Vivika Widow's Blog, page 56

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Opening it’s doors this August. Knock, Knock is the highly anticipated graphic novel from Vivika Widow with visual direction from Leo St Paul.

Based on the hit blog series of the same name it shines a light on the darkest sides of humanity with a noir thriller edge. It contain some scenes that some guests may find disturbing so please be warned this is for adult readers only.

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Red Crown: (Episode 20) Red Snow

Into the pot the blood of five men was poured. This was followed by the tears of their grieving widows and the eyeballs that shed them. A new life was coming and their strength would be five fold.

The heart of a fawn – pure and fresh – was added to the mix along with the skin of a snake. The smell was pungent and strong. Annabelle stopped. If she drank it herself she could have it all. Even Francesca, the greatest supreme witch her people had ever seen couldn’t stop her. She almost put the ladle to her lips and tasted but she stopped herself. The child would grow and their unstoppable need to take Francesca’s place would consume them. Annabelle could wait. It would be more poetic that way. They would destroy her the way Francesca did her parents and her brother. They say that each generation gets stronger. Annabelle was positively salivating at the thought of what the baby could grow to be capable of.

Muffled screams disturbed her thoughts. The woman was crying again. At least what was left of her. Her left arm was gone and her right leg below the knee. Her torso was badly torn.

“Shut up!” Annabelle barked feeling a little disgruntled at being drawn from her day dream. “I’ll be done with you soon enough. I’m waiting on this blasted oven heating up.”

The woman sobbed. What conscience Annabelle had didn’t extend to strangers . She had taken an interest in the royal baby though. It could be the answer to the curse that followed her. The baby would be with them that night.

***

The moon was fat. Francesca’s screams of birthing pain echoed through the castle. Nurses ran back and forth bringing more warm, wet towels. As the queen gave birth the nurses were granted more authority than the king. They gave the instructions and Roman could only stand idly by and wait for news.

It all fell quiet. Vasinov had taken the king’s responsibilities that evening but Roman wished he had his closest friend by his side to guide him through the anxious waiting. His heart thumped against the wall of his chest. it had been a long time since he felt like such a helpless boy. it had been a number of years now since he felt he was no longer master of his own castle.

The screams fell silent. A nurse finally emerged from the queen’s chambers.

“You may come in, Your Majesty,” she said. The entire front of her pale blue dress was covered in blood.

Roman floated in a dream towards the new life that awaited and the person he felt he knew so well without having ever met.

Doctor Hogran wore the widest grin of pride. It was a deviation from his usual professional stoicism.

“A prince is born,” Francesca said.

Wrapped in the same blanket he was given as an infant the king was handed his son.

“A future king,” Roman beamed.

He sat on the bed beside his wife. the doctor left him alone and cleared the room of the nurses.

“The greatest ruler this kingdom will ever know,”

The pale skinned baby with the beginnings of coal black hair already had the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders. His climb to the throne would not be so easy.

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Red Crown: (Episode 19) Evil Burns

The afternoon wore on to a warmer day. Despite the chill in the air the sun stood strong, fending off the snowy assaults.

Roman and his hunting party made their way through the woods taking care not to leave the kingdom too far behind.

Vasinov rode close beside his cousin. They spoke jovially as they travelled. The rest of the party lingered behind them.

“The pending arrival of the royal baby has the entire kingdom rejoicing,” Vasinov was saying. There was a smile on his face and a redness in his cheeks.

“It will be nice to have a little prince or princess around,” the king mused.

“What will become of Charles?” Vasinov asked.

Roman drew his cousin a most bemused glare.

“What do you mean?”

Vasinov considered his words carefully. “I’m sure he features warmly in your heart but your own children will steal focus, won’t they?”

“I will always have place for Charles,” Roman assured. “I would do a disservice to his mother’s memory otherwise.”

Roman who had been distraught at Natalya’s death had spoken of it less and less over the years. Vasinov knew of Charles’ true parentage. He knew he could speak frankly to his cousin so there was no reason why the king would disguise it. It was almost like he had forgotten.

“I’ll take care of my nephew as though he were my own child,” Roman mumbled, concentrating on what lay ahead of him.

“Of course, Your Majesty. Your paternal prowess is astounding.”

Roman stopped suddenly. He climbed from the grey mare he rode and started to make his way into the forest.

“Perhaps the guard should go first, Your Majesty?” Vasinov called.

Roman looked back over his shoulder and put his finger to his lip. Vasinov halted the rest of the party. They remained stationed as the black cloak of the king delved further into darkness, assuming he had found suitable prey.

There was a fire burning. Roman could hear the birds call mingle with the crushing of leaves under foot. The trees as he progressed further became more twisted and their wood darker. He came a cliff. At the bottom was an opening to a cave. The light from a fire danced across the forest floor. Roman drew his sword and approached. He assumed it was someone lost. and he didn’t want to frighten them.

The fire that had been built filled almost the entire space the cave afforded. Roman’s eyes blurred at first as he waved the smoke away from his face. He noticed then the body of a man lying on the ground. It was almost like he was sleeping except his face was contorted into an expression of terror. His skin all over his body had been removed leaving but a carcass of muscle and ligaments.

“Don’t worry about him,” a voice from the opposite side of the fire said. “He was a rapist and a thief” It was a soft feminine voice with the musical accent found in the villages surrounding the kingdom.

“Did you do that to him?” asked Roman.

“I had to. I told you, he was a rapist and a thief.”

Roman reached out his foot and with the toe of his leather boot he moved the body over onto it’s back.

“If he hurt you he should have been punished by law,” the king stated.

“I only abide by one law and it reaches much higher than any man has made. I follow a higher law only I am powerful to enforce. Even a king is subject to that law.”

She must have guessed his position because Roman wore no crown on his mess of brown curls that day. His cloak bore no sign of his station.

“What is your name?” Roman moved around the fire. The woman was naked. Her back was turned to him. She was hunched in the shadows.

“Elidh. At least that was what they called me before.”

“Are you a witch?” Roman couldn’t help but ask. The skinning of the man had been so thorough she either had tremedous skill or supernatural powers.

“I am no witch,” said the wretched creature with absolute sincerity. “I am something much worse.”

“If you were hurt by this man I don’t want to arrest you but I can take you to shelter and safety,” Roman offered.

The creature moved a little. Roman stood his ground.

“I told you, I obey no man, not even a king. You should leave because I smell it on you too”

Roman asked, “smell what?”

“Evil.”

Roman was astounded at the word.

“I am a good man,” he insisted.

“Everyone has the smell of evil on them,” said the creature. “It is strong with you. The scent of goodness you have is overwhelmed by the foul stench of letting the woman you love die and denying your child.”

Roman became impatient with the creature. “Who are you?” he growled.

“Hangram!” hissed the creature as she dived at Roman with long, claw like fingers. A long tongue protruded from her mouth. She knocked the king to the ground and tried to sink her sharp teeth into the flesh of his face. He managed to kick her off him. He ran for the entrance of the cave almost tripping over the skinned body. At the entrance he was met by Vasinov.

“What happened?” he asked.

Roman was struggling for breath. He pulled his cousin back to the hunting party. When he was out of danger he began to laugh. He leaned on Vasinov’s shoulder and continued to catch his breath.

“You would never believe me if I told you,” he claimed.

The guard were sent in search of the creature but she wasn’t found. They burned the skinned body and made their way back to the castle. By then the sun had fallen behind the mountains and the bitter cold was beating the sun into submission.

“It’s not a witch we have on our hands,” said Roman. “It’s a mad woman.”

The outline of the grey castle loomed as they approached.

“Perhaps it is both,” Vasinov surmised.

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Red Crown: (Episode 18) Sins Buried Deep

“You’re ill, my love!?” Roman had come in a panic when he learned the queen had not left bed that morning.

“I’m just a little tired,” she explained.

“I will cancel the hunt at once!” he said but Francesca called him back.

“Don’t be foolish. I will be fine. Enjoy your hunt and I will take care of our child.”

Roman kissed her and as he did so his hand rested on her swollen womb.

“This child will be the greatest ruler Navaria has ever seen,” he commented.

“Which is why I must rest,” Francesca scorned playfully. “Go hunt. I have Annabelle to keep me company.”

The king turned to the Queen’s confidante and took her hand in his. The king’s touch was warm but rough.

“You’re quite a treasure, Annabelle,” he said. “I don’t know where my queen would be without you.”

Annabelle bowed her head but kept his gaze. “Neither do I,” she replied.

She enjoyed watching the humour dance across his face and settle in his warm, brown eyes. He laughed and Annabelle joined him.

“She is a feisty one, isn’t she?” remarked the king to the queen.

Francesca pursed her lips. “Yes, she has me laughing all day long,” she said sarcastically.

Roman continued laughing but Annabelle simmered back down to a smile.

“Now go hunt or this child will be born and raised before you return.”

Roman offered his heavily pregnant wife a tender kiss. Before leaving the room he kissed Annabelle’s hand.

“This child will be with us soon,” Francesca pointed out. “We have to be prepared.”

“I’ll bury the remains at that tree in the garden,” replied Annabelle. “The crooked one.”

“Hurry,” instructed Francesca. “Try not to arouse too much suspicion. Neither of us have the energy to protect ourselves.”

“Drenisov is still chasing his tail,” Annabelle reminded her mistress. “He wouldn’t know a real witch if she was close enough to bite off his tongue.”

It didn’t lighten the queen’s spirits. She shook her head.

“Whilst his eyes are focused elsewhere,” she said, “you will fetch everything my child needs.”

Annabelle said nothing more. She left Francesca with a nurse whilst she dealt with her macabre task.

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Red Crown (Episode 17): The Boy Lives

The wheels of the carriage rumbled across the rough terrain that led to The Hand. Annabelle travelled alone. She didn’t ask the driver’s name. She didn’t interact with him at all. She didn’t see the point of doing so. King Roman always took time with his drivers. He knew most of the staff at the castle by name and could even go so far as to ask about their children and other relatives. Those who didn’t know he soon learned. Annabelle was just glad to have some time alone. Her whole life had become caught in a storm since following Francesca and leaving their old life behind. Now she was tasked with killing the young child. She didn’t care if Charles grew up and replaced any children Francesa bore the king. Why should she? It wasn’t as if Francesca would allow that to happen anyway.

“He is my gift to you,” Francesca had said. She wasn’t wrong. Children so young were full of pure energy. Annabelle had been deteriorating of late and the flesh and blood of one so young would replenish her strength. Perhaps maybe even make her stronger than Francesca herself. Keeping safe at the castle had weakened the supreme witch.

Lady Millicent Harrington had been appointed Charles’ ward until he came of age and was able to control The Hand himself. She had already taken a special interest in the little boy. She was a close friend of Natalya – the boy’s mother – and they had shared a dream of pairing her daughter, Margaret with Charles in marriage. She spotted the carriage with the Royal coat of arms approach. She brought herself to the door to greet, beaming with pride. Her expression soured to stoic when it was Annabelle who removed herself from the carriage and not the king.

“An unexpected pleasure,” said Lady Harrington. “Welcome to The Hand.”

She couldn’t disguise her disappointment but she offered Annabelle the proper cordiality as a confidant of the queen.

“I’m here to see Charles,” Annabelle explained quickly, unable to bare the formalities her new post demanded of her.

Lady Harrington pursed her lips and became colder still.

“His Grace is not receiving guests.”

Annabelle frowned. “Not receiving guests?” she repeated. “He’s three years old! Sit him at a table and make him see me.”

Lady Harrington’s sharp features sparked like thunder.

“He may be young, miss, but he is still Lord of the Hand and the Count of Hargov.”

Annabelle rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to get anywhere unless she played some of the formalities.

“I am at the behest of Her Majesty, Queen Francesca. She is keen on me reporting on the health and well being of her beloved nephew.”

Lady Harrington eyed her suspiciously. The king’s new bride had never shown any interest in Charles. However, if the queen requested it she couldn’t refuse.

“Very well,” groaned the noble woman. She turned and made her way to the tallest of the five towers that made up The Hand. “Follow me,” she barked.

Annabelle followed on. Portraits of Countess Natalya were still hanging. There was another woman too who looked a great deal like her. Annabelle assumed it to be Natalya’s mother.

Annabelle was led to a large study. It was empty except for the black marble fireplace which was stocked well with wood and burning happily, and a large table at which, in a red wing back chair sat a small boy with Roman’s dark curls and warm eyes. He had been playing with wooden soldiers. He stopped the moment he saw Annabelle standing over him.

“A lady from the castle to see Your Grace,” announced Lady Harrington.

Charles stared back at Annabelle with eyes full of life but without acknowledgement.

“I’ll just see to the staff before I leave,” Lady Harrington dismissed herself.

“I knew your mother,” Annabelle said to the toddler.

Charles was still unsure of her. She leaned over the table and tapped his forehead so he could communicate more clearly.

“You frighten me,” the boy told her in a voice only she could hear.

“I should frighten you,” Annabelle said. “I’m here to kill you.”

The boys lips parted but he didn’t scream, nor did he cry.

“You can’t kill me,” the boy’s mind told the witch with all the self assurance of an adult. “I’m Lord of the Hand.”

Annabelle smiled. “That means nothing to me,” she said.

Charles was frozen in fear. Annabelle’s face wasn’t like it had been before, handsome and framed with cherry gold locks. It was longer, the mouth wider and full of malice. Still Charles didn’t scream. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway.

“Get out of here. I will have you burned!” the little boy’s mind insisted. He showed such resilience for one so young. Annabelle was impressed. Her need to feed battled with her conscience.

The boy was Roman’s flesh and blood and although he would forget him entirely in time it was Annabelle’s affection for the king that stayed her hand that day.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Annabelle felt the presence of Francesca behind her. She turned to find the queen carrying a self satisfied grin. Charles was silent. He stared at the both of them with wide, mistrusting eyes but he didn’t move from his chair. He didn’t make a sound.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Francesca repeated when she noticed Annabelle showed no signs of relenting.

“He was my gift. You said …” Annabelle protested. “I need flesh and blood. I can’t protect you when I am weakened so.”

Francesca clicked her fingers. The little boy fell forward and was fast asleep on the table. His toy soldiers fell to the floor.

“It occurred to me,” the raven haired witch began. “My child will need flesh and blood to grow strong too. Not only will they be the ruler of this kingdom but they will be Premier of our own people. They will need to be strong. This boy is of good stock. He is of Roman’s own seed so my child will have a plentiful supply of strength.”

“None of our people remain. What exactly would the child be Premiere of?” Annabelle asked.

Francesca’s smile widened. Her blue eyes sparked.

“You’re still here aren’t you?” she remarked.

Annabelle rolled her eyes. “If I am all they have to rule over that is a sorry excuse for a Premiere.”

Francesca laughed. “We’ll build our numbers again.”

They left the boy asleep. Annabelle wondered if Francesca hadn’t come would she still have gone through with it? Would she have killed Charles? One thing she knew for certain was she should have killed him. The fate that Francesca had planned for him was much worse.

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Members Eat For Free

Amber was thrilled. She had never been anywhere quite like the Knock, Knock club before. She was only seventeen so when the doorman stepped aside to allow her in she was exhilarated.

An invitation had come through the post. Her father was Mayor of the city so he was invited to all sorts of places. She brought the handsome Kevin with her. He was ten years her senior and she was sure Lacey – her elder sister – certainly wouldn’t approve. Lacey wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like the Knock, Knock club. She had aspirations of taking their father’s office one day. Being seen in the Knock, Knock club and with the characters that frequented wouldn’t fit Lacey’s picture. Amber was more daring though. She fell in love with the club instantly. Even with the smell of stale beer and sticky floors. The neon flashing lights and empty stage excited her.

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“You folks are looking a little lost.”

Amber felt a long arm slip around her shoulders. The sleeve of the man’s well tailored suit brushed against her.

“We’re new,” Amber said lowering her head so the man wouldn’t notice how young she was. She and Kevin were led to a table for two close to the stage.

“Since you’re first timers you can have be best seat in the house.”

Kevin seated himself first. The club manager pulled Amber’s chair out for her, swinging it slightly so she could have a better view of the stage.

“My name is Dennis,” he announced. “I’ll send someone to take care of you but if you need anything give me a shout.” He said this directly to Amber.

Amber smiled, forgetting her caution under the lower lights. Dennis held her gaze. The manager role slipped momentarily and a brief flash of concern showed. Dennis was older than Kevin but much better looking.

“Times must be tough in this city if this dump is the place to bring a pretty girl,” Dennis jested.

Amber giggled. Kevin was not amused.

“Enjoy the show.”

The lights dimmed further. An in house band called the Knock, Knockers gathered at their instruments.

A woman walked onto stage. The chatter quietened.

“Good evening,” the woman introduced. She walked across the stage with all the ease she would have in her own home. “I see a lot of familiar faces out there,” she continued in a husky voice. “You would think you would be sick of our lousy food by now but we love having you,”

The audience reacted in good cheer.

“You didn’t come to listen to me spill my guts so let’s get started.”

She moved back from the edge of the stage in dance steps. The music fired up. The ground began to vibrate. The performer erupted into song.

A scantily clad serving girl brought them a watered down whiskey each and some meat and gravy. It wasn’t much but since the financial recession had hit the Shady City it was better than most people had that night. Kevin moved his meat around his plate with a disapproving sneer.

Amber was too busy watching the performance to eat. She was too busy enjoying herself to consider that her father – the mayor – had been responsible for the desperation so many people found themselves in. It was fine for Amber to enjoy the Knock, Knock when afterwords she could return to the large house she lived in in the Upper West. So many of the city didn’t have homes to go to.

When the performance finally ended the band changed their music to something a little more down key. The lights brightened, informing the patrons that it was time to leave. The performer came from backstage to mingle. She was wearing the same red dress. Her hair hung loosely around her pretty face. She stood at the bar with Dennis holding a gin and tonic, poured in a square glass. Kevin was impatient to leave but Amber wanted to meet the woman.

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Her back was turned. She was in deep conversation with Dennis when Amber approached shyly. The manager notified her of Amber’s presence with a flick of his head. The performer turned. She greeted Amber with a grin. There was a large gap between her front teeth that offered her a girlish quality.

“It was my first time here,” Amber said. Under the woman’s gaze she found herself quite nervous. “I really enjoyed your performance.”

“Thank you,” replied the performer sounding a little exasperated. She turned to Dennis. “Who is this?”

“I would love to be just like you,” Amber blurted with childish awe, snatching her hand.

Tabitha laughed. Dennis remained stoic.

“Oh honey, there will only ever be one of me.” She pulled Amber closer to her. “Amber Feltz, right?” The Mayor’s youngest daughter?”

Amber tried to pull away but Tabitha kept a tight grip on her arm.

“I should go,” Amber tried pulling away again.

The club was clearing quickly and none of the patrons seemed to notice she was being held.

“So soon?” Tabitha asked. Her crimson nails started to dig into Amber’s flesh. “Join me for a drink won’t you?”

Amber was pushed onto a bar stool. Tabitha stared at her closely.

“It’ll have to be water for you though. You are too young for the hard liquor from what I read.”

Amber sobbed. Tabitha’s grin widened.

“Don’t worry.” Tabitha put her hand to her mouth as though speaking secretly. “Who am I to judge?” She turned to Dennis. “You like them young, don’t you?”

Dennis shook his head.

“I have to go,” Amber said. “Kevin is waiting.”

It wasn’t until then the mayor’s daughter realised Kevin had gone for their coats quite some time ago and hadn’t returned.

The door man closed the door on the last of the customers and left without a word. The club was now empty but for the manager, the performer and the mayor’s daughter.

“Please! I have to go,” Amber pleaded once more.

These were the situations she had been warned of. These people were the reason Lacey would never come to places like the Knock, Knock club.

“People will be looking for me.”

Tabitha leaned in close to her.

“Honey,” she said. “If you expect anyone to give a rat’s ass where you are right now you have come to the wrong club.

***

Amber was taken to a small room away from the club’s main floor. There were no windows in it and the lamp gave an irritatingly yellow glow. There was a plate on the table covered with a white handkerchief.

“What would your father say if we didn’t give you our best hopsitality?” asked Tabitiha.

Amber felt hands on her shoulders. Her gaze was focused on the covered plate. She was pushed down onto a small wooden chair. Tabitha pulled the handkerchief away. On the plate, basted in blood was Kevin’s hand. She recognised it instantly. Her stomach lurched.

“Take a bite,” Tabitha urged with a wicked laugh. “The food here is lousy but we do our best.”

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Amber could try to run but she would feel silly for doing so. She was a silly teenager. A silly girl indeed. Suddenly the club that was so fascinating at first was Hell on earth, with its echo and it’s filthy, empty hall.

***

“She was missing for three weeks!” Sam Crusow gasped. He held a pad of yellow paper on his lap with a pen poised over it. “The police never said anything. When the mayor disappeared did noone thing to say, ‘Oh and his daughter has been gone a few weeks too.”

Eric Waddle, editor of the Coldford Daily crossed his arms over his chest. He glared at his best reporter.

“I’m warning you Sammy.” he said. “None of these details will be printed in my paper. If I see them elsewhere I will hold you responsible.”

Sam nodded hesitantly. He hated when his boss called him Sammy.

Eric went on. “I only tell you this because I’m a friend of the family and I want you to tread carefully. Mrs Feltz is speaking to noone else.

“How am I to cover the story when I can’t publish all the facts. How could no one care about a seventeen year old girl missing?

Eric ignored his first comment. “Amber always was an impulsive girl,” he replied to the second. “She was seeing some older guy. She’s probably sunning herself on a beach somewhere.”

“Do you believe that?” Sam put to the editor.

He didn’t.

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Like A Boss!

She has a tight grip on everything in Shady City. She won’t let anyone step on her toes.

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No Toys In The Attic

She smelled the air. It all felt so brand new to her. It was almost like she hadn’t sampled the scent of the city before.

“You have a whole new life ahead of you peaches,” said Dennis.

He always called her peaches. He said it was because it was how her hair smelled. Dennis was the only person that had ever been nice to her. Even her parents disliked her. Her dad called her a retard. Her mother could barely look at her when her sister was so much smarter, so much more beautiful. Dennis had rescued her. He had climbed the tower of the Pinnacle Institute and carried her away. The doctors had told her she was sick. She didn’t feel sick. They called it intellectual disability but when the doctors backs were turned the nurses called her an idiot or a simpleton. All she knew was that she didn’t think about things the way people seemed to want her to and it made them mad. She was twenty years old but she remained locked in her childish imagination. Her parents didn’t love her but she still loved them and her pretty sister. They didn’t want want her in the home so when the doctor called and told them she had conduct disorder they locked her away in the hospital and didn’t want to see her any more.

Dennis came to see her though. He came to see her all the time and he smiled for her and he was so handsome. He held her and comforted her and she never wanted to leave. One day he came to her and told her he had rescued her from the nasty hospital and was taking her home.

Chloe knew she was lucky. She was the luckiest girl alive.

Dennis took her to a place called the Knock, Knock Club. He told her she would have to earn her keep and she was okay with that. He had rescued her so she didn’t want to upset him.

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The first few nights at the Knock, Knock club were quiet. A woman who worked behind the bar befriended her. She was kind to Chloe and as Chloe stood with an empty tray in her hand the bar maid told her that if she needed any help to come find her. One of the members of the band that played at the club smiled at her. He shook her hand and introduced himself. He was a black man with a wide smile and he made her smile too.

At the end of the night the club began to clear. It was late. It was a lot later than she would normally have been awake. At the hospital they always told her she had be in her bed and asleep by ten o’clock. At the Knock, Knock club she had no bedtime.

After the club has cleared Dennis came to her.

“How was the first night?” he asked.

Chloe hid her tired eyes behind an excited smile. “It was fun,” she said. “I liked it.”

Dennis wrapped his arm around her. She felt so safe by his side.

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “I have something more for you.”

Chloe was tired but she didn’t want to make Dennis sad so she feigned enthusiasm.

“What is it?”

Dennis tightened his grip. Now they were walking up the stairs to the upper floors of the club. He was leading her to the room she could have. It didn’t smell as clean as the hospital but she would love it all the same.

“I have new friends for you who want to visit your room,” he said. “They want to give you special cuddles.”

Chloe was confused. She had heard of special cuddles before but she always thought those were between a mother and a father.

“Do I have to?” she asked.

Dennis stopped. At first his expression was blank but then his teeth were bared and his eyes brightened. He rested a hand under her chin and petted his lip.

“You don’t want to be selfish do you? You want more friends like me wouldn’t you?”

Chloe lowered her gaze. He didn’t like the way he was looking at her. She didn’t want her to be angry with him.

“I guess,” she said.

“I can tell them all that you don’t want to be friends with them and want special cuddles,” he said but his voice sounded upset.

“No please!” she grabbed his arm. “I can be friends with them too.”

Dennis smiled. He was happy again. He ran his finger gently down her cheek. Her heart beat a little faster.

“As long as I am always your best friend.”

Chloe agreed. She agreed to have lots of new friends but Dennis would always remain her best.

That night the first of the new friends visited her room. They were mostly men much older than her. She let them undress her and gave them the special cuddles whichever way they asked her to. At first she didn’t mind. Sometimes she even enjoyed it. As time went on it became more frequent. It even became painful. She didn’t like the new friends any more and she certainly didn’t like them leering at her naked, helpless body.

One came to her room. He wasn’t kind to her. He barely spoke to her. She let him into her room and immediately he pulled off his shirt revealing an obese, middle aged body. He pushed her onto the bed with such first she cried out. Her head hit the wooden bed frame and she began to cry.

“Leave me, leave me, leave me!” she repeated over and over again but the man took no notice. He was not a new friend.

“Shut up!” he spat on her. “I’ve paid good money so you will do what you’re fucking told!” he screamed at her.

She was frightened. She tried to climb out from underneath him but she couldn’t get away. He held her hands above her head. He kissed her but all she could do was continue to cry. She called for Dennis but he didn’t come to rescue her this time. She couldn’t wriggle away so she had to just let him have what he wanted.

“You need to get a hold of your girls,” complained the client to Dennis as he handed over a thick pile of bank notes. “That one gave me some trouble.”

“I’ll have a talk with her.”

“I’ll be back,” he warned. “Get it together or I will let Miss T know what you are doing behind her back.” He growled. “You remember what happened to Rex. They are still looking for it …”

Dennis shook his arm playfully. “Come on,” he said. “We’re all friends here. I’ll have a talk to her. She’s just a little overworked.”

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Dennis found Chloe in her bed. She was clutching white sheets to her. The area over her lap was blood stained. Dennis sat on the bed beside her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her. Chloe fell onto his shoulder sobbing. “I thought you liked giving special cuddles.”

She didn’t want to upset him. He was the knight that had come to rescue her like in the story books. He had taken her away from that horrible hospital and loved her when her own parents didn’t.

“I do like special cuddles,” she said. Her teary eyes were still wide and unfocused. “I love them and I will give more if you want me to.”

Dennis patted her back.

“Good girl.”

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Play the Game (Tales from Shady City)

Andre Luis was the best striker his old club – Luen – had ever had. The fans adored him and he had brought his team to the most trophies in the club’s history so it was a surprise for him when he received a phone call from his agent telling him he was being transferred to Coldford City.

He had lived all of his life in Luen. It was a temperate climate, a familiar culture and all his favourite night clubs were close by.

The moment he arrived in Coldford he realised why it was called ‘Shady City’. Thick heavy clouds hung in the sky. Rain was imminent. He pushed the sun glasses up onto the top of his head and let them rest in the thick mop of blonde hair. He groaned. The driver navigated through a labyrinth of tall, grey buildings to the centre where Coldford City Stadium was located. He drew a his phone out of his pocket. He pressed the speed dial button he kept his agent on.

“Yes Jean,” answered the bright and cheery voice of sport’s agent, Rick Gunn. “How are you settling in.”

“Settling in? I’m not even there yet. I didn’t like this city when I was here last and I don’t like it better now.” Andre Luis had a thick French accent but he spoke excellent English.

Rick laughed. “She doesn’t look like much but there is a lot of opportunities for you in Shady City. See the stadium, sign the paperwork. You’ll feel at home soon enough.”

Andre Luis was still not appeased. “The food at the airport was terrible, the weather is terrible and the apartment you set me up with won’t be ready until five. What am I to do until then?”

Rick had been dealing with diva soccer players for years and Andre Luis was one of his major clients.

“You will love the city once you get to know her. Coldford City have been making major headway in the Super League. A season or two with them could even mean a golden boot for you. Trust me.”

That was Rick’s catch phrase. Trust me.

“Fine,” Andrei Luis ended the call abruptly. He pulled the sun glasses back down onto his nose and folded his arms across his chest.

He had been the greatest player ever to grace the pitch of Luen but one prize always escaped him. He had dreamt of the golden boot ever since he was a boy. If that could be his then the move to Coldford City wouldn’t be so bad after all. The night life in Shady City was also meant to be legendary.

***

Coldford City stadium was larger than he remembered from the last time played there with Luen.

Press were waiting. He waved to them as he climbed out of the car but kept the sunglasses on. One reporter – auburn haired, tall and in his early thirties – pushed to the front. He waved a dictaphone underneath the soccer star’s mouth.

“Sam Crusow from the Daily,” he announced proudly. “How do you feel about joining Coldford City?”

Andre Luis removed the sun glasses and spied the press badge he wore around his neck. He was holding a scarf with the blue and black colouring of the team.

“It’s an honour for me to play for such a prestigious club with such great supporters,” he said. He flashed a smile for the photographers.

The press erupted into the vulture like cries with more questions but Andre Luis waved them off. The chairman – Alex Grover – was waiting for him at the executive entrance to the stadium.

“There will be time for questions later,” he told the press. Andre Luis was led inside.

Alex shook his hand enthusiastically.

“We’re really excited to see what you can bring to the team, Jean,” he gushed. “We’ll get some of the paperwork out of the way and you can meet our manager.”

“He is a young manager, yes? Little experience?” Andre Luis asked as he observed his new surroundings. The executive suites had been recently refurbished. Given the generous salary Rick managed to negotiate for him it was clear they had received a recent investment. Andre Luis tucked the leg of the sunglasses into the collar of his shirt. “I should like to know what plans he has for the team,” he added.

He stopped at the trophy cabinets. Coldford City had the most trophies in local competitions. They were regular fixtures in the Super League which pit the best teams in the world against each other. There was a golden boot winner in the city but the trophy belonged across the street to rivals Coldford Dynamo and their own star striker, Samuel Connelly.

Later that afternoon, Andre Luis was in the changing rooms he would call home. He had pulled on one of the shirts to prepare for the official press conference.

“I should like ninety nine as my number,” Andre Luis had instructed the young girl who was taking his kit requirements. “I always wear number ninety nine.”

A woman came into the room. She wasn’t staff nor was she press. Andre Luis stood.

“I don’t think you should be in here,” he protested.

The woman’s painted red lips curled into a smile.

“Don’t get excited,” she said. “Sit down.”

Andre Luis found himself obeying.

“My name is Tabitha and I like to keep a firm eye on what is going on here. My night club is something of an unofficial sponsor.”

She sat on the bench beside him. Andre stretched out his long legs.

“In tough times like these people still need to be entertained. You my friend are quite entertaining.” She reached out and playfully pushed his nose.

“By coming to the city you will make this area thrive again and that makes me very happy.”

Andre Luis drew his hand along her thigh.

“And you wish to show your appreciation? Is that it?”

Tabitha laughed. It was a cold laughter, like she knew something he didn’t. She pulled her leg away and stood again.

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “But the girls at my club would be sure to make you feel welcome.”

She reached into the pocket of the fawn coloured coat she wore and produced a business card. It had the words KNOCK KNOCK CLUB on it. The logo was the fame of two women silhouetted in white.

“Part of our sponsorship means you play well when we need you to, very well when you asked and play not so when when the situation calls for it.”

“You mean throw a game?”enquired the footballer. He had done so once or twice with Luen for the right pay although he would never admit it.

Tabitha grinned. Her front teeth had a gap between them so that gave her a girlish quality.

“Only when we need you to.”

She took his arm and pulled him onto his feet.

“I read in the news that you have some special little appetites. You appreciate a – shall we say – dominant woman.”

Andre Luis’ eyes widened. It had been all over the press in Luen when the police had raided on of his favourite clubs and they found him in a compromising position with a prostitute armed with a whip. It had been one of the reasons Rick sought out the move for him.

Tabitha grinned again and suddenly her gap toothed smile seemed more animalistic than girlish.

“I’m not judging. You could prove to be quite a valuable asset so I want to make you as happy as I can.”

“Your club,” he hesitated trying to find the proper words in English. “They cater for that sort of thing?”

Tabitha linked her arm through his and started to lead him towards the door.

“They will cater for all of your little desires. The weirder the better,” she said. “If you bring as much of the old cash as Alex seems to think you will then my girls will do whatever you like. Just try not to get yourself injured.”

She pulled the door open for him and they stepped out into the corridor.

“But only of you are a good boy so go and do you little press dance, sign the papers and I’ll have a nice little reception waiting for you at Knock, Knock after your first game on Saturday.”

Tabitha left the soccer player with Alex. When they were alone he asked, “who is that woman?”

Does she own the team?”

Alex lowered his head. “Something like that,” he replied. “Did she invite you to Knock, Knock?”

“She did.”

“If you really want to get to know Shady City then that is the best place to start.”

Star striker Jean Andre Luis did visit the Knock, Knock club, He learned that in Shady City on and off the pitch it is more than a game.

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