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.
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?”
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.”
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.”
My offbeat offering for Coldy Calculating at Our Write Side where the Prompt was The Seven Dwarves.
What the hell happened? One minute I was peacefully relaxing in front of the campfire. Listening to the cicadas and tree frogs singing, entranced by the embers of the fire, lazy flames licking the remains of the logs I'd laid hours ago.
This little man meandered into view. Green shirt, yellow breeches, and the goofiest hat I'd ever seen. He introduce himself as Doc. He made himself comfortable, warming his chubby hands at my fire. Asked what I was doing out there all by myself.
I told him I wasn't by myself, my boyfriend would be back shortly. I may have lied. Even though I was pretty sure I could take him, I didn't think it wise to let him know I was alone.
He smiled knowingly. I felt a prick on my neck and poof, I woke up chained to a wall.
I wondered how the little fella got me here all by himself, until I met the rest of the gang. His six cohorts were dressed just like him. Green and yellow, and goofy hats. They even looked alike, bulbous noses, squinty eyes, and greasy smiles.
I didn't meet them all at once. And it took me some time to tell them apart. They seemed to take turns checking up on me. Bringing food and water. Or emptying the chamber pot they provided. They even gave me a brush and brought a damp cloth to wash with daily.
There was Happy, though Renfield might have been a better name, he giggled hysterically when I said anything, particularly if I asked him to let me go. So much for that.
Then Grouchy, what an understatement. He looked like he was just waiting for an excuse to beat the shit outta me. I chose not to test that theory.
The one that called himself Bashful was anything but. He had zero shyness with the hands. Constantly petting my hair, or touching my face. Made me shudder. Yuck.
I think Sneezy was worse though. Continually snotting and dripping all over. I didn't know what kind of plague he had, but I didn't want it. If he brought the food, I wouldn't eat it.
And Dopey, yeah. No explanation needed.
Sleepy, I couldn't figure out. He'd shuffled in, check my restraints. Yawn. Ask if I was thirsty. Yawn. No, he wouldn't let me go. Yawn. He head for the door, stretch and before he could muster up the energy to open it, drop to floor and catch a twenty minute nap. Not weird at all.
Today they haven't been here to bring food yet. I'm not sure if that's a good thing. The chains are still intact, and starving or dehydrating to death doesn't appeal to me. Also the pot is starting to stink.
Uh oh. I hear them, all of them. This cannot bode well.
Doc is the first one in the door. He's got a hypodermic. Not good. Not good at all. The rest are piling in behind him. Sleepy comes over and undoes the chains from the wall, Grouchy and Bashful grab my arms. Doc says if I cooperate he won't need to dope me. Sure, no problem, I can behave.
They're walking me through the woods now. I don't know where we're going, but I bet letting me go is not the plan.
What is that? The sunlight is glinting off something up ahead.
As we get closer I can see a dozen or so glass boxes.
Closer yet, I can see each box has a girl inside.
Oh hell no!
As I start to struggle, Happy starts his creepy high pitched giggling. Sleepy curls up snoring nearby as Dopey lights a joint. Sneezy has progressed to puking in the grass.
Grouchy is ready to clock me, and Bashful starts to rub my back. Yuck.
They drag me to the one empty box. Doc grins, and sticks the needle in my upper arm.
I feel the drug working. As the lid comes down, I scream with the last of my energy.
"Someday! You wait! Someday my prince will come!"
