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.
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.”