The Cottage – Part Three – (Short Story)

On July 16, 2019 By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Original Fiction, Stories, Uncategorized, Weird FictionLeave a comment

Image result for johnnie walker red — Part Two – Click Here | Part One – Click Here

Jim looked at the manila envelope on the coffee table. In large, neat, red letters done up calligraphy style the envelope carried a message, “Read Now. Read Careful. Read again.”

He undid the flat diverging fastening pin. And instantly regretted it. There were at least a hundred typewritten pages.

The first line read.

“I know you are a fool.”

‘Yep, that’s Hants voice. Gee thanks ya crusty old hick. At least I don’t have to have some witchdoctor type up my letters.’

“You’d best heed Lizzy. She’s your aunt.”

Jim laughed aloud. “So he isn’t gay after all.”

The next few pages read like a chapter out of Leviticus. They were all stern commands spoken like a Hebrew prophet about the cleansing of this and the placing of that.

‘I’d make up weird shit too if I had nothing to do besides play with my prick and get drunk.’ He mused.

The Sunday School lesson was putting him to sleep and he deposited the pages back in the envelope.

“Maybe if I get bored…but right now…I’m gonna get blitzed.”

He walked over to the mantel. Saw a mostly full Johnnie Walker Red and poured it into an ornate crystal tumbler featuring a thistle.

“Musta done more than sell ginseng and mine…this shit costs more than my apartment.”

Jim plomped unceremoniously onto the mahogany leather couch and stared into the unlit fireplace. He was too lazy to light it. And there was no reason to. He was accustomed to broken heaters and Boston winters. Besides there was something hypnotic about the stillness.

It was so different than the roar of engines and the howl of sirens. Jim found it far more intoxicating than the whiskey that warmed his bones. Soon he sank into deep strange dreams.

Dreams that he could not recall when the brilliant mountain sun filled the cottage with waking. At first he panicked because he was late for his shift at Dempsey’s. Then as his bleary eyes slowly grew accustomed to the light he panicked even harder.

The envelope that he had left on the coffee table was lying neatly. Balanced ever so carefully so as not to fall off the armrest on the opposite side of the couch.

He started to his feet and cursed as the empty fifth clattered beneath them. He lost his balance and fell back onto his makeshift sleeping quarters.

“Guess Dorkothy’s not in Boston anymore.” He remarked chuckling at his own incompetence. Half from actual mirth and half to shield his wits from mulling too deeply on the implications of the letters new position.

“Shit, I musta drunk too fast.”

He figured that he must of got bored and played balance the bullshit while shitfaced.

“Yep…that’s that prehangover warning headache.” He said aloud as he ran to the kitchen and guzzled three tall glasses of well water from the faucet.

‘Thank Christ the guy has OCD.’ Jim mused as he happily discovered how easy it was to find the essentials. Eggs, frying pans, butter everything was in its place. He made himself a large omlete. Ate. Drank more water.

It was already past noon and pleasantly warm as he pissed in the outhouse.

“I could get used to this.” He spoke aloud again to no one in particular as he slowly recalled the right method from that one time he’d had to use a percolator.

He plopped on the front porch with a tin cup full of rich dark coffee and lit a cigarette.

“Yeah, I could get used to this.”

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The Cottage – Part Two – (Short Story)

On July 15, 2019 By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Original Fiction, Stories, The Fractal Journal, Uncategorized, Weird FictionLeave a comment

Jim had never seen stars that bright before. In a sky as clean and clear as the angles of his uncle’s cabin. They hung silent. They hung cold.

“It’s chilly up here.” He remarked.

“That’s the damp settin in.”

“Well then I’d best be settin in. I see a chimney. And…” Jim said extracting the maglight he’d lifted off a distracted cop.

“Hey.” Dutch said with such resonance that he didn’t have to shout. “…Don’t be shinin that at the trees.”

“Uh….what the fuck Dutch?”

Dutch showed the first sign of discomfort that Jim had thus far witnessed. The aftereffects of the ATV headlights revealed a rolling of the eyes up and to the left. The giant seemed to be considering something.

“I hunt round these parts. In fact I got a bow on me right now. I don’t want ye to scare off my game.”

“Is it hunting season?”

“It’s always huntin’ season round Reed.”

“…well alrighty then…” Jim said. “Can I at least finally have a fucking smoke?”

“Don’t ‘fend me none.”

“Any reason that we were in such a rush? Couldn’t we have stayed at a hotel so that my Southie ass didn’t have to immediately get Lyme disease pokin round the dark?”

“Well, ye might think it silly but round here we have certain beliefs.”

“Ya don’t say…” Jim sneered recalling the ginseng.

“Hant’s house cannot stand without Hant’s blood.”

Jim took a step back.

“I ain’t into that bloodletting Wicca shit. Had this one girlfriend…”

“T’ain’t what I meant.”

“Good,” Jim said allowing the hammer of his .38 to come to rest more audibly than it had been cocked.

“I ain’t afeard of yer pea shooter. Nor should ye be afeard of me.”

“I’m a city boy. I ain’t afeard of anything cause I’m afeard of everything. People are more dangerous than bears.”

“Well, then maybe you’ll last longer than I thought ye would.”

“Last…?”

“Don’t ye mind that. I didn’t mean to insult ya. It’s just that most folk. Even country folk…they can’t dwell here too long. There’s not enough of the wild in these people. And so the wild here overwhelms them.”

“Ain’t nothin wilder than a Cleary.”

Dutch started. “That’s not Hant’s surname….” He looked really worked up.

“Well, yeah. He’s from my mom’s side. Cronin.”

Dutch seemed relieved. “As long as ya got the blood.”

“Um..look…could you really need to work on your bedside manner.”

“Huh?”

“Could ya please fukin stop sayin blood.”

“What’s wrong with blood. You got blood I got blood everything’s got blood.”

“I’m just worried that with all this blood talk there might be some things that won’t have no more by the end of the night.”

“Are ya yellow?”

“No, just street-smart.”

“Well, there ain’t no streets round here. And I need to be goin. I’ll help ya carry in your belongings’ then I gotta go.”

“Fine by me,” Jim said hoping that the blood-obsessed rustic got goin’ for good.

Jim was a light traveler. A case of whiskey, a hamper of clothes, a toothbrush, Hustler, and a carton of smokes were the sum of his belongings. So it wasn’t long before they’d stowed those belongings in the compulsively neat cabin.

Something didn’t feel right about the precision of the furniture. The way it was spaced. It didn’t seem to be done for entirely utilitarian reasons.

“This is some crazy Feng Shui shit right here…” Jim said trying to move a sharply cornered diamond shaped table away from the wall.

“Don’t do that.”

“Is that your favorite sayin?”

“I mean…ye can try. To do it…but it ain’t gonna do.”

He was right.

The table was affixed to the floor.

“O, what in the fuck…!” Jim exclaimed. “I need a god damned drink.”

Dutch chuckled. “Plenty o that here. Ye probably won’t even get to the stuff ya brought.” He said pointing to the large amply stocked mantelpiece.

“Well…I knew old Hant was a drunk.” Jim said wryly. “But I didn’t know he was gay.”

“He ain’t.”

“Then why is every lamp a god damned Tiffany?”

“Beliefs.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look boy. There’s ways round here. And ye had best learn them. If not out of respect, then so as to get your pay.”

“Now you’re speaking a language I can understand.”

“Gud.” Said the giant as he turned to leave. “I was told that ye can read. Yer uncle had Doc type up the caring of this place. So, make sure that ye do.” He opened the door.

“O…and boy…you will hear things. It’s best to not let them bother you. And they won’t bother you. So long as ye follow the rules. Best take heed o old Lizzy. Do not forget to leave the root. On the stump. Towards the side that grows the moss. Ye do not want it to be missed.”

And with that the cabin resounded with a slammed door.

“What in the actual fuck…” Jim said as he listened to the disappearing roar of the ATV.

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She Sells Seahells – Part II (Original Story)

On September 14, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

301 best Ship of the line & other navy wessels images on ... — Part I

I was throbbing. Absolutely throbbing as a billion points of grain pressed into the exposed skin of my arm and face. Slowly the blinding light receded. It was replaced by a voice.

A gruff reeking voice. “Git up…eh…you git!”

I groaned.

“Halstead! retch’d derelict…up wit ya!”

I stirred. The sound of surf met my ears.

I raised myself up on an elbow as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of the sun.

“Dis right… up with ye, noaw..”

I stumbled up and immediately started to laugh.

“Who…who…who the hell are you?”

“Poor layd wuts that damned merchants sold to ya….”

“What…” I really couldn’t contain my laughter…”What the fuck are you wearing…”

“Ewd tink the crown ken clad us better…” Now the stranger was laughing with me.

I examined him. This had to be some kind of joke. Buckled shoes, some kinda capris, and an oversized tunic covered in thick cascades of unkempt ginger beard.

“Who the fuck are you man…seriously..jokes is good and all but where’s Danny?”

“Yir wits gon! Is no danny mong us nor in town. Ir! Trink dis…”

He shoved a dirty bottle of clear liquid in my hand. I smelled it. Seemed like water. I was painfully thirsty and my body hurt something fierce.

Who the hell was this guy. ‘Oh shit.’ I looked down and realized I wasn’t shirtless…and where the hell were my trunks. I had some kind of coarse tunic and bedraggled leggings that itched and oppressed with coarseness. The thought of being disrobed by the likes of this guy didn’t sit well with me.

All right I yelled standing fully upright. “That’s a great prank and all but really who the hell are you where’s Danny…why did ya leave me here at night…I coulda drown…”

Danny’s bearded cohort shook his head. “Mi lord but wut were in diz ween! Names Yost…remember..I pulled ew from the waves diz how thenk me ken no remember me…Yost..Van Yost ye trink addled boi. Rememver you your own name o?!”

Something about all those vowels. Van Yost…

“Where’s Harris!”

“Gadverdamme…woke now r ya? Guid…Harris iz profound buzzi wit dayt geitenneuker Timurhan!”

“The artillery…!”

“Powder iz secure…Kapeetan Deaf vaunted to teech lesson to you.”

“I may well have drowned! And the powder!”

“Iz safe you fool boy…dat Castillian dogs run off when we a fired…why you let em drunk ya?”

“I had to enter into a confidence…I did…get the key to Harris…I MAY WELL HAVE DROWNED! LEAVE ME PON THE SHORE!”

I launched with fists. But the old salt was strong and large. I hadn’t realized how tall he was till his long arm held me at bay like a tantrauming child.

“Noaw I say to forgit me title iz pardonable but what gratitude iz this ye soaked rat…shoulda left you to the sharks…” He spit on me.

More and more I recollected things. I apologized profusely.

“Well…allz well noaw but do no take evrey chance for poison..ye liar…INTO A CONFIDENCE…INTO A CONFIDENCE…klerelijer!

“You say the Turk has loosed his tongue?”

“Aye.”

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She Sells Seahells – Part One – (Original Story)

On September 13, 2018 By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Image result for vana katacic — Drink…Dr. Ink

I was breathless. I was ecstatic. The soft sand propelled me forward with a rhythmic dampened crunch. I was a little tipsy. My friend seven years my senior lagged far behind. Not only was he older, but the call center hadn’t exactly improved his stamina. I had run track in highschool and never stopped running.

My legs were thick and strong and the exhilaration of the liquid liberty of a 21^st birthday had rendered my companion a distant spec barely visible on the horizon. I jumped into the foaming waves.

It was dark. There weren’t many hotels here just a few snooty residential houses. The water was warm beneath a pallid moon and a billion brilliant stars. I sloshed about taking in all the sensations of dr

ink and the unparalleled joy of a young disciplined body.

“Listen you ocean…you great salty fuck…you’re mine…you don’t scare me! I’ll swim you. I’ll drown you with my motion.”

I treaded water as I watched the shore. It was so still so calm. I’d been high a couple of times more than a couple…but I had never felt this good. I’d fucked and it had never felt this good.

The combination of alkaline numbness, runners high, and the balmy air of an oceanside evening was the sublimest birthday gift that I could have received.

O but there was more!

I saw somebody else as my gaze fell to my left.

A girl. It was dark but I knew it was a girl. I could tell by the hips even though she was wearing a hoody. It was three twenty AM. What was she doing out here. Maybe she’d come from one of those rich dudes house. Rich girls always had the best grass.

…and the best ass…

I sprang to my feet and jogged in her direction.

I’d made quiet a lot of sound on the approach and she had doubtless heard my commotion in the waves. Yet I was within a foot and she stood perfectly still. In fact as I got closer I realized that she hadn’t moved at all.

‘Did someone lose their real doll?’ I laughed out loud. A boisterous laugh fed by the virility of young adulthood and the lingering whimsy of adolescence.

Despite my laughing she did not move.

“Hey girl…hey!” I said leaping in front of her.

Stock still.

I was beginning to feel odd.

“Hey are you alright…” I was facing her now. Her head was cast down the hoodie obscuring her features beneath the feeble aid of a waning moon.

Nothing. No motion. No sound.

Except…was…was she sobbing? If she was. It was the faintest sob that I had ever heard.

“Hey…” I said reaching out my hand…”it’s going to be ok…what is it bitchy friends…dick boyfriend…” just as my fingertips made contact with her shoulder…she fucking screamed.

I mean really screamed. It wasn’t just any scream it was a shriek.

“Great…” I muttered sarcastically as I nursed my ears. “It’s going to be even more annoying hearing the cops ask stupid questions and suggest rapey intentions now that I’m deaf.”

It had really hurt. It had hurt in more than one way. It took it a while to fully take hold. But I was suddenly…sad…just really really sad. I felt hot tears streak like lightning down my face…they were salty…so salty and so hot…I was choking on them. I let out a long low wail.

I felt an oppressive blackness. I could see nothing. And hear nothing…and feel nothing except grief…grief that dragged me further and further down down till it gave way to sympathy an overwhleming sense of sympathy and I opened my arms…

The blackness receded. She was no longer wearing a hood. My friend was nowhere in sight. She was beautiful…her hair a jetty shimmering black…her skin pale and smooth as porcelain…the eyes were such a deep pale blue. She regarded me with so much understanding in those depths and her arms outstretched.

We embraced and I felt the world begin to whirl. Her skin was soft, silky, warm…her breath was sweet…but I could feel the sadness return…I could feel it increase with every thump I felt emerge from beneath her breast. Our heartbeats were syncing…like my heart was slowly being taught to keep rhythm with hers…with each pulse…I felt strange primordial pain…and it increased…till all was bright…blindingly bright and bare and reeling.

To be continued.