Ugly Things

by Mark Yarwood

  I look at the bed and see my friend, his chest flushed with sex and then I look at his new, or old friend, whatever they are to each other. I look at Maggie, as she looks proudly at her two male toys lying underneath her expensive sheets. A magnifying camera lens would zoom way in on the bed and you would see twenty zillion, zillion atoms. And this is what they choose to do with that miracle of nature.

  I nod and grin at Maggie. ‘Do you like to record your little sex sessions?’ I ask.

  The old movie star makes a great performance out of turning round, her right hand flourishing through the air. She opens a small cabinet near the bed and shows me a recording device with microphones connected to it.

  I came to this town because I wanted to be me again. I wanted to look in the mirror and see my perfect face, but it always costs something. Nothing is worth this.

  I would make a stick of rock for Maggie, if I could. It would say: Go to hell you ugly old bitch.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  I open my mouth to speak the words, but then the door flies open and two large men burst into the room. They look like Billy’s kind of people. When they see Kevin and I, they run towards us and grab both our arms.

  ‘You two have got to go sailing,’ one heavy says and gets me in a headlock. With my eyes bulging, I see Kevin being grabbed by the other heavy, his arms struggling, his face full of the kind of confusion that I haven’t seen for so long it’s almost a pleasure to witness it.

  And Maggie, you gorgeous film star, lying on your bed of sins, you just lie there smiling, watching us being taken to our doom. She waves like she’s royalty, and, right then, she is the queen of all that stinks. The queen of crap art that’s sold for millions. Picture two dead bodies on a boat instead of one. Two men obsessed with trying to kill her.

  ‘Goodbye boys,’ she says and waves her hand, and then in a moment of pure craziness, she leaps across the room and hugs me. She kisses my face all over and then steps away, looking at us, almost with a tear in her eye.

  ‘Maggie, tell them to let me go,’ Kevin says, trying to grip the carpet with his feet. The heavy, fed up of his whining, punches Kevin in the face and stuns him into silence.

  ‘They’re Billy’s men,’ Maggie says sadly. ‘They do as he ordered before he died. I’m sorry boys.’

  They put Kevin across my lap in the back of the car, his head facing up at me, his eyes closed. He looks peaceful and you wouldn’t believe he was capable of murder. I should hate him for what’s he’s taken from me, but I pity him instead. I pull some hair from his face and smile a little. My death is coming and now I don’t care. I’m coming Janet, I say to myself, and turn towards the road and the trees flashing by.

  They drag us from the car and push us towards the boat. A gun comes from somewhere and is poked in our faces until we stand on the deck, listening to the water lapping against the hull. One heavy pushes us from the dock, while the other starts the engine. My ears are filled with the roar of it, and through the darkness I can see the glistening lights of Maggie’s house so far away now. It’s like she’s having one of her parties, with people in every room. How I wished they were all there now, all the TV stars, and celebrity chefs, and footballers. I want them all to burn.

  I find myself being handcuffed along with Kevin to a railing on the boat, while one heavy steers us towards the lights of the house, water spraying up in my face. I open my mouth and let out a shout that’s swallowed by the boat’s engine. Kevin’s eyes open and immediately he rattles the handcuffs. He looks at the handcuffs with confusion and rattles them more and more.

  ‘You are handcuffed to a boat, Kevin,’ I say. ‘You are going to die. And you deserve it.’

  ‘Mate, this isn’t what’s supposed to happen.’ Kevin gets up and looks towards the cliffs that are getting bigger and bigger, while the lights of the house beam out to us, calling us closer like the voices of the sirens. I look down into the black-green water and see my grave. I grit my teeth, watching both heavies putting on life jackets. Two orange squares move about before us, steering the boat and getting ready to leave this party early. They have to time it just right.

  ‘Mate, I don’t want to die,’ Kevin says and looks at me like he used to.

  ‘Nobody does, Kevin,’ I say to him and laugh.

  Forgive us for the awful things we’ve done, I whisper to myself. Forgive Billy for all the ugly, terrible things he’s done.

  The heavy who is steering says something to the other one, who just nods. He passes us and stands looking down into the water. With a leap, he jumps into the water. Kevin and I watch an orange square bob and fade into the night. The other heavy fixes something to the wheel that keeps it in place. He moves past us too, nods for a moment, and follows his friend into the water.

  ‘Oh God! Oh God!’ Kevin screams and falls to his knees, rattling the handcuffs. He doesn’t rattle them an odd number. He rattles them ten times. He has to or someone somewhere will die.

  But not me! Not me!

  I kneel down too, but feel something stab me in the leg. Twisting and lifting my leg, I manage to pull the object from my pocket. I look at the tiny key and smile. Then I laugh, watching Kevin look up at me.

  Maggie! The old bitch has set me free. I unlock my handcuffs and watch the hope fill Kevin’s eyes. He gets up and holds out his hands, a small child begging for food. I look him in the eyes and see a monster. Turning and facing the cliffs, I see we are seconds from impact. The key is in my hand, but with a quick flick of my wrist, it sails over my head and vanishes into the black water.

  I scramble around the boat and find a life- jacket and put it on. Kevin just watches me, opened mouthed, perhaps part of him believing I will save him any moment. I keep on moving past him, feeling the salt water spit up at my face. I fall into the icy blackness, my ears filling with howls. I watch the boat roaring towards the rocks. When I turn and swim away, I feel the icy waters bite into me.

  The explosion burns the early morning sky, lighting up my face as I bob up and down in the water. Shards of boat are hurled into the sky, flames dancing round the debris. The water rocks the burning embers long after the house starts to fall into the sea. I begin to swim away again, feeling the coldness of the water consume me.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  There’s a battle going on in my soul. Dark demons lay into each other, hammering away with fists made of black thoughts.

  I sat on the beach crying, watching the fire dance along the cliff, listening to steel and glass fall into the sea. It was satisfying to see her house destroyed, to know that Kevin was boiling down in the depths.

  No longer would I have to feel sorry for him, to watch him count how many times he opened and closed a door. No longer would I have to hold myself to my promise to be his friend, just because I laughed at him once. No longer would I have to look into his pathetic eyes and see a reflection of myself.

  Where do you go when you’ve no place to go? What do you seek out when you are dead, a ghost, walking through the night, not even being seen by the fire engines and police cars and ambulances that streak by you? You are in the shadows of the trees because that’s where you belong.

  All I wanted was to be handsome again. Is that such a great sin? Is that what God’s punishing me for?

  If I knew how to make sticks of rock, I’d make one for God and on it would be written: Thanks for nothing.

  Where do you go when you are dead? They say ghosts haunt the place where their soul belongs. I go back to my cottage and fall inside the door.

  I see the suitcases in the hall and look up to Maggie’s face as she sits nursing a cup of tea, all dressed for a long journey.

  She looks like someone’s mother. She’s cast aside the dresses that were far too young for her, and now she sits huddled in a blue jumper and jeans. She could be my mother.

  I sit down and laugh a little, just because that’s the only sound that falls from my mouth. I’m dead.

  ‘How do you feel Darling?’ Maggie asks
and smiles softly.

  What was it all about? I ask and begin to cry uncontrollably.

  She moves her chair next to mine and holds me as if I’m only a child that’s grazed their knee. She rocks me and suddenly I feel better. Maybe this is what Kevin felt.

  ‘Now we’ve got freedom and more money than we could ever spend,’ Maggie says, cradling my head. ‘It wasn’t about fame at all. Billy wanted me to be famous again, so did Janet. My daughter and I will go down in history for my films and our artwork. Now they will think that you and I are dead, along with Janet, Billy and Kevin, and that’s the way we’ll stay. We can go anywhere in the world now.’

  I look up into her face and see her smiling brightly. Something inside me is released, a tension that’s been crawling through me. ‘I can’t leave this town. My beard…’

  ‘I know all about your beard,’ she says and strokes my face. ‘When you’ve got as much money as we have, you can have water bottled and shipped to where ever you are.’

  So, everything has ended, including my life, but I didn’t like it that much anyway. I die a crazy stalker, a threatening note writer and psycho. I killed Maggie, Kevin, Billy and Janet, they say, just to tie up the ends nicely. A few people attend my funeral, including me. And of course, just to stick my fingers up at God, I arrive late.

  A car turns up and a large gentleman packs the suitcases in the boot. I watch Maggie climb in, the chauffer holding open the door for her. He stands there, the door still open, looking at me with a question.

  ‘Are you getting in, sir?’ he asks.

  Where do you go when you’re dead? When you’ve got nowhere to call home? Where do you go and be a ghost?

  You haunt the world.

  And, after all, I have to do something while I try to figure out how to destroy this beautiful film star by my side.

  ***

  About The Author

  Mark Yarwood has worked in animation, edited a small press magazine, written for television and the Plymouth Evening Herald. He was born in Enfield, North London and now lives in Plymouth, England. His books include Murderson, Spider Mouth, and Welcome To Killville, USA, which are all available on Amazon Kindle.

  His website is www.markyarwood.co.uk

  Murderson is also available from Amazon.com:

  London and the South West of England are the hunting ground of a serial killer. The brutal killer, nicknamed The Clock, hunts young men in their thirties, kills them and turns their bodies into macabre clock faces at each crime scene.

  Detective Chief Inspector Paul Webb, a tired middle aged policeman with a failed relationship still haunting him, investigates the series of murders with the help of Dr. Kirill Fedorov, a man who believes he can spot potential serial killer behaviour in children and cure it. Webb also persuades the now fully-grown Luke Wind, the only British boy that Dr. Fedorov cured and treated like a son, to help him find the killer. Fedorov convinces Luke that he should still be able to understand a serial killer’s mind, but when Luke looks into himself he begins to doubt that he has been cured after all, especially when the killings begin to look personal.