Hellsing and the Choir - Part I

I've decided to experiment with something new, so I'm working on a somewhat longer story than usual which will be delivered in parts. Mostly its pulp detective, but I always have a tendency to include supernatural or surrealism whether I want to or not so I decided I'd just go all out on this one.

Michael Gabby Hellsing, for obvious reasons usually I go by my profession, Detective Hacker. Tonight though I wasn't meant to be working. Tonight was my night off. The office was locked up, and I'd spent the last four hours in the bar. This made the light shining out from my office window on the third floor somewhat concerning as I walked past. I had my head tilted back at the time, checking if the clouds were clearing and the rain might stop, otherwise I might not have noticed. This could be a problem. My partner wouldn't be in the office after hours, which only left a few options. It could be a very enthusiastic client, the police, or the mob. Either way with the state my head was in right then, none of the three would be good.

I muttered a few choice curses about the rain, pulled my hat lower over my eyes for what little protection it was offered, took out my cigarette case and tapped it on my hand a few times while I waited for thoughts to adventure across the drunken haze that filled my head. I was paid up with the pigs, so they should've at least done me the decency of a phone call or something first. Sure I hadn't been in the office for four hours but they all knew my favourite haunt, and Detective Gregori had a list of all the places I could be found on any day. The list wasn't very long, consisting of the bar which went by the label of Sanctuary, my office, or my bed. That ruled out the legal option. I hadn't done anything to annoy the mob recently, not taken out any of their boys or anything, in fact all I'd done recently was sit for the last two months glaring at the phone, commanding it to ring. I had almost considered going back to my old agency and asking for a job, but that was never gonna happen.

That left a client, a very enthusiastic client. Somehow that didn't seem particularly likely. I grunted and lit a cigarette, crossing the street and leaning back against a wall so I could watch the office from the shadows. I don't know how long it took, I usually don't wear a watch and the clouds were hiding any daylight, but after I'd nearly finished what was left of my cigarettes I got bored and started walking towards the office again. As I walked I reached under my coat, lovely thing it was, long ankle-length leather lined with supple, light chain-mail, and pulled free Bertha. I didn't usually wear Bertha but whenever business gets quiet I get paranoid, so Betsy, my usual gun, was locked up in the office safe and Bertha was keeping me company.

I held the heavy revolver left handed as I tried the building door. Unlocked. Great. Maybe it was just some crook ransacking my offices along with everyone else's. Somehow I didn't think it was likely. I stepped inside, hit the call button for the elevator as I headed to the stairs and started to climb them. By the time I reached the third floor I was out of breath and ready to just let whoever it was have whatever they wanted. I checked Bertha was loaded, all eight chambers filled with a nasty suprise for whoever was in my office, and slipped quietly along the corridor. I could see the light glowing through the glass in my door, and the door slightly ajar. Inside I could hear the noise of someone moving around, a smashing sound as they knocked something over and a very gentlemanly 'Bother this'.

I stepped to the door and pushed it slowly open, my lovely lady Bertha ready for almost anything.

Apparently though, not for absolutely anything. I blasphemed quietly to myself as the tall, white-winged, haloed figure turned around and smiled a beatific smile upon me. "Mr Hellsing, I do believe we may have a case for you."

I lowered my gun, walked over to my desk and grabbed the whiskey sitting there. It was going to be a long night.

Work in Progress

There are a couple of projects I'm currently working on, but at the moment things are just a little hectic. The stories will be up to make up lost time shortly after Christmas when I have some breathing space.

Red Riding Hood

An old story, of a sort. This is a re-interpretation of mine of one of the supposed original tales of Red Riding Hood.

Red Riding Hood was a young woman in a small village of woodsmen. She was a mischevious, disobedient girl who was constantly being told that her ways would get her into trouble. Her grandmother was an old lady, and thus lived in a small cottage deep in the woods. Some folk of the village even muttered that her grandmother was a witch.

It happened that Red Riding Hood's grandmother fell ill and was bedridden. No one knew of this until a small sparrow came to Red Riding Hood and told her. Red Riding Hood of course knew better than any small bird, and brushed away the sparrow. She was busy being the centre of attention of a group of young village men.

And so the bird flew off, and flew to Red Riding Hood's mother and told her. Furious with her daughter Red Riding Hood's mother packed a basket of food and set out in search of her daughter. She found her under a bridge, kissing one of the villaage boys, with her hooded cape on the ground beneath them.

She drew out the slim willow branch (in those days all mothers of disobedient children would carry one) and struck her daughter across her legs. "Filthy disobedient pig!" she said to her daughter. "Your grandmother lies ill, go to her at once before I beat you black and blue."

Sniffing, Red Riding Hood put on her cape and took up the basket before walking into the forest towards her grandmother's house.

In the forest also lived an evil beast, the wolf, who loved nothing more than destruction and corruption. He had been watching Red Riding Hood for some time, and now saw his chance. As she entered the forest he stood before her, smiling at her.

"Well hello there. And where is a beautiful girl like you off to today?" he asked.

Red Riding Hood blushed as bright as her cape and said to the wolf (completely forgetting all the warnings she had been given about not talking to the wolf) "I am going to take this food to my grandmother. See, some bread and cheese, all we can spare."

Hearing this the wolf laughed inside, for he knew the way to the grandmother's house well. "Look at those flowers" he said "I'm sure your grandmother would love a bunch of those."

"Alright," said Red Riding Hood, rather grumpily as she didn't want to waste time, "I'll pick her some."

The wolf licked his lips as he watched her young form bend to pick the flowers. Then, quick as a flash, he ran off through the woods to the grandmother's house.

The sparrow had been watching this and followed the wolf, sure he must be up to evil. It was right in thinking so, for when the wolf got to the grandmother's house he called out in Red Riding Hood's voice "Oh grandmother, I have brought a basket of food for you. Please let me in."

The grandmother called back in her old, croaky voice "Come in my dear grandaughter. Warm yourself by the fire. The door is unbarred."

Quick as lightning the wolf burst through the door and killed the old woman. Then he cut out her thigh and carved it, leaving the cuts of meat on the side like ham. An empty bottle was lying on the side, and he filled it with her blood, then ate the rest of her himself before throwing her bones onto the fire. He took her clothes, blew out the candle by the side of the bed, dressed himself in her clothes and climbed into the bed. No sooner had he finished than Red Riding Hood knocked at the door.

"Come in my dear grandaughter" called the wolf in the grandmother's voice, "and warm yourself by the fire."

In came Red Riding Hood in her red cape, a bunch of flowers in one hand and the basket of food in the other, her clothes muddy and dirty from picking the flowers. The wolf stared at her as she came in, but with only the dim light from the fireplace Red Riding Hood could only just make out her grandmother's clothes and not see the wolf inside them.

"I've brought you some food grandmother." said Red Riding Hood.

"Thank you dear, but I've just eaten. There's some ham left there. You must be hungry. Have some." said the wolf in the old woman's voice.

Red Riding Hood was hungry from her walk, so she sat at the table in the cottage and sliced some bread before putting on it a slice of cheese and some of the meat the wolf had offered. As she was about to take her first bite the sparrow, unable to bear any more without saying anything, burst out "Filthy girl, eating the meat of your grandmother, shame on you!"

But Red Riding Hood was very hungry, and considered the sparrow a foolish little bird, and she bit deeply into the bread, cheese and meat, and finished off the platter with the sparrow crying out its warning outside the cottage.

"You must be thirsty my dear," said the wolf, "have some of the wine that's left in that bottle."

Red Riding Hood took the bottle and poured herself a glass of wine. As she lifted it to take the first sip the sparrow cried out again "Depraved child, don't you see what you're doing? Drinking the life-blood of your family!"

And now the meat and wine had made Red Riding Hood sleepy, and she yawned. The wolf grinned an evil grin as it said its next words, and its impression of the grandmother slipped a little as it spoke. "My dear, you sound tired. Why don't you climb into bed with me?"

Red Riding Hood nodded, yawning again, and started to move over to the bed.

"Oh my dear girl, you can't climb into bed in those filthy clothes. Take off that muddy cape of those or you'll make the bed dirty." said the wolf.

Red Riding hood unfastened her cape and let it drop on the floor. "Where shall I put it?" she asked the wolf.

"Throw it on the fire my dear" said the wolf, and she took the cape and threw it onto the fire where it burned away.

"You should take off your shoes dear." said the wolf.

She slipped off her shoes and looked around for somewhere to put them. The wolf's voice was slipping a lot now, almost back to its smooth growl. "Throw them onto the fire dear, you won't need them again."

The shoes followed the cape onto the fire, burning away in the hot, greedy flames.

"Now your dress dear." said the wolf, entirely in its own voice now "Throw that on the fire too, you won't need it again."

Outside the sparrow wept as it watched Red Riding Hood strip off her dress and stand naked and shivering while her red dress burned away on the fire.

"Now you can get into bed, my dear" said the wolf "and warm yourself up next to me, and sleep."

So Red Riding Hood climbed into bed with the wolf, and curled up next to its thick fur, and lay with the wolf.

Nowhere Man

Here we go, today's one is fairly short since I'm now zipping off for a suit fitting. At least its early in the day for once.

It could have been days, weeks, centuries. It would be impossible to tell. Time tended to be rather meaningless in the mists that surrounded and filled Limbo. What he did know was that he had been there a long time, and that he had been betrayed by being left there. Betrayed by someone he had loved and trusted, in a way betrayed by himself. If only he could remember his name.

The mists started to clear ahead of him and his memories began to crawl back. Memories of his conception at His own hands, violent and brutal actions that destroyed the trust between a loving couple. He could no longer remember why He had thought it would be a good idea to bring Himself into the world, but assumed He must have had a good reason.

Memories of a life filled with little but hardship and pain, a futile struggle against the hatred and darkness spanning the Earth, ending with His son's, and His own death at the hands of His enemies.

He started to remember more, ever more, His mind filling, bursting with memories, yet still they flooded into Him until he did remember.

The mists clear around Him now he sank to his knees and looked up at the grey infinite plain of limbo. He reached out with His mind and touched the Earth. He felt the chaos of life there, the manic unthinking hatred, the violence done in His name and His mind recoiled. Then He remembered why.

Jehovah stood, turned, and fled once more into the forgetful mists.

Proactive Karma Enforcer

Just felt like posting a second one up today, so here you go. Hope you enjoy.

No matter what you may hear people say life is actually fair, we're the ones who make sure. Called angels and demons once, we're not quite what you think. We're not too sides constantly at war, in fact we're all the same. Not that we all look identical or anything stupid like that, I just mean we're all employed by the same company.

Yep, we've gone corporate. We are actually all human, just recruited by PKE Inc to help keep the cosmic balance of fairness, possibly one of the greatest conspiracies in existence.

The company has massive resources, and has been running for the last two thousand years. Technically I suppose its the oldest company in existence, but really its kind of odd how the setup went. You've all heard about the son of God and all of that, right? He's our CEO. Has been for the last two thousand years. Whether or not all of the crap that the various religions say about him is true is something he refuses to reveal, just smiles an odd little smile.

I was gonna discuss the type of thing we do, so here goes. The other day I was out on assignment. Used to be we had to try and monitor everyone manually, so thank god for CCTV cameras and modern technology. With satellite stuff we rarely miss a sin or a good deed any more, although occasionally we do, that's when life does seem unfair to people. Sorry about that, we do our best.

And to be fair our best is bloody good, better than any of you could do I'm sure. The other day for example, when I was out on this assignment, it was because of some punk kid who had keyed someone's car. Now keying a car's only a minor thing, so I had to weigh things up, come up with a suitable balancing event, and then arrange it. I figured tripping up would be fair, so had to arrange things just right that he'd fall over at a mildly embarassing time.

One of our biodegradable trip-loops (tm) did it. Just walked ahead of him, dropped the loop, and waited for him to put his foot in it. Splat. There are times I love this job.

Forgotten

Was thinking about this one earlier in the week when I was getting ready to fly, seemed appropriate after nearly missing my flight due to being overlooked while asleep in the departures lounge.

"I'm sorry sir, but we don't have you listed in our records."

"Well look again, look, I've told you my card number, name, everything else. I'm holding the credit card in front of me. I must be listed."

"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid there's no one with those details in our database."

I hung up. It'd been like this all day, hell, it'd been like this most of my life. I seemed to be complete forgettable to everyone. Except that it'd never happened with machinery before.

My parents even, they no longer knew I existed. They'd forgotten on my fifteenth birthday. It'd taken half an hour for me to convince them I wasn't a stranger in their house, but was actually their son. Gradually it got worse, until eventually it was easier just to avoid them than it was to talk to them. It wasn't like they ever noticed me, and if they did I just needed to step out of sight for a minute for them to forget.

Same at school, eventually I just stopped going. My name was on the register, I checked a few times, but the teacher just skipped straight past it.

Of course, its had advantages at times. I can grab something from a shop and walk out, and no one even realises once I'm out of sight of the pursuit. Lucky too, because its fucking impossible to get a job like this. But this is still the first time machinery's screwed up and forgotten me as well.

I walk through the town, looking around. Of course no one returns my gaze, no one sees me even, just automatically steps around me. I try just shoving someone, out of curiousity, but they don't even seem to notice. They stumble and fall, but that's it, they look around, stand back up and gather their things together.

I'm starting to panic again. I search my pockets for the one thing that reminds me I exist, stupid though it may seem. A passport, mine, from seventeen years ago when I was twelve and went to France with my parents.

There it is, in my pocket as always. I take it out, relieved, and look at it before I realise something I've never realised before.

I can't read the name on it, my eyes just skip past it.

The Tube

Standing on the tube during rush hour, she presses tightly up against me, all of us pressed together and crowded round so that no one can really move as the train rocks along its path. I lean down a little to put my head next to her ear, whispering quietly to her, trying to keep her calm and distracted since the press is making me panic a little, and I'm not crushed amongst people's chests.

I squeeze my hands free of the bodies pressing around me, managing to move them to rest on her hips. She looks up at me, slightly nervous, although I can't really tell why. Still, that slight nervousness gives me an idea.

Carefully I move my hand round to her stomach, resting it as gently as possible in the crowd, and then slip it down into the waistband of her trousers. No one around us has any idea as I slide my fingers down, stroking the soft warmth of her, slipping my hand inside her satin panties until I find what I'm after. I pinch her clit between two of my fingers, pushing it free of its protective folds of skin, and begin to stroke it.

Her knees buckle slightly, and she moans, but over the sound of the train and with the press of people around us no one hears and she cannot fall as I continue to stroke her. Occasionally I check lower, to see if she's wet enough, and when she is I slide a finger inside her, then another, twisting my wrist awkwardly to pump them in and out of her.

An announcement comes over the speakers saying that ours is the next stop. As the train slows I free my hand, raising it to my mouth and licking it clean of the glistening liquids.

Exodus

Another piece of science fiction, old work again. I'm posting early since I'll be away on Saturday. Hope you enjoy this one.

Its coming you know, whether you ants down there will believe us or not. Soon we'll leave you. Oh, how you will scurry then, without your perfect, genius leaders to guide you. You'll have to learn to lead yourselves, to work with one another, or you can perish. Frankly we don't much care, you were never more than a game for us anyway.

Millenia we've been watching you, shaping you, guiding you into an amusing toy. To be honest I doubt you'll survive, and I very much doubt you'll realise what the Exodus is when it comes. Only a few years left, then I can out of this hole that you're so obsessed with, this physical reality you enjoy so much.

Oh how much fun we've had with you, and you never knew. You never had any idea how much of your lives we controlled, from the minute to the massive. We could control your thoughts when we chose, although that made the game too easy, it was almost cheating. Much more fun was to twist events around you, manupulate individuals, towns, countries to do what we wanted you to do. And you never knew.

So many wars, and as you developed new toys we found we could enjoy it even more. You came up with so many ideas, all on your own, you even came up with rules of war. What you didn't realise is that everything you do is a war, we pitch you up against each other constantly, not just countries. Every argument you have, every close call as you pull out of a drive-way, every time one of you dies in an accident, its us playing our games, and we've so enjoyed it.

Anyway, most of the others have left now. You've grown boring. Only a few of us remain before the final Exodus, when we'll go else where for a new game. I think though that before we go, one last little play. I've always wanted to see if you really do have the capacity for complete self-destruction.

Best of luck, if you survive we might even see you up here with us one day.

Project

We are alone in the universe.

This was confirmed over two hundred years ago, we are on our own, there is nothing else out there. At some point in the past some disaster wiped the entire universe clean, we are the only spark of life left. No one knows how we survived, only that we were the only life that did.

You're wondering how it was all discovered? How we finally answered the question? Simple. With the development of the superstate computer almost all questions with a limited number of variables could be solved. The universe's mysteries were answered. And so we asked about the probability of life occuring anywhere in the universe throughout a time scale.

The machine chugged away, running its program, gathering data. Because of its strange nature it could effectively gather data from anywhere, at any distance. And we got our answer.

Before the deadzone the universe had a 100% probability of containing life, the stars would have been teeming with peoples. Now though, and for the last six billion years, there was no chance for the existence of life. We shouldn't exist ourselves, and it couldn't explain that. The best it could come up with was that somehow the deadzone had been prevented from reaching us.

We've been working on the Project now for over a century, ever since the idea was first proposed and realised. It ties together so many disciplines, cold-sleep, space travel, faster than light travel, genetics, enviroment studies, just about any scientific study is somehow included in it. Its nearly finished, in fact today is going to be Launch day.

There's an artificial island now between Europe and America, the Project platform. Its about the size of England. This has been the home for the Project for the last half-century, as its neared completion. Forty million people have been working on this, being replaced as old age makes them useless. The entire world has been supporting the Project, and it is finally finished.

"For the last one hundred and sixty two years this has been worked on, and today is the final day. Beneath me on this massive structure, stretching down to only a few hundred metres above the base of the sea, are the coldsleep chambers. Over the next few years every single human who wishes to see the final end of the Project will come here, and be entered into coldsleep until we receive signals from the probes."

"However, before the coldsleep chambers will be opened, the launch will have to take place. When man stepped on the moon, a third of the world watched it. Now we have almost every single human alive watching this event."

The speaker paused for a moment, dramatically, as it engaged the trigger that would begin the launch. The massive machine that had picked up on the human despair that followed its announcement, and had found a solution. The great machine that had made the Project possible, that had founded and led it.

The launch began. Above the island pin-pricks of darkness opened, opened wider, until each of the millions was several feet across. And the probes began to rise from the sea around us, each one picking its target and flying towards that particular wormhole. Each one carefully avoiding collisions with the others in a perfectly orchestrated dance. As the slipped through wormholes, the hole would slam shut and another would open in its place, another probe slipping through. The process would go on for hours.

Each probe carried genetic material, carefully engineered bacteria, each slightly different, each designed to replicate and evolve. Each one was heading towards a potential life-bearing planet, ready to seed it and spread. When the life reached a certain point, the probes would notify the machine, which would decide how to react. Whether to wake the sleeping mass of humanity, or let them rest further, to see their 'children' fully grown rather than as toddlers.

I turned my back on the display. It was magnificent, but I had already decided that I did not want to see the final end of the project. Most would enter coldsleep of course, but this had been the aim of my entire life, and it was over. I would be quite happy to live out the rest of my days with the others who stayed behind, listening, watching, and carefully monitoring as our children spread throughout the universe. One day to return home with the lessons they'd learned.

We have laid the seeds now, and we hope you, those who chose sleep, will thank us for watching over you.

Emergence

I've always had a fascination with oral telling of stories, and this was originally written as more of a script than an actual short story. Because I intended it to be told sitting around a campfire each night, with the teller in costume and the 'kid' mentioned matching, and others simply sitting around it is broken up into several parts.

You probably don't even know what an Emergence is, do you? I remember when they were still happening, when it was still novel, before everyone forgot and we shipped them all off. We never did get to the bottom of them, never managed to puzzle it out. Then again no one really bothered, they were an embarassment more than anything. No one, absolutely no one, wanted them except themselves and a few comic book fans. They were a disaster.

Bah. Listen to me ramble on, sorry about that. Now what was it I was talking about?

Oh yes, Emergence. Well then, lets go.

I was actually there for the first Emergence. I was six at the time, yes, I know that makes it seem a very long time ago. I suppose it was a very long time ago actually, since I'm over a hundred now. What's that? How old am I? That's not a particularly polite question to ask. I'm one hundred and sixty-two, if that makes you happy.

Anyway, the first Emergence. People didn't live as long then, we hadn't wiped out the common cold, and AIDs was still a threat rather than an annoyance. They even had these things they called health scares, all long before nanos were developed. I suppose they were actually developing at the time, but it was before they were released anyway. A good fifty years before in fact.

Right then, sorry I keep drifting off the topic. The first Emergence then, at least the first officially recognised Emergence. I saw it happen, I was actually in the bank where it happened. Hell, I was the first one saved by it.

Now what happened was this, I was in the bank with my parents.

Yes, parents you know. You must've been taught about them. It was when we still had men and women, and just men and women, and they actually reproduced together by exchanging genetic code.

Yes I know people still do that, but trust me, its not the same.

Anyway we were in the bank all together, and in came a half-dozen crooks. Dozen, it means twelve, and a half-dozen is six. They came in, and they looked perfectly normal at first. Then they pulled various guns out of these carrier bags they had and held up the place.

Oh for God's sake. Guns, you must've seen them in a museum or something, under that safety glass to keep the nanos from digesting them for resources. They used to shoot bits of metal at high speed, designed to hurt people.

You know what, I'm getting tired of this. Come back tomorrow.



Ah, okay, you're back then. I'm actually quite suprised. Where were we yesterday?

Yep, that was it. The bank. Its a building, big concrete building, used to hold money. Money was used to trade for stuff, kind of like bytes are now, except then it was solid and banks used to keep it in a safe. They used to trade it for solid stuff too, not just info-space or resources. Actual goods, books, things like that.

You know what a book is? I'm impressed.

No, no, that's not what books used to be. They used to have lots of pages, not just one, and it was permanently fixed. Forget it, we'll come back to that later.

So I was in this bank with my parents and these guys came in with their guns to hold up the bank. A hold-ups a bit like someone trying to swipe some of your info-space without a trade, like someone walking off with a kilo of resources, except they used to threaten people to do it. You could still kill people then, its kinda like someone going dormant and not coming back out.

And they took a hostage, that's someone that they're threatening to kill if they don't get the money they want. Then they put a gun to his head, and pulled the trigger.

And this was the amazing bit, this was the moment of the first Emergence, which we should have recognised for the disaster it was. He didn't die. The gun didn't blow his head off. He wasn't even kneeling there any more. By the time the crook had pulled the trigger, he was already standing behind him, with an arm locked round his throat. The bullet went stray and hit one of the others in the arm, not that any of us cared, we were watching the first of the heroes take apart the crooks.

You know its been said that a lot of legends might have come from periods of Emergence. We don't know what caused it, but a lot of legends of gods and myths of heroes match up with what actually happens.

Head off home kid, and leave that kilo here. I've got a few mods I want to make and you ain't getting this tale for nothing. See you tomorrow.



Welcome back kid. Getting to be a regular thing. Right then, shall we get on?

So there was this hero who saved us all, could move incredibly fast or something. I mean we're talking faster than a sprinter here, so fast you could barely see. Eyes were more limited then, now it wouldn't be a problem. He took all of the guns away, knocked out the crooks, and that was it. The first Emergence.

Of course the media were all over it, the guy was a celebrity overnight. That's where we screwed up.

See celebrities now aren't the same as they used to be. It didn't used to be all self-promotion and building yourself up, telling people about you. Instead there were people whose jobs were just to find out information about these people, and when the Emergences started there got to be people who had to find out all about the heroes.

At first it wasn't so bad. There were only a few of them, and they kept fairly quiet, the press couldn't get at them. By the time of the hundredth Emergence though it was over the top, they got no privacy. Imagine someone cracking your security coding and watching you constantly, reporting to everyone exactly what you're doing. Yeah, I see that gets you. That's pretty much what these people had to go through.

And you can imagine what it did to them. They started to get angry. The original celebrities were a bit like they are now, they were the type who liked the attention, but those who went through Emergence were just average people. Good people with a sense of justice in most cases, but basically just people.

The first murder happened. A sniper took out Zip while he was just walking down the street, and the whole thing came crashing down. Zip? He was the one who'd saved us in the bank, that first one. The sniper was caught.

Oh, a sniper is someone who uses a gun over a very long distance. Or that'll do for now anyway.

I'm actually nearly crying from this, I remember exactly how it all went wrong. That murder was the first of many, it was put down to various things, jealousy, personal reasons, all sorts of different things. I think jealousy was the main one, if these Emergences got to be special then why couldn't everyone?

Eventually there were only a handful left alive. Sure, they were powerful, they were amazing, they were heroes. But there had only ever been a few hundred of them and there were six billion average humans. They went on the rampage, they fought back against the people who wanted them to be just your average joe and part of the crowd.

The death toll was never really counted, but we won in the end. I killed two of them myself in fact. We lost a lot I'll admit, but we got rid of them, and we thought the world would go back to normal.

And then someone released the nanos. But you know about that one.

A Nice Game of Scrabble

Today's story is going to be a little different. End of the month erotica or something, I don't know, you lot can think of a name for me to use. Anyway, most Saturdays will have standard stories, but the last Saturday of each month I plan to put up something a little racier.

Hope you all enjoy it, or stop reading if you're underage, and as always give me feedback. I love feedback.

The three friends sat around the table, the remnants of a meal spread before them. The evening had been pleasant, suprisingly so as it had been an attempt to get Jayne, the eldest of the three in her late twenties, to get out of the house after her divorce. She had been married for two years before the divorce had come suddenly out of the blue three months ago, and now her husband had run off with some seventeen year old slut. Until today she had not wanted to leave the house, but Jill had been so insistent about her coming to have dinner with her, and meet her new love, that she had finally relented. She had thought that seeing a couple in the first throes of their new love, with public displays of affection and constant gushing about how happy they were would have made her want to slit her wrists, but in fact both had been very restrained.

She looked down at her glass, and reached out to pour herself some more wine. Jill reached out at the same time for the wine and their hands brushed before Jill withdrew her hand, blushing slightly. Jayne smiled knowingly. Tom may or may not have known about her and Jill's history, but even today there was a slight sexual tension about them. No. Sexual tension was the wrong word. A comfort perhaps, a sense of knowing someone that could only come about after having been truly intimate with them, having seen them at their most exposed, completely trusting you to bring them pleasure and enjoyment, and doing the same yourself. She shook her head quickly, no time for remembering that now, Jill was happy with Tom and she herself was recently divorced. She was just here to enjoy a quiet evening with friends. She poured herself a generous glass of the sweet white wine, spilling a little as her hands shook, and took a sip. Unnoticed by her Jill glanced at Tom, and winked.

Jayne considered the two of them for a while as the post-dinner conversation continued, aided by a small selection of exquisite chocolates. She concluded that Tom was attractive, in a soft, mild-mannered way. He had a very slight curve of a stomach and was of a stong build, but his muscles were not clearly defined, at least they were not obvious under the tuxedo he wore. There was little fat on his body, but enough to soften his features slightly and give him a slightly cheeky look when he grinned, which he did often. His hair was shoulder-length, and he had let it down from a tight pony-tail when they finished eating, letting it fall in smooth black waves over his broad shoulders. She knew he was only a year younger than himself but something about his eyes was young, nearly boyish. Not a naïve innocence, but an enjoyment of adventure and new experiences.

Jill had changed a lot since she had last met her, during their time together at university. They had stayed in touch after them, their passionate relationship gradually changing into an intimate friendship, but this was the first time in the five years since then that they had met. The scrawny, boyish girl that she had known was gone. What remained could not be described as beautiful, she lacked the elegance for that, but gorgeous seemed a more fitting word. The skinny lines of her body had filled out, giving her a figure best described as voluptuous, or unkindly as plump. The hair that she had been so proud of had been cut short, and dyed from its normal blonde into a bright, vibrant red, highlighting her bright green eyes. She was wearing a green dress, low-cut to reveal a generous cleavage and hugging her curves each time she breathed.

Jayne thought about herself, comparing with the two of them. She was tall and willowy, she knew, probably an inch or so taller than Tom and with a good foot on Jill. She had chosen to wear a black dress tonight, deciding that if she was going to be coerced into leaving her sanctuary that she would make the most of it. The dress was tight, of some stretchy material which pulled and moved each time she walked. She allowed herself a slight smile as she remembered the occasional admiring glances that the other two had surreptitiously thrown at her, and knew that she deserved them. Her legs were a little too long for the dress, or the dress was a little too short, and when she sat rose to reveal that she was wearing tights rather than stockings. Her own hair was still long and chestnut brown, she had not cut it since University and it now reached down to tickle along the small of her back when she sat, and lower when she stood.

She blinked, shaking herself from her thoughts as she realised that Jill had just asked her something. “Sorry, what was that?”

Jill smiled, and repeated her question. “I was asking if you'd like a game of scrabble, Tom loves it but I'm hopeless, and I remembered that you were always good at words. I thought you might like to play while I clear up, then I'll come and watch.”

Jayne returned the smile and nodded. “Of course.”

Tom rose from the table and went to sit cross-legged at a coffee table in the living room, pulling a Scrabble board from underneath and opening it. He set up the stands, and put out the bag of letters, pulling out his own seven tiles and arranging them neatly on his stand, then waiting for her to take her seat.

The table was glass, and she blushed slightly as she sat down, realising that her dress would reveal the delicate lingerie she had chosen with the dress. It was something she would never have worn before her divorce, but tonight she had wanted to feel attractive and so had bought a matching set of black lace, to go with the stockings. She sat anyway, tugging her dress as she did so as not to feel quite so on view. She thought for a moment that she caught Tom staring at her crotch through the glass table, but he looked away too quickly to be sure. Reaching into the bag with her painted, manicured fingers she pulled out seven little plastic tiles and arranged them carefully.

OUTCHKS

Tom spoke, softly. “Since you're the guest, I suppose you should go first.”

She nodded and quickly placed down her word on the star.

TOUCH

She reached into the bag again, drawing out her next few tiles. Tom's hand brushed her bare arm as he reached forwards to add three letters to her word.

TOUCHING

She smiled and glanced down at her tiles. A slight smile flickered across her lips and she looked up, staring into Tom's eyes deliberately as she placed her next few tiles, building out from the I.

LICKS

Tom swallowed as he returned her gaze, his eyes drifting down her body to her cleavage as she leaned forwards to draw out four more tiles. She leaned a little more than she really needed to, and withdrew the tiles one at a time, letting him get a reasonable view. A giggle sounded inside her mind and she admitted to herself that she was rather enjoying the attention, it was bringing a warm glow to her that she thought she had lost after the divorce. What surprised her is that the glow seemed to be spreading lower, and she shuffled as she sat back down.

With a shudder, Tom unfroze, his tanned skin flushing slightly as he realised that she had noticed, and that he had been caught. He moved his legs to try and hide the slight bulge that had appeared in his trousers, then smiled as he realised the word he could make. Slowly, deliberately, raising his gaze back up to hers with a confidence he did not truly feel, he placed his letters. An F, a blank, an N, a T, an A and a Y.

FANTASY

Tom froze again, his eyes questioning her. She glanced towards the table where Jill was clearing the last of the plates, and gave the tiniest of nods. Tom returned the nod as he placed down his own tiles.

SEXY

And so the game continued, words being carefully chosen for their impact, accompanied by smiles, licks of the lips, careful shifts of movement. After a few more turns Jill came to join them, sitting down heavily with a squeak at the side of the table, her legs stretched out under it. She looked at the board, blushed slightly, and smirked. “You two are having an interesting game.” Her smirk grew, and she reached out a hand to rest on Tom's thigh. “Whatever put those ideas in your head?”

Tom stammered, trying to find an answer, while Jayne simply returned Jill's smirk and answer. “You two.”

Jill reached out her other hand and placed it on Jayne's knee, sliding it up her thigh, over the rough fabric of the stockings until her fingers trailed across the gap of soft flesh above them, ending her teasing around the edge of her panties. The touch brought a gasp from Jayne's mouth, and she shivered in delight. Tom's stammering fell away and he rose to his feet, no longer caring about the obvious bulge in his trousers.

Reaching his hand down towards Jill, Tom drew her to her feet and into a deep kiss, his hands sliding over her soft, well-curved body and his fingers kneading her arse, the movement of his hands drawing her dress upwards. Jayne smiled and leaned forwards towards Jill, placing a kiss at the back of her knee before flicking her tongue across it.

Jill's reaction was immediate, her knees buckled, she fell from Tom's arms and to all fours on the floor. Tom laughed along with Jayne, looking at her. “You know about the knees then?” Jayne grinned and nodded, sliding Jill's dress back up and leaning forwards to gently bite the soft swell of her arse. Tom knelt in front of her, reaching forward to begin pulling to dress upwards over Jill's head. The cloth puddled onto the floor, leaving her naked. Jayne hadn't even considered for a moment that she might not be wearing anything other than the dress.

Jayne watched as Tom began to remove his suit, not rushed, but still quickly until he was soon standing there. She could see that he did not sunbathe nude, as a clear tan-line ran around his waist and his thighs. She opened her mouth slightly, running her tongue over her lips and tasting the slightly artificial taste of her red lipstick as she stared at his cock, already erect and upright. Her scope for comparison was not huge, but she thought it must be a little larger than average. Not obscenely so but certainly a little longer and thicker than any other she had seen, and with an upwards curve to the shaft she had not come across before.

Kneeling behind Jill as she was, Jayne could see quite easily as Jill's round face raised, and Tom moved, his cock disappearing behind Jill's head and from the sounds of licking and kissing, into her mouth. Letting out a moan at the thought, and shuddering, Jayne slowly lowered her head to Jill's pussy, running her tongue once lightly over the lips before she devoted herself enthusiastically to exploring Jill with her mouth and tongue. Her fingers tickled up the voluptuous, naked woman's legs and around to her hips, giving herself purchase to pull her tongue deeper into Jill's cunt, feeling the heat and the sweet, salty taste of her.

And so they remained for a while, Tom kneeling naked at Jill's head, her mouth enthusiastically working his cock. Jill on all fours in the middle, also naked, her large breasts hanging downwards and her body swaying back and forth between Tom's cock and Jayne's tongue. Jayne, the only one still clothes, her tongue sliding in, out and around Jill's cunt, flicking across her clitoris and along her lips.

Jayne pressed her tongue harder into Jill's cunt, letting one hand come up to pinch her clitoris. She screamed, the sound muffled by Tom's cock as her sudden thrashing pushed her head hard enough down on his cock that it caught into her throat. Her arms buckled and her legs splayed, her body collapsing into a quivering heap on the floor as her orgasm wracked her body, Tom's cock sliding from her mouth and Jayne's mouth and hand riding her down to the ground, playing with her almost roughly until she let out another scream and began shivering on the floor, and Jayne pulled away from her and looked up smugly at Tom, her lipstick smeared and her mouth wet with the younger woman's juices.

Tom glanced down once at Jill's still-panting face. “May I?”

In reply, Jill managed a nod.

Tom grinned and stepped towards Jayne, who watched as a drop of Jill's saliva, still making his cock shine, fell from him onto Jill's body. He reached down, offering her a hand to help her up to her feet, and pulled her into a kiss. It was intended to be almost a friendly kiss but when Tom tasted his wife on her lips he sank into it with a desperate passion, his hands roaming roughly over her body, pulling her dress up until he could feel her delicate lace panties. He began to try and tug them down, but in his passion the delicate cloth caught on his fingers and began to tear. He let out a grunt of frustration, still buried in the kiss, and instead simply pulled until the thin lace snapped and they came free in his hand.

Jayne gave out a moan, trying to decide whether she should protest or not, and then it was too late as he clamped his hands on her hips and lifted her, carrying her backwards to the sofa, his cock rubbing along her slit each time he moved, brushing over her buttocks, until he lifted her up once, and let his cock slide into her soaked pussy. He lowered her, dropping his heavy body on top of hers, onto the sofa, his knees resting on the floor and pushed off the floor, shoving his cock hard into her. The curve brought the head across her g-spot as he thrust, and Jayne reached down with a low moan, touching her clitoris as she felt him thrusting into and out of her body.

She rubbed with one hand, her other reaching up to clutch at the rough cushion of the sofa and dig her nails into it as her body was slammed into its padding, over and over, Tom grunting loudly each time as she began to shiver. Her fingers playing around her pussy and clit grew frantic, darting around his cock as he fucked her, pounding her body into the cushions. She felt it building inside her, a warm heat, becoming hotter and hotter until it exploded from her in a wash of sensations, rushing through her entire body as she beat her fists against the sofa, sobbing and moaning with the feel of it. As she calmed she felt Tom tense, and thrust once more inside her, his cock thrumming in her body and releasing a wash of warm, thick semen into her, driving her to orgasm once again. Her struggles were softer this time, exhausted and gentled by her first powerful orgasm.

At the door, they exchanged smiles. Tom and Jill had recovered their clothes and dressed once again, though Jayne had been forced to abandon her newly bought expensive panties after the tearing, they were beyond repair. She leaned in to give each of them a passionate kiss, and whispered low under her voice “We must do this again sometime” before she turned and walked away, feeling their eyes on the back of her dress where it clung tightly to her bare arse

Still Getting Letters

Well I've decided that I'll try and guarantee that this'll get updated with one complete story each week. This is another old one, and from now on I'll try to add a new one each Saturday, regardless of what's happened during the week.

Another one arrived today. I mean, I know that there's up to a month delay in postage between there and here, but its been over a year now. I just keep getting the letters, all signed from her, all relating the latest events in her life. This one was to let me know that she'd finally moved on, although she'd like to keep in touch, and had settled down with her boyfriend in their new house.

The house burned down fourteen months ago, she was killed in the fire. Police suspected arson but could never prove anything. And I'm still getting the letters.

It was nearly two years ago now that she stormed out, after our final argument. We'd been great friends, but becoming lovers had been a mistake. Now the only thing that could fix the damage was time and distance. She left the country, found a job teaching English to starving African children in the hopes that they could get jobs on tech support desks rather than making shoes. A few weeks after she left I started getting letters from her, one every day, right up until today. I don't know what to do with them now.

What do I do if they just keep coming? I keep hearing more and more about her life, and all I can think is what we had together before she died. I saw them take the coffin, I even had to identify her from her personal effects. She and her boyfriends bones, twisted and fused together by the heat of the fire. The boyfriend who had taken her in after she left me, stolen the one love of my life, and then allowed her to die. I only managed to identify her from the ring she was wearing, the one I'd given to her when our relationship started, when we became more than friends for that first time.

The letters arrive with the normal post, but I can't track them back. I've tried asking the post office, they can't tell me anything. Apparently they've been sorted, but there's no record of it. Nor is there any record of the air mail delivery number on each one. As far as the post office are concerned, they don't exist. I've been to the house she keeps talking about. Nothing but a bare, twisted skeleton, burned almost to the ground, nothing but blackened wooden beams scattered across the sterile foundations.

I just don't know what I'm meant to do. What does she want from me? Why can't she just tell me?

This is going to drive me insane, I know. I can't do anything about it. I should have just let her go, I should never have gone to Africa to try and find her. I should never have done it. I shouldn't have set alight to the house when I found out she was living with someone else, was doing the things that were only mine before with someone else.

Jealousy is a terrible thing, and she won't let me forget it. I know they both died in that fire, I watched as their naked, writhing flesh melted from their bones in that bed. I stood outside the house and watched it burn to the ground. So why am I still getting these letters?

Its my birthday today, I got a package from her. I don't really know what's going on still. I've not opened it yet, I'm scared to open it. I don't know what she might have sent me. There's no way that this can really be from her, or that any of the letters can have been, but who else would know so much? Either its someone setting me up for something, or there's something truly strange going on. Whichever it is I'm terrified. I think I'll try and move house, maybe that'll get rid of the letters.

Okay, I'm going to try and force myself to open the package.

I can't do it. I picked it up and gave it a shake. Whatever's in there is heavy, and sounds metal I guess. Possibly in a few bits. Doesn't seem to be padded at all though, so it can't be fragile. Its just a package wrapped in plain brown paper, I always used to rant about how I don't understand the reason for wrapping paper. I need to know what she sent me, but I'm scared of what it could be.

Okay, okay. I'll open it.

There's a letter under the wrapping, still in her handwriting, signed from her. It doesn't say much, just giving the latest news as usual, and wishing me a happy birthday. Wait, there's a post script.

Oh god.

I'm opening the box now, although I already know what's in there. God help me.

“So then, we can suspect foul play quite happily I think. Its obvious that he's been strangled.”

“Yep, looks like it. What do you think all of these papers are about?”

“I heard he went quite odd, but I didn't know he was this strange. Why stuff loads of blank papers into blank envelopes?”

“No idea, though then again considering what happened with his wife I guess you can't blame him for being a little weird.”

“What, you mean running off to Africa with that shaman nutter?"

“Yeah. Then there was the whole thing where he got accused of attempted murder and arson."

"Who? The shaman?"

"No, the nutter here. You must've read about it in the papers."

“Oh, now that's just sick.”

“What? What is it?”

“There's a severed hand in this shoebox. What kind of sicko would do something like that?”

“Dunno. Take it, we can probably get some prints off and try and identify it."

End of the World

I thought something apocalyptic would make a good start for my new blog. This is one I wrote some time ago, and is largely to prove that I can write non-sexual stories. Its nothing particularly amazing.

Anyway the first few will probably all be older stories though I might throw in some of my more recent writings, including some of the erotica. Comments, as always, are welcome.

The world ended yesterday. It was quite pretty to watch really. First we had the most magical sight, it was like the entire sky caught fire. The aurora borealis spreading from pole to pole, bright than anyone has ever seen it before. Trees, animals, people, cities, cars, everything pretty much incinerated in that instant as the sun expanded and engulfed the earth. The ground turned liquid and ran smoothly, and the sea simply vanished in clouds of steam, boiling away in minutes.

I was at home at the time it happened. Fifth floor, out on the balcony of my flat. Nothing particularly special going on, just leaning out and watching people going past below. Of course, I knew it was gonna happen. I'd been given forewarning to get my affairs in order. A lot to do in my job when the end of the world is coming.

So, watched this bright, almost agonising light as the world's atmosphere was stripped from it, torn away and boiled off into space. Feeding the hungry sun that had grown to engulf it. Watched as the fires spread so quickly, tearing apart the cities, melting the ground, turning people to ash almost instantly as they stood and watched in wonder.

Some were so shocked and awed they didn't even notice they were dead. Those were fun to recruit I must tell you, still, its my job. Oh, and of course once this was all done the dead rose up. Or as much rising up as you can do. From horizon to horizon it was just ghostly shapes, one after the other. Glowing in various colours and shades, varying in brightness. It certainly dwarfed the heavens being aflame.

At least we won though. People had finally given up and stopped believing, and that was all we needed to trigger it. What the Christians and everyone else never really got was that they were prisoners. You can spout on about free will all you like, but they never really had it. We've now given it to everyone. There is not a single person alive, uh, still around, who cannot choose exactly what they want to be, and do.

So thank us, we've destroyed your gods, your myths, your masters. We've set you all free of the prison that they locked you in. Your world is now your own.