#“WHO TOOK MY FOOKIN FISH?!

[tagzpite]

The fact that he does not really fit in that pond Calypso put him in is oof. I have to imagine his body hurts a ton from how cramped that is. And that being allowed to stretch and swim freely probably hurt at first and wasn't an easy task since...depending on how long Calypso kept him he wasn't really swimming in that pond.

The pond is actually connected to one that’s a little bigger, Calypso *is* trying to get him to fall in love with her after all, wouldn’t do much good if he didn’t have space to move, although it’s still far cry from the entire sea especially for seven or so years.

[porkophobic]

The Names Lalli, Tommi Lalli.

A Blind Channel story x

Tommi was a high level member of MI-6 and was their most trusted agent. Tommi had been assigned a mission, to destroy britbctwt. Tommi found this very difficult to do as he had sat in on their spaces many times and enjoyed them thoroughly. However, Tommi had to stand by his mission otherwise he would be terminated. Tommi hatched a plan to capture them, he laid a trap. under a cardboard box he left capri sun’s and pieces of traybake made by Liz the welsh woman Tommi met in Cardiff when he was lost one day, because nobody intentionally goes to Cardiff . He left the box open with a stick and with a piece of string attached to the box he would pull it and they would be captured. He laid a trail of candies and other sweeties all the way from Riverside fish and chip shop where he knew they would be becuz who could resist a battered sausage.

There they were eating chips and discussing matters, Flo had drowned her chips in vinegar, she had questionable taste but it was allowed. Amy was there, she nibbled away on her porg sausage and discussed the weather. It was overcast, cloudy but not too cloudy if you get me. Mort was also there, Licking the salt off of Amy’s chips, she was a thief but a respectable thief. Mils was also there. She was just living, she looked Scottish and that's all that mattered.

Mort spotted the trail and began to follow it, The others noticed she had run off and they followed after her screaming. They ran 4 miles, when suddenly the trail stopped and led to a cardboard box. The box had all of the girls' favourite treats inside and they were tempted to go and retrieve them.

They decided that all together they would run towards the box and retrieve the treats, they reached the box and climbed in, when suddenly the roof of the box closed! and they were trapped.

Tommi rubbed his hands together, he had caught the British and he would now terminate them. When suddenly a voice was heard in the distance “OI Tommi!” “Leave those wee women alone!” It was none other than Olli Matela, he had recently been released from prison and he had come to save Britain and its people. Tommi looked up and saw Olli and laughed “You cant defeat me mr. matalan am the strongest man in all of finland.” tommi cried. “I know, but i can give it a good shot, a learnt some things from me time in the clink.” Olli said, smirking as he remembered his beloved prison days. The fight began, Tommi threw a jab at Olli and it landed on the mole on his neck. Olli fell back slightly and winded his arm up and threw a fist at Tommi’s nose, which his grandmother loved so dearly. “`Watch me nose, my nan will throw a fit!” Tommi cried.

Olli ran over to the box to free the girls, when a black van appeared, the van ran down Olli sending my flying across the bonnet of the car. The side door of the van flew open, and opened the cardboard box britbctwt were in. it was team finlandia they had pulled up in the van to save their besties from the evil no-gooders! Yet they took Olli out, who was there to help but nevertheless. In the front seat Isabella and Karo shouted at britbctwt get in the fookin van. They climbed in, while Sasza and Mikuc dragged Olli into the van where Dr Wiktoria Wonsheep would perform life-saving cpr, Isabella hit the gas and drove down the road, flames coming out of the exhaust.

——————

Please leave ur feedback in the replies below, this isn’t a follow on from Trouble in Sainsbury’s more a spin-off if you will.

below is the britbctwt trap x

[inkribbon796]

I Thought We Were Brothers Ch. 1: Wish I Could Relive Every Single Word

Summary: Marvin and Chase have a lot of unspoken grievances between each other and neither of them know what to do about it.

A/N: For Marvin’s birthday. Chapter title from the song “Brother” by Kodaline.

Chapters: 1, 2

Marvin knew he should say something. Anything at this point was better than the growing chasm opening up between him and several of the Septics. J.J and Henrik were civil on a good day but Chase was a different matter.

It started way before time travelers came came back with grim news, or Marvin first voiced the want to train Chase’s daughter in magic. It began with Robbie.

Sweet, innocent Robbie.

Marvin would never apologize or regret raising the young teen from the dead. He couldn’t.

The magician had looked the young man’s mother dead in the eyes and swore that he’d protect Robbie. Had sworn on his magic and own soul that he would do everything in his power to always bring him back to her alive. And Marvin had done just that, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t tried.

But that night had left Marvin and Chase on unspoken bad terms. Chase ceased trusting Marvin, had started drinking again, and then cleaned himself up a couple months after. The atmosphere, forever spoiled.

After the incident with the Suits, Marvin had ceased trusting Chase as well. Chase now had a part of Clubs forever buried in his soul, and it showed in little ways. His beard was getting trimmed instead of him just allowing it to go wild until he shaved it back. He’d gotten a gun, a real one, and was hiding it in his room in the base. None of the heroes tried to talk about it, but many of them knew it was there. The marksman sometimes made especially barbed jabs at Marvin when he was tired or too exhausted to keep his filter up. Then there was the matter of Dark.

Marvin had seen the look in Chase’s eyes whenever Damien was on the news. Chase was especially anxious whenever Marvin got near any of Dark’s kids. Even if those kids were King and Host. Dark was more willing to hold long conversations with Chase, and Chase had been caught by Marvin on more than one occasion texting Dark.

There was something growing between Dark and Chase and everyone was too busy walking on eggshells to confront either party about it.

Well Marvin was sick of watching his friend group tear itself apart. He needed to talk to Chase, before the guy did something stupid.

Marvin walked into the comms room. Chase was in there with Tommy and King.

“This job always as borin’[1] as shit?” Tommy asked.

King chuckled, “Yeah but so long as you’re listening to the feed you can be on your phone or work on stuff. Logan and Bing once built a transforming roomba from the ground up during a couple comms sessions. It’s why Logan likes to be in here, he gets his little side projects done.”

While King and Tommy were talking, Chase immediately noticed that Marvin had opened the door and was just staring at him.

“Hey Chase, can we talk?” Marvin asked.

“Logic, takin’[2] a smoke back,” Chase scoffed into the microphone and stood up, “King, yeh[3] have seniority, call us if anythin’[4] happens.”

“Yes, finally!” King smiled in joy and threw his arms up as Tommy groaned in annoyance, flopping back in his chair and rolling his eyes. “I got it!”

Without a word, Chase stepped out and quietly motioned for Marvin to follow him and took him out to the little smoking area. There Chase lit up a cigarette and took a deep lungful of nicotine laced smoke, before even acknowledging Marvin’s presence, “What do yeh[3] want?”

“I wanna talk,” Marvin reminded. “Why do yeh[3] think I followed yeh[3] out here yeh[3] bollocks[5]?”

Chase took a seat, “Fine, what yeh wanna go on about?”[6]

“Look, I know we don’t usually talk, but we need ta[7] talk about somethin’[8],” Marvin told him.

The marksman gave an amused chuckle, “Nah, we don’t have anythin’ ta talk about. Just go back ta yer books Marv.”[9]

“Yeh[3] hate me, so we got shite[10] ta[7] talk about,” Marvin told him.

“You murdered Stacy an’[11] the kids, ‘a[12] course I fookin’[13] hate yeh[3]!” Chase ripped the cigarette out of his mouth and stomped towards him.

Marvin flinched and Chase pulled away, “An’ sure yeh didn’t this time, but yeh did the other times, yeh did before they came back. Yeh set an entire city on fire, killed hundreds ‘a people. What am I supposed ta say ta yeh?”[14]

“I know,” Marvin called back, terror in his voice. “I know an’ don’t know what the fook was wrong with me ta brin’ me ta that point. That is hundreds ‘a thousands ‘a people who did nothin’ ta deserve the horror ‘a fookin’ burnin’ ta death!”[15]

“I don’t remember what was wrong with yeh[3],” Chase shot back, still angry. “I got stuck with that fooker’s[16] feelings, not his memories.”

The two of them fell quiet, the air nasty and injured between them.

Marvin felt like poison was bubbling in this throat. “The fook[17] happened ta[7] us?”

“Yer gonna have ta be specific,”[18] Chase asked curtly.

“I wanted ta[7] learn magic an’[11] hunt ghosts,” Marvin raked his hands down his face. “I didn’t want ta[7] save the world an’[11] deal with the fact I fooked[19] the future so bad it had ta[7] be fixed.”

“Yeah,” Chase frowned, before his phone went off. Chase pulled it out to see a text had shown up. It was Mori, in the water, near some tunnels with a fish in his mouth, the photo taken from the shoreline which meant Memento or Tempus had probably taken the picture.

The picture got a tiny breathy laugh from Chase, and a small smile. His kids seemed to be having fun, they didn’t seem to be getting into some big trouble. Yet, at least.

“They usually text yeh[3]?” Marvin asked, trying to make his tone sound less hostile.

“Yeah,” Chase’s expression turned bittersweet, he started texting Dark with an update. “Helps ta have a second pair ‘a eyes on ‘em. They tend ta slip out ‘a the Manor or the warehouses when Dark’s not watchin’. An’ that’s on a day when Wil doesn’t just sweep ‘em away an’ cause trouble with ‘em.”[20]

“Why are yeh in charge ‘a watchin’ ‘em?”[21] Marvin asked, completely confused. “Can’t those two just rise an’[11] repeat what they did with the other six? I mean if yeh[3] can handle raising six fookin’[13] demons in secret, three seem like no big deal.”

Chase paused, his fingers still. They were going to figure it out eventually. King already knew, he’d confided that in Chase already. “Cause[22] they’re mine, Marv.”

Marvin spent the next minute trying to figure out if Chase was joking, and then another minute trying to figure out how that was possible since they were demons and Chase was still human.

But a nagging feeling tickled the back of his head: was he still human?

Logan and the other Sides had been demons since the first moment he had met them and no one had been the wiser. Not even the Sides, and Marvin should have known. He should have taken one look at Virgil and more importantly Remus and known. Chase could be a demon, he could not know, and fly under every kind of test and radar known to magic itself. Hell, Patton and Roman still came up as humans for those tests.

“Do— Does uh,” Marvin floundered for an adequate response, because what the hell was he supposed to say to that! “Does Dark know?”

“Yeah, he’s the one who told me,” Chase was moving his cigarette back up to his lips. “Don’t know if he told the rest ‘a[12] his kids but they all know too. King said as much.”

“So what now?” Marvin asked.

Chase let out an ugly, contemptuous snort, “What about now?”

“Dark’s got yer[23] kids, is there another custody battle comin’[24] up?” Marvin winced at the memory of Chase’s last custody battle, one he had lost handedly.

“They’re Dark’s kids, he’s the most powerful bein’[25] in all Egoton, there’s nothin’[26] ta[7] fight against, Marv,” Chase dismissed, rolling his cigarette around in his mouth.

“Chase, no yeh can’t just roll o’er an’ just—”[27] Marvin spat.

“Calm yer[23] fookin’[13] tits, Marv,” Chase scoffed. “Dark an’[11] I have somethin’[8] set up. I see ‘em[28] more than I see my human kids.”

Marvin shoved his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do with them. “Okay, that’s good at least. So did yeh an’ Dark talk about stuff then. I know that the Clubs version ‘a yeh was with him in the future.”[29]

“I don’t have a future with Dark anymore,” Chase snarled. “He’s with Wil.”

“Wil cheats on him with practically the entire town,” Marvin reminded.

“I know!” Chase slammed his fist on the bench before raking his fingers down his face. “Yeh[3] think I haven’t noticed that bubblegum bastard perched on his arm, being the fookin’[13] shittiest arsehole[30] in the whole fookin’[13] world?”

Marvin opened his mouth but Chase turned and started on a tirade, “Dark is loyal ta[7] him. He fookin’[13] raised those kids almost by himself. An’[11] what does he get in return? The fooker[31] rips his heart out an’[11] leaves. It pisses me off.”

“I thought they said Wil died?” Marvin asked and all the momentum bled out of Chase’s system.

“Yeah he did,” Chase corrected himself. “Fook![17] I did it again.”

“Did what again?” Marvin asked.

“I say weird thin’s[32], I do weird thin’s[32],” Chase dismissed. “Yesterday I made like three different coffees, one fer me, one fer Eef, an’ another fer Dark. Crank wasn’t e’en in that day, an’ why the hell should I be makin’ a fookin’ coffee fer Dark? I was in the base.”[33]

“Wasn’t future yeh datin’ him or fookin’ him or somethin’?” Marvin asked.

“I think he was gonna[34] propose,” Chase admitted.

Marvin just stared at Chase, “What? How do yeh[3] know?”

“I caught myself lookin’[35] at rings,” Chase admitted. “Tryin’ ta find somethin’ that looks nice with red an’ blue. Not that it’s ‘a any use now.”[36]

“How much do yeh[3] remember or feel?” Marvin asked, coming closer and taking a seat next to Chase.

“I don’t have memories, just his feelin’s[37],” Chase frowned in thought. “Frustration, anger, love. Future me was so smitten with Dark that I know he was killin’ fer him. The weight ‘a my guns feel off now. Whene’er I look at Mori an’ Memento I feel so upset ‘cause they’re with Wil an’ they’re so big an’ it eats at me. Wilford fookin’ stole my kids an’ changed ‘em, an’ I’m supposed ta stand by an’ watch his aura keep changin’ ‘em.”[38]

“Have yeh tried talkin’ ta Dark about this?”[39] Marvin questioned.

“An’[11] tell him what?” Chase demanded. “That I fookin’[13] hate his guts an’[11] I wanna[40] take him out on a date ta[7] this nice curry place I saw on my last patrol at the same time. That I think his boyfriend is awful fer[41] him an’[11] I wanna[40] put a hollow point right between his fookin’[13] eyes?”

Marvin was trying to find some way to comfort or calm Chase down as he kept rambling. “Yah know maybe I should march my arse o’er ta his office an’ tell him that I hate wakin’ up in the morning. That when I wake up, I can’t stand it when my bed is fookin’ empty. That someone is supposed ta be in my bed with me an’ I just lay there fer hours ‘cause I can’t leave until he knows I’m there.”[42]

“Yeah, Marv, Dark would love that,” Chase laughed sadly. “Big, powerful mob boss would love some sad alcoholic who can barely hold himself together long enough ta[7] get out ‘a[12] bed in the mornin’[43]. That’ll really get his attention.”

“Well he must’a liked somethin’ ‘cause he was datin’ yeh,”[44] Marvin tried to offer.

“Wil was dead,” Chase reminded. “He’s alive an’ kickin’ now. Dark’s not gonna e’en look my way if Wil’s alive.”[45]

Marvin and Chase went quiet again. Unsure how to help either of them.

Fortunately for Marvin, he didn’t have to. King called them both back in. City hall wanted Average, Marvin, and Jackie to come in for a meeting.

Marvin saw the tense look in Chase’s eyes but he agreed and the two of them set off to meet Jackie at City Hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. boring

2. taking

3. you

4. anything

5. balls

6. Fine, what do you want to talk about?

7. to

8. something

9. Nah, we don’t have anything to talk about. Just go back to your books Marv.

10. shit

11. and

12. of

13. fucking

14. And sure you didn’t this time, but you did the other times, you did before they came back. You set an entire city on fire, killed hundreds of people. What am I supposed to say to you?

15. I know and don’t know what the fuck was wrong with me to bring me to that point. That is hundreds of thousands of people who did nothing to deserve the horror of fucking burning to death!

16. fucker’s

17. fuck

18. You’re going to have to be specific

19. fucked

20. Helps to have a second pair of eyes on them. They tend to slip out of the Manor or the warehouses when Dark’s not watching. And that’s on a day when Wil doesn’t just sweep them away and cause trouble with them.

21. Why are you in charge of watching them?

22. Because

23. your

24. coming

25. being

26. nothing

27. Chase, no you can’t just roll over and just—

28. them

29. Okay, that’s good at least. So did you and Dark talk about stuff then. I know that the Clubs version of you was with him in the future.

30. asshole

31. fucker

32. things

33. Yesterday I made like three different coffees, one for me, one for Eef, and another for Dark. Crank wasn’t even in that day, and why the hell should I be making a fucking coffee for Dark? I was in the base.

34. going to

35. looking

36. Trying to find something that looks nice with red and blue. Not that it’s of any use now.

37. feelings

38. Frustration, anger, love. Future me was so smitten with Dark that I know he was killing for him. The weight of my guns feel off now. Whenever I look at Mori and Memento I feel so upset because they’re with Wil and they’re so big and it eats at me. Wilford fucking stole my kids and changed them, and I’m supposed to stand by and watch his aura keep changing them.

39. Have you tried talking to Dark about this?

40. want to

41. for

42. You know maybe I should march my ass over to his office and tell him that I hate waking up in the morning. That when I wake up, I can’t stand it when my bed is fucking empty. That someone is supposed to be in my bed with me and I just lay there for hours because I can’t leave until he knows I’m there.

43. morning

44. Well he must have liked something because he was dating you

45. He’s alive and kicking now. Dark’s not going to even look my way if Wil’s alive.

[movedyourchair505]

Napule Nights - trentadue

I am once again overwhelmed by how excited everyone is, and I want to thank Elana from the bottom of my heart for keeping me sane when I write difficult chapters. Going to give a bit of a violence warning?

- chapter navigation -

x

The first thing she noticed when the blur lifted from her mind was the cold, her legs as well as her arms were pressed to a hard, cold surface, her head was pounding and she shot up straight as soon as even a hint of recollection rose high enough to comprehend, the dark room she found herself in unfamiliar, confirming her suspicions, confirming that she hadn't in fact dreamt it all, that she really was in a strange room, she didn't know where, couldn't remember how she had gotten there, then she thought of Alexander, realised what the last thing he'd said to her was, that his worries had come true after all and the fact that she wasn't with him right now meant that she probably wouldn't be ever again.

Slowly, moment by moment found its way back, the picture forming, she remembered Cook going down next to her, then the second security guard, having hardly seen the first before it all blurred, she realised now she must have been put into the back of a car, the car she'd noticed straight away to be suspicious. Despite everything, she had felt untouchable, was used to getting things, having it all her way after everything she'd been through and now all of that had been taken away, she was by herself, vulnerable as opposed to untouchable and protected, a luxury she hated to admit she'd gotten used to, even though she had always fended for herself, was good at it until she didn't have to anymore and wherever she was, she already knew she would have to compose herself, take control because whatever she said or did, the slightest detail, it'd have consequences.

Her efforts to think strategically instantly, breaking through the cloud of haziness in her mind, it was interrupted by an unexpected image in front of her inner eye, the face she'd grown to adore and study extensively, the way it'd changed from anger to calm, from irritation to indifference. It was like he regretted his words, was as surprised as her, not that it mattered now. She knew his words alone should have made her feel powerful, but she felt anything but, she had never been as powerless as she was right here, right now, and while he'd probably felt vulnerable and covered it up with a mask of disinterest in her response, she knew that really, she had failed in recognising the depth of the situation, not only had he seen it as a last resort to allow himself to utter those words, but she'd undermined his worries and him caring when – and she hated to admit it even to herself – he'd been right.

Even with them growing closer she realised now that she should have been smarter, should have deduced that the way he was opening up carried more weight, ultimately showed her now how comfortable he'd been with her, how he expressed … love. The word alone made her shiver and instead of getting lost in how she'd misjudged him because of how well he played off any sort of emotion, she tried to distract herself from one helpless situation with the other, slowly moving to stand up, slipping out of her heels as she didn't trust her legs to be stable enough yet, walking around in the small room, scanning every inch of the four grey concrete walls, tried the door for good measure but the round handle didn't even rattle when she tried to move it, there was nothing but a blank table, nothing on top and nothing underneath, no visible screws, same as the chair, too solid for use of any kind.

She felt lost, it wasn't like she hadn't been threatened before, but at least there was something to work with, now she didn't know where she was, who and what was on the other side of that wall and what it meant for her. She sat back down on the ground on the wall opposite to the door to not be caught by surprise again, determined to stay awake because she refused to be once again brought somewhere against her will, consoling herself with what she'd learned at least from being with Turner, if she was meant to die, she would be dead already. She hoped the same rules applied, yet already found herself thinking of tactics to win time if it came down to it, and she wondered for how long she could keep it up, if stalling was any use at all because what guaranteed her that she was going to get out of there, and get out of there alive?

She hadn't given a response to the strongest words she'd ever heard, it wasn't like no one had ever told her they loved her before, it usually took a dance and a drink, but the fact that they'd come from him, she wondered now if maybe her lack of response had sealed her fate, that he'd assume instantly she didn't love him and she couldn't process what that meant, maybe he didn't care now, maybe he'd made himself vulnerable and out of spite he would leave her fate up to the universe.

She swallowed hard, brushed her hair back with her fingers and then she realised she missed a weight she had grown rather accustomed to, her flat hand coming down at her bare chest only to feel nothing but skin and bone, and nothing to indicate she had any sort of connection to Turner.

-

Alex slammed the piece of paper he'd been reading down on the desk, nearly spilling both cups of coffee Miles had carried into his office mere minutes before across all the paper scattered on his desk. “Can't fookin' focus!”

Miles' eyes snapped up and he folded his fingers in his lap, his feet up on the desk as he leaned back in Alex's office chair. “You joost 'ave teh give yehr okay, Al, once you fink 's all figured out and planned well enough” Miles shrugged, licking his lips. “Ya set it all in motion last night, you said, it's under control.”

“I know” he stated. He knew Miles was worried, wanted to make him think clearly.

“Wha' are yeh worried about?”

Alex raked his fingers through his hair, felt his hands trembling and he stopped pacing, staring back straight at Miles. He couldn't hold it in any longer, was sick of not being taken seriously, the likeness of the situation with what had happened less than twelve hours before too agonising. He needed someone to understand the main source of his anxiety, needed at least Miles to fully know. “I fookin' told 'er I loved 'er, alreyht?”

Miles' lips parted, his eyes widening. “You wha'?”

Alex's jaw locked as he tried to compose himself, took a deep breath and tried to focus on the here and now, his thoughts wandering back once again to the events of the previous night, could not help but think through it over and over again, if he'd thought of everything sending his men out, if he'd put the right people to work on the right details, if he'd asked Jamie every possible question he could, if he should have been harder on him even though he knew it would have been irrational, knew it wasn't his fault, and he was more worried than he was angry at him anyway.

“Al, wha' the fook did ya do?” Miles said, shaking his head and reaching out to take a sip from his coffee.

“I didn't fookin' mean teh! Sheh wouldn't fookin' take meh seriousleh and look where it fookin' got 'er, I were reyht and sheh brushed it all off!” He called, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Did sheh not say anefin'?” Miles asked, raising his eyebrows as he watched Alex starting to pace again, back and forth and it was slowly but surely driving him mad.

Alex breathed out shakily. “No” he muttered.

With a swift movement, Miles took his feet off the table, his elbows resting on the top of the desk as he leaned forward. “And you're still going through hell and back again teh get 'er now?”

“Wha'?” Alex snapped, eyes locking with Miles', the anger slowly fading. “Wha' are yeh sayin'? I joost fookin' need 'er back, Mi.”

Miles chewed on his lip, scratching at his chin. “Even though sheh dun't luv ya?”

His instant instinct was defense, the words rushing out of his mouth before his brain had given the okay. “Yeh dun't kno' tha'.”

“Al, come on” Miles said, knowing he had to snap him out of it now. “Adriana told ya tha' and even sheh-...”

Alex's eyes darkened. “Why dun't yeh shut up?” He snapped, stretching his fingers.

Miles cleared his throat. “No, Al, I won't shut up. Because yeh've got teh snap out of it. Tha' girl might not luv ya and you might 'ave gone in too deep teh even fookin' see it. Ya should've learnt from last time, but you didun't. So fookin' beh smart now. Sheh might 'ave been plannin' this all along, dun't fall for anofer scheme. Ya kno' wha' birds can beh like.”

Alex's lower lip was trembling as he tried to keep his anger below the surface, knew that it was his fault more than anybody else's, hated to admit that Miles' words deserved consideration. “Not her, Mi...” he offered instead. “Not her...”

Miles sighed, reaching into the pack of cigarettes on the table, fishing one out and lighting it for himself, then offering one to Alex. “Smoke?”

“No.”

“Are ya gunna talk teh yehr dad?” Miles asked.

“No.”

“Al, 's time teh take responsibiliteh. Jade weren't a smart business decision. Yehr dad won't beh 'appeh about historeh repeatin' itself, yeh've onleh got a few strikes even as 'is son.”

Alex swallowed hard. “I take full responsibiliteh for Jade” he stated, the way her name left his lips now tearing at his heart, forcing him to take a deep breath. Hours had passed since he'd last seen her, he hadn't slept, wondered if she had, didn't even want to imagine what she'd gone through, where she was, what was happening to her. The thought of never seeing her again hurt too much to ponder.  

Miles swallowed. “I'm joost worried about ya” he said slowly, getting up from the chair and walking around the desk, meeting Alex halfway and unpromptedly wrapped his arms around him, held on through the instinctive struggle, then squeezed Alex when he gave up the fight and leaned against him, his fingers momentarily clinging on to Miles' jacket. “Beh smart about this, Al” he said. “I'm gunna go see wha' I can find out. I'll beh back later but I need ya teh focus. All fings considered.”

Alex took in a sharp breath, forcing his eyes open when he drew back, nodding, then watching Miles head for the door. “Beh careful.”

-

Despite her best efforts, Jade realised as soon as a loud noise made her jump that she'd slept, that her situation hadn't changed and it was a relief only for a split second, then her heart came to a stop momentarily when she saw the face of the man heading right for her in the room that now felt like it was shrinking around her, the walls coming closer.

Marco Mancini.

She swallowed, her throat dry, her limbs aching and she forced herself to her feet, barely felt like herself but knew she had to, holding her head up high as he approached her.

“Well” he said, his lips caught in a bittersweet smile as he got comfortable in the chair. “Long time no see, eh?”

She stayed silent, watched him closely as she forced herself to focus, to work with even the smallest detail.

“If I'd only known … got me real fucked up, your little stunt at the boss' club, Jade. Can I call you Jade?” He didn't want for her to answer, instead prompted another question for her instead. “So are you ready to make it up to me?”

Jade huffed, raising her eyebrows at him. “Cazzata. I don't owe you anything, cretino.”

His eyes darkened, with one quick movement he was out of his chair and in the same position he had once before had her in, his fingers moving slowly around her neck, squeezing and watching her breath hitch in her throat. “You listen to me very carefully, baldracca.” He added more and more pressure to her neck, demonstrating his words, his grip stronger, unfazed by her hands around his wrists, scratching at his skin. “For what Turner did to me, I told Alfonso to kill you. If you value your life, you're going to have some respect” he spat.

Jade gasped when he stepped away, feeling the tight, familiar grip around her neck in the most unfamiliar way even when he drew away and she almost slid down the wall, it took everything within her to keep her legs stood straight. She was exhausted, felt weaker than she ever had, and she gasped when two more men stepped into the room, pulled her off the wall and forced her into the chair, tying her hands behind her back, her struggle as useless as it would have been with Cook and Helders.

“That's better” Mancini smirked, now standing over her, his eyes slowly descending to her legs. “If you kick me, you'll regret it.”

She swallowed hard, kept her legs underneath the chair, staring back at him steadily despite her eyes threatening to close, her efforts to not show how much she was still struggling for breath fruitless. “W-Why am I here?” She asked as the door slammed again.

He chuckled, cracking his knuckles. “Well, it's the perfect time to be here” he smirked. “We know that Turner trusts you, we know he's weak right now. And we're this close to-...”

“You're not close to shit” she said. “And if I'm here because you think I'm going to tell you anything about him, then you might as well change my location.”

“You wouldn't be the first. We have ways of getting information, puttana. We can test just how strong your alliance with the man is.”

She gave him a resistant smile, tilting her head back, her gaze remaining on his. “Are you going to hit a woman, Mancini?”

“This is your last chance” he stated, gritting his teeth. “Next time someone comes in here, you won't get to keep that smile on your face.”

She was shaking, tried to tense her body to keep up appearances and swallowed hard, the lump in her throat straining as she held his gaze and remained silent until he turned on his heel and without another word left the room, fast enough to not allow her a glimpse on the other side of the door.

-

“Them glasses are expensive, Al.”

Alex swallowed, following his gaze to the tight grip his own hand had on the crystal glass, and he down the rest of the bourbon, enjoying the burn of the liquor down his throat.

“Anofer?”

He shook his head. “Need teh keep me 'ead clear, Mi” he said, squeezing his eyes shut, leaning slowly against the headboard of Miles' king size bed, putting the glass down and taking another drag from his smoke. His whole body was warm, sweating even, yet his hands had been cold since the moment his world had fallen apart. He was trying his hardest to not think about her, to not process what Miles had warned him of, if they got her back, that would be the time to think about that, even though he knew he had to prepared.

“Al, I fink ya need sum sleep. You've been workin' for twenteh-four hours.”

Alex stretched his jaw, inhaling slowly. “I need teh beh on alert.”

Miles lowered himself onto the bed, adjusting his leopard print robe. “You've dune all ya could. I 'eard ya, sayin' teh Maffew on the phone, 'wha'ever it takes, tha' neither moneh or lives matter'. And if 's all figured out tomorrow, they'll move in and get 'er.”

He swallowed, the look in his eyes breaking Miles' heart when they met his own. “Mi, wha' if I dun't get 'er back?”

Miles wrapped his arm around his shoulders, squeezing lightly and guiding Alex's head down on his shoulder. “You're Alexander Turner. You'll get 'er back.”

-

Jade didn't know how much time passed, minutes, hours, maybe it was already twenty-four hours, maybe more, but the more time did pass, the more that sinking feeling crept up on her that no one was coming for her, that she'd blown her chance, that everything she'd wanted she had taken for granted, and now she had it all ripped away from her. She had been so busy about the shift in her life, about getting through to Alexander that the way she felt, the way he made her feel had become secondary and now she'd had nothing to say for herself, clueless as to what she would have done had Cook not rushed her away.

Before she could decide if she could process the answer to that question or shut it into the back of her mind, the click in the door made the decision for her. She had now freed herself from the chair, had tried to free her hands but only rubbed her wrists sore in an attempt to get the restraints off, had felt the blood and her skin was stinging, she rose to her feet in her heels the moment she sensed movement, her heart skipping a beat when she stared right back at Alfonso himself.

“Sit her down!” He barked, a henchman walking in behind him, followed by a tall blonde that closed the door, leaned back against the wall next to it with her arms crossed, watching the henchman yank Jade forward by her arm and sitting her back down on the chair, this time tying her ankles to the legs of it.

“I won't tell you anything either” she said, her face blending back into an expression of absolute disinterest as she held her head high, holding Alfonso's gaze.

He gave a nod to his henchman that once again stepped forward, whipping a knife slowly from his pocket and holding it an inch above her arm, making her eyes grow wide in fear, cursing herself for breaking her pokerface when she saw a smile of satisfaction on Alfonso's face.

“Right” he stated, cracking his knuckles. “This is Enzo, my head of security. Every time you give me an answer that I don't like, we're gonna decorate you with some blood, what do you think?”

She swallowed, her throat still tight and she pressed her lips together. “I think then there's no use in trying.”

He chuckled. “Is that why Turner likes you? Because you're hard to break?”

Her eyes darkened. “I hope you choke the next time you say his name.”

“Where's the warehouse?” The blonde snapped, making Alfonso stand up straight after bending closer to hover over Jade.

“Easy, babe, we're just getting started” he said, looking back at her and silencing her with a simple look before turning to Jade again. “But she's right. That is a good question.”

Jade laughed, shaking her head. “That's not what I'm here fo-...” Before she could finish her sentence, she felt a stinging sensation of pain on her arm, the security guard dragging the sharp blade into her skin, making her hiss and she had to try her hardest to blink the tears out of her eyes.

“You like that?” Alfonso asked, taunting her. “There's plenty more where that came from. You're here because me and you have unfinished business, you came into my club, you were working for Turner all along.”

She tried to calm her voice, to slow her breath and ignore the pain. She remembered seeing him at the club, sat far away from her, had given her a smile and even sent her a drink from the bar, and she couldn't help but enjoy the fact that he gave her more credit than deserved at that point, it showed her that he respected her efforts. She stayed silent, merely smiled knowingly.

“And now you're going to help us get back at him, you're going to tell us where his main warehouse is.”

She shook her head. “I will do no such thing” she stated, tensing when she already saw the blade shine and move from the corner of her eye, groaning in pain when he dragged it deeper into her skin next time.

Alfonso smiled. “We can do this all night” he chuckled. “Let's try something else. Why don't you tell us where he lives?”

Jade laughed. “We will be here all night” she said, her eyes locked on his as long as he looked at her and she tilted her head to the side. “What makes you so sure I've been there?”

Another nod towards the henchman, this time two deeper cuts on her shoulder and she winced, she had withstood worse pain, but she was well-aware that she had a breaking point, found herself longing for Alexander to hold her when she reached it, the realisation that her hopes would be fruitless hitting her harder than the blood that blurred in her vision, her body shaking with frustration, the pulsing pain becoming more and more prominent.

“You'll have us believe that you haven't? You've been working for him, you're practically his own personal whore” Alfonso said. “Tell us where he lives” he spat, gritting his teeth, now stepping closer to her.

She knew that her situation was hopeless, tried to focus as hard as she could while paying attention to it all at the same time, wondering if there was something she knew, something that would be no harm telling them because Alexander could figure it out but if she had no way of warning him then she would stab him in the back and no matter how he felt now, she was not going to do that, but maybe there was something she could do just to get out, to explain, to have them let her go because at some point, she wouldn't stand a chance because she was going to get weaker, her neck already straining, her arm bruised and now cut, her wrists and ankles bloody. She hated the way she must have looked now, the knowledge gnawing at her confidence that she was desperately trying to hold in check already.

“We got you” the blonde stated. “And we might as well get him. You're going to give answers or it's going to get worse. If you don't care about your own well-being, then what about him.”

Alfonso raised his eyebrows, once again looked back at her, then nodded slowly. “She's right” he said again as he focused back on Jade. “You seem to care about him much more.”

She swallowed, had thought that it was all targeted at her, determined to withstand any pain to prove herself but the thought of him being in her place shifted her perspective upside down, her lips pressed together as she scanned her brain for a way out.

“I have hurt him before and I will again. This time I won't go as easy” Alfonso threatened, his eyes dark as he kept pushing and she could tell that while she was frustrating him and he was going further and further because she was making him, he wasn't bluffing either, her whole body tense.

“What are his alliances in San Marino?”

-

“Alexander David Turner, you are not going.”

Alex swallowed as he looked back at Serena, had won and lost a million feuds with her and they had both lost count and while he knew that it was his responsibility, that he had the upper hand, there was no arguing with her now, there was no room for negotiation. “Serena...”

“No” she said, shaking her head, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “He wants to get a rise out of you, he wants to provoke you. If you go there now, you are playing right into his hands, you are giving him what he wants! You are not going to be this foolish again and throw it all away. We have got this. You trust me. You trust Matt.”

“I swear if-...”

“Alex” she interrupted, snapping him out of it. “There's nothing else to say. You have thought of it all, you made sure that everything is taken care of so now let us act on it. Everyone's got their orders and if you give your okay, she will be with you again by the end of the day.”

His fingers were shaking, trembling around the cigarette that was burning up without having touched his lips once. Had someone in theory told him that this would happen, he would not have predicted the mental state he was in now, desperate and ready to risk anything it took and he knew it was irrational, the only person that could have gotten away with telling him so was Miles and even he couldn't change his mind. His hand balled into a fist, he stepped back, walked around his desk to sit down in his chair.

“Miles said you didn't sleep last night either” she said. “Get some rest. Go home and we'll sort it, Alex.”

He shook his head. “I will be here when she comes back.” He forced himself to say when, not if, because there was no way that she wasn't coming back to him alive and well, the thought of anything else too much to bear. “Go.”

Serena gave a nod, let out a sigh of relief, then exited the office, leaving him with his thoughts but he knew that he had to deal with his eventually, was dizzy from smoking and hardly eating, from missing something that had become so familiar, something he now knew he couldn't live without.

Every time he rested his head in his hands, he felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness, hardly sleeping, but there were points where he didn't remember the minutes that had just passed, whenever he could stay clear enough lighting himself a cigarette, trying to make sense of it all because as much as he was desperate to see her, to hold her, he knew that he couldn't, he knew he had to ask questions, he knew that there was a possibility of things not going back to the way they were because he'd misjudged her, because she'd played with him all along, the thought making his eyes sting.

He was tempted to pour himself a drink but he would have only made himself shake more, tried to focus on getting answers rather than satiating the urge to find out what she would have said had she not left him, forcing himself to be professional and hold his head up high, raking his fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath. He would have to be strong.

He could hardly tell how long he'd been waiting now, distracted each time by images he didn't need to see, didn't need to picture and he shook his head, telling himself that she was okay, that nothing had changed, that he would at the end of the day hold her in his arms, that she'd tell him what happened and explain it all, that it was not her fault.

After what seemed like eternity, his phone screen lit up, vibrating obnoxiously against the top of the dark wooden table, his heart skipping a beat when he accepted the call, his fingers trembling, his voice husky. “Serena.”

There was the rush of a car, distinct voices, shuffling. “Alex?” She called.

“Si?” He held his breath.

“We've got her.”  

[rescueonefinancialnet]

The Beast of Cairn Gorm by Mick Dark

The Beast of Cairn Gorm

By Mick Dark

Just over a 100km north of Inverness, Scotland in the small village of Braemar, on the Berriedale River, lived a gaelic speaking people of approximately 800. Raising cattle, farming and being good neighbours was the village’s primary mission statement. Winters remained dark and bitter but pints were rarely without gripped hands, thirsty gullets and high spirits. On one such night, a dozen or so frolicking and drunken Braemar folk kept a late hour at the Ox and Yolk Pub; an establishment in Braemar that was the pearl of the town. The pub, owned and operated by most the popular Braemar proprietor and primary instigator of Braemar wives’ angst Angus John MacDougall, rarely had its guitars and fiddles silenced and the laughter was perpetual. In the corner of the pub opposite the raging fireplace, Angus kept a piano that was rarely played and mostly used as a spot to lay your empty drinks. Angus saw to it that a doily was placed atop it to prevent any water damage. He bought it in Aberdeen at an auction and felt that it gave the place a bit of style but residents knew, as did he, that piano had no place in proper fiddle tunes. At least not here. Aila Gillis, the server kept the drinks flowing and was on her feeat for hours from the opening when dinner service started and the stews filled bellies and the chips never stopped, post-dinner. When Colin Kenworth laid his fiddle down to the boos of the few left, he did so with a smile and an apology. This was the dance. This was the routine each night. The music had to cease at some point and it was always to the yells of resistance of the patrons but they also knew that this signified their time to get the coats and hats on and head out into the crunchy snow and howling wind. After all, the wives would let them play for a while. Farming and cattle keeping was hard work and it was a trade-off. They would keep the peace and ensure that they had their nights of pints and repeated gaelic tales of northern prowess in hunting and iron guts that held their drink like no other.

The remaining din was a collective of goodbyes, stools scraped about the floor, the clanging of dishes and pint glasses collected and coats being slipped on. A few laughs for the remaining 8 patrons that typically saw to the close of the place and cutting through the jolly ambience was a shriek that some would claim to have shook the tables and the empty glasses upon them. This unknown noise repeated one more time, seconds after, and this time, it already had won its silence as to remain as clear as possible. Heads turned to each other with a look of shock and disbelief.

“What was that, does anyone know”? Colin spoke up. Being the most sober of the bunch, outside of Aila and Angus, he knew that this was not a trick of the mind and it was clear to him that it was no sound that he’d ever heard before.

“My jesus, Angus….is that Edward MacLeod’s cattle next door being attacked? Those fooking wolves have been growing some big bollocks on them since we started working on the turbines” Aila shouted. Angus, who had stopped frozen in his nightly closing bar wipe down. “Jesus, Aila, I dunno….that’s not a cow, no….more like an eagle but they aren’t that loud and aren’t around at night” He replied.

The patrons stopped and there seemed to be no rush to get out into the night. Gordon Allen Logan, the youngest of the crew had been working for the past year with his father, Glen, on the new wind turbine that one of the big companies had started installing into the countryside. It provided dozens of new jobs for the folks in Braemar and surrounding villages across the river. They were hearty folks and could be relied upon for the tough jobs that no southerners would go near in the winter. Gordon exclaimed “well, I’m to gittin home and fetching my rifle and I’ll find out because if it’s wolves, we can’t lose more livestock”…..Gordon started moving towards the door. His arm was firmly grabbed by Colin. “Shrink yer bollocks down, lad…nobody should be getting out there yet. Just wait a second, there”. The shriek repeated loudly and with a higher tone and it was followed by the scream of a man…..a scream that had as much fear washed over it as you could imagine. This made knees buckle inside the pub. Angus had not seen any of these lads afraid before. Not like this. It was not meant to be obvious but they were caught off guard. The shriek and the scream ended. It was hard to tell the distance but it was no more than 300, maybe 200 metres away. It was distant but none of them had ever heard a man scream that loud. That was pure terror in his heart.

“CHRIST ALMIGHTY, WHAT IS HAPPENING, LADS? WHO WAS THAT??, WHAT WAS THAT?!” yelped Danny Christie. Danny was a Northern Irish expat engineer from County Armagh that had moved to Braemar to take up the management of the energy center being used to monitor the wind turbines. “It’s fookin madness! That would have awoken the town”

“Me by’s, I need to get back to the missus! She’s alone! I need to get out of this place and back home!!” added David MacCullough…..a part time guitar player at the pub and manager of the local grocer…..”the wife is alone with the baby and for sure as Christ, she’d be off her tits with this racket. I have to go, lads….”

And with that, he grabbed his coat and pushed through the door before anyone could protest or hold him back. The wind forced its heavy whistle into the pub on the door opening and with a slam, forced by the same wind….David was heard running through the snow. The crunching was fast and his panting almost as loud….and after a half a minute, it all faded into the distance. He couldn’t be seen for the frost on the dirty stained-glass windows. Others had the same idea but were more interested in attempting to decipher the mysterious animal. It was a beast, for certain.

Michael Coy, the oldest of the residents was a long time resident farmer that spent nearly 8 decades watching Braemar grow into the village it is today from thick woods and spacious meadows and rolling hills, alongside a rushing river. Back then it was home to only 28 residents, 6 homesteads including his own up on the village’s highest point. His father built the home in the early 1900s and Michael made it a point of pride to take very good care of it along with the 40 acres of farm surrounding it. He built an adjacent barn for the ox and chickens. The other original residents had passed away many years ago.

Michael slumped into his seat, clutching his long tobacco stained beard. He was staring onto the floor, seemingly distracted and clearly nervous and distraught. He was shaking enough to be noticeable but not out of sorts to those that new him. Shaking was a human disorder you accept when you are a man of 78. Danny seemed to have been the only one in the pub that noticed the distress of the elderly man. A distress that was beyond a mere rumbling of nerves.

“Michael Coy, by jaysus…are you alright old man?” Danny leaned in and whispered to Old Mick Coy.

Slowly rotating his wide-open gaze, he moved to meet Danny’s concerned face. “I’m fine, just a bit tired, son and I’ll have to be moving on. I may have left the barn door open and that wind is a real bastard tonight. I …. I don’t want to risk the livestock freezing overnight if this snap freezes up the generator” Danny found this explanation to be quite cosmetic. There was something in Coy’s voice, the tremble and slow, measured words that made it sound a bit made up. “Coy, tell me what’s botherin ya…it’s not the chickens, I know this b’y. You are not one to leave anything open or prepared” Danny added.

Just then, from just outside the pub at what must have been just inside no more than 50 metres inside the tree line….a deafening shrill, a high pitched beastly scream that put everyone into their seats and some with a bright whimper from a fear, unexpected. The lights seemed to have flickered but from the sudden fright, it could have been a trick of the eye. This time, it was accompanied by a constant panting and low growl. Whispering as loudly as possible but with clear intention, now, that detection is not favourable…..Angus asked young Gordon to turn off the light at the front door while Angus turned off the kitchen light, leaving a lantern burning on the piano. Gordon decided that bolting the door wouldn’t hurt either. The latch slid shut and the group knew that this was something new, something extraordinary and something terrible and dangerous. The silence filled the pub if you didn’t count the collective din of hard breathing and beating hearts. Angus reached under the bar to the bottom and slid out a rifle that was once used for deer and Elk but found far more practical for the threat of wolves that got too close to the visitors outside in the summer when he had a few tables in front.

Michael Coy pulled his wool hat down and covered his eyes. This went unnoticed by no-one.

“For the love of jesus, Michael….what’s eating you?” said Colin. The rest vocalized their concern also. Michael was afraid of nothing. Hard as the peak of Ben Nevis and as fearless as a Hebrides Bull. He was being devoured by fear now. This was a canary in a coalmine for the lads that watched this pillar become a puddle.

Michael pulled up his wool stocking cap to reveal his deep, blue bloodshot eyes, awash with a light mist of tears that he wiped as quickly as he could. He took a slow breath and wiped forward on his lap as a distraction reflex….”I’m alright by’s….just had a bit much of the drink and the tummy is not feeling too good from the fish” he proclaimed. “I’ll have you know that Tommy Dylan and Raymond Campbell caught that fish fresh today out on the ice! There was nothing wrong with the fish!” Aila protested. “Speak up old man” Angus said. “What’s gotten into you?”

Michael slowly stood up, holding onto the shoulder of Danny Christie and his cane in the other hand….made a little “oof” sound and slowly walked towards the bar and leaned into it, his back to the group….a light growl and branches snapping was heard outside from the same distance as before. This turned all heads and made Michael grab a bar stool with his squeezing, white knuckled hands.

“I’ve heard this before” Michael said softly….then slowly turning to meet the eyes that had just settled back on him, from the direction of the door. “It was a long time ago, maybe 50 years or so but I know this sound and it’s been imprinted in my brain b’ys.. Not something I’d soon forget although would give anything to be able to” Michael continued. “When my father’s father broke ground here for the very home of mine that you’ve all been to, up on the hill…it took a grand deal of wood and diggin’. We cleared out a lot of wood and spooked away a lot of wildlife and my grandfather used to tell me that we take the space that we need and not a shovelful more. We kept to that until my father passed away. After he was buried, we came home and the first thing that came to mind was to extend the farm and make space for the barn that now lies 40 metres from the house and being a 25 year old young man that never really paid much attention to my elders…..I declined my father and grandfather’s wishes of not expanding or using more of the highlands to stake my claim on the rest of the land that we owned by deed but did not exploit. I felt that this was my damned lot and I wanted to use it for as much as I could reap from it. So, I did, with the help of some hired local boys from nearby Brora that had the tools and carriages that I needed to get the job done” Michael, stared into the door ahead of him and paused. He walked slowly back to his seat on the bench next to Danny and blew some heat into his hands. Not a sound was made from the lads.

“I was warned to not take more. I remembered only then, in my twenties, a story that my grandfather told me about the Beast of Cairn Gorm - he called it - that lived in the caves on the highest point of the Cairn Gorm somewhere nearly a kilometre up the mount. It terrified me as a child….but even as a cheeky story that I felt was a tale of the retributions of over indulgence, it seemed a bit extraordinary and one that, to me, was clearly crafted within the mind of an old Highland man. It was an old gaelic tale that was whispered about between the kids and when brought up, in fun, the faces of the adults turned to scorn and sharp shushes. We kids felt that the adults just played the game well.” He continued.

“So, I had forgotten that story for two decades until the first of my 40 acres were cleared away and tills came in to cut up the soil, while I worked on the large barn I focused on…..that some very peculiar activities started happening. See, I was the only home in the area of a few dozen residents that wasn’t happy with the confines of the small home and wanted more. I wish that I hadn’t” Michael took a sip of the forgotten about last bit of his Tennent’s that wasn’t yet collected by Aila. The rest of the folks started to quietly pick up their chairs and get closer to Michael to keep the rest of the tale as covert as possible from any terrible ears outside of the pub. Gordon lightly ensured the lock was in place while Angus came from around the bar with his rifle, stoked the fire to make sure it didn’t go out in this bitterly cold night.

“One night in October, after opening up a bottle of cider that was gifted to us in celebration of the new land development that we completed during two months, my wife and I sat at our kitchen table after a lovely dinner – of what, I don’t remember now – and that was when we heard this terrible sound for the first time – this sound”. Michael pointed to the space beyond the pub. “In utter shock, my wife dropped the bottle onto our wooden floor and it bounced around. I remember being angry at the bottle while it rolled. It seemed illogical but I was focused on the sound and when the bottle had come to a stop at the foot of the wood stove….we could hear loud footsteps and the cracking of large branches. Then, that is when we heard our cows scream. If you haven’t heard a cow scream, then I envy you. This was terror. Pure terror in the animals’ voices. We heard them being slaughtered not 30 yards away. I grabbed my gun, a pocket full of shells and rushed on my boots and ran outside. I was terrified but I needed to do something. There was something killing my livestock. I ran to the newly built barn and the door had been pried open. The animals’ entrails and skin and flesh were strewn across my barn. I could not tell which were pigs, cows or lamb. All were ripped apart. Then I heard this shriek come from just outside the rear of the barn…..followed by a guttural roar. I ran outside, my heart was pounding and I thought I would faint from fear….but to the back of the barn, the shriek again! I saw a massive beast bent over with matted fur which could only have been from the blood of my animals…..it’s eyes were shining in the moonlight and it was panting and growling in a low vibration, staring directly at me. It must have been 7 or 8 foot tall, long ears fallen to the side of its head but with sharp teeth that protruded from its maw and down to it’s chin. Then, suddenly, to my left near the house, my wife screamed. She had been standing on the porch and had noticed this monster. It immediately noticed her and began to speed towards her on all fours. This was no animal I have ever seen or knew of its existence. It was fast and was about to descend upon my wife. Why did you scream, woman!?, I had shouted at her in my stress.

I raised my shotgun as quickly as I could and landed a shot into its lower back which sent it rolling across the yard of my house and I added another to its neck. It sounded a piercing yelp and looked at me with a malice that reduced me to jelly. Then quickly reloaded with the shells from my pocket and shot again, this time missing it entirely. I was shaking. I was physically vibrating.

It was down and not moving except for its head that was intent on me and while I took aim with my last shell, it roared at me with its fanged mouth wide open. It was certainly perturbed with the holes I had put into it. The surprise of the shriek made me drop my gun. My hands were drenched in sweat and I was lucky to have landed any shots at all with my shakes and sweat covered hands. My wife ran inside and it rose to its feet and took a step towards me as I scrambled for the shotgun on the darkened grassy yard. Then I finally felt it and picked it up. When I looked up, the beast had run off. It was moving fast away from us and it was emitting yelps of pain and growls of rage. I didn’t care. It was gone.” Michael then let out a long sigh, reliving his night those 50+ years ago feeling the relief that he felt that night and then rose his head suddenly to attention and looked towards the door of the pub. He then came back to reality.

It was back, Michael knew this. It had obviously killed…that one man whoever it was in the distance. It doesn’t matter. For certain, they would have known him. He would have been a friend. All the village were friends. The community ousted no one. No even Ethel MacDonough, the town loudmouth and gossiper, would no one want any harm to come to…..but how many more lives were lost this night?

Michael continued to an attentive storytelling session of listeners “It came back three more times during that month but seemed to remain a spectator…we heard its growls in the night and the crashing of the brush and branches within the tree line beyond the crops. We had our gun at the ready and had some folks bring me up a new rifle that was semi-automatic from Glasgow that I don’t think was really legal.”

“I know what you mean`” Danny added. “I lived a few years in Belfast, Michael. Remember?” and tried to attempt a cheeky, comforting smile. Michael hardly paid any attention as he continued.

“We had been told….warned… to leave the land alone. We were told tales of a bogeyman that were laughable, at best, but were told to leave the land alone and take only what was enough for your and your family. I want you to know, I was not being greedy. I wanted to provide food for mine and was just glad that the beast had disappeared for years after and that was when I had my daughter Isabelle. She was only 5 years old around the time when the area attracted new settlers and….they started to build the town” he explained.

“but Michael….you mean your son Michael Jr….Micky Alexander ….your son that works at the docks now in Liverpool….right, you don’t have a daughter” Angus interrupted.

“Please, Angus…..” Michael hushed Angus with a calming hand gesture “let me finish”…..

The Old Man observed the faces around him, with a final glance to the space around the front of the bar. Listening. Seems that only Michael could hear the low breathing that accompanied his survey.

“that damn thing would not give up!” Michael insisted. “the villagers did not help the situation with the constant build and razing of meadows, woodland and river space. I did not blame them. They were not aware. If I had told them, how would they accept this fairy tale when a child of 5 thought it to be pure haver…gibberish?? I asked them, during one town meeting, that perhaps they leave some of the natural space for the habitat of the wildlife so we don’t drive away the elk, rabbits and deer. We would need food and they also help the fertility of the land for crops. I was voted down. They wanted mills and lumber yards and needed to pull in the riverbanks for boat passages. This was not going to end well. I hoped that mine was not connected to my childhood warning and this monstrosity was a one-time occurrence. It was not” Michael’s head bowed. He had trouble catching his breath and coughed twice. This brought about a sound much closer to the pub that sounded like a demonic recognition of an old friend. A low mooing sound. Deep and unnatural. The group inside froze and trembled. Angus gripped his rifle and pulled it close to his chest. There was silence for nearly 10 minutes after this….Michael wanted to hurry back to his final bit of the story. His cautionary tale that was past caution.

“The wind turbines. The town had grown so much back then in such a short time and remained unmoved for so long that I had not considered this until I heard this thing tonight. We have just ripped apart untold stretches of land – at least 80 km – to install cabling and these behemoths for the energy of a few Glaswegians. I didn’t think about this. It would have been through many villages now to make its way here tonight. I promise you that lives were lost this night. It is not finished. The destruction of the land it surveys creates a seething rage. I’ll be honest, I am not sure why it has stalled outside. It is what I tell you. This is beyond doubt. The question is if we will survive as I did that night long ago. My daughter did not. It took her away from me” Michael lamented, glossy eyed.

“After the town had been built up and there were dances and fiddles blaring and the newly erected halls were alit with merry and cheer….it made its way to us. It was always in the dark of night. Never in the day. It came to us while the town was asleep. Screams rang out across the village as it tore from home to home. Some homes were smashed into and we lost 6 of our folk. When it came to me, I heard it first outside, howling….I heard the claws raking across the trees. It wanted my attention. I knew what it was. I know that it remembered me. My wife peeked outside and I begged her to hold her stress. We could not risk this beast getting inside. We turned off the lights. It wanted revenge I have no doubt. Not just for the raping of its land but for the wounding of it years before. I believe that the reason it held back was also because I believe that it had some small measure of fear which caused its hesitation.

My little girl woke and began screaming. I grabbed my rifle and flashlight and ran outside to make some attempt to take this thing on. Whether I was killed or not, it would not get to my family. I got to the front porch. There is was, staring into my little girl’s bedroom. It was as massive as I remembered. I screamed at it in such a rage that I frightened myself. I was ready to wrestle it to the ground if I had to. I shot at it again. It shrieked at me and slammed it’s claws at the house as the bullet hit. This time, the shoulder. It seemed to make it more enraged” Michael grit his teeth and spit out the next sentence with tears.

“it smashed my little Isabella’s window. The window exploded and it rushed into the room while I scrambled after it screaming, crying, wailing while my wife screamed from behind me and raced behind me, falling into the mud at the bottom of the steps….I got the window in less than a second, it felt. The beast had my daughter in its claws” Michael paused, wiped a tear, another sip from a now empty pint. Danny handed him his for that final sip. Gordon and Colin placed arms around Michael Coy while he finished his tale.

“There was blood covering its right arm as it spread a wide fanged grin across its face. This thing was a mass of rage filled instinct, I knew but at this moment, it was personal. I knew this. I pointed my gun at it and because Isabelle was small, I knew I could get its leg or foot to disable it for a moment to reach Isabelle. I raised the gun and immediately, it let out a scream as it stretched its head towards me to focus its anger towards me. My wife and daughter screamed in unison while I fired. I barely grazed its leg. It didn’t even flinch. It rushed towards me while I raised my Enfield for another shot and it knocked me to the ground and sent my rifle flying. It flew off into the forest. I could hear the screams of my little Isabelle fading into the distance. I gave chase as long as my legs could and I heard nothing. Was beaten down by branches in my face and roots tripping me up in the pitch dark. I lay in the bog, wailing uncontrollably. Screaming for my little girl for hours until I had to get back to my wife that was beyond comfort. We spent years in a haze. We could not stop considering the hundreds of versions of Isabelle’s fate. It plagued us. 7 years later, Mary got pregnant with Michael Alexander. We put up a large fence but we vowed to stay and not give up our land. I have added to my gun collection and we raised Michael without incident for the rest of our lives, until now” Michael concluded. The lads were all tear filled and with heads bowed and felt Michael’s pain. Aila, head in hands, weeped quietly near the fire with her back to the rest.

“Fook sake Michael….I’m sorry lad. I didn’t know” Angus declared. Colin, Danny, Angus, Aila, Gordon and the other boys Arthur and Dennis, brothers who patroned the pub every Saturday evening, looked at each other and asked Michael what could be done and what are we expecting.

“We must make a stand. We cannot let this get any further. We cannot let it take any more innocent lives” Michael asserted. “what weapons do you have, Angus?”

“I have a pistol in the drawer of the desk in back and this here rifle”. I have some knives in the little kitchen in the back if they are of any use but can’t imagine you’d get close enough to use, by your account” Angus replied.

The group each took whatever they could. Michael refused a weapon while Danny took the pistol and various items – knives, a cricket bat and a fire poker and snow shovel were grabbed up. They moved towards the front. The low breathing was not far from them, on the other side of that paint chipped, three-inch-thick cedar door. The lads tried to get a peek again through the stained-glass window but could see nothing.

Danny took a deep breath, paused and slowly unbolted the door and gripped its handle. There was a paralyzing fear amongst the group at what they would see and less of what it could do.

The door creaked open. Angus and the others had never heard that creak before. The pub was usually full of life and song and laughter that this unwelcome noise had not existed. The door slowly fulfilled its action to bring in a bluster of wind and light snow. The snow in front of them was luminated white and shining from the one light that positioned itself at the start of the lane that had guided so many staggering souls back to their safe and warm beds.

There was nothing outside but the blackness of a tree line and the last steps of David’s rush home. David never made it home, it was later learned. Found in a ditch off the path, less than 150 metres from the pub. The group scanned the perimeter and listened. Nothing.

Then a low growl attracted their attention in a cumulative snap of heads towards the left of the tree line, near Angus’ bobcat tractor used for snow removal. There it was. Eyes alight, nearly 8 foot tall. Staring at its prey. Its eyes projected a sense of determination. They stood paralysed. They gripped their weapons, white knuckled, all. Angus raised his rifle. Waiting for a shot. Danny was first. Danny, a crack shot, fired his pistol at it, hitting it straight into the head. The precision of an IRA soldier. A former life that was extinguished and escaped from.

The beast howled into the sky and clutched at its eye where the bullet seemed to hit. Then Angus fired and hit the snowplow window “Ah fuck!” he shouted. Even during this, he momentarily realized that he had smashed his own window. Then fired another and hit its chest while Danny pushed forward through the snow, pistol at eye level firing every last bullet into the beast while it attempted to run. Courage found itself in the team as they all pushed forward knowing that Danny had provided an advantage. They got close to it. Michael stayed back at the pub door. He watched. He wanted his revenge but he knew that his old legs would not be able to catch up.

“Da…..daddy……” a female voice came from behind Michael, in the empty pub. Michael gasped and spun around. This little voice was etched in his memory and it would be if he lived to be 5000 years old. Tears gushed from his eyes and he peered across the pub. Nothing. There was nothing. He fell to his knees, sobbing. He needed closure. This was, certainly, his past begging for him to make amends somehow.

He rose up, he moved outside to the group that had surrounded the wounded beast. It was on its haunches, covering its head. Danny had pointed his final bullet towards its head and was ready to pull the trigger when Michael, who appeared behind him quietly, placed a frail hand on Danny’s and took the pistol.

The beast then uncovered itself and looked directly into the eyes of Michael Coy. Old enemies. A lifetime journey of hell steered by this fur clad nightmare. It grinned with that same wide fanged mouth. Its mouth was covered in blood from its night of savage brutality. Many Isabelle’s were cut down this evening. The beast gave out a final shriek and a sudden swipe of its claw took off Michael’s arm but not before that final blast. Blood filled the air as Michael Coy’s arm flew across the sky. It was hard to distinguish between the shriek of the beast, the gun shot and the scream from old Michael Coy. The beast collapsed to the ground. A fountain of blood gushed from its head while Michael lay in the snow, filling it with blood while Danny and Angus grabbed him and began to pull him back towards the pub. Dragging Michael leaving a trail of blood across the snow. The rest of the group screamed and stabbed and beat the flailing demonic creature until it was nothing more than a hair covered mass in the snow. The group made its stand at the behest of Michael Coy. Michael got his revenge but at the price of his life. The old man, lay bleeding to death. Bar cloths and coats held the blood to a minimum but it couldn’t be stopped. Michael offered the group a last look and a vague smile and looked up, imagining his lovely wife Mary and daughter Isabelle before he joined them. The group then burned the beast and dumped the remains into the river using Angus’ bobcat plow.

The following weeks, there were stories of what the villagers had seen. The pub group had made a promise to leave the story alone. To keep it to themselves forever. It would do no good to cause a furor and also risk being ostracized as drunken fools with wild imaginations. Michael was said to have been attacked by wolves on his way home. An old man that was easy prey for the scavenging packs that had been pushed into the village due to the overextension of the land development. Four years after the night’s deadly occurrences. The Scottish government had decided to bring investment to Braemar and the villages of Aberdeenshire and provide new jobs with a large-scale highway project. There would be a new Council highway moving through the north. The new mayor of Braemar had brokered this deal and was proud to be leading this new development. The villagers that new the truth, including Danny, Angus, Aila, Colin, Gordon, Arthur and Dennis were not against it. They knew that their bogeyman had been dealt with and this was a welcome new chapter for the area. As long as the village kept its community, there was no objection.

Six months into the rapidly moving infrastructure project, 160km of forest was razed and rivers were bridged and Aberdeenshire was hardly recognized anymore. This would make for easier access to the larger towns and cities for supplies and medical visits. Over 200 new jobs were created for the project and it would last another 3 years, it was projected.

It was at the end of this six months that there were shrieks across the countryside. Higher pitched shrieks. This was soon followed by the loss of many project workers, then children. Then sightings of many half human monstrosities with fangs and claws moving very fast across fields and wood. Some claimed to have seen 4 at once moving quickly across the land and some seen feeding on livestock. The beast had been given a family. The slaughter was far reaching, merciless and quick. Their directives were instinctive and none were spared.

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[chloepalmerblog]

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[perkoform]

Opinion Piece:Copyright Issue:

FOREWORD

All my stories are called ‘you gave it away’. As in: you gave away the story line, do you get it? Haha, anyways, and they will be published in volumes with numbers indicating that they are in fact different to each uvahs, just with the same title, is all. So like, ‘you gave it away: vol. I’, ‘you gave it away vol. II’, etcetera. That’s the full pronounced etc., not the shortening. All my best sellers start with this title. All of them, oh yes. Hm hm. But don’t worry! I know what the public need in a good read, do you know what I mean, I mean, a good literary hook line sinker. Thrills. Spills. Also detailed explanations just for the prying eye to get every gory little cunt of a detail, strangle the last drop a juice outta there and make up rounds of hot steaming gossip served up on a stainless steel tray with little walls to keep one meal separate from the other. Oh yes, we keep that separation when we give it all away, like the ending and the climax, ha ha oh yeah…so, don’t. worry. I gave my editor a bow and arrow with a rope tied to the end one day to batten down best seller, cannot let giant escape. Must feed best seller many pigs and barrels of wine, for its gargantuan size proportion, sustenance and pleasure.

Bigger people have more blood in their bodies and the rotary pump fookin’ poomps weigh harderr too (heard in Scottish). It pumps over fields a kind of real-estate-agent n’ all them fields may grow. In this film clip I saw about man who had laid down on a beach and afterward cut out his heart. In this movie I saw where these people darnced around an bon fire then cut out mans’ heart and threw it in that fire and when sacrifice-man tried to call the cops they rock up and simply join in too. Morbid. In this song I heard about Hannibal Lecter, and this other one about ST. Martens College, he doesn’t know why but he started it somewhere, I think he gave it away. For a best seller. Damn capitalist. Hm hm. Anywho, do you like to party? Oh thank god the relief. A bit and above board, li’, well ajoosted an sooch (kind of English accentuation). Those nice guys who squat about tigers. When I take drugs they’re legal in my immediate consciousness, but the one less accessible consciousness of my mind must dabble only in prescription. Heh, do you get what I mean? Where do choice come from, is it same place as baby? Is it same place as glitter? Is it maybe same place as dog medication? Who knows. Msg me. 04 fuck sakes 789. 989 is the extension (of perfect friendship and harmonious incorporation). Do you get it?

The small man screamed, “I’ll leave you in HELL!!”

The big man whispers, and keeps you small.

You say, “ugh, effeminate!”

No I say it but with a different tone.

I am a…puppet. I am a…monster-mash. I am a…know what to say, gets a ‘very pleasing’ in reaction. I am a…1-2-3. I am a…quick be me! I am a…dabbler only in subconscious prescription. That’s right batter up, prescribe, next one in line, come one come all, one by one (eventually…).

Download as e-book, subscribe, fuck right off? You know, any…  

This whole thing about human interaction is definitely “similar to predictive text”, I mean that’ll probably do hey. Like once I get to know you and everyfing…so like we’re just robots that kind of assume shit and are correct like 80? Percent of the time? Yeah? Yeah that’s so the Amedeo Path, pfft. I guess it depends how well you know some other guys’ reactions, your friends’ (reactions) I mean. Minimalism is go-wing two clean up this shit, and so is comedy made by Jewish (looking?) Americans, and also…I don’t know any writers…PLATO, yes, Plato will clean this up. This Nietzschery, like, stream of consciousness vomit nightmare like that is like, giving you a weird anxiety that seems to like, lie in the muds around here as well, though… unless you don’t feel that way, phew. Un-de-tectable hm hm…wink. It’s because of the heart cutting-outing cult mentioning thing. Awful.

I stop, I think, haha I do reeeeaaallly come on, I stop and think…REALLY!   Heh reeeeeally…I found a piece of tyre on the side off the road from a big truck that…popped its tyre and so there were little bits of it left about the road…side. I got my foot stuck in a fence. I wasn’t fence sitting, my foot was stuck, had every intention of climbing right over, and everything. oh yes, right over to the ‘other side’ whoa…where grassy around around around, so much greener. Oh my god the worst thing in the fucking world happened to my housemate AGAAAAAIIIIN, OH NoooOOOO. That’s how I swear when I break an actual leg or like, lose millions in shares, not a spoonful of sugar…quen? Holy fuck the ridicule like stares back out at you from like where it is, staring, back at you…

You have less than 50MB left…I never read the rest of the sentence. I want to make up the rest of the sentence, it goes – on your credit account with Vodafone. Do you need money at the start of the week yet get paid at the end?

 MAIN STORY

I went walking along the side of, then I found, and when I got there you’d never believe the size of the thing. So I was halfway across a bridge in town near a coffee shop on a hill with a view of a bridge and there was water underneath it. And so, I went strolling along the water there. I was over and under and over and under. All around my eyes followed on with the rivulets and the water flashed and trickled by the moonlight in the dark dark night near the house gate. Someone went on past me and ahead of myself, and they were walking quite quickly and I could not catch up unless by jogging rather briskly, and what long legs they had like they were ten feet tall, towering above me like a tree shadow, wobbly and faint. They turn a corner and no, not any longer.

Waiting a while. Bang bang. Rise flames.

Onward onward, when there was a hoot and a wing and a star. A fog rose and in I went, out from the cold into a place. (flaming tinkle). Bar at 9:30pm. Nineteen-eighties box television, heavy grey brown colour. (brown corn). Very fuzzy reception in the lobby for the waiting people to watch. Americans are good people. The folk in the village are good good.

 I have no booking. Make one. Nearly home from about here. Still wondered why and got no response because the other guy thought it was okay and all the rest, if you know what he meant, to say to you when he saw you last time around. Never mind bother. Don’t. So up there on the stairs over through the carpeted hall where the key fits the right door and my head hit that ol’ pillow, nothing more said, it’s a done deal with a smile.

My father was always the early riser, heh heh, in the family.  Awful stuff it was, sickly green muck, glop of some description, and it was definitely…oh my god is it dead? Ohh…it’s dead…outside is nice I thought today. Outside of this head mess! Get out banish bequeath, scatter, go! Around and around the chu-chu train for my pleasure was coming for me, I’m scared of. Not long now but that was just when and they were so delighted to find out and moon and sun and huff huff huff. Hello, they all said, utterly stoked. Laughter. In disbelief, took off his hat to his heart and so sincere a nicely man. Back I am at home in my cradle of memorial liveliness, with the souvenir I put on your shelf that had some space, atop of it. Oh you, there. Love. love.

The welcome mat, the doggy lil’ barking, Stolen. Bunt. Scone. Bread. Pancake. Jam drop ha ha ha oh yes mother fed me up. Big cuppa tea and my ol’ gurl who we love dearest always is where the heart is time to go fishing ,a spot of it. Off he went. Over the bridge, past one in every town (couldn’t get away quick enough little legs swollen swelt puffing, hanky, oh sir may I? Not). Everyone Isme. In Isme’s eyes. up and down and up and ohp, up there bit my pinky, it was fun for the whole family sunset.

Next day: long forgotten.

And the next day: to forget.

I still remember how to. Been a while, but I can remember, now. I spent so much of the time, doing it and all that time I have not forgotten yet, and tomorrow, to work, to make. And that is, this is the life. Hum de day, the life.

What about the time? That’s age old there, let ‘value’ have its way with you, making children humble and installed in all the hearts and minds you can get up to with a big stick and scream Pinata Pinata!

So I have this the work to do, the food in the ol’ bel’, but what about when did it last time on the news on the T.V. or at the homemakers centre? What year are we speaking with? Where is the day is it? Who? Flashing television drone I don’t know why this is happening. Pang so hard to fight it! Zap. Zap. Someone kill the button and get away from it! Snooze.

Getting to, it all came to a head one day when I found out by the familys’ friendly lawyer that the advertisement jingle was actually a 1920s show tune you’d bother with dead. I came up with that how did they fall on the same day? was I blanking a horrible panging memory back from, I demand a genius grant.(?) Prove it they said to the mystics, anyway.

The story is written that I exactly majicked the, very same tune in my own little head. So what would compel you to blimming, rip me off?! He said from his grave he enquires by channelling the lawyer in an office-style séance?! I never heard it before in me life. I swore. Who has the rights to this equipment, like the skills or the interest in investing, let’s take her for a spin. Jingling keys, ya know…and so I say, I don’t know sir why, I blimming ripped you off okay! A dabbler with no real musical talent or like that is something obscure. Like, so obscure, I couldn’t believe my very ears and sorry, which Dutch master wrote that? La la la buy – a – roasted – cock – from – joe’s cock – shop - la la la. Sounds just like it, a real chip off the ol’ jinglin’ block. Heh. But anyways I must’ve heard it, somewhere, definitely as a child. Would’ve got away with it. Plagiarism can not be sailin’ me away like hog in fat house. I whisper to you, “they tell me I’m crazy in about three seconds, three, two…”

“We’ll just get the right to the song and um, it’s like a reference.” Said the lawyer, “oh no, she’s dead, you killed her, they know…”

Ol’ Maud would have it, see, she’s families with the old Dutch Master ghost and she’ll put me out of work but in her Will. Score. I studied and have a music degree today, every day, really. Well when the gun went off I forgot.  Heh. That’s what I remembered reading in the headlines and like the idea is that there’s a fetish and some thing about like, sound vibrations and humberts’ painful memories. All the rest, I shot her in her home on a Tuesday, in the sunshine while the house burnt down as I sputter some tear water and bite my lip and wring my hands like a good New Yorker Jew (not affiliated). Piñata Piñata! Ha ha this time, quietly…now I’m fit to marry. Said the Sir, who took me on my day trip from street to home van back down the rabbit hole. That’s where they put the trash can for faulty this and faulty that and it’s never really good fuckin’ enough fuckin’ is it?! Mutha fuckor.

But I can’t remember where I heard that, again when the scientists might want to know that. The first step is admitting that. Okay. Yeah, tell us how they found out you did killed ol’ glutton-for-royalties-Maud. I mean (I woke up like this) it’s flawless to the lie-detector anyways.

What I’m trying to say is ‘the fires of hell aren’t hot-hot-hot enough, to burn Maud’s skull till nothing’s left a ha’, to burn-that bullet hole, so, I was caught and arrested yah’, oh sing it with me. I suck at this, nice place the loony bin. Food water bedding, flash-television washing cars away, down live-stream.

It’s so pathetic story, it’s just about dodgey un-well-thought-out murder fraud, written all hweird (hwhiskey). It reminds me of guy who kill Peter Parker’s uncle’s life story or something. No one cares or goes that in depth into those character’s lives dude. Sub-psycho reptilian over fiend who’ll escape jail by opening an alternative plane of reality with crystal that play jingle on radio (while you escape, it’s a short walk) if you stick crystal in a lemon or however. And one day…he’ll resurrect Maud who has the knowledge of the sacred jingle songh, and is the key for the final throe. What about Dutch Master, has no problem with women after all. “Hey the reptilian totally mocked the human raaaaace…” ( I said that in slow motion, like, my voice sounded deeper heh)

Making me sound smart and funny and fresh, is how these medications work on yo system. They work and work like miners in a mine, mining. Through the brain cell around the memory of the jingles shape in my brain and the gun fire and the heart disease tablets are also very good indeed for my health. Well-being is most important, around, around, around, and rest. Nice and grassy, tall fence. The doctors wiping off sweat from brow, riled up, had altercation, but he’s okay now. Prescribed for me something…I can’t feel my face. Snooze.

I remembered today, I wrote it in pen on the poster with flower drawings and felt happy, do you?

Like staringat black.macks oueew forrgett