Violet Sky

dark-dawn

This was the dusk Slate had been waiting for. He sat on top of the hill, taking sips of pure dark rum from his silver canteen. All around him the forest and lake were settling down for the night. He could hear the calls of birds and wild animals echoing. The wind rocking the trees and the lapping sounds of the lake.

Slate swirled the rum around his mouth. Enjoying the dark warm spices, before swallowing. It had been expensive, but worth it. The sea pirates always had the best stuff, even though trading with them was a high risk. He won’t go anyway else now though for his precious drink.

He slipped the canteen into the inside pocket of his black leather duster coat then slowly withdrew his gun. The thing was an antique; all silver, gold and wood, but it had been super modified. It was a double barreled, electrical generator, quick fire baby. With one finger, Slate lovingly stroked down the gun’s left side as if it was the leg of a beautiful woman.

‘Your the only lady I need at my side,’ he purred to the gun.

He almost pressed the side of one of the barrels to his cheek, but stopped himself. Something was shaking the trees below and the forest had fallen eerily silent. The last of the sun’s pink and burnt orange streaks give just enough light for him to see the creature taking form.

His breath caught in his throat for just a moment, then he quietened his breathing as much as possible. Switching his gun hands, he brought his right hand up to the machine that covered that eye. It was a complex mechanism of microscopes, colored glass, cogs and many moving pieces. He moved the settings around so that his biogenetic eye could see. He shut his other eye and focused solely on the scene below him.

Straight away, it seemed he was down there and meeting the creature eye to eye. He drew back a little, being gentle with the sensitive controls. He saw the full view and that the creature was the demon he had been tracking for months. Slate smiled. He had always known tonight was the night.

Slipping his gun away, he drew his canteen out again and took a mouthful. He swallowed, relishing the taste before putting it back. Slate got his eye piece to map the best way to go then set off. He walked carefully, but with purpose and tried not to be loud. Yet the forest was against him in this because it was all ready late autumn. Dry leaves and twigs crunched and cracked under his heavy platform boots. Bare branches snatched at him, snagging on his long hair and coat. He knew being the second only thing moving between the trees didn’t help this noise.

However, Slate was there fast enough and standing on a high ridge looking down into a ancient bomb crater. The demon was below him and it was breathtaking. It seemed to be the skeleton of a giant rhino. The bones were all ice white and joined together with a stretchy grey skin, which looked fragile, but was as tough as steel.

The rhino turned its head up as if sensing something and Slate got his first look at the monster’s face. It was extremely rhino like; with two large horns coming off the top of the snout which looked like the tops of snow cover mountains, the wide face and large ears. The huge nostrils flared and the eyes that rose to meet his were pitch black.

Slate grabbed his gun and fired. The silver bullet ripped through the night, shattering the pause that had held the forest. A tail of red and blue light followed it then here was an explosion of sound and electricity.

The demon screamed and roared in one. It reared up and tried to charge out of the crater.

Slate fired again and kept going in quick secession. There was no other way to bring this thing down. Luckily, he had been packing special bullets for this hunting mission. Keeping his focus, he aimed for the head area, knowing soon he’d hit an eye and get into the brain.

The demon rhino had started to bleed out thick black blood, but it was showing no signs of slowing down. It kept trying to plough up the side of the grassy slop, however there was very little grip for it’s smooth flat feet and heavy bulk. With a might cry, it changed tactics and threw itself head first at the side of the crater.

Slate felt the earth shake from under him. He reached out to grab the trunk of a nearby tree. His hand brushed it then he was falling. His feet slide down and he lent back to keep his balance. Slate surfed down the soil as the rhino pulled out, shaking dirt everywhere. For a second it seemed that the demon would turn away, but then those black hell eyes saw Slate and the rhino put his head down again and flicked out his horn.

Slate dodge to the side and felt his legs give way under him. Pain shot down his side and he knew the horn had caught him. Tumbling into the crater, Slate scrambled to his feet, even though burn like pain had seized his muscles. He two handed his gun, holding far out in front of him. It was the only barrier between him and the demon now.

The rhino monster turned. Bones crunching together as if breaking and blood dripping from a half shot away face. A single eye fixed on to Slate.

Slate backed slowly up. He shut his good eye and looked through the machine one to perfect his aim. He squeezed the trigger on an exhale of breathe and felt the gun kick back in his hands. Blue and red waves danced before his eye then he opened his other one and saw the rhino was stunned.

He stepped forward, getting almost too close, before he fired straight into the demon’s head.

The rhino let out a gasping groan and crumbled to the floor.

Slate took in a deep breath of cold night air. He smelt the acid and decaying blood of the demon. The bitter taste of victory bubbled on his tongue. That hadn’t been worth the fight. He let his shoulders drop and his gun fell to his side. At the back of his mind he knew he was badly injured and in pain, but for the moment that could wait.

This demon hadn’t actually been the one he had been hunting.

He wasn’t sure how he knew that. Just that it was the fact. His mind wheeled and he wondered over the sinister nature of it all. The agency were doing this just to taught him, he concluded. They didn’t think he was good enough anymore….Well, he’d show them. Slater Gordon was still the fastest monster killer in the west. With that, he turned, put his gun away and slipped out his rum again.

 

 

(Inspired by Sue’s image prompt at; https://scvincent.com/2016/10/20/thursday-photo-prompt-violet-sky-writephoto/ with thanks.)

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Sycho

Dr. Guylian, the psychologist, consulted his appointment list and with a slight shake of his head crossed out the third name on the list. His eyes flickered to the newspaper next to him on the desk and he saw the same name: Margaret Dales printed on the open page. There was a photograph of a young petit woman with curly hair under a headline of; Suicide Verdict For Depressed Mother Of Six.

The corners of Guylian’s mouth give a slight flick up as if to grin, but then became straight. He had work to do. He glanced at his laptop clock and saw it was a few minutes to nine. Mr. Kingsly was in the waiting room having checked in according to the computer.

There was a soft knocking at the door.

‘Come in,’ he called sounding like a school headmaster.

The door opened and his P.A, Miss Tibet, waddled in. Her chubby arms were loaded with brown paper files and her huge breasts were spilling out around them almost as if they were eating the files. Her stomach to floor black skirt threated to trip her up and did nothing to hide or support her bulging belly. Her dark cream blouse looked loose enough, but had one button too many open at the top. Her face, acne and pockmarked covered, was masked by makeup that unfortunately still showed what was underneath.

Dr. Guylian tried not to cringe and kept a blank face.

Miss Tibet dumped the files down on a small desk to his right and began fixing them, ‘Everything is in order,’ she stated loudly, ‘I’ve removed Mrs. Dales from your appointment list. I’ll sort out her files for the police- if they want them- later on if I get a chance. Is that okay with you, Doctor?’

‘Yes. Thank you. Please send Mr. Kingsly in,’ Guylian responded with his eyes fixed to the computer screen.

‘Of course,’ Miss. Tibet said gruffly and left.

The door didn’t click back into place behind her and Guylian growled. He got up, straightening his black suit and white shirt. He tweaked his tie and patted down his short black hair. Then balancing his black framed glasses on the end of his nose and picking up his notepad he went to the comfy leather chair next to the red fabric sofa.

There was knock and Guylian welcomed his client in. Mr. Kingsly shuffled forward, quietly closing the door behind him. He was wearing a rumpled old suit and looked as if he had just come from a funeral. His face drooped with heavy wrinkles and tiredness. Kingsly settled onto the sofa, laying down with his legs together and his arms over his chest and his fingers linking.

‘How are you feeling today?’ Guylian asked.

‘Tried, Doc. So tried. I didn’t sleep at all last night nor the night before,’ Kingsly rasping voice answered. ‘I tried hard. Pills and everything like you said. But it was no good.’

‘Why do you think you couldn’t sleep?’ Guylian let the question roll off his tongue.

‘Stress,’ Kingsly answered with a slight shrug, ‘the debt collectors are gonna get me.’

‘I’m sure they aren’t,’ Guylian cut in, ‘that can’t be all that’s troubling you.’

Kingsly eyed up and swallowed loudly.

‘You are safe here, remember.’

‘It’s…her,’ Kingsly muttered.

‘Her?’ Guylian asked after a few moments.

‘It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing. Nothing, I’m sure.’

Guylian tapped his pen against his pad and watched his client shifting on the sofa. Kingsly was really nervous. Guylian waited for him to go on.

‘Can you give me something to sleep, doc?’ Kingsly spoke.

‘Did the last stuff not work?’ Guylian questioned, ‘I guess we could try something else….’

‘Like what?’ Kingsly asked with a slight rise to his voice.

‘I have another client who likes to smother herself. She claims it’s the only way she can sleep. Of course, I don’t advise that. It’s dangerous,’ Guylian explained.

‘Why does she…? No, I don’t want to,’ Kingsly rushed and got up off the sofa.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘It’s okay, doc. I need to go now. Thanks,’ Kingsly turned and walked to the door.

Guylian kept his head low and wrote across his pad. He heard the door open and close softly. He carried on writing for a few moments then let out a sigh. Getting up, he went back to his desk and woke up his laptop. He began typing up his notes whilst his mind ticked over.

His phone buzzed and he picked it up.

Miss. Tibet’s voice crackled through, ‘Mr. Meta has arrived. Shall I send him in?’

Guylian’s eyes flickered to his computer clock, ‘give me a few more minutes,’ he said and hung up.

He finished up the notes then dug out his next client’s file. He flipped through the pages and decided to see how hard he could push Meta. The man seemed close enough to the edge now. A lick of anticipation acrossed his face and Guylian picked up the phone and called Meta through.

‘Mr. Meta. How are you today?’ Guylian called, getting up from his desk as the door opened.

Meta stumbled in. He was short, bald and his stubble beard unshaved. He was wearing dirty jogging pants and a t-shirt. Meta collapsed onto the sofa like a rag doll.

‘Mr. Meta?’

‘Bad,’ came the raspy voice.

‘Please go on,’ Guylian pressed trying to hide a hint of a smile.

‘The voices are still talking to me. Yesterday, they told me to jump from a bridge,’ Meta declared, ‘I got up on the railing, but I just couldn’t do it.’

‘Don’t you want your pain to end?’ Guylian said pleasantly.

‘Yes, yes,’ Meta sobbed, ‘I’ve nothing left now. It’s all gone.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that…maybe it’s time…you moved on?’

Meta took in a deep shaking breath, ‘how?’

‘Perhaps, you should listen to the voices and do what they say?’ Guylian suggested, hiding his Cheshire cat smile behind the notepad.