You - The cure

Sorry for not doing much lately and having a really late post. However I wanted to do this one as well as possible because it is the start of an idea for a much larger story. The challenge was to write  only in the present tense, not quite sure if it worked out well with my 2nd person point of view but I decided to try it. Anyways please enjoy.

This is a story of you. You wake up one morning and the voices start again. Each one does it’s own thing: one berates you, another narrates your life, and one is your dearest friend.  They never leave your side, always watching. You ponder their existence for a brief moment; they slowly came to life one by one. At first the narrator as if in a book, next the insulting one critiquing everything you do and lastly your only friend. You must take the good with the bad. You tolerate the narration; it has its moments. All of it is like having a posse of disembodied voices.

By this time you are down stairs making your morning coffee, black with a speck of chitchat. You haven’t heard from Olivia, your friend, for some time. She is interested in your newest escapades. Which usually means the same old same old; working long hours for a major bank during the week and struggling to fixing up old houses on the weekend. No time for much of anything else and it is getting tiring. It is hard enough to hide your schizophrenic tendencies to the world but essentially working two jobs. Especially one that is more of a hobby than an actual job but with the amount of sweat and tears I put into it might as well be.

This house will be your last. It is time to move on, maybe a new state with a new town, and one with a little more beauty than here. Someplace with green grass and trees with flowering blooms. Scenery is everything when selling, that and being newly renovated to look marvelous. Each house you make is a masterpiece, unique in every way down to the last detail. Your favorite part is the garden secret. It is the cure to your schizophrenia.

First you find an interesting house that could use a facelift. Pretty easy when there are plenty of foreclosed homes because of the recession. You never do the same neighborhood and you use an alias to cover your tracks. You have plenty of money due to your other escapades in less scrupulous manners. Second you draft some plans for the house: new paint, carpet, flooring, and appliances. Third is to hire help, no problem there, you know Spanish and not like they will talk to anyone about strange happenings. Just in case you never hire the same people twice for one house. You practically destroy the house during the week making way for everything that is to come. Friday everything has to be ready, you need the house empty. That night you go out, and find yourself someone lonely and in need of some company. Male, female it doesn’t really matter to you, they never make it to the absent bed. Chloroform makes it easy to restrain them and drag them to the bathroom and then the real fun begins.

The cure to the voices is to spill Innocent Blood. It gets rid of the good and the bad alike, an antidote of sorts for your mental ailment. The treatment only lasts for a while but it is all you need to survive. Lastly you clean up the bathroom and dig a large hole in the backyard and dump the body. Saturday the hired help plants flowers and finishes the bathroom. They do all the grunt work for you. With that you get off free as a bird and are off to the land of the sun, and beaches, California.

Love Doctor pt.2 the murder

Apologies for the late continuation post. It was hard figuring out where I wanted to go with it. Anyways this is a continuation on one of my more disturbing stories and it only gets worse. Take that as a warning. This is the first part of what will be another novel in what I hope to be a series about Dr.  Royal which I posted Friday. The first part is here: http://nakedlysane.blogspot.com/2014/05/love-doctor.html and please enjoy. 

8:15 a.m. Tuesday, June 24^th

Shelly walks into a cold dark doctors office. The cold is normal, the dark not so much. Dr. Underwood usually was here by now to open up, the door was unlocked so he had to be there. Shelly flipped the switch; the pale light blinded her for a moment. The disgustingly old green couch came into focus along with the shitty coffee table that had year old magazine subscriptions on top. Shelly walked past the depressing waiting room and through the door to the depressing clinic halls. No sign of Underwood.

“Maybe he is in his office,” Shelly says to herself. It was eerily quiet as Shelly opened the door. The ambient light from the computer screensaver only made vague shapes visible. A figure sat in the chair in the desk. “Dr. Underwood, why are you sitting here in dar…” Shelly asked flipping on the lights. Her breath caught short as the light filled the room. She couldn’t believe what was before her. Her former employer was slumped in his office chair. He was naked except for the dried blood covering most of his body and was restrained with rope. Shelly screamed.

8:30 a.m. I was called to the scene.

            “Hey Dr. Royal, long time no see,” Snickered Detective Fields. “How is the lovely Ms. Knight doing?”

            “Working to put criminals behind bars, like you should be.” I retorted.

It shut him up for a bit while he showed be to the office where Dr. Underwood was found. I knew already that Underwood was a Gynecologist, a bad one at that. Most doctors in this area talk to each other and rumors spread fast. However since he is in one of the poorer parts of town he gets away with a little more than he should. Even then he doesn’t deserve this. Walking in the first thing I notice in large red letters scrawled across the back wall was “SEXUAL DEVIANT.” Obviously someone was acting on a misplaced sense of justice. Ridding the world of undesirables. Next my eyes were drawn to the now dead Underwood. He was a bloody mess, cuts up and down his torso, some concentrated on his nipples. It seems he died from blood loss from a slit throat, but that isn’t the worst of it his family jewels had been cut off and thrown on to the floor. It was some piece of work and not something I had planned to see so early in the morning.

“So Doc,” Fields spoke up. “What do you think for your first real case for the Newport Police?”

I swallowed whatever saliva remained in my open mouth. “Someone definitely wanted Dr. Underwood dead,” the words finally coming from my mouth, “and made sure he suffered well before that happened. This was definitely planed and I doubt you will find finger prints anywhere of use.”

“Why do you say that?” asked the inspector.

“Well this is a doctors office how hard is it to go over to the wall and pull out some damn gloves.” I say as I begin to pull some out for myself. Although I didn’t really want to inspect the foul body any closer I needed clues. So I get behind the dead man, no trauma to the head. I look in the trash and find gauze, taking a slight whiff that confirms it as chloroform. That answers how he was stripped and restrained without much of a fight. Next point of business was to see what was last on the computer. Pressing the space key the screen comes to life instantly, displaying a video of the doctor giving his patient an exam. This was already very damning evidence but it didn’t end there with out warning muffed screams of a female orgasm erupted from the speakers. Everyone else turned away embarrassed.

“Well it looks like our dead friend here was a very perverted man indeed.” I say stopping the video just Underwood finishes and turns around smiles at the camera. 

What really happened

This is a late exercise that is a changed point of view of last tuesday's submission by me: More than a home. It should have parallels but it gives what really happened front he perspective of Zach. I hope you like it.

I loved her more than I ever imagined. I did anything and everything for Vanessa. She was the light of my world and the only thing keeping me from descending back to that horrible place. I had lost everyone that ever cared about me. My dad was in jail for killing my mother. My sister disappeared shortly after with out a word. I was alone and scared. Alcohol helped me cope with the horrors. I kept up appearances where I could. It was either hiding from depression or hiding the sweet poison. No one knew, no one asked, no one cared but she did.

We met by chance. We were both late to the bus one day that it was raining. I had stupidly forgot anything to keep me from getting soaked. She was nice enough to share her umbrella with a wet mutt like me. I could see a shining kindness in her eyes, much like my mothers. So I chatted with her, told her how nice and good looking she was.  It was simple and easy talking to her and when I finally got her name I was smitten. Vanessa, unique and special just like her. She seemed interested in me. So why not try again.

I cleaned myself up. Shaved, hair cut, new clothes the works. I had to have her. It took me weeks to work up the courage to ask her out on a date, when she said yes I was ecstatic. We went to a nice Italian restaurant in town, I did anything and everything to woo her. It all paid off when she asked me to join her in her yearly garden party where she cooks a feast for her friends and family. I knew then and there we had something and that I loved her more than anything in the world at that point.

Soon after that we were going steady, going out, having fun at my place, movies, anything and everything. We were so happy, nothing could bring me down. We generally stayed at my place because her house gave me the creeps. Like someone or something was always watching. Vanessa told me that it was silly and that there was no one else in the house. It didn’t comfort me so I always convinced her to come over to my place instead.  It worked for some time but she always wanted her home, something my place couldn’t give her. She said it was perfect for her, always was since her mother bought it when she was little.

We began to fight, innocently enough until it grew too large to handle. Little things here and there would be a big deal like, how my place was always cold, or her leaving stuff on. It was childish to say the least. I turned to alcohol again to relax and to let the little things go. Of course it didn’t work, every fight turned into a reminder of my mother and father. How he beat her and I for her being strong. I became angry that I couldn’t control anything anymore. So I took matters into my own hands the only way I knew how. But it made things worse, she was gone and I was alone again.

Everything was a blur from then on, back to drinking anything to stop the pain. Whenever I checked in on myself I was stalking Vanessa; at home, on the bus, at work. I confronted her several times but each ended the same, her pushing me away. I finally found myself  in a gutter  with an empty bottle of the strongest liquor I could find. Breaking it on the dirty trashcan I left and went back to whatever is left of a home. Sobering up I tried for one Last Chance, trying to plead for my innocence.  I write this as an account of what happened, I hope it finds you well.

Immortal

“Hello and welcome to world nightly news, I am your host Chris Barker.“ The same old shit he always did. “Today we have a special interest story, the woman who was immune to the cure for aging. Here is Rebecca Nielson.”

“Thanks for having me Chris.” It was a lie of course. I’m not immune. I just didn’t want it, but it surprised me I was alone in this decision.

“How does it feel knowing you will die?” he brazenly said to me, like it was something he was so unfamiliar with anymore. It is the same thing everywhere I go now.

“Chris the looming shadow of death is a very human thing to have. You think just because you never age and won’t die because of it, means you can’t die?” I said calmly making the truth known, the cure only made you stop aging.  “Everyone here in the audience can still die. It sounds horrible to say this, it makes me sound so depressing, but the reality is you can still be hurt.” I say and reach over and pinch him.

“Ow! Why did you do that?” he says retracting from me scared like I am some inhuman monster, unlike anything he has ever seen. They are scared of me, scared of the truth.

“To prove a point, pain is still a very real thing. Bullets, knives, anything can still hurt you and kill you. Murder and suicide are the only answers to wanting to leave this world. “ The words fell from my mouth but they only were received by deaf ears. “What happens when you get tired of living? A 100 years from now you will be alive and I will be dead, yes but what will you do with the eons you have left?” I ask the hard questions that they don’t think about. I stared at the camera recording every word flowing from my mouth.

“What do you mean by that?” he says, like he didn’t even put a second of thought into it. No one considered the repercussions of  such a decision.

“There are consequences for everything, they are not always evident from the start but they are there. What happens when you get tired of your life? What happens when you get tired of your wife?” I ask the questions they didn’t.  “Everything will become mundane.  You will search and search for new experiences until there isn’t anymore. Soon enough we are going to have to figure out a way to start life over again with out the Cycle of Life and death. We are going to need to erase your memories if you don’t want take your own life. Don’t worry about me, I will continue being human and will live a full happy life and die naturally at peace. Worry about yourselves.” For a moment I thought It was sinking in for everyone, there was horror crossing their faces.

            Chris laughed to dissipate the tension. “You are pretty young so you still have a long life ahead of you, maybe medicine will figure out a way to fix your immunity to the aging cure. Do you think you will take it then?” he asked imploringly hoping for the answer to put him and everyone else at ease.

            The answer wasn’t going to do that. “No, I am happy the way I am. The human condition will live on through me until I die, you will become something else. I am the only human who can reproduce technically so maybe we will see a diverging of species. One where evolution still acts and another where they are static living forever.” I could see the producer behind  the camera make the slitting the through movement to get me to stop.

            “Well thank you Rebecca for that, and glad to have you on the show. With that we will be back right after this commercial break.”