Fiona

by D Attrill

  She brought her eyes down to Garstone, repeating it again

  “The lips that cannae stay together, are the ones that must be silenced forever!”

  “Aye, heard you the first time, pet.”

  She kicked Garstone hard again, repeating it - it sounded more to drown out his groans than get her message across. The kicks began to go in time with her chant.

  “The lips that cannae stay together, are the ones that must be silenced forever!” she lifted his head back up by his blood-soaked blond hair “The lips that cannae stay together, are the ones that must be silenced forever! The lips that cannae stay together, are the ones that must be silenced forever!” It grew rhythmically louder , also faster. “ THE LIPS THAT CANNAE STAY TOGETHER, ARE THE ONES THAT MUST BE SILENCED FOREVER! THE LIPS THAT CANNAE STAY TOGETHER, ARE THE ONES THAT MUST BE SILENCED FOREVER! THE LIPS THAT CAN’T STAY TOGeeeeaaaaggggrrhhhhh!!!”

  Fiona was suddenly lifted right away from off Garstone.

  She appeared again, upside down, one leg in Leroy Armitage’s grip as he glided back across on his hook.

  Getting back up to his hands and knees, Garstone watched as his friend carried his enemy away, dangling her over the deep urban chasm below. “Hurry it up, will thee? Her knickers bloody stink.” Armitage shouted to the audible amusement of officers below, as he was fighting to grab her other leg.

  Fiona could be heard shouting countless Scottish expletives as she was lowered down to the pavement.

  Garstone continued, crawling on his knees, until he came to the other roof. The puddles from falling were starting to discolour with his own blood. Climbing to his feet, he tried to reach his right hand out to the steps nearby but still struggled to stand.

  Darkening blood stuck his shirt to his skin; he could feel it tingle as it ran down from his lip.

  He felt the red coming up once more as he coughed.

  As he tried once more to heave himself onto the ladder, he felt a hand engaging round his shoulder.

  He let it lift him up until he could carry himself over the ledge, four feet above him.

  “My goodness.” Leyton exclaimed as she eased Garstone onto the top “If I’d got here another two seconds later, you’d have been her new number six.”

  Garstone heard but was in too much pain to humour.

  He saw two people running across to him.

  One was Amy Stannings, the other was somebody holding a huge, white covered bundle…one that seemed to be crying.

  Climbing to his feet with Leyton’s aid, he recognised her other friend.

  “Becky…” he staggered towards her. “We told you to wait down in the bar.”

  “I honestly don’t know what all the fuss is about.” Becky seemed bemused “I only went to the toilet.”

  THE END

  Also available by author.

  (Writing as Dave Attrill)

  PLAYGROUND (2011)

  Detectives Leyton and Garstone find themselves up against a scarily surreal cases as corpses start appearing, on local playground swings.

  With only a disturbed local and a lonely mechanic’s word to go on, Leyton also has to get round her corrupt superior, Superintendent Hargreaves, to solve the terrifying truth as the deaths continue to mount.

  BATTENBERG AND BRAIN DAMAGE (2013)

  A small collection of poems and prose, written across 2010-2013, covering personal, observational and comedy topics by the author.

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