Yey for writers group!
This week, the prompt was ‘Devastated’ and I went a rather depressing route. Yes, I killed a character. Or rather, I wrote out part of his death scene. At this point, Mikey is 29 and Zack is 27.
Zachary stared down at the unmoving body of his lover who lay in his arms. “Mikey?” He shook him. “Mikey?! MIkey, don’t play around!” He continued to shake the body, but the only reaction he got was Michael’s head lulling to the side.
Zack could still clearly hear the last words mumbled from Mikey’s lips and the sound of his last breath that would haunt the hitman for the rest of his life.
“Zachary, you moron…” the words whispered in his mind. Over the years those words had become Michael’s way of saying’ I love you’ and the smile on his cold lips told Zachary all he needed to know.
“I love you too, Doveman,” he whispered, tears coming to his eyes as he leaned down and kissed his forehead. He got up and dragged the body to a hiding place, somewhere Zack could come back to to get him and give him a proper burial.
Right now, as devastated as he may be, he had to carry on and getting caught didn’t fit into that plan. He had to get back to Henry, the boy Zack had come to accept as his own son and raise him the way Mikey would have wanted.
Well, maybe not the same way, but as close as fun loving Zack could get.
“Rest well, Doveman, and may skateboard riding angels take you to that last hit in the sky.” He flashed the hand loose sign then sniffled as he walked away.
Yup. Poor, poor Mikey. A little info, Henry is Mikey’s son from a mess up when he was 16. The boy was born in Finland and lived there with his mom until she died and some family member sent him to be with his in America. At this point, Henry has been with them for two years and calls Zack ‘Daddy number 2’.
The prompts for this week are:
So, as of this moment I haven’t heard back from the people at the Chrysalis Experiment yet, but I decided to use their week 9 prompt to go along with the words from last week from writers group. As a refresher, those words were: grim, decide, pirate, communal, and numinous. The prompt from the Chrysalis Experiment was “Why would you keep doing that? Of all the things you would stick in a bottle…” While I didn’t actually have that written in this story, I did title it:
Of All The Things You Would Stick in a Bottle…
“Ahh!” Jared screamed.
“Ahh!” The new comer screamed in reply, covering his ears. “Don’t be so loud! My head is splitting!”
“Where the hell did you come from?”
The new comer stared with his baby blues at Jared. “The bottle.” He brought one hand down, the blonde hair falling back over his ear, and pointed at the bottle of gin Jared was holding, top twisted back on.
“You came out of my bottle gin?” Jared asked. He didn’t believe it. Maybe there was a hole in the ceiling of this old antiques store and this was some kind of prank.
The new comer nodded. “Yeah. Can I have it back? It’s mine.” He slurred his words and fell forward as he tried to grab the bottle.
Jared grabbed this obviously drunk practical joke before he could hit the ground. “I think you need to sit down.”
“I think you need to give me back my house.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “You don’t live in a bottle of gin.” Though he had to admit that this guy did smell like gin.
“Yesh I do. I have for…” he stopped talking to think. “I don’t remember how long. But I once knew a guy who lived in a pirate’s eye patch. He’s at the bottom of the ocean now, though. Poor sucker.”
“Of course I am! I live in a bottle of gin! If you lived in a bottle of gin… you’d be drunk too.” He nodded. Jared helped him into a wicker seat.
“What’s your name? Maybe the owner knows who you are.”
Britain nodded. “Uh huh. The owner doesn’t know me though. I’m a jinn.”
This caused Jared to startle and stare. “A jinn?”
Britain nodded again.
“Who lives in a bottle of gin?”
Once more, Britain nodded.
“A bottle of gin called Numinous?”
Britain rolled his eyes so dramatically that his whole head rolled as well. “Yes! That’s what I said. Now give me my bottle.” He reached for it, but almost fell out of the chair as Jared pulled it back.
“Wait. Don’t you owe me three wishes or something?”
Britain looked up at him, his face blank. Slowly understanding came across his face. “Yes. But you should take time to decide what you want. Because… because…” He scratched his head. “Because after the third wish, you have to pay the price.” He stopped. “Shit. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
“Pay the price?” Jared raised an eyebrow.
“Uh huh. You lose your soul, the world ends, stuff like that.” He waved a hand as if it was a comment he could easily dismiss. “The jinn take over and it becomes hell on Earth. Yada yada. Don’t they teach this stuff in school?”
“Stupid… What year is it?”
“Whoa… that’s a long time…”
Jared lowered his arms to his sides, confused by the comment. He was about to ask what he was talking about when the jinn reached out and snatched the bottle of gin from his hand. “Hey!”
“Ha! I win.” The guy grinned and curled up around the bottle, nuzzling it like it was his pet cat or something. “Sweet, sweet elixir.” He twisted the cap off and took a long swig, half emptying the bottle. He lowered it and smiled, appeased.
“You really drink like that? Why isn’t that bottle empty?”
Britain held it up and suddenly the clear liquid filled the bottle again.
Jared fell back, landing on his ass with a loud thud.
“Is everything all right over there?” the older woman who owned the store, called.
“Sure, sure. Just fine! I tripped, but everything’s fine!” Jared called back to her.
“If you’re sure…”
“I am. Don’t worry.” Jared waited a moment, then looked back at Britain. Or at least where Britain had been. All that sat there now was the bottle. Jared got up, grabbed the bottle, and shoved it in his bag. This woman wouldn’t miss it, he was pretty sure.
Later that day, Jared sat in his kitchen, the bottle of Numinous gin sitting on the table in front of him. His arms were crossed on the table in front of him, his chin resting on his hands.
What happened earlier… had that actually happened? Or was he sleep deprived? He had just gotten back from a long road trip to appraise someone’s antiques.
That was it. He had been sleep deprived and stolen this bottle of old gin. He stood up from the table, deciding that he would go back to the store the next day and apologize to the woman then pay for the alcohol.
Feeling resolved, he turned off the kitchen light and headed up to bed, leaving the bottle on the kitchen table.
The next morning, Jared was woken up by the alarm set for ten am. He groaned and hit the snooze button then rolled over, grabbing for the other pillow to pull against his chest.
Pillow wasn’t what he found.
At least it didn’t feel like his pillow. Last he checked, his pillow was filled with down feathers and wrapped in a silk pillow case. Silk, to his recollection, didn’t feel like human skin and it sure as hell didn’t have lips, a nose, and two crevasses for eyes.
His eyes shot open and he stared at the blonde from yesterday laying next to him. The lips that were under his palm spread into a bright smile.
Jared screamed and flew backwards in a haste to get away. “God damn it!” he yelled as he hit the floor.
“I don’t think God cares enough to damn me,” Britain said and leaned over the edge of the bed. “Are you OK?”
Jared scowled. “Get out of my bed.”
Britain frowned, looking like a kicked puppy. “But…”
Britain’s head vanished from the edge of the bed. Jared sighed and ran a hand through his hair, aggravated. Something had told him not to go to that store, the clouds looking grim and forbearing as he drove there. But did he listen to his gut? Nope. Now he was paying the price, waking up to another man in his bed. Though he had to admit he was a good looking man with a thin form, shaggy blonde hair and the prettiest baby blue eyes Jared had ever seen. Jared’s black hair and sapphire blue eyes seems to be a complete contrast.
He shook his head. He was not thinking these kinds of thoughts about a… a thing that lived in a… No, there was no way this guy actually lived in a gin bottle. Though he had seen the bottle magically refill itself, and he had heard tales from other antiquers, superstitious antiquers, that there were old items connected to spirits.
Was this man a spirit then? Someone who had died at the communal drinking hole and attached himself to a bottle of gin? And he only thought that he was a jinn?
“Britain?” he asked hesitantly.
There was no answer.
Jared got up and walked around to the other side of the bed. There he was, blonde hair and all, curled up on the floor. Britain looked up at him, then quickly away, still looking like that kicked puppy.
“I’m out of your bed,” Britain said dejectedly.
“I see that.” Jared nodded.
“I should go.” He started to fade.
Britain reformed and stared up at the man. “What?”
Britain blinked. “Prove what?”
“Prove that you’re… you’re a jinn and not some ghost attached to that bottle you’re holding.”
Britain sat up, his face going from hurt to a bright grin. “I can do that. I am very good at doing that.” He jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “What do you want?”
“What do I… You mean I have to use one of my wishes in order for you to prove that you’re a jinn?”
Britain nodded. “Uh huh.”
“But… Oh fine.” Jared brought a hand up and rubbed his chin. “Hmm… I want…”
“‘I wish’,” Britain corrected.
“I wish…” What did he want to wish for? He hadn’t really sat down and thought about it before. If he could have any three things in the world, what would they be? Or rather, any two things. If he made the third wish, the world would end, or something like that. He’d want it to be something small so it didn’t just look like a coincidence, but it had to be big enough so he didn’t waste it.
“Hey… hey… I’ll give you a free wish,” Britain said with a nod. “Because you opened my bottle after over a thousand years.”
“You’ve been drunk for over a thousand years?”
“All right… Well, then I wish for the car of my dreams to be parked in my drive way.”
Britain stared at him.
“What?” Oh god, this was some prank TV show, wasn’t it?
“You have to be more specific.”
Britain nodded. “Otherwise the car that would pop up in your driveway either wouldn’t work, or was recently reported stolen and the cops would be on their way here to arrest you for stealing it.”
“But I didn’t steal it.”
“That doesn’t matter. Wish master rules.”
Jared frowned. This was harder than it sounded. “All right… I wish the car of my dreams was in the drive way, fully operational, with a full tank of gas, not stolen, with the pink slip in the glove box, in my name. That solid enough?”
Britain scratched his head. “You could always add in that you don’t want a dead body in the trunk, no blood splattered on the seats, no bomb under the hood.”
“Jesus! Could all that really happen?”
“Then… all of that too!” Jared waved his hands.
Britain chuckled then nodded. “Go look then.”
Jared wasn’t so sure, but he slowly walked over to the window and pulled apart the blinds, looking down at his drive way. “Holy… holy shit. It’s really there!”
“I told you.” Britain grinned. “I’m the real deal baby! Now let’s have a drink and drive around in that car of yours.” He raised the bottle of gin in the air.
Jared walked back over to him and snatched the bottle away from him. “Let’s go for a drive now, then have that drink later. I want to feel the car’s real before I celebrate.”
“As long as we have a drink.” Britain took the bottle back and took a swig of the contents. “I love this stuff…” He grinned stupidly. “Yummy, yummy stuff.”
Jared rolled his eyes, pulled on his shirt from the day before, and headed down to his new car, jinn in tow.
Yup! What do you think? I rather like it. Britain is loveable <3
Anyhows, that’s all I got.