"A good writer will make you imagine, a great writer will make you believe."

K. Wilkinson in 2000? maybe, maybe from someone else earlier.

Screaming

They were screaming, screaming

As my eyes bled

They shouted and blamed me

Filling me with dread

They tormented and they hit me

I wished I were dead

They fought about me all the time

Said it was all in my head

The psychological nightmares

They wished to embed

Terrified me so much

I saw nothing but red

Walls melting like blood

Riding the red snow in my sled

I should have fled

Not been mislead

Broken that last thread

But if I ran, who would they torture in my stead?

When we loved

When we loved, we loved eternal

Forever and a day

When I smiled it was for you

Saying all that we couldn’t say

When we danced we touched the sky

Together in our loneliness

When the music stopped we stood alone

Returning to emptiness

Not a gesture, not a sign

Not a look across the room

What we had was silent

And the moment over too soon

When we spoke we spoke internal

And when we loved we loved eternal

"And the sweet serenity of silence was lost to them, they could never shut up long enough to appreciate it's mirth."

Ortence

“He really sees them you know, I know it doesn’t seem possible, but it’s true.”
“Rubbish.”
“The fly and they dance and they float on the wind. He says they are all different colours and when they dance together they stream rainbows behind them.”
“I’ve never heard such twaddle in all my years. Your brother is a liar plain and simple, now shut up and do your work.”
Tilly sighed and put her head down, staring at the book on her school desk. Her brother Ortence had been kicked out of class again, the truth of it all was the teacher just didn’t like him, he didn’t think Ortence belonged in his class or in the school. Tilly had once heard him remark to another teacher, that boy should be locked up. His name was Mr Glos, he believed in old school ways and was not adverse to wraping a student on the knuckles with his big wooden ruler. He had struck Ortence many times but it never crushed his spirit.
Tilly thought the main reason Mr Glos hated Ortence was because he couldn’t intimidate him with his deep and threatening voice.
She stared blankly at her workbook until the bell went and then she packed up her things, Mr Glos stopped her on her way out of the classroom.
“Tilethaba, Tell Ortence if he misbehaves again I’ll see him expelled, he listens to you.” Then he started laughing, “Listens ha!”
He continued laughing; Tilly left the room before her anger got the better of her. She found Ortence standing on a table in the playground with his arms outstretched pretending he could fly. She taped the table he was standing on and he stopped and smiled at her. They walked home together as they always did, Ortence trailing her slightly as he looked at everything around him.
He was older than her by a few minutes, but a whole head shorter. To look at him you would think he would still be in primary school, not in year 9 at high school. He was very bright, much smarter than Tilly, but she didn’t mind, she saw herself as his protector.
Every now and then she would glance back to make sure he was still behind her, every time she did he would always smile merrily up at her like he hadn’t a care in the world.
When they got home they put their bags on the floor near the front door.
“Bags in your rooms kids.”
It was their mother, Tilly didn’t know how she did it, it was like she had eyes in the back of her head, she nudged Ortence and they both put their bags away and got changed out of their school clothes.
“What happened at school today?” Their mother ask and they ate their after school sandwiches.
“Nothing really, Mr Gros picked on Ortence again.”
The woman sighed and sat down at the table next to Ortence, “that man! Why can’t he leave my boy alone? Doesn’t he recognise genius?”
Ortence patted her hand, “It is okay mother.”
She smiled and hugged him, “don’t you listen to any bad thing he says. No eat up and run along and play.”

Ortence and Tilly threw a ball back and forth for a while before they sat down and talked, being twins they shared a special bond no one else quite understood, except their mother, she seemed to know.
“Tell me.”
“I’ve already told you.”
“I know, but I want to hear it again, it all sounds so beautiful.”
Ortence smiled, “Okay, but I was right about other people wasn’t I, they just don’t believe.”
“Yes you were right, I am sorry. Now tell me just as you did before.”
“I see words, I see them float and sometimes fall out of people’s mouths and fly around. Some dance as if carried by music, the words of singers dance all the time, some fast, some slow, but they always dance. Some peoples words fall to the ground straight away and shatter on the floor, words said in anger do that, dark words. When people cry the words are blue and they trail down people like tears trail down faces. Happy words bounce and they are always bright colours. Loud words are big and they jump out of people’s mouths like they are exploding. Sometimes I sit in the playground at lunch time and watch all the happy different coloured words fly by me. They meet up with other words and make rainbows in the air that swirl around and it is beautiful. Sometimes they crash into people and explode like coloured fireworks, if they could make a sound I’m sure it would be a loud bang like cannon.
Late at night when the air is cold I sneak outside and talk to myself. I watch my words appear as the cold air hits them. My words are always white, I don’t know why. There is only one other person I know whose words do not change colour. Mr Glos, his words are always charcoal grey and they shatter a lot.”
Tilly had lied back on the grass and dreamily listened to him talk, now that he had finished he turned to look at her, envying her ability to do that.
“You make it sound so beautiful, I wish I could see it Orty.”
He smiled at her and shook his head, “No, you have something even better.”
She didn’t respond, she hated talking about better or worse.
“We are what we are,” Orty said, knowing she wasn’t going to say anything, “And do you know what I am?”
Tilly looked at him not knowing what he was talking about, “No, what?”
“I’m the better looking twin,” he said and laughed.
“Not for long!”
She grabbed hold of him and started tickling him, not stopping until their mother called them in for dinner.


Ortence and Tilly walked to school the next morning as they usually did, Tilly didn’t realise another boy was following them, but Ortence did.
“Tilly, Jake is behind us and gaining ground.”
Tilly looked over her shoulder, Ortence was just behind her and there not far behind him was Jake. He was a year ahead of Ortence and Tilly, he had never spoken to either of them before so Tilly shrugged and kept walking.
A little while later she heard a thud, she turned around to see Ortence on the ground. Jake was standing next to him
“Orty!”
She helped him up, his nose was bleeding.
“Why did you attack my brother?”
Jake was looking confused, “I didn’t.”
Ortence the moment he was standing had run off with his nose all bloody, Tilly didn’t notice until it was too late to run after him.
“Oh no!” She watched him run, he was so fast, “I’ll never catch him now, why did you do that?”
“I didn’t,” Jake repeated, “I walked up and touched his shoulder, you know, so he would know I was here and then he just faceplanted the road. It looked painful.”
Tilly looked at him not believing a word.
“I swear, I would never hurt him, I wanted to talk to him.”
“Why did you want to talk to him then?”
“I uh…” Jake turned kind of pale, “I wanted to know if he thought you would go out with me.”
Tilly stopped walking and stared at him, “seriously?”
He nodded, “Yes, I swear I wouldn’t of hurt him.”
Tilly didn’t say anything, she just kept staring at him.
“Will he come back? Come to school?”
That brought her out of her shock.
“No, he will play by the river, he will probably learn more there then he does at school anyway.”
They walked the rest of the way together, talking about what ever random thing they could think of, and by the time they reached the school they were both really enjoying each other’s company. By the end of the school day it was official that they were an item. Tilly hoped Ortence wouldn’t mind. She thought it would be a good thing; Jake would be able to look after him too.
After school she and Jake went looking for him.
“Are you sure he’s down here?”
“Yes, we just have to keep looking, he feels safe here, nothing loud can hurt him.”
“Or…” Jake started to shout but then stopped himself, “force of habit”
Tilly smiled at him, “I’ve been with him since birth so I never acquired that habit.”
They walked as they talked, looking in any hidey hole he might have crawled into.
“Is it difficult, having a deaf brother?”
“No, but then, I’ve never known life without one, and I’d never want to either.”
“No I, I didn’t mean anything.”
She smiled at him showing that she knew he hadn’t meant any harm.
“It’s all round the school you know, that thing he said about seeing words. Do you believe it?”
“Of course, it’s not like he can hear them, how else would he know exactly what we are saying?”
“He could lip read.”
“I thought that too once, and I said something when I was facing away from him. I think I called him a prat or something. He didn’t react right away, like it took time for him to see the word float by, but then he jumped up and said, I am not. How else do you explain that?”
“I can’t, he sounds pretty special.”
“He is.”
“I just hope he likes m…” Jake had been about to say me when he pushed a branch aside and could see the river bend.
Tilly looked at him wondering why he didn’t finish what he was saying, she saw him jump into the river, she ran to the spot he had been standing and saw what he had seen.
It was the body of a boy face down in the river, Jake had got to it and turned it over.
Tilly gasped, it was Ortence.
She could see right away that he was dead, Jake got him to shore and tried CPR, but he had been in the water for hours, there was nothing they could do.

At the funeral she cried and Jake held her hand. The music was beautiful, she knew Ortence would have loved it, he wouldn’t have heard it, but he would have seen the words dance.
As the mourners left the cemetery a rainbow appeared in the sky, but no one saw it, no one noticed it was there, but just maybe Ortence knew.

"It wasn't until the war was over and we stopped and looked round. That was when we realised there were no winners, only those that escaped by death and the living that continued to suffer their loss."
K. Wilkinson.

Column Clue

Running away

Eager to be free

Alone in the woods

Danger looming ever closer

Behind her just out of sight

Overlooked so often in the dark

Teeth bared in anticipation

Helpless she ran

Watching from the shadows

A monster rose up

Yearning to escape

She glanced behind

If you loved me.

“If you loved me, you'd forgive me.”

That's what she had said when he got up to leave, he was so shocked by her words that he turned and stared at her with an expression of total disbelief on his face. The shock left him standing there in the door frame speechless.
“If you loved me, you’d stay.”

“If I loved you, I’d stay?”
He still gawked at her in disbelief but at least he had found his voice enough to respond.

“If I loved you, I’d stay?” He repeated louder. “You slept with my brother,” he gasped, “In front of our son!”
The outrage and bitterness he felt was evident in his words as his tone got deeper and louder. It often did that when he was angry, but he had never known such infuriation before that moment.

“It was an error in judgement; I said I was sorry, isn’t that enough?”
He lowered his head and shook it slowly from side to side, but he never took his eyes off of her. There was no love in his eyes, he was filled with a deep seeded loathing for her that no amount of time would ever erase and he had never wanted to hurt someone as much as he wanted to hurt her at that moment.

“I just can’t see why you can’t get past this, it was a month ago.”
“Probably because my 6 year old only told me about it yesterday,” he said, raising his voice to emphasise the final word. “And… And my 6 year old!” He shouted, “Were you ever going to fucking tell me how much of a whore you really are?”
She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head idly as if it were just a regular argument they were having. She turned her back on him and walked into the lounge room, but they were still within earshot of each other, close enough for him to hear her mutter.

“Virgil is staying with me.”
Hatred filled his veins and his whole body stiffened, if she had been right in front of him he would have wrung her neck right then and there, but the room between them allowed him to calm himself ever so slightly. He walked out of the door into the backyard slamming the door hard behind him.

Vic walked into the back shed, it was his shed, his sanctuary from the torments of life and he would often retreat there after a fight with Emma. One corner of it was filled with a lawn mower and gardening supplies, a small almost empty bag of blood and bone in the garden section gave the shed quite a putrid smell that was strong enough to keep his wife out of the shed. Another corner had a worn down armchair in it and a little tv propped up on a milk crate with rabbit ear antenna sticking out of the back of the tv. The Rest of the shed consisted of a work bench and a vast array of tools. They were all in pristine condition, Vic loved his tools and cleaned them after every use, and some he had even buffed to give them that extra shine.

He shut the door to the outside world and slumped down miserably into the armchair. He stared at the blank screen of the tv knowing even that could not help him escape the nightmare that had become his life. He gazed beyond the tv to his tool collection glistening on the peg wall. He stood back up and walked over to them. He ran his hand horizontally over the wall letting it touch each tool; he paused longer on his favourite ones and stroked them lovingly. They would never betray him; they would do exactly what they were designed to do and nothing else.

“Nothing else…” a wicked half smile curled its way into his lips, “Unless I choose otherwise.”

He looked over his tools again, no longer with love and pride for them, instead he looked with purpose, fuelled by the hatred and anger that resided inside him waiting to escape.

He would not leave Emma, and she would not leave either but she would never hurt him again.

He looked at his chainsaw on the wall and then shook his head.
“No, that will wake Virgil,” his grin grew wider, “and it will be over too fast, she needs to feel my pain, she needs to suffer.”
He opened a draw beneath the workbench and took out a shifting spanner, duct tape and some needle nosed pliers. He put them in the back pocket of his jeans. He grabbed the black cable ties he kept in his tool box and put them in the front pocket of his jeans. They fell out and fell to the floor, Vic bent down to pick them up and spotted some weed killer he had tucked under the bench, the type that burns the weeds out, he grinned and while picking up the cable ties he picked that up too.
He walked to the door but before opening it he picked up a petrol soaked rag then he opened and exited the shed. It was bordering on twilight, he knew she would be sitting in front of the television watching some stupid soap opera; it seemed to be all she ever did, that and screw around while his son was forced to watch.
He clenched his fist thinking about it, a combination of confusion and anger at the thought.

He walked softly back into the house, he had no idea if she had heard him enter, either way it didn’t matter, he knew she would never be leaving the house alive, never.

He walked into the lounge room, she never even glanced at him, if she had she might have ducked, but she never saw his fist punch her in the side of the head, she felt it though in the half second before she lost consciousness.

When she woke, she woke dizzy, her head still spinning from the punch. She was in the kitchen, she tried to move but she couldn’t, it was at that point that she realised she was tied to a chair, whatever bound her was cutting into her wrists and the base of her legs. She couldn’t see the cable ties but she guessed that they were what was binding her.
She looked around, she could tell it was night time by the darkness she saw out the window, but she had no idea of the time or how long she had been unconscious. The table was missing from the kitchen but all the chairs were still there, one of them had a stereo propped up on it. She did not understand the gravity of her situation, if she had she would have attempted to escape, instead she called out.
“Vic? Vic this isn’t funny, come here and untie me.”

She heard the tv set being turned off in the lounge room, Vic walked into the kitchen and Virgil scampered along behind him.

“Vic, untie me at once or I’m calling the police, this is illegal.”
Vic ignored her, he picked up Virgil and sat him down on the chair to the side of and facing Emma.
“Now you pay attention boy, this is what we do to women who betray us.”

Virgil sat there smiling away, the youthful innocence in his eyes as he watched his mummy and daddy.
Vic turned to the stereo and pushed the play button, music started pounding out of it so loud that it made Emma’s head ache.
“This is not funny Vic,” she shouted over the noise of the stereo, but Vic payed no attention to her words, he was deaf to them now. He went round behind her and pushed her chair forward so that Virgil could see what he was doing, then, taking his needle nose pliers out of his pocket, he gripped the nail of her pinkie finger on her left hand and yanked it out. She screamed out in pain, and then started shouting at him.
“Vic, they’ll throw you in jail and melt the key you son of a…”

Vic had forced his petrol rag into her mouth and then duct taped it to stay there.
“No swearing in front of the boy.”
He bent back down to her hands and grabbed hold of another nail, pulling it just as hard, ripping it from her finger. She couldn’t scream with the gag in place be he could tell she was feeling it; the whole chair shook with her pain. He kept going one by one, pausing between each so that she could feel the individual pain of each one.
When he ran out of finger nails he gave the pliers to Virgil.
“Do you want to do the toes son?”
Virgil looked down at the pliers and then nodded. Vic swung the chair around so that she was facing them, he took her slippers off and then stepped aside.
Virgil sat on the ground in front of her with the pliers and then put it on one of her toes and pulled. Compared to the pain she had just felt she barely even registered what he had done. Virgil looked up to his dad confused.
“You’re not strong enough boy, here, daddy will help you.”

Vic put his hand around Virgil’s and pushed tight on the pliers making them grip and then both father and son pulled on them and the nail came out.
Virgil looked up at Emma, “This is fun mummy.”

She had tears in her eyes from the pain and from seeing what her husband was making her son do.
“Let’s do the rest boy.”
Virgil nodded and they went on just as Vic had done with her fingers until they ran out of nails. Vic put the pliers back in his pocket and pulled out his shifting spanner.
“Now watch daddy Virgil.”
He spun the mechanism until it opened enough to slide it onto her toe over the bone joint and then he slowly wound it back. He could see Emma shaking as it got tighter and tighter, unlike the quick sharp pain of losing a nail, this was prolonged agony. He grinned evilly and kept tightening the shifter. It got quite hard the tighter he make it but then he heard the sound he was waiting for, it sounded like bubble wrap popping but he knew it was the bone snapping.

“Did you hear the pop Virgil?”
The boy nodded.
“Listen closely for the next pop.”
He moved the shifter to the next toe and slowly tightened it. Virgil put his head closer to listen to the snapping of the bone. Vic patted him on the head, proud of his boy.
“I heard it, I heard the pop daddy.”

“Good boy.”
Vic smiled and moved the shifter to the next toe, as with the nails he moved from toe to toe breaking each joint before doing the same to each of her fingers only two fold. By the time he had finished she was nearly unconscious from all the pain she had endured.
“Go to bed Virgil. Say good night to your mother.”
“Night daddy, night mummy,” Virgil walked off to his room and put himself to bed.
Vic ripped the duct tape from Emma’s mouth and removed the petrol soaked rag.
“You’ll never get away with this, I’ll tell,” she gasped.

“No you won’t”

He put his hands around her neck and squeezed, he stared her straight in the eyes and he choked the life from her. Filled with fear and panic when he started they soon drained to become dead eyes, only then did he release his grip on her throat.

Virgil woke the next morning and walked into the kitchen, it looked as it always did, it was as if the previous night had never happened, but instead of Emma cooking breakfast, Vic was standing by the stove cooking.

“Where’s mummy?”
“Mummy’s gone away, just you and me now boy, but we’ll take care of each other and punish any that try to hurt us.”

Vic put a plate of food on the table and Virgil jumped up and sat down.
“Okay daddy,” he said and started eating his breakfast.

Fantasies of Homicide

 In my mind I have imagined it a million times, there are so many ways to go about murdering someone that it becomes very hard to choose just one and alas you can only kill one person the once. Unless of course you revive them, but there will be no revival here.

I’ve thought of suffocation with a pillow, but that would be over too quickly and I want my victim to suffer.
Victim, funny word, I have been the living victim all my life and now I turn the table and crush his bones to dust. First I think a paralysing drug, making him immobile but conscious of every little thing. I will leave him like that for days, rotting in his filth while I force feed him disgusting foods from dirty dishes. I will also have head phones on him playing lady gaga at full volume on repeat. After that the real torture would begin.

I will surround him with mirrors and sew his eyelids open, can’t have him missing the show now can I?
Fingernails first I think, they pull out so easily and cause excruciating pain. I will pull out all his hair, one piece at a time. I will cut of sections of skin, not digging my blade in deep enough to hurt, but just enough to get the skin and make him feel it. I will break all his fingers and toes with a claw hammer. I will put his hands and feet in buckets of bleach until they are almost only bone, then I will cut off his fingers and toes. I will also have a recording of his voice playing in the background so he can feel belittled by himself. I would try to prolong his life as much as possible so that he could be tortured for longer, he should endure as much pain as possible before he dies.
And then… 
Who am I kidding, when I kill him I will be in a rage of power and excitement, I’ll probably cut the bastards head off immediately and regret my impatience later.