Country Fields

I sat around the campfire staring into the flames.  Purposely trying to ignore what was just over the hill.  Rubbing my hands together warming them near the flames.  I thought back to marching down the palace road looking at everyone who had lined the streets.  I didn’t understand their fascination with watching the walking dead march by.    

Women who normally wouldn’t pay a low-ranking officer in the King’s guard a look were now handing me handkerchiefs and other objects of favor when we marched by.  All that junk was now dirty or lost.  But I did the polite thing and accepted their gifts with a smile.  I was an officer in the King’s guard we were expected to act with honour.  Even though I was surrounded by men who had killed, murdered, raped, god knows what else in the name of the king.  Then again if it was in the name of the King it seemed the most brutal of crimes were acts of war and nothing else.  The battleground was a free for all where all that mattered is you walked away.

My feet still ached from the march down to the battleground.  I can remember telling myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other and repeat.  Eventually you lose track of time and forget how long you had been walking.  I don’t remember passing farms or coming up on travelers on the road.  It was just an empty blur of color.  Other travelers probably knew we were coming and did their best to avoid the roads.  I brought my hands up to my face and blew on them then held them back over the flames.  At that moment I felt a hand grab my shoulder and squeeze.

“Holy shit, can you believe we are here?”

I looked up at my friend Patrick.  He was a big fellow, his armor made him look bigger.  “Yup, here we are.”

“What? You’re not scared, are you?”

Truth of the matter is I was terrified.  How could you not be scared?  Just over the hill is an army with men sitting around campfires with weapons waiting to crack your skull open.  I avoided the question.  “We are trained for this.” 

“Fucking right brother!”  Patrick said loud enough for most men around us to hear.  “Well eat up, I hear the Captain is moving us out at daybreak.”

I nodded.  I knew sleep would elude me tonight.  Looking around the fire I sensed I was not the only one who’d be lying awake tonight.

The night moved on painfully slow.  When I did retreat to my tent, I laid there for a long time staring up at the white cotton roof to my tent.  I spent my night lost in daydreams about being back at home.

I had managed to drift off to sleep, a howl deep in the woods woke me and slipped up the lip of the tent to see if the sun was coming up yet.  It was still pitch black.  This repeated a few times through the night.  This made the night seem to last an eternity and when I did wake to see the dark sky had brightened, I wished that the eternity of darkness would return.

A horn fractured the early morning silence. The sharp sound startled me.  It was the sign to get up, gear up, and to group up at the staging point.

To war I went.

I yawned, the air was cool and crisp.  I heard one man say not far from where I was that this was a good morning to go to war.  I couldn’t disagree more.  It would be life or death we’d be marching towards.  That was the only real question that matter.

Many of the men had passed out where they sat by the fire after drinking too much.  Some fallen awkwardly off the log and lay on the ground, others managed to make it to their bed rolls they laid out.  They too yawned and groaned as they got to their feet.  Some men were dunking their heads into horse troughs to help wake them up.  Others just kept drinking.  Going to war hung over or with your senses dulled was not a good idea.  That was the first thing I was told back at the academy.  But for some maybe their demons needed to be silence before the blood shed started.

I was one of the last to reach the staging point.  I saw Patrick standing at the front.  The captain had already started to bark his orders and the plan for the attack.  I couldn’t hear a damn word that was being said.  Probably didn’t matter, I couldn’t see much strategy to running out into a country field with sword in hand.  The only strategy I had was to stay alive.  I didn’t give two shits what the captain was saying.

The banner men turned and followed the captain as he made his way up the hill, we all follow, and a line soon developed that stretched across the entire hill.  Before us was a field, bodies already littered it and the stench coming from it was gag inducing.  There on the other side of this country field of death stood the enemy.  We stared at them and they stared back at us.  Probably thinking the same god damn thing, I was thinking.  Why am I here?

A horn blew and men started to run, men on the other side ran at us.  Bringing up the rear seemed to be a good idea to me.  I let the rows in front of me get a good head start before I moved.  Running down the downslope of the hill, I wondered what this field use to be?  A beloved field of a farmer?  A quiet pasture?  Maybe it was nothing.  But that was not its fate, blood would be spilt, men would die, and this once quiet peaceful country field would be turned into a devil’s reaping with plenty of souls to condemn.

I pulled my sword from its sheath, looked at the gleaming edge and prepared for my fate.  Will it be life? Will it be death?  I took a breath and prepared to walk down whatever path fate chose.

The End

Sunglasses

Clicking the top of my pen repeatedly I stared at the teacher giving a lesson on Catcher in the Rye.  I think my Dad had told me he read this book when he was in high school.  Going to show you that being a teacher isn’t that hard.  All you do is teach recycled lesson plans and read from a manual.

My attention kept drifting from what she was talking about too staring at her breasts and how the buttons of her white blouse strained to keep them from busting loose for all to see.  It reminded me of the porn I had watched last night before bed.  She reminded me of the porn star to be honest, brunette with large and probably fake tits teasing her students until one was asked to stay late, then they fucked.

Lost in my daydream I didn’t even hear Greg who sat behind me start to talk.  I didn’t like him too much and tended to ignore any shit he was talking about.  He picked on me and called me names and bullied my friends as well, but he seemed to focus on me more lately.  Maybe it was because his family was poor as fuck and my parents just bought me the new iPhone.

“Three O’clock and you’re dead, I’m going to fuck you up.”

His voice was barely auditable, but it was loud enough for me to hear it and the kids sitting around me.  But Mrs. Busty didn’t hear a thing.  Not that the teachers in this school gave a fuck anyway.  They just wanted their paycheck, summers off…ha to think of it they sound like we did.  Until Greg had reminded me about what was going down after school, I was having a relatively good day.  Now my day was a cross between scared shitless and wanting to run home.  You see I wasn’t much of a fighter and the school knew it.  I just wanted to go home and play Battle Royale 3 and jerk off to teacher student porn.

I glanced at the clock; it was fifteen to three.  My phone in my pocket vibrated.  I felt around in my pocket and slid it out just far enough were I could make out the notification.  My friend Peter had texted me.  It said run.  Make up an excuse to leave early and run home.  I didn’t think that was a possibility.  Maybe if I stayed and got the shit kicked out of me the kids at school wouldn’t laugh at me and maybe one of the girls would actually give me a real blow job for being brave.

Looking up at the clock again, it was now five to three.  Where had the ten minutes gone?  I was starting to get nervous and not sure what I was going to do.  Then the bell went off and it was time whether I wanted it to happen or not.  Something was going to go down and it would probably be me with a bloody nose and to the applause of entire school.

I’d then wake up to tomorrow with my images and videos trending on Twitter and YouTube. I would be the next internet super star.  My father told me how when he was growing up there was no evidence of anything he did, and he would tell me how lucky he was to grow up in a time before technology.  I had told him about Greg, he said that I should keep my head up high and not be scared to knock the shit out of him.

With a deep breath I put my books away clicked the pen for the last time and left the classroom heading to the exit where Greg would be waiting for me.  I pushed open the door and I could see him waiting in the playground.  I also noticed a nice pair of Raybans sitting on the ledge of the large brick railing that bordered the stairs.  It was the classic black frames with Rayban written on the temple and the lenses as dark as night.  How could I resist? Picking them up I tried them on.  The sunglasses fit perfectly and I felt a warm fuzzy feeling surround my body, it was similar to the feeling I got at Jeff’s house when we’d steal his parents’ edible cookies.  I felt good like everything was how it should be, I no longer feared the fight that was a head of me.

I saw Greg standing in the open field by the sign of the school, cracking his knuckles and talking to his friends.  Something was said the three of them laughed as a crowd started to gather around them.  It was like the entire school had felt my impending doom.  The next thing I knew I was right up upon them, face to face.  How in the fuck did that happened?  I didn’t even know I was walking.

“Look who showed up, I thought you’d have run home to Mummy.”

“Fuck you Greg.”  I was shocked and surprised at what I had said.  My voice wasn’t shaky and full of fear.  Even the adrenaline that coursed through my body was missing.  This was fucked up.

Greg reached out to pushed me.  I took a step back, dropped my backpack to the ground and looked at him.  “Don’t do that again.”  Fuck, where was this voice coming from.  It was clear I had thrown Greg off his game.  I had never acted like this before.  Through the dark lenses of my sunglasses I saw him clench his fist, cock it, and he threw it.  It hit nothing but air.

To my surprise I had made a fist of my own and I watched it fly through the air.  It was like I was playing a video game and the cut scene just slowed down to show this awesome cinematic part.

It was a perfect shot to his temple.  I felt my hand make perfect contact, a flash of pain went through me and Greg dropped to the ground.  All around me the kids went silent and didn’t move.  They were as shocked as I was.

The first sound I heard was that of old buses pulling away from where they had stopped.  Not making a scene I picked up my backpack and left Greg laying on the ground and took a few steps back.  I didn’t know if he was dead or what.  But he wasn’t moving, he was surrounded by his friends one of which went running to get a teacher to come help Greg.  I ran and didn’t look back.

When I was out of view of the kids, I looked down at my fist.  It was red with swelling and was starting to turn a bluish purple.  How would I explain this to my parents?

“Pussy.”

“Who said that?”  I was alone, no one around me but I heard that voice clearly.

“I said it.”

“What…who is I.”  I took the glasses off and looked around.  Confused.  “Hello?”  I waited and got no answer from that weird voice.  Putting the glasses back on.

“I can help you.  I know your thoughts.  You want that teacher?  We can get her.  You want Sally to ask you to the Spring dance?  We can make that happen.  You help me kid, I’ll help you.”

“Who are you?  And how do you know these things.”

“Don’t worry about that.  Just make sure you keep my lenses clean, keep me on, and together we will be as cool as I made James Dean.”

“Who the fuck is James Dean?”

The End.

Copyright F.C. Janes

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.