Auroraphobia’s Senseless Ranting

Nobody is perfect, nobody is sane.

I walked quietly down the hospital hallway.,

Infected.

We’d been here for months, waiting for that cure. They told us we were infected, that we had to wait here to die.

Infected.

The Disease was lethal, in the slowest sense of the word. None of us had died yet, but even now, three months after we were sent here, the gasmasked doctors keep pointing out the signs.

Liars are perfect. Liars are sane.

I reached the door, readying myself for the news. The news on the progress of the Disease.

Infected.

I knocked on the door, a muffled, “Come in.” Dr. Lee, gasmask as usual.

“Lya, good to see you.”

“You too, Dr. Lee.” Well, no, actually I hate seeing you.

“Lya… we’re sorry. No, I am sorry, really I am, but… inside you, according to our recent tests, the Disease has progressed beyond a point where we can control it. You’ll have to me moved to another wing of the hospital.”

Infected.

“I. Feel. Fine.” I ground my teeth. They were constantly moving people to “the other wing.” We were separated from them, so we never saw them after  they moved. Families, infected families, had been separated.

“I know, Lya. You always feel fine. It is a smart disease, you don’t know you have it until it take over your entire body. Then you’re dead.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” I glared.

“You’ll be leaving immediately.” He pressed a button, and a few seconds later a man walked through the door.

“Follow him.”

People are false. People tell lies.

He, the man not the doctor, walked me to a door labeled “Danger.”

Infected.

“Go in.” He said, gruffly. He opened the door, then slammed it behind me. I was in a white room labeled “Airlock.” There was a door on the other side.

A voice came over a set of speakers I couldn’t see.

“Lya, this is Dr. Lee. If you wouldn’t mind, we need you to step through the next door, and shut it firmly behind you.”

I did.

Infected.

The next room was all white and smelled like bleach.

“Stand still.” Dr. Lee’s voice told me.

I did.

“I’m sorry, Lya.” It said, as I realized that I was losing energy, fast. The smell of bleach got stronger, and slowly, oh-so-slowly, the world went black.

Leaders are liars, only try to defy.

I saw her across the room, across that writhing sea of people. Slowly, oh so slowly, I slipped my way through the crowd towards her. She had her back towards me when I finally reached her; she hadn’t noticed me yet. I wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her slightly-too-high shoulder. She turned her head and kissed me on the cheek, before nodding towards a man wearing a sharply ironed suit.

“Him?” I asked quietly.

She turned around, snaking her arms around my neck. She nodded, leaning forward to whisper in my ear, to ask if I was happy with her choice. I stood up on my toes to kiss her on the forehead, smiling. I let go of her, and she gave me a lingering glance, hoping for reassurance that I liked her choice. I smiled again, and turned away, snaking my way towards the exit.

I reached my car, opened the door. As I got in, I took off those wretched high heels I’d been wearing, throwing them into the back. I opted to drive barefoot rather than bear the pain a moment longer. I pulled out of the parking lot, slowing down as I passed her car, trying to remember if I’d forgotten anything important. No, I thought, I didn’t forget anything.

I drove home slowly, and parked my car on the street next to the one-car-only driveway, leaving it open for her. I got out, walking barefoot to the house. I reached out to unlock the door, realizing we’d left it open. I sneaked through the door, trying not to wake the dogs, and locked it behind me.

Once I’d reached the couch I settled in for a wait, turning the TV on, the volume so low and the room so quiet that I barely remembered that sound existed. An indeterminable amount of time later (maybe seconds, or maybe hours), I heard her key in the lock, and laughter outside the door. I turned the TV off, and went to the kitchen, knowing they wouldn’t go anywhere near there.

As they came inside, the dogs hurried to greet their loud, intrusive voices, barking when they saw the stranger.

“Shhh,” I hear her say to them, “It’s ok.” They finally quieted down then, and I stopped hearing their collars jingle as they moved, they must have gone back to sleep. I heard her say something quietly, and a deep male voice replied. I shuddered when I thought about why he was here. She was mine. Not his.

I heard their footsteps on the stairs, and then heard them on the floor above me. I quietly followed them up, knowing she’d tell him to wait for her, that she would be right back, to just wait right there. I stopped at the top of the stairs, hearing muffled voices from one of the bedrooms. Then, I heard the door open, and shut again, and then I could see her.

She ran to me, quietly of course, and I took her into my arms. “He’s such a slimy bastard.” She whispered to me. I kissed her, smiling.

“You ready?” I whispered back. She smiled and nodded, excited. I let go of her and watched her walk back to the bedroom. She opened the door and slipped inside, leaving it ajar for my benefit.

“I want to show you something,” I hear her say. I heard him get up, and a quiet, unintelligible response. I noiselessly descended the staircase, and hid in the shadows at the bottom, next to the door that lead into the garage.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, I was close enough to hear her whisper to him, “It’s right in here.” She lead him to the door leading to the garage, and opened it, letting him go first. I jumped out of my hiding spot as she slammed the door behind it, locking it from the inside.

I smiled at her. “Well, now, what would you like to do with this one?” I said, not even trying to be quiet. She bit her bottom lip and stared at the ceiling, the perfect picture of an innocent girl thinking.

She tore her eyes from the ceiling, instead staring innocently at me. I laughed, “What is it, baby?” I said. The chewing on her lip became more nervous, but just for a second.

“W-will you scare him for me? And… and, can we make it slow? Maybe painful, too. He was such a bastard.”

“Of course I will, and yes we can.” I laughed again. “Don’t be so nervous.” I murmured, hugging her.

I kissed her on the forehead, and then grabbed a piece of rope from a nearby closet, and opened the door to the garage. The second I did, he pounced. He must have heard our conversation, I thought idly, as I caught his first punch and twisted his arm around so his back faced me. I grabbed his other hand, tying the two together tightly. It wasn’t as if I cared that I cut off the circulation to his hands.

I pushed him back into the empty garage, hard. Without his hands to catch him, he landed flat on his face, and I could hear a crunch, followed by a grunt.

“Bitch!” He yelled. He slowly stumbled to his feet, his nose bleeding profusely. I smiled and walked out, shutting the door behind me, and locking it.

“Get me some more rope, and a knife.” She nodded quickly, and turned to do as I said. “Wait,” I said. “Get me a chair too. Doesn’t matter what kind, just need to give him somewhere to sit.” I winked, and she grinned at me. As she gathered up the items I requested, I went to my car, grabbing those horrid heels I’d been wearing and putting them on.

When I came back inside, she’d gathered everything and was waiting by the door to the garage. I picked up the rope and the knife, and opened the door, telling her to bring the chair after me.

I glanced around, turning an extra light on so that I could see everything better, as I entered the garage. He was sitting against the wall, his head tilted up, to try and slow the bleeding from his nose.

“Come here,” I ordered him. He just glared. “I said come here. Now.” He continued to ignore what I said, and tilted his head back again. I stalked over to him, my heels clicking. Click, clack, click, clack. He tried to kick me, but I dodged it easily. I grabbed the collar of his suit, dragging him to his feet. I pushed him out ahead of me, towards where my lovely little helper had placed the chair.

I stopped him in front of the chair and pushed him down into it. Then, I tied each of his feet to a leg of the chair and tied more of the rope around his shoulders and the back of the chair, keeping him there. He started yelling.

“Aww, I was hoping he’d cooperate. Baby, could you go get me a rag?” She nodded, and ran off. I smiled after her, lost in thought for a second. When she got back, I stuffed the rag into our captive’s mouth, tying the last bit of rope around his head to keep the rag there. His yelling stopped short.

“I h-have an idea,” she whispered to me. I nodded, signaling for her to keep going. “T-target practice.” She said. I grinned, and kissed her, taking her into my arms.

“That’s a lovely idea.” I said. “Mind gathering the supplies?” As she did, I painted a target on our captive’s chest. His eyes went wide. I grinned. Soon, she was back, paint-ball guns in hand. For the next hour or so, we amused ourselves by missing the target and instead hitting places that got more of a reaction out of him.

Soon, we tired of his reactions. “Shall we be done with him?” I asked. She yawned, obviously tired. Sleepily, she nodded. She ran off, anticipating what I was going to ask her to get. While she was gone, I initiated a staring contest with the captive, to see how much will he had left in him. The answer was none, he glanced away the second I started. “We’ve done well,” I whispered to myself.

When she got back, she first handed me a tarp, which I spread out in the middle of the room. Then, I moved his chair (with him still on it) so it sat in the middle of the tarp. “Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?” I asked her.

“Could I?” She asked, meekly. I nodded. She pulled out the gun that she had also brought. She leveled it at him, and shot. I smiled, seeing that she’d hit him right between those wide, scared, frozen eyes. I yawned, and took the gun from her, putting it on the tarp.

“Lets deal with him in the morning, I’m tired.” She nodded gratefully. Before we left for bed, I took off my high heels yet again, throwing them at his stomach. She glanced up at me, questioning. “Just wanted to make sure he was dead.”

I do not know what it is, but I just can’t write when I’m at my dad’s house. Dunno what it is. Right now I’m in Crested Butte. Commonly misinterpreted as Crusted Butt. Or Crusty Butt, whichever you prefer. But, anyway, right now I’m actually writing things, and thats the point of this post.

-NoI’mNotAlive

Ok, maybe that isn’t the title, but you get the point.

“Fuck.” I said. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I half rolled, half fell out of bed, somehow managing to pull on a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt before stumbling to the kitchen and throwing the coffee pot at the coffee maker. I heard a crack.

“Godammit.” I drowsily walked over to it, and shoved it in, hoping it wouldn’t leak now. I took my morning shot of vodka, hoping it would take up the space in my head that the throbbing hangover was fighting to occupy. I pulled myself up onto the counter, waiting for the coffee to be done.

“Oh, fuck you.” I muttered to the coffee maker as I noticed I hadn’t turned it on. A girl walked in, wearing only underwear. Particularly lacy and not-so-opaque underwear, too.

“Fuck who?” She asked.

“Want some coffee?” I countered. I couldn’t remember this girl. She’d probably slept over the night before. Hopefully she’d leave soon.

She walked over and kissed me, but I pulled away. “Go away,” I said.

“Why?”

“Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“Oh…” She said. I went back into the bedroom and grabbed what I thought were her clothes. When I returned to the kitchen I shoved them into her arms, and opened the front door for her.

“Goodbye, nice to meet you, hope the sex was good, not that I can remember it,” I said.

Before she could answer, I pushed her gently out the door and slammed it behind her. She was still mostly naked.

And then I remembered her. Not her, that stupid slut that I’d probably just gotten AIDS from, but her. A little voice in my head told me I shouldn’t be thinking about her, it wasn’t worth it, she wasn’t coming back. And then it was the delusional voice in my head talking, but maybe she is. And then I was on the floor, leaning against the door, writhing in the sweet, sweet, excruciating memories.

I could see her eyes, those sweet blue eyes that spoke of laughter. Her smile, wide and inviting, her hair running down her back in gentle waves. I remember that she had loved me… Remembered her ringing laugh as she told me so. And then I remembered her tears. How she’d cried, tears dripping down her cheeks, as she’d left me. Walked out. I remembered why, too… It was so painful.

She’d taken me to a party. Said we would have fun, said she’d teach me to dance. But, I’d gotten drunk. She hated me drunk. Hated what I did when I was. She left the party, leaving me to fend for myself. And then there was another girl… I’d thought she was so beautiful, in my drunken, delusional state. Maybe, just maybe, she actually was. But she wasn’t worth it. She’d seduced me with that lovely voice… that beautiful pale skin… that long, silky black hair…

A knock at the door. “Fuck off,” I mumbled as I got up. I pulled the door open harshly, the knob falling off in my hand. “Dammit.” I looked up from the broken pieces in my hand to see the girl from last night… At least I think it was last night.

“Umm…” She glanced at the ground, shy apparently. “Th-these aren’t my clothes.” She handed them back to me. Relics from past adventures that again I couldn’t remember, I’m sure.

“Eh, one second.” I said. I went back into the bedroom, picking up yet another pile of clothes that weren’t mine. When I came back, she was in my living room, perched on the table. “These yours?” I grunted.

She nodded, and I took my first good look at her as I gave her the soiled clothing. She had wide hips, a slim waist. She had pale skin, long, black hair…

“Thank you,” she said, shyly. Her voice… lovely, birdlike. And then I was on the floor again. Writhing in the sweet, sweet, excruciating memories.

I don’t like this one as much as I like Malky, because it was slightly more original the first time I used it.

Richie stared across the room at the girl, who was struggling to free herself from the ropes tying her tightly to the chair. He had had to tie the chair, in turn, to a post in the warehouse, because she struggled so much. She already had several bruises on the sides of her face from falling sideways in the chair.

“You’re my second friend you know, Malky was my first. Did you know him? I think his name was Malcolm Hill.” He said.

“Friend? You’ve kidnapped me and tied me to a chair and you’re calling me your friend?” She paused a second, fuming. “Yes, I knew him. He was the mayor, of course I knew him.”

“Malky… My lovely Malky, he was the mayor, wasn’t he? I forgot about that.” Richie seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. “Oh, my lovely girl, I’m deeply sorry, but I’ve forgotten your name.”

Glaring, she managed to slip one of her hands out of the ropes that were holding her in place. “Why should I tell you? You’re probably going to kill me, why would you care?”

“Well, my dear girl, my lovely sweetheart, I’ve grown quite attached to you.”

She sighed, “My name is Ellen Wayne. Since you’re so attached to me, why don’t you let me go without hurting me?”

“Hmm… Ellen Wayne… I’ll call you Elly. Elly and Richie, we sound like comic book partners in crime.” He walked over to her seat and tied her hand back into the knot of rope at the back of the chair. Richie leaned down and kissed his lovely Elly on the cheek. “My dear, you’re very beautiful when you’re afraid.”

When she didn’t say anything, he walked to the middle of the room, turning around and around as if looking for something. He started going from door to door, locking each, as he said, “My sweet little Elly, you’ve been sitting there so long, would you like to get up and stretch your legs? We could make a game out of it. We could play tag. Doesn’t that sound fun, my lovely little sweetheart, my dear little Elly?”

She glared, still not talking. He finished locking the doors, and untied Elly, “I’ll be it first, you can have a few seconds head start.”

She ran, checking all the doors as she went by them. They were all locked. He didn’t bother chasing her. When she got to the other side of the room, he let out a piercing whistle. Two burly men appeared out of seemingly nowhere, grabbing Elly and carrying her struggling back. He tapped her on the forehead. “You’re it.”

He started running, and a second later the two men who had carried Elly across the room let her go and disappeared again. She just stood there. After a while Richie ran back to her “Why aren’t you chasing me, my dear?”

She glared again, and gingerly tagged him on the shoulder, then sprinted across the room and stopped at the other side. “Oh, you expect my men to come bring you back again, my darling girl, my wonderful Elly?” He walked over to her, and pulled out a gun.

“Tag.” Boom, “You’re it.” Thud.

I like the idea for this story, but the Dark Knight just came out so its going to be endlessly compared to the Joker until the hype is over. Its not horribly well written, and not very well organized, but for some reason I still like it.

He dragged the struggling, mayor-filled sack across the floor. He dumped it on a couch, and it’s struggling immediately caused it to dump itself onto the floor. He ignored it, limping across the floor of the dank warehouse to a cockroach-infested kitchen. He made himself some coffee, flicking the infernal insects away.  He limped back to the couch and its former occupant.

“Mmmhhmm!” Moaned the sack. “Mmmmnnhmm!” He sat on the couch, leaned down, and untied the top of the sack. Being a mayor-filler sack, as it was, its mayor was a man of many chins.

“Hello, Mr. Mayor,” he said sipping his coffee, “How are you doing today?”

The mayor glared. “The police will find me, you’ll go to jail. You should just let me go now.” He pleaded.

“I couldn’t do that, we haven’t had any fun yet.” He grinned, “My name is Richard, but you can call me Richie.”

The mayor glared again, “I’m hungry.”

“Says the fat man. You’re always hungry, that must be why our city is such a disgrace, all you ever do is eat. Rather than actually do your job.”

The mayor closed his eyes.

“Don’t fall sleep, just yet, my dear mayor, say, what is your name anyway? I really should pay more attention, they’ve been spouting your name all over the place, yelling about how you handled this, or that, or that other thing over there.”

“My named is Malcolm Hill… why am I even telling you this. Why am I here!” Mayor Hill screamed.

“Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm. I think I’ll call you Malky. Malky and Richie, we really do sound good together. But, my dear mayor, my lovely Malky, you are here,” Richie paused, “You are here, to play Truth or Dare!” He laughed giddily.

The newly nicknamed Malky stared. “Ummm… What?”

“Truth or Dare, Dare or Truth, you picked either Truth or Dare and I ask you a question for Truth and dare you to do something for Dare. Come on, you’ll love it, Malky.” He grinned widely, “Pick! Quick, quick, quick, pick, pick, pick!” He made it into a song, and kept singing it, over and over, as he waited for Malky’s reply.

“Well… Truth I guess.”

“Yay! I love truth. So tell me, Mr. Mayor, Mr. Hill, my lovely Malky,” he pulled a notepad and pen out of seemingly nowhere and crossed his legs, mock reporter through and through, “How much does the mob pay you?”

The lovely Malky’s eyes got wide. “But, but, they…” he mumbled something incoherent.

“Malky, Malky, Malky,” Richie said, “No use lying to your good friend Richie, just tell me, I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Richie put on his most innocent expression, which looked more like a viper than anything.

Malky sighed, “They doubled my salary. Will you let me go now?”

“Oh, no, no, no, I couldn’t do that, you have to play again.” Richie grinned a toothy grin, “Truth or Dare?”

Malky’s eyes got wide, his eyebrows raised, the perfect picture of terror. “D-D-Dare.” He managed to stutter out.

“Hehehe, DARE, dare, dare, dare, I like dares.” He leaned down and pulled Malky all the way out of the sack. “Come with me, will you?” Richie got up and limped to the door, pushing Malky ahead of him. Sipping the coffee he had forgotten while they talked.

They ascended some stairs, flight after flight, all the way to the roof. Richie stepped out onto the flat roof of the warehouse, Malky behind him. Richie led Malky over to the edge, which looked out over a busy street, full of pedestrians with cars trying in vain to reach the speed limit without killing anyone.

“Your dare, my dear, is to hit someone on the way down.” Richie pushed his dear, lovely Malky, off the building.

Scream. Crunch. Thud. More screams.

“Very good Malky, you did well.”

Criticisms are welcome. If anyone is even reading my blog at this point. In fact no one is, and no one will, because I challenge your existance.

Might be somewhat disturbing to some people… I guess. Only people that are completely and utterly sheltered from the blood-soaked media. Its called Crimson Hawk, for lack of a better title.

She stepped out of the bathroom, a thick hotel towel wrapped around her. She unwrapped the towel, using it to dry her hair as she walked to the mirror. She got dressed slowly, only half an hour left.  Finally, as she pulled the tight red dress over her head, she heard a knock at the door.

“One minute,” she called in her high, clear voice. “I’m almost ready.”

She quickly arranged the dress around her  slim waist and  brushed out her long, silky black hair. She left her makeup sitting untouched on the bathroom counter along side a bottle of hotel-provided shampoo. She preferred looking natural, she was pretty anyway.

She slipped on her shoes, picked up her purse from the bureau and opened the door  to see the driver of the limo she had hired, ready to escort her to the parking lot.

“Oh, you’re early,” she said.

“Its across town, miss. We wouldn’t want to be late.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She sighed. She couldn’t exactly say she was looking forward to this.

They rode the elevator to the first floor, and as they walked through the lobby to the waiting limo, she caught the stares of men, following her out the door.

The driver opened the rear passenger door of the car, waiting for her to get in before he shut it. She watched the buildings go by as they slowly navigated through the downtown traffic, the rooftops many meters above her head.

They parked in the back, in an empty parking lot reserved for the restaurant’s more important patrons.  She hopped out of the car, not waiting for the driver to open the door for her. Her heels made a click clack, click clack sound on the pavement.

“What is this place called, again?”

“It’s the Crimson Hawk, ma’am, it’s the most prestigious restaurant in town.”  He said, “I’ll be waiting here when you’re done.”

Click, clack, click, clack into the restaurant. She scanned the tables, seeing Vladimir, the man she’d come to meet. She walked towards him, past the suit-clad waiter asking if she had a reservation.

Vladimir stood as she walked towards him, looking her over. From her silky hair to the long, dark red dress and the black heels.

He kissed her on the cheek when she reached him.

“Anya! Its good to see you. I take it your trip here went well?”

She sighed inwardly, small talk, she hated it. She just wanted this to be over. They talked about  his work, and her recent trip to China. They talked for what seemed like years, until finally the food came. They exchanged comments about the food, and later the desserts, until finally it was over. They both stood, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“Its been so nice talking to you, I hope we can arrange another date some time?” She lied through a false smile.

“Of course, that would be lovely, I’ll call you tomorrow. Would you like me to walk you to your car?”

“Oh that would be wonderful.” Her smile was genuine this time. She took his arm as he led her out to her car. Click, clack, click, clack. As they reached the car she dug into her purse, closing her hand around the smooth , comfortable form.

She pointed the gun at his head, grinning at his short-lived terror, and pulled the trigger. As she put the gun back in her bag, she noticed a small spattering of blood on the tinted window. She wiped the blood off with her finger, staring at it as she walked around the car. There stood the driver, calmly holding her door open for her. She licked the blood off her finger and ducked into the car.

“Back to the hotel, if you would.”

The lack of indentation is quite annoying. I should blow it up. I’ll fix that eventually, aka make my Mom fix it. Constructive criticism is welcome, since I know this story is incredibly cliche and not partiularly well-written.