken Glass
I spend most of my days like any machine: alone, cold and in the dark. Few people know my real name, Isaiah Midnight, and few people outside my family have ever really seen me outside the confinements of my house. Most people don't even know I exist.
I rarely leave, due to a rare genetic mutation I was born with. Or so that's what my parents have come to make me believe. Because of the lack of sunlight my whole life my skin is nearly translucent and my dark brown hair is almost black. I look inhuman. My eyes especially. Their blue color is such a bright, startling blue they're almost electric.
Twenty years ago in 2100 I had a horrible accident and suffered amnesia. That's what they told me at least. I don't remember a thing from before the accident anyway, if there even was one. I haven't aged since and my parents told me it was because of a genetic mutation. But That's not enough for me. I don't believe it, but I have no better answer. What I do know is that my life is full of lies. Truth lurks somewhere in the dark corners of my mind, I know this. There are answers buried deep within my thoughts.
They've just yet to be found.
"Machine," a voice called, pulling me from my thoughts. I hate that people called me that, but I was so accustomed to hearing it and I'm so machine like that it doesn't matter anymore. I just let them call me that.
I turned to face the woman I called my mother. "Yes?"
"Come on. Grab your cloak and get read. We're going shopping."
It's never a rare sight to see people walking around in dark gray cloaks. Not because of them having a condition like mine, (because for all I know I'm thin only one in the world who has it) but because there are the Elders. They run the town and for some odd reason they hide their faces. My mother came up with the idea of wearing a cloak. It at least got me outside without being bothered (you just don't bother Elders). And it got me closer to people outside of my family.
My lack of communication with the outside world had caused a great fascination to erupt within me many years ago. I just couldn't help myself but be so curious about these people. I craved the time when my mother would take me outside of the dark world I lived in and gave me the chance to observe people closer than from my bedroom window.
Although I am human, I am not fully human. I just know it. Knowing that, for some perverse reason, makes me love watching the 'purebred' humans. And I do not use that term lightly. The Elders and government experiment with humans. I believe I may be one of those experiments, but there's no telling.
"Hey." My mother again. I looked out the window. We were at the market. I spend a lot of time thinking and reading. I often get lost in it. What else are you supposed to do when you're completely alone all the time with no one to talk to?
Walking through the market I stared wonderingly at all the people around me. This was so uncommon for me that I took in everything on the rare occasion I was let out.
A frail figure about a foot shorter than me bumped into my burly chest. She staggered and I put my hands on her shoulders to steady her. Her friend, who had been talking animatedly, abruptly stopped, her eyes wide. She probably thought I was an Elder with my height of six foot, two inches and black cloak. Elders never came in contact with commoners, at all costs.
"Sorry sir," the girl stammered. "She wasn't watching where she was going. Won't happen again. We promise."
"S'alright miss," my voice rumbled out. It was so alien to me. I don't talk much. "I'm not an Elder. Just someone a little sensitive to sun." I lifted my hood a little and winked at the one who had ran into me. She gasped and stared at me.
The girl sighed. "Thank God. I swear if you do that again and it' s not him," she said pointing to me, "I swear I will kill you Kate Niks. I swear it." She pulled her friend away.
Kate Niks. What a lovely girl.
"I hope we meet again, Kate Niks," I whispered.
I rarely leave, due to a rare genetic mutation I was born with. Or so that's what my parents have come to make me believe. Because of the lack of sunlight my whole life my skin is nearly translucent and my dark brown hair is almost black. I look inhuman. My eyes especially. Their blue color is such a bright, startling blue they're almost electric.
Twenty years ago in 2100 I had a horrible accident and suffered amnesia. That's what they told me at least. I don't remember a thing from before the accident anyway, if there even was one. I haven't aged since and my parents told me it was because of a genetic mutation. But That's not enough for me. I don't believe it, but I have no better answer. What I do know is that my life is full of lies. Truth lurks somewhere in the dark corners of my mind, I know this. There are answers buried deep within my thoughts.
They've just yet to be found.
"Machine," a voice called, pulling me from my thoughts. I hate that people called me that, but I was so accustomed to hearing it and I'm so machine like that it doesn't matter anymore. I just let them call me that.
I turned to face the woman I called my mother. "Yes?"
"Come on. Grab your cloak and get read. We're going shopping."
It's never a rare sight to see people walking around in dark gray cloaks. Not because of them having a condition like mine, (because for all I know I'm thin only one in the world who has it) but because there are the Elders. They run the town and for some odd reason they hide their faces. My mother came up with the idea of wearing a cloak. It at least got me outside without being bothered (you just don't bother Elders). And it got me closer to people outside of my family.
My lack of communication with the outside world had caused a great fascination to erupt within me many years ago. I just couldn't help myself but be so curious about these people. I craved the time when my mother would take me outside of the dark world I lived in and gave me the chance to observe people closer than from my bedroom window.
Although I am human, I am not fully human. I just know it. Knowing that, for some perverse reason, makes me love watching the 'purebred' humans. And I do not use that term lightly. The Elders and government experiment with humans. I believe I may be one of those experiments, but there's no telling.
"Hey." My mother again. I looked out the window. We were at the market. I spend a lot of time thinking and reading. I often get lost in it. What else are you supposed to do when you're completely alone all the time with no one to talk to?
Walking through the market I stared wonderingly at all the people around me. This was so uncommon for me that I took in everything on the rare occasion I was let out.
A frail figure about a foot shorter than me bumped into my burly chest. She staggered and I put my hands on her shoulders to steady her. Her friend, who had been talking animatedly, abruptly stopped, her eyes wide. She probably thought I was an Elder with my height of six foot, two inches and black cloak. Elders never came in contact with commoners, at all costs.
"Sorry sir," the girl stammered. "She wasn't watching where she was going. Won't happen again. We promise."
"S'alright miss," my voice rumbled out. It was so alien to me. I don't talk much. "I'm not an Elder. Just someone a little sensitive to sun." I lifted my hood a little and winked at the one who had ran into me. She gasped and stared at me.
The girl sighed. "Thank God. I swear if you do that again and it' s not him," she said pointing to me, "I swear I will kill you Kate Niks. I swear it." She pulled her friend away.
Kate Niks. What a lovely girl.
"I hope we meet again, Kate Niks," I whispered.
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