Under Purple Sheets

by Coco Houston

  I whisper, “EXACTLY!” Then I kiss him. He is so bewildered looking as I then take his hand and leave the graveyard. He follows but says nothing. My wolf whispers, "Good girl!"

  He wants to go home. I don’t. We walk back to the jeep hand in hand and I feel Brad is trembling. I am shaking too but not with fear. I decide I want to spend the night in the very famous hotel near the Auld Kirk. I have stayed there before, on my own, room one, I smile at the memory. For some reason I want to go back and stay there tonight. We drive back and stop at The Brig O Doon. I get out the car soaking wet, covered in blood. He wants to go home. I still don’t. This bridge is just as every bit as famous as the Auld Kirk, if not more. Brad keeps talking nervously, rubbish I am not interested in. Something is pulling me here tonight. I wish he would just shut the fuck up. He keeps talking as he explains he had fishing rights of the waters under here many moons ago. He tells me it was very expensive way back then but even more extortionate today. I walk to the bridge with Brad, listening but still not interested in what he had to say. I have managed to stem the flow of blood from my neck for now. There is a lot of atmosphere here, one of a kind of magic of people from long ago, with ghosts from yesteryears, yet as much as it feels ancient and eerie, it holds something very romantic about it too, I guess. But me, I don’t like it here, not particularly. Apart from the fact, as you already know, I don’t like deep water; I certainly won’t go near it or cross the bridge when wearing my witch’s robes. Just like in the poem, by Scottish poet Robert Burns, the witch called Nannie in the famous poem, she won’t cross the water either; she only goes so far whilst chasing Tam o’ Shanter on his horse called Meg towards the brig, Tam just gets away and Meg is left with no tail as nannie pulls it off, all this happens just because he shouted, “Well done, Cutty Sark!” at her as he watched her dance to the Devil Auld Nick playing the pipes while the all the other witches and warlords did the same in a reel of the dance in the that Auld Kirk Graveyard where I had wanted to cast my spell. I had wanted to dance there too, so my wolf could shout out at me “Well done Coco!” just as was shouted at that witch in that poem long, long ago. I pull Brad backwards with the arm, now it is my turn to say, “Let’s go!” We walk away from the bridge. I hold Brad’s hand as we both hurry back to the jeep, very cold, very wet, covered in blood. I really wanted to spend the night in the hotel, I feel I belong in that place, like I am coming home. Look at the state I am in, how can I walk over to the hotel reception to book a room? Besides it so late. I walk back over to the Auld Kirk and just walk about the graveyard on my own thinking of the past. I think I have been here in a past life. As a child, I once took part in a film being made out here. As I wander wondering in witches’ gowns, contemplating if I could have possibly been here in a previous life, Brad stays in the car. Eventually with a bewildering peace within I go back to the jeep. As I sit down on the car seat, I remember that I have no pants on or the black lace bra as it had been left behind in the old graveyard on the old tombstone, with the tampon still lying where it was flung on the ground as a gift for St Lucifer himself.

  Later back home, I perform more sex rituals. I tie him tightly, blindfolded; I just like the fact that his world is in total darkness, I guess. I feel power over him now because that is what he does to me on so many occasions, puts my world into darkness, now ditto – his fucking turn. I feed him horrible foods, unusual foods which he had to guess the flavour of, which he can’t because he has never eaten them before. He won’t recognise the taste, flavour or texture or smell.

  So just like the sex game we play with the jellybeans and other pleasant foods, i.e. melting chocolate, whipped cream, if he loses on answering the wrong flavour or food, he has to perform a sexual forfeit of my choice. On playing this game, particularly tonight, he is losing each round, giving a wrong answer every time as he tries to guess what each piece of food is; my plan is working to my advantage as I had predicted, fuck him. His forfeit is – I command him to lick me, demand him to give me oral sex whilst I am bleeding, disgusting as it is. I don’t care, he will take his punishment or he can stay fucking tied up all night – because believe me, he will pay back. I shall leave him there bound in the cold dark room for hours without a second thought. After the game, this is exactly what I do, walk away leaving him tied up whilst still blindfolded in the dark for almost four hours. I go downstairs not giving a toss and sit drinking homemade witches’ wine. My rituals and sexual routines are becoming more and more extreme, I realise, I have cursed him in White Magic binding him to love me, also again in a candle spell cast in the woods just to make him want me and only me, then cast a spell on him, too far it came about that he misses me and feels that he can never be without me. All of it worked on him. Since then though I have cursed him twice also in Black Magic. What the fuck is it I want? Seriously! I just don’t know as further and further I spiral downwards, my wolf is becoming such an important part of me as quickly as my descent into darkness.

  Chapter X

  You Left Me Behind

  1st November

  The month arrives with the weather as bleak as my mood. I hate everything. I hate everybody on thinking back to Halloween I can’t believe what I almost did on heritage ground at the Auld Kirk. I mean no disrespect to the people of Scotland or to the memory of the famous poet Robert burns. I silently apologise to all. I guess it is just another part of my chosen decline towards the darkness. I can pretend it is not, but I am only hiding from myself. I am just numb with shame at the thought of my performance on considering it, yet I nearly did go through with the satanic ritual there all the same. I hate myself. I hate the world. I don’t have time for anything or anybody. I only want to be with my little dogs; I wish the rest of the world would just disappear. I feel shivery ill after being so cold and getting soaking wet by the rain last night. The paper stiches on the wound on my neck are annoying me. It had to be cleaned then dressed in the early hours of the morning as on this occasion it would not stop bleeding. I had very little sleep, which was making my foul temper worse. My head hurts and I just want to curl up in bed, you know in a Fuck off all of you day. I want to be left home alone.

  6th November

  By this first week in November, the fights between us had stopped again, but for how long? I ask myself. No more sex had taken place since the night at the graveyard; I don’t want him near me. I think he feels very much the same way about me after all that blood. He says he was really scared of me when I was behaving like that. Fuck him! Still he was meant to be scared, otherwise what would have been the point of it all? The spell was important, yes. The spell using blood was the essence of the night. It had been used to bind us together; of course, with the hot sex including the pleasure I sickly took out of his fear added bonuses, it worked well enough, for me anyway. I had achieved the result that I had strived for, so why should I care about what Brad Blake had thought? Nobody really would care, certainly not me. Fuck me paying homage to him. I am getting stronger each day. I am a witch, don’t push me. Knocking me down is the easy part but keeping me there, trust me, it will take more than you Blake. Especially now as I prepare another spell, perfect for matting. As you think, so shall you become. So mote be it!

  7th November

  The wolf in my head talks to me too much today. I try to shut him out by going to sleep for a while. It doesn’t work though, because as I close my eyes in the silence of my bedroom, it still goes on and on. I could scream for the want of peace. Then the voices of my other friends in my head join in, talking to me along with and over him. Non-stop chitter chatter goes on all day long. I wish they would all just fuck up, even just for one hour, but it is so obvious to me that they won’t. I reach for some Diazepam as it might help me to relax a little for now anyway. I undo the top of a spare bottle that I had hidden away in case of emergencies like today. I put four of them in my mouth, flinging in another two for luck before swallowing them, then I spit them back just as I did once before. This time though, I really do want to take
them, besides that reason the wolf is also clarifying to me that I really do need them; in fact, tonight he orders me to take them. I defy him. I don’t mostly because for some reason yet again I just can’t seem to get them over my throat.

  The consequences which follow that action of not taking them is well, just as the wolf had predicted, I don’t get any sleep at all, with my mood blackening even further. I try to write my book, being honest and truthful in its contents, but it is hopeless today, I am not concentrating at all as too much noise is going on inside my head. I shut the manuscript for now, thinking that in total reality of our everyday lives, we all hide a lot from the outside world, hide the truth about our relationships as well as about ourselves; we find it easier that way, don’t you think? Like I do with that bastard Blake. I don’t trust his words, I even question most of his actions, but I never ever doubt his patterns. Nobody knows you like you know you! That is the last memory of today I have, which is asking myself questions to which every time I have a different answer. I look at me, trying to see myself as others would see me; then again everybody would have a different answer.

  9th November

  This morning VERSACE died.

  Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies,

  Be it mankind or animal form.

  Aristotle.

  Four am I wake up feeling cold. I go downstairs to put the heating on; glancing towards the window on the way; I noticed it is all icy; it must be starting to freeze outside. On checking my little dogs, I find them all sleeping together happily in the basket, snuggled nice and cosy under their blankets. Tired and cold, I run back up to my bed, knowing the house would now heat up quickly, yet hoping the frost would last – it makes everything sparkle as if covered in glitter. Makes a grey day look pretty.

  Eight am I wake up again, my instincts are telling me that something wasn’t right. I get up out of bed, immediately heading straight down the stairs, stopping in my tracks as I hear an unusual noise. Looking downwards towards my feet, I find little Versace lying out of the basket on the hall carpet and he is not breathing properly. His little chest cavity is going in and out very deeply, with his breathing heavily laboured. I gently lift him up, taking him outside for some fresh air. He is very weak with his little legs giving way under him as I hold him up, and there is no way he can possibly stand up on his own on the grass. I know instantly that my worst fears have been confirmed. I know that I needed to get Versace to a vet immediately as he is showing signs of going into heart failure. I speak to a vet on call, who informs me of the expense of the treatment. I don’t care about the financial cost, I tell her, emphasising that I would bring Versace there to her as soon as possible as she couldn’t come to me as she was the only vet there. Fuck sake! The vet also advises me that if I don’t, then potentially Versace can die at home, suffering. I know this that is why I was pleading her to come, send somebody, another vet. That is horrific and I would never have allowed that to happen, under no circumstances. I put Versace back down beside his little friends as I run up and down the stairs whilst trying to pull on clothes, check on Versace at the same time try phoning Brad on his mobile. Eventually, I get through to Brad, who at this point is in the supermarket after a night shift buying Versace his favourite chicken for dinner. My heart is breaking. I tell Brad that he should leave the chicken and come here straightaway as Versace is seriously ill. I stay calm. Did I fuck! This is fucking surreal and I just can’t believe this is happening. I can’t accept it; I am so scared yet so focused on getting Versace to the vet. I am terrified that I would run out of time as he is already struggling. I am not that much aware of myself; I feel I am out of my own body, like I am just watching all this going on in my surroundings from a distance but it is not really happening to me. I am trying to focus through the mist in my head as I keep on repeating myself, saying one word over and over: VERSACE!VERSACE! VERSACE! Whilst begging with The Horned God, to please not let him die.

  Brad enters the house through the back door as I come out of my lounge holding the soft fleece cream and fawn blanket that Brad had bought me a long time ago. This is (my comfort blanket, I call it my sooky blanket) I took it everywhere with me when Brad left me to go to Canada. This is the same blanket Versace, along with my other little dogs, sat on with me for hours upon hours, their company comforting me as I cried for days on end, cuddling the blanket along with them. I wrap Versace up in the blanket. His little head is peeking out of the end of it as he looks down at Rio and Solo while they look up at him. It is so sad; I feel they know that something is terribly wrong. Only for a split second I consider kneeling down to them, to the level of the basket so little Versace can say his goodbyes. I don’t. Unknown to me then, I make the wrong decision, holding so much regret, which I would have to learn to live with for the rest of my life. Hurriedly, I just turn away with Versace leaving the hall, walking towards the door, saying to Rio and Solo, “Mummy won’t be long!” as they sit quietly watching us from behind.

  Brad is still in the kitchen, it is then that I notice that Brad had left a bag on the kitchen table, it held the dinner that he had already bought for Versace, the chicken that the wee soul would never eat, and I am broken inside at the thought. I watch Brad looking at the bag, perhaps thinking the same as he picks up his car keys then just stands staring at Versace in the blanket as he plays nervously with the car keys as I walk out the door. Brad follows me.

  I know deep down as I carry him out of his home that this is the very last time he would be here with me alive, I know that I am losing him fast. Going on through his garden, I realise with a deep sadness that he would never play there again, running through the trees. I carry him on out of the gate, knowing he wouldn’t be coming back home through it with me not today, not ever. My heart is breaking; I am like a zombie as I get in the jeep. I note, angry with myself, that Versace had never been in this fucking new jeep and now that he is, I think ashamed; it is because he is dying. I cuddle him to me, holding him tight in the blanket as I rub his little back; he relaxes enjoying the attention, it is calming him down as he listens to my voice while I talk away. I tell him I love him so much and I thank him indefinitely for all the love he has ever given me. He looks up at me with big sad eyes as I wonder how much he really does understand. He is so weak now and frustratingly I am so desperate to get him help. We get lost as roads are all closed. FUCK! The Sat Nav is taking us in circles due to road works; I am so stressed out, screaming at the workmen and at the stupid bitches’ voice on the Sat Nav. I begin to panic as the realisation of what is happening started seeping through the numbness I am feeling. I need to get to the vet urgently. I am screaming, crying out the jeep window and begging people on the street for directions to the veterinary practise.

  We eventually reach the place; my tears are flowing down my face as Brad hurriedly parks up then gets out the car. I talked on to Versace as Brad comes around to my side of the jeep to open the door for me. I whisper to Versace, “Mummy loves you so much, you’re Mummy’s world, baby; I am so sorry, Versace. I will miss and love you still every single day, thank you so much for showing me, for teaching me what love really is. Goodnight and goodbye, Versace darling, you will always, always be Mummy’s wee boy.” I get out of the car carrying Versace so delicately in his blanket; I can hardly walk up the steps at the front of the building. The vet and her nurse greet me; they are waiting at the door for Versace. The vet takes Versace as my legs give way. On entering a room little Versace is put on a table in his blanket. The vet touches my arm with sad eyes as Brad stands behind me crying; I bend down to kiss Versace’s little head, gently rubbing his tummy as the vet goes to get the injections. On her returning, I bend down again, this time kissing his little face, his breathing now I hear is a lot worse, I kiss his little mouth goodbye, whispering, “I love you.” He tiredly lifts up his little head as with his little hot tongue he licks me weakly for the very last time; I feel his little soft laboured warm breath on my face as he tries so hard to kiss
his mummy goodbye.

  I leave the room, going to sit nearby the door on cold hard stone steps. I cannot stay with Versace, cannot watch the vet put my baby to sleep forever. Holding my tummy, I lean forward on those concrete stairs towards the floor as I scream and scream out in pain, I am so distraught, making the most horrible noises that are coming from deep down within my throat, which echo hauntingly all through the old, cold grey building. Afterwards, after Versace is put to sleep in his little blanket, I go back in to see him. He is lying peacefully now, just as he always did when he was sleeping. I look directly at the vet then at the veterinary nurse (who knew Versace as a puppy, which I am glad of under the circumstances), I ask them to keep Versace in his little blanket because it had my smell on it, and we share it for a while now. I am stating clearly that it is very important to me for him to be kept wrapped in that blanket until his little body gets picked up by the pet crematorium. I hold him, cuddling him I gently kiss his wee head once more for the last time ever before I leave.

  Brad tells me he was fighting the injections, he tells me that they could hear me screaming and that he feels Versace was fighting it to get to Mummy, fighting to stay with me. I feel I am going to collapse, Brad is trying to help me and he has just actually made it a million times worse on me. Versace always ran to me when I was crying, always first to be with me when I was upset. Now he is gone. He even tried to get to me when his little life was at an end. I am dead inside. I just can’t believe that I am going home without him. He hated to be cold and he didn’t like to be left alone and as I leave him lying there in that soft blanket he is alone, will be cold, I feel that I have let him down. I want to wake him up. I just want him back. I cannot understand why after all these years with me he is gone. Just gone.