Running Towards The Fire

Pete walks the school yard feling inprisoned in his daily guard.  However he is not disheartened -  sure he may be trapped at school, but he is not trapped at home where anything can happen any moment of the day.  Pete rubs his hands against his pants as he glares at the school emblem in large art form by the front gate - he scoffs.

"I should tissue paper that statue!"  he growls before he looks away.

Pete spies his brother Gary by the toilets taking a smoke, and he licks his lips  - how he could use for some poison!

"I need a drink!"  he gasps before he looks away.

Pete fast realizes that his hands are cold and he shoves them inside of his pockets before anyone realizes they are turninng blue despite the 22'c heat blazing down on them.

"I'm cold!"  mutters Pete as he feels his brow sweat. 

Pete moves to wipe the sweat away and cringes as his fingers cool his skin.  Pete begins to cry under his eyes as he links his hand to a dead persons hand.  In the back of his mind he remembers that he may have died, however he couldn't be sure since he had been young when he had thought that he might have had something bad done to him.

"I think I was electrocuted when having a bath;"  he mutters in half-joke, but even then as he clicks his tongue he notices it is almost brittle underneath the slimy wetness that glazes his tongue.  "But maybe I am just cold;" he tells himself before he shrugs and moves on.

The eye of a teacher follows Pete and he feels his spine stiffen as a result.  He looks to the right and sees the teacher scowl, and he wishes to throw a stone at her head, but instead he waves.  The teacher moves on and Pete is left to relax his tension down.

"I thought I was in trouble..." he mutters as he rolls his eyes.  "I had better keep cool:"  he adds before he shrinks to the shadow of a nearby tree to sit.

 

Pete walks with Gary back home -  it is ten pm and both are sick of window shopping.  In the dark they make their way down the street and to the empty street in which their house sits.  The walk feels cold on their shoulders, and at each step their mouths which to talk about going to the movies while their feet ache to go to bed.

"I need to shower;"  mutters Gary before he walks ahead of Pete to enter the house.

All is quiet inside the house and Gary happly treks towards his bedroom, Pete follows knowing that his bed is a patch in the corner of Gary's room. 

"You feet stink!"  tells Gary as he pinches his nose as he looks to Pete take off his shoes.

"So do yours!"  tells Pete before he rolls a blanket over himself to lay down.

Pete closes his eyes as Gary moves to the shower to wash himself.  When alone a shadow creeps into the bedroom and makes Pete's blood run cold.  it is his mother Evon who snarls like a Nazi troll as she stand there lingering with a knife inside of her hand.  Pete keeps his eyes closed as he tries to forget about Evon, but her footsteps approach and he grows ever more cold over what he should do.

"i should stab her with that stupid knife!"  mutters Pete as he clenches his jaw.

However he does nothing as Evon crawls to bend over him, and soon she grabs her kife and stabs Pete in the ribs.  Pete wishes to object but with pain searing through his veins he grows on a spiral ride which dances through his brain until the world disappears.  For a moment he hops onto a horse and allows it to carry him around and around on a merry-go-ride, and when it stops he is laid on the basement floor.

"What is going on?"  asks Pete before he slowly moves to stand.

Pete feels cold and sore, and he staggers as he walks while he fights feint inside of his mind.  Pete walks up the stairs with few stumbles but relies heavily on the rail to climb up the stairs.  Within moments Pete reaches the door and swings it open, and then he moves to enter the kitchen where Evon and her gambling buddies sit to play cards.  Pete cries out to Evon.

"Why did you put me in the basement!"  he shouts before he loses his breath.

Evon laughs at Pete as he struggles with his balace -  she knows he hasn't figured out that he has blood on his t-shirt. and as his face grows pale she waves before he faints.

 

Two days pass and Pete recovers in hospital fast before he is allowed to go home.  When home Evon pinches one of his wounds hard.

"This was a love-song;"  she mutters before she pushes him towards the bedroom door.

Pete stumbles and swears under his breath as he steps inside his bedroom.  When inside however he breaks down and sobs -  his mother is so mean to him, why can't she ever leave him alone?

 

At school Pete and Gary smoke by the toilets to ease their troubles.  Gary has a black eye from being punched by a school-student and PEte still has his sores from his own mother stabbig him in her fit of jealousy.  Pete lets the niccotine waft through his lungs before the shout of a teacher alerts him to the fact that they have been busted.

Gary sucks in his breath.

"Teacher!"  he mutters before he stuffs his packet of cigaretts into Pete's pocket.

Pete feels the heavy package and scowls before the teacher turns him around to smell him.

"You stink like cigrettes!"  tells Mr Savv

"So you stink like drink!"  tells Pete as he tries to shrug off the teachers grip.

"So stink, and you..."  Mr Savv feels Pete's pockets.  "You smoke!"  he calls before he takes the cigarette's and pulls them out.

"They aren't mine;"  tells Pete as he grows a feud inside of his mind.  "They are my brothers;"  he adds.

"Where is your brother?"  asks Mr Savv as he glares at Pete.

Pete turns his head and see nobody behind him, he grows red face but hs eyes moisten at the helplessness inside of his heart.

"I don't know, he was here;"  tells Pete as he grows soppy and wet.

"He is nowhere!"  tells Mr Savv.  "And you are to go home with an expulsion slip;"  he adds before he urges Pete to follow him to the Principals office.

 

Pete walks home in a stroppy mood, and he throws his expulsion slip on the dinner table.

"What is this?"  asks Evon as she raises her brows.

"Expulsion!"  declares Pete as he glares at Gary and seeths.  "That stupid so and so put cigarettes inside of my pocket!"  he tells.

"Not!"  tells Gary as he narrows his eyes.  "The stupid oaf was caught smoking!"  he announces.

Evon laughs as she gasps out her surprise.

"Well that's a crime!"  she declares.

"You are the crime you stupid so and so!"  tells Pete before he lunges across the table to give Gary a couple of menacing slaps.

Gary kicks the table and makes the plates sway as Pete has his gut bumped.  Pete then climbs over the table to hit Gary once again, and within moments his mother Evon has his waist in her arms and she is pulling him off the table to drag him into the den.

Inside the den Evon hits Pete hard until his fighting hands fall limp, and then she grabs and axe and swings -  the axe cuts a portion of Pete's hair off before it slams against the cement.  Pete grows white with scared, but his temper makes him want to battle his mother and so he uses his hands to punch at her -  he misses as he swings, and Evon pick up the axe and slams it hard -  it hits Pete's chest and slices his skin open.  Pete whimpers as he feels a hot sting and then he rests before the axe is pulled out of his body and thrown into the corner of the room.

"Don't hit me again!"  tells Evon as tears run down Pete's face.

"Why are you always taking his side?"  asks Pete as he glares at his mother with spite.

"Whose side?"  asks Evon.

"Gary's side!"  scolds Pete as he feels his heart sink. 

"I take no one's side;"  tells Evon as she crooks her head.  "I am on everyone's side;"  she adds. 

"Then why do you love him and not me?"  asks Pete as he feels his emotions slip.

"I love you both;"  tells Evon as she shrugs.  "You are both my kids;"

"Then you hit Gary with the axe!"  tells Pete.

"Oh no!"  scolds Evon as she steps back.  "You were hitting Gary, you deserve to be punished;"

"Punished with an axe?"  asks Pete as he gulps through a cry and a sob. 

"All punishments;"  tells  Evon as she rubs her head.  "You need to be given all punishments;"  she adds.  "It makes you good;" 

"I don't want to be good!"  tells Pete as he shivers.  "I want to be left alone!"

"Then be good;"  tells Evon as she shrugs.

"I don't want to be good!" screams Pete as he grows defiant.

"Then be bad, and your head!"  adds Evon before she moves to go upstairs.

Pete smiles as he sees his chance!  He fights his pain and crawls over to the fallen axe with a hand held against his gut.  He picks up the axe and then he stands.  With one arm he throws the axe before he stumbles back down onto the cement with some loose guts inside of his hand.  The axe hits Evon and she screams before she stumbles into the basement.  Gary pokes his head over the stairs and laughs before he leaves to call an ambulance.

 

A week passes and Pete is forced to stay in the hospital while Avon is allows to return home.  She only needed stitches, Pete needs monitoring to ensure that he is not suffering any heamorraging or other ailments from having had half his body split in two with a fierce ae wound. 

A few weeks pass and Pete is allowed to return home, when there Evon hits him with a sauce pan and flattens his face with it!  Pete cries out as the heated pan burns his face, but after five minutes he is spat on and left alone.

"What did I do?"  he asks Gary who glares as he smokes a cigarette.

"You threw an axe at her;"  mutters Gary.

"Well she cut my body in half!"  tells Pete as he scowls.  "I had to spend three weeks in there eating hospital food;"  she adds.  "And what does she get? One day?"

"One week;"  tells Gary before he laughs.  "You get yourself in a fix;"  he adds.  "You can't even see you had a bleeding nose;"  he adds.

Pete feels his face for blood and sees none. 

"I don't know..."  he mutters before he turns to face the mirror on the side of the room.

There is blood on the top of his nose where some bone has broken through.

"Now I need a nose-job!"  he adds.

"Nah, just put a band-aid on it;"  tells Gary as he shrugs. 

"That might be an idea;"  tells Pete as he runs strained fingers through his hair.

"i'm going to the book burning down the street tonight, maybe you want to come?"

"i just came from hospital;"  tells Pete as he shivers over the idea of going for a walk.  "I can't go;"

"It's down the street;"  tells Gary.

"I'll watch it from the window;"  tells Pete as he broods.

"You can't!"  tells Gary as he grows a temper.  "You need to catch the bus to get there;"  he adds.

"I'll go tomorrow;"  tells Pete as he closes his eyes.  "I'm going to rest;"  he adds.

"Come tonight;"  tells Gary as he grows persistant.  "I don't want to go alone;"  he adds.

Pete laughs and opens his eyes to stare at Gary, and in the distance he sees Evon as she stands back with a knife inside of her hand.  Pete stops laughing and stands, before he walks out the door -  Gary follows after waving goodbye to his mother.

 

Pete follows Gary towards the bonfire which stinks like rotten meat being cooked after a month in the fridge. Pete rubs his nose and then looks to Gary.

"This place stinks!"  he adds.  "What are they cooking?"  he asks.

"I don't know, they're burning books;"  tells Gary as he grows white in the face.

"Books?"  asks Pete as he raises his brows.  "Books?  This smells like meat!  I bet there's a cow or a horse being roasted!"  he adds before he steps through the crowd to see what is being burnt.

Books and magazines are being thrown to keep the flames up, but when Pete gets close enough he sees that there are dead bodies being roasted on the fire. 

"This isn't what I thought;"  mutters Pete as he grows sunk over seeing a dead baby corpse get tossed onto the fire.

Pete nudges the person next to him.

"Is this cremation of the dead?"  he asks.

"Yes it is;"  hisses the stranger. 

"Why are they dead?"  asks Pete as he raises his brows.

"They were killed;"  tells the stranger as he glares at Pete with hunger inside of his eyes.  "By us;"  he adds.

"You killed all these people?"  asks Pete as concern makes his spine stiffen.  "Why?"  he asks.

"Gang related issues;"  tells the stranger as he smells the sweat on Pete's skin.

The burning bodies makes him hungry and he grabs Pete's arm to urge him towards the fire.

"Hop onto it;"  he mutters.

Pete feels his heart break out in rhythems.

"Get away from me;"  mutters Pete as he grows concerned before a push makes him stumble back.

Fire licks at Pete's shirt to make it warm, but it does not quiet ignight only burns the tops of the shirt thread.

"Get onto it!"  tells the stranger in a rough tone. 

Pete trembles as he looks around -  he does not know what to do.  He prays for a bird, and gets only the screams of his brother who has been grabbed to be urged towards the fire.  Gary stuggles to get free, and when he does he punches the person who has grabbed him so hard they stumble back.  Pete throws a punch towards the stranger he has met, and he gets gutted with a punch that causes his stitches to pop.  Pete feels blood moisten his t-shirt and he groans, however Gary hits the stranger to make him stagger away before he grabs Pete's hand and urges him to run. 

 

The two boys run, they run hard for twenty minutes before bursting into their mothers home to catch their breaths. 

Evon glares as her sons lock the door and nestle on the carpet to tremble.

"What has happened?"  she asks.

"Book burning;"  mutters Gary through cold lips. 

"Burning bodies not books;"  tells Pete as he smiles over the pain lodged inside of his chest.

Body burning?"  asks Evon as she grows white in the face.  "That's gang!" she scolds. "Where did you learn about it?"  she asks.

"Gary;"  tells Pete as he looks to Gary who smokes as he shivers.

"A  friend;"  mutters Gary as he holds his arms against his waist.

"Well you don't talk to that friend again!"  scolds Evon as she grows a quick temper.  "You don't go out to see another book burning either!"

"I won't;"  mutters Gary as his lips turn white.

Evon settles her temper down and she shrugs before she looks at Pete whose face has turned almost grey.

"You need an ambulance;"  she adds as she sees blood on his shirt and arms.

Pete looks at his body and he almost shrieks as he sees blood.   As he looks at Evon she is lifting the phone off the hook.

"You do care!"  he exclaims as he smiles.

Gary rolls his eyes Pete grows illuminate.

"She cares about me;"  tells Pete as he leans back upon the wall.  "I thought she hated me forever;"  he mutters before he finally blacks out.

In the back of his mind Pete runs towards Gary who is smoking before a large fire.  He passes Gary and runs up the burning fire, and he keeps running until he reaches the top.  With fire on his shoes he jumps up and down shouting out his victory, that he has won and is standing on the top of the Devil's mountain. A walk of black watches him, and Pete feels ever more powerful as flame rise high all around his shoulders dancing with him as he cheers.

The Cold Princess

Once upon a time there was a fair maiden who was trapped in a tower. Her father had placed her there so that she stay a pure maiden until her marriage at her ripe age when which she would marry Prince Frederik. The Princess lamented every day as she could feel her face grow too cold when trapped inside stone walls, and every day she whispered to the wind to be sent a galliant knight who would set her free! However the wind failed to send her message to a galliant knight, it only sent her message to the owls who could only hoot through the night to ease the princessess misery. The princess grew cold, and colder still, and one winter she fell into a deep sleep in which she could not awaken. When her father found out she was unable to wake he asked for the village to build his princess a large fire, and soon all the viallge had their furniture and hay piled outside the fire and lit to warm the princess into wake. The fire burned and caused even the rabbits buried deep underneatht he ground to sweat, but still the princess did not wake! So the king placed the princess by the fire, and still the princess did not wake.

"This is all my fault!" cried the king in lament. "My dearest daughter has fallen under a cold spell from which she cannot wake!"

A taunting witch listening nearby then uttered a cry.

"That princess is dead!" the witch cried out. "Put her on the fire and let her fly!"

The king gasped and turned around, but the village doctor agreed that the body was so far turned that he could only write a script of 'dead' and have the king taught a cold lesson well learned.

The king bowed his head, and tossed his mind into shame, he had forgotten to keep the princesses cold prison warm and she had hence been maimed.

"Fine place her onto the fire;" he agreed.

The task was duely done. The witched then laughed.

"That princess had been cast under spell from which I could have had her undone!"

The king sighed as the witch ran away, and on the fire the princess woke and screamed! All the water in the village well was poured onto that fire, but the ashes spred too far and so the village people ran.

By morning there was only a lake of ash, and it was swept across with the wind on which the princess still sails to tell her tale.

　

Sex Games

Trisha began to play with her hair as soon as she saw Greg. Greg was a strapping young man with fine body and good looks, however he was her sister Anne's boyfriend and that made Trisha stop in her tracks. She had a crush and it made her feel warm inside, however she didn't want to get carried away with her feelings when they were attached to Greg, and so Trisha sighed and turned a page of newspaper - she no longer wanted to think of Greg, she wanted to get her mind on something else! But as the hours passed thoughts of Greg hopped inside of her mind and Trisha began to feel her face turn red. Her mind wandered over a range of things she might be able to do with Greg if he were her boyfriend, and all of her thoughts were sexual.

"I have to get away from my naughty thoughts!" complained Trisha as she rubbed her head. "I had better go for a swim!"

However even when swimming Greg would not pop out of Trisha's mind, and so she rolled her eyes and slipped into a dress.

"I have got to get these thoughts out of my head!" she warred.

　

Later that evening when the family had dinner Trisha looked at Anne with Greg and she began to grow jealous. Trisha wanted her sister Anne out of her life for good, and she wanted her boyfriend Greg with her.

"I have to do something!" stated Trisha as she continued to look at Anne and Greg as they shared corn and peas.

　

Later that evening Trisha walked into Anne's room and she saw Anne with Greg as they cuddled in their sleep. Trisha tilted her head, for a moment the tought of a car running over then both crossed her mind, but she backed up on her wicked fantasy.

'I had better check to see what Greg thinks of me;' she warred inside of her mind as she felt butterflies knot inside of her belly.

Trisha touched Greg's shoulder and whispered to him as his eye lids popped open.

"Phone call..." wispered Trisha.

Greg rubbed his eyes to wake himself.

"At this hour?" he asked.

"It's your mother;" told Trisha as she glared at Greg. "She said it was important and can't wait;" she added.

Greg shrugged and then he moved; in moments he was out of bed, in minutes he was inside of her bedroom holding a silent phone up to his ear.

"What gives?" asked Greg as he frowned at Trisha. "There is no one here!" he declared.

"I know I set you up;" told Trisha with a smile. "I wanted you inside my bedroom;" she added.

"What a naughty trick!" declared Greg as he put down the phone. "You are naughty Trisha!" he added.

"Naughty because I want to talk to you..." told Trisha before another breath had passed.

"What for?" asked Greg as he shrugged.

"I want to know if you would..." the words 'go out with me' ran through Trisha's mind, but Trisha changed her mind as they sounded too distanced even for her ears. "Make out;" added Trisha with a cough.

"With you? asked Greg as he raised his brows. "With you?" he repeated in a tone deep and strong. "No, I am going to bed!" he declared.

"I wouldn't ask you but I am in the mood;" told Trisha as she blinked. "I can't ask my dad;" she declared. "So I thought..."

"No;" told Greg in a firm tone.

"What about just a small kiss?" asked Trisha as her heart lept. "Just one!" she asked as she clutched at Greg's arm.

Greg peeled away Trisha's fingers and shook his head, however while shaking he noticed the tears in Trisha's eyes and so he decided to soften his cold heart.

"Okay one kiss;" told Greg after a resigned sigh. "But then I'm gone, and no more;" he told.

"Sure thing!" laughed Trisha as she smiled.

"Okay;' whispered Greg before he offered Trisha a generous kiss.

Once their lips wer locked together Trisha didn't want to let go, and so she clutched at Gregs body, then his head, and then he pushed her away as fast as his hunger began to burn his crotch-line.

"I told you just the one!" told Greg as he grew mad. "No I am going to leave;"

Trisha laughed as she danced in front of the door and she grew into such a fantasy that Greg disappeared. It was a shove from Greg whish woke Trisha up from her fantasy, and that was when she crashed into the cupboard.

"Oww!" Trisha cried before she turned around to face Greg who stared at her with worry that he may have done her some harm.

"I'm sorry, you are just one lame weirdo;" he muttered before he left.

Trisha rubbed her face and shrugged.

"Well I still got a kiss!" she declared before she moved to inspect her face in front of a mirror.

　

Greg hung around in the hall - he had guilt on his chest and he couldn't get himself to move towards his bed, and so he lingered and muttered appologies under heated words.

"How dare she!" he said over again, but hsi honesty twinged the right string to lead him to Trisha's room for anapology.

"Hi Greg!" cheered Trisha as Greg entered the room.

"Look Trisha I am sorry for pushing you, you started me;" told Greg.

"I'm sorry I startled you Greg, what I really wanted to do was startle you more!" told Trisha as she pounced on her chance to get Greg on the top of her affections.

"What did you want to do?" asked Greg as he crooked his head.

"Ask for a lay;" told Trisha as she played with her hair. "The night is hot and I wanted you to make me feel in paradise!"

"Ridiculous!" charged Greg as he flew a fit inside of his brain.

"Why? You came back because you wanted to chase after me!" told Trisha as she grew cold and fevered inside of her chest.

"I did not!" warred Greg as he began to grow spite for his softer side. "I wanted to tell you that I was sorry;" he added.

"Prove it and kiss me to appologise!" told Trisha.

"Trisha!" gasped Greg.

"Then give me a lay!" told Trisha in war.

Greg shook his head and then he backed out of the room.

"I have to go to bed!" he declared.

"Go but come back when you want to be laid!" told Trisha before the door slammed closed.

　

Greg walked back and forth in the hall. He didn't want Trisha but he was interested in her - she was hungry for a lay, and he was hungry for one too; but he couldn't go back to her room, or could he? The prospect of it being a good idea startled him.

"Okay I will give her one lay, but that's it!" declared Greg as he shrugged.

So Greg walked back to Trisha's room and he surprised her with a smile.

"Okay I will give you one lay;" he declared.

Trisha smiled and moved to her bed - she couldn't believe that he wanted to give her a lay.

　

Their off-hand romance in the bed lasted one hour, and by that end Trisha was sweaty and exhausted and so was Greg. They fell asleep inside of each others arms, and in the morning when they woke they romanced once again.

　

Days passed and Trisha grew in awe of her romance, and so did Greg. When Anne looked at Greg she noticed that he couldn't peel his eyes away from Trisha. Trisha grew into a blushing teen over the attention and Anne raised her hands.

"If you like her Greg then go out with her, I don't want you any more!" she declared in earnest as her and Greg snuggled together in the one bed.

"Like who?" asked Greg.

"Trisha! You are eying her like you want her!" told Anne as she chewed on her fit.

"I want her;" told Greg. "I am smitten;" he added.

"Then leave!" told Anne.

"Okay I will leave;" told Greg before he moved to Trisha's room.

Trisha smiled at Greg - she knew Greg had come to be with her but there was a rule to her naughty romance.

"Greg if you want to be with me then you shall help me kill your last girlfriend;" she told as she smiled.

"Kill Anne?" asked Greg as he stared at Trisha. "Your sister?" he sked.

"Oh yes!" told Trisha. "It meansyou want to be with me forever!" she declared.

Greg bowed his head as he shook inside of his bones as Trsha told him how he was to kill her sister - with a pillow! Greg wanted to say no, but he wanted Trisha more then Anne so he moved back to Anne's bedroom and covered her face with a pillow and kept it there until Anne was unable to breathe. Greg then went to Trisha's room and gave her a lay and by morning her parents found them together.

"Anne has had a stroke, you two kids stay here!" told Trisha's father George.

Trisha gasped as Greg chilled, and when left alone the two took on romance once again.

"I can't believe you did it!" told Anne as she smiled at Greg. "You will now be with me forever!" she declared.

"That is your imprisonment;" told Greg before he offered Trisha a kiss.

　

Marriage To The Lord

I fight the word 'marriage' inside of my mind, I fight it all I can! I look across and see a lord trying to make me something other then human, and I want to tell him to go away! But he smiles at me as though I am the world of his heart, and I can only grow pale as frosted snow! How dare he look at me that way! How dare he sign a letter to grant my family treasure so I can be his sport! I feel disgusted but not as disgusted as the knights behind his lords spine. They look at me with all the evil their eyes can carry, and I know they are baming me before i even nod to allow for a crown to be placed upon my head! They are blaming me for a war unfought, for a debt unpaid, for a stone that remains unbroken. They are already blaming me for loss before the marriage has been completed and all I want to to is scream 'I never wanted this!'

I clasp my fingers to pray but all they do is shake - I can't control it, they shake, and so does my temper as my cheeks burn. I cause a fire that melts the ice on the walls, and in a bout I grow weakened from the distress; but I am passed a cup that helps to warm my insides and calm my mind, and I sit drinking until a cheer breaks the silence. The cheer comes from the lord and my family, the knights however only smile slightly.

"Done!" tells my new husband before he seals the parchment and gives it to my father. "Good dead!" he declares.

"And here is your wife;" tells my father before he places a hand on my spine.

My hairs raise and my skin trembles, I am amazed I can smile through the blur of the moment. I drink on the warm wine I have been given - it tastes of blood, evil bood that fills me with red enough to brighten my face and rouge my lips. I want to scream I have been poisoned, but I have been only been given the Lords blood to drink.

"And I wondering drink!" declares my father whose face has become like mine, illuminate and beautiful.

"That drink has been made for me!" declares the Lord before he too takes a taste.

For a moment the world is beautiful as all come close to take a cup of wine inside of their mouths. For the whole night everyone is pretty and smiling like rich snobs; by morning I have become overwhelmed enough to say 'I am in love with you Lord'. But of course there is no real love inside of my heart - the moment that has passed has been a trance and a delusion which fast fades as the pine cones are brought to me to be painted. I paint the pine-cones with less love, and for a whole day I suffer as I paint the pine-cones - one bundle after another! By the end of the next day my fingers are dry and I need to nurse them with oil and cotton cloth. The trance has ended, I am no longer in love.

I lie to the Lord as we express written vows, I lie to the preacher and all the men and women gathered all around. I have cast myself to the devil as I lie to allow for the marriage to continue on, and inside of their minds all hiss at me - they know I have decieved them before I have even given myself to them and to the Lord. However no one utters a word, the screaming silence lingers as the marriage progresses, and soon we are holding hands and welcoming each other with dry words of fondness - my heart almost breaks!

The comes the night and its feasting - an endless tasting of flesh and blood! The meat is pile high on the dishes and the wine is passed by the jug - there is eating and cheer, but not much bauty, not as the first time I had tastd the Lord's wine. I look to the Lord and shiver - I shrink with my eyes cast onto his image, and as he looks at me I almost kill myself! I have married a king!

The bed chamer is cold at night as i share my first embrace with the Lord to which i am married - he is not like the only boys i had grown up with in our palace, he is broader, larger, taller, heavier, mightier, and warmer, then any other! I carry on pain as I suffer through a fast union and it leaves me screaming out o my mouth and inside my body! Whatever has been fed to me grows up fast at an unnatural rate, and by morning I am carrying what I fear to be a demon!

"That is my son!" tells the Lord befor he offers a cold peck with iced lips. "You are now my queen!" he adds before he leaves me alone.

I cry for months - the child inside of me is unnatural and I know it! I can't even stand, and many doctors and wise men are sent forth to treat me; but they cannot cure the pain of child-birth, and for another two months I cry as my womb dribbles blood which the knights around me are only too eager to lick up if they were offered the chance! I sleep many nights with cannibles close, and then one morning my body splits in half and my child is torn from me.

"A prince!" the knights cry as they wrap my child in cloth woven with gold thread. "Let us drink!" they cheer.

I am left to drown in my sorrows once again - without a child inside of me my body feels dead, and for a week I fall into a slumber from which I cannot wake. However then I am awakened and when i am I am given my child - he is heavy as I hold him, but as he looks at me I fall in love.

For years I walk with my child, I teach him lessons, and I play with him. We dine for hours enjoying our every moment, but then the knights come into my dorm and take hime away!

"Where is my child to be taken?" I asked while dazed and confused, as shock destroys the peace I have spent years in.

"To the training yard!" tells one knight before the gather leaves.

I cry as I am left alone - a swift parting has left me hurt!

in mistake I show my depression and the Lord hits me when he returns home from an excusion. He has been gone for years and I have never missed him once, and I wish him gone as a smack tears my cheek apart and spills my blood.

"My blood on earth? I curse to you!" I cry as the Lord stares at me with horrible vacant eyes.

He has aged a century in his excursion and I wish to call out deciet! Fast aging comes from unnatural activities and he has to swear against our marriage to conduct such an evil. But he is not seen as evil, only good, even as he pours salt on my wound he is seen as the Lord, and I am forced to kiss his hand so unholy before telling him the lie that i am not a traitor to our love.

"What love?" I question inside of my mind as the Lord leaves me alone. "What love?" I mutter quietly, only the wind can hear me.

The following day a knight visits me as i wipe oil on my cut cheek. He bows as he enters and I say a cold hello.

"What business?" I ask, unable to mutter more then two words lest I break my tongue with one hard bite of my teeth.

"The wind has talked to me and I have heard your tale;" tells the knight. "You shall not lie to me, and I shall ask you only once 'why do you not love the Lord'?"

"I do!" I lie as I spit.

"Not!" charges the kight in a tone hot but a face rock still.

"I do;" I mutter as I shy away from the knight who looks mighty despite the fact that he is not more then a knight.

"I could hit you for being such a bad liar!" tells the knight as he circles me like a bird eyeing his prey. "What does your family make from this marriage?"

"Gold!" I tell the knight as I stand and move away. "Why are you being horrible to me? Am I not your Queen?" I ask.

"Not as a liar as you are!" tells the knight as he glares at me with spite and taunt.

"A liar as you are!" mutters the wind behind his head.

"What are you?" I ask as three knights form behind the one that dares challenge me with so much rude. "Get away, you are a witch!" I cry out.

"Not!" tell the knight as he smiles a cold smile. "Not as you are!" he adds.

I feel daunted as the three knights behind draw three silver swords whose bodies turn bright silver as though made from real steel.

"A witch as you are!" tells the knight before he lunches forth and chokes me of my breath with the tips of his fingers.

I wake up from my grave and grow scared - the room I am in is cold as a tomb! However it is not a tomb, it is a vault, and around me is a circle of nights amongst a circle of torches. I grow frighted that the knights plan to light me with the torches! But the torches I discover are fastened on the wall behind each shoulder and do not wish me any harm. It is the mocking of a jester that spears my breast. He flickers words that are splintered and hot,like fire being spit out from its ditch with kerosine. He taunts me with a mask that is malformed and mean, and for a moment I forget I am a Queen and not a little girl. A knife is drawn fron the Jesters pocket and it is passed to the knights who break the knife in portions so that everyone has a knife!

"That was the mother of all knives!" tells the Jester before he laughts in a mean way as the group gather close.

"What are all of you doing?" I ask as the knives are raised high.

"A savage!" cries the Jester before he flocks away as the knives sail down.

That knight my royal cloth is cut into pieces, and my morning I am once again heavy with another child!

The Lord looks at me as he holds a fire-brand inside of his hand. He wishes to brand me to remind me I am a Queen, however he does not brand my shoiulder only my stomach with the child sitting so comfortably inside.

"This bastard with serve as a knight as soon as he is born, and you are not to utter a cry as I cut his throat so that he may sit tall as a ghost amongst my band of knights!" tells the Lord who sweats.

As my skin is burned so is his hair - it turns ash and wilts as my body is mutilated! My gut is ripped apart, and the child is taken out of my soiled womb, before I am sewen back together. I scream, the child scream, and the smell of burning skin raises to the ceiling. It is a horrible nightmare as my new childs throat is cut so that his blood may strain his birth-blankets, and then eveil potion is passed around which poisons me and kills the cries of my child. I see my child's ghost rise like an adult before I faint. When I am woken it is with the cry of a bird which has flown through the window - it tells me I am dead, it is the smell of my own blood on my belly that remind me I am alive.

I am in sickness for months. My wounds infect and are treated over and again. I am fed wine and poison but nothing warms me - even the fire feels like ice even as my fingers are brought close until my nails are burnt from its touch. I hardly eat, I just wade in a pool of ache, and every night I cry as prayers from women are whispered to keep my brain alive. I blink at each day unable to believe that I will last another. It is only after much turmoil that I am at last fed medicine to ease me, and it is then I heal.

I am looked to as I enter a large room to sit on a throne beside my Lord. The knights and my grown second son stand on one side, the Lord and his fist child on the other - I want to smile, but I fall and sink to the floor. It is overwhelming, and the Jester taunts me in humiliation as I fail to make it to my seat. I am left on the floor as the gathering move on to eat - cushions are stuffed under me, but I cannot move. I feel dead, am dead in my heart, I can't even stand! I am crippled and the Jester dances on around me as he makes me the Queen of Shame.

"What Queen?" I asked inside of my mind. "I am naught but a girl;" I add.

But my crown heavy on my head tells a different truth and I am made a liar once again.

"Go away!" I tell the Jester with a wave of my hand, but my lips fail to move.

"Not under your command!" tells the Jester before he throws blood on my clothes.

It is not until many hours later my clothes are removed to be cleaned, and it is then I learn that I am still too weak to continue on as Queen.

"I should be dismembered!" I mutter to the Lord as he touches my belly and my wounds.

"Not until I am ready to eat you;" mutters the Lord before he uses magic inside of his blood to heal me and make me like new. "And I am not ready as yet;" he adds. "You shall remain my Queen;"

"Then you should remain my Lord;" I mutter as a person under a trance.

"Then you shall keep your new body;" tells the Lord. "And rest your soul;" he adds before he leaves me to rest through a night without pain or suffering.

And I sleep with a smile on my face, and by morning I am able to take a seat as Queen once again.

　

　

　

　

　

　

Model Murder

In dark alley Addison parks his car.  He has stopped for a cigarette and he breathes it in like his life relies on it.  He recalls the meeting he had with his boss -  he needs to kill one model per week.  Addison shakes his head as his watch picks up on his excellerated pulse.

"Why a model?"  he asks.

In the back of his mind however he knows why -  models are poor people who parade themselves on the catwalk for fame or a dime, nothing more.

"I hate to need to kill the pretty ones;"  he mutters before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

A parade of models march through his mind, and Addison grows fever under his skin as he watches them float before his eyes.  Their faces are skinny, but their bodies are perfect.  He looks at them and grows awe, but his stare is covered by the sound of a gun which shoots one of the models who shrieks before they fade away.

"i hate having to kill anyone, but this job is a crime!"  tells Addison before he spies a young blonde woman walking past his windscreen. 

Addison narrows his eyes at the woman -  she is pretty and thin, but she is short; surely too short to be a model. 

Addison opens his passenger window and calls to the woman who turns around.

"I don't suppose you are a model are you?"  asks Addison. 

"Sure, I was photographed last year to attend a shoot!"  she exclaims.

"But did you get the job?"  asks Addison.

The woman blushes and shakes her head.

"No;"  she replies.

"Have you ever gotten any modelling job?"  asks Addison. 

"I won a beauty contest once;"  tells the woman.  "It was for a magazine, and they took my picture;"  she tells.

"What contest?  What year?"  asks Addison.

"Cover Queen magazine, 2001;"  tells the woman before she shrugs.  "It's just a small publication;"  she adds.

"Well that is something;" tells Addison before he pops the lock on the rear door of the car.  "How about you pop into the back and we can discuss about you making model headlines?"  he asks.  "I'm a manager;"

"Really?"  asks the woman as she grows breathless from the excitement.  "Sure!"  she tells before she slips into the back of the car.

When inside Addison locks the door and starts the car.  He then drives off -  the woman surprised and unsure about where he is taking her to, or what will happen when the car stops.

 

A dead body floats by the marshy banks whose mud has drunk her blood into the soil.  Two detectives - Carl and Andrew - look at the body of someone in their late twenties and sigh.  She has no wallet or identification, she is only a floating corpse that has been stabbed and dumped.

"What is the world coming to?"  asks Carl as he itches his nose.  "This is murder;"

"Contract;"  tells Andrew as he glares at the burnt fingers whose tips are ash black.  "Someone was paid to do this, those fingers have been burnt to prove an assassin did it;"

"But why?"  asks Carl as he shrugs.  "Why to such a beautiful person?"

"Money;"  tells Andrew before he steps away.  "It's always about money;"  he adds.

"Money!"  scoffs Carl before he too steps away.  "Let's pack this dead body up!"  he urges the men standing around. 

The body is dragged out of the water -  it is half frozen and stiff as a board.  Ice falls off its shoulders and splinters the frosted ground. 

"We had better get back to the office;"  tells Carl as he lights a cigarette.  "There is nothing left to do;"

 

A group of models parade themselves on the catwalk.  There are plenty of celebrity models, however Addison tries to ignore them as he catches the eye of Emma Wright -  a catwalk model who made her first break after she had finished one motion picture movie. 

"How are you tonight darling?"  asks Addison as he glares at Emma as she cringes over her runny right eye. 

"I'm a bit late!"  she gushes before she uses a tissue to blot her eye.  "I've got a tricky costume to put on!"  she adds before she stands up and pulls out a dress from the nearby clothes rack.

It is a rainbow fish-cut dress with scarves and pantihose to suit the new-age image.  Emma shivers as Addison leers and she turns towards him to inspect his attention -  it is directly on her, and she cringes.

"Do you mind?  I need to put this on!"  she gushes as Addison fidgets with one of the hairbands she has left on her dressing table. 

"Don't let me stop you;"  tell Addison as he leans to the side.

Emma narrows her eyes and then she pouts.  She turns her back and hurries to take her clothes off.  Her chest heaves as embarrassment catches inside of her chest, and she feels her fingers shake as she hurries to slip on her dress. 

A shout alarms the nearby models who rush to slip onto the stage.  Emma rushes to put her costume on, but Addison catches her arms and pushes them bhind her back.  Emma wants to scream but she is more then a bit turned on.  She hopes Addison is a millionaire as he pries the dress out of her fingers to throw it away.  More models race past, blind to the action that is happening in front of dressing table three; soon the backstage is empty.

"Let me go, I need to get onto stage!"  tells Emma as sweat pads her brow.

"You missed curtain call this time;"  tells Addison as he runs his fingers over her arms to her shoulders.

Emma feels the hairs on her arms become raised but she does nothing to warn anyone of Addisons advances.  As he fingers her neckline she thinks it is to brush her hair from her shoulders, however he catches her neck and squeezes and with buldging eyes Emma suffocates until she falls down dead.

 

Carl looks at the model whose legs stick out of the backstage garbage bin and he shrugs as his team take photographs and prints. 

"A dumpster kill!"  he seeths as he taps his pen upon his notepad.

"A young model named Emma Wright;"  tells Andrew as he inspects the legs for bruises.  "Well there doesn't seem to be any real damage on the body, let's take a look at her head!"  he adds.

The team of photographers turn into a team of body snatchers who pull the body out of the bin and place it on the cement below. 

Carl and Andrew drop their jaws as they see both eyes pulled out of their sockets, the lips mutilated, and the throat slashed in half!

"Knife wound;"  tells Andrew before he takes a photograph for his file. 

"Burnt fingers;"  tels Carl as he inspects the fingers.  "Another assassin;"  he adds.

"Who likes to pray on females;"  tells Andrew.  "Burning their fingers;"  he adds.

Andrew looks closely at Emma's pale neck and sees red marks on either side of the throat cut. 

"She may have been strangled;"  tells Andrew as he squnits.  "I'll circle various deaths before sending her to the forensic team;"  he adds. 

"Whoever is doing this is mighty tricky;"  tells Carl.  "Well have to interview whoever had last seen Emma to know more about this murder;"

"I did already -  the manager saw nothing, the models know nothing; there are no hints to solve this case;"  tells Andrew as he shrugs. 

"Then we'll pull the body into the lab and see what we can discover;"  tells Carl before he takes a picture and then leaves to write up a report in the car.

 

Lisa and Wendy are two sisters who have been modelling since they were kids.  They finish a night's worth of photo shoot before they leave the studio.  They feel dirty wearing their make-up outside, but their minds are not set on their faces only the money in their pockets.

"I want ice-cream!"  tells Wendy as she sucks on the nail polish on her finger.

"I want pizza!"  tells Lisa before she laughs.

The two sisters head towards their car, but are stopped by highbeam lights of a car beyond theirs. They put their hands up to their faces and squint -  they can see nothing!  However a shot makes Lisa's breasts explode and blood splinters Wendy and the white car next to them. 

"Lisa!"  screams Wendy as she watches her sister fall onto the cement. 

"Wendy!" mutters Lisa as she raises her hands up high to touch Wendy's fingers.

However another shot makes Wendy's head explode and she falls to the cement in seconds as a spray of blood falls from her temple.

 

Carl shakes his head as Andrew nibbles on his fingers. 

"A double murder!"  tells Carl before he steps back.  "Gun-shot - inventive!"  he adds.

"A double mistake!  We'll grab throse bullets and find that gun!"  tells Andrew before he scrawls a note down on his report.

Andrew lifts up a hand to inspect the fingers. 

"The fingers are clean;" he mutters as he scratches his head.  "A different person?"

"Long range killer;"  corrects Carl before he too bends over to inspect the fingers.  "This murder was planned;"  he adds. "The others were not -  the killer had to get too close to the previous ones to be able to choose his bait;"

"They all could have been planned;"  tells Andrew as he raises his brows.  "This is dirty work -  we'll have to think seriously what the link to all murders are;"

"All were women, three were models, all alone before being attacked;"  tells Carl as he shrugs.

"Maybe all of them were models?"  tells Andrew as he writes down a note.  "Maybe this is a model killer?"  he asks.

"Maybe;"  tells Carl as he scratches his hair.  "Or maybe the person likes women;" he adds.

"Maybe they went to the same beauty school?"  asks Andrew as he takes a monent to think.  "Maybe the killer is linked to the modelling industry?"  he asks.

"We'll have to investigate;"  tells Carl before he stands.  "Right after I have a shower;"  he adds before he scrapes his bloddied shoes on the cement.  "The blood stinks like rot when you dont clean yourself;"  he adds.

"So true;"  tells Andrew before he helps lead Carl back to his car.

 

Chrystine walks off the modelling stage and down the stairs that lead to a dark den where there are a range of mirrors.  Models flock and hurry to pack their bags before their leave -  they are dressed and gone in minutes while Chrystine sits untying her shoes. 

The stage manager Paul looks at Chrystine and smiles -  she is a fresh faced model who looks too amaeture for anything but one walk on the catwalk, and he enjoys her image a lot. 

"Want to join me for a drink?" he asks.

Chrystine looks up at Paul and shakes her head.

"No thanks, I don't drink!"  she adds as her fingers fumble on her shoe buckles.

"There will be a few people, not just me; you won't be alone if that's what your scared of;"

Chrystine knots her brows -  her sister had warned her not to accept drinks or nights out from anyone unless she wanted to end up on drugs and embarrassing highs; and with her school books under her brow she clears her throat.

"Look I just turned eighteen, I don't feel ready to drink;"  she declares.  "I'm finishing school in three weeks;"  she adds.

"So?"  asks Paul as he glares.

"So I need to go home;"  enthuses Chrystine as she rolls her eyes.  "Now go away I need to undress;"  she adds.

"How about you put your shoes on and check out the party -  it could lead to more modelling and big money;"  invites Paul undeterred by the brush off.

Chrystine pauses and glares at Paul -  he seems clean, but she had no idea if he is telling the truth or not.  She moves to shake her head, but she pauses -  she does want to be a model, and she does want to earn money; this party could be her big break!

"Well... okay;"  she mutters before she moves to buckle her shoes back on.

Chrystine stands up on wobbly ankles, and she walks towards Paul who catches her inside of his arm.  Together they walk into the party room where a large cheer is heard as they enter. Chrystine meets a lot of faces who smile as they pass her a drink.  Chrystine drinks and feels a warmth fill her, but that warmth turns into a slugginsh feeling that makes her near lose her head. 

Soon hands are pulling her onto a couch that is old and rickety.  It is then a hand grabs her throat as her vision is swept away by a barrage of blurs and spots.  Soon her throat is cut, and the voices turn into laughter as blood drenches her chest.

 

Carl looks at the body dangling off a fire-escape ladder.  He looks to Andrew who cringes as he lifts up the head and sees a bone-deep throat cut. 

"Murder;"  mutters Andrew as he feels his guts wobble.  "Murder!"  he declares as a portion of his brain grows upset.

"I've lost my head over this case;"  mutters Carl as he looks at Chrystine's burnt fingers.  "Models say they saw her alive backstage after the end of the show, but nothing else;"  he adds.

"Well then I guess we just call it murder;"  mutters Andrew before he lunges to the side where a small garbage can sits to throw up. 

"Bad breakfast?"  asks Carl as he glares.

"No, I've just fed my brain a rotten apple"  tells Andrew as he narrows his eyes.  "We can't give up on this case;"  he adds.  "Lives are at risk;"  he mutters.

"We'll keep working on it then;"  tells Carl as he writes down some notes. 

"Maybe;"  mutters Andrew as he shrinks away from Chrystine and the bin.  "We had better find some real clues fast or..."

"Or what?"  asks Carl as he raises his brows.

"Or I'll go on vacation!"  says Andrew as he narrows his eyes.  "To Koko Beach!"  he adds.  "Where blue waves, golden sands, met fresh breese which clear out the rotten stench of dead!"

 

Blue waves crash upon the golden sands as the fresh breese blows over to cool the warm skin of those on the beach.  Carl looks at Andrew as he leans back on his beach chair.

"This was a great idea;"  tells Carl as he smiles over his Island Punch drink.  "After thirty murders I feel like thinking about nothing but paradise;"

"Yes, that murder case was a professional on the war!"  tells Andrew as he too leans back in his chair.  "I am glad the case was shut, I didn't want to glare at another dead model corpse;"

"Maybe the fad will fade off;"  tells Carl as he smiles at a dog running along the shore.

"Maybe;"  mutters Andrew.  "Or maybe we'll have to shut down modelling?"

"Not likely!"  tells Carl as he smiles.  "The managers dont' consider death ugly, just unlucky;"  he adds.

"Well then let us consider ourselves lucky that we don't have to think about it any more;"  tells Andrew as he grins. "I am here to relax and forget;"

"'Relax and forget', that's a good motto;"  tells Carl as he crosses his feet.  "Let paradise wash us away;"  he adds.

"And the beaches clean those dead bodies off our fingers;"  adds Andrew before he closes his eyes to sleep.