Okay, I figure as I seem to be coming up with so many little pieces I'd keep them in one place to avoid clutter.
I hope you can enjoy some of the little things I write here (both the silly parodies and the more serious stuff), and I'd love comments/constructive criticism on EEEEEEEEVERYTHING. Thanks.Just for some clarity, I should probably say that most stuff here is written on impulse usually. I'm sure some of you guys know what I mean, when sometimes an idea just smacks you in the face and you have to write it down, no matter how silly it may seem, just to get it out of your goddamn head. Unfortunately most of mine seem to hit whilst i'm at work, and I spend the whole rest of the day thinking about that one silly thing and it drives me crazy until I can get home and just Write! Write! Write!
Putting the links at the top of every post is too much effort, I'll just keep them all linked in the first post now.
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Links:
The Collector
Walls
Call Me Lilly
Treading Water
Unfamiliar Gestures
Strange Tastes
The Letter
Comforts
Hanako, The Ultimate Weapon
Rin's Itch
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The Collector
Yet another little story to while away time that should be spent doing more constructive things.
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'Any obvious cause of death?' I ask, running a hand through my unruly black hair, already knowing the answer.
'No, same as all the others. He was a healthy young man with no life threatening disabilities, and there's no sign of physical injuries or a struggle of any kind. Kid even has a smile on his face - I’d wager he didn't even know he was dead before he found himself at the Pearly Gates.'
Moving my gaze from the lumpy white sheet on the floor I meet the gaze of the schools head nurse. 'Let me know if the autopsy brings up anything.'
'Sure - but I'm not banking on it, it hasn't yet after all.'
Bidding him a quick goodbye I turn to walk back to room, my eyes lingering for a second on the blurry form of a mural, painted across a nearby wall.
Ninth one in the last month, each one seemingly dying from out of the blue. The corpses had started turning up about a month ago, just after the festival.
Opening the door to the corridor leading to my room, a familiar figure comes out from the door opposite mine.
'Oh, hey Kenji.' he greets me hurriedly, seemingly in a rush to be somewhere.
Sighing inwardly I put on the familiar act I adopt around people. 'Hey bro, what's up?'
'Oh, not a lot. Just going to hang out with Rin, actually.'
An uninterested 'Oh.' is the only response I can muster in my current state.
Noticing him looking at me with something like shock and expectation, I add 'Careful of them feminists bro.'
Seemingly satisfied at my reply, he nods and carries on past me, a slight spring in his step. Well, one person isn’t listening to my rants about feminists – should probably keep the act going anyway, it seems to keep him away from my room.
Turning the key in the lock, I enter my room, stopping to slide shut the ten dead bolts and chains behind me. Sitting down at my desk I remove my glasses and rub the balls of my hands against my eyes, as if trying to force some energy in straight to my brain.
‘C’mon body, just stay awake a while longer.’ I mumble to myself, flicking the screen of my PC on and entering the familiar algorithm that makes up my nigh-unbreakable password. Well, unbreakable to anyone in this school, anyway.
As the screen buzzes to life my old internet session looms on the screen, multiple tabs open along the top, with headers ranging from ‘Undetectable poisons’ to ‘Spirits – Are you being haunted?’.
With a familiar sigh I start working my way through the tabs, not really paying attention to the more superstitious sources, but some others definitely turn up some leads that would be worth looking into.
Feeling the bottle of whiskey on the desk next to me with my hand I twist the top off in a few fluid movements, moving the bottle to my mouth. It’s gonna be another long night.
Bzzzzzt
Bzzzzzt
Upon opening my eyes they instantly clamp shut again when met with the bright morning sun, sending a blinding pain through my neural pathways.
Squinting them open slightly slower this time, I look around for the source of my awakening, my eyes finally settling on the phone on the desk next to me, shaking the whole surface and making the sound of an angry bee.
Wait, my phone? Checking the caller ID I flip it open and move it to my ear.
‘Nurse, sup?’
‘Not good news, Kenji.’ Comes the response, his voice missing the cheerful undertone it usually carries.
‘Not another one so soon, surely?’
‘Unfortunately so. You might wanna come down and see this one, just outside the doors to the boys dorm.’ With that he hangs up, leaving the sound of static on the line.
What would I wanna go and see? One stiff is the same as the rest as far as I’m concerned, leave all the gruesome bits to medical practitioners.
Still, it must be pretty important, maybe something was different about this one? The thought spurning me on I get up from my chair, popping a couple of pills in my mouth and ducking my head under the tap to swallow them. That should take care of last night’s whiskey.
Making sure the computer is locked and seemingly turned off; I start the painstakingly long process of opening my door. Better safe than sorry.
By the time I make it downstairs Nurse is already there, standing next to a familiar looking white sheet on the floor.
‘So, what did you want me here for?’ I ask, staring down at the white plastic.
‘I’m sorry Kenji, but…I think you should see this.’
Leaning down and pulling back the top of the sheet, the nurse takes a step back.
Can’t say I can recognise much, hangover and general lack of eyesight considered, all I can make out is a mop of messy brown hair.
Wait.
Messy brown hair. Making his way back to the dorms between last night and this morning?
‘Hisao.’ I mutter to myself, kneeling down to the lifeless body on the floor.
‘I’m sorry Kenji, I know he was your friend…’
Huh?
‘In my line of work you can’t afford friends, Nurse, I’m sure you understand the sentiment. But still, he was a good guy. Liked his whiskey. And anyway, he had a wonky heart. We can’t rule out a heart attack, can we?’ I ask, although I know the answer. This is exactly like the others.
Nodding, Nurse turned around and pulls out his cell phone, walking off as the conversation starts, although I can just make out, ‘Yep, another one…’
I wasn’t lying when I said you couldn’t afford friends in my business, but this kid lying on the floor was the closest thing to I had. Now, It’s personal.
I’m about to stand up again when a flash of red catches my eyesight, barely visible on the shirt collar mostly hidden under the sheet. Reaching my hand slowly out I grab hold of the sheet, pulling it down a bit further. More of the red marks, splashed all over his shirt.
Blood? Well, that’s different.
Scratching the dried substance with one fingernail I hold it up in the air and squint at it, finally bringing it to my nose.
No, not blood. Paint.
Well, he did say he was going to see that Tezuka chick last night, maybe I should go talk to her, she was the last one to see him alive. Whether or not I can get a straight answer out of her is another question.
That’s settled then. When the nurse returns I excuse myself while he stays over the body until the ambulance arrives from the small town down the hill. Yamaku may have excellent facilities for taking care of the needs of a few hundred disabled kids, but it doesn’t have a morgue, as far as I know.
Making my way down the path leading from the boys dorms, I pause as I find myself in front of the main school building. Where from here?
I guess the art room is as good as any place to start to find that weird girl, so I start making my way there, passing by the odd group of students milling around before doing whatever it is they do on Sundays.
When I’ve made my way to the art room on the third floor of the school building, I knock on the closed door to see if anybody is inside.
‘Come in.’ comes the monotone voice I instantly place as Tezuka’s, despite having only talked to her once or twice.
Opening the door with a slight creak of its hinges, I step inside the room. Lined along one wall is a series of portraits, and though I can’t make out exactly who they’re meant to be, the subjects in them are clearly screaming, their eyes wide in pain and shock.
How fucked up is this girl?
Noticing her staring at me I move my attention back to her.
‘Hi, I’m Kenji Setou…mind if I ask you some questions about Hisao?’ I ask her, her only response for a few seconds silence.
‘I’ve seen you about. Sure.’
‘Well, uh, how well did you know h-‘ I start to ask, before she cuts me off with a question of her own.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asks, the tone of her voice staying perfectly level.
‘What’s wrong with me…? Oh, right, I’m legally blind.’ I reply, confirming my suspicions that this girl isn’t all there.
‘Oh, that’s a shame, I already have a blind person…’ she says, a hint of disappointment breaking through to her words.
‘Already have a blind person? What do you mean?’ I ask her, moving closer to the portrait hanging on the far left of the wall, something in it inviting me for a closer look.
‘Oh, I’m a collector. I collect people. But I as I said, I already have somebody who’s blind, so…what do I do with you?’ She asks, seeming asking herself the rhetorical question, not me.
My breath catches in my throat when I recognise the picture – it’s Hisao, but he looks to be in great pain, his normal indifferent features contorted in pain.
Scanning along the other pictures, I recognise in turn the faces of the nine other dead bodies that have been found around the school grounds recently.
‘Tezuka…what do you mean you collect people?’ I ask carefully, turning around to see her staring at me, a paintbrush held between two of her toes.
‘I collect them. Their souls. I trap them in paintings.’ She tells me this as if she’s describing her lunch to me, her tone devoid of emotion.
‘But I already have someone blind.’ She repeats her earlier lamentation. ‘So I’ll just have to kill you. Sorry.’
Before I can even process what she’s saying she’s moved the paintbrush to her mouth and is making her way over to me.
The handle of that paintbrush looks kinda sharp…shit.
Throwing myself to the side I narrowly avoid the paintbrush that is thrust into the position my neck was in a second before, instead scratching a shallow cut into my shoulder. Before I know it she’s on straddled me, and I throw my arms up to keep the sharp weapon in her mouth away from me, planting them firmly on her small shoulders and pushing.
The shock makes the paintbrush fall out of her mouth and clatter to the floor, but she uses her backwards momentum to bring her legs up and wrap them around my neck.
She squeezes, her powerful thighs crushing my windpipe while she looks on with a hungry look in her eyes.
Flailing my arms out wildly a searing pain shoots across one of my hands as it comes into contact with a small cylindrical object. The paintbrush.
Closing my hand carefully around the brush end, I lift it up, twisting my body to get better leverage.
She doesn’t see the stab coming, taking the sharpened wooden handle deep into her left eye socket, her legs around my neck instantly sagging loose.
Feeling my consciousness slipping away, I take one last look up to the paintings on the wall to see them rattling, followed by a bunch of translucent figures bursting free and disappearing through the roof of the art room.
How am I gonna explain this? I wonder, the last thought going through my head as I lose consciousness on the art room floor, still under the motionless body of Tezuka.
