Trespasser (Part XXII)

Posted on September 14, 2015 by R. Richardsson

Another rainy day. As the summer months waned, they came more frequently, bastions of the months to come. For the first time in weeks, the smell of smoked food didn’t fill any of their windows. The women weren’t busy making side dishes, nor were they baking pies, and the children weren’t playing outside.

The residents on this dead-end street had grown distant since Davie had taken his fall. It wasn’t something that had happened immediately. They came with casseroles and well wishes, and they spent their free time doing anything to help his wife out around their home, but eventually the fridge was filled. Over the course of two weeks, all of Davies’ unfinished projects had been finished, and there was nothing new for anyone to say.

Bryer street grew stale, and where most its inhabitants were unhappy, one, in particular, thrived. ‘Dandy’ Andy ‘From Down The Street’, wore the biggest of smiles. He walked with an extra bounce in his step, and he winked at everyone as if he knew their darkest secrets.

Oh, but if only they knew his.

If they knew his deep, dark secret, they would sing a different tune indeed!

But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, not if he had anything to say about it. Because HIS, deep, dark secret, was being shared by someone else, someone who could still say something about it. Not the old black man from down the street, however, he had seen to that! That one wouldn’t be saying much of anything in the foreseeable future. No, not that one, but a much younger flower. One more to his liking. One he had recently picked as his own.

He had thought of her as his flower from the moment that he laid eyes upon her. Oh, she had been planted by another, a gardener who had tended to her, fed and watered her, and pruned her so that she was always pretty, but he thought of it as her having been planted just for him. She was HIS flower, and he would do with HER as HE pleased!

He had picked his flower, but he had yet to pollinate it with his special brand of pollen. He had come close. Oh, so close! But then that old black man had interfered!

“HE’S IN MY HOUSE!”, he’d screamed over and over in his head, during AND after having dealt with him.

He worked it into a chant. “hesinmyhousehesinmyhousehesinmyhouse”, repeating the words with manic fervor. He had dealt with the old man, but he couldn’t get him out of his house. Even after it was done, after the cops had completed their investigation and left, he just couldn’t get him out of his goddamn house!

“He’s. In. My. House!”

His skin crawled at the thought of being violated.

“How dare he come into MY HOUSE! Fucking THIEF! VIOLATOR! NIGGER!”

Just when he was ready to take his flower and bring her home, HE had-

“-fucked everything up!”

Andy was angry. He was happy. He was furious. His emotions were all over the scale as he thought about the old man and how he’d had the nerve to trespass upon his private domain.

Andy was sad. He was giddy. He was nervous, because with the old man out-of-the-way, he was finally going to be able to get what he wanted. What he won-ted. He giggled at his clever play of words, humming as he skipped up the steps to his front door.

Soon.

“He’s. In. My. House.”

“Shut up,” he said to nobody in particular.

The Morelli Bros. (Chapter II, Part III)

Posted on August 15, 2015 by R. Richardsson

Toad’s legs were like tiny pistons, working tirelessly as they carried him further into the fort’s interior. Though it was small on the outside, the halls beneath it were many, and it would be several minutes before he reached his destination.

Toad was very different from the majority of his people. Unlike most, who were happy to integrate into society per norm, he was born with an adventurous spirit. As a child, while his siblings and peers were performing light duties to help their parents, he was exploring dark caverns, or climbing magic vines, just to see where they’d lead him.

When he wasn’t questing, he spent his time running. Toad was the fastest creature this side of the kingdom, aside from the wild yoshi, but those were so rare that it was hard to find contest in the claim. He found comfort in the movements that his body made. The light swing of his arms, the flex and relaxing of the muscles in his legs, the steady intake and release of the air needed to continue, all had become second nature to him.

So in the comfort of running he retreated as the stone walls blurred past him, and he soon took little notice of his surroundings. He had traversed this path enough times to know the route by heart. As he ran, he had to occasionally duck under the arms of various slave workers, who were busy with the construction of the interior. He dodged when another of his folk, a youngling by measure, stumbled into a pile of unwound Bob-ombs, the latter whose lifeless eyes seemed to accuse any who looked upon them.

A shiver ran down his spine, sending a chill throughout his body as he expected one of the dangerous orbs to suddenly come to life. Before he could find out, he was running down another corridor and the scene was long behind him.

He was only stopped once when, ahead of him, a Magikoopa was using its magic to command a small group of Drybones to work. Four of the undead koopa were tethered to a mighty Thwomp trap, a living block covered in spikes and whose sole purpose was to kill any that cross its path, and were dragging it toward a rope and pulley. There, it would be taken to the top of the corridor and placed in its hidden alcove, where it would await its victims.

He knew that it wouldn’t be long before even he was unable to pass through here, and his little heart grieved for the prisoner below. He had yet to see the dreaded King of the Koopas, but if the fear in the eyes of all those around him meant anything, he knew that there was little hope for the girl he was going to prepare for it.

He was close.

There was only one more obstacle before he reached his destination, a retractable bridge that had to be activated near the door to her cell. He stood at the edge of the chasm, the bottom of which was being filled with molten steel, and motioned to the guard on the other side.

The creature looked very much like the koopas who marched on two legs, only this one’s shell was covered with thick spikes. In the right light, he thought, it could easily pass for true leader of this army, King Bowser. It bore a strong resemblance the cruel tyrant, or at least to its descriptions, such as the purpose for which it was created.

It was the guardian of the depths, the keeper of the key, and the last test any intruder would have to pass to gain access to the door it was protecting. Unlike any other creature, these were created using the blood of the King himself. The intention had been to protect his bloodline, but the outcome had not been as planned.

These creatures may bear the resemblance of Bowser, but they were nothing like the evil king. Most lacked the intelligence to speak and acted solely on instinct, attacking any and all creatures they deemed inferior. While some could only muster enough of their wits to jump on their enemies, others had just enough sense to attack with weapons, or with their legendary fire breath.

Once it had locked into place, Toad slowly crossed the bridge with his eyes pointed to his feet. To look up was to provoke the guardian, and no magic would protect him from the wrath that would incur.

“Please let me pass, please let me pass,” he chanted with each carefully placed step. Even though he wore a magic pendant around his neck which allowed him just that, his nerves wouldn’t allow him to pass quietly.

The Bowserling leaned down as he approached, sniffling deeply of his scent and drooling with anticipation. One misstep and he would be lunch.

Trespasser (Part XXI)

Posted on August 2, 2015 by R. Richardsson

Something bad had happened recently happened to one of her daddy’s friends, but as it was most other times, it was about something her parents would not tell her. Like every other situation they didn’t want her to know the details, they said they would tell her when she was older.

She felt like they still treated her as if she was fragile, as if she couldn’t handle the woes of the real world, but what they seem to forget is that she had survived the sadness which came after Sammy’s passing. He had been her friend when the other children her age would not, had offered her advice when she needed it, and protected her when her family wasn’t around. He had been like a grandfather to her, but his final lesson to her had been about the harsh realities that come with growing older.

Her head was often in the clouds. She enjoyed the worlds she immersed herself in, this much was true, but she was also intuitive enough to know when something was terribly wrong.

The morning when she first noticed her parents change in behaviour, strange cars began filling the driveway of the Robinson’s house. Before long, they were parked out against the curbs and even so far as a couple of houses down the street!

In the few fleeting moments that she saw Mrs. Robinson, she was usually crying, and she was never without the company of one of her visitors. It got so that she began to feel uncomfortable playing at the edge of her sidewalk, so she moved further down the street from where the activity was heaviest. More specifically, she sat on the walkway leading up to the Burman’s home, the house of a nice older couple who only lived there in the summer.

It had been a couple of weeks since their lawn service had been through, but she didn’t mind, not one bit. Not only could she create a jungle scenario for which her toys could play in, but it also gave her plenty of cover to remain unnoticed. In addition to the overgrowth, the walkway was lined with small hedges, each also suffering from neglect. With her back against them, and the tall grass before her, she was all but invisible to everyone.

All except for one.

“Hello Vanessa,” came a cheery voice from behind her.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you,” came the concerned response.

“No, I just didn’t see you there, is all.”

Andy stepped out from around one of the hedges, a warm smile on his face, and with his hands behind his back.

“You look very pretty today,” he said as he moved them towards her in offering.

“Thank you,” she said innocently. “What is that,” she asked when she saw the small gift in his hand.

“Oh, just something you might like. Something I made. Just. For. You.”

She squealed, excited that he knew her favorite cookie was chocolate chip, and in seconds she was stuffing it in her mouth.

“That’s right,” he said with a wolfish look in his eyes. “Eat it all up.”