Donnerstag, 12. Januar 2017

Unwilling Chapter 8 fixed

Hi there!
A helpful reader notified me to the bugs in Unwilling, chapter 8 and 9. I fixed those right away and repaired the link to chapter 10, so everything should be working again :)

Freitag, 9. September 2016

Writings on the Wall - Pt. 6

Writing spree, yay! A little more introduction for Luigi and a few hints towards his background. Want to take a guess as to his profession? :D
---


Patient is dangerous, erratic and has a tendency to harm himself and others. Patient has expressed his belief of being a prophet, angel or Moses himself, after a month-long phase of wearing women’s clothes and calling himself ‘the reborn Lilith’. Evidence of self-medication found.
~

“Who the hell are you?” he whispered with a trembling voice.
I shrugged. “I am Crave. I’ve got to go now.” And with those words, I turned and walked towards the river. Time to cash in my reward, and it better be a big one. They hadn’t told me I’d face a real one, a demon instead of a tainted mortal.
I was halfway through the garden when Adonis finally caught up with me. “Wait! We’re not done here!”
The Dark was still clinging to the plants, but it looked tired now, like a bullheaded, old geezer clinging to his condemned house. “You are out of bullets,” I reminded the man with the gun and hopped over a garden hose that slithered like a snake. It couldn’t really move, of course, but it tried very hard nonetheless.
He hopped after me out of instinct, throwing a glance down to make sure he didn’t touch the hose as he did so, and grabbed my arm, pulling me around and slapping the back of my head with his other hand. “What are you trying to do, swim in handcuffs? You’ll drown.”
I looked down at the shiny metal around my wrists and tilted my head. I had forgotten about those, they were comfy now that they were warm. The tickling in my nose came back, almost eliciting a sneeze from me before my mucous membranes started to swell and closed up my nose. Sniffing, I held up my hands to him and made an expectant face. He had the key, after all.
Another frown rippled over his classic face, then he snorted derisively. “If you actually think I’ll just take them off and let you go, no questions asked, you’re sorely mistaken.”
He grabbed the short chain between the cuffs, but only to turn around and drag me after him, keeping me at arm’s length to hold me in check. I still had no idea who my Adonis was, but his actions and the way he moved told me enough to be careful. He knew how to fight and how to protect himself. Also, the suit. Fighters in suits were, as a rule of thumb, serious business and not to be messed with.
I stumbled after him silently, relishing the switch from corrupt vegetation to nice, clean, scalpel-blade-ish lawn as we closed in on the now familiar back door with the broken window next to it. The phone in the neighbor’s house behind us started ringing, clearly audible through the crisp winter night.
“Cops will be here, soon,” Adonis mumbled, shoving me into his— if it was his— house and closing the door quietly behind us. “You’d better start talking before they come by here and ask questions I can’t answer.”
I blinked at a swirl of blue in the white marble floor, frozen in stone for eternity. “Or we could go swimming before they come by,” I replied, not really offering an opinion but rather speaking my mind. The fuzzy, flitting threads of thought in my brain were hard to catch, like flies— once I had one in hand, I hated to let it go to waste.
Adonis pointed down to the floor, where glass shards speckled with now dry blood stains lay scattered over the marble like pieces of a puzzle. “You swimming away won’t stop the police from hunting you,” he explained with a frown, trying to sound patient when he didn’t feel like it.
Oh, right. My blood was still here. I tipped and turned my head sideways to watch the glittering lights bounce off the almost dry drops of blood, letting my subconscious wander. Adonis was chattering on, walking up and down beside me, gesturing around as he explained things I neither understood nor cared about. I didn’t listen to him. Bleach. That was what I needed. I’d find it in the cleaning closet or the cellar, maybe beneath the sink if this house had a kitchen. Humming a tune that somehow matched the spots of light on the glass shards and the blood, I trudged away to find the kitchen, the cellar- if this house had such a thing- and a closet.
Adonis grabbed my shoulder to stop me, but it didn’t last long. The doorbell rang, followed by fists on wood as the policemen hammered their hands against the front door, calling their usual hymn of “Police, open up,” and “Mister Cave, are you in there?”
Humming on, I waited. Patience was all I needed, for Adonis couldn’t very well let them kick in his door without having to explain things he really didn’t want to explain. At the second round of knocking, he let go of me and cursed, stomping towards the front door and once again hissing words towards me that I didn’t listen to. I simply continued with my search and sheer luck would have it that the first door I opened actually was a kitchen. It wasn’t easy to open the canister of bleach with my hands in cuffs, but I managed.
Adonis was still arguing with the po-po, holding the door slightly ajar to block their line of sight and keep me hidden. And to hide the tire iron he held in his right hand, ready to use.
I softly whistled the same nonsensical melody I usually used to drown out the splash of piss on the toilet, as I emptied the bleach all over the shards and my blood. I was just about to drop the canister into the mess, when I finally heard something that caught my attention after all.
“Mister Provenzano, either you let us in or we come in against your will,” said a female voice with a hint of green smoothies in her tone.
A male voice intervened with a nervous hiss, resembling switchblades and packs of coke on a shameful night. “Are you crazy? Do you want to get us killed?”
I hugged the empty bleach bottle to my chest and sucked a piece of afternoon patty from between my teeth. I, personally, knew why I was careful of Adonis, what with him being a suit-fighter and therefor especially vicious and all, but ‘the Man’ usually toughed things like that out, bullheaded as officers were. One of them acted like I expected them to, the other didn’t, but what did that mean?
The lady cop piped up again. “I’m not afraid and I don’t care who he or Mr. Cave are to the Pergliotti family! Yes I know who you are, don’t give me that smarmy look,— get your damn hands off me, Josh!”
I hugged the bottle tighter at the sound of a tame skirmish. Adonis, Provenzano, whatever his name was, stood in the gap between me and the police officers, calm as cucumbers. I saw flailing hands fluttering by above his shoulders, and something rattled against the door as shuffling steps left the front porch. Mister Josh was obviously physically wrestling his lady cop partner away. It took all of his concentration to do so, he didn’t even say goodbye as he threw her in the car. The sounds of their fight were muffled down to a droning background noise as Adonis closed the door.
My tongue played with a natural flap of skin in my cheek as I watched his suit jacket throw wrinkles above his ass, mulling over what to do next.
Adonis closed the door and turned around, looking appropriately gruff as he glanced at me and the mess I had made. The bleach spread lazily, tinting the marble pink as it dissolved the blood and lapped against the soles of my boots, creeping towards a dried, bloody footprint in front of a dark vanity set to one side of the roomy hallway. The stench burned in my nose, but it also opened it enough to enable me to breathe through it again.
“So my neighbor was a cannibal. And you were sent to kill him.”
I gnawed at my lower lip, ducking my head. Was that what it had looked like to a normal person? Interesting. It made sense and probably wasn’t much better to look at than my vision of the scene, but that had been a full-blown demon, not a tainted person. I usually tried to stay as far away as possible from those, not only because of how blatantly evil they were. Demons always sought for a climax of violence and chaos, to sow as much destruction for as long as possible. A run-of-the-mill fetid guy could live his whole life and never hurt a hair on anyone’s body. Under normal circumstances, I might as well have killed someone who looked totally innocent to Adonis’ eyes, and I bet that wouldn’t have gone this smoothly. I had been incredibly lucky to have things turn out as they had.
“He was a demon. He was so much a demon, he had his own garden of rot mold growing on his Klimt rip-offs, and a little tar river of Dark through his sun room. And he had warts,” I replied. “I don’t like demons. I wouldn’t have taken the hit if I had known.”
Confusion and dismay warred on his face as he regarded me with a tilted head. His thoughts concerning me pranced through his facial expressions like proud little ponies, but I looked for pity in vain. At last, he sighed and wiped his face tersely.
“Whatever. The police will be swarming this place and the neighbor’s home in minutes. It would be better if you weren’t here when that happens, so I’ve got to make a few calls. I’ll take you home to my place and hide you there until this has blown over, but you’ll still have to answer my questions when I’m done here. I want to know what the hell is going on, and you will tell me.”
“So no swimming?” Yes, I still held on to that thought, it was hard to let go.
“No swimming,” he confirmed, frowned and pointed at the sea of bleach. “Wipe that up and get rid of the glass, while I make my calls.”

In the end, he had to help me clean up. I had no idea how to use a mop and my definition of getting rid of glass was kicking it under the vanity set, but once he showed me how to use a broom and where the dumpster was, I did alright. He didn’t take off the cuffs and he didn’t leave me alone long enough to make myself scarce and try my luck with the river, but I was happy enough next to him for now.
The cleaning took all but ten minutes, but in that time, half a dozen police cars, an ambulance and even the coroner arrived and stormed through the neighbors house, an event I watched through the kitchen window until Adonis pulled me back and sharply ordered me to stay next to the stairs where I couldn’t be seen from next door. He loaded his gun with new bullets, throwing me a disdainful glance when I frowned, and all but jumped at the sound of the doorbell, nervously ushering the visitor in.
The man, an olive-skinned, pot-bellied man with a bad shave and sweat stains around his pits waited until the door was closed, but not a second longer. “What in God’s name is going on, Luigi? The police frequencies are all but exploding with chatter about a double homicide, Tony almost had a stroke when you called!”
Again that accent, thicker this time. And I finally had a name for my Adonis. Luigi, like Mario’s brother, but without the green overalls. I sat down on the second lowest step, clinking around with the handcuffs and trying not to let my mind drift away too far.
“And who is that?”
“That would take too long to explain. Which I will do, Bruno, I promise, but not now. Right now, I’ve got to get him back to my apartment and make sure he doesn’t bolt. Then I’ll come back and deal with the disaster next door and explain everything to you. Can you stay here until then? Keep the officers out?”
Bruno grumbled and shuffled, a strange habitual move that looked faintly familiar, then shrugged and nodded gruffly. “A fine job you did of sitting Mr. Cave’s house. Pray that your explanation is good enough to satisfy me, or I’ll have you back on street rounds faster than lightning,” he threatened and turned away.
Luigi sighed, then gestured for me to stand up and follow him as he led the way out the front door and straight towards a rather nice limousine. I did follow his lead, but my eyes were glued to the shiny blue and red lights blinking through the night and hunting shadows across the neighboring houses and trees. It was a pretty sight.
“Don’t gawk, move it,” Luigi hissed next to my ear, grabbed the chain of my handcuffs and dragged me to the car, ignoring my half-uttered protests as he shoved me into the back. He almost threw the car door closed, but hesitated when he saw the shiny wooden baseball bat I was currently sharing the seats with, squirming to stop it from digging into my hip. He stared at it for a moment, as if wondering where it had come from.
“Is that blood on the top?” I asked curiously, leaning forward to examine my find closer. I had once seen a bum being hit with such a thing. He hadn’t gotten up after.
“Don’t touch that,” Luigi barked and grabbed the bat to pull it out of my reach. He shut the door and walked around to the driver side, hiding the piece of wood against his long leg, and stowed it on the passenger seat as he crawled behind the wheel.
As the car awoke to life, I pondered the riddle that was Luigi. A man in a suit, with a gun, a bloody bat in the car, a strange accent he shared with his friends, and surprising influence on the police. And he hadn’t insulted me yet, even though he had seen me at my almost worst. More importantly, he had killed at my command, had he not? I felt like a princess. The swerving of the car lulled me, but I felt for my head a few times, just in case my tiara might fall off. All princesses had tiaras, right? And “Cake,” I mused. “I want cake, not bread.”
“Oh, shut up already.”

Mittwoch, 24. August 2016

I'm continuing Unwilling!

... Margo still stood in the entrance, but a few of her fingers twitched, pointing to those inside the roadhouse. It had to be some kind of code, because a few of the men switched positions and one of them even elbowed his way past Darwin, Mary and George to reach the back door.“You are trespassing on my personal property and I’m asking you to leave. You’re not welcome here,” she said in a tone of voice that suggested she herself didn’t believe they would listen.Then the world sped up past the point Darwin could follow. A bark from outside marked Carl’s command to charge, Mary screamed and the back door and front windows shattered as warm bodies barreled through them.A shuddering breath later, a half dozen of guns and rifles awoke to life and screamed death against the invaders....

Yep, I found my mojo. 1.9k and counting! I've got the plot laid out and I'm feeding it with whatever comes to mind. Wish me luck!

Sonntag, 21. August 2016

Hello dearies!

Remember my split personality? Well, I'm trying to get more attention for my author's blog, since I'm still trying to close down this blog slowly as to not hurt anyone's feelings. I don't want you to leave me, after all :)
I started a poll on said author's blog so you can help me sift through my millions of ideas and decide what I should write after "Writings on the Wall" and "Bending the Unbreakable". I'm also inviting you to leave a comment and suggest what kind of story you'd like to read most.
You can find the poll on the top right side beneath my Google+ badge here:


Please click and vote!

Dienstag, 9. August 2016

Happy, happy, happy!

Good news, Shapeshifter enthusiasts: This puppy is done, yeah!

I achieved so much in the last two weeks, I'm still spinning, but this has to be my most proud moment yet. I finally finished the epilogue to this story and wrapped a few threads up - additionally, I laid enough foundation to break ground for a second part in Noom's and Kelaste's story, if I ever feel like continuing it.
I also finished my application to university for my lectureship major and entrance exams will be at the end of August, but that kind of pales next to my joy over my writing achievements :D

Unwilling is still in the brain-mill and I'm struggling with the last few chapters, but I won't give up easily. Darwin and Jared will get their happy for now, one way or the other!

Montag, 1. August 2016

"Writings on the Wall" now on Gay Authors!

To put a little bit of pressure on myself, I started publishing "Writings on the Wall" on GayAuthors.org. I'd be very happy if you took the time to write a review :)

Freitag, 29. Juli 2016

Writings on the Wall - Pt. 5

“Don’t listen to him, the man has been placed under disability for the last ten years. He’s only out on the streets because he keeps slipping his orderlies and there’s not enough money to put him into a more secure facility.”
~

I stared down at the handcuffs. “Why do you have police issue cuffs in your pants?”
Adonis, concentrating on tightening the cuffs, shrugged his broad, dress shirt clad shoulders. “They are the best on the market.”
I was wearing casual garment from one of the boys’ rooms. They were twin boys, as my captor explained to me, about sixteen years old and my size, which made for a exciting excursion into two full-size sets of closets. I had a chance to look at myself in one of the closet door mirrors, and I looked freakish. Clean and all, no holes in the dark blue jeans, no blood or vomit on the white shirt with the red print, and socks. Oh, socks, the sporty ones, thick and fluffy and warm.
I looked so good, I almost didn’t mind the manhandling and the handcuffs. Almost.
“I’m sorry I got the wrong address,” I said, staring down at the shiny metal bands around my wrists. I had a lot of experience with cuffs and given enough time, I was able to slip them, but my captor didn’t look all that ready to put me on a backseat of a car and leave me alone for a few minutes. He also was the most confusing person I had ever met. I couldn’t decide if he was stupid, oafish or simply playing along to see what I was all about, but right now I had bigger things to worry about. He wanted me to prove my Dark-theory to him. To do so, we had to go over to his neighbors, which was easier than it sounded, since there were no fences between the gardens. The hard part would be to figure out how to show him what I saw. I hadn’t managed that so far, not with anyone, so there was that.
“I’m sorry I might have to kill you,” he replied, tugged at the bit of chain linking the cuffs together, and stepped out of my way. “You walk in front of me. If you run, I shoot you. If you try to jump me or the neighbor, I shoot you. We go over there, you show me whatever it is that’s lurking there, we go back and I decide what to do with you. Understood?”
I bobbed a bobblehead nod and started walking, along the hall, down the stairs and back into the marble-covered first floor. It’s fantastic how many creaky and groany spots you find if you don’t try to avoid them. I relished each woody crackle beneath my feet and stomped extra loud when we walked towards the back door.
Adonis tsked at the broken window, threw me a sideways glance that had way too much father in it for my dirty imaginings of his body, and opened the door for me. His other hand clutched the gun casually, very unlike a policeman, very much like a lady might carry her purse. I stepped back outside, careful not to make any sudden moves as he followed me out into the darkness. The lawn looked like a little ocean of scalpels, pale white where the moonlight hit the blades of grass, but since he had at least given me my wet boots back, I wasn’t afraid to step off the marble porch.
We made our way across the lawn, him pushing me forward when I lost my train of thought, usually while staring at the foliage lazily moving in the nightly breeze. Even without a fence, I immediately knew when we stepped onto the neighbor’s property. I almost got myself shot, too, since I stumbled back gasping, right against the muzzle of Adonis’ gun.
Luckily, he had a good composure, had my captor. “What’s wrong?” he asked, standing all clueless and calm between the rose bushes drenched in Dark. I could see their buds flow and twitch beneath the evil, like tightly wound wreaths of tentacles, thirsty for my touch and blacker than a moonless night. Adonis even got some of it on his sleeve and I had to make fists out of my hands to stop myself from trying to brush it off him.
“Don’t touch the plants, they are hungry,” I wheezed, more as an excuse than to warn him, because he wouldn’t believe me anyway. One of the rose branches curled at my words, as if to slap me for my traitorous words, but I backed up and gave it a wide berth. As I turned around, I saw Adonis stoop down a bit to take a closer look at one of the rose buds, then back off with a puzzled expression. He heeded my words, staying away from all the bushes and flowers as he followed my steps, but his face said that he was humoring me.
This was definitely the place. I snaked my way through the tainted vegetation, shuddering at the sheer mass of Dark around us. It was dripping from branches, curling around giant flower stems, sitting in stagnant pools on the path stones, humming with strength and malice. Either the people in the house spent massive amounts of time in their garden, or they were in some way more powerful than any of my prior victims. It was almost impossible to avoid all of it, but neither the Dark, nor that eye-burning Light ever stuck to me like it did to other people, so all I had to worry about was my confused companion.
He still stepped where I stepped, looking bemused but calm, clutching his gun. “You know,” he said, throwing a glance at the beautiful sandstone-paved patio we walked towards, “it’s a shame those people never look at their garden. I mean, here you have all this beauty, and the only beneficiaries are the insects and birds.”
I sniffed, feeling a tickle in my nose that promised a major cold in the next days. “Maybe they see it as I do,” I offered, swallowing down the increasingly queasy feeling developing in my stomach. It felt a little like a bad garbage dinner, but since I hadn’t eaten anything for more than twelve hours, it could only be fear.
A nervous breeze blew through the pillar seamed patio, as we stopped in front of the back door. This one was all glass and plastic with a touch of chrome, but it breathed with darkness, bubbling and undulating like a bursting, maggot-filled carcass. I had never seen darkness this thick up close, and I absolutely didn’t want to touch it. This was bad, really bad. I needed a weapon.
“You’re paler. What do you see?” Adonis whispered, trying to keep me in his sight and throw a look at the door at the same time. I could have taken his gun, now that he was preoccupied with his own worries, but I didn’t. I’d have to kill him, and I really didn’t want to. He was the only person to ever actually make an attempt to find out what I was talking about, and I wanted him all to myself for a little longer.
I could have told him, but words weren’t enough. I bobbed my head a little, trying to identify the worst section on the squirming, bloated mess, then pointed at a spot that was bulbous with pressure. “Touch that, there,” I whispered, stepping off to one side to allow him more room.
Adonis stared at me, then at the spot I had pointed at. His gun never wavered away from my chest as he did so. “I don’t want to,” he finally said, frowning at his own words as he heard them.
“Why?” I asked, although I knew the answer. I wouldn’t have wanted to touch the door there, either, not even blindfolded, but he had ordered me to show him what I was talking about, so he had to come to his own conclusions.
He shrugged and his fingers played, like he was plucking at invisible harp strings. Not that I had ever seen a harp in person, but this was how I imagined a harp player’s hands to move. “I don’t know, I just…. really don’t want to touch the door there.”
I nodded slowly. “It sticks. Sullies. Rots. Your fingers know, that’s why.”
His face told me how silly he thought I was, but he didn’t disagree. Instead, he nodded towards the door, whispering. “So, how do you plan on getting in if you can’t touch it?”
“You can’t. I can.” I inched closer to the door, grabbed the handle and shuddered as the Dark wrapped its wet, cold-hot tendrils around my wrist. It felt like touching a bucket of hot glue and I really didn’t want to, but it was part of the job. I still intended to get paid at the end, it just had gotten a bit trickier. Bubbles of blackness popped and sizzled as the door morphed into a pool of tar, pricking the skin of my hand as I turned the doorknob and pulled the door open. Maybe my Adonis didn’t see anything, but by the way he rolled his shoulders and made a face, he surely felt it.
The door swung open and gave way to a luscious living room, if the onlooker disregarded the mushroom-like growths of violet and black Dark all over the walls and the floors. I stepped in, followed closely by the suit-clad armed man I hadn’t wanted to let go. He hissed behind me, I simply stared. The door fell shut at his heels.
In the middle of the room, a demon stood. Pocks and growths distended his nice pantsuit, sieving yellow and brown fluids through the cloth where the pressure got too much. It had claws, at least I hoped it were claws, but not at its hands and feet— they grew right out of its crotch, snapping at the air as the thing turned towards us. Small, pig-like eyes glared out of a vomit-yellow face, and pieces of pink, twitching flesh fell out the creature’s mouth as it opened its lips to a big, cruel smile. The Dark stood up to its ankles in the room, filling it slowly but surely and rising like the morning tide. Funny enough, it didn’t stink.
No, the room was filled with a whole different scent, and it was coming from the broken, disemboweled body at the feet of the demon. The small creature had been sullied, both by the loss of clothing and by the ripping of flesh. The whole room stank of blood, fear and death, sticking sickly to the insides of my mouth and nose. As the demon lifted his foot to take a half step backwards, a single lock of golden hair stuck to its distorted and warped toe nails, coming clean off what had been a head once.
Adonis had his gun up, side-stepping me to get a clear line of sight at the thing. I wondered how he saw the demon, wondered if the massacre looked as bad to his non-Dark eyes, wondered if he had ever seen something like this, something so purely malicious.
“What is this?” he hissed, sounding out of breath and twitchy like a fly-ridden horse. Cold wind blew against our backs, pulling long threads of Dark out of the sea around the demon and whisking them away as the beast stammered and gurgled. It probably was trying to explain the dead girl’s body at its feet, but something obviously stuck in its throat. It hacked once, twice, a third time, then it spit two fingers out, like a cat regurgitating a fur ball.
“What is this!” Adonis yelled, sounding appropriately panicky.
The demon roared, taking a step closer, stomping into the mess of entrails in front of him and squirting blood everywhere, like a kid jumping into a autumn puddle. A glob of pinkish pus dribbled out of its shirtsleeve.
“Shoot him,” I said, trying my best to sound helpful. Nobody listened to me, probably because I wasn’t yelling.
The demon took another step forward, dragging the ribcage with it as the bones got stuck on its stunted foot. This was not good, it was getting too close.
I turned around and threw all good manners into the wind. “Shoot him, god almighty!” I yelled, shocking Adonis into action.
He shot until the gun clicked empty. Then he vomited and ran out.
The demon fell, slipping in the blood and guts of its victim, gargling its last breath and then adding its black blood to the red of the little dead girl. The room fell silent.
I stood there for a few more moments, confused as to what best to do next. There was nothing here I wanted to touch or take, no bed I wanted to lie in and no food I wanted to steal, but having been robbed of my usual after-kill-activities, I felt strangely bereft. I finally drifted after Adonis, when the stench of blood and death inside got too much even for me. He was walking up and down the patio, barrel side pressed against his forehead and muttering to himself. He stopped when I fell in step beside him, though, and turned to examine me like he hadn’t seen me before.
“Who the hell are you?” he whispered trembling.