Blue Oyster Cult “I Love the Night”
Lost in the graphite charcoal shadows of half hidden worlds on the wrong side of Murderous Midnight.
A Sterile backdrop.
The Flickering hum of a twitching winking strobe of the hypnotic cold kitchen strip light.
She gazes vacantly into the vacant space
Next to her lies a black mirror pool of dark coagulating gelatinous blood.
Iron smell of aging hours old blood and excrement cloyingly hangs in the balmy hot night air.
The whir and click of the refrigerator keeps snapping its fingers dragging her back to a semblance of reality. Her reality, only confirmed by her shallow deliberate quiet breaths.
The Amber stage limelight providing a dirty orange glow, gloomily illuminating the murderous celluloid scene.
Towering Acts of a Shakeapeareanesque tragedy pitifully played out to the only possible forgone critical conclusion.
She sits staring at her hollow past. This, the culmination of years of systematic abuse put to an end right here, next to her on the cold judgemental linoleum.
Her past lying dead next to her.
A twinge of pain in her bleeding broken ass hole sends a waking wave of electrical justification, appeasing her tormented questioning thoughts.
The scene, re run again and since played out a thousand times in her aching head.
Frantically Searching …..
Searching desperately, for a different outcome….. but always reaching the same sickly thudding conclusion.
Too much…it was too much this time.
Violated and broken once too many a time.
Naked from the waste down, hair matted with dry blood and neck stinking of rank mouthed beer breath.
Her waif like body covered in a uniform of angry bruises and bitemarks of varying ages and severity..
Hammered so many times..
Queue ironic fate.
Fate steped in and lent a hand. Played it’s murderous part. As she helplessly leaned broken onto the kitchen table to help get her back to her feet she inadvertently placed her hand on the steak hammer left there, used to tenderise the meat for the attempted peace offering earlier.
The first blow landed on the back of the skull as he walked away from her.
He spun around with a disbelieving incredulous look in his dark eyes. Like a marionette with severed strings he began to lurch and jerk on failing legs.
The next double handed blow landed from a wider arc on the temple dislodging hair with some skull bone fragments attached and felled him like a lumbered redwood. He lay twitching and convulsing on the kitchen floor his lifeblood, moaning and leaking – oozed out of him.
Two hours later, in the longest night of her life she still sat still in silence. The gravity of the situation much too much to contemplate in the deep dark of night.
Mornings Cold unforgiving light would bring the clarity of undeniable truth.
Whatever tomorrow would bring it would remove uncertainty. The uncertainty gone and the possibility of her making another tomorrow.
She would stand and face the future no matter what.
No remorse, she had sent him straight to Hell.
He belonged there.
She was beaten bloodied and violated but remained unbroken.
Her only regret ….that she hadn’t done it sooner.
In the clinical unforgiving inevitable morning, fates wind would blow in the future breeze of change.
From the piling up of layers of silence in the urgent phone call Cal knew something was very wrong. From her staccato tone, interspersed with often pregnant pauses and the phasing in and out between her words Cal knew Jules was in trouble. Cal knew Jules….. This felt serious.
As he drove the three miles to her house a million thoughts ran through his mind racing away with all sorts of horrible permutations. He had to prepare for the worst.That redneck cock of a husband of hers always took umbrage when Cal was around. Getting out of the pick up he reached reassuringly around back of his Jeans and felt the security of the handle of the hunting knife buried in his belt. His anxiety sat like a golf ball in his tight throat. It was 5.30 in the morning and the sun had just crept up over the fir tree horizon. Everything was eerily quiet….too quiet. Adrenaline coursing he strode up to the front door and gave it three deliberate knocks. Time stood still – he fidgeted nervously – off one foot onto the other waiting an eternity for the door to open.
The latch clicked and Jules stood in front of him. She had the face of the haunted. Hair matted, grubby nightdress flecked with crusty dried blood. No words were spoken as she took him by the hand through to the kitchen. Laid out on the kitchen floor was Dwayne in a pool of gelatinous blood. The stench of shit was overpowering as he had obviously lost control of his bowels in his final clamour for life. Two sentinel bluebottles ritualistically worked patterns above the corpse in a time to the flickering amber strobe of strip light. For a moment they hypnotized Cal into a trance and he stared at the enormity of what had happened.
Jules began to sob which broke the spell.
“Jules…..this was always going to happen… it was the only conclusion… the only thing in doubt was would he kill you first”
At the utterance of the word kill Jules began to unravel. She began sobbing uncontrollably uttering a series of garbled justifying nonsense.
Cal took her in his arms for what seemed eternity. He knew he had to help her…he had already calculated the implications but the choice was made.
Within twenty minutes he was back from the hardware store with 20 gallons of bleach and a roll of industrial polythene. He had also purchased a large hack saw. Dwayne was a big mother and he would have to break the job down into manageable chunks. After some intense labour six packages were wrapped and ready to be shipped. He was careful, wore surgical gloves and made sure he didn’t sweat on the fruits of his labour. All the while Jules sat in the living room looking hollowly at inane daytime television. The house stank of bleach which gave Cal a nauseous feeling in the warmth of the late summer Sun.
They would move him under the cover of night.
After a torturous endless day reluctant night finally relinquished wearily shading out the last rays day. At last they could stop jumping at shadows and take the body the 10 mile drive to the coast.
Cal loaded the six neat packages into the back of his pick up. With a dead body in the back and the walking dead in the seat next to him it would be a long silent drive.
As they left the rural town and headed out Cal’s mind began to pay tricks on him. What if tricks….what if Jules cracked and blabbed…she was showing signs of a breakdown? What if the guy at the hardware store was suspicious of his purchases? Shit , he didn’t even take his eyes off his phone and couldn’t give the least of a fuck.
Fuck…ran straight into another vehicle coming at a right angle the other way!!!!
Brakes screeching he came to an abrupt stop..
It seemed like it had all happened in slow mow.
He had hit it side on.
He got out if his pick up just as the tall guy with the beard came screaming out of the drivers side of the saloon. Shouting the odds he looked like a madman.
“Sorry Dude… My fault…I was miles away “said Cal.
“You fucking imbecile…you could Have killed me you dumb fuck”
I didn’t….Look Dude..its my fault…chill the fuck down…
In the quiet of the night Cal heared the voice of a small child crying out
“Help Me” from the gap in truck the crash had created.
Cal eyes darted to the trunk and back to the stranger.
Immediately Cal’s hand reached around for his blade.
There was a look of sheer terror on the stranger’s face his hand went
straight to clutching his chest.
He was deathly white and choking.
He collapsed eyes wide, scared shitless and died there and then of a massive heart attack.
Cal could hear soft sobbing coming from the trunk.
Engine still running he popped the trunk and found a girl there of no more the six or seven…petrified.
Cal saw opportunity. He picked up the girl and passed her to Jules. He took the body of Dwayne out of his pick up and put him into the saloons trunk. He then dragged the dead stranger into the back of the saloon. He told Jules to follow him and he drove the saloon the last two miles to the coast.
He put the stranger in the driver’s seat and put the car into drive and watched it nonchalantly break through the barrier and over the cliff top.
He jumped back in the pick up and drove Jules and the little girl home.
He waited all next day watching the news ….nothing.
Jules and the girl, who said her name was Sadie, bonded together. Both seeking solace away from their own respective horrors.
Then the news he was waiting for came the next day….
“Renown convicted paedophile and Devil Worshipper, Charles Altman was found dead in his car at the bottom of Newton cliffs this morning. In the trunk of the car were several body parts of an unknown Caucasian male and the body of Sadie Turner the seven year old who he had subsequently abducted late last week”
Cal’s blood froze….
He looked into kitchen ……Jules and Sadie were sat, busy colouring, oblivious.
Neither of them seeming to even acknowledge that Cal was even in the house.
A spine chilling wave of nauseous realisation swept over Cal.
The Police report had said that the child victim Sadie had been found dead at the scene of the RTA yet here she was?
Obviously there had been…. a mistake?
He looked over at Jules and Sadie blissfully colouring unaware of his haunting stare.
Looking closer at Sadie’s blonde hair he notice a stain of dried red blood coming out of her left ear.
A wave of disbelief flooded through him.
Immediately Sadie spun around , picking up on Cal’s wavering emotions and stared directly at him.
It was a stare of obsidian , black eyes, full of spite and hate.
As she stared at him , in a nano second , all the happenings of the past two days came flooding back to Him. The phone call, the pitiful broken Jules, the body. The dismembering and moving of the body, the car crash, the rolling of the car off the cliff and the pretty young girl clutching to Jules.
The girl, the dead girl now here in the house with them.
Cal was compelled to turn and run. As he did so Sadie let out a piercing scream. It reverberated around the house, smashing windows and cracking the TVs screen. It rung in Cal’s ears and he felt dizzy, nauseous and unbalanced. He ran to the door handle and yelped in an agonising recoil. The metal door handle was red hot and his hand burned and blistered. Jules, in all of this, carried on humming and colouring.
He called out to her.
She turned and smiled, holding up the colouring she had been drawing.
It was a picture of two Angels holding hands.. one adult and one child with thick yellow blonde hair..
They were ascending…. on the floor lay a man in a pool of blood with a dozen knives sticking out of his chest… written in the blood …
as you think..so you become…
Panicking now he looked to the window… cracked glass still in the pane.. he would try and dive through the window to escape the malevolence.
He ran, fast at it… he smashed into a force field that recoiled him back. He lay covered in broken glass.
Sadie was now standing over him… her voice booming .. the voice of a gnarled old man..
Fool, did you think you could undo me?
I Charles Altman…
Did you think me not powerful enough to transcend.?
Her face contorted…
By the power vested in me… spirits of the air, evil sprites of the darkness…. I command thee… up now…
Cal looked up , Jules stood over looking him too.
She mouthed a feint.. Bye.
As he went to move the whole house began shaking violently. Ornaments crashed, draws flung open and knives took to the air.
In one swathe volley, six kitchen knives landed hard on his chest..
He looked down incredulous.
He looked up to see Sadie orchestrating the concerto.
Bang, another pinning his right hand. The entry on the burn blister almost making him pass out… the next, a long pointed bread knife straight through the scrotal sack, wetting his groin with warm seeping blood.
As he cried out …..Jules, a meat cleaver , spinning and arcing through the air with a whooping whooshing sound landed parallel in his mouth, sinking in to jaw level…
then the long wooden sweeping brush hovered above him, it dropped like an exorcet missile and pierced his abdomen. His body quivering from the impalement
All around him, fires began breaking out..
The last words for him to hear…
“This, this is just child’s play to what I have planned for you in Hell”
See You in FUCKING HELL
Sadie, took Jules by the hand , back to the table to carry on colouring .
Flames now engulfing the whole house.
News just in …. local handyman Calum Roberts was found burned to death at the house of Juliet Smith. It is believed that there was a domestic dispute between him, the husband and Juliet. The husband is missing, presumed dead, whilst Calum in a fit of peak, murdered his lover , committed suicide and set fire to the house.
A tragic end to a bitter love triangle.
Life is a Yin and life is a Yang