Friday, 28 October 2016

Dark Fairy part 3

“I am tired of this discussion. I will make it simple for you. You go in and kill the woman and I will bring you back to your Gramps. You refuse, I leave and you can find your own way back.” She said crossing her arms over her chest.

“You expect me to break into a house that has a security system, kill a woman without any planning or weapons, and be able to get away with it?”

“I can fly you out of here before the authorities arrive.” She said smirking. “After you do your work.”

“How do you know if she is even home?”

“Fine. Lets go look.” The fairy flew up and grabbed my hair that Gramps had always insisted I have shaved short. I preferred a few inches to style occasionally. She yanked me forward by those inches straight to the front door of the house. Then she let go, flew down, rang the doorbell, then flew straight up in the air.

A hall light came on. The woman approached the door. She called through the glass pane. “What do you want?”

“My car died. Is there someone here who can see if he can help me fix it?” I asked the first thing that came to mind.

“No. My husband doesn’t know anything about cars.” She said dismissively.

“Can I use your phone?”

“Don’t you have a cell phone?”

“It fell in a puddle.”


“It wasn’t a waterproof model.”

“Fine.” She sighed. “Wait there.” She walked away back into the house.

“Fairy, if you want me to kill her is still need a weapon.” I whispered desperately.

“You have two hands.” She called from above.

“Seriously?” I hissed looking up at her.

She just grinned.

The door opened a few inches. Just enough for the blond to slip the cordless phone out. There had been no rattle of a chain and no links were visible. 

I took a step forward and felt a push from behind. I fell into the door. It flew open. The woman fell onto the floor. The phone skittered away. “Kick her.” The fairy shrieked flying over the blonds blue eyes.

“Take whatever you want just please don’t hurt me.” She whined.

“The fairy demands your death.” I said.

“It’s that old mans own fault. I am just the agent the bank has selling his house.”

“His wife died because of you putting them out of their home.” The fairy sliced the woman’s right cheek with four small lines.

“They took out a mortgage they couldn’t afford. It’s not my fault.” The woman said angrily.

“Did you help them?” I asked softly.

“Why should I have?” She demanded.

“To save yourself.” I said before kicking her. I kicked her first in the abdomen. Then when she curled I kicked her in the head. Twice. She stopped making any noise.

Evan leaned down and looked closely at the woman’s face. One of the kicks had smashed in her nose. Evan felt for a pulse. Nothing. Her nasal bone must have gone into her brain. Evan looked up at the fairy. “Take me back to Gramps.”

“Of course, my pet.” She said smiling.

Friday, 21 October 2016

A Laughing Matter Part 2

Now, he thinks as he reaches for the greasepaint, he’s just going to kill them. Seeing the blood on his hand Earl remembers the first step. He washed the blood from his hands and quickly washed his face as well. Forgoing the wedge he used his pointer and middle fingers. The gold wedding band flashed as he began edging at his high hairline. It had been years since he had applied the white. It was as if his fingers had never forgotten.

With his thumb he smoothed the white greasepaint over his eyebrows and around his eyes. Violet eyes, Earl thought, to match the violence in my eyes. Red for blood might put too much red on my face with red lips. Earl debated while using his pinkie to get into the crevices of his nose.

His lips, blue from cold and lack of oxygen, seemed the proper color as covered them with the white to complete the foundation.

Next I sprinkled a small pile of Clown White Face Powder on the center of its puff. I folded the puff and rubbed the sides together thinking of having Zamirs throat under his fingers instead. Taking a deep breath Earl lightly powdered his face.

While the facial foundation set Earl pulled brushes, a primary palate including black, and a mixing palate from a shelf in the medicine cabinet. As an afterthought he pulled out a box of gauze and applied a pad to the back of his head. The pad came away with dried blood. He rinsed the gauze pad and swiped at the wound again. After a minute of rinsing and swiping the gauze finally stopped coming away dirty.

He takes a large glob of the blue and put it in the mixing palate. Then added a tiny bit of red. Mixing the two thoroughly creates a very blue blue-violet color. Taking a lip brush Earl painted the mixture on his lips coming out with a color that nearly matched that below the white.

Adding now a glob of red to the remainder of the previous mix and mixing obtained a red-violet color. Earl traced out a long triangle below his right eye and a vertical diamond around the left. Then carefully with speckling as to not lighten the color, he filled in the outlines.

Using translucent powder Earl set the design. Then he put a glob of black into the mixing palate. With a thin tipped brush he drew carets over his eyes. Then Earl traced a permanent frown with the black at the edge of his blue lips.

One last layer of translucent powder. Then he went out into the kitchen. Next to the stove he never learned to use was a butcher block of knives that had been a wedding present. Earl pulled out the large carving knife. It would be perfect.

He pulled out the long knife next to it too. It was the bread knife. The serrated blade couldn’t stab but it would slice beautifully. One knife for each hand. One knife for each method of attack, carving to stab and serrated to slash.

Earl knew where Max lived. It wasn’t a far walk. He did not know where Zamir lived but he would be next when he came to the club tonight. First Max, who refused to do anything to help him when Earl needed him. Stepping out on the downed door Earl went to begin his new career.

Thursday, 13 October 2016

Part 1

Every night as soon as the sun set, my mother went through the same routine. Check the three locks on our apartment door, which were always engaged unless the door was opened.

Then the windows. We were on the third floor but as soon as the sun set all windows need to be closed and latched. During the day the windows could be open but never at night.

Then the salt that we just have to vacuum up in the morning. Mother puts a line of salt on all the window ledges and across the latches. In front of the sliding glass door in the kitchen before closing the heavy black curtain with silver crosses. A line of salt behind the front door then along the doorways as we go to our room.

When I was little my mother and I shared her queen sized bed. For my tenth birthday I asked for my own bedroom. I went to school and when I came home there was a full size bed in the corner of our room for me. Now with two dressers, a full size bed, a queen size bed, and two doors that open into the bedroom there is barely any room to walk. The closet door gets a line of salt too. Then the matching curtain is closed over the bedroom window. When we climb into our beds my mother turns her bedside lamp down to its lowest setting. The room is still fully if dimly lit. The lights are left on all night in the kitchen and bathroom too.

I awoke in the middle of the night with stomach cramps. I got out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. I stepped carefully over the lines of salt so as not to disturb them. Once, when I was very young, I broke the line of salt leading into the bedroom when I went for a late night drink. My mother scolded me all day long and every night for a week.

I entered the bathroom and glanced at the tiny window which long ago my mother covered with stained glass stick on. During the day it made pretty geometric shapes on the floor. I lowered my pajama pants and they were soaked in blood. I sat down hard on the toilet. The pain jolted my brain. I had gotten my first monthly.  Not that a big deal.

I stripped off my pajama top and threw it into the hallway. Then I took the blood soaked pants and threw them into the shower. They made a wet sound when they landed and left a blood stain on the linoleum.  I needed to clean myself up first. I could feel the blood continuing to flow out of me.

I stepped into the shower and closed the curtain. Then I dragged down my blood-soaked panties, smearing blood down both of my legs. I turned on the shower and with the flexible hose sprayed down the bloodstained clothes as the water heated. The water was red as it ran down the drain. When steam began to rise I sprayed down my privates , causing another gush of red water.

Then I took the washcloth and the bar of soap and scrubbed. When the water began to cool again I used the bar of soap on my panties and pajama bottoms until the water ran clear.

I shut off the shower finally. Then I wrung out my pajama pants before flipping them over the shower curtain bar, making a wet slapping sound. Drops of water landed on the floor and the blood-stained toilet seat.

I pulled a pair of my mothers emergency black panties from the bottom left drawer under the sink. I stuck a thick pad in them and put them on. I put my panties on the shower curtain rod too. Then I scrubbed the floor with the washcloth.

I stood and started scrubbing the toilet seat when I heard a scraping sound outside on the bricks. Then a raspy, hissing voice called out “I smell blood. It smells like my blood. Where is my blood?”