The Make Your Own Entertainment Thread

[somethingelseishere]

“With liberty and justice for all - fucking hilarious! They sit on their thrones in black robes, 
high & mighty, doling out inequality by way of tilted laws upheld by stunted oaths and expect 
We the People to fall on our faces in reverence.

To fear them, obey them, worship them. No. The law’s been for sale from the beginning - 
The Golden Rule - he who has the gold can say fuck the rules.

One more card up my sleeve.” 


“STOP! Get on the ground!”

Mariel had no intention of going quietly. She bolted from behind the dumpster - the chase was on - 
an officer bearing down in pursuit.

She rounded the corner of the alley onto an unlit side street - shots fired. Two bullets in her 
direction, both finding flesh. One in her right shoulder - the other in her upper left thigh. 
She was down.

“I got him! Off the alley on Mulberry.” the officer shouted into his walkie.

On the approach, weapon drawn and pointed, he saw the perp - lying still and quiet in the 
middle of that empty street. To his surprize - it was a female, twenty-four year-old Mariel. 
Her breath was rapid, bleeding at a good clip.

Two other officers arrive at the scene, guns in hand. They all three stand over Mariel, gazing 
down on this small, frightened creature.

“I’m gonna radio for an ambulance, just relax and breathe.” says the first officer.

The second officer pulls him aside. The three of them have a word several feet away.

“She’s cute. Why don’t you hold off on that call. She’s not in too bad a shape. Maybe we can 
have some fun first?” he offers, breaking into a sickly grin.

They all agree, then return to the suspect.

“Get her in the backseat.” the third officer says.

Mariel slowly raises her hands.

“Wait, wait.” she says in a raspy whisper.

Her left hand moves towards her chest.

“Put your hands down.” the first officer demands.

“No, please. Please.” she appeals, tears present.

Her hand slides into her jacket, there’s a gentle tug before slowly returning into view - clasped shut.

“Ma’am, what’s in your hand?” the officer asks, pointing his weapon once more.

She coughs, then raises her arm - revealing her treasure. It was a cotton string - with five 
grenade pins attached. Her devilish smile iced the cake.

“Grenade!!” yelled the officer.

Mariel and the three pigs left this world only seconds before the charges went off in the 
court house. The blast shook the ground for blocks. The smell of burning plastic dominated 
the air - black clouds of smoke billowing violently. Her work was done.

It was the largest explosion in Waterloo’s history.

https://imgur.com/2lSfj6D

"Perversion on the Land" - Final in the four-part series 'Embers'.
Mixed media on plywood. My 130th painting.

[Mister Obvious]

One of my favorite things to do is to write fiction to a soundtrack.

I like to think SEIH does this too, and this is what came to my mind.

Does it fit? For me, it does. Cuz I'm warped.

[Mister Obvious]

I know SEIH isn't penning his works to Abba... but I still like the idea.

[somethingelseishere]

Hahahaha, if Embers was a movie - that song would have to play as the credits rolled!!
Strangely though, I can't write with ANY kind of noise or sounds going on. Not even
my favorite instrumental music. I'm not sure why, it just distracts me and prevents me
from full immersion. I hope that changes soon.

I do however get inspired with story ideas while listening to music! I love that!
Story ideas come to me at different times, in different places - in the shower, on the
exercise bike, out mowing the lawn! Some of the best times are just before falling asleep
and right after waking up.

[Mister Obvious]

Strangely though, I can't write with ANY kind of noise or sounds going on. Not even my favorite instrumental music. I'm not sure why, it just distracts me and prevents me from full immersion.

You know what... I honestly kind of love that.

I see it in my mind's eye like a window into the life of a renown writer from the 1800s, living back in his own day... all quiet in the study, with candles burning while he dreams up his worlds.

The creative process is so different for everyone, it's what makes humanity so special.

Story ideas come to me at different times, in different places - in the shower . . .

The shower/bath ideas are usually the best...

I think it has to do with the negative ions, sort of cleansing our energy and charging us up with the new goodies that were waiting in queue.

[somethingelseishere]

And also, water is a super-conductor. Not only for this world, but supposedly into others.

[Mister Obvious]

I hadn't thought of that angle...



It makes sense.

"Water is what keeps us here. Water is the answer."
https://www.sectual.com/thread-1178.html

The topic of water has long fascinated me.

It seems to be the essence of life itself, very mysterious.

[Mister Obvious]

I've said that we are shrooms that grew a skeletal exterior and started walking around...

"I think we are evolved forms of fungi and insects."
https://www.sectual.com/thread-3021.html

But the layer below that is water.

[Mister Obvious]

If water is conscious(ness) then wherever it ends up is no coincidence.

I must ponder this at length.

[somethingelseishere]

Imanpa, Northern Territory, Australia - March 2029

Empires die. Civilizations fall. Cultures fade and disappear. Mankind’s desire for the 
unattainable has always brought about its untimely end. Social and moral decay. 
Greed, depravity. Wealth, power and the waxing cold of hearts.

An agreement was made - globally - to change Humanity’s direction. One that favored 
those occupying the top tiers of society. They evacuated in secrecy, leaving the masses 
to fight against near impossible odds for survival. A truly hostile planet. Death’s new playground.


This was always coming.


Chimera

Killing Fields
A Scourge of Blasphemy
There is No God Here
The Haunted Lands


A new four-part painting series. October 2023.

[Mister Obvious]

Greed, depravity. Wealth, power and the waxing cold of hearts.

Ooo, I felt that. I'm excited about this, it's already hella creepy...

[somethingelseishere]

HALFWAY BETWEEN ALICE SPRINGS & GHAN

The small white van screeches to a dead stop, slams into reverse and shoots back 
about twenty yards - then stops again.

“I’ll get it.” offers Alex, Rod’s fourteen year-old son.
“NO, I will! You keep watch.” Rod counters.

Alex grabs the .50 cal rifle and climbs from the back seat. Rod leaps from the still-running 
van and speeds to the rear, throwing the back doors wide open. Alex stands guard, scanning 
the barren red surroundings.

Rod claims the newly found roadside item, quickly crams it into the van and jumps back inside. 
They race away as though it were a crime scene.

“Thank you daddy!” Milly says beaming.
“No more stops.” Rod replies bluntly.

The tiny, blonde six-year old fumbles in her dirty, tattered pink purse in search of his reward. Found it!

“You get a gold star.” she says sweetly, placing it onto his left wrist.
“Thank you.”

They barrel past a sign that reads GHAN 107 km.

“What’s going on?” asks Beth, Rod’s wife, rousing from some road-trip shut-eye.
“Puttin’ miles behind us.”

There was an unexpected calm in the vehicle. An acceptance of sorts - not only of the 
situation at hand, but of the many potentially unfavorable outcomes.

Beth returns to her nap. Milly carries on singing a jingle from her favorite cartoon. Alex stares 
vacantly out the window. On the face of it, you’d never know they were running for their lives. 
Then it happened - one of those unfavorable outcomes.

The van starts knocking - the old spit & sputter - a few more knocks and it dies.

“Fuckin’ Christ!” Rod yells, pounding both fists on the dash.

Beth sits up in the passenger seat.

“What’s wrong, why are we stopped?”
“Daddy said a swear.” Milly declares quietly.

“We had enough gas, goddamnit!”
“You think it’s a leak?” she asks.
“I don’t know. That or the fucking gauge is off!”

Milly reaches forward from the back seat.

“You lose your gold star.” she says with a grimace, removing the sticker from her father’s wrist.

“Where are we?” Beth questions.
“Imanpa.” Alex replies.

“So how much further?”
“Two-hundred fucking kilometers!” Rod shouts, punching the dashboard once more.
“We will never make that, not out here.” she says with a tremble.
“We got no choice. We’ve got to try.” Rod states solemnly.

A quiet few moments pass.

“We’ll take as much as we can carry. Only the essentials. Let’s move.”

On his command, they exit the vehicle gathering at the rear. He opens the back doors 
and is greeted by an almost forgotten gift.

“Looks like Milly just saved us.” he announces.

That roadside item she pleaded over - a rusty little red wagon. It had seen better days 
but was still intact and functional. This meant they could transport their few remaining 
supplies. Not to mention the five gallon water jug - which was still nearly full.

Rod and Alex load the wagon. Beth fills two backpacks with most of what’s left. Milly makes 
sure to pack her purse with all that will fit. They save the important things for last.

Rod tucks away two handguns and grabs the flamethrower and fuel tank. Alex follows suit, 
sticking a pistol in his pocket, then taking up the rifle. Beth hands Alex one of the packs, slings 
the other over her shoulder and straps a sheathed machete to her back, keeping one in hand.


It was time to march.


https://imgur.com/RfCeCMc

"Killing Fields" - First in the four-part series 'Chimera'. 
Mixed media on plywood. My 131st painting.

[somethingelseishere]

The four travelers move briskly down the highway - Rod in the lead, Beth and Milly trailing 
behind with Alex guarding the rear. Each head on a swivel. There was no telling when trouble would arrive.

After a few kilometers they stop for a water break. Rod removes the fuel tank from his back, 
setting the flame-gun down beside it. Beth fills a small plastic cup and they pass it around. 
Alex checks the shortwave for any news.

“Still pretty choppy.” he relays.
“Shut it off, gotta save the battery.” Rod instructs.

Beth stands next to the wagon, her beast of burden, finishing the cup of water and wiping sweat 
from her brow. She gazes out into the bush - beaten down by centuries of scorching heat - her eyes 
settle on a small grove of trees. A minuscule garden of Eden in the otherwise endless red clay.

Then a sudden change - her heart races - she detects movement!

“Rod, the trees.” she gasps.

They all lock onto a dark figure maneuvering in the distance. Rod slings the tank back on - 
flamethrower in hand. Beth grips her machete tightly. Alex raises the rifle. Milly finds safety 
behind her mother.

“Let’s go.” Rod says to Alex.

The two jog towards the disturbance. Closing in, the smell of rotting flesh stains the air. 
They cautiously slow to a walk.

Weapons poised to engage - the abomination clings desperately to the trunk in the upper 
limbs. It was one of a ghastly concoction - chimpanzee, wild boar and human. Referenced in 
short order as a choarman. One of several bastardized species created in an underground lab 
for the purpose of release in the last days of civilization - in hopes of eradicating any resistors.

The scene was nightmarish. Three disemboweled bodies - man, woman and child. Most likely 
a family. They were what the choarman was feasting on until being interrupted. Now the ungodly 
creature stands snorting and howling on a high branch of the tree. It has to be done.

“Make it count.” Rod tells his only son.

Alex raises the barrel, aims and eliminates the threat. Headshot. The beast tumbles to the 
ground, losing blood on its travels.

They share a look - this was not a place either of them thought they’d ever be - but this is 
where life has brought them. It was time to get moving.

Two hours and eight sore feet later, they come upon what is thought to be an apparition. 
Could it actually be real? As they draw closer the image remains - a small, dirty pick-up truck. 
Sitting just off the road, it appears to be in decent condition. It was too good to be true.

“I’ll check it out, stay here.” Rod says before advancing towards the abandoned vehicle.
“Oh please God let it be.” Beth whispers.

Rod circles the truck slowly with a wide berth. Nothing unusual, he ducks his head inside 
to check for keys - no such luck. He waves the family on anyway.

He lays down his weapon and pops the hood, surely a quick once-over wouldn’t go amiss. 
The others arrive, anxiously awaiting.

“You think it’s got any gas?” Alex wonders aloud.
Rod is still tinkering under the hood.
“We’re about to find out.”

He pulls a folding-knife from his pocket and sits in the driver’s seat.
“Load up, just in case. Milly, up here with me.” 

Alex and Beth lift the wagon into the truck bed and climb aboard. Milly jumps into the 
passenger seat. They were all hoping for a miracle. Rod fumbles a few more seconds 
with the wires under the dash - VROOOM - it worked!

“Yes!” he yells, elated.
The gauge shows just over an eighth of a tank.

“Go, go!!” Alex cheers, Beth wipes away tears of joy.

They speed off, leaving a thick cloud of orange dust behind.

https://imgur.com/WWnITBU

"A Scourge of Blasphemy" - Second in the four-part series 'Chimera'.
Mixed media on plywood. My 132nd painting.

[somethingelseishere]

“Aww no no no no, come on you son of a bitch!” Rod begs.

The truck is jerking wildly, it was inevitable - the dreaded stall. It had finally run out of gas. 
This was not their day.

“Goddamn piece of shit!”

Milly was not amused.

“You said another swear.”
“Well it probably won’t be the last.” he assures.

He tries restarting the engine but the wires have nothing to work with. Alex and Beth are 
already unloading the back.

“Here we go.” Rod says to Milly.

They all congregate at the back of the truck before departing.
“Let’s have some water and be on our way.” Rod insists.

Beth fills the cup for her husband.
“This is suicide. I mean, I know we can’t stay here but we will never - “
“Then we’ll die together.” Rod interjects.

He finishes the drink and passes the cup back to Beth. He takes up his weapons and starts 
walking towards the enormous rock formation in the distance - Uluru - their destination.

Chatter on the shortwave spoke of resistor camps being set up around the sacred site. For whatever 
reason - the abominations wouldn’t go near it, maintaining what some claim as a ten kilometer perimeter.

If one could make the treacherous journey, it was indeed a safe haven - but it was still nearly 
a hundred kilometers away.

Beth grabs the wagon handle and chases after Rod - Milly beside her, Alex close behind.

“Hey, hey!”
Rod ignores her.

“Wait a goddamn minute!” she demands.
“Now mommy said a swear.” Milly points out.

Rod stops and turns to face her.

“I want a gun.”
He scoffs.

“We need to keep moving.” he adds, dismissively.

“Look, we have no idea what’s between us and the place we’re heading. We’ve already crossed 
paths with unspeakable tragedy. Better three shooters than two. I want a fucking gun!”

Inches apart - eyes locked in a tense stand-off. Rod, with his best poker face, reaches into 
his left pocket granting her request. He grabs the business end and extends it to her.

“The bullets come out here.” he says slyly, tapping the barrel.

He resumes marching. Beth stares at the weapon - its cold, shiny black sheen - then hurries 
it into her pocket and continues pulling the wagon.

Thirty minutes later - Rod notices the highway ahead bending to the left - he stops and wipes 
perspiration from his forehead.
“We gotta get off this road.”

The rest of the family come to a momentary halt.

“I’ve seen a map before, this highway crooks and turns, it’ll add at least twenty-five unnecessary 
kilometers to our trip.”

He points to the towering rock.
“We’re going there - and the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.”

“You mean through the bush?” Beth challenges.

“We’re out of food, dangerously low on water with at least two days of travel left - cutting corners 
is our only hope.” he says with conviction.

There were no dissenting opinions - in fact, not one of them spoke against the idea.

“I’m thirsty.” Milly says sheepishly.
“Get her a drink.” Rod says, putting his feet into motion.

Beth fills the cup halfway and hands it to her daughter. Milly empties the cup and gives it 
back. She and Alex begin walking, Beth gets herself a drink. Alex stops several feet away to 
wait. She notices the tap on the jug is leaking.

She fiddles with it but water continues seeping out. Spotting a small scrap of paper in the 
wagon, she balls it up and plugs the nozzle. It works. She sighs deeply and follows her family 
into the desert.

After an hour, they come upon a shallow canyon with massive boulders positioned at the 
opening. Rod stops short of the entry point.
“Eyes open, barrels up.”

Each of them ready their weapons. Beth lays her machete in the wagon and pulls the gun 
from her pocket.
“Stay close.” she cautions Milly.

She nods, moving slowly behind her mother, clutching a plush bear toy to her chest. Then as 
if on cue - the left rear wagon wheel breaks off. The vessel stops dead in its tracks.

“Goddamn piece of shit!” Milly exclaims.

They all stare at the little girl - then break into laughter. Milly kicks the wagon several times to 
vent her frustration.

“Good thing there’s not much left. Pack up the ammo, we’ll take turns carrying the water.” Rod says.

Beth divides the munitions between her pack and Alex’s, then lifts the water jug - panic strikes - it’s 
much lighter than it should be. She raises the large plastic container to confirm. Looking into the 
wagon, the paper plug lay in a small puddle. Their last few liters gone.

“Water’s empty.” she announces, holding up the jug.
Rod spins around to meet this new obstacle.
“We had almost two gallons, what the hell happened?”

Beth doesn’t know what to say. He storms over, grabs the container and glances down into 
the wagon. Beth wells up.
“I thought I fixed it.” she says, tears trickling.

Rod is furious. He flings the jug against the canyon wall.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he barks.

Milly drops her bear and covers her ears.

“You were already upset and we were losing time!” she pleads.
“You’ve just killed us all!”

The screaming match continues several more seconds.

“Stop it! Both of you!” shouts Alex.

Rod kicks the wagon, flipping it over.
Beth attempts to compose herself.

“Where’s Milly?” Alex asks.
“Oh God, Milly!?” Beth calls out, looking in all directions.

They arm up and begin the search. Piercing the eerie silence - a child’s scream. The three
race towards the sound at the mouth of the canyon. They surround the cluster of huge 
boulders - ready to fire - but they are paralyzed by what emerges. They were not prepared 
for what they were seeing.

It lumbered into view - covered in filthy, matted fur - filling the air with the stench of rot 
and decay. One of the most dreaded abominations.

A hybrid of Silverback gorilla and Kodiak bear origins. Its face gnarled and unnatural - like 
a forced fit of jigsaw puzzle pieces. Rearing up on its hind legs, the twelve-hundred pounds 
of murder stood over ten feet high. The behemoth clenches Milly, small and lifeless, in its jaws.

The beast bites down and shakes its head violently side to side, the poor child’s body falls 
to the ground in pieces - her blood painting its broad chest, her entrails dangling from its 
frothing mouth. It raises its paws into the air and thunders a roar that reverberates off 
the canyon walls.  There could be no Hell worse than this.

Beth issues a blood-curdling scream and collapses, wailing and convulsing in the dirt. 
The father and son open fire with everything they’ve got. The grotesque creature is down. 
Rod blankets the beast with flame as it lay beside his young daughter’s remains.


https://imgur.com/BmVp7QJ

"There is No God Here" - Third in the four-part series 'Chimera'.
Mixed media on plywood. My 133rd painting.

[somethingelseishere]

Beth is utterly destroyed. Rod struggles to offer comfort. Alex sits on a rock several 
feet away, despondent. No living thing should have to witness such horrors. Rod sits 
on the ground holding his wife close.

“Beth, listen to me.” he whispers.
She doesn’t speak or open her eyes.

“I know you are - WE are devastated - but we can’t stay here.”
Her breathing is labored.

“All this commotion is bound to attract more of these things. We’re not safe here.”
She pulls away from him and is quickly on her feet.

“We’re not safe here? We’re not fucking safe anywhere!” she screams.
“Which is why we need to keep moving.” Rod pleads, voice cracking.

“Why? This is as good a place to die as any! Because that’s what we’re facing!” she continues.
“At least we’ll be close to her.” she adds, sobbing.

Rod grabs and hugs her tightly, her body shakes with torment.
She finds a still moment in the pain.

“Can we at least bury our youngest child?”
Emotion spills down Rod’s face.

“Yes. Yes.” he says nodding.
Beth wipes her face and attempts a smile.

“You just sit, we’ll gather some digging sticks.” he says.

She looks around for a place with cover.
“I need to pee.”

Rod scans the area.
“Behind those rocks. Alex, check it first.”

The boy picks up his rifle and moves to the boulders for a quick inspection. He gives 
a nod of safety to his mother, she walks over and hugs him tight.

“I love you son.” she says softly in the embrace.
“I love you too mom.”

She disappears behind the rocks. 

Rod and Alex scour the area for fallen limbs stout enough to penetrate the dense clay. 
Several minutes pass - Beth hasn’t returned.
“Go check on her.”

Alex approaches the rocks and listens.
“Mom, you OK?”

There was no answer.
“Mom?”

Her gun discharges. Alex jumps, Rod whips around in shock.

“Nooo!” the boy screams and darts behind the boulders.

Rod couldn’t reach him in time. He found Alex on his knees, arms around his mother - sobbing, 
covered in Beth’s blood. The day had been too much for her.

TWO HOURS LATER

Rod and Alex are exhausted but were able to construct a loving monument to a wife, 
mother, daughter and sister. They topped the shared grave with as many large stones 
as could be found. This was a pain that would never leave them.

The father and son sit in a shaded area paying their respects.

“No sense in heading out now, it’ll be dark soon.” Rod submits quietly.

Neither of them speak for several minutes.

“You think things would’ve been different, if we never left home?” queries the boy.
“You mean Maryland?”

“Yeah.”
“There’s really no telling. This thing was worldwide.”

“Why did they do this?” he asks his father.
“Some people just can’t be satisfied. They want more than they can ever use. It’s a sickness.”

He absorbs his father’s words.

“Most of the time, I think humans are the real monsters.” Rod says, getting to his feet.
“Let’s see if we can find some of those fruits.”

A faint sound breaks the air. And again. Now closer, louder. It was howling. They freeze, 
looking at each other - then quickly move to their weapons.

“We’ll check this end first, get behind me.”

Alex loads the rifle and follows his father. Slow, quiet steps. The noise draws nearer, rising 
in volume. A frenzy of snorting and grunting. There had to be twenty of them. The canyon 
opens into a clearing, Rod and Alex stop, weapons aimed - standing before them - nearly two 
dozen choarman.

“OK, real easy, let’s back it up, I face this way, you face the other. Now.” Rod says calmly.

They inch their way back into the canyon, abominations in tow. After a few yards - the situation changes.

“Dad?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s more.”

They stop, Rod looks behind and sees what has to be at least a dozen more of the same 
creatures. They’re hemmed in. The two groups initiate monstrous screeching. A show of power 
before they attack. This was as real as it gets.

“Son, I’m sorry your life turned out this way.”

“Dad?”
“Yeah.”

“Make it count.”

The two open fire, destroying a great many of the beasts but there were enough that got 
through to sway victory in their favor. Rod and Alex fought hard, side by side, to the end.


Their deaths were swift.

https://imgur.com/caVFb6g

"The Haunted Lands" - Final in the four-part series 'Chimera'.
Mixed media on plywood. My 134th painting.

[somethingelseishere]

New Haven, Connecticut - PRESENT DAY


She sat under a large elm tree, looking like all the other people in the park - but inside - 
everything was going wrong. Her existence had run aground. Nothing with a pulse, just one 
day painfully, meaninglessly bleeding into the next.

Offensively empty. A life less lived.

Claire was at a crossroads. At twenty-six, she felt there was nothing left for her. Something had 
to change, sooner rather than later. Not a hairstyle, outfit or fucking hobby - she burned for 
meaning and purpose. Something special that would spark substance into her miserable being.

She often thought, in her darkest humor, that she’d either have to kill someone - or herself - 
in order to fulfill that desperate void. It was no longer an idea she took lightly. Claire chose the 
former. Now was the time to put her plan into action.


It’s all just a roll of the dice anyway.


Just a little teaser post for my next storied-painting.

[somethingelseishere]

Claire visits a coffee shop every day to people-watch. Perhaps her new conquest would 
materialize there. Days pass and no one seems to call out to her. She’s reconsidering her 
exit strategy when great potential comes through the door.

An older woman, about thirty-five, very nice looking in a dressed-down sort of way: queen 
of the plain Janes. Dark, near shoulder-length brown hair, fit but curvy, pale but healthy 
looking, bright clear eyes with an absolutely delicious English accent - the cherry on top!

Oh how she had waited.

She sat with her coffee a few tables away. It wasn’t long before Claire caught her 
eye - they both smile.

Eager to get her new life underway - Claire initiates.

“I’m sorry to bother you, have we met? You look ever so familiar.” she asks.
“No, I don’t believe we have. And it’s no bother. Why don’t you join me?” the woman kindly offers.

Claire smiles, goes to retrieve her drink and returns to the woman’s table. 

“I’ve just moved here from Oxford and don’t know a single soul.” the woman admits.
“Ooo, England, I’ve always wanted to visit there.”

“It’s a wonderful place, the culture and history.”
“My name is Claire.” 
“I’m Amelia, very nice to meet you Claire.”

They share a friendly handshake. Claire is immediately spellbound by the woman’s 
gorgeous sea-green eyes.

The two ladies talk, getting to know one another and decide to go for lunch at a nearby 
cafe. Afterwards, they proceed to Amelia’s house for further conversation over drinks. 
Claire’s plan was falling perfectly into place.

Amelia puts on some music, disappears into the kitchen and returns with two glasses and a bottle.

“I hope red wine is okay, it’s all I have presently.”

Claire beams and reaches for one of the glasses.

“That’s fine, I love red.”

They sit for a while, chatting, enjoying one another’s company. Claire is having serious 
second thoughts. She glances down at her bag on the floor beside her feet - tucked away 
inside - a syringe full of knockout drugs. Could she go through with this? Amelia was such 
a lovely lady, a kindred spirit and she was already growing quite fond of her. 

Then a flushing wave of discomfort washes over Claire, she felt faint. This couldn’t be the 
two glasses of wine. The room felt fuzzy and took on a gradual spin. Oh this wasn’t good 
and she couldn’t hide her concern.

“Are you alright?” Amelia asks.
“I don’t know. I feel, strange. Dizzy.”

The fair-skinned brunette leans forward, placing her almost empty glass down on the large, 
beautiful oak coffee table and sits back in her billowy recliner - watching Claire struggle with 
this new set of circumstances.

“You know, when you approached me in the shop, I knew you were the one.” she says.

Claire fought to catch her breath, tears slowly caressing her cheeks.

“Weeks on end, day in - day out, waiting, hoping.”
“What have you done?” Claire barely manages above a whisper.
“But my patience has finally been rewarded. The Universe has brought you to me.”

The woman stands from her chair and moves gracefully towards her guest.

“It’s fine Claire, just let go, let it take you.”

Everything was blurring badly, light dimming, sound fading. Claire slowly spills from 
the plush luxury of the sofa onto the immediately unforgiving hardwood floor. The woman 
kneels beside her, cupping Claire’s head in her left hand - brushing her soft auburn hair from 
those pretty brown eyes.

“Careful what you wish for.” Amelia quietly taunts.


The words that carried her off into the dark and distant.


TWO HOURS LATER

Claire regains consciousness, bare of any clothing, chained to a wall in a dismal concrete 
room without windows. The furnishings were sparse, the air cool and damp. A long, black 
table hosts several erotic toys along with enough sharp steel implements to take an elephant 
apart. Blistering panic hits.

Several feet away, her rich umber mane now in a sophisticated bun atop her head, Amelia 
stands naked - covered only in what looks like blood.

“I hope you don’t mind, while you were out - I availed myself to a sample of your internal essence.”

Amelia had been a medic in the British Army for three years - a fact she neglected to 
divulge in previous conversation.

Claire now realized why her arm held the dull bruising pain at the elbow-bend. Not to 
mention the band-aid.

“You just smelled so scrummy, I had to have a taste, feel you on my skin.”

The woman lifts a serving tray from the table and bounces quickly over to Claire.

“Can’t have you feeling woozy now.”

On the tray were a few shortbread cookies and a small cup of apple juice.

“Seeing as you’re a bit tied up at the mo’, I will oblige.”

She raises one of the cookies to Claire’s quivering lips, Claire reluctantly indulges her. 
She did feel so very worse for wear. Losing nearly a pint of blood will do that.

“And a little drink.”

Amelia holds the cup to Claire’s mouth and she takes a few sips.

“Now, that should right the ship.”

She returns the tray to the table, spinning on a dime to face her new acquaintance.

“You know how to really tell if a melon is ripe?”

She leans in close to Claire’s left ear.

“You lick it!” she hisses, flicking her tongue underneath the fleshy lobe.

Claire spots the syringe she had hidden in her purse on the table amongst the toys and tools. 
Amelia catches her gaze, offering a devious grin in return.

“I wasn’t going to do it, I swear!” Claire cries.
“You lack follow-through.” the woman scolds callously as she rearranges the collection of 
blades, saws and gouging objects.

“You’ll play the part of innocence. I’ll be both your ruin and redeemer.” she says facing 
away from Claire.

The young lady has truly wandered into the lion’s cage. 

“Let me go and I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise!”

Amelia turns, her dead eyes glare at the frightened creature in chain-cuffs.

“I’m going to fuck you, torture you, kill you and eat you.”

She walks seductively towards her new plaything, stopping very close, their noses touching.

“Thoughts?” she queries in a whisper.
“Please, please.” Claire begs, her breathy rasp barely audible.

The unhinged woman pulls away with a jerk, taking a few steps.

“But I am completely eco-friendly. Not one solitary inch of you shall go to waste.”

Claire’s chest is heaving, a few gentle sobs escape.

“Your hair, your skin, your eyes. I will use it all.”

Claire shatters into frantic, ghastly howling.

Amelia attaches a large rubber phallus to a cordless drill.

“Now my flower, let’s see what you’re made of.”

She had her fun with the girl, long into the hours of the night. The following day - things 
became much more serious. The lessons of bloodshed were excruciating. Claire’s wailing 
would never be heard beyond the concrete walls of that subterranean butcher’s lair.


She lasted all of seven hours.


https://imgur.com/XNPofa6

"Claire" - Mixed media on plywood. My 135th painting.

[Mister Obvious]

“I’m going to fuck you, torture you, kill you and eat you.”

Laaaawwwddd.

Laaaaawwwwwddd lawd lawd, SEIH...

[somethingelseishere]

Hahaha. Yep, Amelia is that bitch. Usually very subtle and understated. UNTIL she's not.

[somethingelseishere]

I'm working on my next story/painting project. Nothing to share yet except for it's going
to be a three-part series - I think - and it's about ... justice. Yeah, we'll call it that. lol