Friday, October 18, 2013

Eyes See Cont.

“No. I didn't. I didn't want to. I didn't mean to.” He covered his ears with his stained hands. “He made me do it. He killed you.”
“I warned you not to listen to him. I warned you about his powers.”
“Oh. Shut up,” Michael yelled. He picked up a bottle to slam against the mirror. Shattered pieced of the mirror landed in the basin. And on the floor. He laughed. “That will shut you up.” Michael stepped out of his shoes. Set the shower to warm. Stepped beneath the flow to wash the blood from his clothes, and body. He stood there until the water ran cold. His wet clothes lay in a heap on the floor of the shower stall. Calmed in his mind by the time he stepped out to dry his body. Pleased his mother wasn't able to see him. “Bloody pest.” He smiled. Pleased with himself she had been exterminated in body. All he had to do was be rid of the rest of her.
“I heard you, Michael. You may have hidden the body. But. You can't keep me quiet. Your secrets will be exposed. Eventually.” a hideous laugh echoed in the bathroom before she left.
“Ah. Shut up. I'll find a way to squash your spirit,” Michael cursed. He made his way to the bedroom. Found some dry clothes to put on. Slowly. He made his way down the stairs to the study. Michael went to the wet bar to pour a whiskey. Straight. No water. No ice. He downed the drink in one gulp. Went to sit in the chair to see what had happened since he last tuned in. Closing his eyes. He waited. Frowned.
The scene hadn't changed. Except there were a few extra people moving around the bedroom taking photos. Searching for clues. The wife of Billy lay on the bed with the dagger in her chest. Yeah. War axe hadn't been moved from the man's back. “Can't see his face,” flashed through his mind. “I wonder if...” A female scream interrupted his thoughts.
Sergeant Rowlins had screamed. The scream had left her mouth before she was able to stop it.
Everyone stopped working to stare at her.
“Haven't been to a murder scene before,” asked Detective Fireside.
“I've attended many a murder scene, Sir. But. Not one where a body. Moved.”
“Moved,” came a sceptical reply.
“Yes. Moved. Like he was rolling over.” She demonstrated with her hands. “When I screamed. The body feel back into place.”
“Dead bodies don't move,” said Fireside.
“Rowlins is right.” Heads turned in the direction of the photographer.
“Not you. Too. Burns.”
Ray Burns walked to where Fireside stood. He clicked the camera to show the proof.
“Well. I'll be. How did that happen?” Fireside looked closer at the bed. No way was anyone able to crawl beneath the bed.
Fast moving boots pounded up the stairs. A breathless Terri came to a stop at the doorway. Two officers were right behind her.
“What happened? Who screamed,” puffed Terri.
“You shouldn't be up here,” snapped Fireside.
“Why didn't you stop her,” he growled at his officers.
“Run, rabbit, run,” replied one officer. “Have you ever tried to catch a fleeing, rabbit?”
“What has. Are you trying to be funny?”
“He means. They didn't have a chance of stopping me,” replied Terri. “I was the one to find my sister.”
“Did your sister ever suggest she believed this house to be.” Fireside glares at Rowlins. She stopped talking.
“Suggest what,” asked Terri. “What have you found?”
“Haunted,” finished Rowlins.
Terri shrugged. “Never mentioned anything strange, happening. Who is the dude with the axe in his back?”
“Dude. He's not,” Fireside asked, with a searching look.
“No. He's not her husband. Billy is away. Suppose to be working on a new novel.”
“Have you contacted him?”
“No. He's unreachable when at the cottage. Doesn't like to be. Disturbed.”
Fireside walked over to the chair to search the pockets of the clothes. He extracted a wallet from the pocket of the trousers. He opened it. Cursed.
“Has your sister mentioned a man by the name of, Lindsay Cox?”
“No. Does he have a family in this area?”
“No. Not of this area.”
“Jessica. What have you done,” wailed Terri, turning to leave the room.
“Interesting,” announced Fireside. He stared at the bodies. All eyes were trained on them to see if either one moved. The chiming of the grandfather clock broke the silence.
“Where does the wife live,” asked Rowlins.
“How did you know he had a wife?”
“The way you looked at the photo you quickly slid back into the wallet. Might be his sister,” she suggested.
“Either way. They have to be told. And we have to notify the husband. Where ever he is,” said Fireside, wondering what other pieces of this tangled web was yet to come to light.
He started toward the doorway. He ordered. “Keep a close eye on the bodies until they are ready to be moved. I'd like to know who else might have an interest in the identity of the male victim. Have a feeling he happened to be in the wrong place.”
“Move it, Rowlins,” fireside called on his way out the doorway. She shrugged. Took off at a run to catch up with him. He stopped. She nearly ran into the back of him. He stared at the other weaponry on the wall on the entrance hall.
“I suppose we can be thank our lucky stars the murder didn't use the ball, and chain. That wound have made a right mess of the victims. Those spikes look deadly.”
“Do you watch a lot of gruesome movies. Or did you use one in a past life,” asked Rowlins.
“I see enough battle scared victims every day in this job.” He headed for the front doorway. “What do you know about past lives?”
“No much. Not my cup of tea, Sir.”
“Have ant idea what moved the body?”
“Wasn't moved with strings. Not sure how might weight a ghost can lift.”
“Ghost,” snapped Terri. “What ghost. I've never seen one. Is there...”
“The sergeant consumed giggle juice with her breakfast,” Fireside answered.
“We need the address where to find the husband.” Rowlins flipped open her notebook. She wrote down the address. Told them how to reach the cottage.
“Do you want me to show you the way,” Terri offered.
“No, thank you. Maybe you have other close family who need to know. Take Constable Snow with you. He can take your statement. And any other information the family can supply.” Terri walked on shaky legs knowing what she faced on seeing the family.
“Give your car keys to Snow. You're not in a fit state to drive.”
Terri walked around to the passenger side of her car. Opened the door. Got in. Closed the door before resting back against the seat.
“Where to,” asked Constable Snow, after he started the engine. Terri gave him the address of her parents home.

Billy was woken from his drunken stupor by loud banging on the cottage door. His head echoed in time with each bang. Muscles protested any movement. Billy had fallen asleep at the table his head rested on his folded arms. He groaned. His head didn't feel like a part of his body. Too heavy. Standing slowly from the chair. He made his way to the front door. The banging persisted.
“Stop the noise,” said Billy, holding his hands to his ears waiting for the noise to stop. “Where's the fire,” he asked on opening the door.
“Billy Marshall,” asked the strange voice. He slowly raised his head. Placed a hand up to shade his eyes from the glare of the sun.
“Yes. What can I help you with?”
Fireside reached for his badge to produce it. “Detective Fireside.” He nodded to Rowlins. “Sergeant Rowlins. We'd like a word with you. May we come in.”
“Why are you here?” Billy blinked. A thought flashed through his mushy brain. “Who sent you. Not many people know where I am.”
“Terri Wise gave us directions to the cottage.”
“What had Terri done. Why didn't you go to her family. Or Jessica.”
“Where have you been in the past twenty-four hours?”
“Here. I haven't left since I arrived. Why?”
“Your wife has been murdered.” Billy's eyes backward before he collapsed to the floor.
“Well. Done. Sir,” said Rowlins. “You sure know how to deliver a punch without using a fist.”
“Smart ass. Go find a bucket of water.”
“No need.” She walked to the tap where there was a hose. “Pull him outside.” She turned on the tap when she picked up the hose.
“You can't use that,” he said, shocked at her actions.
“Who said I can't?”
“I did.”
“Oh. Look at the luxury liner. What I'd give to be out there.”
“Where?” Fireside turned in the direction of her pointing finger. While he searched for the non existent ship to find a person on a sailboard, she turned the hose on Billy.


Sunday, October 6, 2013

Eyes See

This is the beginning of a story I'm working on. Not sure how far I will get before the story runs out. So here are the first three pages.

Eyes See
My peaceful sleep was broken.
“Billy,” shouted a deep, demanding voice. The windows rattled from the vibrating sound.
“Who the hell is, Billy,” flashed through my mind. I didn't know anyone with that name. I'm not, Billy. Why did this person disturb my sleep. The unthoughtful beast didn't have the decency to apologise for disturbing my sleep. What galaxy did he yell from. One where good manners were in short supply. Where bullies ran rampant over citizens.
I rolled into a more comfortable position. Waited for my nerves to settle before drifting off to. Where?
A man sat on a chair. His head lay on his folded arms on a table. He had long, dark scruffy hair. Looked like he hadn't combed it. Forever. A bristly beard grew wild. An open bottle of rum stood within reach. A glass lay smashed on the floor. His clothes looked like he hadn't changed them. I sniffed. Had to block my nose with my hand. Phew. How long since this guy had a bath. Or was there another cause for the smell. Did another problem have him drinking himself into a stupor.
The picture changed. Where was I, now. I was in a different room. A more dapper man paced a lounge room his clothes splattered with mud. No. Blood. The spots matched the ruby colour dripping from his hands. Was he hurt. Where did the blood come from. Wildness shone from his eyes. He rubbed a bloody hand through his hair. Was this, Billy. The man the voice called. A chill ran through my body. I didn't want to see any more. I rolled to a new position wanting the movie to stop. I hate watching gruesome movie scenes. Or every day murder scenes flash across the television.
No such luck. The film kept rolling.
The same man forefront in the next scenes to be played. So. I'm assuming. He is, Billy. I might be wrong with my assumptions. Or am I to be Billy in another life. Stupid. Can't be possible. Dead is dead. Stop it. Go back to the movie. Where was I. Oh. Yeah. I was. Hang on. I wasn't in the bedroom.
I looked around the room taking in the floral wallpaper on the walls. The pink lace curtains fluttering from the breeze coming through the open window. Birds sang in the trees in the garden. A rainbow of flowers grew in a well loved garden. Ah. A peaceful place. I can go to sleep.
“Hey. Wake up,” an unseen hand shook my shoulder.
“Can't you let me sleep,” I mumbled. A noise penetrated my dream. A car. The owner must be returning home. I must leave. I don't want to be caught snooping. One more glance around the room. My heart dropped toward my stomach churning up my emotions. Oh. What should I do. This feels wrong. Wrong. Ideas flashed by but nothing came for me to be able to change the future of all the players. Time can't be changed to suit my ideals of life.
Unaware of disaster, the couple making love in the bed were happy. Stolen moments of ecstasy. They frolicked beneath the sheet pleasuring each other with not a care of the repercussions their actions had on others. The sound of a car arriving didn't reach them. Or the opening and closing of a door. The creaking of the steps. The man didn't creep like an intruder. Or a burglar. Laughter came from behind the closed bedroom door. The happy face of the man turned to anger. His demeanour changed to that of a fierce warrior. Rational thought washed away in a tide of blood. Before he was able to stop the action he has a dagger in one hand. An ancient war axe in the other. He stormed into the bedroom. The axe sliced into the back of the man. Blood spurted. Soaked the sheet. His dead weight lay on the woman. She screamed on seeing the blood. She pushed back the sheet to wriggle from beneath her dead lover. There at the side of the bed stood an avenger with a dagger raised. A face. No longer that of her husband.
“Billy,” she said, moments before the dagger pierced her heart.
A tormented Billy surveyed what he'd done. Blood dripped from his hands. A wild animal scream echoed from the room frightening the birds in the trees. They exited the area in a hurry to search out a safer environment.
“Run. Run,” an insistent voice echoed in his head. “Danger. Incoming missile moving fast.” Stomping boots on the stairs had Billy exiting. His mind confused. What missiles. He wasn't writing a war story. A blood curdling scream reached his ears on his departure.
Her stomach curdled. She vomited on the steps while making her exit. Taking a deep breath of fresh air to settle her stomach. No breathing cleared the vision of the scene she'd witnessed before her escape. She pulled the phone from her pocket. With trembling fingers she pressed the numbers for the police.
“Terri Wise. My sister has been murdered.”
“Did you say, murdered?”
“Yes. She has a dagger in her chest. The other party has a war axe in his back.” She gave all the details then staggered to her car to sit to wait for the police to arrive.
“Bitch,” cursed the dapper man. “She'll pay for her interruption. The nosy bitch. Why did she pick today to visit with her sister.” His pacing moved faster the angry he became. His work there wasn't finished. He hadn't intended to kill. “Now. I have blood on my hands. How come I have the blood. I didn't intend to kill. I wasn't there to kill. Calm down. What's done can't be undone.” He made his way from the room to go upstairs to the bathroom. “I need to rid my body of all this blood.” He walked into the bathroom. The moment he looked in the mirror, a face appeared.
“Michael. What have you done? Why do you have blood on you?”
“Oh. Go away, Mother. Why don't you leave me alone?”
“I'm ashamed of you, son. I tried to beat the devil from your soul. But your fathers black heart was too strong in you. I tried to protect you.”
“You didn't do a great job. I have to live with this hell every day. You weren't here for me, today. Where were you, mother?”

“You know where I am, Michael. You killed me. Remember.”

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Herb's 80th Birthday trip

The following photos are what I took on a trip to help Herb celebrate his 80th Birthday. We had morning tea near Howard. Lunch at Brodies in Gympie. We took a back road through Tucan Forest to reach Maryborough where we stopped to have an icecream. Have been a bit slow adding photos because I have been busy with writing. Had to finish over 6,ooo words for a competition. Thought I had finished. Then I was sent a notice about have a piece of poetry for another comp. Plus re-writing work to put on the computer which I lost when the other one died.

Monday, July 29, 2013

Fog and Clouds

More shots of clouds. Some are take with a fog hiding the scene, and blocking out the morning sun.

Friday, July 26, 2013

Clouding Over.

Photos of clouds I took recently on a bus trip. I was busy clicking while the bus was in motion. Cloud patterns has been a feature in some of my recent photos. For some explainable reason I have become fascinated with them.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Sunshine Coast - Noosa

These were taken on our drive through the Sunshine Coast on the way home.