Death Camp Dreaming

This is a bit off topic for my blog but I hope you enjoy it all the same. The next post will be back on track I promise.

Ruby thrashed in cold sweat under a net of tangled sheets. Terrified panic smothered her, gripped her throat, squeezed it hard. She bolted upright and gasped heavily for cool, calming air. Sweet relief washed over her as she turned to check she hadn’t woken Jack. He was not in their bed. She strained to hear people whispering downstairs.

“Oh Rubyyyy” his eerie voice gently beckoned. “Pull on some clothes and come down, darling”.

Her husband’s cheery tone confused her, intrigued her, she slipped into a dress and floated over the stairs to meet him. He was absolutely filthy, like he had been buried alive wearing an old top hat and coat tails. He took her hand, and with a crooked smile and sweeping chivalry, ushered her to their backyard.

As soon as they stepped foot outside glaringly bright daylight stung her eyes and scorched her skin. Dazed, dizzy, she squinted to see a throng of zombies milling around them, shuffling in stoic unison toward a red brick building. Their low, droning voices a swarm of bees circling her head. She hesitated.

“Oh, don’t worry my dear”, he said, excitement pitched his voice high. “We’re going for a wonderful shower”, he threw his arm out with grandeur, encouraging Ruby to soak up the beautiful, warm atmosphere. Her stomach sank as she took it all in. The dust. The perfectly lined rows of barns and houses. The workers. The uniforms. The putrid stench of death.

Their clothes had vanished.

Her heart raced as turned to fight through the brain-dead crowd. Her house was far away behind them, a beacon in the dark shadow of night. She reached out for it, willing it to be closer. The tide held her steady, her husband grabbed her and violently tossed her into the building.

“Just a wonderful shower”. He sneered bringing his face a centimeter from her own. The Cheshire cat grin showed her a mouth half full of disgusting, rotting teeth. She recoiled and spun around, there were no showers! The crowd crammed in. Daylight filtered through holes in the roof. A door slammed shut. Ruby couldn’t move. The droning buzz escalated to shrill, gut-piercing screams, echoing off the concrete walls. The noise rose and rose, drilling in her head, it was sure to explode! She closed her eyes tight and screamed. Everything snapped.

Stopped.

The absolute calm and silence of a gentle, cool breeze stirred the midnight air. Bewildered, she slowly opened her eyes to find herself thigh deep in their swimming pool, her summer dress dancing gracefully in the glassy water. She stiffened at his presence.

“Hello, darling” her husband hissed, his breath on her neck shooting a shiver up her spine. She froze, barely breathing, waiting for him to make his move.

Cobra hands shot to her neck and ripped her clean out of the water. He forced her head under water while she thrashed and fought and tried desperately to plant her feet. She found the floor, and pushed herself up with all her strength but the concrete crumbled beneath her and fell away. Jack floated above the surface, a distorted, grimacing face, laughing at her with his hands firm on her throat. A scream welled in her lungs, she opened her mouth to let it out and everything went black.

Ruby thrashed in cold sweat under tangled sheets. Terrified panic smothered her, gripped her throat, squeezed it hard. She bolted upright and gasped heavily for cool, calming air. She turned to check she hadn’t woken her husband and found herself alone in her single bed. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief and smiled as she hit the snooze button.

Today, she would be a little late for school.

Sweet Jane

Swallow your wishful thinking, kitten! There’s no escape from me.

I whisper sweet lullabies over your shoulder, my beckoning breath clings heavy, doesn’t it?

Feel the anxiety as it crawls inside you, the nausea, the sweat that pricks your skin.

You need me, you see, I’m your Sweet Jane. I just want to make you better, kitten. Don’t you want to be better?

Watch me laugh in your mind, I dance and twist, I’ll haunt you and taunt you and tease you ’til you come to me….

And it’s only a matter of time until you come to me.

xx

for love or money

His head spun his skin grew hot. Misery clawed at his heart and choked his throat, forcing his eyes to well, his stomach to heave. He fell to his knees and scrambled for a rubbish bin to vomit in.

“It’s all gone” he thought through fat sobs.

He had wanted to fall in love again for 10 years, a desperate shell with a rusting heart, clinging to hope so it would not slip away from him. His wife would want him to move on, he knew, and it had been so long since her passing, but how could he even begin? His friends suggested an agency, since speed dating and “just meeting people” were absolutely off the cards. He could never convince any woman to date him without some outside help. So he searched for and found one.

The dating agency set him up with a lady named Lily. He had paid a huge fee for the guarantee of a match, as it was something he could not resist. She had indeed been ideal. Charming. Beautiful. Funny. Youthful….. Perfect. He could not wipe the smile from his face after their very first meeting.

His infatuation with her took hold, the heady feeling of being in love swallowed him, he was desperate to feel it forever. The agency could take care of the wedding plans, it was agreed, for a fee…

But then she disappeared without a trace. Leaving him devastated and sleepless with concern for her safety and his near breaking heart. The agency would head an investigation for him. For a lot more money…

It had gotten away from him so quickly that he now found himself bankrupt. All his money was gone, and so was Lily.

He guessed she had been a figment of his desperation all along.

This is from a news headline. I would like to add that the man in this story was taken for over $3million. A court has ordered the “agency” and woman to return it to him.

a noose to hang

This is a true story….

He hadn’t wanted to go into that shed so late in the cold and cursed his mother for not bringing in firewood before she went out. Where was she anyway?! It was too late for a school night. He cursed her over and over until he opened the shed door and jumped at the sight of her figure in the darkness. He fumbled for the light switch.

She had left herself for them to find in agonizingly plain sight, hanging, frozen in death. Her pale face obscured by her auburn hair, her hands, oddly, in her pockets. There was no mystery in her final moments, and no cushioning the blow for her son when he found her.

For a long while he stood, unable to move or breathe or comprehend what his eyes were telling him was real. Finally he snapped and moved to her to save her, to let her breathe and bring her back. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted, easing the tension in the rope, but there was no great gasp for air. With her chest resting on his head he listened for even the faintest sign of her beating heart. Begged for it.

Nothing.

He fell to the floor with a sickening wail, her feet dangling at his head, tears and spit spilling freely to the cold concrete. He felt himself lose touch as he struggled to breathe. Everything spun in his mind, then went black.

His father told him later he had fainted right there underneath her. An ambulance had taken him, but had left his mother where she hanged.

She had not left a note.

a flasher saves the day

Depression weighed my head down and barely let me drag my feet as I tried to jog. I needed some endorphins. Bad.

Ahead of me a pug wandered aimlessly beside the busy road, dangerously close to oncoming traffic. I shuffled lethargically to it’s rescue and picked it up. It had a collar on but I found no owner in sight. However, a nearby gate was ajar and a car in the driveway so I approached the house to see if the pug had escaped from there.

Within seconds of knocking the door swung open and behind it stood a man wearing nothing but sunglasses, his member swinging like a pendulum from the force of the door opening. I struggled to look anywhere but directly at it. The dog was wriggling excitedly so I held it in my outstretched arms and willed the owner to take it so I wouldn’t have to bend down.

He did take it and, after declining his invitation inside, thanked me profusely as I hurried away from his doorstep. I giggled, then laughed hysterically while I tried to pick my feet up to jog. Once I had calmed down my head was a floating balloon and I ran for 30 minutes with a beaming smile on my face.

On my way back to my house the poor little pug was out on the footpath again. I left him there that time.

we’re all prostitutes

I’m not sure why I agreed to a third date with Mike. He wasn’t attractive but for some reason he had it in his head that he was. Mike also thought he was hilarious, which he was not. He took me to nice places though, the kind I couldn’t have afforded on my measly bar tender wages. And despite having hairy knuckles and a tendency to swear a lot he treated me like a lady.

It hit me half way through dinner that, no matter how good the food was, it came at too high a price when he handed me a small box. My face dropped.

“What is it?” I inquired, trying to force a somewhat excited tone.

He said nothing and waited for me to open it.

Inside was a pair of stunning quarter (or so) carat stud earrings. I sighed a heavy sigh.

“They’re amazing, Mike!” I said and drew him close for a restaurant appropriate thank you kiss. He seemed very pleased with himself.

“I’ve booked a room at the Plaza for us tonight” he whispered to me, trying to look romantic but pulling off a weird sort of half asleep look.

My reaction was not what I had anticipated when I had thought about the prospect of sex with Mike. At the start of the night it was absolutely off the table. But now?

“That sounds amazing” I smiled, and reached for our bottle of champagne.

By the end of our meal I was drunk enough not to care too much about Mike’s annoying personality or beer gut, and we went to the Plaza and had some pretty unremarkable sex. He fell asleep not long after he was finished and having no intention of waking up next to him, I snuck out of the hotel.

We never went on another date and I wear those earrings daily. My flatmate asked me if I felt bad about it and I told her honestly, no. She frowned at me then went upstairs to have sex with her boyfriend because she needed him in a good mood before she told him she’d scratched his car trying to parallel park.

I suspected he would be getting a blow job.

the coma

Silently she sits, never leaving the bed, his tiny, fragile hand resting limp in her own. All she wishes for is a squeeze, a wiggle or a flinch of an eyelid. Machines and tubes keep her little boy breathing. Fat tears freely fall, crashing heavy as her heart to the floor as she stares at him.

Fixates on him.

Looking for something she wills to find but can not see.

Her husband is at her back, resting a palm on her shoulder. The weight is too much and she swipes herself away. His touch is toxic. His presence unbearable.

It was an accident. An accident.

Perhaps if her little boy wakes she could fight to forgive her husband. She wants to believe it, but somehow is certain that day will never, ever come.