Driving North

I held the steering wheel at the top with one hand.  My fingers tapping away to the music.  The station playing was one of the oldie stations you only get out in the middle of nowhere.  A station like this would never survive in the big old city.  With the hipsters and millennial’s taking over.  The music was disgusting, not like the old days where music was timeless.  Artists had to sing, none of this auto tune shit.  I turned the volume up on the music.  This song took me back to my teens.  Elvis.  “Don’t step on those blue swede shoes baby.”  I started to sing along.

Turning the volume down. I thought I had heard some kind of a stomping sound coming from the back.  I waited, leaving the volume down low to see if I’d hear that again.  Yup, there it is, I had to pull over.

Waiting until I found a safe spot on the side of the country road to pull over.  Bringing the car to a stop I reached over to my day bag that was packed with some clothing, some water, rope, a knife, oh and there it was.  I pulled out a small bottle and got a fresh needle from the package of four.  Sliding the needle through the membrane of the small vile I sucked up what I thought would be enough CC to put out a little lady and then I carefully put the vial back into a larger container and opened the door.

I smiled at passing cars and waved.  A nice man stopped to see if I needed assistance, which I didn’t.  Looking up and down the road I listened for the sound of car engines.  Once everything was quiet and the only sound was that of birds chirping, I popped the trunk.  Staring up at me was a wide-eyed woman.  Duct tape covering her mouth, she looked to be about twenty or so.  Her jeans dirty, shirt riding up as she struggled against the rope that had her hands tied behind her back.  She tried to talk to me through the duct tape, but I couldn’t make out a word she was saying.  “Don’t worry this won’t hurt a bit.  I can’t have you back here making all that kind of racket, now can I?”  I leaned down to put a needle in her neck, but she kept moving.  “You need to be still.  If I put this needle in and it snaps off, you will be in bad shape.”  I held her head down this time.  With some force, pushing it in to the rough carpet of my trunk.  The needle went in and I pressed down on the plunger.  It wasn’t long until her body became limp and she quieted down.  Gently I pulled the needle out and walked back to my door and sat down in the car.

Once everything had been put away, I put the needle back in my day bag and drove on up the road.  I flipped the radio station to a new channel.

“This just in.  The daughter of police chief Winston McGill has been abducted outside her college campus.  This video tape shows a red Honda pulling up beside her, the door opened she appears to have been pulled into the car.  If you see this vehicle report it to the authorities right away.”  I flipped the channel.

Down on the hood of the car the old Chrysler hood ornament caught the sun as it broke through the trees.  Up ahead I could see lights flashing, police had blocked the road.  There were a couple of cars ahead of me.  One of which was the old man who had asked if I needed help.  One by one the cars in front of me were waved through the roadblock.  I stopped beside the police officer who leaned down and looked around inside my car.

“Where you heading?”

“Heading up north to my cottage not far up the road.  I have some acreage and I’m going to spend a few days hunting.  Are you a hunter officer?”
“No I never got into it. My father loves it.  Well you have a good few days.”

“Thank you, you as well.”  I smiled and nodded and drove off slowly.

 

Flipping the radio back on I started to hum and looked at the road sign.  150 KM to Bonfield.

The End

Copyright F.C. Janes

The Twisted

“I have something I need to tell you.” Her eyes shifted nervously. She sat up in bed unaware that her breasts were exposed.

Hopping on one foot he looked at her as he pulled on his pant leg, partly distracted by her bare chest. “What’s that?”

Downstairs a door slams

“What do you need to tell me?” Flattening out his belt before locking it on to place with the clasp. Nervous panic starting to flood through his system.

“I’m pregnant.”

John’s head perked up and he dropped his shirt to the floor with one boot on and the other half way. “You’re what?”

“Pregnant…” Michelle said her eyes shifting to the bed sheets.

“Michelle! Where are you.” A yell came from downstairs. Footsteps could be heard coming up the old steps that creaked with the mans weight.

“Not the best timing Michelle.”

“Well I’m sorry.” She said pouting. “But I love you.”

John’s expression was less then thrilled at that. “Fuck.” He thought to himself “Just my fucking luck.”

“Michelle! Are you in your room?” A knock came to the door.

“Father I’m not dressed, please give me a moment to make myself presentable.”

“I hear talking, there better not be someone in there with you. I raised no whore.”

John chuckled. If only her father knew how bad his little girl was. She made the prostitutes at the local brothel look like good church going women. Quickly John put his shirt om and grabbed his cloak sliding it on. “We will talk later.” John had no plans on returning to this girls bedside again. He was gone, dust in the wind. His next stop was a tavern to get a drink and then grab his horse and leave this dusty town behind.

“Father I am alone…I just bathed…please.”

Hard knocks came to the door that rattled the hinges.

“Father stop!”

“That’s it, he is in there isn’t he. That fucking asshole is going to answer to me! It better not be David’s retard of a son in there.”

John looked surprised at Michelle. “Who’s David?” John paused in thought. “Maybe it’s David’s kid?”

Michelle shook her head, at this moment the door burst inwards and there stood her father, all six two of him and 300 plus pounds. “You motherfucker!” His eyes met John’s.

“Actually daughter fucker would be more accurate.” John said with a smile. Reaching for his holster he then looked to the window thinking that would be his best bet to escape.

“You fucked my daughter John!” The father stepped in to the room and reached for his gun.

“Is that a question or a statement?” John looked down the barrel of the gun. “Hey…hey we’re all friends here… right?”

“You know how old she is? Friends don’t fuck friends daughters!”

John shrugged his shoulders. “Would it matter if she was older?”

Rick pulled his pistol and fired which sent John diving and Michelle screaming.

John managed to dive in the corner which offered some protection thanks to a dresser. But all Michelle’s father had to do was take two steps and he’d have a clear shot. John stared at the bullet holes in the wall, he didn’t miss by much. “Let’s just talk Rick.”

“Fuck talking.” Rick fired another few shots.

John started counting on his fingers. He wasn’t so good at math. John continued to count and noticed the closet door would open towards him and he could use it to get a bit more protection. Doing so he pinned himself in the corner. Door on one side, dresser on the other.

Another shot blew a hole right through the door just missing John’s head. “That was six right?” John said to himself. Shortly he had silently agreed with himself that six shots had been fired pushed the door closed and walked towards Rick who was focused on loading his revolver.

John reached out with his hands and grabbed the sides of Ricks head snapping it quickly to the left. There was a quick bone chilling crack then Rick’s body fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

John took a deep breath and sighed. “Well fuck.” He looked around for Michelle but she was no where to be found. John walked around the bed and saw Michelle laying on the floor tits to ground, ass up, one leg bent and leaning against the bed the other stretched out. John cocked his head and saw a pool of blood under her body. He didn’t know if he should laugh, cry, or just run. Rick in his madness had accidently shot his daughter but missed him.

“Ain’t that something.” John gathered his things and slowly walked out the front door with a whistle.

The End.

The Unsainted

“Aww I was looking forward to eating that.”  Rick said as he watched his toasted marshmallow fall to the ground just outside the fire pit.

“Good job Rick, mine tastes great!”  Mark said as he pulled the freshly toasted marshmallow off the bent close hanger and quickly put it into his mouth.  Mark soon realized his mistake as the marshmallow was to hot and he had to spit it out, his marshmallow now laid on the grass beside Rick’s.  The two friends shared a look and started to laugh.

“Okay…okay settle down.  It’s almost time to call it a night.”  Troop leader Greg said.

“Can we have a scary story before we go to bed?”

“I don’t know Jordan, it’s late.”

“Come on Troop Leader Greg.  What is a campfire without a scary story?”

Greg paused and thought about it for a moment, trying to come up with an idea for a story.  With a deep breath he smiled.  “Okay…one story.”  Greg took a drink of his pop that was spike with whiskey before beginning.

“Along time ago before this was a camp site for the Troops of Tomorrow, it was sacred land.  Once stood a church just up the hill, the ruins long ago rotted and returned to the ground.  But before time stole the sanctuaries beauty it was once a beautiful home to a loving Priest that was hailed as an angle sent from God.  Of course he had help, five Nun’s also called this church home.  Together they did great good, raised money for charities, helped the poor, fed the hungry.  Life was good and good was the lives that lived on this land.  But time passed as it does, and the faithful that once flooded these lands to listen to the Priest talk about God and learn God’s teachings fell on hard times.  The world was changing, people were changing and faith was leaving this world one ignored prayer at a time.  The Priest and his Nuns did what they could to try to draw attention to the dying church by doing what all churches do, by having bake sales.”

“Trooper Leader Greg, this isn’t scary.”  Mark said.

“I’m getting there…do you want a story or not?”

“Okay…okay…” Mark said and filled his mouth with a raw marshmallow.

“But still they could not keep their lovely but fading church alive.  And so the once magnificent sanctuary faded in to obscurity.  But the Priest and the Nuns did not lose their faith and stayed here keeping faith in God and believing that they would resurrect their God loving home as Jesus was resurrected.  Year after year passed and one by one the Nun’s grew old and died of illnesses and old age.  Their bodies committed to the ground not far from here.  During this time a terrible storm moved in across the land.  High winds slapping the ground and blowing the trees, lighting shattering the darkness of the sky with thundering screams echoing over the land.  Rain fell hard turning the earth to mush.  During the storm the Priest ran out and looked up into the sky and yelled at God’s fury that was unleashed on the world that night.  He cried up to God and asked why, wanting to know why this was done to him, why he fell from favor and into despair.  It was during these blasphemies that God answered him by striking him dead with a powerfully lightening blast.  It is said that this blast of God’s might had turned the Priest into ash instantly his soul was set a flame.  Rumour has it that if you look in to the flames of camp fires you can see his set aflame.”

All the attention of the kids was now on the fire.  Greg smiled to himself, unscrewed the top of his drink and tossed it in to the flames.  The high alcohol content sent an explosion in to the air and sent the kids flying back in screams, but Greg was laughing.

“How was that?”  Greg asked.

“It was great.”  In the fire a shadow stood, its face broke, its body burnt.  From the shadows high pitched screams echoed as warped and impossibly skinny darks shadows came alive with claws for hands and white beady eyes set deep in their shadowed skulls.  Greg stood up but one quick slash sent a wave of blood up over the children spattering them as they went running into the surrounded forest with the clawed and pained spirits of the nuns chasing after them.  In the fire the Priest stood and looked down at the dying man who managed to ask.  “Who are you?”

The Priest smiled.  “We…are the Unsainted.”

The Vessel

My first through when coming up with idea for this story was to do something to do with a boat. Maybe something involving pirates, we all like pirates right? I was sitting in my lazy boy chair, stretched out, half a sleep, and this idea came to me. I hope you enjoy it.


The Vessel

               I enjoyed the winter months.  By 5:00PM the sun had set and I could venture out.  Collectors like myself had nothing against the day, not like I was a vampire or something.  No I was something far worse, from a time so old even God had forgotten about me.  I was no monster, didn’t eat human flesh or hunt little children to steal from their parents.  No.  I was something else, something with an undying need to add to my collection, to my life.

               Reaching for my black jacket I slide it on and smoothed out the collar of my black shirt and looked in to the mirror.  Fuck, I was a Thor looking son of a bitch, which made my job all the much easier.

               Deciding a good place to start the night off was the local coffee shop.  It wasn’t far from my downtown loft.  All the important people in this world would be getting off work, needing that shot of caffeine to help them attend that yoga class or the drive home.

               I couldn’t help but wonder with each soul I passed who would be the lucky one tonight?  A few women mistook my glances of malice as a flirt.  The kind of love I’d give them is the kind of love the Devil would show to his slaves, an eternal love of damnation.

               Turning the corner I saw people glued to their cell phone, vaping, no one smoked anymore.  As I approached I looked a the hipster standing outside.  His beanie slumped back on his head, thick black glasses, looking down at his cell phone.  Probably posting on Facebook or posting a new pic to Instagram.  How the world had changed.  Violence and power once ruled the world, now it was likes and followers.  But I wasn’t in a hipster mood so I moved past, giving him a bump he dropped his cellphone.  I could feel his eyes on me but the coward didn’t say anything.  A generation of gutless snowflakes.

               The coffee shop was busy.  Only a few seats left empty.  Standing in the obnoxiously long line I waited impatiently to get served.  Looking around, trying not to look like I had a twitch I spotted a woman sitting in the back of the coffee shop.  She was dressed in scrubs, nurse maybe? 

               “Hello sir, what would you like?” 

               The barista was cute, big tits, shirt too tight, wearing those black yoga pants.  Looking deep in to her eyes I could see her future.  It was empty, not worth it.  “Chai tea latte, large.”

               “$5.96 sir.”

               I tapped my card on the reader and got to stand in another line waiting for my drink to be made by another hipster, with stretched out ears.

               From the corner of my eye I watched scrubs, it looked like she was caught up in her book.  “Here you go, large chai tea latte for Matt.”  Looking at the barista I nodded, thanking her I made my way towards Scrubs.  Lucky for me the place had filled up and those empty seats had been taken.  Giving me the perfect opportunity to ask to join her.

               “Do you mind if I take this seat and join you?  Place is busy tonight.”  She looked up from her book.  It was a book on anatomy, probably a doctor to be or a nursing student.

               “Sure.”

               Her eyes lingered on mine, flashes of lighting burst through my mind.  I saw her future.  A doctor she would be, cure cancer, she had a great future in medicine.  Family, two kids, husband, fat and boring.  I enjoyed it when I could steal something from the world.  It brought me joy on a level so deep I couldn’t explain it to you if I tried.

               “Nursing student?”  I asked.

               “Yeah, almost finished, just trying to get out of my apartment that I feel like I’ve been locked in.”

               I nodded.  I was easy to talk to, call it part of my paranormal charm.  “Parents must be proud.  Seeing their daughter take up a life of assisting those during periods of suffering and pain.”

               “That’s my goal, to ease the suffering and to assist in healing.”

               “I’m suffering.”  That caused her to look deeply in to my eyes, which was a mistake.  Her eyes glazed over, she was smart, but not smart enough to avoid becoming bewitched.

               “Perhaps I should help ease your pain.”

               I smiled and took a sip of my chai tea latte.  “My, my, aren’t you in a hurry to get me in your bed.”  If anyone over heard us it would play as joke.

               She licked her lips ever so slightly, closed her book. 

               Fuck the people of the 21st century were easy.  I had harder time during the crusades to get people to fall under my spells.  I put it up to the lack of faith in a God that…well doesn’t seem to care anymore.  “Let me call us an Uber.  I don’t live far.”  I smiled, but we were not going back to my loft.

               A few minutes later an uber arrived, we got in and I gave him the address of some townhome across from a storage facility.  The drive was quiet, Scrubs was kissing my neck, her hands running up and down my chest.  I was in her head, this was not her acting under her own free will.  This was me running around in her head.

               The ride was short and we arrived 10 minutes later.

               “Thank you, have a nice evening you two.”

               We slide from the car and I stood there, Scrubs standing beside me.  I waited for the uber to disappear and then I walked across the street and in to the storage facility with Scrubs following. 

               I looked up at the camera’s that were recording us and as I did they shorted out and stopped.  We walked through the facility and we stopped outside number 6.  Unlocking it I lifted the gate up and lights flickered to life.  With a blink of an eye I set her free from her trance.  Shocked she looked around and then at me.

               “Who are you?  How did I get here?”

               I just smiled at her, there was no sense in chit chat.  She went to walk away and I grabbed her by the arm squeezed hard.

               “Let me go!  You’re hurting me!”

               I turned her around so she could look in my storage unit.  Thousands of small black onyx vessels absorbed the light.  Making them look like black holes.  I felt her body relax for a moment as the scene had distracted her.

               “What is this?”

               “It is my collection, some men collect toys, watches, I collect people.”  With her relaxed I let go of her arm, it was clear she was confused.  I pulled from my pocket a plain onyx cube and held it up to her.  “Can you hold this?”

               She reached out and as soon as it touched her skin the onyx cube melted in to her flesh.  She scratched at it turning the palm of her hand red.

               “What did you do to me?  What is going on!  I’m calling the police!”  By the time she reached for her cell phone it chattered to the ground and there beside it was a small onyx figure of her, perfect to ever detail only a few inches high.  Picking it up I looked at it and smiled.  “You will fit in nicely.”  Walking up to a shelf I placed the figure carefully on it, her soul swimming in the black  infinite of her prison. 

               Stepping back I looked at the shelves upon shelves, rows upon rows of trapped souls.  Knights placed beside present day warriors, doctors placed beside roman healers.  Every race, every culture, looked back at me in beautiful onyx.  I was the collector, my life tied to each piece, to each soul, and my collection was great.

The end.