Twisty Ends and Tangly Tales 2 by Susan Brewer ~ A Review

Twisty Ends and Tangly Tales 2 by Susan Brewer

Published: Amazon Kindle

Length: 103 Pages (Kindle Edition)

Where Did I Get It? Off Amazon for free. Now available for £2.06.

Summary (From Goodreads): A follow up to Twisty Ends and Tangly Tales 1, here is a further selection of short stories by author Susan Brewer. Originally, the majority of these were published in various women’s magazines. Humorous, romantic, nostalgic or even a bit zany, these stories are the perfect length to read while you have your cup of tea or coffee. And maybe a biscuit as well!

Opening Line (of the first Short Story ‘A Surprise Proposal’):

When Adam proposed, Sue was surprised – and delighted.

~

My Review: Twisty Ends and Tangly Tales 2 is a good fun read perfect for either dipping into between chores or reading cover to cover on a train (which is what I did). The stories are charming and made me smile and even giggle out loud at the antics of characters and the surprise twists in the tales hinted at in the title.

Not a series in any way but a collection of entirely unrelated stories, there is something for everyone but there is an over-running sense of warmth running through the stories – they tug at the warm fluffy places inside you and bring out smiles at happy memories and situations similar to ones we have all experienced. Moments where you have heard something the wrong way or a child has said something that has baffled you or made you giggle at an inappropriate time and, of course, that time where you flashed your most beautiful smile at the hot bloke on the street only to later realise your eyeliner was smudges and you had your jumper on inside out. We’ve all been there and Twisty Ends plays on this to make you laugh.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading the collection and though I can’t say as any of the stories will stay with me forever, they were a fantastic way to pass my train journey home from London on a sunny afternoon and earned me a fair few funny looks as I giggled away to myself in the corner.

My Rating: 4/5*

Oddities and Entities by Roland Allnach ~ A Review

Oddities and Entities by Roland Allnach

Published: eBook, All Things That Matter Press, March 2012

Length: 266 pages

Where Did I Get It?: Received for review from NetGalley.com

Summary (From Goodreads):

“There’s more to this world than flesh and bone.” Set in the mysterious space between the everyday world and an existence just beyond reach, “Oddities & Entities” traces a path through the supernatural, the paranormal, and the speculative. With moments of horror, dark humor, and philosphical transcendence, these tales explore a definition of life beyond the fragile vessel of the human body. An anthology of six stories, “Oddities & Entities” is the recipient of four national book awards from the 2012 Readers Favorite Book of the Year Awards and 2012 USA Book News Best Book Awards.

Opening Line (of the first story in the book, Boneview):

Before Allison knew the meaning of words or the context of visions, she knew the Curmudgeon.

~

My Review:

This is possibly one of the best short story collections I have ever picked up, at the same time as being one of the oddest.

The six stories take elements of human psychology and well-known supernatural and paranormal creatures and turns them on their head with spine-chilling results.

All of the stories were clever and very different from each other – at the end of the book I could remember the main elements of each with very little thinking because they had each left me with a little something to think about and mull over.

Allnach’s characterisation is fantastic, no two characters were the same and none of them felt flat or unrealistic as is often the case in short stories. Within the confines of the short story structure it is very easy to have one-dimensional characters because there simply isn’t time to fit in a mass of backstory and the main story you want to tell, any writer will tell you it’s difficult to strike a balance successfully. Allnach never once fell into this trap, cleverly using the characters thoughts and memories to fill in gaps in some stories and simply by moving the time quickly and efficiently through others. Every story got me engrossed enough to not want to put it down because I wanted to know what the characters would do next – their world was always so close to mine in every way it was a bit like following the progress of a friend.

Several of the stories got gory and violent but never in a way that seemed out of place – it was always something you had seen coming and fitted perfectly with the story, inevitable but often gruesome – my stomach turned on more than one occasion. Despite this, I never once wanted to stop reading, the stories were so intriguing that I simply had to keep reading – my face must have been a picture as I winced my way through some scenes, equally disgusted and fascinated. It was a bit like watching a scary movie from behind a cushion – I wanted to look away but simply couldn’t in case I missed something important.

Every now and then I got a bit bogged down by long words and slightly heavy language but it was never enough to make me stop reading and usually was used well in context that I could carry on reading and glean the meaning from what else was said and going on.

The thing that has stayed with me most from reading Oddities and Entities is the realisation that the human brain is very finely tuned and it’s surprisingly easy for that balance to be disturbed and thrown off course, often without you even noticing. That’s what made it so scary, there were very few points during the stories where I could have put my hand on my heart and sworn that I wouldn’t have made the same choices as the characters in their situation – even the choices that led to things I normally wouldn’t even imagine.

It turns out much scarier things can happen than turning into a ‘vampire’ if you get bitten by the wrong sort of bat, the grey sense of order in the world maybe has much darker roots than the ‘human logic’ we assume and those weird, whispering, out-of-character thoughts you sometimes have? Yeah, they’re not the ‘you’ that you think they are…

My Rating: 5/5*

Saying Goodbye – Part III

This is the concluding piece of my three part ‘Zombie Romance’ short story, Saying Goodbye. If you haven’t read parts one and two yet, you can find them here and here. Everything will make much more sense if you read those first.

It feels somewhat fitting, posting a zombie story on the day of the apocalypse. Except that I think the apocalypse was meant to have happened by now and I missed it…

Saying Goodbye – Part III

363 Days Later…

Tessa twirled in front of the full-length mirror, stopping to face Mitchell with a smile. “What do you think?”

Mitchell blinked distractedly. “It’s nice.”

Her smile faltered. “Nice?”

“I, er, I like how blue it is. And the shiny things are pretty too. The sequins. Yes, the sequins, I like those.”

Tessa forced her smile back into place and twirled again, trying to ignore the slightly confused expression on her husband’s face. She was losing him, slowly but surely. It wouldn’t surprise her if she had to explain why they were going out again in a few minutes time – he had already asked three times.

This was their last night together on their own and Tessa was determined to enjoy it. The virus was maybe going to win the war but, God-damn it, they were going to win this fight. Mitchell wasn’t done yet.

“Come on, let’s go. We can have a couple of drinks before the meal then,” Tessa picked up her coat. “Maybe try out those new cocktails on the menu. You said you liked the look of that Stargaze one.”

“Only because it said it sparkled. I want to see if they put glitter in it or something.” Mitchell shrugged on his jacket and passed Tessa her handbag, all signs of his earlier confusion gone. “Though it’ll have nothing on you even if it is glittery. You look amazing!”

Tessa’s smile was real as Mitchell kissed her cheek and offered her his arm as they locked their room behind them. The virus wasn’t quite strong enough to steal him away just yet and there were times when it was like there was nothing wrong with him at all. They still had time.

At the bar they drank cocktails and giggled like teenagers until a waiter appeared to take them to their table. Tessa stumbled as she climbed off her bar stool and found herself wrapped in Mitchell’s arms as her caught her, kissed her hair and stood her back upright. His eyes met hers as she was about to turn and follow the waiter and he mouthed the words ‘I love you’ at her with a wink.

Beaming, Tessa followed the waiter out of the bar area and into the restaurant where their table was waiting, beautifully laid out with candles, a basket of miniature bread rolls and napkins folded into roses. She gasped slightly when the waiter shook out her napkin to reveal neat embroidery of her and Mitchell’s names in the centre. It was a delicate personal touch and Tessa loved it. She briefly wondered why they had never eaten here before until she remembered, this was a very special restaurant with very special clientèle. The Last Supper catered exclusively for those with five days or less left on their tags, they were extravagant and indulgent and nobody had ever dined there more than four evenings in a row. Ever.

Swallowing that thought with a mouthful of wine, Tessa grinned over at Mitchell who was studying a fork with all the concentration of a toddler.

“What’s this called?” Mitchell tapped a fingernail against the metal and listened closely to the sound. “Why is it so spiky?”

Tessa felt her heart sink. The times where Mitchell was lucid and completely himself were getting shorter and shorter, it was only an hour or so since he had looked at her in her dress and forgotten the word for sequins and already he was studying a fork like he had never seen one before.

Before she had a chance to answer, the waiter returned with the menus. He placed them down in front of them and smiled, clearly recognising the glazed look in Mitchell’s eyes as he did so.

“Your menus. They contain lists of the meals you can choose from for your dinner tonight. First you have a Starter, they are on the first two pages.” He opened Mitchell’s menu and pointed at the page numbers before continuing. “Then you choose a Main from page three or four, a Desert from page five or six and finally a coffee or liqueur on page seven.”

The waiter took Mitchell’s fork from him and polished it on a cloth tucked into his belt. “You use this to eat your food, you stab with the tines on the top. It’s called a fork, from the Latin ‘furca’ which means ‘pitchfork’. They’ve been around since the Ancient Egyptian times in various guises and are a very clever and useful invention. Try it – you won’t burn your fingers when you eat if you use it.”

Mitchell grinned broadly as the waiter placed his fork back on the table. “Wow, thank you!”

Tessa flashed a grateful smile at the waiter before hiding behind her menu, the last thing she needed Mitchell to notice next was the tears in her eyes.

“I’ll be back in five minutes for your order.” The waiter’s hand on her shoulder was warm and reassuring, he saw this every night. He understood.

With a bit of guidance from Tessa, Mitchell picked out his food and they gave their order to the waiter who never stopped smiling once. Tessa liked him, he didn’t make her feel like she was fighting a lost cause, he made her feel like she was in an expensive restaurant with her husband for a special occasion. She needed that confidence to keep herself together whilst Mitchell looked vaguely at the world like a lost child.

“You look nice.” Mitchell met her gaze. “It it a special day?”

“Yes. We’re celebrating our lives together and how much we love each other.” Tessa took another mouthful of wine. “You’re wearing your favourite tie.”

Mitchell looked down at his tie and wrinkled his nose. “Really? This thing? But it’s such a horrible shade of purple.”

“You wore it on our wedding day. It matched the bridesmaids and… and the napkins.” Tessa closed her eyes and drained her glass. “It was the same colour as the sash on my wedding dress, too.”

“But why? What on earth possessed you to have bridesmaid dresses that colour? It’s so tacky looking.”

Tessa’s voice was barely a whisper. “You chose it.”

“Oh.” Mitchell fell silent and was soon playing with his fork again.

Tessa signalled to the waiter for more wine and turned her attention to the other diners in the restaurant. There were four other occupied tables: one other couple much like themselves, tucked in a corner with candles and a bread basket, two small groups that looked like families where Tessa couldn’t work out who was infected with the virus and who wasn’t as they all sat in sullen silence avoiding each other’s eyes and one large group in the corner who seemed to be having a party. She stared at the big group for a while, they had clearly drunk a lot and were laughing and joking with each other, they were all sporting paper crowns and there were balloons instead of candles spaced along their table. It must be someone’s birthday, she decided. A good excuse for a final party at any rate.

Half way through their starter, Mitchell shook his head as if he had been daydreaming and started back up their conversation from the bar. Tessa wondered if he was even aware of how the virus was eating away at his senses bit by bit, he never showed any sign of noticing the change. She wasn’t sure whether or not to tell him.

Two and a half hours later the candles had burned low, Tessa was savouring the last mouthfuls of her Bailey’s when Mitchell paused halfway through a sentence and fainted.

Before she had chance to speak, Mitchell was surrounded by staff. They checked the time remaining on his tag and shone a light into each of his eyes, talking constantly at a level Tessa couldn’t quite hear.

Eventually Mitchell groaned and came to and everyone stepped back.

“What happened?” He pressed a hand to his forehead and squinted as if the room was too bright. “My head hurts.”

“You had what we call a ‘Turning Spell’. It’s quite common in persons with only a day or two left on their Resurrection Counter. Sometimes it can cause early Turning but you seem fine so it must just be the virus making a particularly violent attack on a section of your brain. Nothing to worry about now, it’s rare for someone to have more than one Spell in a twenty four hour period.” The man speaking smiled reassuringly. Tessa had thought he was another waiter but suddenly suspected that all of the staff in The Last Supper were more than they appeared.

“Please may we go home now?” Tessa didn’t mean for her voice to come out whiny but she was tired and afraid and Mitchell’s ‘Turning Spell’ had just reminded her how little time they had left.

“Of course.” The doctor-waiter waved to the man that had been serving them all night. “We’ll just get your leaving gift prepared and fetch your coats from the cloak room.”

“What about the bill?” Mitchell still looked dazed as he watched their waiter return with their jackets and two beautiful gift bags.

“On the house. We are terribly sorry your night was interrupted in such a frightening manner.”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Mitchell frowned. “You can’t control the virus.”

“It is our policy that anyone who does not have the perfect visit does not have to pay. Please, accept our apologies.”

Mitchell nodded, took his gift bag and hung his coat over his arm as the man gently propelled him towards the door, Tessa followed slowly, clutching her own bag and trying to avoid the eyes of the other diners as they stared.

This was not the evening she had planned.

Back in their Turn Camp apartment, Tessa left Mitchell hanging up their coats and fled straight to the bathroom to compose herself.

It was almost eleven o’clock. Mitchell was due to move to his quarantine apartment at midday tomorrow. That left thirteen hours.

Thirteen more hours before they had to say goodbye.

Tessa didn’t know where to begin, so instead she peeled off her dress and washed off her make up before heading back out into the bedroom to find Mitchell.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house? Get out!”

Tessa ducked the phone Mitchell flung in her direction.

“OUT!”

“Mitchell! Mitch, it’s me. Tessa. I’m your wife.” Tessa shouted through the door she had closed when Mitchell had reached for more ammo. “Can I come back in?”

“Wife?” His voice sounded quiet and lost. Tessa didn’t need to open the door to know that he was staring at the wedding ring on his finger and trying to work out why it was there when he couldn’t ever remember being married.

She waited a moment and then slowly opened the door and slipped back in, pulling her dressing gown off the hook on the back of the door and putting it on. Now was not the time to be parading in her underwear, even if it was her favourite set.

“Mitchell?”

He was sat as she had pictured him, twisting the ring round and round as he stared at it.

“It’s engraved on the inside.” Tessa stayed by the door, not wanting to crowd him. “It might help you remember.”

He pulled the ring off and tilted it toward the light, turning it slowly as he read the words:

M & T. THE REST OF FOREVER STARTS NOW. 12.10.28.

“What’s your name?”

Tessa closed her eyes as tired tears escaped and burned down her cheeks.

“Tessa. Tessa Evangeline.” Her voice broke and she swallowed hard. “Mitchell, I…”

She never got to finish her sentence. Mitchell’s eyes rolled into the back of his head in the perfect echo to the fit he had suffered when he died the first time and he began to shake.

This was different from when he fainted earlier, it was as if he was in pain – his body thrashing and twitching, small moans escaping his throat and a thin line of liquid ran down his cheek from his left nostril.

This wasn’t right.

Suddenly he relaxed. It was over.

Tessa exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and began to cross the room.

Mitchell’s eyes opened and Tessa screamed.

They were black. Where his irises should have been there was nothing but black and the whites were the yellow of damp paper.

He’d gone.

They should have had thirteen hours together. He should have had another day.

Thirteen more hours.

Tessa backed slowly to the door without turning away from Mitchell, feeling behind her for the small compartment on the wall. The Panic button.

Mitchell lurched to his feet and swayed, uncoordinated and unbalanced.

Tessa fumbled open the plastic case and leaned on the button.

She should run. Mitchell was gone, it wasn’t him any more.

The guards might not make it to the apartment before Mitchell found his balance enough to cross the room.

She should have shot him when she had the chance.

Option One would have saved them both.

She hadn’t pulled the trigger and now Mitchell was moving.

The guards still weren’t here.

Six paces.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Saying Goodbye – Part II

A Zombie Romance story in three parts. Part I can be found here if you missed it on Tuesday.

Saying Goodbye – Part II

 

Mitchell frowned.

 

The ceiling above him was unfamiliar – blank white tile with utilitarian bright lighting. It was as if he was in a hospital or something, not at home.

 

He felt Tessa squeeze his fingers and turned to face her, smiling – nothing beat waking up beside her every day, even after being together for so long.

 

She was sat in a slightly-too-low chair beside him, her face pale and her eyes bloodshot.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Sitting up, he scanned the room they were in – white walls, metal cabinets, machines, screens, a giant mirror. This was not home.

 

“Tess, what’s going on? Where are we?”

 

Tessa had to swallow before she could speak, she looked more than a little afraid. “You tripped and hit your head, Mitchell. There was nothing they could do, you had a fit and no matter what they tried your body just kept giving up. They tried so hard, they did.”

 

Mitchell fell his stomach plummet. “What do you mean?”

 

“Mitch, you’re dead.” Tessa’s composure finally crumbled and she put her face in her hands and sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Mitchell hated seeing Tessa cry, instinctively he swung himself round so he was facing her and pulled her against him. She was sobbing against his legs then, her tears warm through his jeans as she cried herself into silence. “Shhh, it’s not your fault.”

 

So, this is what it was like to Resurrect. Mitchell had wondered, it was just a bizarre idea – dying and then waking up again. He didn’t remember as much as he had imagined he would. Well, he could remember his life and everything like that – but of his death, he had no memory at all. It was like the first thing that happened was that his brain turned off.

 

After a while, Tessa sat up, wiping her face on her sleeves and fussing with her hair. She wouldn’t look at him, it was as if she was going to catch death off him if she met his eyes.

 

“Tessa, look at me.”

 

She stared at the floor.

 

“Please.”

 

Tessa’s brown eyes slowly raised up to meet his and her composure faltered again. He saw the corner of her mouth twitch as she tried to force away the tears and had to resist jumping off the table and wrapping his arms around her.

 

He wasn’t sure if that would push her too far though. She had, after all, just watched him die.

 

“I didn’t know what you would want me to do, Mitchell.” Her voice was small and shook almost as violently as her body was doing. “I never thought we’d have to do all this. I never asked…”

 

Unable to hold back any longer, Mitchell slid off the metal table he had been sitting on and crouched by her side, wrapping his arms around her and breathing in the smell of her hair. He smiled. Cherries. Tessa always smelled of cherries, it was one of his favourite things – though now he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever told her that.

 

“I love the smell of your shampoo,” he murmured into her hair, not wanting to move away from her warmth.

 

“It’s just the same one I always use.”

 

“I know. I have always loved it, I just never thought to say it.” Mitchell rocked back on his heels so that he could look at Tessa’s face. “There’s probably going to be lots of things like that now, isn’t there? Things we never said because there’s always next time.”

 

“Does that mean you’re staying?” Tessa’s eyes wandered over his shoulder to something at the other side of the room.

 

Mitchell nodded. “If that’s what you want? Just for a while, it doesn’t have to be the whole year if that’s too much to ask. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay when I…”

 

Tessa nodded and closed her eyes in a long blink. A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek, Mitchell leaned forward and kissed it away.

 

“I’m not going to just leave you, Tessa Evangeline Roberts, I meant what I said in those wedding vows of ours. ‘In sickness and in health’ – well I guess this is sickness and I am not just going to abandon you when I have the option not to. I love you, Tess. I didn’t mean to die.” Mitchell felt his voice crack but his eyes were dry. Zombies couldn’t cry, the virus wasn’t that clever.

 

“I know. I’m sorry too, Mitchell. I love you.” Tessa dropped out of her chair onto the floor in front of Mitchell and wrapped her arms tight around him. “Can we go home?”

 

Gently, Mitchell helped Tessa to her feet trying to ignore the fact that he had just noticed his total lack of a heartbeat.

 

It was odd, only now that it was missing did he realise how much he had previously been aware of it. There was no gentle thumping in his chest after the exertion of standing up, no heavy breathing, nothing. It was like he was dead.

 

He was dead.

 

Mitchell shuddered. He kept forgetting that part.

 

Not very long since, he had died. Dead as a Dodo.

 

Yet here he was, helping his wife find her balance and doing his best not to look at the pistol on the cabinet at the side of the room. She had held that gun in her hands and thought about shooting him.

 

He couldn’t blame her. He might even have done it, if their roles had been reversed. Who knew?

 

But she hadn’t and now she wanted to go home.

 

If Tessa wanted to go home, then home they would go.

 

He had 365 days after all. They didn’t need to start worrying about what they were going to do until tomorrow at least.

 

First they needed to go home and get some sleep.

 

Mitchell led the way to the door, but it was Tessa who reached out and pushed the green button marked ‘EXIT’ which released the automatic locks and allowed the door to be pushed open.

 

They were met by a doctor in a lab coat and Mitchell guessed by Tessa’s half-smile that he had been one of the ones trying to save his life earlier.

 

“We would like to go home, please.” Tessa’s voice was stronger now, but still quiet.

 

“Certainly, Mrs Roberts.” The doctor inclined his head in Mitchell’s direction, “Mr Roberts, are you feeling well? You had a very smooth Resurrection. Very calm.”

 

“I feel… fine, thank you.” Mitchell felt awkward all of a sudden, like he had walked into a party that he wasn’t invited to. One where all the other guests needed to breathe, and he didn’t.

 

“Excellent! Well, if you would just allow me to attach this to your left leg, then you can be on your way. I’ll help you to check out at the desk – you need to register as Resurrected, Mr Roberts, as your current status will read ‘Deceased’. Lift your trouser leg a little… ” The doctor bent down and carefully attached the tag around Mitchell’s ankle.

 

It was cold but soon warmed to his skin temperature. There was a sharp pain when the doctor secured the clip but it quickly faded as he stood up.

 

“All done!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

The doctor began walking down the corridor, smiling genially. “Now, if you would like to follow me, I will show you where to get yourself signed up.”

 

Signed up. As a Zombie.

 

Mitchell shook his head as they started walking. It was a very weird feeling, being registered dead but walking down a hospital corridor and getting smiled at by nurses. It was all going to take a lot of getting used to.

 

He almost wished Tessa had pulled the trigger when she’d had the chance.

 

Almost.

Saying Goodbye – Part I

After a big discussion with Liberty about this ‘Zombie Romance’ book that she reviewed a bit back, the whole ‘Zombie Romance’ thing began to play on my mind. Mostly it played on it in a ‘EWWWW, NOOOO!’ kind of way – why would you enter into a relationship with a decomposing, dead person who at some point or another is going to try to eat your brains? You just wouldn’t.

But the idea wouldn’t go away, for some reason my brain wanted to problem-solve this zombie issue and come up with a solution. Could it ever be plausible and non-disgusting to be in love with a zombie?

The solution I dreamed up in the bath one evening turned into a very definite story. It is a story of three parts which all involve death, zombies and love.

Here is Part I:

Saying Goodbye – Part I

Tessa stared at the monitors as they flat-lined again.

There was no coming back this time, no hope.

The doctors and nurses stepped back and carefully made Mitchell decent again. One of them had pushed the button on a large five minute counter on the wall. There were four minutes and forty-seven seconds left on it by the time the last doctor turned to leave the room.

Before he went, he paused and unlocked a small metal case beside the door and turned to look at Tessa. “Five minutes, you know the drill. Don’t worry about anything but you and him, we can fix everything else.”

Tessa nodded. She knew.

Five minutes. Two bullets. Three choices.

Option One: Use one bullet. Put it through Mitchell’s brain, now, before the five minutes are up and he comes round. Admit the fact that he is dead, accept it, finalise it and move on.

Option Two: Wait. Let him come round, say your goodbyes, share one last kiss and sort out any final wishes he has for things and messages for people. Then shoot him and move on.

Option Three: Walk out of the hospital hand in hand and spend up to the next 365 days saying your goodbyes and setting things in order. Go to Turn Camp, have a final holiday together, say goodbye, let somebody else shoot him when the virus hits his brains and he starts baying for blood as his body shuts down. Move on.

Of course there was always Option Four, the reason for the second bullet, but Tessa didn’t really want to consider that one. There were already too many horrible ways to die in the world without adding ‘shooting yourself’ to the list.

She looked at the clock. The green numbers were counting down, oblivious to Tessa’s emotions and confusion.

Four minutes and two seconds.

Four minutes and one second.

Four minutes.

Three minutes and fifty-nine seconds.

She closed her eyes, as if doing so would stop the clock.

Time.

There’s never enough of it when you want it.

She had wanted to spend the rest of her life with Mitchell. Yesterday they had the rest of their lives.

Hell, an hour ago they had the rest of their lives.

Then Mitchell tripped on a paving slab and cracked his head on a kerb stone, had some kind of crazy fit and there was nothing anybody could do. His heart couldn’t handle whatever stress his body had thrown at it and gave up.

The rest of their lives had gone without them ever having chance to taste it.

They’d only been married for nine weeks.

She opened her eyes.

Three minutes and twenty-six seconds.

Turning her back on the clock and forcing her eyes away from its reflection in the mirror on the wall, Tessa walked over to the gun and picked it up.

She’d never held a gun before and the feel of it in her hand surprised her. It fit nicely, like it had been designed to be held by a woman with fairly small hands. It wasn’t too heavy but had enough weight behind it for it to feel as dangerous as it was.

The safety wasn’t on. There was a big sticker on the lid of the case telling her so, even though it was common knowledge these days. It was a precaution – if you accidentally shot yourself in the arm because you weren’t being careful, then you couldn’t sue the hospital because they’d put a big red sticker on the gun case and you should have been paying attention.

Whilst your loved one lay first-time dead on the table behind you and the seconds were counting down before they Resurrected. Or before you had to shoot them to stop them from coming back.

Tessa could understand how you might accidentally hurt yourself.

She was quite afraid of doing it herself.

Mitchell was dead.

Two minutes and fifty-eight seconds.

Dead.

Was this the ending she wanted for them? Just this. No goodbyes, no final words. Just memories of twitching limbs, rolling eyes, doctors, wires, shouting, flashing lights and, ultimately, a gun in her hands at the base of his skull.

She couldn’t even remember what they had been talking about when they were walking together.

Not a clue.

Christmas shopping?

The weather?

That rubbish song at number one in the charts?

It could have been anything. Mitchell could have just told her how much he loved her – or that he fancied chips for dinner.

Tessa had no idea.

Two minutes and fourteen seconds.

Gun in hand, Tessa walked over to the metal table Mitchell was lying on. It looked cold.

She still hadn’t decided what she wanted to do.

Two minutes and one second.

There was a beep and the numbers turned red as the clock began to count down the final two minutes.

Tessa gripped the gun, careful not to squeeze the trigger or point the barrel at any part of herself. Or Mitchell.

She wanted to roll him over onto his side.

She didn’t want to press the gun to his forehead, she wanted to point it at the base of his skull. A clean kill. Break the spinal cord in one neat shot, destroy all chance of Resurrection.

The table wasn’t wide enough.

One minute and forty-two seconds.

She didn’t want to shoot him.

Not yet.

She wanted to see his eyes again. Clear and blue, not rolling blindly into the back of his skull. She wanted to hear him say her name, to feel his arms around her one last time.

Yes, she’d wait. They could say goodbye properly and then she would just have to close her eyes and pull the trigger and accept that everything was over.

All she needed was the chance to say goodbye. The thought of him leaving without that broke her heart almost more than the thought of living her life alone.

One minute and thirty-five seconds.

She’d never be able to do it.

She put the gun down on a cabinet, pointing at the wall.

Tessa was capable of a lot of things, but pulling the trigger on that gun was not one of them.

She dragged an uncomfortable looking, folding metal chair from the corner of the room, over to the side of the table and sank into it.

Mitchell looked like he was sleeping. All his muscles were relaxed and it was hard to imagine the expressions his face had twisted into as he had been dying not so long ago.

One minute and twelve seconds.

He’d wake up again soon.

One minute and nine seconds.

In a way, the virus was kind. The over-active electrical impulses it created preserved the body impeccably for a year after death. It couldn’t make your heart beat or your blood flow, but it kept your brain and nervous system working.

You didn’t need to eat, or breathe, but you could if you wanted. You needed to sleep just the same as you did before and you could dream and think but it was all on borrowed time.

The virus kept you alive as you for just one year. 365 precious days of living with your own mind and personality, your own bad habits and nervous tics before the virus wiped out everything and replaced it with a feverish and insatiable need to bite everyone and spread itself as far as possible.

Once you hit that point there was no saving you, the virus gave up on preserving your body and you began to degrade like the corpse that you were. You just shambled along, biting any thing that moved until your body fell apart and you finally, really died. Or until someone shot you in the head and put you out of your misery.

Forty-four seconds.

Tessa stared at her reflection in the mirror on the far wall.

It was clearly a one-way mirror and at least one of the doctors who had been in the room before would be standing there behind it, watching and waiting.

The second Mitchell stirred, they would start the timer on a tag. Counting down the months, weeks, days and hours until Mitchell would Turn.

He would have that tag attached to him before he was allowed to leave the hospital.

If he left the hospital.

Tessa paled as a thought struck her: What if he asked her to shoot him?

For all they were married and had grown up in a world of zombies and fear, not once had they spoken about this. Would he want to kiss her goodbye and then end it all, here in this room? Would he be angry at her for letting him come back at all?

He eyes flashed to the gun on the cabinet and then to the clock.

Eleven seconds.

There wasn’t enough time.

Option One was out of the running. Mitchell was coming back.

Seven seconds.

Tessa felt sick.

Five seconds.

Nervously she put her hand on his, pleased it was still warm.

Four seconds.

Three.

Two.

One.

I Believe In Fairies ~ a prompt for @libertyfallsdwn

I wish this cold had stayed as just that – a cold. Instead, I was in bed until almost one this afternoon after a night of hot and cold fever and throwing up. I feel mostly better now, aside from an irritating headache, a runny nose and a slight temperature.

Hopefully Liberty is feeling better than I am and is still up for writing a new instalment of There’s No Such Thing As Fairies.

Liberty, your prompt for this week is:

…Fever…

Enjoy!

xCx

I Believe In Fairies ~ a prompt for @libertyfallsdwn

As Carole is doing her utmost best to finish NaNoWriMo off this week (she’s currently only 3000 words from finishing and tomorrow is the last day!), I’ve said I’ll guest post a prompt for Liberty. (Liberty has finished her NaNoWriMo project already, so it seems only fair she should continue to have a prompt )

Last week Carole (or more accurately, Arthur) set the prompt of “Percy” for Liberty to continue her short story series with. You can read the excellent twist taken with that prompt over on Liberty’s blog.

Having just spent an hour in front of the sink clearing a massive washing up backlog (finally), and now relaxing with an Indian courtesy of a local takeaway place, my prompt is rather directly inspired by that.

Liberty, your prompt is

Having to finally do that which you know you have to, but don’t want to.. and gladly reaping the rewards thereafter.

Hope that spurns the creative juices out onto the page for you!
Caius

I Believe In Fairies ~ a prompt for @libertyfallsdwn

This week has been one of little niggly things resulting in several moments of grumpiness, stroppiness and quite a few tears – and that’s before you take the kids into consideration. Things have been forgotten and/or lost, random allergies have popped up and a million other tiny annoying things have happened – I’m quite looking forward to next week so we can start over.

However, today is Caius’s birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!) so there is, at least, plenty of cake floating around to patch things up.

Cake doesn’t add to wordcounts though, sadly, else I’d be roaring ahead in my NaNo. But prompts help add to Lib’s so here’s her next one for the next story in her There’s No Such Thing As Fairies series

Liberty, your prompt for this week is:

Exhausted

Enjoy!

xCx

I Believe In Fairies ~ a prompt for @libertyfallsdwn

With NaNo currently putting me through my paces it gives me a little kick of pleasure to inflict a writing task on Liberty too. Because I’m nice like that. And that’s why she loves me.

Last week I set her the prompt of ‘A Break In The Clouds’ and she responded with a particularly exciting instalment  of There’s No Such Thing As Faries, which you can read over here on her blog: Liberty Falls Down

This week has been a busy one – what with Hallowe’en and lots of DIY and house sorting going on in our little world – not to mention it being half-term so the Smalls have been very full on ALL day, EVERY day, so I feel that this week’s prompt should lead from something in that little lot…

Liberty, your new prompt is:

 

…Not a moment’s rest…

 

Enjoy!

xCx

November 2011 Challenge – Only A Bit Late!

You know back in November I said I was going to write a Short Story for TiddlyOmPomPom’s Personal Challenge? Well, it took longer than a month and ended up a bit longer than I expected – but here it is in all its first-draft glory.

Enjoy

Becoming Human

The man slumped in the corner of the room blinked twice before squeezing his eyes shut again. It was bright and his head hurt. A lot.

“Mngrff.” He groaned as he sat up, swiftly followed by a miserable, “Ow.”

“Oh quit moaning, you’ve only been here ten minutes. Wait ‘til it’s been fifteen hours – then it’s time to complain. Trust me, I should know.”

The other voice clearly belonged to a girl. She was somewhere to his right and he got the distinct impression that she wasn’t in the best of moods. He tried opening his eyes again, squinting at his surroundings whilst he struggled into a sitting position.

“Um. Is this Limbo then? Or have I just been transferred again? The last place was darker. And hot.” He stretched out as best he could – his body felt like it had been beaten with a stick before being thrown into the corner like a sack of potatoes.

“Course it’s Limbo. And where was hot? Who are you anyway?” The girl had stood up and was now standing over him, scowling accusingly.

Still trying to focus properly he looked at his new roommate, starting at her delicate bare feet and moving up to take in her long legs, perfectly toned figure, dark hair and honey-coloured eyes. Her skin was pale and almost shimmered in the light, like a doll in a china shop.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, damn.”

The girl cocked an eyebrow and waited.

“You’re an angel aren’t you?” he asked.

“Ten points to the idiot. Yes, I’m an angel – what’s the issue?”

“Er, well, I’m…” He paused and rubbed a hand across his jaw nervously. “Actually, I’m a demon.” He shuffled to his feet and held out his hand politely. “My name is Sadralsidon the Lesser. I am the son of Sadralsidon the Greater, fourth-cousin-three-times-removed of Lord Lucifer himself. But you can call me Sid if you’d prefer.”

The girl looked at his hand disdainfully before turning her back on him and stalking to the other side of the room and leaning against the wall.

“Sid? The first demon I ever meet and it’s called ‘Sid’. Typical.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at the ceiling.

Sid sat back, deciding the angel wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat. In fact, the more he thought about it, the angel wasn’t in the least bit how he had imagined an angel would be. The traditional white robes of the angels had been carefully customised and tweaked into a tiny dress that left very little to the imagination and he found himself blushing slightly as he realised just how short her skirt was. She hadn’t exactly been gracious or angelic towards him either, even before she knew he was a demon from Lucifer’s line.

After about ten minutes Sid shifted awkwardly, he didn’t sit well with silence and there wasn’t anything to do in the small, square room other than sit and stare at the grey walls and ceiling.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said finally – unable to hold his tongue any longer.

“I didn’t give it.” The angel turned her amber gaze back to him from the ceiling. “But if you must know, I am Chastity, daughter of Michael, Archangel and Prince of the Heavenly Host.”

Sid coughed. “Michael?”

Chastity did the eyebrow thing again and Sid felt the urge to cross his legs.

“The Michael who fought the dragon and cast him out, Michael? Or was there more than one?” Sid’s voice got hopeful towards the end.

“That’s the one. High and mighty Michael who isn’t above casting out his own daughter if she doesn’t conform to clothing regulations and fails her speech classes.” Chastity slid down the wall and neatly folded her legs beneath her, causing her skirt to ride a little further up her thighs. She didn’t seem to notice Sid swallowing and staring hard at the wall beside her head. “It’s not like I’ve ever really done anything wrong as such. Just not lived up to his stupid ideas of perfect – I’m an angel not a saint.”

Sid wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. Especially as he was fighting with the part of his mind that was willing Chastity’s skirt to ride a tiny bit higher and wasn’t sure he was capable of constructing a sentence that didn’t involve the word ‘legs’. Luckily he was saved the awkwardness by the room plunging into complete darkness which rather ruined the moment.

A disembodied voice echoed around them, shaking the floor with its richness. “Chastity, Daughter of Michael, rise and stand before me.”

One of the walls seemed to be glowing faintly and Sid was just able to make out Chastity getting to her feet and turning to face it.

“Sadralsidon the Lesser, Spawn of Hellfire, rise also.”

He did as he was bid. Moving to stand at Chastity’s side and squinting at the shimmering wall, trying to make out a figure of some sort in the light.

“You are both charged with failing your basic duties. Chastity, your behaviour falls beneath that which is expected of an angel. Sadralsidon, your behaviour is not that which is expected of a demon. You both must face and complete the challenges that will be laid out for you in this room in order to redeem yourselves and return home. Failure to make up for your previous actions will result in your being cast out to live upon the Earth – mortal and entirely human.”

The glow began to fade from the wall, returning them to darkness. Chastity shifted at his side – he felt her move forward towards the wall.

“Hey.” She sounded narked. “Hey! Is that it? The first thing anyone has said to me in days and that’s it? What do I do? Am I stuck with this idiot until it’s done or do we get separate challenges? ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!”

The light returned to the room to reveal two beds at either side which had not been there previously. Chastity was still muttering at the wall, kicking it occasionally and running her hands over it looking for some kind of door and hadn’t noticed the new furniture.

Sid wandered to the nearest bed; it was easily a king-size with a luxuriously soft bedspread emblazoned with a blood-red ‘S’ neatly covering it. He tentatively pressed his weight against the mattress and was pleased to discover it had just the right amount of give to ensure the perfect night’s sleep. It was a very long time since he had had a perfect night’s sleep.

“Gah! This is just the stupid sort of thing my father would dream up.” Chastity punched the wall one last time before turning away in disgust. She cradled her knuckles tenderly in her hand; they were already beginning to bruise. “Ow.”

Sid felt a bit sorry for her, and, in an attempt to cheer her up decided to direct her attention to the beds. “I don’t know what these challenges are going to be but at least they’re making sure we get a decent bit of rest before-hand. These beds are great.”

Chastity looked at the bed at Sid’s side, noticed the ‘S’ motif and looked around for her own. She snorted. “Ha. Clearly my sin is far worse than yours, Sid my lovely. You get a bed fit for a king and I get this.”

Sid finally looked at the second bed – it was a rough-looking object, carved from wood but not with much care or attention. The corners and edges were jagged and not sanded down and there was no mattress, just a threadbare sheet thrown loosely over the top of the solid base. A pale blue blanket, frayed and water-stained lay folded at the foot of the bed, clearly showing a large white ‘C’ embroidered in the centre.

“Oh,” he said. “Right.”

“Whatever, I’m tired and annoyed. A bed’s a bed.” Chastity picked up the thin blanket and spread it out.

Sid crossed the room and put an arm out to stop her getting in the bed, quickly retracting it and blushing furiously when he realised it was across her chest.

“Er, you can have my bed. I’ll take yours.”

She stepped back and looked at him, taking in his flushed cheeks, mussed mousey-looking hair and watery blue goat-slitted eyes. “What?”

“My bed. The big one. You have it.” Sid scuffed the floor with his shoe and studied Chastity’s slender feet. “I’m used to sleeping on hot coals and the like. This bed will be a relief, trust me.”

Chastity scowled. “That’s not fair.” She looked at Sid’s extravagant bed and thought for a moment. “We could share. There’s plenty of room in your bed – then no-one needs to be in the crap bed.”

Sid gaped at her, not sure whether he was more shocked by an angel saying ‘crap’ or suggesting that they share a bed.

“What? You afraid of having a cuddle?”

Sid swallowed.

“For pities sake! It’s massive – we could both get in and be nowhere near each other. You could fit ten of us in there no problems. Least we’d be warm and not stuck sleeping on that log.” She cocked her eyebrow again and waited for Sid’s response.

It took two attempts to make his mouth work. His brain was still processing the idea of sharing a bed with 9 scantily clad angels and didn’t seem to be able to manage speech as well. “It’s fine,” he said shakily. “I like a firm mattress. You take the other bed. I insist.” He quickly kicked off his shoes and climbed into the single bed before she could argue further. “Go on.”

He shut his eyes and crossed his legs as he listened to Chastity slipping beneath the silky sheets at the other side of the room. This place was worse than Hell, at least he knew what he was supposed to be doing in Hell – even if he wasn’t very good at doing it.

*

The first thing Sid saw when he woke up in the morning was the writing on the wall:

CHALLENGE RESULTS:

SADRALSIDON – PASS 0, FAIL 1 (1/3 COMPLETED)

CHASTITY – PASS 0, FAIL 1 (1/3 COMPLETED)

The second thing he saw was Chastity, fast asleep and peaceful. Pale and beautiful. Angelic.

It wasn’t all a dream then. And how had he failed? Failed what? He shut his eyes again and tried to go back to sleep. He couldn’t possibly fail anything if he was asleep.

Then the bed vanished and he head butted the floor violently.

“Ow.”

Chastity clearly had a softer landing – she was curled on the floor, tousled and confused looking. “What the…where?” She rubbed her eyes. “Oh yeah. Crap.”

“Again with the crap.” Sid dropped his head onto his arms. “I’m the demon. I’m supposed to do the cursing.”

“So why don’t you curse instead of sitting there looking all dejected and pathetic then?” Chastity stood, straightened her dress and began to comb her hair with her fingers. “I wonder what we did wrong last night then. Maybe we were meant to share after all.”

“I suspect that would have made me pass and you fail anyway.” He sighed and rolled his shoulders, wincing as they crunched loudly. “Now what do we do?”

“Wait for Challenge Number Two I guess. I don’t suppose you know how to plait hair, do you? It’s driving me mad being loose all the time.”

Sid shook his head, “Sorry.”

She shrugged. “Not to worry, I’ll teach you.”

And with that she settled herself on the floor in front of Sid, turning her back on him and scooting close enough for him to reach her hair.

Sid did his best, meticulously following her instructions and concentrating hard on making her hair lie flat and look neat. Desperately ignoring how close she was, how warm her skin was as his fingers brushed her neck, how his breath ruffled the fine hairs that had escaped his plait, how hard his heart was pounding in his chest. If this wasn’t one of the tests then he didn’t know what was. It was a torture far worse than anything he had ever been instructed to inflict in the rooms of Hell. Lust, it appeared, was a challenging thing to resist.

And Chastity seemed utterly oblivious to everything. Aside from bursting into giggles once when his fingers tickled her neck too much she simply sat there and guided him through the plait. Her innocence just made it worse.

As soon as he was done, Sid backed away, brushed down his jacket and avoided looking at Chastity at all.

“Hey, that’s not fair!”

Sid jumped at Chastity’s sudden outburst. “What isn’t?”

“You’ve had more challenges than me. You’re rubbish though – failed them both so far.” She pointed at the wall.

Sid looked and realised his line now read:

PASS 0, FAIL 2 (2/3 COMPLETED)

“Wonderful,” he growled.

“Oooh! Finally the demon gets grumpy.” Chastity grinned and ruffled his hair. “I was beginning to think you were making it up.”

Sid jerked away angrily and waved an arm at the wall. “What’s the point of all this challenge stuff anyway? Why not just punish us however is appropriate for our crimes and have done with it? It’s stupid. I’m a demon that refuses to torture people and you’re an angel that…that…doesn’t live up to her name. Or rather you do whilst implying that you don’t. Which is worse, by the way. Maybe they should just swap our places and give me wings and you a tail and have done with it. Maybe…WILL YOU GET OFF MY HAIR?!”

Chastity took a shocked step back. “I was just looking for your horns. I thought demons had horns.”

“We do, I’m just choosing not to show them.”

Chastity looked puzzled.

“If we looked all scary demon-y all the time it’d be less effective when we really wanted to scare people, wouldn’t it. Can’t do anything about our eyes but we can hide everything else.” Sid flattened his hair self-consciously. “I hide everything all the time. Never felt comfortable bearing all in front of people.”

Chastity leaned against the score board on the wall. “Show me.”

“No.”

“I want to see.”

“No!”

“Please, Sid?” She played with her plait, twisting the end of it around her finger as she begged him with her shimmering golden eyes. “I might never meet another demon – I just want to see what you look like underneath.”

“Nope. I won’t show people I’m meant to be torturing, why would I show you?”

“Because my Father told me I was never to set eyes upon a demon for I would be ‘consumed with lust’ and that I’d ‘fall from grace in such a way that could never be redeemed.’ So if you show me you’ll be getting one up on him which has got to score you some demon brownie points.” She grinned broadly. “I’d get one up on him too which would feel fantastic.”

Sid shook his head. “You are not what I expected of an angel.”

Chastity suddenly looked furious. “Oh don’t you start that as well. I can’t help it if I think saying ‘thee’ and ‘thy’ instead of ‘you’ and ‘your’ is stupid. I can’t help it if full length robes make me look fat and frumpy. I can’t help it if I’m curious and want to know things. It’s just who I am. Now show me your bloody horns!”

Sid narrowed his eyes. “Fine.”

For the first time in millennia, Sid dropped his guard. Relaxed completely. He sighed as he felt his cover-up fade away to reveal his burnt looking skin, pointed horns and skinny, arrow-tipped tail. The only thing that remained were his pale blue eyes, slitted like a goat’s and slightly nervous-looking.

Chastity stared. Then she started glowing and spread her wings out behind her, stretching them wide before folding them back up and letting them fade once more.

“You guys totally got the better deal. I want a tail.”

Sid slid back into his persona. Then adjusted himself so that his tail was still showing. “I didn’t think angels got jealous?”

“This one does.”

“Yeah,” said Sid, twitching his tail.

“Quit that,” she snapped. “Put it away.”

Sid grinned and faded his tail back into his persona, he found himself rather enjoying goading Chastity. It was the most demonic he had felt in a while. He pointed at the wall behind her. “You failed by the way.”

CHASTITY – PASS 0, FAIL 2 (2/3 COMPLETED)

“Ah, crap.”

*

“Wake, Sadralsidon. Stand beside the angel and hear me.”

Sid leapt to his feet almost before his eyes were open. He had been dozing in the corner and the booming voice had pulled him so swiftly from his slumber he was barely able to keep his balance. Chastity grabbed his arm and held him steady, muttering something sarcastic as she did so.

“You have been tested, both together and individually, and as of yet neither of you has passed a challenge. Demon, step forward.”

Sid stumbled toward the wall, not helped by Chastity digging him sharply in the side. “Um, yes?”

“You were provided with the opportunity to spend the night in luxury whilst the angel suffered an uncomfortable evening. Any demon worth his salt would have taken this chance and relished it, taunting and teasing. You, instead, chose to give up everything and take a more noble course. You resisted the quality of Greed and therefore you failed. Also, you were given a second chance to prove your demonic nature. You were presented with more than one opportunity to lure the angel with the quality of Lust. You could have had your way and left her defiled and graceless as demons are wont to do and yet you resisted. You resisted and therefore you failed. You are to be given one final chance, Sadralsidon, and then your judgement will be passed.”

Sid got the impression he was dismissed and mumbled an apology as he stepped backwards again.

“Angel. Come forth.”

Chastity stalked up to the glowing wall and stood, one hand on her hip and the other playing with the end of her plait. “What?”

“Chastity, when faced with an unexpected situation you responded not with meekness and humility, as you should have, but with anger and violence. You submitted to the sin of Wrath and bear the marks to prove it upon your skin.”

Chastity lowered her hand from her hair and inspected the bruising across her knuckles. “It’s coming up nicely, don’t you think?” She offered her hand to the wall. “Lovely shade of purple.”

“You have submitted to Wrath and therefore you failed. Also, you were placed in the face of temptation and gave in. Worse, you succumbed to the sin of Envy and revelled in the feelings of jealousy and bitterness instead of turning aside. Therefore you failed your second challenge.”

Chastity rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault I happen to want a tail.”

“Hush, Chastity, Daughter of Michael. You will be given one final chance to redeem yourself before judgement will be passed.”

“Whatever.” Chastity turned and stormed away to the other side of the room.

“Both of you, take this final chance or else you will be cast out from your homes, never to return.”

*

Two identical squishy armchairs appeared in the room some time later, accompanied by a coffee table laden with enough cakes, sandwiches and hot drinks to feed a small army.

Hungry and uncomfortable, Sid took a sandwich and settled into the nearest chair, throwing the plump cushions aside in disgust. “You know they use those in Hell, right?” He took a mouthful of salmon and cucumber sandwich and continued, “There’s a room full of sofas with massive fluffy cushions on. Men get sent in there and forced to sit on the sofas without removing the cushions. It’s horrible to watch – I hated being Cushion Demon. I only lasted a week before I started moving cushions for people and got re-allocated.”

Chastity gave him a look as she piled her plate high and carefully folded herself into the second armchair, pulling a cushion onto her lap to use as a table.

“That’s stupid.”

There was silence a while as Chastity munched her way through her mountain of food. Sid was pouring himself a coffee when she got up to get some more.

“You’re hungry,” he commented, rescuing a cupcake before Chastity took the whole plate.

“It’d be rude to waste it.” She balanced 3 plates on her cushion and one-handedly tried to pour a cup of tea. “And there’s no-one here to tell me to stop.”

Sid took the teapot off her and waved for her to sit down whilst he poured.

Chastity took advantage of her now free hand to grab another plate of sandwiches before settling back into her chair and accepting her drink.

“Anyway,” she said round a mouthful of cheese and tomato, “Cushion Demon?! Please tell me you made that up.”

Sid was a little insulted by her tone. “No. There are lots of demon titles – it’s all down to which particular bit of Hell you are in and what job you’re doing. You get moved around a bit until you find your perfect job. I’m the best Loquacious Demon Hell has ever seen.”

Sid smugly waited for the question he knew would follow, sitting a bit straighter in his chair and allowing his tail and horns to show through his façade a little.

“Location Demon? What’s that when it’s at home – a demon holiday expert?” Chastity swallowed her mouthful. “Didn’t think you lot had holidays.”

“Loquacious, not Location. It means I got to sit and chat to people.” Sid puffed his chest out proudly. “For hour upon endless hour I talked at people about whatever I wanted and they had no choice but to listen and answer when I asked them questions. You know how it is at parties and events when you get stuck with the person who won’t shut up or go away and all you want is for the floor to swallow you up? I am that person and the floor is incredibly solid. I was the very best at making people squirm and feel awkward and they had no escape. It was bliss.”

Chastity cocked her eyebrow, a much less attractive expression when her mouth was full of cake. “You were in charge of talking people to death?”

“Yes. Well, no, technically they were already dead. I was in charge of making them wish they had no ears and that they had been a little better behaved in life. That sort of thing.” Sid couldn’t take his eyes off Chastity’s meal. “Are you going to eat all of that?”

“Probably not. Getting a bit bored of chocolate cupcakes now.” She carefully lowered the plate of cakes to the floor and neatly stacked her other, now empty, plates beside it. “Is there any more tea, oh Loquacious One?”

Sid refilled her teacup. “Do they not feed you in Heaven?”

“Only nectar and other such pure stuff. And you have to eat it graciously and gratefully – I’d rather have sandwiches and cake to be honest.” She paused to hiccup before looking quizzically at Sid. “If you were so brilliant at being the Loquacious Demon, what are you doing here?”

Sid slumped, “I, er, got lonely just doing all the talking myself and tried to set up a discussion group.”

“A discussion group? Really? Sid, that’s ridiculous. You didn’t actually think that would work, surely? No matter how fantastic you thought you were at your job, you couldn’t have thought a discussion group would take off in Hell.”

Sid sank further into his chair looking sheepish. “ I just thought I could, you know, run debates and stuff like that – get a bit of interaction going between everyone.”

Chastity looked unconvinced.

“People started enjoying themselves and that’s a bit looked down on. Being Hell and all.” Sid sounded as miserable as he felt at Chastity’s battering. The discussion group had been his pride and joy. “They said I was encouraging friendliness and cheerfulness. Didn’t think they’d actually kick me out for it though!”

Chasitity laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t see why not – my Dad kicked me out for showing too much leg and saying things like ‘shut up’ and ‘crap’. That’s just as lame a reason.”

The room plunged into blackness.

“Oh crap.”

“Quite.”

*

Sid and Chastity stood beside one another looking at the faintly glowing wall, now emblazoned with the following, foot high lettering:

CHALLENGE RESULTS:

SADRALSIDON – PASS 0, FAIL 3 (3/3 COMPLETED)

CHASTITY – PASS 0, FAIL 3 (3/3 COMPLETED)

“I don’t think we did very well there,” said Sid softly, trying to break the silence.

“No sh…”

“CHASTITY!” The now-familiar voice boomed out. “You gave in to Gluttony. Sadralsidon, you failed to be strong in your Pride. You were both given ample opportunity to prove yourselves and you have both failed. You will now receive your punishment. There will be no appeal.”

*

The darkness lifted and Sid found himself still standing beside Chastity but no longer in their Limbo prison. There was grass beneath their feet and they both jumped when a bus thundered past on the road nearby. They watched a woman hurry by on the pavement, casting them a strange glance as she went.

Chastity turned to him and held out her hand. “You coming?”

He paused then took her hand in his and stepped forward beside her.

They walked. Neither of them looked back. Both of them smiled.

Copyright Carole Holland 2012