Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

Monday, January 28, 2013

#MondayMixer The Caged Bird Does Not Sing

This is written for #MondayMixer. The words this week are as follows:
 
 
Locations: 1) oubliette 2) cabaret 3) amphitheater
Things: 1) lanyard 2) drachma 3) shrike
Adjectives: 1) phlegmatic 2) commensurate 3) discordant

 
I have used all 9, an attempt to get the overachiever award and show my husband up. Yes... we have that kind of relationship. But he loves me anyway. (And I him.) 
 
The Caged Bird Does Not Sing
By Lisa McCourt Hollar
 
Clark held his badge over the sensor, his usual phlegmatic demeanor replaced by an impatience that threatened to break the door, if it didn’t open. Hearing the beep, he dropped his lanyard against his chest and stepped onto the elevator. He always felt as though he were descending into an oubliette.
The elevator music, something from a cabaret, served to worsen his mood. The discordant tones were more grating than a flock of shrike, all chirping at once. When the doors opened he rushed out and into the amphitheater that was his work area.
She was in the corner, his Drachma, his love. Somehow she’d broken her restraints.  Her ears were covered to drown out the shrieking of the alarms and she stared at him with hatred. Clark reached for his whip. Her beauty was commensurate with that of a Queen, why wouldn’t she let him worship her as such?

Word Count: 150

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Ageless


Ageless
by Lisa McCourt Hollar

Jenny hesitated outside the posh spa. There had to be some mistake. People of her status did not belong in a place as luxurious as this. She could feel the eyes of the other patrons on her. Good Lord, was that Vanessa Hamilton going in? The well- known actress looked more beautiful in real life than she did on the silver screen. Even the recent tabloid photos of her frolicking on the beach with Jacob Taylor didn’t do her justice. Looking once more at the invitation in her hand, Jenny decided that there had to be an error. Offers for full memberships to the most exclusive resort were not sent to waitresses; they were given to the rich and famous. She would just be laughed at when she entered the upscale building and she would deserve it for being naïve enough to think that this invitation was real. Dropping the postcard sized paper into the nearest trash receptacle, Jenny turned, anxious to get back to her beat up car. She had parked it down the road, rather than to put the rusted Chevy into the parking lot next to the more expensive vehicles.
“Miss, I think you dropped this.”
Jenny turned, nearly collapsing on the ground when she saw who it was that had grabbed her arm. Jenny’s hands trembled, reaching for the invitation Vanessa Hamilton had retrieved, but her legs, despite being shaky, held her up.
“Certainly you’re not going to throw away a gift like this?”
“It’s a mistake. I don’t belong in there.”
Vanessa laughed. “Oh no, don’t tell me you aren’t about to do the I’m not worthy bit.”
Jenny just shrugged her shoulders, feeling awkward.
“I pay an exorbitant amount of money to come here. On top of that I pay another fee to help gift memberships to women that cannot afford to join a place like this. It is no mistake. Please don’t offend me by refusing to at least take a look around.
“Well, when put that way…”
“I know it can seem daunting. I wasn’t always famous. Come on, I’ll show you around, myself.”
Vanessa turned and headed towards the building, expecting for Jenny to follow.
***
Jenny’s head was swimming. She’d had a massage that nearly gave her an orgasm, it was that good, she’d been in the sauna, had a facial and now she was getting ready for a Renaissance bath, whatever the hell that was. Vanessa had spent the entire day with her, telling her about her next film and filling her in on all the Hollywood dirt.
“Jacob is hung like a horse,” she whispered to Jenny when they lay next to each other on the massage tables, “but he’s as clueless as a new-born pup with what to do with it.”
Jenny blushed, not knowing what to say about that. Vanessa picked up on the change in color, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”
“Well…”
“Good choice. Men are scum, even Jacob. He’s cheating on me. He doesn’t know I know, but I do. I’ll let him play awhile before dumping him, probably after the movie premier. It will be a magnificent scandal.”
Now Jenny stood inside the changing room alone, left with Olga, the woman that was going to help her get ready for the bath.
“I can undress myself,” Jenny said, the warm glow she’d been feeling moments before beginning to wear off.
“Miss Hamilton has requested that I help you. She says you are very special.”
“I’m not that special,” Jenny said, reluctantly allowing the woman to help her slip out of her robe.
“Lay down on this table.”
“What for?”
“I have to rub oil on your body.”
“Shouldn’t that be put on after the bath?”
“No. Before.”
“Well, if you say so.” Jenny lay down on the table. Her stomach did flip flops as the woman’s rough hands scrubbed the oil onto her. It felt like she was trying to rub the skin right off. “If this is supposed to feel relaxing, it’s an epic fail,” Jenny laughed. The woman didn’t answer, just kept rubbing more and more oil onto Jenny’s back.
“Roll over so I can do front.”
“Oh…that’s okay.” Jenny pushed herself up, ready to end this assault on her body.  Olga’s rough hands pushed her back down.
“Roll over.”
“Vanessa didn’t have to get rubbed down like this before going into the bath!” Jenny tried to make her voice sound as indignant as she could, pushing a bit of anger into it.
Olga laughed. “That is because Miss Hamilton will be taking the bath, you will be giving it. She is waiting and I am growing impatient.”
“What do you mean by that? I am a guest of this spa, not an employee. When I tell Miss Hamilton of your rudeness, she will have your job.”
Olga laughed, pushing an elbow into the girl’s back and forcing her to stay on the table. Jenny struggled, but it was no use. She heard a door open and strong hands grabbed her feet. Jenny tried to kick loose, but despite the effort, she felt her ankles being bound together by heavy rope. Then her arms were pulled behind her back and tied as well.
“Flip her over.”
Jenny screamed as someone lifted her in the air and dropped her back down, onto her back. A sharp pain shot through her arm and she felt the bones in one of her wrists snap. Olga ignored the pained yelp, rubbing the oil onto the girl’s stomach and breasts.
“She looks sexy.” A man stood over Jenny, leering. Reaching for her, he squeezed one of her nipples, twisting it and causing her to gasp in pain.
“HEEEEEELP!” Jenny screamed, trying to kick at him with her bound feet.
Olga slapped the man. “Hands off.”
“Why can’t I touch? I’m not fucking her.”
“But you’ll want to.” Olga looked down at the man’s pants and grinned. “There, see…you already are thinking about it.”
“Maybe I fuck you then,” the man said, playfully swiping at the woman. Olga just swatted him away and continued with her ministrations.  
“Okay, I am done. You can take her in now.”
Jenny was lifted into the air and thrown over the creeps back. He carried her into another room. There were no lights, but candles were lit, giving the area an eerie look. Vanessa sat in a chair next to an in-ground tub.
“Vanessa, help.” Jenny pleaded, as she was lifted onto a hook over the tub.
Standing, Vanessa sauntered over to Jenny, who now hung upside down over the tub. “Do you know how old I am?”
“No.” Jenny’s voice shook. She had heard rumors that Vanessa wasn’t as young as she appeared, but she couldn’t be that old.
“I am 120 years old.”
“That’s not….”
“Possible? But it is. And you are going to help me stay young.”
Vanessa dropped her robe, revealing her flawless skin. Then she lifted her hand, showing Jenny what she held in it; a knife. Even in the darkened room the weapon looked sharp, candlelight glinting off of the steel blade.
It’s been in my family for years. One of my ancestors used it and it has been passed down from generation to generation. Of course not many in my family understood the true value of the knife. My sister actually wanted to donate it to a museum. I stopped her and took the knife for myself.”
Vanessa looked at the knife thoughtfully. “In case you are wondering, my ancestor was Elizabeth Bathory. You recognize the name? I knew Rebecca was a virgin of course, but I had always thought the legend about Elizabeth was just that, legend.”
The actress smiled, even blushed a little at her simplicity. “When I killed my sister with this knife, some of her blood fell on my skin. I’d been in an accident and there was a scar on my right arm. It ran from here to here.” Vanessa indicted the length of her forearm. “The scar began to fade before my eyes. I couldn’t believe it. At first I was stunned, but then, as it sunk in what had happened, the truth of my ancestor’s life was revealed to me; along with the horror. I had the ability to live forever, but to do so I would have to kill. I wasn’t sure if I could do it.
Jenny listened to the story, thinking the actress had to be insane. “Vanessa, please…”
“Please what? Spare your life? I can’t do that. Virgins are rare these days. When I first met you, I had hoped maybe you weren’t one. There’s something about you that draws me to you. I would like to spend some time with you, get to know you a bit better…maybe even show you a few things in the way of love. Yes, I am attracted to you, the rumors about me and women are true, which is why I allow Jacob his dalliances.  But you see here…” Vanessa pointed to a tiny blemish on her arm. “It’s the scar. If I don’t bathe regularly, it comes back. Right now it’s barely noticeable. In a few weeks I’ll have to wear long sleeves. I’m sorry Jenny, but this is how it has to be.” Then lifting the knife in the air, Vanessa struck quickly, slicing into Jenny’s throat so that her blood showered down on the ageless star.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Eternity


Eternity
by Lisa McCourt Hollar


The door opened inward. Murdock eased it open silently and looked inside. The woman was sitting on the couch reading a book and oblivious to the danger she was in. Somewhere on the other side of the living room a man was talking, but Murdock couldn't see him from his vantage point. The television, maybe?

Stepping into the kitchen, Murdock smiled at how easy it had been to gain access. As with his previous visit, while the old couple had been away, the door was unlocked. Stepping forward, he chuckled. This was going to be fun. Halfway through the room, he froze. He had forgotten about the loose floorboard that creaked loudly when stepped on. He glanced into the living room at the woman, wondering if she had noticed. She didn't even look up from her book, one of those steamy romances that had a picture of a half naked man on the cover. Breathing a sigh of relief, Murdock eased his foot off the board and towards the living room. Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out a knife and chuckled silently.

"Did you hear me Ethel?"

"Hmmm?" Ethel didn't even glance up from her book.

"I said, it sure is quiet out tonight."

Ethel did look up now. Sighing, so her husband would know how annoyed she was at his interruption she said, "And I was enjoying the silence, until you interrupted it. Why don't you watch the tube?"

"Nothing good on," Bob said.

"Nothing good on," Ethel said, her voice mocking that of her husband's. "Are you going to tell me that with over 300 channels, you can't find anything to watch?"

"Nothing good." Bob looked out the window, wishing that young thing across the way was home. She was always good for a little entertainment. The last time she had flashed him a look at her titties before closing the curtain. He knew she'd done it on purpose too, winking at him before taking the eye candy away.

"Are you trying to get a peek at that girl again? You old fool, she's going to call the police one of these days, then everyone will know what an old pervert you are."

"I'm a pervert? And just what is that smut you are reading, Miss High and Mighty?"

"Not smut," Ethel said, her voice stiff and frosty, "Literature."

Murdock groaned, listening to the couple bicker. This was why he never married. Love always turned to hate. He'd seen it with his own parents. The two of them had fought so much when he was a boy, that when his father had stabbed his mother, he'd been relieved that the fighting was over. Tonight would be more than fun. He'd be doing the couple a favor, removing them from their misery.

He was almost to the living room now. The old woman had her back turned to him as she picked at her husband, her words cutting through the air like a knife. Murdock gripped his own knife and smiled, imagining cutting out her tongue. A breeze blew across his back and he realized he hadn't shut the door behind him. Ethel felt the breeze too and turned towards the kitchen, her eyes opening wide. Knocking her book to the floor, she opened her mouth to speak while struggling to get up from the couch. Murdock felt his heart racing. The game was about to begin.

"Ethel, what's the matter?" Bob couldn't see what his wife was looking at, but something in the kitchen had caught her attention. A breeze blew into the living room and Bob pulled his sweater closed in front.

Murdock stepped into the living room, just as the old biddy stood. He saw her eyes wince in pain and wondered if her knees were giving her problems. Well, not for long if they were. Raising his knife in the air, he ran at her, bringing the blade down towards her heart.

"Ethel, what is it," Bob repeated.

"The backdoor," Edith said, shivering. Her mother used to tell her a chill like that meant someone had walked across your grave. "It blew open again. When are you going to fix it?"

"I told you, I've looked at it and there's nothing wrong with the door."

"If there's nothing wrong with the door," Ethel griped, "then why does it keep blowing open?" Angrily, she stalked across the floor, passing Murdock, who was looking at his knife, confused. Slamming the door shut, Ethel returned to the couch, passing straight through Murdock, who had stepped in front of her. He slashed his knife down again and watched unbelieving as it passed straight through the woman. Bending, Edith picked up her book from the floor, wincing at the pain in her knees. She'd lost her damn place.

"I don't know," Bob said, "but there's nothing wrong with the door."

"I suppose we have ghosts then," Edith snorted.

"Unless you have a better suggestion," Bob said, smiling inwardly when he saw Ethel's eye begin to twitch.

"You old coot," Ethel said, then having found her place in the book, she returned to her fantasy. One that didn't include feeble minded husband's.

Sighing, Murdock sat on the other end of the couch. How many nights had he relived this nightmare? Bob turned on the television. Jay Leno was on, saying something about sex and politics. Bob turned the volume up and Ethel snapped at him to turn it down. "What did you say? I can't hear you." Then Bob turned it up louder.

Murdock shoved his knife back into his pocket, resigned to a night of bickering. He would have paid more attention to the preacher his mother had dragged him to, if he'd known that hell for him would be an eternity with Bob and Ethel.

copyright 2011 Lisa McCourt Hollar.  All rights reserved.