The Notorious

“What do you make of this one?” Roger asked. He nudged the body with his foot.

I leant over and looked into the girl’s glassy eyes. “The wounds are unmistakeable, it’s them,” I said.

Roger sighed and dragged the body through the sand. He pulled her up and over his shoulder, and asked “What are we on now?”

I flicked through my note book and scribbled down the name we found on her licence. “She’s the sixth,” I said.

“That we know of,” Roger added.

We walked to the car and Roger tossed her into the bloodstained boot. He wiped his brow and got into driver’s seat.

I rested my head back and closed my eyes. We had been collecting bodies for the past three weeks. With each new girl we found, the longer and harder the storms would rage.

“I don’t know how many more I can bury,” Roger said. “How do we stop them?”

“We reanimate her,” I said. “If that doesn’t bring them out nothing will.” I sat forward and looked across to Roger, “Let’s not waste any more time.”

He turned on the engine and we made our way to the bunker.

The girl looked peaceful. Once we had covered up her wounds you could have mistaken her for sleeping. Soon she would be awake again, and hopefully her scent would bring them to us.

I placed my hands on her chest and took a deep breath. Roger put his hands over mine and whispered a prayer.

“If you feel it slipping, stop,” he said.

“I’m bringing her back. If anything happens to me, you know what to do.”

“This isn’t worth your life,” he said. He pulled my hands away from her body. “We will find another way, I won’t lose you.”

“It’s the only option we have left. We brought them into this world, Roger, and I will die taking them out.”


There’s nothing better than a speed write to get the creative mind spinning. Who knew a daily prompt could create a world ending species? I’ll definitely be working with the Notorious again in the future, this was a fun one to write. Thanks for reading!

Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Notorious

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Johnny Got Shot

Johnny Got Shot

Three, two, nope I can’t do it, not a chance in Hell. I’ll just have to get myself home and call Frankie. Frankie always knows best, I doubt he’s seen this before, but still, he’ll know what to do.

Jeez that hurt more than I expected, and now blood is pouring out from where the bugger shot me. Man I wish I had a phone. Why didn’t I listen to Mindy? She said, “Johnny you’ll regret it, everyone has one these days, what if you get shot in the leg?” Okay, so she didn’t say that last part, but imagine if she did?  That would have been funny. Actually, no, no it wouldn’t. This is so far from funny that I am now laughing hysterically as I drag my limp bleeding leg through the dusty path. Just what every open wound needs, dust.

If I had taken the arrow out I would have bled out there and then, back there, with the roses and those blue ones, I can never remember what they’re called. My mum always used to pick them and put them in the kitchen window. They were crawling with bugs, but she never seemed to mind, I always thought it peculiar.

An arrow in the leg is always better than being dead, that’s a saying, right? Well it should be, because it’s true. Who wants to be dead? Then again, who wants an arrow in their leg? I sure as Hell don’t.

I was just wandering through the way, and bang, the psychopath shot me. Okay, so it was less of a wander and more of a run, but who needs details? I have an arrow in my leg, what more do you need to know? It hurts, and now that I’m thinking about it even more it hurts even more, I need to take my mind off of it. Wow I feel woozy. I thought keeping the darn thing in would keep me plugged up? Turns out that was a stupid thought.

Come on Johnny walk faster, faster. It’s more of a crawl really. If he’s still behind me he’ll have an easy job of finding me, there’s a trail of my blood thick as my arm behind me, any fool could track me.

I used to shoot, when I was younger. Say nine or ten, I only did it for a little while. I stopped when my dad ran off with the waitress from the restaurant that sold the good peach pie. I love peach pie, but now it carries with it a bitter undertone of abandonment and resent. Still, I eat it every Friday night.

I wonder if mum still puts those blue flowers in the kitchen window. When I get home I think I’ll call her, it’ll be nice to hear her voice again, to tell her that I have been missing her, and that, well, I love her. I suppose I should probably apologise too, you know, for stealing from her.

What? When my dad left I didn’t know what to do with myself, my head was all over the place, and when Frankie told me to sneak the Mars into my pocket it only took the one time to get me addicted. That’s what got me into this mess, stealing. If I hadn’t have stolen from mum I wouldn’t have had to leave home, and I wouldn’t have ended up in my sorry excuse of an apartment sleeping with the roaches, and I wouldn’t have wandered through this dreary little village and tried to make off with a prize chicken, and I wouldn’t have been shot in the leg. So, if you think about it, this is Frankie’s fault.

I wonder if Frankie has ever sewn anyone up before. I know that he’s resuscitated a few people, he’s a hero around our parts, people don’t see him the way I do. Not many people know about his stealing, they don’t realise that a janitor’s wage couldn’t have afforded him such a hot lifestyle. They all see me though, they always have. I’ve got a rubbish poker face, that’s my problem. That, and the fact I listened to Frankie.

I’ll never forget my mother’s face when she found out. Oh the veins on her forehead almost jumped out and strangled me she was that mad. It was only a couple hundred quid, I needed a new bike, mine only had one wheel. Where was one wheel going to get me? She always went on at me to get a job, but how could I get to a job with one wheel on my bike. Slowly. And I don’t do slowly. Well, I am doing now, but I only have one leg.

I can almost see the road, man it’s far away, but it’s so close, it’s one of those what do you call thems? We learnt about them in English, and when I got home I told my mum about them, but she was too busy crying to take notice. She always cried, especially after dad left, I don’t remember seeing her smile. Boy I wish she was here now, she’d know what to do. When I get out of this mess I’m going home, home home.

Come on Johnny, not far now, I’m almost at the road. Oh man, things just got a whole lot woozier. Is it getting darker out here, or am I about to pass out?

The Wrong Road

This is a short I wrote last Halloween, but not many people got to see it. As I’m currently getting back into the swing of things, I’m going to be re-uploading some old work from my now off-line website. Enjoy!

***

The Wrong Road

Blood spills around her

Steadily her heart beats now

Death is all she knows

***

Liv tapped aimlessly at her phone as the frozen blur of a message she had received taunted her. She jabbed at the home button, before she thrust it into her pocket and let out a sigh. Her dad would have to wait for a reply.

“Come on,” she uttered, looking up and down the now empty street.

Kyle had said he would pick her up at half past four, and looking at her watch she saw that he was almost an hour late. With another sigh she shuffled her feet, and rubbed her hands together.

Her mum and dad would be sat in the hall with her little brother, waiting with bowls and bowls of candy and sweets, for the trick-or-treaters that so rarely passed their house. Stood beneath the buzzing streetlight she wished she was with them.

After a final look up and down the abandoned road, she threw her bag over her shoulder, and started to walk. She took out her phone again, but it was still frozen on the same message.

Hot chocolate, and an overflowing bowl of peanuts with your name on them, waiting for you. Love Dad. X

She smiled and looked up into the black sky. Half a moon lounged there, surrounded by glittering stars. Liv had always loved the stars, since she was a child they made her feel safe, and no matter how dark it was, if there were stars she told herself that she could find her way home.

Ahead of her she could see headlights fractured by the opening to the woods that lay beside the road.

“Kyle,” she said in a breath. The thought passed through her mind that he had been in an accident, and without a second thought she started to run towards the lights. “Kyle,” she shouted, straining her voice so that he might hear her.

She skittered to a halt as she saw the car, it wasn’t Kyle’s, she didn’t know whose it was as it was empty. The driver side door was open, and the keys were swaying in the ignition.

She peered through the windows of the car, and stood beside it for a moment. She couldn’t call the police, and she didn’t want to shout, in fact she wished she never had. Regret pulsed through her, before fear took its place. She looked back in the direction from which she had come, and then ahead to the road she had been heading towards. She swallowed hard and continued on ahead.

“People stop to go to the toilet all of the time,” she uttered to herself, keeping her voice low. The sound of her voice settled her, and she shook off what fear had found her.

Her phone began to ring and her heart hammed in her chest. She fumbled around and answered, cursing having the volume on so loud.

“Kyle?”

“Where are you?” he asked. “I’m outside.”

She looked back, and rolled her eyes. “I started to walk, come meet me.”

Within minutes she could hear the steady rattle of Kyle’s old car. He pulled up beside her and motioned for her to get in.

“You didn’t mention the abandoned car on the phone,” he said, as I threw my bag in the back seat, and quickly put on my seatbelt.

I shrugged. “What is there to say, someone stopped to relieve themselves? I’m sure it’s all fine.”

He raised his brows and looked in his rear-view mirror. “I don’t know, maybe we should call the police?”

Liv nodded, and dialled 999.

Kyle froze beside her. “Liv,” he said. “Liv, look.”

She looked up into the mirror and her breath caught in her throat.

“Drive,” she whispered. “Drive, Kyle,” she said, raising her voice, as she dug her fingers into his leg.

With mindless grace the shadow cloaked in grey crept closer to Liv and Kyle’s car.

“Kyle, why aren’t you driving?” Liv turned to Kyle and shook him. “Drive, why aren’t you driving?” she asked, her voice was strained, desperate.

Liv’s nails buried deeper into Kyle’s thigh, and blood pooled beneath them. Her teeth cut through her lips, and she could taste a coppery warmth in her mouth. Yet she barely noticed any of it, as a voice, frozen in the bitter grasp of the October night, whispered between them, “Yes, Kyle, why are you not driving?”

Neither of them could say a word. Kyle’s eyes were staring through the mirror, through the reflection he saw there, and into nothing. Liv was clinging onto Kyle, whilst trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest.

Ice-cold fingers wrapped around their throats, and she began to laugh. The grip loosened around Liv’s neck as laughter continued to bubble from her lips. She took in a rugged breath, and reached for the door handle. With all that she had left she pushed open the door, tore her seatbelt out of the car, and jumped out onto the road.

Her feet found their balance and she ran. She headed towards the trees, slamming her hands against them to propel herself deeper into the darkness that surrounded her.

The world around her fell silent, for all but a tiny stream that flowed at her feet. She knelt down and took a moment to breathe. With weariness she looked at her hands and saw Kyle’s blood, blood that stained her fingertips. She plunged her hands into the water and held in a cry. After a moment she fell back and dragged her frozen hands through her hair.

Kyle, she had left Kyle behind with the phantom, the demon.

Leaning forward her phone slipped from her pocket, and as she moved to pick it up she caught a glimpse of herself in the stream. Her face was paler than the moon, and her cheeks were painted with dirt and blood. Her focus on her image was hazy, until shocking white eyes opened, and a small, sly smile gleamed in the water’s unforgiving reflection.

Mock Me Not

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked. She walked around to Johnny’s desk and plucked the note book from beneath his crossed arms.

He sat back and sighed, before he said, “I was trying to make a start on my novel.”

“By sleeping on it?” she asked. She laughed and slid it back across to him. “What is it about?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” he said.

“Try me,” she uttered.

His eyes lit up, and the unwritten masterpiece played out in his mind.

There are two people walking into an alley way submerged in the darkness, and their shadows are thrown in front of them by the flickering orange streetlight at the entrance of their path. Neither of the figures have faces or names, they don’t need them, because suddenly the scenery changes and we are in a field. 

The sun and the delicate breeze soak the couple that are lying on their backs, looking up into the canopy of trees. Exotic birds are singing, and in the distance sirens can be heard, but the couple have yet to notice. 

The young man – tall, dark, and handsome – leans up onto his elbows and kisses his young lover on the lips. She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck, but they both stop and look across at the road as two police cars and an ambulance speed past. 

With reluctance they pack up their picnic and return to their car to drive back into the town. When they reach their home they take off their clothes and throw them onto their bedroom floor, and in one torturous minute of bone breaking pain they transform into wolves.

Once they are in their supernatural form they set off into the town, and before long they find the bodies. As soon as they turn their noses to the crime scene they know what has come to town.

“Vampires?” Sarah asked. She raised her brows and bit her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing.

“What’s wrong with vampires?” Johnny asked.

“Doesn’t everyone write about vampires?”

“Yeah, but mine are different. I have werewolves too.”

“That’s basically the plot to Twilight, but in reverse,” she said.

Johnny frowned and closed his notebook. “No it’s not,” he said. “Perry and Lisa are the town’s guardians.”

Twilight,” Sarah uttered.

“They fight crime and solve murders,” he said. “The wolves in Twilight don’t do that.”

“Wait, so you have crime fighting werewolves?”

Jonny nodded and Sarah started to laugh, but she apologised lightly and turned to leave the room as she caught sight of his scowl. She reached out to the handle, but the door opened before she touched it.

As the door slowly came to a stop, a rough voice asked into the room, “What’s wrong with crime fighting werewolves?”

Sarah stood back as the naked figure stepped into the room, and her face drained of colour.

Perry?” Johnny uttered in a breath, before he put his hand to his forehead and collapsed beneath his desk.


Hello! Thanks for reading, I hope that you enjoyed our brief encounter with Sarah and Jonny – it was as brief to write as it is to read, my favourite kind of story. Today I was kindly informed that it is my one year WordPress anniversary, so I decided to do a supernatural short story to mirror the story I posted when I first arrived here! See you next Saturday for more five minute stories!

Beth.

A Short Supernatural Tale: Jordan’s Dream

The vampires, werewolves, witches and ghosts all came back on a Friday morning. The air was cold, frost had settled on the leaves over night and dew dripped from the dying grasses. The sun had risen and was shivering lonely in the sky; the winds blew the clouds around the earth and all of the people beneath them.

Jordan William Johnson had known that they were coming; he had seen them in a dream.

Just like every other night Jordan had taken an aspirin and poured himself a tall glass of iced water. He lay on his covers looking out over the hills that surrounded his countryside dwelling. He wasn’t suited to the countryside, but the city had become too hectic and was no good for his health.

Jordan leant over his bedside to turn off his lamp and he buried himself under his covers.

His headaches had gotten worse over the past week since his grandfather died. His grandfather had been his only friend in life. Neither of his parents cared much for him when he was a boy and his other family had kept well away.

Grandpa Lie is what Jordan would call the old man. He never expressed a reason for this, his grandfather wasn’t known for lying, but one could argue that he wasn’t known for telling the truth either. Grandpa Lie had fallen ill, and on his death bed had sworn to tell Jordan a secret, the reason for his parents’ disapproval, fear, and the reason why Jordan could never sleep at night without taking drugs in one form or another.

Unfortunately for Jordan, Grandpa Lie passed before he could reveal his final secret.

Jordan shook his grandfather from his mind and closed his eyes.

He saw Marcy Little, her perfect button nose and perky breasts, he saw the curve of her body as she leant over the desk where he worked to adjust his tie, and he saw her smile, the smile that only he received. Jordan had been sleeping with Marcy for over a year, and he was certain that he was in love with her. He was planning on telling her over dinner, but as a cold sweat covered his body and his hands shook beneath the table he was unable to find the words. Marcy had laughed as he rubbed his stomach and made a half hearted joke about irritable bowel syndrome, and she left without ever hearing that he loved her, that Jordan William Johnson loved her, Marcy Little. Truthfully she was the first woman he had ever even liked. He had never really liked any person, other than his grandfather, and sometimes he couldn’t even stand Lie’s company.

Marcy was special; she made him want to be human, to experience human things. That was the problem Jordan had always faced, never quite feeling human.  He looked human enough, but in his heart he never felt it.

As he lay in bed he thought that maybe that was what Lie had wanted to tell him, that he wasn’t really human, that he was some higher life form sent from another planet and put into Lie’s care. He laughed and turned in his bed. With a sigh he sent a silent prayer up to Lie.

He felt the pull of Sleep and he gave into the force. Sleep took him by the hand and into the dimension of dreams. Jordan had never found reason to question why his dreams were so different to his peers’ dreams, as he had very little interaction with them.

Jordan wandered lazily through the darkness, no longer afraid of the shadows that lurked here and there. Over the years he had discovered that the reason why they lurked was for fear of being seen, to reveal themselves to him would be to hand over their power over him. No longer afraid he barely felt their presence. But that night something had changed.

As he approached a place he knew well in the darkness he saw something move, one of the lurkers.  He turned and saw it stand and reveal itself under a dim light created by Sleep, the master of dreams. The lurker was a man, as the man drew closer Jordan could see shadows beneath his eyes and that his skin was as pale as the moon. The man was not a man at all, the man was dead. Jordan didn’t need to notice the blood that stained his shirt or the fangs that bulged under his top lip; Jordan knew instantly that this man was a creature of nightmares. The man was a vampire. The vampire bowed his head to Jordan and continued to walk beside him. Jordan knew that to feel fear would have been human. But when had Jordan ever been human?

Jordan walked with the vampire until another lurker rose from the shadows. This man was shaking wildly, his eyes flicked from their human blue to a ghastly yellow, like those of wolves hidden in the forest reflecting the ceaseless traffic’s headlights. He snarled at the vampire who turned his face from him, his eyes on Jordan, waiting for him to continue his walk through the darkness. Hair bust through the man’s pink skin spreading like fire around his body, he fell to his knees and as he crawled to Jordan his every bone broke and reformed into a hideous shape. The werewolf howled and followed Jordan and the vampire into the continuing darkness. Just as the vampire had done the werewolf presented a quiet respect for Jordan.

Sooner than he had anticipated a third lurker rose. She stood tall, not quite as tall as Jordan, but her presence made up for her height. She looked angry, furious, but the closer she came to Jordan he realised that it was sadness that haunted her eyes. Rejection stained her skin beneath her silk black dress, a dress of mourning for lost sisters unlawfully executed in the flames of scared men. She stood before the trio and held out her hand to Jordan. She curtseyed and he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it gently, barely touching her cool flesh. She took her place next to the Vampire and smiled thoughtfully, hopefully.

The darkness would be gone in a matter of minutes. Jordan recognised the final turn in the labyrinth that was his dream, but it was no half man half creature that waited for him at the end, nor was it Theseus the great hero. Instead the final lurker raised from the ground her feet resting in the air above the dark floor. Jordan could see the shadows through her translucent body. She graced through the darkness and bowed her head to Jordan, a sly smile creasing her perfectly paper white face. She circled the strange group before resting upon the back of the werewolf. Together they walked through the darkness and into the light of the rising sun.

Jordan stopped before the light lit the path that his feet were to tread. He held onto the darkness as the others continued. The vampire, the werewolf, the witch and the ghost each turned back to thank Jordan, their eyes promising eternal companionship. This promise warmed something in Jordan’s heart that had always been cold, and he realised what Lie’s secret had been, but he had always known. Jordan was the bringer of them, the one whose name would never be forgotten in the eyes of their followers.

The darkness pushed Jordan into the light and lying in his bed his eyes shot open faster than a bullet leaves a bitter man’s gun. He sat up and looked out of his window. The sun was rising above the hills that surrounded his home. He closed his eyes and stretched up.

As he wandered through into his kitchen a sudden thumping on his door stole all of his attention. He ran to the door and fought his trembling hands to fix the key into the lock. As the door swung open Marcy stumbled forward and into his arms. Her pale, pale hand clung to her neck. He dropped to his knees holding her in his arms.

“Help me Jordan,” she whispered, a single tear graced her cheek as she drew her final breath, and her dark red blood painted Jordan’s shivering naked legs.

Jordan looked up and stood beneath the shade of Lie’s ancient oak, his pride and joy, was the vampire. He bowed his head and smiled to Jordan as he wiped the corner of his mouth with a pure white handerchief. Above the vampire in one of the highest branches of the tree was the ghost, swinging her paper white legs, her ghostly hair blowing in the cool Friday morning breeze. The werewolf in his human form emerged from the road adjoining to Jordan’s driveway and he saluted Jordan, shaking his head as he looked down to Marcy. Jordan looked around for the witch. As he began to frown he caught sight of her atop a hill just beyond the driveway. She turned her head to look down to Jordan, a sad smile painted her lips and she bowed her head before she walked over the brow of the hill, disappearing from sight.

As Marcy drew in a sharp breath Jordan caught sight of her eyes as they opened wide. Her lips faltered into a smile and her glimmering white immortal fangs parted as she whispered, “I love you too.”