R.M. DuChene's Blog, page 6

Membrane

There is nothing in the universe quite as painful as waking up from prolonged Cryo-hibernation. Okay, so the week-long throbbing headache wasn’t the worst pain I had ever felt, but it was certainly the most annoying. By the end of day six, I was ready to flush myself out of the airlock. They say that the longer a person is put under, the longer it takes for the effects to wear off. Considering that I’d been under for about a hundred light-years, I guess I should’ve been happy that I survived at all.

I was happy that it only took a hundred light-years to reach the membrane. The distance that I and the rest of the expedition covered should have taken well over ten million light-years. I couldn’t imagine the headache we would’ve had after that trip. Luckily, the brainiacs who designed our ship and mapped out the universe came up with a brilliant method of travel. They pin-pointed every black hole they could find and punched the coordinates into the nifty on-board navigation system that they called the Tesla 1.

The Tesla 1 not only serves as a cosmic GPS, but also generates the magnetic field necessary to turn a black hole into a worm hole. Everything is automated. All I had to do was take a nice, long, dreamless nap. I don’t pretend to understand how it all works. I’m just a spectator on this voyage. A record keeper if you will. My job is to log daily reports while the scientists perform their experiments and all that mumbo-jumbo.

I’m pretty sure that my parents would be proud of me, even though I’m not really a big part of the operation. Or rather, were proud of me. If my calculations are correct, they’ve been gone for just under sixteen thousand years. I could only guess what the rest of their lives must have been like. I mourned for them pretty heavily during that first week out of the tube. I would’ve mourned for my sister as well, but she died when we were children. We were identical twins, rare at the time that I left earth. We looked completely alike, except that she had a small birthmark just below her right eye. My mother used to tell me that if it hadn’t been for that birthmark, she would’ve probably mixed us up completely when we were babies. I was happy when I heard that Cryo-hibernation was dreamless. Back home, I dreamt of her every night, riding her bicycle in the street, just before that car came.

It’s best not to think of such things, I know. If I hadn’t have run into the house to get us a couple of juice-bags, it could’ve been me who died that day and not her – a thought that’s haunted me every day since.

***

It took thirty-two days to reach the membrane after we woke from our slumber. In universe time, thirty-two days doesn’t even measure a single unit. During the rest of the trip, minus the first week when everyone was grouchy, hung-over and just wanting to be left alone, the four person crew got along well enough. There was pre-prepped, nukable food and plenty of work that needed to be done before we arrived at our destination. I would say final destination, but that sounds so…well, final. There were also movies to watch and video games to play. I didn’t even want to think about how outdated they were by the time we got to use them.

Of the four person crew, I was the only female. The three men were Jared, Mike, and Thomas, last names unimportant.

On the final travel day, Mike and Jared were performing final test on the scanning equipment, Thomas was performing routine maintenance on the Cryo-tubes, and I was doing nothing special when the proximity alarm filled the small ship. I scrambled from the chair I was sitting in and ran to the observation room. The ship was completely auto-piloted and was able to maneuver around any large objects in its path, but I wanted to see what the sensor was picking up. I made it to the observation room at the same time Thomas did and we both stared at the wall-length display, mouths gaping. It was another ship, and it was heading right for us.

“This is impossible,” Thomas said, more to himself than me. Then, “This is freaking impossible!”

Mike and Jared entered the observation room and both stood, slack-jawed staring at the monitor.

“It’s going to hit us,” I said.

“No, Mike said, the ship will turn around it.”

For the next few seconds, there was nothing we could do but watch and wait as the small craft grew larger on the monitor. As the ship cruised closer to us, I became more and more anxious.

“It’s not turning,” I said

“It’s going to turn,” Mike said.

It drew closer.

“It’s not turning,” I said, louder.

“It’s going to turn!” Mike said, even louder than me.

Then, it was on top of us, mere meters from us, nose to nose.

“It’s not turning!” I screamed.

“Grab on to something!” Mike said and we all found panels on the wall to hold on to. It wasn’t much, but when the collision did happen, it was enough.

We bounced forward, toward the monitor, and then flew backwards, all landing on top of one another. It felt as if the ship had bounced off of a balloon. There was no metal to metal impact, no fires breaking out, and we weren’t being sucked out into the cold, vacuum of space.

We regained our feet and stared at the other ship, floating just meters in front of us.

“What the hell was that?” Jared asked, rubbing his neck.

“We hit it,” Mike said.

“Hit what?”

“The membrane,”

***

Jared used the on-board sensors to confirm that we were indeed at the membrane. From there, the system did all the work. We knew that our position was confirmed when the ship began to pivot slowly. Once the Starboard side was facing the membrane, the turning stopped.

“Oh, you can’t be serious,” Mike said from the observation room. “No way, man!”

In light of the recent events, the rest of us wasted no time scrambling back to the observation room. When I got there, my thoughts mirrored Mike’s words. The monitor was displaying an image from our starboard side. On the screen, the other ship had turned as well. Along its side, Tesla 1 was stenciled in dark orange, just like on ours.

We stood, stunned. Thomas started to say something, but just waved us away with his hands. To make things stranger, the other ship’s starboard airlock opened, displaying a single being, clad in an extravehicular mobility unit, or spacesuit for the non-geeks. The being gave a little push and floated out from his ship. The crew must have been too paranoid to allow for tetherless space travelling, so the being trailed a long umbilical cord behind it. It floated toward us slowly, and then suddenly bounced back from an invisible barrier that could’ve only been the Membrane.

“This is fascinating,” Jared said. “We speculated that the universe had an ending, but this proves that multiverses exist.”

“So, you’re saying that they’re people, just like us?” I asked.

“Who knows if they’re just like us,” Jared said. “But look at the ship. They’re obviously on the same mission we are.”

Mike turned and quickly walked out of the Observation Room.

“Hey, Thomas called after him. Where you going?”

“I’m going to say hi,” Mike answered. “We don’t want to be rude, do we?”

There was a small round of bickering, but in the end, we all helped Mike get into his EMU. Once the suit was fully assembled and self-contained, Mike walked into the airlock.

Thomas attached the tether and closed the airlock door. A few seconds and a thumbs-up later, Mike was floating toward the membrane, and the alien being that floated behind it.

“You hear me, Mike?” Thomas asked into the radio.

“Lima-Charlie, brother,” Mike answered. He floated up to the membrane and did a little bounce off of it. “Whew! That’s actually kind of fun!” He floated inches away from the being, yet a universe away as well. He waved his right hand at the being – it waved its right hand in return. He waved his left hand – it waved its left hand.

“Lift your visor,” Thomas said.

“What?” Mike said. “You sure about that?”

“It can’t hurt you. Nothing can get through the membrane.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Mike hit a button on the side of his helmet and the sun-visor lifted up, displaying his face to the being in the other universe. The being jolted suddenly, looked at Mike’s face, looked back at his ship, then back at Mike’s face again – then it lifted its own visor.

“Holy, shit!” Mike shouted. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

“Mike, what is it? What do you see?” Thomas asked. He moved his hand to the control that would retract the tether and pull Mike back to the airlock.

“It’s me,” mike said. “Holy shit, it’s me.”

***

We studied the membrane for thirty days before we had to begin our long trek back home. Mike, Thomas, and Jared all took turns during their off hours, drifting out to the membrane and communicating with their alternate selves. They would flail their hands about and make faces at each other. Mike actually carried out index cards that he wrote questions on. He asked questions like, was your mother’s name Jessica, and did you grow up in Jersey, among many others. To each of his questions, his alternate self-nodded yes.

By the end of the month-long study, the boys had become pretty chummy with their alter-selves, referring to them as, ‘The other me,’ and sometimes, ‘My space twin.’ When the time drew close to leaving, they began to bug me about going outside.

“I’m not trained to use the EMU,” I told them.

“That’s bull-pucky,” Thomas told me. “You know as well as I do that we can tie you off. You’ll be safe.”

“I just don’t want to go out there.” The truth was that I was scared to death to go out there. I wasn’t really keen on meeting my alternate self. The whole thing was just too strange. Besides, I told myself, she probably doesn’t want to meet me anyway. Why else hasn’t she come out of the ship?

Well, the boys didn’t let up; so on the final day of research, I told them that I would only go out if my space-twin said that she would too. Mike smiled and wrote down the question on an index card.

It was my turn. Mike asked the question, his alter-self went back into his own ship, and then appeared at his airlock moments later, giving us a big thumbs up. I reluctantly let the boys help me into the EMU. They just about had to force me into the airlock. When the thick door closed behind me, I knew that I was committed. The only thing that made me feel remotely better was the appearance of the other me, standing in the open airlock of her own ship, and holding onto the sides like I was. We’ll, I thought. One of us has to make the leap first. I released my death-grip from the side of the ship, squared myself off in the center of the open door, and then gently pushed myself forward. From the other universe, my space-twin saw what I did and did the same.

We met in the center, pressed up against the membrane. I opened my visor, she opened hers. It was uncanny. I felt as if I was looking into a giant mirror in space. We were completely identical, except for the small birthmark below her eye. I pressed my hand against the membrane. She did the same. We were both crying. In her universe, I had died and in mine, she had. But there, in the farthest reaches of space, we found each other again. Together, we mouthed the words, “I love you.”

***

“Let’s go,” Thomas said. “Put it up.” You can finish it at home. I was busy scribbling down the last of my notes and summarizing the data that the boys collected, including the stuff about the space-twins.

“They’re never going to believe us,” I said.

“Then, we’ll know the truth, won’t we? Look, Mike and Jared are already in la-la-land. I need to get you a tucked in so we can get out of here. We’re kind of on a tight time-line.”

I chuckled at that. There I was, about to travel 100 light years, and I was being rushed.

“Just a quick nap,” and we’re home,” he said.

“I wonder what the world will look like,” I said. “It’s kind of frightening.”

“Well, let’s see. By the time we get back, we will have been gone for…oh, I’d say about sixteen thousand years. It’s safe to assume that things might be a little different.”

“But, what if everyone’s gone? What if it’s a terrible place?”

Thomas considered and said, “Nah, it’s going to be a good place, because it’s our home. Besides, you won’t be alone – you got us. To that I had to smile. I closed my log and let Thomas lead me to my tube. After I climbed inside, he closed the door and hit a few switches. As the initial sedatives began to flood the chamber, he rapped on the glass.

“Sweet dreams,” he said, then kissed his fingers and pressed them against the glass. The next thing I remembered was waking up a few days from earth with a terrible headache.

The Preventer: Williams AZ

I woke in Bakersfield at 0630 with a stiff neck. It’s not unusual for my neck to be stiff when I wake, it’s just part of the life – some motel beds are better than others. It’d been a late night, taking me well past the witching hour to complete my business at Willow Grove Cemetery. What a mess that was – three chompers taken out. They rose from the ground at the same time like all the others. I’m still not sure why they do that. It’s as if some hidden force calls to them and wakes them at the same time. They didn’t die at the same time, but just before midnight, they came tearing up through the freshly piled dirt mounds together, three mouths clacking open and closed like hungry hippos. I took all three of them down with my pistol – only the third one managed to crawl completely out of her grave. Her plot was at the other end of the cemetery, so by the time I reached her; she was half-way to me, arms extended and clawing at the air. I blessed her with a single, silenced shot to the center of her forehead. What a shame. She was kind of cute.

Another thing that still bugs me to this day is that I still can’t figure out how the disease spreads. The chompers that I put down are all young. There seems to be more males than females, but they are all in their late teens to late twenties for the most part. I’ve put down some that were in their thirties, but not many. Other than the one chomper in West Valley who recently returned from Singapore, before dying in his sleep the next day, there was nobody else in their forties and absolutely nobody older than that. There have been many theories of course, mostly among The Preventers, but nothing concrete. I asked Gus, my handler last week if he knew how the disease spreads and he looked at me like he wanted to pull my spine out through my mouth.

“You’re a Preventer,” he said. “Prevent.” Then, he handed me my monthly envelop with the cash. I like the envelope with the cash, so I try not to piss Gus off. Preventers don’t exactly get a salary. We get some cash once a month for small things that we can’t use the cards for. All of us have a credit card, complete with a fictional name. The cards never seem to run out of money. We use them for food, gas, and for uncomfortable motel beds. Some others may choose to live in less modest accommodations, but I try to keep a low profile.

Anyway, it wasn’t my alarm that woke me at 0630, it was my phone. By the time I finished reburying the bodies, I didn’t make it back to my room until after 0300. The call was from my mother in Williams. My sister, Georgia died in her sleep.

***

The last time saw my little sister, she was eight. I didn’t mean to stay away for the following eight years; it’s just that the job – the job keeps me moving. We don’t have a dispatch. Nobody calls and tells us, ‘go here’ or ‘go there.’ My method of deployment is usually the same method that landed me the job in the first place – my intuition. I drive. I drive and randomly stop in towns across the country and wherever I stop, the chompers appear. If I were a paranoid person, I would probably believe that I was the harbinger of the undead. I know better though. I have the sight, the feeling, the intuition. However it’s described, I have the right stuff for the job.

I hung up with my mother after a few minutes and hit the road. I didn’t see the point of trying to console her over the phone when I could be on my way to do it in person. For the entirety of the six hour drive from Bakersfield to Williams, I thought about Georgia. I thought about Georgia and smiled. I thought about Georgia and cried. I thought about how I wasn’t there for her and felt guilty. After eight years, I was returning home. It wasn’t the job. There was no intuition about it. I was taking a few days off to mourn my sister and comfort my mother. I called Gus on the way. He didn’t get all wishy-washy. He just said, “Roger” and hung up. Not a big people person, that guy.

I pulled into up to my mother’s house a little before one. She was standing on the wide, white-washed porch, wringing her hands and crying. A few seconds later, we were crying together, wrapped in a tight embrace. She led me into the old house that I would always think of as ‘home’ and poured us some coffee. Over the next few hours, we talked about what cities I had been to and sights that I’d seen. She asked if there were any women in my life. I lied and told her that there had been a few. She asked how my job was going, but didn’t linger on the subject. Selling insurance isn’t exactly a sexy topic. By the time six-o’clock rolled around, I’d drained my fourth cup of coffee and had excused myself to go to the bathroom. I walked away from the table classy enough, but after I stepped into the front-room, I picked up my pace – I had to go really bad.

When I came out the bathroom, I found Jake standing in the middle of the living-room with my mother. His eyes were red and puffy. I guess all of ours were. He was holding my mother’s hand and offering her his condolences when I walked in. When he saw me, he managed a smile.

“Brandon,” he said. “It’s been way too long.”

He shook my hand and appeared to be confused as to whether or not he should hug me as well, but thankfully decided against trying.

“I’m so sorry for you loss,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said. Staring into Jake’s tear-filled eyes made mine threaten to begin leaking again. “I need to run to the store for a few things,” I said to my mom. “You need anything?” She shook her head no. I didn’t really need anything from the store, f course. I just needed to get out of there for a bit and get myself together.

***

For the next couple of days, I slept in my old bedroom. I would love to say that my mother had kept it just the way I left it, but I’d be lying. It was her sewing-room now. There was a really comfortable sofa in there though, so it served. I couldn’t imagine sleeping in my sister’s bed.

During the day, I would help my mother coordinate with the funeral home and the coroner’s office. The Coroner released Georgia’s body to the Funeral Home with natural causes listed as the cause of death on the death certificate. There was still the toxicology report to be filed, but preliminary tests didn’t find any of the common drugs in her system. She simply went to bed one night and never woke up.

When Saturday rolled around, I drove my mother to the funeral home for the viewing. The service and burial was scheduled for the following morning. Saturday was for family and friends to come and see Georgia’s body and say their final goodbyes. We stayed for the majority of the day, welcoming people as they showed up at different times, paid their condolences, and then quickly left. When the sun went down, the viewing was over. I drove my mother home and put her to bed. She’d had a long day and looked as if a strong wind would blow her off of her feet. Feeling completely drained me; I curled up on living room couch, still in my clothes, and fell asleep.

The Chapel was packed for the funeral. It seemed as if the entire town had showed up. I sat in the reserved front row with my mother on one side of me and Jake on the other. The service was long-winded and uncomfortable. I hate to say it, but I was looking forward to the burial and having the day done. I hadn’t had one of my intuitions yet, telling me to get in my car and drive, but it would be coming soon. Of that, I had no doubt.

The burial was more of the same. The preacher said a few words, mostly reiterating what he’d said during the funeral service, and then Georgia’s coffin was lowered into the ground. When I put my exhausted mother to bed that night, I decided that I would head out of Williams the next day. Jake was still sitting on the couch when I returned to the living room. He tilted back his head and drained the rest of the reddish-brown beer bottle in his hand.

“I’m getting myself one of those,” I said. “You want another one?”

He nodded and I grabbed two from the kitchen. When I returned from the kitchen, I handed Jake one of the beers, sank into the sofa next to him, and twisted off the cap of my own. I pulled in a long swallow and stared at the powered-off television screen.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” I said, mostly to myself.

“I know, brother,” Jake said. It’s insane. I was just with her that night.”

That caught my attention. He took a long drink from his beer and then noticed me staring at him. He looked back me and then looked away quickly, a guilty expression on his face.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Look…Brandon,” he said “Georgia and I… Well, we were kinda…seeing each other.”

My first impulse was to grab him and throttle him until his legs stopped twitching. I probably would’ve done just that but when he looked at me, his eyes reflected how he felt about Georgia. There was real pain there. I took another drink of my beer, mostly to buy myself some calm-down time.

“You loved her.” I said. It wasn’t a question. The dam broke. Tears flooded down his face. He buried his face in his hands and began to weep. I put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“Did she love you?” I asked.

He nodded.

“We…we…we… were going to g…g…get m…m…married,” he said.

“Did my mom know? You know, about you two being together?”

He nodded again.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“We just got back together after a few months,” he said. “She’d finally forgiven me for…” He didn’t finish.

“For what…?”

He looked down at the floor, his face turning red.

“I cheated on her with Rachael Goodman. She found out about it and left me.”

That feeling of wanting to throttle him began to rise inside me again.

“Rachael Goodman?” I said; “her best friend?”

“Yeah,” he said, still looking at the floor. “We were at the same party and I guess I drank too much and passed out or something. The next day Rachael told Georgia that we’d slept together. I don’t remember any of it, but I found her underwear in my truck, so I guess that we probably did. Rachael was pretty pissed. She broke up with me on the spot and told me that she never wanted to see me again. I gave her space, you know? I didn’t try and get her back. I knew I fucked up. But then, you know, after Rachael’s funeral, we sort of, you know, we sort of were there for each other. Things just sort of fell back into place.”

I looked at him, surprised.

“Wait, what?” I said “Rachael died too?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s really weird, you know? She died in her sleep too.”

I sprung up from the sofa, grabbed my jacket and hit the door. I could see Jake standing on my mother’s lawn, waving his arms as I sped off down the street. He didn’t want to be there, not for this.

***

The cemetery appeared like any other cemetery that I’d ever seen…in a horror film. There was a mist creeping up from the ground, giving off a sinister vibe. It was hard to watch where I was stepping as I made my way to Georgia’s grave. I was hoping that the funeral house had lazy employees and that the hole wasn’t filled in already. I wasn’t disappointed. When I reached the site, the small, yellow land-mover was still sitting ten yards away from the still open grave. I pulled my silenced pistol from the small of my back and waited.

A little before ten, I heard the familiar sounds that I hoped would not come. A scratching, coming from inside Georgia’s coffin began as a light scraping sound, and then graduated to a full on, hunger-driven clawing. I stood at the edge of the grave and pointed the pistol downward. The dead are strong. Don’t believe the movies or the books about the undead. Any creature who could punch through the lid of a coffin is nothing to try and wrestle with. In my experience, it’s better to shoot them in the head before they even come remotely close to me. As Georgia tore her way through the lid of her coffin, I aimed and waited. When she finally created a hole large enough for her to sit up, I fixed my aim to the center of her forehead.

“I love you, sis,” I said. In response, she let out a long, wet, gurgling, scream and reached out toward me. I pulled the trigger. A dime-sized hole appeared on her forehead and she fell backward. Another scream came from behind me and I turned, but I turned a bit too late. A creature that I assumed was Rachael grabbed me by my arm and threw me to the ground. For the first time ever, I lost my grip on my pistol. It landed in the tall grass less than a yard away from me. Rachael fell on top of me, growling low and snapping her choppers together repeatedly like a shark. I grabbed her by the throat and held her up from me. The gun, I thought. Where the fuck did it land? I held her away from me with one hand and frantically groped around in the tall grass with the other, searching for the pistol – but like I said, the undead are strong. A single bit didn’t scare me. I’d been bitten enough times to know that the bites don’t spread the disease. It was something in the blood, I figured. What did scare me was being eaten alive. That would definitely ruin my day. She pressed against me until her open mouth was a mere two inches away from my nose. I used my gun-searching hand to punch her twice in the face, but I may as well have been punching a tree for all of the good it did me. Her cold, dead fingers locked around the back of my head and I saw her mouth open wide. She’s going to bite my nose off, I thought. She reared her head back and then forward, going in for the bite – I closed my eyes and waited.

There was a loud, cracking sound and then the weight disappeared from on top of me. I opened my eyes and saw Jake looming over me with a bat. He reached down and helped me get to my feet. I quickly began to search around for the pistol while he stood there, gaping down at Rachael, who was beginning to get up herself.

“What the fuck is going on?” He said.

Rachael got to her feet and slowly began walking toward Jake. Jake began to walk backward, bat ready to swing again.

“Dude,” he said. “Is that Rachael? What the fuck, man?”

Rachael swiped at him and he answered with another swing to her head. She fell sideways onto the ground.

“She’s dead,” Jake said. “No…no…no… She’s fucking dead.”

Rachael sat up again and looked at him, hungrily. Jake pulled back the bat, ready to crack her in the head again, but I’d found my pistol and put a round in her brain. She fell backward. She didn’t get back up that time.

“What the hell’s goin on?’ Jake asked me as I began to roll Rachael’s body to the open grave.

“Just help me,” I grunted. He did. Once we got her into the grave with Georgia, we stood at the edge of the rectangular pit and caught our breath.

“Was she…umm… was she some kind of fucking zombie, or something?” Jake asked.

“Yeah…”

“And Georgia?”

“Yeah…”

“Holy shit, man.”

“Yeah,” I said and then shot him in the head.

***

It took me the better part of the next hour to fill in the grave with the three bodies in it and the one that Rachael crawled out from. Thankfully, I had the earth-mover at my disposal, or else it would’ve taken much longer. When I was finished, I said a silent prayer over Georgia et al’s grave and then went back to my mother’s house to get cleaned up. I was feeling a pull to go north, maybe Nebraska. I didn’t wake my mother up, she needed her rest. When I was finished cleaning up and loading my car, I left my mother a note and set out. Just outside of town, I called Gus and briefed him on the night’s events.

“Holy shit…” he said. “And you’re sure that they all slept together?”

“No, “I corrected him. “They didn’t all sleep together. Jake slept with both of them and God knows who else. I’m beginning to think that this disease is sexually transmitted.”

Gus was silent for a moment, the said, “That’s a new one. It makes sense though. I’ll send it up the chain and let them sort it out. Good containment with this Jake guy too! I’ll be sure to note that in your jacket. ” He hung up without saying goodbye, as usual.

When the sun began to peer over the horizon, I was less than a hundred miles from the New Mexican border. Lincoln Nebraska felt like the place to be. The pull was stronger than usual, I noticed. It may be calling to more Preventers than me. If so, it would be nice to touch base with my own kind again. I pressed down on the gas a little harder. Something was telling me to hurry.

Faith Discovered

In her eyes,

I’ve seen love’s reflection

In her words,

I’ve heard the song of angels

In her arms,

I’ve felt God’s embrace

In her presence,

I’ve found religion

In her absence,

I’ve discovered faith

Excerpt from Mr. Morbus

In the sky, storm-clouds dance together, casting off electric spider-webs and rattling homes and store-fronts alike with its booming claps and sorrowful howls. On the ground, winds push their way through every open space, creating a symphony, complete with beating window shutters and whistling pipes. Even though nature’s orchestra is playing, the town of Brady Falls sleeps. The windows have been shuttered for the night and the people dream of other places – places without storms.

On Main and Cherry, a carriage works its way around the cobbled corner. The driver, donned in a black long-coat and matching, hat hunches over the reins. He turns onto Main Street and travels half a block at a snail’s pace, working his way against the wind. With a pull on the reins, he brings the carriage to a halt in front of a large building and dismounts. When he opens the side door of the vehicle, a tall figure steps out into the wind and rain and stands on the cobbled road, staring up into the flashing sky. Without turning around, the Tall Man holds up a wad of wet bills. The driver snatches them from the Tall Man’s hand and mounts the carriage. As the carriage pulls away, the tall man enters the building.

Inside the building, a row of handcrafted chairs line each side of the lobby. Intricate in design and finished to a gleaming shine, the chairs were upholstered in some kind of animal hide, dyed to look like a zebra’s coat. At the back of the lobby sat a long, unmanned, counter that looked to have been crafted by the same woodworker who created the chairs. A wicker basket containing a single envelope marked with ‘Mr. Morbus’ was sitting on the corner of the counter. The Tall Man picked up the envelope and slit it open with a single slash of his fingernail. He tilted the open envelope and a brass key with the number five engraved into it slid into his open palm. Holding the key up in front of his drawn-in, withered face with gnarled, dead-gray fingers, he smiles as a flash of lightening lights up his face. It’s a sunk-in face – smooth and dark and devoid of healthy flesh. His red eyes gleam maniacally as he begins to laugh.

Final Notice

The navy-blue upholstered sofa was littered with deep maroon splotches and sagging in the middle from the weight of the decaying corpse. The cushions appeared impossibly low to the floor, as if the dead weighed ten times more than the living. Circling around a face that was forever frozen in horror, small houseflies buzzed in circles before landing on a pale nose, a purple cheek, or an open eye.

In the kitchen, another body lay decomposing on the floor. Slightly longer in death, the uniformed cadaver’s nose sat even with the floor. With half of its head missing, it appeared to be trapped between this world and the one beneath the black and white, checkered linoleum. Beneath the dark-blue back of its pin-striped jacket, something moved, squirming. Still clutched in its outstretched hand, a crumpled yellow and blood-stained envelope sat littered with maggots that had tumbled out from the dark, cool, food-rich confines of a shirt sleeve.

In the master bathroom, a woman sat in front of a vanity running a brush through her silky black hair. Next, she applied the mascara, eye-shadow, and lipstick. Finished with her make-up, She stood in front of the mirror and pulled down her v-cut top, not a lot, just enough to expose her cleavage. Once satisfied with her appearance, she returned to the living-room and stared at the corpse on the sofa as if she was considering moving it. They’ve sent two already, she thought. One more to go – the final notice. Hanging just above an impossibly white fireplace, a hand-carved wooden clock chimed ten times. Ooh, she thought, I better hurry. She took once last look at the decaying body on the sofa, sighed deeply, and then went into the kitchen.

Knowing that her date or dates would be there at any moment, the woman reached under the oak dining table and slid out a small, white, plastic stepping stool. She carried the stool to refrigerator, sat it down in front of two wide, chrome double-doors, and then stepped onto it. Stretching as far as her short arms could manage, she slid her palm along the dusty surface of the refrigerator’s top. After a few trips back and forth, her fingers found what she was searching for. Smiling, she pulled down her deceased husband’s 9 mm Beretta and ejected the magazine. After seeing that the weapon was fully loaded, she slid the magazine back home and placed the pistol in the small of her back, tucked tightly into the waist-band of her brand new white skinny jeans.

The doorbell rang.

The woman approached the front door and peered out through the peep-hole. She could make out three faces and, beyond them, a police cruiser parked on the street. They’re here, she thought. It’s time. She reached behind her back, pulled the pistol free, and then looked back through the peephole. One man was wearing a black, two-piece suit, the two other two were wearing police uniforms. This must be my lucky day, she thought as she gripped the brass doorknob tightly and twisted.

Justice and Mating Collides (Part 1 Sampling)

Justice and Mating Collides (Part 1 Sampling).

Event Horizons

I sink into them

those perfect, brown, circular pools

I swirl around their edges

The black holes at the centers

catch me in their event horizons

They tear me apart

devour me

In an instant, I am gone

lost in a weightless void

I can’t breathe

I can’t see

I can’t speak

Then she looks away

and I am free

Break Free

Within a chamber, long forgot

the heart is bound and left to rot

years pass, feelings are wrought

in pain most severe

 

From another cell close by

the mind breaks free, begins to fly

the heart knows, it starts to cry

shedding its happy tears

Like So Much Rubbish

Into myself I sometimes wander

A quiet spot for me to ponder

why the world has cast me under

the feet of my enemies

For such things, there is no reason

The world is hard, one must be seasoned

to do whatever it takes to please them

those people who hold the keys

So,

I talk myself into trying again

I strike out boldly, determined to win

The world takes notice and that is when

they cast me aside like rubbish again

Final Rattle, by R.M. DuChene

O’ dark child

What festering sickness lies beyond your otherwise perfect lips?

It must be difficult to conceal the darkness that lies, just beneath your bright smile.

Just as hard is my task

to balance these feelings of joy from your touch

with the sucking void that is left in the wake of your words

 

Deeply wounded

I must traverse the unenlightened path to your heart

The road I walk is treacherous, but I must continue

I shall pull you from the darkness and thrust you into the light of the sun.

To pierce your heart is to pierce my own

So I will focus on he who ties your will to his own

 

I will break the bindings that imprison you

I will slay the master with his own sharp, pointed tongue

We will stand together at the twitching feet of the beast

bear witness to his death throes

watch the life drain from his eyes

and hear his final rattle