Just realized I better throw my hat in the ring before I do something stupid and forget to.
|# ¿ Aug 21, 2012 21:48|
|# ¿ May 22, 2022 11:17|
I better submit this before I chicken out. As a preface, I’m a male Native American/White (My family got their freak on too much to list the different shades of white).
No Coming Back – word count 1498
It was raining in Georgetown again. Guyana never looked good, but with a gray sky it looked even more purulent. Maybe I was projecting, rain always ruined my mood. But there was definitely something in the air, something pungent and foul.
I’d just shut my office for the day. I worked the cases the police didn’t care about- usually crimes in the gay community, but every now and then a trans person would come in. Everyone wanted justice, but justice wasn’t as blind as they lead you to believe- we were the only South American nation where you could be still prosecuted for homosexuality.
I was on my way to pick up my boyfriend. He’d worked a double shift today, something he detested but never fought against. I told him they were trying to force him out but he was stubborn. His temper had gotten him into a lot of trouble in the past.
I ran into the bank out of the rain, shaking off my coat. I’d expected the rain to drive everyone in, but the bank was surprisingly empty. Jian was behind the counter working. He was the child of Chinese immigrants, but they hadn’t spoken to him since he came out. In spite of his usual demeanor it sent him into depression every now and then. “That’s our relationship,” I told myself. “Two broken people trying to pull each other back together.”
Jian looked up and smiled. I smiled back and approached the counter. He came around and kissed me.
“How was your day?” I asked him.
“Same old.” He replied, stepping away from the counter. “Vanessa’s being crotchety again.”
“You need to quit this job, Jian.”
“They’ll have to fire me.”
“Come on. You deserve a better than this.”
“I deserve to not have to hide who I am.” He shot back. We were at the door when he noticed he’d left his umbrella. “Be right back!” He shouted as he ran towards the desk.
I noticed his manager, Vanessa, staring at me disapprovingly. Guyana was as accepting of gays as it was of blacks; strained tolerance at best and outright hostility at worst. My being a gay black man certainly wasn’t helping. I tried convincing Jian to move with me somewhere more accepting in the past, but he was convinced that he could outfight everyone else.
I put my coat back on, threading the prosthetic through the sleeve. This was my memento from my days in the GDF. The arm was probably older than me. At least I had a hand instead of a hook. “Look on the bright side,” I thought, “this thing brought you to Jian.”
I noticed two men huddled outside in the rain. Something felt wrong. When the first turned around with a gun, I had no time to react.
I was on my rear end as they charged in, both holding pistols. The second one, trailing behind with a limp, kicked me in the head as he charged past. Everything went dark.
When I came to a police officer was loading me onto a stretcher. He was Pardo Brazilian, named Bernardes according to his nametag.
“What happened?” I asked, dazed.
“You have a slight concussion.” Bernardes replied.
I stood and looked around. Police milled about, but one thing stood out. Jian was missing.
“Where’s Jian?” I asked.
“Who? The teller? He…he didn’t make it.”
“What!?” I turned around, my heart racing.
“He tried to stop them. He got shot.” He looked at me. “If it’s any consolation, we arrested one of them.”
My mind reeled. I felt sick. Jian… I should have done something. “Done what?” I let the thought hang. I wasn’t sure what to do.
Jian had been the one to pull me out of the bottle after I lost my arm. He brought me around and sobered me up. If it hadn’t been for him I probably would have killed myself long ago. Now he was gone.
I turned back to Bernardes. My legs were weak and I had to lean against a desk for support.
“Where’s the robber you detained?”
“I need to speak to him.”
“He shot my boyfriend, goddammit.”
“Boyfriend? You-you’re gay? Listen, Bicha, you can’t see him.” I don’t know what made me madder, the insult or his refusal. I turned and left before I lost my composure.
My mind raced. The police would only care about the money. No one would give a poo poo that a gay man was killed. No one else would get justice for Jian. It was up to me
“If I can’t get to the robber from the outside, I’ll have to get to him from the inside.” I was acting before I finished thinking. I turned and looked at Bernardes. He was still looking at me. His face screwed up in surprise, then fear. He tried to dodge, but I was faster, hitting him hard across the face. By the sound he made I must have broken his jaw. The three nearest police officers charged, just as I’d hoped. The cuffs were on me before I hit the ground.
I’ve worked with police enough to know one important thing: Police are idiots. They try but they can’t help it. They put me in a cage with a dozen others and let me keep my coat and arm. They hardly even searched me for contraband.
I saw the robber right away. Joseph, an East-Indian kid grinning like a fool. I played dumb, like I was impressed by the robbery. Through broken English and Guyanese Creole we made friends real quick.
A black officer approached and banged on the bars. “Piss break.” This was my chance. Slim odds, but I’d played worse before. The officer made us cuff ourselves with another prisoner. No one was paying attention; I’d cuffed Joseph to my prosthetic.
The officer marched us out down a hall to a restroom with a bench out front and uncuffed the first pair. He sent the first man in and cuffed the second to his own wrist.
“Joseph, I have a plan.” I whispered. “I can slip these cuffs. You have a place to hide?”
He nodded in understanding.
“Good. Hold onto this.” When I took off my prosthetic, it caught him off guard.
Everyone froze and stared.
I bolted for the door, Joseph behind me. The officer gave chase but the inmate cuffed to him slowed him down. Joseph and I made it to the door and escaped before anyone could stop us.
Joseph led me to his partner’s shack near Buxton. Figures two lowlifes would come from that cess pit. Emanuel, the partner, was East-Indian as well. He had been the man that kicked me in the head. His foot twisted inwards, limiting his movement to a shuffling gait. We were sitting at a table with the bank money on it discussing our getaway.
“And the police didn’t follow you two?” Emanuel asked, aiming a pistol at me.
“They didn’t seem to care too much.”
Emanuel was trying to think but came up blank. “It seems a bit too easy.”
“What can I me to say? Police can’t be bothered to scratch their asses if it means they have to stand up.”
Emanuel nodded in agreement. I looked at the money on the table. Was Jian’s life worth this little? Maybe for these two, but not for me.
“You can hide here, but don’t touch the money.” Emanuel stood and left the room. He left the pistol on the table. “Joseph, give him his arm.”
“It’s still cuffed to me.” Joseph said.
“The hand screws off.” I offered. Joseph pulled the hand off and gave me the arm. I took it and grabbed the pistol. “Who’d you shoot at the bank?”
“Why?” Emanuel asked.
“Just some human being. Had it coming.” Joseph offered flippantly. I was beginning to lose my composure.
Joseph went to the fridge. I aimed the gun and stood.
“Anyone want a beer?” He asked. Emanuel turned around just in time to see Joseph’s head explode.
Emanuel tried to run. He couldn’t go fast with his limp. I caught him as he reached the window.
“Don’t.” Was all I could say. I held the gun to the back of his head, trying to keep it from shaking. Emanuel fell to his knees, sobbing.
“Take the money.” He pleaded.
“I don’t want the money.”
“You killed him.”
“He was the only good thing in my life, and you took him from me.”
That broke him. He bawled like a baby. Confessed every sin and swore it was an accident. He begged for mercy. It didn’t help him. There was no coming back from this. I’d fooled myself into believing I could be a decent person. With Jian gone, so was my chance at salvation. I had nothing to lose anymore. Forget redemption, I wanted revenge.
My ears were still ringing when I walked out.
|# ¿ Aug 23, 2012 17:19|
I've never actually seen any of the Mad Max movies. I'm just assuming this is a bad thing to be.
Don't worry, it's a quick death.
|# ¿ Aug 25, 2012 05:40|
Death is listening, and he'll take the first man that screams. I'm not screaming, I'm in.
|# ¿ Aug 28, 2012 21:19|
Interesting that we were all afraid to submit a horror story. In my defense I've written three different short stories for this week and was too burnt out to come up with another. Thanks to that though I've written more in the past two weeks than I have in over a month.
Also I've been working on a couple mad max losertars in my spare time. Should I PM them to a judge or just forget it?
Today was Tuesday, I think. I didn’t have a calendar, so I had a one in seven chance of being right. Tuesdays meant I had to go to the east wing and check the museum exhibits. There was a water recycler there that was always breaking, which meant a bit of work. This was all fine by me, it meant I could break out the lunar rover and go golfing again.
The east wing was humid, so I knew I had work to do. I moved the astronaut stand out of the way and set to work. My tool bag was getting worn out; I’d have to stop by the gift shop and pick up a new one.
“Welcome to the Lunar Resort!” Monty shouted. Monty was my best friend, if you could call the mascot that. He was just a cartoon on a video screen, but he had enough of his stands dotted around the resort that I could always talk to him. He was my only friend, but sometimes we argued.
Still, I didn’t like letting the resort go downhill. I was one of the colony’s engineers back when we were open, but that changed when the asteroid hit the earth. I wasn’t alone back then, you see, but over the years people died off. Mostly because they wouldn’t let me fix things like I was supposed to. At least there aren’t any more drat tourists around to break everything.
I looked at the recycler and gave it a good kick. Like a charm, it hummed to life. You can fix anything with a good kick. Air filtration, generators, water recyclers, even a Monty kiosk could get started again with a good solid boot to the rear end.
“The Apollo rover, one of the fastest ways to get across the moon surface!” Monty reminded me as I neared the rover. I put on the suit and jumped on. “Please don’t climb on the displays!” Monty yelled.
“Shut up, Monty.”
Stupid Monty. Security died twelve years ago when the monorail crashed.
Monty kept complaining while I drove to the airlock. He worried too much. The airlock cycled and I was free. I loved riding on the open surface. It meant I got to see Earth again. I crested my favorite crater and climbed out. I pulled out the golf club and gave a few golf balls a go.
Soon I was out of balls. They never lasted long enough. I jumped back on the rover and hunted them all down, but came up a few short. I must have hit them farther than the rest.
As I crested the next crater, my heart stopped. A large metal disc about twenty feet thick and fifty feet across covered with lights. It must have been a space ship! But were these aliens or humans? Was I saved or doomed? I felt a bulge in my throat. Only one way to find out. I grabbed a golf club and drove down to the ship.
The ship had an open airlock, as if waiting for me. I climbed through and the doors automatically cycled over. My life support system read the atmosphere as safe for breathing. I unclipped the helmet and yanked it off.
I made my way through the entire ship, but there was nothing aboard. My fear subsided and excitement took its place. If there are no aliens, then no one can stop me from taking this ship. Monty and I could get out of here finally! We could go anywhere! There were new things to fix!
I made it back to the airlock and put on my helmet. A few minutes on the rover and I was back at the resort. I had to round up enough food and find a way to get Monty on board. I stepped through the resort’s airlock and Monty greeted me. “Welcome to Terra Luna! The best vacation destination on, or off, world! Please stay with the tour group!” That was new. Monty never called me a tour group before. What did that mean?
That was when I saw them. Two aliens standing in the gift shop. Huge, pale squid like things with one compound eye and a white “bulb” where the mouth should be. One was holding up a shirt and another wearing a baseball cap. They were even uglier than Monty.
One of held up an appendage at me. Was it saying hello? I didn’t care. They were tourists, just like the humans that used to visit before the earth was destroyed. They were going to move right on into my resort, lose all of my golf balls, clog my toilets, take all of my clean towels and trash their rooms. But worse than that, they were going to take their ship and leave me here. I couldn’t let them leave.
“You blinky bastards think you can stop me? That ship’s mine now. I’ve waited two decades to get off of this rock. Monty and I aren’t staying here anymore!”
“I’m Monty the Moon Man!” Monty piped up.
“drat right you are. And we’re getting out of here. “
“Please don’t swear.”
Dammit Monty, learn when to shut up. I kicked the Monty kiosk harder than I ever have. It tipped to the side, crashing into a vending machine. The vending machine wobbled and fell forward, squishing one of the aliens into a pile of goo. Maybe Monty was a better fighter than I thought.
The other alien didn’t like this. It tried to throw a thermos at me, but I still had my golf club. I swatted the thermos out of the air and buried the club in the alien’s eye. It thrashed for a while before slipping in its friend’s remains and fell to the ground.
“I’m Monty the Moon Man and I approve this message!” Monty said from his fallen kiosk. “And I say: Kill it!”
The first thing he’s said in twenty years that makes sense.
|# ¿ Sep 2, 2012 02:58|
I had to step away last week due to real life issues, but from that I've learned that when the Lord Humongous says just walk away, he won't let you escape easily. So I'm back in for this.
|# ¿ Sep 11, 2012 00:03|
Yes, 3) is the Nephilim. Everybody sucks and couldn't answer the first two. I'll reveal them tomorrow when I feel like it.
I think #1 was Atum, but I was too busy shoehorning bad mad max references into my post before to include it.
|# ¿ Sep 11, 2012 03:08|
|# ¿ May 22, 2022 11:17|
Unfortunately my internet is acting up, so I have to post what I have now rather than risk not posting anything. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to see if I won. And yes, I did a deal with a devil story because I’m an unimaginative hack. I expect no mercy from the judges, so I won’t ask for any.
Devil’s Bagman wordcount: 992
David was in a rush. The message had been clear: Meet his employer at the last house on the right. When David got a message from him, he knew better than to ignore it.
The neighborhood seemed well off, at least to an outsider. Huge mansions strung together, cramped on a tiny stretch of land once promised to the Natives before smallpox got rid of them. Maybe that’s why his employer was drawn here. Or maybe the current clientele.
David found the house, parked on the curb and walked across the grass to the front door. Before he could knock he heard a voice from within; “come in, David.” David tried the knob and the door swung open freely. It was pitch black inside.
“Come on in,” The voice beckoned.
“Turn a light on first.”
The voice laughed and a light came on. David braced himself, stepped in and closed the door behind him.
Inside David found his employer, Lucius Kypris. It wasn’t his true name, but was the one he chose for the time being. Lucius was a young man in a business suit, with a pointed goatee and slight sunburn. On the table next to him were a leather-bound book and a wine bottle. David always thought he looked underwhelming, until he remembered who he was.
“How can I help you, David?”
“You said you had a job for me.”
“Straight to business then. Take a seat.” Lucius gestured. “I was reviewing our contract, David. It seems you and I have only one assignment left before you’re free.”
“And I imagine you’re quite keen to end our arrangement.”
“You have no idea.”
“I thought we were friends.” Lucius said, looking him in the eye. David felt his heart skip a beat. Lucius smiled again. “Oh, lighten up. I won’t break our contract, just bend it a little.” Lucius motioned to the bottle next to him. “Care for a drink?”
“Pomegranate, right? No thank you.”
Lucius shook his head “I can’t have any fun with you, can I?” David didn’t respond. “Fine then. Not far from here is one of my clients, a Lillian Marid. She’s cost me quite a bit of business and I want her to know it. I want you to deliver a message to her.”
“Seems simple enough. What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch.” Lucius pulled an envelope from a pocket. “Here’s the address.”
“Why send me? This is our last job, seems too mundane.”
“I figured you’d be a good messenger.”
“No. I’m not your messenger.”
“Oops. Wrong word. Don't worry, you're not the messenger, that honor is reserved for someone else.”
“Good. So what do you want me to say to her?”
“Nothing unusual, just inform her of her error.”
David nodded and stood. He was making his way to the door as Lucius called out, “see you soon, David.”
Outside, David could relax. He opened the envelope and read the address, only a few houses away. He walked the short distance to her house and rang the bell. This was it; he was almost free.
“Who is it?” A woman- must have been Lillian- called out.
“I need to speak with you.” David answered back. “It’s about a business arrangement you made recently.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before the door opened. Lillian let him in and led him to a waiting room. He didn’t bother sitting down.
“What brings you here?” She asked.
“I’m afraid a former business contact has a grievance.”
“I think you know who.” Her eyes went wide.
“Tell Lucius I never intended to intrude on his business.”
“That’s not my concern. I’m just here to relay a message.”
”No!” She said, barring his exit. “Please, tell him I can make amends.” This was getting bad. The desperate ones always tried something crazy.
“Not my problem. I need to leave.” David pushed past her. He heard the hammer of a revolver click.
“I can’t let you leave.”
“That’s only going to make things worse.”
He started to run, but only made it three feet before the bullet tore through his back.
When David woke up, he was laying in a pool of blood. He rose and checked for a bullet wound, but found nothing.
“Oh, you’re awake.” Lucius was there. David stood and turned to see him standing over Lillian’s body.
“She put up a fight, but you know how that usually turns out. Oh, you might want to look away.”
David closed his eyes. This was never a pretty sight. There was a wet, pulpy sound, then the snapping of a briefcase. David opened his eyes again and saw Lucius closing the brief case.
“What just happened?” David asked. He didn’t really want to know, but he had to.
“Lillian came to me a few years back, wanting the usual; endless life, beauty and riches. One of my few stipulations was that she never interfered with me or my other clients. Of course, when you lose something, you try to gain it back, so she interfered. Took a bright little socialite that would have been a future client of mine- a big client. So I sent you in.”
“You knew this would happen?”
“Of course! I haven’t been caught off guard in ages. Anyways, she killed you and broke the deal.”
“I… I died?”
“Yes, but I caught you in time. You’re welcome.”
“Wait a minute…”
“Sorry, David, but our contract ended when you delivered the message. Bringing you back wasn’t easy. It would only be fair for you to owe me something in kind.”
“But I didn’t want you to…” David knew it was hopeless. Once you’re in with Lucius, there was no getting out.
“Being the Devil’s bagman doesn’t give you a ticket to the other side, David, not the side you would want.” Lucius said, sitting on a sofa. “So, care to discuss a new contract?”
|# ¿ Sep 11, 2012 22:08|