Mop Jockey

The Coffee machine was leaking again. It was always leaking again. The only time it didn’t leak again was when it was leaking still. It rarely had bouts of water retention. The engineer had been called of course, but he never really engineers anything, more like he just fixes a few pipes and mops up a puddle or two. To call him an engineer is a gross over exaggeration. He was more a janitor really, but I doubt he’d feel sufficiently happy with that title.

Still, here he was now, striding in with his swagger, work bag in hand. I dryly greeted him morning, to which he complacently replied in suit. He then proceeded to lumber to the machine, which still stood in it’s dark corner, surrounded by it’s own self created swamp, it was a caffeinated monolith to all the bacteria that worshipped at its feet.

The mop jockey, ignoring the world it was trying to create simply strode through the new society that was forming and cracked the machine open, unleashing a mild torrent of water over his feet, enough to wet the bottom of his trousers, much to his annoyance. I made sure to giggle at this, just to add to his misfortune and embarrassment. He turned to face me, with much chagrin. There was nothing he could say, I simply stared back in silence.

He continued to work on the monolith now, feeling my gaze on the back of his neck, I could tell. I stared on regardless, knowingly making him uncomfortable, having to be aware of his every move, the fear he must have felt in trying not to embarrass himself further was delightful. The society below his feet revelled in the humiliation he suffered as well, waiting with bated breath, waiting for him to spill some more primordial origins of life into their culture.

And he did just that. Away went all the powdered milk, spreading like a blanket of snow upon the swamp, dissolving into life. He let out a stifled swear, before restraining himself again. After a half hour of silence and awkward, self aware fumblings with screws and valves, he had seemingly stemmed the spring of life once more. He went to replace the monoliths inner panel, only to find the screw missing. Of course, it was by his foot, coated in the sludge. I don’t think I felt any more enjoyment than watching him pick up said screw and having to gently hold it and replace it into it’s hole.

With that, he was done, he closed up the front of the monolith again and waded back out of creation. He took his mop and bucket to it, wiping away most of the new life that hadn’t yet grown to decide it was a failure. Fancy that, robbing a bacteria of it’s chance at disappointment. Still, it wouldn’t take long for the next generation to live on.

I watched him leave, taking away a greater society still in his mop bucket, and looked back upon the monolith, as the spring started up again and started anew the pool of life.

To all my followers

Sorry a lack of posting of stories, or anything really. I’ve been busy with work, and just not had the effort to write. Hopefully I will try to improve on this soon! I thank you all for your constant patronage!

Loss Of Sight

The first day of my life as a blind man was an interesting one by far. It had all started out regularly enough, I woke up, got out of bed and began to make my way across to the curtains to let the light of the day in. My bedroom was usually dark you see, as I live in a well lit neighbourhood and it would often make it nightmare to sleep at night. I grabbed hold of the curtain as usual, and whisked it open to see the day. Only to my surprise I saw nothing, no shred of light, no glimmer of daylight, not even a harsh glow of a neon sign.

I began to wonder if I’d simply woken up in the middle of the night, and by some coincidence there had been a power cut, causing this irregular affair. I turned to check the time on my bedside clock, before realising again that it too used electricity, and it’d be of no help. I left my bedroom and went out to the kitchen to try and work out what was going on. I knew my home well enough, so at the time I figured nothing was amiss other than it being night and a power cut being to blame, as It seemed the only logical answer.

I felt the kitchen sink on the worktop, and knelt down to open the cupboard underneath to fetch some candles and matches. I placed a small tea candle on the work top above, found a box of matches and began to strike one to light the candle. It took me a second to get it the right way round and to strike it on the side of the box, but I finally heard the match ignite and the heat warm my fingers. Now this is where things began to puzzle me, as I stood in the dark, holding a match in front of my face, and being unable to see a thing. It felt peculiar to say the least. I shook it out, lit another, but it was the same issue. I brought the match close to my face to check it was definitely lit, and it was, as I began to singe my eyebrows and the tips of my fringe.

Now I was alarmed, as the truth started to appear. I made my way to my living room window, undoing the latch I slid it open and stuck my head out into the outside world. I could hear birds singing songs of the morning, car engines revving past, loud music playing from the trendy coffee shops opposite my block of flats, a general chatter of day to day life in the city. I could smell the strong odour of the coffees brewing alongside the fresh, crisp delights of spring in bloom.

I withdrew my head back into my flat, everything still as dark as it had been. I prayed I was still asleep and it was just a wicked dream, but after sitting alone in utter darkness for at least an hour, I knew it to be true. I was blind. I had lost something most dear to me, yet something I always took for granted. I hit myself over the head several times, in anger and in a vain attempt to restore my sight, but it was hopeless. I got up, felt my way back to my bedroom, this time much more cautiously, as if knowing I was blind made it more of a danger to move about.

I felt for my bed, and collapsed back into it. I reached for the handset of the phone and called the doctor, telling him who to see about getting into my flat, and where to find me. I lay back in my bed in silence, waiting for the confirmation that my life was now only half as enjoyable.

Western Vampire

“Looks like another one Gus. Dunno how these guys keep on getting killed this way, but this has gotta be what, the fifth one this month?”

“Nah, this is six, you forgot the old biddy over on the ridge, she got done too. Though they say she was dead over a month, so who knows how many more we’re missing. take him to the pit with the rest Frank, I’ll go get a posse, we gotta find this sunva bitch right now.”

Gus lowered his hat and began to kick the dust on the ground over the pools of blood below the body. He then walked over to the tavern to see who he could get to help at ten in the morning. He stepped in through the double doors, surveyed the people and began picking them at random.

“If I don’t force em, no ones gonna help out” he thought to himself, “so be it.”

“You, you and you, come with me” he spoke out loud, pointing at an assortment of regulars, those who looked only to be on their third drink of the day.

“Hey what’d we do sheriff, we ain’t harmed no one! ain’t even drunk yet damnit!” piped up one of the older, decrepit drunks.

“I know you aint, but we got another body punctured and dead out front, so we need to go find this guy. You lot are helping me, or I’ll have you run out of town. I don’t fancy your odds with this bastard out in the wild, do you?” He propositioned, “Now come on, Franks getting some horses and a gun for each of ya, and if you so much as misfire it anywhere near me, you’ll be dead in an instant. Got all that?” They nodded in unison “Good, now come on.”

The Tribe

The man in the net awoke to the chanting in the cave, disorientated and unaware of the predicament he was in. It looked like he couldn’t see in the dark, he hadn’t been down here long. I saw him brought in late last night, dragged in by the north entrance and hoisted up to the ceiling. This was a while ago, though I am unsure how long as I am no longer able to tell the passing of time.

He clearly grew distressed with each passing second as he realised his arms and legs were bound, and I think he eventually realised he was upside down, once his senses had returned to him. I would have cried out to reassure him he wasn’t alone, but there was nothing I could do to help him. It would’ve only serve to fill him with hope, for it to be dashed to pieces a moment later, along with his skull. I just sat in my cell, watching as he squirmed to try and get free as the chanting escalated into a tumultuous roar of excitement and fury. He was soon being lowered down from the ceiling, slowly descending to the ground he began thrashing violently, trying to escape his bonds, or to at least show one last act of defiance before he met his end.

He soon disappeared from view among the crowd. I could only hear the ravenous shrieks of the beasts swarm him, and only on a few instances did I hear what sounded like a human voice, screaming in agony. But I tell myself that was just the beasts celebrating, for I don’t wish to think he was alive throughout. If the same is to happen to me, I don’t want to know I will be alive, suffering for what seems like an eternity at the claws of those things.

Problem Solving

John placed the cup down onto the table, the aroma of coffee filling his nostrils, circulating the busy café. He carried on reading his paper, but keeping one eye upon the small gentlemen sat in the back corner. He was a small man, with greasy red hair. He’d been easy for John to spot, he would stand out in most scenarios with an appearance such as his. John carried on sipping his coffee intermittently while skim reading the news of the day. He knew he’d blend in well into the crowd despite his appearance. No one had raised an eyebrow at him, the strange, six foot tall man, carrying a robust metal briefcase. He knew how to blend in, how to be subtle. A trait many of his fellow men no longer knew.

He lifted the cup to his mouth once more, this time finishing up the last dregs of the now cold coffee. He wiped his mouth off with a napkin, folded it neatly and placed it into the top pocket of his suit. He cleared his throat, folded up the newspaper and left the café by the main exit, all the while subtly watching the man with the red hair.

“Not a clue” John thought to himself. “He’s far too busy watching who is in there rather than who isn’t.” John smirked and let out a sly chuckle as he walked towards his workplace opposite. It was a tall building, modern, tinted windows, chrome throughout, what was once a poor vision of the future.

Meanwhile the small red haired man kept quiet, pretending to listen to music on his phone, gulping down a usually relaxing earl grey. His steely gaze only occasionally attracting attention, he’d pretend that he was just fixated on something off in the distance. John meanwhile, had reached his desk upon the third floor and looked out the window to see he was still sat in the café.

“Good man.” he muttered. “You’ll make this so easy.”

He then turned back to his desk, turned on his desktop computer and began to assess the days work ahead of him, still glancing over to the man. Every few seconds though, he’d reach under his desk and open his metal briefcase, making a few quiet clicks from within, before returning back to his computer and carrying on with his work.

The red haired man, had of course now begun to attract attention due to the amount of time he’d sat in the café, nursing the one tea he ordered an hour and a half ago. He began to fidget, and would get up only momentarily to flick through a magazine rack by the counter. He picked up the days paper and sat back down, he began to flick through the pages, searching for something to ease his mind. As he turned the pages he came to the puzzle section, and began to ponder the first clue of the crossword.

A Primitive medical technique used to relieve people of mental ailments by making a hole in the head. (10)

The red haired man kept staring down at the paper, no one around him noticing the blood running out from underneath his vibrant, red hair. John was still typing on his computer, the window next to him was open, a gentle breeze blew through his office. His briefcase was now tucked away far under his desk, well out of reach. The phone on his desk rang, he picked it up and answered.

“John! How’s tomorrows crossword coming along? Don’t forget we need the final print by six so we can check it for corrections.”

“no problem sir.” John answered. “I’m just putting the finishing touches on it now.”

Deluge

Bills legs began to dabble in the slowly rising water beneath his feet, he grew concerned for the safety of his girlfriend, who seemed blissfully unaware of the danger they were in. She was too busy clambering over the rocks, exploring every crevice for hidden gems she wouldn’t find, marvelling at the sound the water made as it crashed within the confines of the cave.

“Hey Bill, look, look I found some water in this rock! Isn’t it cool how water flows through the rock, huh? I bet there’s some fish living in here, I’m gonna look for one!”

Bill looked down into the depths of the water. He couldn’t bear to respond. “I should have stopped her from going in” he thought to himself. “But I had to let her have her fun, didn’t I?”

while deep in thought, the water had began to flood up to his knees, slowly continuing up his thigh, steadily rising. He pulled his legs out of the water and retreated further up the rock formations within.

“Come on Sophie, let’s go look further in” He said solemnly, trying to mask his fears. “I bet we can find some hidden treasure elsewhere.”

Bill took Sophie by the hand and led her up over the highest peak, and down into another cave beyond, where the water had yet to ingress. It led straight to a sheer drop, overlooking a large atrium below. A deluge of water flooded in from a crevice in the north most wall, so far below them, it sounded akin to a bath being run.

“Hey look Bill, a waterfall! Let’s go down, I bet there’s hidden treasure behind that for sure!”

Before Bill could even utter a word, she wrenched her arm from his grip and began descending the most able looking stones, giggling all the way down. The sound reverberating throughout brought a smile to Bills face as he followed her down.

Solitude

Needless to say, that life was behind me, in my eyes I was no longer an Arken. It was none of my concern. Aft I had settled into my new home within the woods, my life was indeed pleasant. It felt strange to live to my own terms and no one else’s, to just support myself and not any other soul. I was in paradise, living off the land, hunting wild animals and growing crops to sustain myself. The arcadic rhythm of the woods left me feeling at constant ease,  hearing wild animals investigating my hut in the dead of night was reassuring, leaving me well rested and feeling like a part of nature, not an intruder.

I awoke late many days and sat within my luxurious surroundings composing music I had never composed before, making wondrous harmonies within the forest, oft local fauna would cry and shriek within rhythm, whether intentional or not, it still pleased me thoroughly.