My offering for this week's Coldly Calculating prompt at Our Write Side.
Sherry sat on the back porch listening to the newly opened leaves shuffle against each other in the gusty spring air. She loved the smell of fresh growth. Though this morning it was tainted with the strong flavor of bleach..
She sighed, it couldn’t be helped. In the end, bleach was the only answer. Some things just couldn’t be washed away with soap and water. At least not entirely.
She rose from her seat and headed for the garage. Once there, she searched the neatly organized shelves. “Ah! There you are!” she grinned as she bent to retrieve the mason jar filled with the soft blue hue chosen for her bedroom. “And he thought I was silly to save some of the paint.”
Rummaging further, Sherry found a paint brush. it had been carefully cleaned and stored after use. She glanced around the garage contentedly. Everything neat and tidy. Just as it should be.
She took the brush and jar inside. Refusing to be distracted by the clutter in the kitchen, Sherry strode purposefully into the bedroom. It would only take a few minutes to touch up the spots left by the scouring pad.
After she finished, she scurried through the kitchen once more; only taking time to toss the blue tinged brush at the sink. Once the jar was tucked safely back on its shelf in the garage, she took a deep breath. The kitchen would have to be tackled next. The longer she left it, the more stressed she’d get.
As Sherry crossed the yard, she was momentarily mesmerized by the movement of three sheets waving lazily in the breeze. They were secured to the line with her grandmother’s old clothespins. She smiled. No hint of stain was visible in the bright spring sunshine.
Now, on to the kitchen she told herself. With lips pressed in a determined line, she stepped into the space.
He’d thought he surprise her with a spaghetti dinner. It had been thoughtful of him she supposed. But what could he have been thinking? Leaving puddles of sauce on her normally spotless stove. And so many pans crusted with filth in her shiny sink.
Sherry swallowed the bile and dove into the task.
Well, at least it wasn’t a mistake he’d make again.
I took a stab at the Fractured Friday prompt at Our Write Side this week. The challenge was to take a famous love triangle and mix it up, change the story a bit. I chose the Arthurian trio; Guinevere, Lancelot, and of course the King himself, Arthur.
“Lance, babe. He’s the King.”
Lancelot frowned at his fiance, “So what? How does that give him the right to claim you? There’s plenty of other girls out there. Available girls.” Lance paused and stared at Guinevere with narrowed eyes, “unless…you lobbied for his attention!”
‘Vere eye-rolled a sigh. “Really Lance, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. Maids and fancy dresses. And riches! Hey, don’t worry, we can still see each other.”
“We can ‘see’ each other?” Lance snorted, “Right, I’ll wave as you roll by in the royal carriage on your way to the royal bed.”
“Don’t be an oaf, Lancelot! Marrying the King is politics. We can still, you know, be together. It’s common practice, all the kings have mistresses, I’ll have you.” She batted her lashes at her erstwhile boyfriend. “It’ll be exciting!”
Lancelot grunted, he knew his arguments were in vain. His Guinevere had always acted like royalty. Well, being the Queen was as royal as it gets. “Fine ‘Vere, be the Queen, but I’m not sitting at your knee like a pet dog.”
“Of course not, silly man. I already told Arty how special you are. He’s going to make you a knight!” ‘Vere clapped her hands in delight at her own ingenuity.
“Oh yeah? With armor and stuff?” Lance began to smile, “that’ll be cool, ‘Vere, good idea!
*****
Lancelot knelt before his King. Excalibur touched each shoulder in the solemn ceremony of knighthood.
“Rise, Sir Lancelot! Knight of the Round Table.” Arthur’s words echoed around the hall.
Lance rose, beaming giddily within Arthur’s embrace. As the celebrations began, he found the Queen and reached to give her a hug of thanks.
She dodged his grasp. “Not here, Lance!” she whispered. “I’ll send for you later. Go now, party hearty!” Then, she slipped away.
Lance sighed in resignation and returned to the festivities. After a few flagons of mead and a couple of hours of merry making, he was feeling more optimistic. As the party wound down he readied himself to retire to his quarters where he’d await the Queen’s summons.
He approached Arthur to make his good-night and reiterate his thanks.
“Ah, Sir Lancelot! I’m glad I caught you.” The King smiled at him, “how quickly can you suit up and saddle your steed?”
“Sire?”
“I have an important task for you. A dragon needs slaying, my boy! It’s already eaten two of my best knights. But, the Queen assures me you are the best of the best.” The King waited as Lancelot hesitated, “come along, Sir Knight, time to get a move on!”
*****
‘Vere hummed to herself as she brushed her golden curls. She donned her prettiest nightgown in anticipation. When the knock at her door came, she jumped up and hurried to greet her lover.
She threw the door open, ready to throw herself at Lance. It took great effort to maintain the smile she was wearing.
“My Queen, you look lovely tonight,” Arthur said dryly as he walked past her into the bed chamber.
Guinevere followed numbly, her heart trembled as the King removed his robes.
Can you stand another tale of Joe and Charlie, the two slightly inept demon's? I just can't help myself sometimes
Linked up with Coldly Calculating at Our Write Side
“Where we going Joe?”
“Home Charlie, the Boss finally got us outta that witches nest, and I need a break.”
“So…what're we doing in limbo land?”
“What? What are you talking about”? Joe looked around. His partner was right, the land was hazy and soft, no recognizable landmarks. “Oh man. This just isn’t right.”
“You're tellin’ me! I didn’t like this place the first time, it ain't got no better.” Charlie stumbled over a step hidden in the gray swirl that flowed through the landscape in random patterns.
Joe tried to remember the first time he was stuck here. It had taken forever to get out. As his memories coalesced, his eyes widened. “Charlie, you remember where we came in?”
“No, I’m just lookin’ for a way out.”
“Don't look too hard Charlie,” Joe backed up, he peered through the fog looking for the door he’d just entered.
“Uh, why?” Charlie stopped exploring and edged closer to Joe.
“Do you remember what happened when you found your way ‘out’ the first time?”
“Um, let me see, I found a key somewheres, then tripped a dozen times on all this crap laying around. Busted my snout more than once.” Charlie had a bad habit of reliving his memories while he talked, “Ow! Dammit! Just like that,” he said as he pushed himself off the ground.
“Hey! Look Joe, I found the key!”
“No Charlie! Throw it away! We don’t want the key!”
“What?”
Before Joe could grab the key and throw it, a doorway gleamed red-gold two yards from them. “Oh no.”
“There Joe, just like last time, the way out!”
Joe rolled his eyes, “Charlie, that’s not the way out.”
“It’s not?”
Joe walked toward the door, resigned to the inevitable. The Boss was evidently still mad at them.
“No Charlie, it’s the way in. This is limbo?”
“Yeahhh…”
Joe just sighed.
“Oh. OH!, Joe I don’t wanna!” Charlie wailed.
Joe grabbed Charlie's arm and pulled him forward. “C’mon. No going back, which one’s next? Do you remember? Lust or gluttony?”
Another stab at Master Class Monday at Our Write Side
Fiona ran through the forest. A stark landscape of naked trees and fresh snowfall kept her within full view of her pursuers. Her breath blew puffs of steam as her feet crunched the ice crusted snow. She didn’t dare look behind her. If she could see their eyes she knew it was the end of her run.
Her feet were numb, the boots not tall enough to keep the snow from soaking her socks. Bushes and fallen branches conspired to throw Fiona to the ground. Fear was her friend, it gave adrenal fueled strength to her tiring legs. But fear couldn’t change the landscape.
While Fiona scanned the ground in front of her, she failed to mark the sudden end of the tree-line. She tumbled down a steep bank and hit the frozen river hard. Scrambling on the icy surface, she regained her feet. Finally, she turned to look behind.
Most of the hunting party stood at the top of the bank. Two of their number carefully descended to the river’s edge and tested the footing before moving toward her.
She uttered a hopeless moan, then turned toward the opposite bank. She moved her feet in an awkward sliding run as the watchers laughed at her attempt to elude them. The two behind her didn’t move any faster. As she crossed the center she glanced between her feet and gasped at the view of running water only inches below the ice.
A groan sounded from beneath, ending her wide eyed stare and she pushed her body forward. Fiona threw herself across the ice as an ear shattering crack echoed along the river. The treacherous heaving of the failing ice propelled her forward. The water roared as the river broke through the frozen blanket. She raced the free flowing water across the ice. The small floe she stood upon tilted back toward the frigid depths. In terror she thrust her arms forward, grasping for a miracle, and found a low-hanging branch. She gripped the rough bark and dragged herself up the empty bank.
Over the sound of the rushing water she heard the screams of the pair that had followed her. Their cries punctuated by fainter curses from the other bank. She looked back as the river embraced the men and carried them downstream. She met the eyes of their captain across the gap, felt the hatred sharp as a physical blow.
Panting with exhaustion, Fiona broke the gaze and ran into the next forest of naked trees and fresh fallen snow.
I've missed Anne Marie. She whispers to me at night, it's time to let her out for a while.
My offering for Master Class Monday at Our Write Side
Anne Marie listened intently for a repetition of the cracking of leaves behind her. Though she heard no new sound, she silently circled back. The iron broadsword in her grip hummed in anticipation. She sniffed the air; was that a hint of fresh blood on the breeze?
From tree to tree she crept forward, homing in on the scent. As she neared her target she heard the whisper of soft breaths. And something else…rhythmic tapping, so soft she almost missed it.
Anne Marie stopped, a memory tickled at her. A thing forgotten, a thing she needed to know.
She tested the breeze again. The blood odor was thicker and foul. And another smell...sulfur. Her eyebrows rose as well as the hair at the nape of her neck.
With only the old iron blade, did she dare to confront the thing lying in wait? For it was certainly waiting for her.
Still soft, the tapping continued, insistent and no longer just ahead but all around.
‘Too late to turn back,’ she told herself, ‘she knows I’m here.’
Anne Marie stood straight and sheathed the sword.
Three more steps brought her into the circle. Its guardian smiled a welcome as it beckoned her to the center most spot.
She smirked back at the daemon; it wouldn’t be the first time she'd stood at the crossroad to oblivion. Nor would it be the last.
Linking again with Master Class Monday at Our Write Side with a bit of bizarre art.
Buddy supposed he ought to clean out the cellar. He'd left it it go far too long. It was part of the job he wasn’t going enjoy. The rest of the work was so fascinating. Watching the process happen kept him rapt with wonder and fair amount of pride.
The steps he followed with such meticulous care, from choosing the perfect specimen to knowing when to end the project. Over thinking and the subsequent tweaking had been the source of much disappointment early in his career.
Now he knew when to leave it alone and let nature finish the job. That was so evident in his latest work. Buddy stood in front of his masterpiece basking in the pleasure that results from a job well done.
He wanted desperately to share this one, it was that damned good.
Before he could set up the display he would absolutely have to dispose of the others. They would be too shoddy next to his latest.
He sucked a deep breath of resolve and grabbed his cleaning supplies along with a large stack of trash bags then bounded down the steps.
When Buddy flicked the light on its glow shone on the tangled pile stored in the corner. He released a sad sigh at the sight. How could he ever have thought them beautiful.
He reached the first of the pile. He'd had hope for this one. Her petite frame and sassy red hair had survived the drying process well, but as time went on her skin had continued to shrink. The result was protruding joints, particularly knees and elbows. As she shrunk, her body hair proved to be difficult to maintain.
He shook his head, over thinking had been his downfall. As he toiled through the pile he giggled. His works resembled a mound of gnarled monkeys. Knobby joints on withered limbs covered in coarse hair.
He had finally realized the obvious, remove the hair right after death. And the most important part, make sure to let them drink all the water they wanted before killing them. Keep that hide plumped and then dry them out slowly. That kept the natural shrinkage to a minimum.
Yes by golly, the round figured blond upstairs was the perfect specimen. The rest? Well, they'd just have to go.
I chose the "nefarious playmate" from Master Class Monday over at Our Write Side.
This one is longer (much) than my norm.
Barbie was sick of it.
“Hey, Hot Pockets! Can I git another hot kiss here?” The guffaws from the rest of the old men at the table finally pushed her over the edge.
She pasted a simpering smile on her face, grabbed the coffee pot, and sashayed to the table. “Sure you can, Joe.” She whispered next to his ear as she poured the contents into his lap.
Joe’s screams and the hollering of his cronies summoned Harley, the manager, into the dining room at the same time Barbie slammed the pot on the table. As glass shards flew into the midst of the men she untied her apron. It dropped to the floor scattering quarters and dollar bills underfoot. Before Harley could open his mouth she shoved her fist into it.
She took time to smile at the group before saying, “I quit!” as she flipped the bird at the now speechless men; excluding Joe who was still bawling in pain. Then she calmly walked out the front door.
She walked the three blocks to her walk-up apartment unlocking the door just as an ambulance sped back toward the diner. Her roommate, Christie was sprawled on the stained couch eating chips. Looking up as Barbie slammed the door she quickly wiped the greasy salt on the arm and sat upright.
“You're home early.”
Barbie checked the opposite end of the couch for crumbs and bugs before she threw herself down. “Yeah. I am.”
Christie settled back with another handful of chips, “Dirty old man disrespect you again?”
“Yep.”
“Did you tell him to knock it off?”
“Sorta.”
“So, your grease ball of a boss fire you?” Christie asked.
Barbie snorted, “I quit.”
“You quit? How you gonna pay your share of the rent?” Christie sat up again spilling chips on the filthy rug.
“My share? How about you get off your lazy ass and pay the rent for a change.” Barbie cast a scathing look at Christie. “Seems I’ve been paying more than my share for quite a while.”
Christie frowned, “you know I been lookin’!”
Well I know where you can get a waitress job today.” Barbie jumped from the couch and headed to the kitchenette. As she expected the cupboards were empty. “Thought you were going to the store today,” she yelled into the other room.
“Yeah, I am, but I need more cash than the ten I got.” Christie poked her head cautiously through the doorway. “You make good tips today?”
“Don’t know, I left them behind.” She settled for a warm can of soda and returned to her corner of the couch. “If anybody knocks don’t answer the door.”
“What?” Christie looked at the door then back to her roomie. “Who are you expecting?”
“Cops”
“Aw, shit, girl, what did you do?” Christie crossed to the door and peeked out the front window. The street in front of the walk-up was empty, for the moment.
“I mighta poured coffee on ol’ Joe’s hardware.” She grinned humorlessly as Christie’s eyes widened.
“Oh, lord.” After another peek out the window, Christie turned back to Barbie. “He was a good tipper, you sure it was worth it?”
Barbie replayed the multitude of sexually inappropriate remarks Joe had spewed regarding her butt and boobs over the past four months. Each time he spoke his fan club of wannabe perverts laughed at her blushes and stammered appeals to him to please stop. Her eyes narrowed as she answered Christie, “It damn sure was.”
The young women stared at each other for several minutes before bursting in fits of giggles.
Christie grabbed Barbie’s soda and took a long gulp before clapping her on the back, “I’ll bet he hollered, wish I’d been there to see it.”
“He didn’t just holler, he screamed like a, a girl!” Barbie swiped the laughter induced tears from her eyes and yanked the drink can back and drained it in one swallow.
Catching their breath after the fit of glee was over, they sat silently. Barbie knew getting another job would be tough, it had taken forever to find the one she’d just left. She knew Christie really had been looking, but the Podunk town they lived in didn’t have much to offer. And after her own stunt, it was unlikely any of the locals would hire her.
Christie considered going to the diner next morning and filling out an application, but the minute she wrote her address down, she was sure it would end up round-filed.
“Maybe we oughta just leave this shit hole behind and go somewhere new,” Christie suggested.
Barbie rolled her eyes, “Like where?”
As Christie shrugged a rap on the door made both girls jump. “Shh, don’t answer!” Barbie whispered frantically.
Christie nodded as she sidled to the window and carefully peeked out. “It’s that grill cook from the diner!” she told Barbie quietly.
Barbie’s face screwed into a snarl, “That loser? What does he want?”
Christie cracked the door open, “What d’ya want?” she asked the lanky boy on the steps.
“To see if Barbie is alright.” He craned his neck to look past Christie and seeing Barbie he waved and said, “Nice work back there! They hauled that old fart out on stretcher, he was still holdin’ his balls and cryin’ like a baby.”
Barbie joined Christie at the doorway, “Yeah, I'm fine, they really called an ambulance? Hey, you didn’t bring the cops, did you?”
“No, just me.”
Christie opened the door wider and let him in, “Well get in here before they show up.”
“They ain’t goin' to. I told 'em Joe was playin' grab ass and the coffee got spilt accidental. And then Barbie ran off embarrassed.” He grinned and told Barbie, “Those two old ladies that you hate was in there, they backed me up.”
“Why’d they do that?” Barbie figured the old hags disliked her as much as she did them.
“'Cause they don’t like Joe more than they don’t like you I guess.”
“Huh. Well, hey, thanks.”
The three stood awkwardly looking at each other. Finally the boy said, “I’m Luke by the way, don’t know if you knew my name or not. You gotta beer or pop?”
“Uh, yeah, I knew your name, and we don’t have anything to drink, we just finished the last soda.”
“Oh. Then let’s go get some! My truck’s down there, we’ll get a six pack or two and go celebrate.”
Barbie noticed when he grinned he was better looking than she remembered. While Christie tried to think of an excuse to refuse Barbie smile at Luke, “Okay, let’s go!”
Soon the three were driving around on gravel roads outside the small town. Halfway through the case of brew they had decided on Luke made a suggestion. “I got keys to the diner, we can go raid the cooler…and maybe the till.”
Christie yanked her gaze away from the scenery outside the passenger window, “Oh that sounds like a very bad idea…”
“I think it sounds great!” Barbie slurred. “Serve that scuz Harley right! I tol’ him Joe was a pervert and he never did nothin' ‘ bout it.”
“Yeah I know, and you know what else? I know where Joe lives. An’ he’s got money at his place too. He owes you girl!”
Barbie leaned into Luke’s shoulder, “Yeah, he does. He owes me.”
Christy looked at the pair, “You guys are wasted, and crazy! Barbie, you didn’t want cops and this sure sounds like a good way to attract them. Let’s just go back home and watch TV, OK?”
Luke shot Christie a curious glance, “you wanna go home, fine. We’ll drop you off.”
Christy nodded, maybe she could talk them into the apartment once they got there.
She let herself in as the truck’s tires squealed off carrying Barbie and her new nefarious playmate into the night. She hadn’t been able to convince them to give up on Luke’s plan. Christy curled into the corner of couch and waited for Barbie to come back.
A shove on her shoulder prodded her from sleep. Still on the couch she looked up expecting her roommate to be frantic about breaking into the diner. Instead Barbie and Luke were grinning at her. In the dim light she could see Barbie swaying,, a beer clutched in her hand. As her sight focused she could see both were covered in spatters of red.
Luke swung the hammer nonchalantly, “You shoulda come with us. It was awesome.”
A small teaser for the Nano project. Inspired by a prompt from Master Class Monday at Our Write Side
Trey listened to RJ’s plan with only half of his attention. The third of their cohorts, Clarence, was in the corner of the tent unconscious.
Their captors had left them to stew for more time than he’d expected. Probably hoping one or another would cook up some escape plan and create an excuse to beat them up again. Trey preferred not to go that route.
“Dude, are you even listening to me?” RJ punched him in the arm.
“Yeah, and I’m thinking.” Trey muttered.
RJ rolled his eyes, “Your thinking is interfering with the listening.” He got up and paced the small confines of the tent.
“Well, whatever we decide, we should wait for Clarence to wake up.” Trey walked over to check on his friend for the tenth time in the last hour. “He seems to be breathing okay.” Trey prodded him gently, He was answered with a groan and shift in position, but nothing more.
RJ looked on, “are you sure you want his opinion? He has a hazardous record in the planning thing. That’s why were stuck in here instead of back home at dinner with our families.”
Trey shrugged, “we could have said no. We made our own decisions.”
“I would've made a different decision if I’d know it meant traveling to a different dimension full of demons and spider people.” RJ gave Trey a look that dared him to disagree.
Although I'm in the middle of the chaos that is Nanowrimo, I couldn't resist revisiting Joe and Charlie. I hope Amanda doesn't roll her eyes too much as I used her prompt "fifteen minutes of fame" from Coldly Calculating over at Our Write Side.
Lily had several jobs for her enthralled demons. Joe and Charlie were starting to get desperate to escape.
“How’re we gonna get outta this, Joe?”
“Shut up! Let me think.”
“You been thinkin’ for weeks.”
“You been whinin’ for weeks!”
Charlie sighed heavily, “I don’t know how much more I can take, Joe.”
“I know, Charlie, I know. Ill figure it out, I promise.”
That evening Lily summoned them for another of her little tasks, as she called them. She gleefully spelled out the directions for this latest adventure then stood grinning as the star stud in her nose whirled wildly.
“You want us to rob a bank?!? Joe was incredulous.
Charlie was merely mortified, “No no no, this is not happening, it’s a dream. A very bad dream.”
“Yes, I want you to rob a bank.” Lily giggled. “And you'll do it, not like you have a choice or anything,”
Charlie continued to mumble, “Oh man oh man. This is so embarrassing.”
“Come along, pets, to the pentagram, I need to get you delivered.”
Several candles and an incantation later, the two found themselves materializing in the empty lobby of a nearby bank.
“Why didn’t she just put us in the vault, now we have to blast it open before we can get ‘poofed’ back to prison.” Another heavy sigh and slump of shoulder and Charlie headed toward the vault, tail dragging behind.
“Charlie, hold up!”
“What Joe? I just wanna get this ov…”
“No! I got it? Look up there Charlie.”
“What? Where?”
“Up there, security cameras!”
Charlie gave Joe a sidelong glance. “We don’t show up on tape, Joe.” Charlie shook his head, he’d never expected Joe to lose it first.
“We don’t, but dancing money bags will.” Joe rubbed his clawed hands together in anticipation.
“I still don’t get how that’ll help us.”
“”Think Charlie. Bank gets ripped off. Big headline. How long before someone leaks freaky security footage to the Internet and we get our fifteen minutes of fame?”
“So dancing money ends up on the webz.”
“Remember that time He locked us in that dressing room mirror for doing the macarena at Wally’s?” Joe grinned.
“Oh man! Don’t remind me, my eyes still burn.”
“Well, we’re gonna macarena hundred dollar bills all over the lobby!”
*****
Three weeks later in an opulent office, a minion interrupts his employers latest deal.
“Hey, boss?”
“Really? I’m kinda busy here, Dood.”
“I know boss, but I think you wanna see this. For real.”
“Alright, be right there.” Laying aside his golden pen, he cast a stern look at his guest, “Don’t go anywhere Donald, I’ll be right back.” He turned back to Dood, “This better be worth my time or you'll be the star of next years haunted playhouse.”
His flunky pointed to a wall of screens. Each one showed a grainy video being played on assorted venues. The leaked footage was trending on twitter. It had a Facebook fan page. It was the number one hit for Google searches of banks, hauntings, or the macarena. The news channels played it over and over.
“I think it’s them boss. But it don’t tell us where they went.”
He watched the assorted screens for several minutes before pointing at one slightly better image, “Zoom in on that one.” Leaning closer he ordered the footage stopped. “Right there. Get my coat, tell Mr. T. It’s his lucky day, I’ll catch up with him later.”
“What’d ya see boss?”
“The middle dancer, it was a peace lily.”
Another prompted piece with Master Class Monday at Our Write Side
We sat on the shore. No moon lit the night, as we nestled against each other shivering as the lake rippled in front of us. Its wavelets invisible in the dark.
There was no where left to run.
Our arms bruised by scraping against the trees behind us. Knees bleeding through our jeans from multiple falls while tripping through the underbrush.
Pursuers just steps behind away.
It had begun so routinely. A night out, no celebration, just a trip for something to eat. We hadn't reached our destination when we became aware of the footsteps behind us.
We stopped to look back, nothing to be seen. The steps stopped, just like in the movies.
We’re just imagining things, we said to each other. And started on our way again.
As did the steps.
We picked up our pace from a stroll to a fast walk. Finally to a run.
There was no traffic, the light from street lamps seemed dimmer than they should have been. They gave nothing away of the beasts behind us.
We pounded on doors. Though we heard movement inside, no one answered our screams for help.
So we continued to run.
The tiny woods enclosed us before we realized it. Initial panic was relieved by the thought we could lose them in the darkness. Until the branches cracked too close behind us.
Then came the race to escape blindly through the maze of trees.
By the time we reached the lake we understood they had just been toying with us. They could have had us at any time.
So we sat shivering on the shore. Holding each other, we whispered tearful goodbyes.
As we waited for the opulent sunrise to burn our flesh away.
This little bit of whimsy was prompted by the Coldly Calculating prompt at Our Write Side.
I really enjoy the choices they offer!
After their near damnation experience in the last house they’d infested, Joe and Charlie were relaxing in dubious comfort in a cluttered attic.
“Joe, what you want to do next? Scratching inside the walls or opening all the cabinet doors?”
“I wanna take a break, Charlie. We got plenty of time.”
“I’m bored Joe.”
“Jeez Charlie. Let me catch my breath.” Joe sighed deeply. “By the way, dude, you still stink of sweet grass.”
“I do not!” Charlie sniffed his arm and down the length of his tail. “Well, maybe that witch singed my tail fork when she shoved that burning bundle up the chimney after me.”
Ignoring Charlie, Joe started poking through one of the many boxes and suitcases stashed around the cramped space. Pawing through one lightly damaged trunk, he pulled out a shiny black cape.
“Look, Charlie. Halloween costumes.” Charlie joined him, grabbing a piece of fabric
“Wow, Joe! We can use these to scare the you know who outta the family here!” Charlie draped a yellowed toga over his head. “Booooo!”
“Look what you did! You snagged it on your horns, man.” Joe grabbed garment and threw it on the growing pile of clothing. “You need to take better care those, you don’t want to end up with a hang-horn.”
“Yeah, yeah, I could polish ‘em too.” Charlie stuck his head back into the nearly empty trunk. “Hey, what’s that?” Charlie reached for a small leather covered case at the bottom.
Joe slapped his hand, “Gimme that. I was here first.”Joe lifted the lid, the rusty hinges on the side protested only mildly. A rectangle of black velvet covered the contents. Joe unceremoniously brushed it aside.
“Augh!” Joe dropped the case and contents back to the bottom of the trunk.
“What man! What’s wrong.” Charlie peeked over the edge, “Holy Hell!” eyes wide, he scuttled backwards. At the bottom of the trunk, a silver handled athame lay haphazardly atop its case.
“Of all places, we wander into a nest of Wiccans.” Joe started to pace, “We need to get outta here, they figure out we’re here and who knows what kind of three ring circus they'll stir up.”
“Joe, calm down, if they was practicing, this stuff wouldn’t be up here, now would it?” Charlie looked nervously over his shoulder despite his words.
“Okay, yeah, you're probably right. They wouldn’t put something like that up here.” Joe closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to pull himself together. “We should move on anyway. Who knows what other…”
“Too late, boys.” The voice emanated form a dark shadow at the top of the attic stairs. “However you're right about the athame, there are no Wiccans practicing here. At least, not anymore. Their toys do come in handy though.” The speaker stepped forward revealing a teen-aged girl in full goth regalia.
“It’s a great early warning system, and…led you right into our trap.” As she spoke the girl bent and poured salt before her feet.
“Trap? What trap?” Joe had been taking the measure of the youngster and was building energy for a powerful demonic counter attack.
“Look around silly. You were so interested in rummaging through the garbage you missed the pentagram.” She grinned in delight. “And I just closed it.”
Joe barely heard as he loosed a fireball. Which immediately bounced back. Charlie yelled as he ducked the blazing missile. “OhmySatanohmySatanohmySatan!”
Joe drooped, out of the frying pan into hell. “So, what now?”
“Glad you asked,” she said brightly, “I’m Lily by the way. My friends and I have a job for you. It needs done tonight, so enough with chit-chat, come along now.”
“Tonight? How did you know you'd catch a demon tonight?”
“Sillies. Who do you think called that ghost hunter to the last house.” She skipped out of the room, Joe and Charlie dragged along by her spell. “And one of you stinks.”
Charlie muttered, “I do not.”
This time I linked up with the Coldly Calculating prompt from Our Write Side.
I may have missed the "chilling" mark, just a little.
Joe and Charlie huddled together in the corner. Ears tuned to the distant footsteps and mutterings of their pursuers.
It seemed they’d been slipping from one hiding spot to another for hours. Scurrying from room to room trying to stay one step ahead.
“We need to move again soon, Joe!”
“I know, man. They’re closing in again. I can smell the stink of their torches.”
The pair looked around wildly, seeking another safe place to hunker down. They stifled gags induced by the overwhelming odor of the leader’s smoking brand. Their hearts lurched as she screeched to her minions, “They’re in there! We have them now!”
With moments before the hunting party cut off their retreat, Joe and Charlie darted across the floor to the door.
“C’mon Charlie, down these stairs. We’ll lose them in the cellar.”
Coughing through the foul haze, the escapees stumbled down the steps.
“Where to now, Joe? We’re trapped!”
“Shut up! Here get under the stairs.”
The floor boards creaked overhead. Voices filtered down, “Where’d they go? Did they get out?”
“No, they’re still here. Up to the second floor! We’ll find them, they can’t hide from us forever.” Rushing footsteps faded farther into the house.
In the ensuing silence Joe and Charlie crept out from under the stairs. Listening intently for any movement they quietly climbed the steps and peered into the empty hall.
Joe whispered, “They're on the top floor now, Charlie. I think we lost them.”
“I don’t know Joe, it still reeks down here. I don’t think we’re outta the woods yet.”
“Shh, this way, c’mon.”
They stepped cautiously into a library. Over stuffed chairs cluttered the floor. Bookcases lined all but one wall filled by a massive fireplace.
The pair jumped in unison at the scream outside the door, “Aha! We have you now!” Pounding feet filled the room.
Charlie shrieked, “Joe! What now?”
Joe grabbed Charlie’s arm, dragging him to the hearth. He scattered ashes as he leapt into the flue, Charlie on his heels. Reaching the top, Joe pulled himself out the chimney and onto the roof.
“Hurry Charlie!”
“I’m stuck, Joe! I cant get through!”
“Give me your hand!” Joe pulled mightily, finally freeing his partner. Charlie’s release from the chimney resulted in an audible pop. The two slid down the roof and tumbled to the lawn.
“You could use to lose some fat there, Charlie.” Joe brushed himself off then sped ahead, Charlie right behind. As they ran for the street they heard the triumphant bellow of their hunter.
“THIS HOUSE IS CLEAN!”
Joe paused to turn around and make an obscene gesture before trotting on down the road.
Charlie puffed to keep up, almost tripping over his forked tail. “What now, Joe?”
“I don’t know yet, Charlie. Hey! Look over there, that place looks likely!”
Charlie sighed, “Back to square one.”
