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.”
Showing posts with label demon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label demon. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Caught!
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.”
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.”
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Witch's Desire
Trifecta: Week Seventy-FourCongratulations to the Weekend winners!
I'm continuing the story of the witch and the demon. It's a prologue of sorts for my Chaos in Progress.
Now on to the prompt...
1
a : a state of being beyond reason and self-control
b archaic : swoon
2
: a state of overwhelming emotion; especially : rapturous delight
Lillian congratulated herself on accomplishing the spell banish Aslozoth. When Lillian had first called her up, she'd been pleased to see a feminine demon. She'd thought that would make the control easier.
Far from it. Aslozoth had an agenda all her own. It hadn't taken long for her to exert control over Lillian. It was a subtle seduction, leaving Lillian breathless in the power of the magic she was shown. Each new spell required levels of ecstasy she had never thought she could attain. Each lesson accompanied by a touch, caress, stroke, evoking physical ecstasy, almost an addiction.
Yet, Lillian was satisfied. Until she spied the sword. The demon's blade that could buy her the allegiance of the chief of Clan MacClarren, the strongest clan on the moors. An allegiance to fulfill a different lust. Power over a nation.
Aslozoth's laugh at her plan was a cruel noise in her ears.
A witch of lesser will would have ducked her head and continued to be the demon's pet.
A witch of lesser will would never think to steal a demon's blade.
Lillian had a will of iron as hard as the sword she coveted.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Witchery
100 Word Song – Lucretia Macevil
As always, you have 7 days from NOW, to write 100 words inspired by Blood, Sweat, & Tears Lucretia Macevil. Please use Mr. Linky below to post your 100 then tweet, book o face, google +, smoke signal, pony express, or standard mail your 100 word song to everyone you know.
I've visited with the witch, Lillian and the demon, Aslogoth again. They each have a place in my Chaos in Progress. Neither are good by any stretch on my imagination.
Lillian wielded the mortar with increased vigor as the odor of char enveloped her.
Aslozoth pressed against Lillian's back, peering over her shoulder into the pestle. She absently ran clawed fingers down Lillian's arm, across her belly, tracing ever widening circles. Lillian shuddered with longing as the other hand slid from shoulder to hip.
"What potion is this, Witch?"
"Nothing special, Demon."
"You would banish me?" Aslozoth's whisper threatened to blister the skin of her neck. "Haven't I taught you... everything?"
Lillian hesitated, then spat, invoking the spell.
Aslozoth's fading chuckle taunted her. "I'll be waiting for your call, Lillian."
Friday, April 19, 2013
Semantics
Trifextra: Week Sixty-FourCongratulations to all the winners! Wish I'd had time (and energy) to visit and comment on every one.
I'm beginning to believe that most of mine are becoming character studies for my...uh,characters.
Anyway,
The Prompt:
This weekend we're asking for exactly 33 of your own words plus the following three words:
charge
century
lost
So 33 of yours plus 3 of ours means that everyone will have a 36 word response this time around.
"You lost my sword, Lillian?"
The demon bitch had been hounding her for the last century. "It's not lost, Aslozoth."
"Then, let me amend the charge, witch," Aslozoth's eyes burned red. "You stole my sword, Lillian?"
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Fishing
100 Word Song – Dirty Work
This week, Rene aka http://nottherockefellers.blogspot.com/, chose Steely Dan's Dirty Work.
Aslozoth reached into the murky bog. As her clawed fingers raked through the muck at the bottom, she admired the red glow of her eyes reflecting from the greasy water.
Finally her hand closed around the object of her search. She settled on the squelching bank, examining her treasure.
The dull, green orb weighed heavy in her grip. She turned it round slowly, peering at the pattern just beneath the surface.
"There you are, Lillian!" She drew one razor sharp claw down the stone. "Who's dirty work is this? That is some potent magic. Now... how to get you out."
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Working Girl
Write at the Merge, Week 12The Prompt: Speaking of legs… we’re offering you a photo and a song this week. Happy writing!
I chose the photo, and had a hard time coming up with something. As usual, I found the weird. Actually with help from the husband. Sometimes I wonder about him....
Terry swaggered up the street. She was late getting started this evening, she had to have an extra snort of powder to steel herself for another night of reading the johns. Her goal was surviving until morning. Too many girls had gone missing over the past month.
She rounded the corner, making her way to her favorite post, a street light in the center of the block. It would be a long night, traffic was unusually light.
As Terry neared the light pole, she slowed her stride. Someone else was under the light. It was a woman, her back turned to Terry, long legs in fish net stockings, perched atop impossibly high stiletto heels. The woman's body hugging shift grazed her knees.
"Not gonna get the homies that way," Terry muttered to herself. To the figure ahead she shouted, "Hey! Bitch! That's my track!"
She picked up her pace, "Imma kick your ass, bitch, get off my..." The figure turned, arms opened wide. Terry tried to stop her momentum as she saw the glowing red eyes, the only feature in the space that should have been a face.
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