New Year's Luck and X- Apodo.

A few hours before 2010 expires Louis decided to give his luck a last opportunity to reveal itself. Tonight was going to be a night of revelations or slow death, and he knew that better than he wanted to.
The casino stood like an ice castle in the snowy valley and he approached it apprehensively. The train ride and all the thinking he had done on the train hadn't managed to diminish his last ray of hope which like an old oil lamp shone its weak yellow light over the remnants of his life; a divorce, a heavy alimony to his poor, tormented wife, his two daughters that he'll probably never see again, a loanshark and his already expired deadline not to mention his two bruisers that will take care of him in a most painful way the minute they track him down. Still anything can happen in a casino on NewYear's Eve and so he straightened his dark blue tie and brushed the snow off his shoulders before entering the shiny building.

The place was full as expected. On his way to the bar Louis checked the tables and the games to see where everything is located and who were the big gamblers of the night. There was some serious cheering going on around a roulette table and a weird looking gentleman in white was occupied by trying to light a cigar the size of a water pipe. He was obviously the lucky bastard of the pit. All around his table plastic women were giving him lipstic kisses while shoving big silicone boobs against his chest...

He sat on a leather stool at the bar and turned around so that he could see the man who was now draining his glass.
"Good evening...What would you like to drink?" The polite- looking bartender asked.
"Bourbon" he said tearing his eyes off the man in white.
With the drink burning his parched throat he began to focus on the task at hand. He knew exactly what he needed. 400.000 Swiss Francs...approximately 316.9819 euros....How the hell was he going to win that much money he didn't know....He shook his head and emptied the glass.

" Desperrrate maladies rrrequire desperrrate rrremedies" a man's voice said in broken English. Louis looked up and saw the man in white leaning against the bar opposite him with a full glass in his hands.
"What did you say?" asked Louis who was taken aback by the man's sudden appearance in front of him.
"You hearrrd what I said." said the man who took his time rolling his Rs in his mouth using his tongue indulgingly which under different circumnstances Louis would have found funny though not tonight.

"It shows, doesn't it?" he asked having lost all interest in formalities....he WAS a doomed man after all.

"Diseases desperrrately grrrown, by desperrate appliance are rrrelieved or not at all!" said the man offering a long delicate palm which Louis took in his clammy hand.

"You arrre a lucky man indeed to have met me tonight of all nights..I am going to help you, my friend.." said the man and his eyes sparkled.
"Who are you?" asked Louis. A nasty nauseous feeling in his gut made him look in his glass...maybe he shouldn't drink on an empty stomach. He put the glass down.

"Of course..I forrrgot to intrrroduce myself. I'm X Apodo, but you can call me X. Just X."
"And what is it that you do, how are you going to help me?"
"You see Misterrr...."
"Louis. Just Louis."
"You see Misterrr Louis, I am a very lucky man and I can pass some of that luck to you if you like. I have this gift you see and I'd like to sharrre it. Tonight is a special night and I am already a very wealthy man... I feel generrrous!"
"And what would you like in return for your....generosity?"
"Just twenty perrr cent of your earrrnings...if that's not too much for you that is..."
Twenty per cent was not too much for Louis.
"How are you going to pass your luck to me..is it hard?" asked Louis raising an eyebrow.
Mr Ex didn't fail to notice the edge of irony in Louis' voice. He looked at him in contemplation, his eyes hardened just a little but were soon soft again and took the colour of warm honey, such beautiful, captivating eyes.

"It's quite simple actually. I sorrrt of hypnotise you and that's it. It won't last long but perrrhaps it will be enough..perrrhaps not."

Louis couldn't really believe what the man was saying but he had nothing to lose, in fact, maybe, he could do what he says...what the hell...why not?
 He smiled and looked at the man who was lighting another pipe-looking cigar with a large gold lighter. Its yellow light fell on Louis' face, the thing looked like a solid bar of gold.

"Let's do it!" he said with determination.

"Close your eyes.."

Louis did as told feeling both embarrassed and ridiculous. Mr X said nothing more so Louis just waited with his eyes closed resisting the urge to take a peep at what the man was doing. A minute or two later Mr X ordered him to open his eyes again. When Louis looked at him Mr X was leaning against the bar with a crooked smile on his face as if trying to repress a laugh..

"Is this your idea of a joke? Are you having a good time humiliating people?" asked Louis standing up.

"It's done. You can go and play.." said the man calmly.

"That was it? You hypnotised me and I have your luck now..right.."

"Only for a while...go trrry it...and don't forrrget...twenty perrr cent. I will be rrright herrre to collect. Herrre's a chip to get you starrrrted."

The man placed a green rectangular chip with the number 500 written in gold letters on the bar. It was as big as the gold lighter.

Louis looked at the chip and back at the man before picking it up.

"Ok, I'll give it a try."

"Good! Go to that little wheel over therrre.." he said pointing to the table he was before, "The crrroupierrr is a fine gentleman...and don't forrrget to tip!"

Louis left the bar and walked towards the roulette table rolling the chip between his fingers..

"Place your bets!" the croupier said as Louis approached the empty table. The man looked at him and then shot a glance at Mr. X who nodded back.

"Maybe luck has nothing to with this after all" thought Louis who trusted fraud more than luck. He looked at the numbers on the table.

5...10...23...7. His eyes lingered on 7. Seven made him feel all warm and cuddly inside, but why? His mother's face floated on the surface of his memory pool; his 7th birthday and the huge cake she had made just for him, what was the big present he got on that day...

"Seven" he said and put his chip on the red square.

"Straight up!" announced the croupier "No more bets"...

And then the wheel started to spin. Louis looked at the small ball calmly. Seven would not let him down, he knew..7 was good.

"7" announced the man and placed a stack of chips in front of him. Louis looked at them and turned his head towards the bar where Mr X was standing with a wide sparkling smile on his face. He pointed to his gold watch for Louis to see, reminding him that he would have to hurry.

He turned back to the numbers on the table. The warm 7 feeling had gone so he started searching again. 10...15...28...31. This 31 stood out from all the numbers...it was actually glowing. Its golden light fell on the numbers around it...31 was his wife's...ex-wife's lucky number. How odd, he hadn't thought of that in years. She loved all the months with 31 days, she thought those last days were lucky, but were they? He couldn't remember.

"31" he said and placed the stack of chips on the black number.

"No more bets" the croupier said and the ball roamed in its round pool.

"31" The croupier placed a taller stack of chips if front of him. Louis looked at the numbers again but he knew he didn't have to. He had felt the cold breath near his heart where the warmth of his newly-found luck had been a minute before. It was over, but this wasn't enough; he needed more. All the chips went inside his jacket pocked and he rushed back to the bar not forgetting to tip the croupier who said: "Merci pour les employes" in immaculate French.

"I want more..I need more..please... give me more.."

"I'm glad you found the experrrience pleasant but I'm afrrraid we're rrrunning out of time, it's 10 minutes after 11 and I will leave when the year expirrres..you see I am a busy man Mr. Louis."

"Please, here's your 20 per cent, we have 45 minutes before you leave...I'll give you 30 per cent if you like".

Mr X pocketed the chip Louis gave him and looked at his watch again.

"Therrre is a game that will enable you to get the money you need fasterrr, if you are interrrested in playing something heavierrr.."

"Heavier?" Louis asked with a frown.

"Black Jack. There is a prrrivate game going on rrright now and I know they arrre always looking for players. I prrromise you I will make sure my gift last longerrr in therrre, you will be playing against prrrofessionals afterrr all.....Arrre you game Mr Louis?" Mr X asked putting out what was left of his cigar.

"I am, let's go.." answered Louis who had a sudden qualm about the safety of the venture but chose to ignore it. It was just a game of Black Jack and nothing more.

The two men walked outside. The cold had reached its peak and Louis felt his bones complain undertneath his feeble jacked. But the walk didn't last long, they soon stopped outside an old wooden door which stood at the back of the casino, attached to a seemingly desolate brick building. Dead silence surrounded them. The house behind the door seemed completely empty; no light, no sound came out to greet them.

Mr X raised a hand and banged on the door twice. When the echo of the second knock subsided, bright yellow light escaped from the bottom of the door's frame and deafening music animated the whole building so suddently Louis stood aghast at the sight. The door opened and revealed a crowded room, filled with grey smoke and a lively, festive atmosphere. They walked inside and Louis felt his spirits rise as the mellow sounds of the trumpets, the saxophones sweetened his ears and the lovely ladies who looked at him hungrily warmed up his bones.

 Everyone seemed to know Mr X. They hugged him and called out his name. He knew everyone and returned all the hugs and kisses from both the men and the gorgeous women of the room.

The walked further inside and even further. Drinks were placed in their hands and large platters of food danced before them. Louis took a couple of the delicious orderves that passed- by him, licked his fingers and  picked up all the little crumbs that had fallen on his jacket, he had never eaten anything like that his whole life. Then a feline lady gave him one of the pipe-like cigars that Mr X had been smoking all evening, she even lit it between her red, pillowy lips. Louis took a long whiff and filled his lungs with Cuban magic and then took another and another...and all the while they were walking further inside.

If he could, he would have sworn that the building had looked much smaller on the outside but right now he refused to think and feel anything less than this.

Content and up-lifted Louis followed X to the end of the room and to another wooden door.

"This is wherrre they play the Jack. We both go inside, they give you a seat and you play...but firrrst close yourr eyes.."

Louis let his heavy eye-lids drop and the music fill the darkness behind them. 

The door opened and the two of them walked inside the room. Six men were sitting around an  wooden semi-circle table filled with cards and ash trays. One of them, the oldest of the lot stood up the moment they entered the room. Louis saw X nod to the man who then ran out without looking back. Everyone's heads were turned to the open door which closed as soon as the man had gone. The large grandfather clock attracked Louis attention in the silence. Its heavy pendulum was ticking the last minutes of the year away. It was 20 minutes to 12.

"Have a seat" X said.

Everybody looked at the newcomer from head to toe as he sat down between two younger men who looked like they had escaped a gangster movie. Their hats were resting on the table next to them and on their shoulders Louis could see the braces that were supposed to keep their trousers in place.

Louis emptied his chips on the table and piled them neatly in front of him. The men looked at the chips unimpressed.

"Let's play.." he said.

"He still has 20 minutes..he can still walk out if he likes." said the man sitting opposite him without looking up.

"Fine." X said "One game. He wins, he walks."

"If I lose...then what?" asked Louis shrugging his shoulders.

"You'll stay" said the man next to him.

"I think I'll just leave now..." said Louis standing up.

The men started to laugh, some revealing golden teeth at the back of their mouths.

"Your time is running out, and so is your luck.." said X taking out another cigar from his breast pocket.

"Sit" said the man opposite him.

Louis did as he was told and the man opposite him started dealing the cards. He stared at them without picking them up.

"Hit!" said the man on his left and placed a tall stack of chips to the centre of the table.

Bang....bang....bang......went the clock with every tick as loud as a gunshot.

It was Louis' turn who pushed his chips to place his bet.

The 'dealer' looked at X who nodded in response.

"Where are your chips?" Louis asked to the man on his right.

"Long gone..." replied the man.

"And how do you play?"

"I play with years..Black Jack years." said the man who looked down at his cards and shook his head sadly. 

Louis could have fled, his time hadn't expired yet. He could have screamed, cried, fainted but he did none of the above.

In reality, he had nowhere else to go, it was this or the loanshark's bruisers. His family was broken beyond repair, he had noone to turn to...perhaps this was not such a bad way to spend...the rest of his life.

The clock's ticks had suddenly turned to whispers. The minutes were flying away.

He felt his heart relax and a calming sensation washed over him as he picked up the two cards that the dealer had given him.

5!, the trumpets, the saxophone, the singing had stopped, 4!, the people outside were casting 2010 away, 3!, they were counting loudly 2!, Louis looked down to his two cards, 1....

The grandfather clock boomed loudly 12 times.

 He had a Queen and an Ace.

"Black Jack" he said and opened his cards on the table.

The door opened slightly and some confetti was blown inside the smoky room exactly where Mr X was standing a minute before. Not knowing what to think, he filled his pockets will all the chips he could carry and walked out of the room.

The door closed silently behind him and he hurried out of the cold, empty house and into his life.

The deadly arrow. A story written by Anastasia, a 12- year-old student of mine.

This story was part of  a writing project and this is what Anastasia came up with:

I had been walking through the forest for several hours when I suddenly heard something behind me. I looked back but everything looked all right. When I took the next step I saw something sharp flying next to me. I was scared so I walked and found that thing. It was a long arrow.
I turned my head back and I saw someone. He looked big and strange but I couldn't see him very well though I felt that he was more than just a person.
I was so frightened I didn't know what to do. Then I heard something again and I started to run like a maniac. He threw me another arrow and it hit my shoe. I pulled it out and started to run again, I climbed a tree and he missed me for a moment but the branch I was sitting broke and he saw me. I started running again and then I fell down because of another arrow. More people came, they caught me and took me to a small cage.
I tried to escape but they saw me and and threw me another arrow. It was poisonous so it made me sleep. When I woke up I felt so different and then I saw that they had cut off one of my hands. I screamed loudly.
I lost my senses and fell down. I woke up in two days. I couldn't see well and my eyes were closing.
"This is the end" I told myself and I closed my eyes again slowly.

The collectors. A Christmas story.

    The cold, white night was piercing my bones as I walked hurriedly home.
Colourful lights were blinking at me from windows, doors and trees, because this was a Christmas night, a full moon Christmas night that is and because I never really liked the cold round face staring down at me from above, I was happy to notice that this night was so cloudy that no round face could follow me as I walked down the familiar path home.
I wish to repeat the melodramatic bit of the story; this was a Christmas night, a glorious night, where people celebrated, families gathered and lovers kissed..though I was alone. A lonely man away from home.

With every breath I took white steam escaped from my mouth, I watched the dancing ghosts of breath disolve and fade into the night.. the perfect metaphora...I was like an old steam train but with nowhere else to go but home to a microwave dinner and the tv.
The rusty church gate was left open as every night, though tonight the snow made the yard look like a puff of cloud. I cross this deserted church yard every evening since it cuts the distance home down to a half and it has found a place in my heart. The few Poplar trees whose leaves applaude the wind that always blows in this patch of land... the tiny church that noone enters anymore, as lonely as I am....

With these mellow thoughts I cross the yard tonight, hearing my boots crush the crunchy snow until music made me look up at the tiny church..
well... look at that,(I paused).... the church is open... there are people inside singing a Christmas hymn..how nice..

I follow the narrow path down to the other side and from the corner of my I eye I catch a glimpse of a woman, a beautiful willowy woman walking towards the chapel, wearing white..

"Won't you come inside?" a mellow voice behind me said.
I turned around and what a surprise, an angel was standing right before me, with a stunning smile on her ruby lips.
"Please, won't you escort a lonely lady on this lovely Christmas Eve?" she said with imploring eyes.
"Listen to that angelic song...Don't you think it's worth taking the time?"
Indeed, I could hear the soft, divine song, a girl's voice sang a Christmas song and even though I could not make out the words I was entranced. The candle-lit windows seemed so inviting and warm, they cast a spell on me.
She came closer, the gorgeous woman all dressed in white and touched my arm with her long delicate fingers. Such a perfect, outworldly face I thought and sighed. How and why could I refuse such a request..escorting a glorious lady to church..
And so I let her slender arm slither around mine and together we trod the untouched snow towards the charming, little chapel.
I pushed the door open and the lady walked inside, the candle light warmed my face and the girl sounded  even more divine as I went in.

The door closed behind me with a heavy thud.

The lights, the song had gone.
The church lay derelict and empty. The round moon had escaped its cloudy prison and now cast its silver light violently on me since there was no roof to keep it out...rumble and ruins was all I saw around me and in panic I searched for the lovely lady that had lured me in.

They were both there, standing under the flood of silver light, looking at me with a faint smile drawn on their lips.
I ran for the door, I pushed with all my might but the door had sealed.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHO ARE YOU? What kind of magic is this?" I screamed and wept.
They looked at eachother tenderly and then the woman nodded to the girl who took a step forward and unbuttoned her fury, white coat and let it drop on the floor.

Underneath, she was wearing a white night-gown, her small slender arms hung loose on her sides, she looked so small and fragile..
Just then I noticed that the skin which lay bare below her throat rippled in an abnormal way.
A hand, I swear, I saw a hand move beneath her skin and then another, the girl's body convulsed and then her skin started to break. A face was drawn behind her feeble night gown where her waist was supposed to be and then the girl fell backwards.

I screamed as these demons burst out of her and glidded like ghosts towards me; horrid and ghastly, putrid and abhorrent. I stepped backwards, tripped on a wooden plank and fell.
Unbearable pain burnt my back; I couldn't move.

The woman's face shone above me next to the face of the blinding moon and then the ghostly things came over my chest.
"Don't be afraid," she sang to me "They'll collect what they need and then you'll go.."
"Please.."I muttered
I felt the woman's cold fingers caressing my forehead and saw the ripples at the base of her neck and then bony hands were formed before her skin broke and those things came out.
"What do you want?", I cried "Please...please.."
They rested above my chest and then in unison they started cutting my skin. I could feel  their teeth and nails and felt my blood before I saw it soaking my blouse and heard the scream, my scream echoing on the walls. Right then the things went for my mouth.

I woke up in the snow, inside the broken church. My back still throbbed when I stood on my two feet and like a maniac took off my coat and blouse; the blood had dried but it was still there.
I searched my chest, looking for the wound or the cut that those witches had inflicted on me but there was nothing, not even a scratch. Nothing but the blood on my clothes.

I feel empty, horrified and contaminated. Will I ever know what it was they took or will I have to wait for next Christmas to find out?

                               

Incantation: Anathema narthis semena

(photo by Eireen)

"Anathema narthis semena.

      The rash of Job,

 Jonah's sea monster,

Jehova's leprocy,

the decay of the Dead,

the trembling of the heart-broken,

the drums and thunders of Hell,

the curses and anathemas of men,

Anathema narthis semena...."

Eyes closed, she whispered the words, with trembling hands she held the bottle and muttered with all her might:

"Anathema narthis semena"

Still a small voice inside her kept asking if all this was worth the trouble.
She was scared and tired and lost and what more was there to be done but this.
She would take her chances and be all that she can be, a witch, the devil,
the one to change the course of history, and die for it.
She had grown sick of her weaknesses and her desires; fears and dreams.
So melodramatic, yet factual.
She smiled and knelt on the stone floor.
She will have to focus if she wants this to work.
No more games with potions and lotions,
this is the real thing,
the Power.
All she has to do is to repeat the incantation until it blends with the air inside her lungs and the winds around her.
A green light shone within her trembling palms,
she lost all focus, her eyes rolled inside their sockets and then,
 she saw:

She was standing on a high platform, grey clouds were running fast above her.
Thousands upon thousands of people below her, all calling her name.
She saw the rain falling on her cloak and on her feet but she felt nothing,
neither its moisture on her face nor the smell of the wet earth.

Then she spread her arms and flew up above,
above the clouds and the rain, where the sun shone the brightest,
but still no warmth penetrated her skin, as if standing behind a frozen glass, trapped, she felt nothing.
She wanted to feel the fear, the terror and the despair but none came and then the image of a son;
she should go to him to feel.

So she flew to the place where she called home and the boy opened the door, all dressed in velvet,
his face froze and his eyes went blank as they fell upon her,
he turned around and never looked back,
and still she felt nothing, no anger, no despair, no sorrow.
She entered the house and walked around,
the thick carpet lost an inch each time she stepped upon it,
and everyone bowed as she crossed their path, none looked at her in the eyes,
heads low, perhaps of disgust, but she did not care to ask.

The tall floor mirror stood against the wall at the far end of the corridor.
A lavinshly made looking glass,
with a gold gilded frame.
She stood in front of it and looked across.

A tiny scream echoed in the vaults of her mind and as it grew louder she pierced the reflection with her eyes,
and tried to perceive what was the thing she saw.

Herself an open wound, a leper, an abomination,
her hands old and rotten, wet with pus and slime,
her eyes empty, sockets dry and flaky,
her red hair was no more and in its place her skull shone like a wet stone.
A walking dead, a rotting corpse.
She opened her mouth to catch a breath
and black gore ran out and fell on the floor.

Dead yet alive,
weak yet strong
her youth, her life, all gone.

The sound of breaking glass brought her back,
her hands had let go.
His face, his lovely eyes had pierced her soul,
she wanted this no more.

(This bloodless story was written for Anna, a dear friend and fellow reader,
 who wished for something without blood but with all the rest that my stories have.
 I hope she finds this to her satisfaction.)                                                       

Down in old River Fleet / Lovely, sweet Adeline

                   (painting by Will Murai)
                                                                               
                                                                               I

"Before St Pancras Hotel was built,

before the trains distrurbed their sleep,

notorious slums were buzzing all around

stinking River Fleet.

In here the butchers dumped their rotten meat,

and the many 'houses of office' relieved the passers-by

of outcoming shit,

London's royal crap floated here,

in old River Fleet.

By 1733 the stench woke up the dead in the cemeteries all around,

(I'd know 'cause I put them there)

the graves shone like a sparkling jewel,

dumped in shit,

all around stinking River Fleet.

In 1846 a sewage explosion occured,

that covered the area even more in shit,

(if that could be)

THAT was where I used to live,

down in old River Fleet.

Looking at St Pancras old hotel,

I start to weep, 'cause I was there,

covered in blood and gore and hair,

in one of the two triple rooms,

(I was somewhat more theatrical back then).

I start to weep 'cause I was there,

when they covered River Fleet,

and when the lovely rooms were

electically lit back in 1885,

in old River Fleet."

"Why are you telling me all this, you slimmy creep?

WHAT DO I CARE OF OLD RIVER FLEET?

If you are going to kill me spare me the grand tour and the shit!"

"But oh, you WILL learn to love River Fleet,

You will....eventually.."

II

"You were so right...this is my home,

where else was I supposed to go,

these are my people, this is my blood,

flowing freely on the brick wall."

Their pale faces clung on the wall,

with reptile tongues they licked the blood

they craved for more,

 his throat they tore.

"Don't be afraid, you shall not die,

your brothers and sisters and I

will never, ever lie.

You'll hunt for more blood,

more people will come,

you'll bring them to me,

just  like the way it used to be,

before Adeline...our love, our mother, ceased to live."

All movement and sound stopped

at the mention of her name,

then a growl and a painful howl,

then bitter silence pierced the air.

"Adeline, Adeline...more blood will spill for Adeline.."

III

"Adeline,

our beloved Queen.

We bathed in blood,

she gave us unconditional love,

but she always wanted more,

more blood, more power over all,

until she met her match

in the face of the mighty Beast.

Oh Adeline,

 you were our immortal Queen".

"It must be found!"

"We must avenge her death!"

"But who should we send to the Beast's lair?"

They all looked at him, the newcomer against the wall,

he seemed strong,

and fresh, and tasty...

they can't be wrong.

"Down in old River Fleet the Beast now dwells,

he snatched Adeline from our own hands.

It's here I feel it, beneath our feet,

and still it feeds on poor Adeline.

I brought you here, you're bound to me,

you kill the Beast, I'll set you free,

should you defy me,

I'll suck you dry..."

"You go!" the poor man said

"You're old and strong and a true Beast yourself,

how am I supposed to kill the thing,

LOOK AT ME!

I AM ALMOST DEAD!"

The young man fell on the brick floor,

he wanted to weep,

to run for the door.

IV

"I SHALL NOT. I PREFER TO DIE!

RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!

And as for poor Adeline,

she deserved to be eaten,

to be butchered alive.

I DONT CARE

DAMN YOU ALL!

I hope the Beast eats your soul".

They surrounded him,

all his clothes were ripped.

First the flesh,

then the heart,

then they pulled him apart.

They sucked all his juice

and his saulty meat,

Down in old River Fleet.

The dead man's eyes opened wide,

he smiled and let out a cry.

Then a thin, small thing lifted its tiny head and revealed its teeth.

Its small spidery hands

were raised from inside

the dead man's lungs

and swirled at them,

devoured their throats.

The Beast had hidden oh.. too well

in the yound man's dead shell.

The great, old vampire started to run,

but the beast caught him by the arm,

and with a reeking breath,

the Beast sent the immortal to hell,

to meet dear, sweet Adeline

Down In Old River Fleet.

(down in old river Fleet, London)

Give me your heart (The Queen of Hearts)

                                  
                           

"How do you feel when you break the meaty surface with your teeth?"

"Do you chew or merely swallow?"

"Do you suck its juice or let it drip?"

"How old are you, really?"

"Who makes your dresses?"

She took a deep breath of pleasure and closed her eyes. More than 100 heart beats were celebrating her first appearance in public. She looked at the woman in the front row, the one who asked about the dresses.

"My dresses are my own designs" her metallic voice rang, "A friend makes them for me and in return

I give her something small to yearn.

You over there! My pretty girl you seem to have a soft heart. Come closer,

I won't give you a start."

There was laughter in the room.

"The rituals I perform, the hearts that I consume,

keep me young and warm,

for more than you can possibly assume."

The woman sat at her feet and touched the hem of her dress,

she adored her, like the rest of the press.

Flashes all around her, she turned on the left to show her paler side.

"I have a freezer to keep them fresh, however I must confess,

there's no more room left...what should I do...

where to keep them, my house is full!"

"In the basement!"

"Down the shute!"

They shouted to her amazement,

they all had what it took.

"We love you, we love you..."

"I have your tattoo.."

"RIP MY HEART OUT TOO!!!"

More people had come,

they begged her for more,

she waved an ivory hand,

 to those who screamed at the back.

"What do I do with a freshly harvested heart?

I boil and bake and fry and stuff,

some I eat raw, I enjoy that part."

The crowd grew restless, they had come for more after all.

She closed her eyes and stood up, hands outstretched, she looked up above.

A musical voice escaped her lips:

GIVE ME YOUR HEART
GIVE ME YOUR HEART
OR I"LL RIP IT APART

One by one their chests slowly bled, with knives and forks and nails and chairs.

It was no easy job, after all!

One helped the other on this gruesome task,

nobody screamed, they all laughed.

The red glistening balls

 made a heap on the floor.

Blood splattered on the walls,

they all fell smiling like broken dolls.

She stepped down to the heap of hearts,

and lay upon them like a small girl sleeping on the grass.

"Now where to put them all..." she muttered sadly

 and took a bite from the ripest, bloody ball,

 deep in thought and contemplation.

photo by Natalie Shau

Stunning she was... (The Herald came)



.....but wicked and evil. She had blood in her hands and in her hair and she sat there in front of her mirror smacking her lips and licking the tips of her fingers.

She had killed yet another. Hearing movement behind the door, she threw her shawl around her throat and glided towards the door...room service.

The young man walked inside unafraid and unarmed because he knew something she did not..that he was already dead.....

He walked inside and stood before her with a wide smile drawn on his rosy lips.
This made her feel unprecedented unease.
"What can I do for you young man. You are foolishly brave to have come." She said softly and assumed her  pose sitting on her chair.
She pulled her shawl away from her round breasts, yet left it hang and crossed her ivory legs
slowly.
The young man walked behind her chair,
and leaned right beside her head.
She looked in the mirror to catch a glimpse of his face and terror overwhelmed her..there was no face to behold.
She swirled at him with ready claws, to rip, to tear his face, to gulp his eyeballs whole, though she felt full, indeed, and met The Mouth, a huge, black gaping hole.
It was rotten and reeking and huge. It covered her face and sucked her in.
She pulled back, and tried to pull the head apart.
But it was too late. She heard it suck her in; her beauty, the stolen blood, her flesh.
Its poison melted her cheekbones and drilled into her marrow.

Her heart reached her mouth. He pulled it right out.

Her shawl fell on the floor; there was a throat no more to hold it on.
Scarlet spewing from her throat's hollow, she staggered towards the sill,
decapitated, not yet lifeless,
there was no thrust, only disgust,
when she tried to grasp where was once her head.

The Herald left as he had come,
the deed was done....

PART II

      Stunning she was,

      but she should have known that competition was getting rough,

she should have left for a while, not stay and laugh,
at the face of what was yet to come.

Thousands upon thousands of beasts feed on human flesh,

all  thirsty and hungry and cold,
without a trace of a soul.

They roam the streets night and  day  enslaving our minds, ensnaring our bodies, our senses, devouring our souls..

When one of them is on the loose,

the Herald is brought to set things straight,

Its Mouth is never late

it feeds upon familiar hate, its own kind without remorse.

From the bloody womb of the Earth's core,

the Herald feeds on rotting gore,

but when he doesn't get his share,

he rises above and settles his score.

Dregs

          

         What am I looking...what I am looking for,

but the truth inside the dregs.

How long will I live for,

how will I die,

where will I go,

will I meet somebody, anybody new,

will my plans fall through,

or will I fail to succeed,

which I want to believe

is not meant for me?

The dregs, the dregs will tell me...let me see...

I see a cross, a white large cross,

which is good.

 A ceremony, a wedding perhaps,

all in good mood.

What's that black thing over there...

Oh..it's a crow...bad news,

I knew that.... I swear,

and a tall man will come to me, he'll say things..

oh! he holds a key!

A key to a locked door...

that was what I was hoping for!

And who's that woman over there?

With raven hair...she has a child in her care..?

That could be me, I guess that's true,

but she looks so old and dark and blue!

That's not me! I'm young and fresh.

No..no..she's definitely someone else!

The dregs sometimes go very wrong,

the cup is dark...this takes too long...

The black blobs around the brim have come to pass..

there's the money I owe and the money I'll get back at long last,

a very narrow road lies straight ahead,

perhaps my fortune is hidden there instead.

The middle blobs will make me weep...

...a dear friend is bound to leave..

But what's that at the bottom of the cup,

where the affairs closer to the heart lie flat?

A gory tale will meet its fiery end,

and will eventually be sent.

(This will come to pass

 when I find the time to write at last)

The dregs have spoken once more,

I'd better go see who's at the door...

Anticipation (Anna was waiting)

Anna was waiting for a knock on the door.

It was dark but for the fire which roared at her feet.

The flames licked the logs and cracked loudly.

Her small hands curled tightly on her lap,

they desperately needed some blood,

so white they were.

The grandfather clock in the corner

ticked the seconds away,

each a month, each a lifetime apart,

past midnight, past Christmases and summers

and birthdays and lunches.

Drizzle tapped on the window,

the logs cracked loudly and the grandfather clock banged,

twice at every breath

but Anna waited stubbornly

for a knock on the door.

She could have shaken the fire,

could have watched the rain fall,

could have winded the clock..

But she was furiously waiting for a knock on the door.

head jerked to the left...was that a tap or a knock?

Her chair creaked, her skirts swished,

her small creamy hand curled around the brass, round knob.

She let out some air,

and invited it in.

All the words-she-left-unsaid

All the words-she-left-unsaid have retreated on the roof of her mouth turning textures into grains.

Then, she swallowed hard to be rid of them because causing problems is the last thing she wanted, so they went down and into the bloodstream, seeking to return to the royal palace, where they were born.

Their journey had been in vain.

Soon, the familiar crystal grounds lay before them.

The glass palace of her brain was crammed with visitors, passers-by and refugees,

many of whom were gathered outside the glass doors waiting to be received,

something which was rarely refused.

The doors slowly opened and a tiny creature with small ears and a huge mouth made his announcement:

"New Secrets and New Lies, New Ideas, New preconceptions, New Pains, New Guilts and New Angers and Fears, welcome to her majesty the Architect!

As you know, there is room for everyone, however, you need to be patient for we need to avoid desperation at all costs.

We have prepared an excellent buffet for you all, in the garden of imagination,

where you can rest, eat, get fat and become obsessions.

When your number comes up, which can be at any time, you shall enter the dome and find your assigned drawer. Thank you for your patience."

Everyone walked to the garden of imagination for the amazing feast, all but all the words-she-left-unsaid.

They were not new, so they could not follow the others.

Soon the doors opened again and another funny creature appeared. This one had no eyes, only huge ears hanging from the sides of its head. In its hands, it was holding a thick leather volume.

"May I be of some assistance?" he said with a soft voice.

All the words-she-left-unsaid climbed the steps and presented their case.
Since they were unsaid and not new where should they go?
"We had no choice but to come back to our birthplace."
"No, no, no, no...." said the small creature. "You cannot stay here, it's not healthy! You should find another way out soon, or you'll turn into ghosts!!!!"
"Ghosts..." muttered all the words-she-left-unsaid.
"Another way out..." this was unheard of..
All the words-she-left-unsaid looked at each other in fear and awe.
"Yes, yes, yes..:" said the creature. "I shall give the order to the hand to fetch a pen and at the right moment you have to jump out, timing is crucial here!" said the little thing.
"You should leave immediately, you have overstayed as it is...you look a bit airy already... and smell the air..anger is rising. There will be a storm unless you get out of here. We don't want another flood...no,no,no,we're still mopping from the flood of 2004." The little scared creature looked up at the red sky, as if it could actually see it.
"A spark of insipation will carry you to the assigned place"
"Maybe we should wait for her at the feast.." all the words-she-left-unsaid said.
"Hell no! The last thing we want is to get you fatter than you already are...Aaahh..I am told that she is here. Goodbye, I hope I never hear the same of you again!" said the thing and went inside the glass palace.
The spark of inspiration raised its sails and carried them though the beating heart, to Cape Right Hand.
Then the Hand started to move and pure light fell on ther feeble heads. Their time had come, they will not be unsaid any more.
One by one they joined the light:

You-stole-it-you-sick-little-thief jumped first and turned to light.

You-died-before-i-had-my-chance dived and let out a joyful shout.

I-still-crave-for-your-acceptance danced in the air.

Stop-undermining-my-intelligence-you-fat-bitch turned into smoke and disappeared.

I-won't-buy-you-anything-else-unless-i-get-my-money-back turned into a smudge and lost all consciousness.
I'm-sorry-for-not-being-there-I'm-just-not-strong-enough was washed away by a passing tear.

I-hate-seeing-your-distorted-grumpy-face-all-the-time turned into a smile.

You-are-obsessed-and-full-of-guilt-stop-harassing-me broke the pencil....

thank goodness all of them were out...or were they?

Poor I-need-more-time-to-write stood there trapped and watched its small limbs disappear....




(painting by Octavio Ocampo)



The whirlpool in the sink and the stolen car (in the dead of night)

Dead tired she was

with a ton of things on her mind,

all she wished for was sleep

yet she couldn't find the strengh

to leave the dishes behind.

So she washed and she scrubbed,

until all was really clean,

then she pulled out the plug,

and stared at the whirlpool in the sink.

When even that was gone,

she headed for bed,

thinking intensively

of what she could have done instead.

She could butcher her husband in the dead of night,

she can eat her children alive,

she could go to a weird bar,

in a brand new stolen car,

and flay the patrons alive.

Her eyes closed fast,

she was sleeping at last,

her subconscious self,

armed her with a machine gun instead.

She won battles, she killed armies,

and her boss and the grocer,

nothing but a loser and a tosser,

she had stolen the car,

and had gone to the weirdest freaking bar,

her husband was there dressed as a nun.

She was laughing out loud

they were having some fun,

then she started to run,

all the way to the sun!

There's nothing better indeed,

than a good night's sleep,

to let out some steam,

in a wild and bloody paranoid,

sweet and sour dream.

Goodnight.



Painting by William E. Rochfort

The meeting

"Where are you?" the thin mental voice asked.

"I'm on the train to Rome" she thought hurriedly back.

She closed her eyes and saw her there,

sitting in a Queen Anne velvet armchair,

drinking red herb tea.

"Listen carefully for I shall speak of this only once,

we can't afford to take another chance."

"I hear you, go ahead and talk about the task

speak fast, it's only a few hours before dusk.

"The loom that weaves the cloth

which separates the worlds

is kept beyond the dying ashes

of the burning sea.

Once a year the loom weaves

the magic veil

which thins and fades as the year passes

until it can't be seen.

The night that darkenss conquers light,

the night the veil falls at witches' will,

that night we shall cross the gate

and find the loom before it starts to weave.

The candle shall burn

for hours nine

enough to brew, enough to cast the spell.

Its cogs and wheels, its threads and heddles

shall be altered beyond repair.

The newly woven veil

shall always grant us pass

to all the worlds at last.

The darkest spirits and lightest nymphs,

will be called to do our deeds,

for all I want and all you wish

we and only we shall keep the keys.

The woman drank her bitter tea,

eyes glistering

she looked at her,

the smoke had all but gone,

her smile shone back beneath the veil.

"What is it that you wish?"

"I want to roam and fly free wherever I wish,

I want people to shrink at my command

and keep them in a chocolate box

to play with when I please".

A knock was heard on the door..

"I need to go, take care.."

the smoke, the train were gone.

She placed the herb tea on the pink lace tablecloth and sighed,

twenty-two nights were not that long.

"you have a childness in you that I would like to crush"

Most people misunderstand it, others feel intimidated by it but most are absolutely envious of it.

It's the sparkle of enthusiasm that comes out as a flare and blinds the soul-dead. The unhindered laughter that echoes in the adult -club of the overworked. The life that is perceived as an infectious disease to the zombie- sedated, money-driven, self-obsessed grown-ups of today's Matrix.

"I cannot allow you to have something that I have allowed to die. You must be what I am so that I can feel good about my self."

She is pressured from all corners. Closing her eyes she takes a deep breath. Fresh baked bread from the bakery across the street, the vaccum cleaner making a racket from the flat above, the soft mush of the gutted pumkin in her hand....

Something like that never dies, it lives on even when you are dead. It leaves ripples in the pool of life that affect others for many years after. And then it is recognised for what it truly was. A strong appetite to harverst all life's potential.

-"You have a childness in you that I would like to crush"

-"Hearing you say it scares me. I'd rather go.."

getting there

I'm all set and with the best intentions. All I wanted to say is on paper, all revised and checked. The wheels are in motion, the story is on the run and there is no going back now. The characters are waiting for me to give the signal to fight to the end, more blood is going to be spilt, destinies will be decided and kingdoms will perish. Some will die, others will live and I, the all mighty God of their universe, am standing on the highest hill overlooking the battlefield waiting for the right moment.

I shouldn't have picked this outfit. This is a battlefield after all. Boots and pants would have been more appropriate but its my feeling that I will come out of it unscathed and victorious that led me choose these shoes and the white dress. I wouldn't want my characters to look better than me. I want to them to feel at ease at this dire moment.

This isn't a battle of good and evil, right and wrong, love and indifference, this is a battle of characters, of power over others, of personal fears and insecurities in a fictional land where there are no rules. Everyone is playing their game, and some games are just not good enough. In a land made of blood, death is irrelevant, physical pain is non-existent and the concept of life is negotiable.

Yet I am happy for it, therefore the shoes.

Let's hope she never wakes



Waiting. For Christmas, for the next holidays, for the week to be over, for the train, for my son to go to bed, for Sunday lunch, for the next movie to come out, for inspiration to come, for the next lesson, for the flu to pass, for the next trip abroad, for more time on my own.

And when all these things come, I start waiting all over again.

On the other hand, there are things that I have stopped waiting for, either because I realised they would never come or because I lost interest.

For the next drama, for the man of my dreams, for the next night out, for understanding, for revenge, for justice, for my mother to change. Some things never change regardless of how much you wait.

I see myself waiting and I try to fill the wait with here and now things. It helps my self-esteem.

Her prince must have died or lost his marbles by now. I hope she never-ever wakes.

Freckles

Marina Bychkova's doll.

It looks so real it is upsetting. A real woman trapped inside a tiny porcelain body. Her lifetime of stories and words pinned on her face, yet she cannot speak.

I feel more comfortable when a doll comes with a guilt-free certificate; then you can swing her by the leg, cut her hair and put silly clothes on her. This doll demands your respect and gets it without effort. She looks experienced, wise, tortured even and you can do nothing but stare, pamper her and wonder if you are keeping her happy.

These dolls are pure witchcraft.

If these were the middle ages, they would have been thrown in the pyre or hidden inside secret stone vaults. One or two would have survived the Inquisition. They would be afraid to break them open in the case of evil spirits being released in the world, so they would put bury them.

Some of them would be put on altars and be the witnesses of blood sacrifices and prayers. Holy men would steal them for their pleasure.. and fall madly in love with them.

These dolls provoke inspiration.

Autumn spirits

Living in a big city costs you in many ways. I watch the seasons come and go from the gardens and flower pots around me. I smell jasmin and see the fig tree in the back garden. There is an ancient almond tree that tells me when winter is close and when spring is due but it's always too soon. It think it's the extra heat that has its clock all mixed up.

When I see pictures like this I feel overwhelmed by what I am missing. The whistle of the air travelling around the trees, the rustle of the falling leaves, the colours dancing in front of your eyes and the constant change of the road in front of you as you walk down the path. The smell of moist earth, the inspiration that sneaks in your head when you close your eyes for just a second.

I miss it though I never had it, not really, not like this.

Autumn is full of emotions and memory. It's the underlying sadness that enriches it, the glorious death of beauty. Like a last firework of browns, burgundies, yellows and reds; nature's last breath, whose phoenix-like death will push the wheel of life to spin once again.

Grant me a wish!

Talking about wishes this morning only brought us to a dead end.

I think that wishing for things and working towards them is a positive way to look at life because you keep discovering new things about you and the world around you but this other wise friend of mine said that wishes only bring pain, fear and anxiety. You should be happy and content with your life as it is.

I have learnt from experience that if you really want something, in the end you get it, with the condition of course that you don't give up working towards it. So why stop wishing if you know that in the end you will have what you wished for? Even in the event that your wish isn't fulfilled, because you didn't try enough or because you were really unlucky, the time you spent visualising yourself achieving your goal is time well spent. It made you happy and urged you to try harder.

I would like to hear what other people think about this. So it you come across these lines do pass your experience around for others and me of course to read.

the singing buttler

Trying hard not to fall,

What am I thinking?

I follow his steps.

Bloody rain, bloody baron, bloody song.

Raindrops the size of golf balls blur my eyes,

the silk dress is soaked, my ruined hair whips my cheek,

he's insane, look at the maid weep.

The bag...the bag is at her feet.

He sings all wrong, I can't hear a word,

Keep focused, the bag is all you want.

The stuff inside will make you rich

I hope he slips and breaks his hips.

I'll catch a cold, my feet are sore,

I am frozen to the core.

A turn of a screw is all I need

to make him fall, to steal the bling.

I watched him take it from the bank

Napoleon's necklace,

he'll sell it for some land,

the stupid baron of royal rank.

Three hundred diamonds belong to me

romantic bastard bedding ME.

I think the song is about to end.

-Let's get off this roof sweet darling, I am all spent..

take me inside, warm me up,

send these people away, we don't need them

...it's alright, look, I'll carry the bag.