Chapter 9

Immediately an expletive escaped his lips ... who the fuck was this guy lying there senseless ? He was expecting a girl ... the same loony he had been shadowing the last 7 days.She had gone in alone and he had not noticed anyone else come in. Its not that beating the shit out of someone for no reason bothered him...he had lost count of the number of times that he had done that in his illustrious career in the underworld. But a more immediate problem presented itself – where was the girl ?

Its not that he was bothered about her welfare – he had been sent to ensure that she did not cause any more trouble than she already had done. This empty mansion was the perfect place to see that the END happened today – this was the best opportunity in the entire week. If only...if only he had not fallen asleep as he watched the door waiting in his car. Maybe that's time this piece of shit entered the mansion.

He still could not believe that he had screwed this up ...he had a reputation to live up to and the boss does not take to this kind of fuck ups kindly.

He lit a cigarette and took a swig from his hip flask to steady his nerves before he called the boss... when he heard a small moan coming from the room beyond. He quickly replaced the hip flask with a gun and headed stealthily towards the door at the other end....

Chapter 8

Jimmy gripped her arm and dragged her into the bathroom, pushing her into the tub he crept out the door softly clicking it shut behind him.

Just then he heard pieces of glasses crunch under heavy boots and the distinctive sound of a gun barrel being drawn back and snapped shut.

“Wtf? I definitely don’t like the sound of that” though Jimmy as his eyes dashed around the room looking for a place to hide. A rust old wrought iron desk stood against the wall under the window against which Jimmy now crouched.

“Scheiße! My gun! It’s in the loo with that moronic woman!” muttered Jimmy under his breath. The sound of crunching boots was getting closer now and there wasn’t anytime.

Jimmy leant back resigning himself to his fate.

The sound of the footsteps had now stopped. Jimmy could hear the man’s labored breathing as he stood in the doorway, and pressed himself closer against the side paneling of the table trying furtively to blend into its flaky exterior.

And then for the second time that day, Jimmy saw Orion’s Belt flash before his eyes.

Chapter 7

They both froze.

The mansion had been lying unused for months now. She had chosen the locale with great care.

She looked down at him. Bloodied and grunting.
Useless!
She spat and bent down to retrieve his Colt.

Jimmy hazed with pain weighed his options.
He yells for help and whoever it is at the door gets the cops to bail him out. He’d be in jail but alive.
Or he tries to reason with her … DONGGGGG! ….. DONGGGGG!

The bell rang twice this time.
Insistent.

It’s definitely the cops she thought.
There were no neighbours around here. No security either. She had been very thorough.

She looked at Jimmy. His eyes were bright. She slowly shook her head in a no. He wouldn’t dare to make a sound. He had a lot at stake too.

Crouched on the floor they saw the silhouette cross a window.
It was a matter of seconds before the broken French window was discovered.

Chapter 6

Her fingers hurt.

A punch like that would have an equally damaging reaction.

She just stood there, staring blankly at Jimmy as he mumbled something about drum beats and scary fairytales and loony plot writers. She was just glad that he hadn't sold off his hat for some magic beans or something.

He still looked human.

He bled.

As he rose his head to see her again, she thrust a photograph right into his face.

"But that's just the camera angle," he whined.

"You made me look fat, idiot!" she snarled.

There was no escaping.

Jimmy squinted like a blind pirate. She had the most confusing body in the world. Jimmy couldn't figure out whether it was sexy or horrifying or both. It was like looking at a rainbow that's shining on a beautiful woman, only she looks like a rotting apple and is dressed like a clown.

"I think I'm in big trouble," Jimmy muttered. And then he laughed. Saying 'big' while still looking at the photograph could've been funny for some. Especially the suicidal.

Surprisingly she took it well. Unless you also consider stabbing him in the shins with a rusty fork taking it well.

He squeaked with pain, but she wouldn't stop.

"Take this as your first photography lesson, asshole!"

The bloody whimpers mixed with cackles of madness echoed through the house.

And then the most predictable thing happened.

The doorbell rang.

Chapter 5

Stars burst before his eyes.

Not just any kind of stars, mind you. It was Orion’s Belt with part of the Horsehead nebula.

When he was seven, his elder brother had knocked him out with unabridged box-set of Carl Sagan’s Cosmos. Ever since then, he had been very particular about his stars.

Now like then, the world slowly turned inky black, sounds gradually pointed to mute and he started floating.

Later, somewhere in the darkness, a heavy drum started pounding a single note.

D#. D#. D#.

Perfect pitch wasn’t something he had been born with. Only years of tutoring at expensive private schools had given him that. Thanks to it, he now knew the exact note of his heartbeat.

D#!?

If left to him he would have wanted his heart to pound out something different. Say, maybe, E#7dim5. Maybe, that would have given him a more mysterious air. Maybe, that would have made him a chick magnet.

He laughed sardonically. Two angry orange strobes burst in his head, knocking him back. The drums grew louder and set up a pulsating jungle rhythm.

‘I got to open my eyes.’

He blinked.

The bright sunlight streaming into the room seemed like a fiscal blow suffered by Merrill Lynch investors. He brought his arms up to shield his eyes from the pain.

He turned and glared at the writer.

‘Y’er crazy!’ he spat, ‘Pulp Fiction meets Monty Python? You can’t mix genres like that, you insufferable twit!’ This unwanted aggravation caused his accent to oscillate wildly between Cowboy American to 18th century British, finally settling in comfortably somewhere mid-Atlantic.

But mixing and matching had been going on for centuries. Bungalow, rendezvous and zeitgeist nodded their collective heads in agreement.

More ominously for him, there, nestled by the writer’s bedside table were three books, Pulp Fiction, a Spike Milligan novel and a book of Grimm’s fairy tales.

After a while, his eyes got used to the light and he looked around.

Outside, it was a brilliant spring morning.

But inside were three beds. One large bed, one middle-sized bed and one tiny baby bed.

‘Goldilocks!’ he screamed.

The dame had him running around in circles.

Chapter 4

No response, he waited for a minute and then knocked again. This was the last straw! Did they expect him to stand here forever and freeze to death. So far, he had observed all their weird rules. “For your own good, Jimmy” they told him. The pay was good, the work was harmless. A little snooping never did anyone harm. Not that he was making much money by writing movie scripts – a profession which was a hit with the girls yes but yet to be sent to any producer and consequently yet to make money. And, of course there was the little matter of drug possession that “they” took care of.

“I am done waiting, its time to break some of these moronic rules”, Jimmy said aloud. He was not feeling particularly heroic... he just needed to pee. He took his Colt out and circled the mansion. As years of snooping had taught him – there is always a weak link. There was still one french window which was not barred. “Idiots, they really deserve this”, thought Jimmy as he smashed a pane with the Colt and forced his way in.

It was not too dark as first light was streaming in... and he could make out the outline of two doors on either side. He chose the smaller one and hallelujah! It was the place he was looking for. He rested the Colt on the flush tank and relieved himself. As he was zipping up he felt a tap on his shoulder... he picked up the Colt and turned in one motion, only to feel a fist with two large rings smash right into his face.

Chapter 3

"God! This movie is moronic! Fucked up woman in a fucked up relationship!" thought Jimmy as he spat again onto his Colt .45 and then rubbed it for the zillionth time.

The stupid fucking phone. Now he was wide up and he was awake. And the idiot box disappointed him, yet again.


Instead of switching channels he decided to switch off the TV, limped over to the cabinet and poured himself a stiff whiskey. As he took a long slow sip, he thought about his day ahead. It was going to be a rough one.


Jimmy glanced at his watch. It was 6 am. It was time.

The silence in the room was deafening.


Tucking his colt into his belt after one more loving polish, he flung on a jacket and walked towards the door, giving the room one swift scan before clicking it shut.


Taking the stairs down from his fourth floor apartment, two at a time, Jimmy make a quick mental visual map of his job at hand. Quickening his pace, once out on the street, he hunched his shoulders as if to protect his ears from the blistering cold.


"Fucking fucked up winters. I hate the fucking cold." Jimmy muttered to himself as he stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets.


Fifteen minutes later he was there.


Climbing the front few steps of the rambling mansion, he took a deep breath and gripped the brass knocker.


He waited a second longer and then he knocked.

Chapter 2

R.E.M interrupted at four fucking a.m. by a muffled Kill-Bill whistle. He reached for his cell phone under the pillow. Even in his hash-hazed senses he knew it was her.

“Who the fuck?” he barked.

The scowl deepened when the caller didn’t speak up. He hung up & switched off the phone.

There is something warm & womblike about deep sleep after smoking up. He felt like one of those embryos from Matrix, floating in thick comforting molasses. And now he had been yanked out brutally.

Irked and sleepless, he lit up a cigarette. His mind wandered to their solo encounter. His lean angular frame appeared fidgety next to her poised suppleness. Her grave sobriety had been calming to his buzzing restless existence.

He looked at the switched off cell phone and dragged deep on the cigarette. He had changed his number when he moved from the city. But she seemed to creep stealthily in his life every once in a while. What did she want? What was there to say or do? 

*Posted for nasha.

Chapter 1

She sat there, on the red bean bag with a pair of scissors in her hand.

She had nothing to cut though.

There were times when she felt that she'd lost her trail of thought, but that wasn't happening today. Her mind was fixed on something she had no control over.

Maybe she needed to be someone else. A facade really; so that she could surprise herself with her thoughts for a change. How can one be so consciously comfortable with the thoughts in one's head?

She aimlessly picked up and cut ambiguous pieces of paper. She was exhausted.

After all, the more the mind wanders, the more it tires.

She threw the scissors and walked into the dark of the night. She walked through the deep blacks, along the streets of bizarre memories. Some blurred, some fading, one stark yellow.

She knew she wouldn't be able to dodge it out of her mind. She knew she was on to something, just wasn't sure what it was yet.

Everything that could go wrong, did. There was little anyone could do to salvage the turn of events. But she just couldn't get her mind off it. And she wasn't even thinking of a way out, a solution, a conclusion. She was just thinking.

The thing is that she was equally confused by his using the word 'career'. Only a few days ago she saw him running around in the park with his arms spread out yelling, "I'm an airplane!"

Only she knew what he really was. And that was one thing she could no longer keep a secret.

She finally fought her own thoughts and dialled the number.

It rang.