Short Shocks 2

by Andy Love

  “This really has to be the worst night of my life. I don’t want to see another of its like, ever again.”

  The black mist crawled close to his and undulated by his side. Although the guard trusted Bodach and Caillech, his senses screamed in disagreement as his body tingled with consternation. He didn’t notice the signs of irritation his body emitted, to warn him of the fearful reality, which manipulated his aura.

  He faced the mist with palms raised to the sky. “What on earth was that?”

  “An omen of that to come. A warning, take no heed. We are here. Fear not, Hector.”

  He shook his head as he stepped outside and locked the door.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Two vagabonds jumped out from a recess in the West warehouse wall. Hector stepped toward them, patted his baton in the palm of his free hand, and smiled with bravado.

  “Really, lads. You should’ve brought more help. Let’s get started then.”

  He heard a footstep behind him, but too late as another criminal coshed his head. As he lay on the ground, the rest of the gang attacked with a torrent of kicks. His body flinched as blood ran over his eyes, and the taste of copper permeated his mouth.

  The mist crawled in from all sides of the crates and rose above the rabble. The black cloud drenched the gang in a torrential rain of thick redness.

  They screamed with terror in their red-soaked clothes. The crimson rain stopped and the misty cloud turned an intense black as its density thickened.

  The guard stared in awe.

  It descended on the gang and engulfed them down to their waists. The force dragged the men backward, their legs unable to keep pace.

  The howls from the men froze the guard’s skin, as he lay on the ground, unable to move. He wished freedom from this massacre, to have pity for these victims, but they would have beaten him to death.

  The black mist seeped into the vagabonds. Their rippling bodies emanated a red glow as the mist arose from the ground. The guard took a sharp intake of breath and tried to stand, but fell to the ground again. He rose slowly after a rest, used his hands to wipe the dirt from his clothes and straighten his garb.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Hector searched the spent bodies left by the caustic mist, and acquired their valuables. One of the vagabonds groaned and moved slowly as he regained consciousness. Bodach jumped into the reprobate and restrained his movements.

  The guard fastened handcuffs onto the man, as Bodach rushed the criminal’s body. Hector couldn’t move out the way quick enough as it passed into him. He couldn’t move as his vision filled with ancient, and terrifying memories from the mist. It left his body and enlightened the human’s experience.

  “We come from a hidden world, not venerated now by humans. We seek solace by reprisal. Our stones must be returned.”

  The guard’s morbid curiosity urged him to touch its substance. His fingers tickled with static as pliability drained his hand, and horrific images bombarded him again. He withdrew his hand, and staggered at the great battles.

  “We were commanded with dark magic, to assist cruel rulers.” Bodach explained.

  Hector rubbed his fingers together, and examined the thick viscosity to the blackness. It reminded him of warm cream. His pity for the black shapes plight piqued. ‘I must do what I can to help them.’

  The clock tower tolled. He looked up and listened to another three tolls.

  “Tonight’s gone quick. It won’t be long ‘till daylight. Only a few hours now.”

  ‘I can forget all this, and get back to a normal life.’

  Bodach thought in urgency to Caillech. ‘Our time will end soon. We need a pretence of reward, before darkness spoils.’

  “Hector, leave now this place. Elizabeth is in danger; we must aide with haste.”

  “Why would I want to help Liz? After the night I’ve had, why would I care about her?”

  “We need to see compassion for life, lest your treasure be withdrawn.”

  He nodded with grudged agreement. The guard locked the massive wrought iron gates of the dock, and walked home with rancour on his mind.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The Guard sauntered past vennels, closes and wynds on his path home. With the exception of men who participated and woman who earned, the streets were devoid of bustle, and a creepy silence instilled caution.

  Veiled in a darkened crevice, a prostitute murmured promises. “Want a good time, Sir.” as the guard approached.

  The glow from his lamp danced over her wares, and he watched with interest as she rippled her service.

  “You been in the wars, dear?” She enquired about the three gashes on Hector’s face. “What are you all in a rush for, Mister?” The whore leaned forward. “You need to be careful out here at night, there’s bad things lurk in the dark, Sir.”

  “I don’t scare too easy, hen.” He pointed to the whore’s chest, “You shouldn’t be out on the street. There’s a lot of murderers around here.”

  The woman shifted her weight onto the other foot. “Huh, there’s worse things on these streets than murderers.” She leaned closer to him and whispered.

  “It’s the ones you can see straight through who worry me. There seems to be more every year. It’s like…like they get more, as we die younger. What do you think of that, then? Too many ghosts these days.”

  “There’s not much to think about, really, hen. You don’t half talk a load of shite.”

  Hector reined his churlish behaviour. The whore pressed her body against his, her leg against his, and moved a seductive hand over the front of his trousers.

  “Business is slow tonight, Mister. I could do you a quickie for cheap?”

  “I’m a married man.”

  “Ha, you won’t be the first, or last.”

  The heavy coat concealed his pleasure as his lips grinned. He looked down at her sway of white cleavage and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “Come on, Sir. No one will ever know. I’m sure you can afford a little fun.”

  He thought about the proposal for a few seconds. ‘It’s been a while, Liz would never know. She already accused me anyway. This wouldn’t be love though, just some dirty, false sex. She does look good enough to eat.’

  The guard pushed the woman away from his body, but the urge still bulged beneath. “I’ve got a home to go to, you should do the same.” He preached.

  “I can’t go home, Honey. I need the money.”

  He looked at the whore and the flesh she tried to sell. “Work is slow, what with the filth that’s going around. You needn’t worry, ‘cause I’m a clean girl. You ask any man.” The woman laughed with intermittent snorts. Hector continued on his way home.

  She hid her body in the darkness again. Her shrill voice bounced off the close quartered walls of the tenements. “I don’t do that kind of service ya dirty old git!”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  When Hector neared his home, he saw a young man tend a horse on Rotten Row. ‘His clothes are a bit odd; they’re not of a merchant, and not at this hour of the morning.’ His eyebrows raised in realisation. ‘It’s the cobbler I punched last night. Why’s he here?’ He questioned that which he already knew the answer to.

  A rage of jealousy built in Hector as darkness rushed behind him, and distracted his stare. The black mist eased between vennels and wynds as they followed him home. They veiled in a dark corner of his house, and await a host.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The tired guard entered his building, his footsteps echoed round the stairway as he climbed the steps. He opened the door to his house, and walked past a filled carpetbag on the floor. Liz followed his every move, until he stopped beside the window chair. He stared at the bag, his fists clenched as fury and jealousy surfaced.

  Bodach eased into the guard’s body, and turned his face dark red. Hector rushed his wife, grabbed the nape of her neck and dragged her into the bedroom. He threw her on to the bed and tore at her clothes, as his brown teeth salivated over her face. Caillech joined Bodac
h inside the man. It pushed hard, grunted and growled as a green mist of rancid breath crawled over Liz.

  She gagged and struggled against the monster, as she stared at its disfigured face. The beast became stony-grey in colour and cold to her touch. The monster screamed as its back arched with a crunch, and Caillech’s face protruded its head. Liz opened her eyes and mouth wide to scream, but fainted. The black mist created an egress from his body, which closed on exit.

  The guard staggered from the bedroom, and flopped into the chair by the window. Drained and confused, he listened to whispers from bedroom. His wife appeared with a confident smile. She moved to the window and lit the candle. Her aura exuded aplomb as she stood next to her husband. She stepped to the front door with satisfaction, that he recognised her renewed mettle, and said nothing.

  The shapes crept from the walls either side of Liz. The guard grinned and pointed at his wife. “You should have been faithful to me Liz, now you’ll pay with your life. My new friends have arrived.”

  She didn’t turn to see what he pointed at. “You mean Caillech and Bodach, the black mist that followed you here? I find them…useful. They told me everything you’ve done, and thought. Don’t you realise how mean and angry you are? You became greedy and selfish; not the man I used to love.”

  He raised his arms in feint defence of a nascent personality. “I wasn’t mean or cruel to you…it’s the nightshift all the bloody time that…”

  “It’s too late now, Hector.” Liz interrupted. “You should’ve talked to me; we could’ve worked it out.” She shook her head. “It’s too late for us.”

  The black mist dissolved into shadows at the edges of the room.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  A knock at the door echoed through the still and tense silence. Liz answered and welcomed a young man into their house.

  He walked to the guard, extended his right hand and introduced himself in a Northern Irish accent.

  “Billy’s da name, pleased ta meet ya.” He rubbed his chin and smiled. “Not a bad right hook you’ve got der, Hector.”

  The confused guard refused the salutation and hand from Billy. He stood up in a rage and glared at Billy. “What’s going on, Liz?” The Irishman stepped back toward the front door, behind Hector’s wife.

  “Hey, I’m only here doing ma civic duty. Jeez, I only want to help another body.”

  The guard pointed to the young man. “You, shut your gob. It’s your last warning.” He scanned Billy from head to toe with disgust. “I don’t care if you’re dressed in gentleman’s clothes; I know you’re not. I will set about you.”

  The Irishman held his hands up in surrender, took involuntary steps backward and bumped into the doorway. The black mist crept from the shadows and neared Hector. Liz and Billy were comfortably close, an intimacy bred over many nightshifts. The mist undulated, engulfed Hector and forced him back into the armchair. His body withered, eyes stared and his mouth gaped, as his mind thought its last, before death.

  ‘Where’s my treasure ’

  Billy experienced gruesome incidents in his nocturnal business, but his mouth dropped in awe. He focused on the black mist, which made the body pulsate in the chair. Unable to believe his own eyes, he faced Liz.

  Caillech broke from the black mass and partially solidified from Hector’s chest. Her voice ebbed in whispers and filled the room. “I give wisdom to release, that which is no longer needed. To spread seeds, of that yet to come. I stand at the cusp of life and death.”

  Liz and Billy looked at the hoary-faced corpse in the chair. Its eyes bulged and stared at the blackness outside. The light from the candle flickered on its pallid and wizened face. Its hair fell out as the eye sockets sunk. The clothes oversized the corpses frame.

  Billy backed away with apprehension, as the black mist crawled to Liz and settled.

  “You are now with seed. Feed it well, or we shall return.”

  The woman’s hand rested on her stomach while she spoke to her dead husband. “Goodbye Hector, now I’m happy.”

  She kissed the young Irishman. Both smiled at the husk in the chair as they walked out the door. The black mist dissolved into the blackness again.

  The room filled with stale air, still, devoid of life as a putrid smell drifted through the building.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Billy helped his prize on to the horse, before he climbed on and smirked.

  “I need ta stop off at a friend in Tanner’s Close. I hope you don’t mind, Liz.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Burke. I’m happy to be free and alive.” She squeezed her arms tight round the Irishman’s waist and grinned with satisfaction.

  The horse ambled through dark cobblestone streets, as its hoofs echoed in the distance.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Whose Choice?

  Amelia Featherstone stood on the railway platform in drab clothes and bonnet with frayed edges. The train and her were partially obscured by steam then with smoke, which swirled in the breeze.

  She squeezed her hand tightly around the one-way ticket, hesitant of her return to the parental home.

  ‘What if they uncover my sexual imprudence? Would they be ashamed of the life, which grew inside me and be shunned by society? They would descend stature in the eyes of village church elders.’ Amelia grew nauseous at the thought of those do-gooders; ‘Those dammed God-fearing folk who do no wrong, with their hypocritical faiths; two-faced liars, the lot of them.’

  To bear a child out of wedlock is for whores or courtesans. She would be regarded with less esteem than a mangy street dog. Would they give a roof over mother and baby’s head?

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Amelia’s long awaited train rumbled forward then screeched to a halt. Her transport to an alternative hell arrived, perhaps her future or death. Plumes of steam from the wheels gathered around and embraced her with damp smelly moisture. She forced herself onto the carriage; strolled through the corridor to her compartment, slid the door open and sat down. She looked out the window at the Station Master as he blew the whistle, to order a hiss and screech from the train.

  Amelia thought, maybe someone would come in, to sit with her. Anyone…someone to say all would be fine. Please speak, to realise her existence. The young woman sat alone, with foolish ideas to end the confusion and life’s’ of two souls. So very afraid, she cried inside, but held, restrained from the world.

  She thought of her life so far: the dead end it is, to purge her body from child, and unable to cope on her own. Amelia craved a carefree life, no burden. If a God or Devil created her predicament, they should decide her fate. She will test her perception, with little to lose.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Amelia pulled down the carriage window and eased her head through the aperture. She gasped, as the initial rush of air past her face, and sucked the breath from her lungs. If she survived any train which would pass then would continue to her parents, with hope they convince and help her live. If not, she would be oblivious to her sudden death.

  ‘I can’t believe God made this happen, to impose this strife on ones life; it must be the coldness of Michael. People say God has a wicked sense of humour; would it extend to a miserable life? Why would God encourage contemplation of suicide and reject the unborn.’

  The window’s handle pushed into Amelia’s swollen stomach; although, discomfort is not a concern.

  Which entity decides if someone loses a child? Does God in its wisdom, think the death; and it is so? Is it a thought of grand reason, which we couldn’t comprehend? Might the child develop into a slaughterer of humanity? If God were a woman, the child would live, no matter the deplorable acts the offspring inflicted on innocents. The devil must be at play.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The young woman’s concluded decision does not lay with any entity, but with her. She forms her life, how she wants it to be. Why should she believe in any deity who never helped her, or anyone she knows? To trust a being, which took anyone she loved, or loved her? Undesirables seem to live forever, j
ustice fails to equate with entities.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  A gush of wind and rumble sound hit Amelia’s head as she thought. ‘That’s it! I’ll go to my parents, my idols, my only saviours in this fetid world.’ She raised her hands onto the window, and flexed the muscles in her arms. A decisive thought occurred to her. ‘I will live my life, my baby and I will be happy. There’s plenty of time…’

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The grind of metal on metal suddenly roared on the other track. The wail of the steam whistle came in waves then unbearable as it screeched inside her head. Her body collapsed on the carriage floor. Blood spurted from arteries above the tied and torn remainder of ribbon from the absent bonnet.

  Amelia pulled her head in through the window and smiled.

  “Damn, that was close”

  She turned to see a headless corpse, which lay in a pool of blood. It was her body, her blood.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Many years she waited for the bright light to appear, or even for the ground to open its red sinner jaws and devour her. There was void. No good, no evil, just fifteen minutes of replayed indecision.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Dial A Demon

  Except for the huge granite buildings, which towered along the edge of pavements, the crossroads resembled any other. In an office on the third floor, Cindy Sinclair showed the new office boy, more of her body than she expected that night.

  Colin Crispen looked curiously at the buxom blonde and wondered why she worked late. Although new to the firm, he already weighed up the blonde’s personality, which his work mates confirmed.

  Cindy knew he needed to be there, but she needed someone to look at, or preferably repair her old Suzuki Jimny. It was an ideal vehicle to hold her stock, items she used as a part-time mobile hairdresser, and sometimes an unqualified beautician. To convince the young man is the only and easiest option, now they were alone in the office.