The city’s most well known art gallery holds the finest art from all around the known world. Owned by partners Harper Lane and Gabrielle Dalway it is well respected. It is considered an excellent achievement for any artist to be exhibited there. With it’s close connection to the PENN AUCTION HOUSE, the prestige of the gallery cannot be argued with.
The gallery holds paintings from one of Coldford’s local artists, DAVID FINN. Despite his troubles, his time in rehab and his clash with Harper Lane, his work is still considered fiere, challenging and an absolute must for collectors.
Dalway Lane gallery deals in fine arts. Behind the beautiful sculptures and astonishing paintings lies a painful story that needs to be told. Isn’t that what the best art does, though?
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One thing I find quite common in fans of horror like myself is we were exposed to the genre from an early age. For some this was an exciting experience. For others, myself included, it was – not to put too fine a point it – horrifying.
Poltergeist, IT (the original series with Tim Curry) and Child’s play were just some of the movies I saw when I was arguably way too young. I was always an imaginative child so the scenes these movies presented, as corny as they may be now, played on my mind and formed lifelong phobias. Those lifelong phobias, I just happened to turn into a career.
Lets start with Pennywise. Released in the early nineties I was still in primary school when I first saw it. What stuck out most to me was the vibrancy of Pennywise’s red hair. It stood out to me against the duller, New England backdrop. The colours made him more eyecatching, more threatening. Even as a youngster I never saw clowns as anything less than nightmre fuel.
Then there was Chucky. The doll possessed with the spirit of an evil man. Another red head. As an imaginative kid with little to no real friends toys, stuffed animals and dolls were my most treasured companions. To see what a doll was capable of doing, at least by movie standards, was horrifying.
Cut to several decades later and I find myself still lost in that imagination. I do still have treasured toys and dolls, Pennywise and Chucky being one of them. I also sport vibrant (yes you guessed it) red hair. I knew there were some correlations between how my approach to creativity was shaped by these old horror movies as a child. However, it wasn’t until I started to write this blog I began to realise just how much.
The villainy, the vibrancy, the outldandish plots and the reactions from viewers were something that became embedded in my ambition. I came to enjoy writing material that made a reader shriek, gasp or become unsettled. I could have written happy little stories with lovely endings. I ask though, were would be the fun in that!?
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Also known as the Le Grande, Central Theatre is the largest and most respected theatre in the city. With productions of the most popular plays to the annual carol concert from St Alban’s choir, the stage at Central has seen it all.
Famed actors such as VERA BERGMAN and LAURENCE DU BOIS have trod the boards there. It also hosts royal guests regularly. Queen Rita of Penn and Main was a well known patron carrying a long held tradition of the ladies in her lineage. Members of the Chamberlain crown have also been known to frequent.
Like most places in Coldford, there are stories to tell behind the scenes. The theatre is owned by the Towsely family. It has been in their hands since the industrial age. They procure the finest talent, the finest productions and when the lights go down and the curtains fall, legendary orgies.
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He had been so focused on Tabitha he hadn’t noticed Reggie Penn until the triplet’s fingers tangled in his hair and yanked his head back.
“Who’s done?” he asked.
Reggie pushed Mr Heath’s head into his own lap as Tabitha made a call to Marcus on the upper floor.
“Marcus, handsome. Show these people how very fucking serious I am.”
Bodies rained past the window as the first victims of the Freefall Massacre plummeted from the top of Beckingridge Tower.
Ring ring. Ring ring.
A short while later, Reggie’s phone chimed. He answered, still keeping Mr Heath pressed down. Reggie raised his knee up and pressed it the banker’s back as he clutched the phone to his ear.
“Yeah?”
It was Simon who was calling. “We need you up here.”
“What’s wrong.”
“We could use some extra hands,” Simon told him. “Actually, you had better bring Tabs with you too.”
“Lock the meeting room,” Reggie could hear Marcus instruct in the background. “The Heaths and the last of the investors are welcome to take the more direct root should they wish.”
When they got to the upper floor there were still quite a number of drugged and drunken bodies around that would be exiting the tower via the window. They weren’t the concern at that point.
“What’s going on?” Tabitha demanded to know. “I was just about to give the old Fullerton troll her last rights.”
“We met a little resistance,” said Marcus.
Tabitha rolled her eyes. “You mean like the resistance of the old boy in the reception on security? We just walked past him. He exhausted himself trying to pull a taser. Simon had to help him to a seat. He’s still catching his fucking breath.”
“Not that resistance,” Marcus told her. “I mean this.”
The eldest triplet led them down to a back room where a monstrously fat woman had fallen from her scooter. The flab of her arms and legs were flailing as she tried to correct herself. She was number nineteen, Kayleigh Clifton.
“There was some hor D’ouvers set up here. One can only assume it came down to feed. We can’t switch the lifts back on so It’s going to take all of us to get it up off the floor, roll it up the stairs and out the window,” said Marcus.
“Maybe we just leave her to last,” suggested Reggie.
Simon disagreed, stretching his neck. “No this is one you want to get out the way early.”
Tabitha started to chuckle. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the heap on the floor.
“I know you,” she said. “You think you run the Shanties. I was kind enough to send you a gift from the Knock Knock Club and you didn’t even thank me.”
***
“C’mon Tabs!” Reggie cried. “I’m going to miss out. We should have been there ages ago.”
“It’s not my fault you had to stop and smoke a spliffy or whatever. My feet are killing me in these shoes already.”
What had gotten Reggie so excited was the release of the new Coby Game – Plague Survivor. It was releasing at noon and crowds had already started gathering.
“Your dad is King of Main,” Tabitha went on. Couldn’t he have just told the game store to hold one for you?”
“No,” Reggie grumbled. “He said he wasn’t calling in special favours. He said if I really wanted the game I had to queue like everyone else. C’mon they’ll be opening the doors soon.”
‘Junior gets lifted and laid way too much,’ had been the king’s sentiments. ‘He needs to learn if he wants something sometimes effort has to go into it.’
“Urgh. You owe me, cunt,” Tabitha claimed.
“We’ll get to the movie. I’ll get you a milkshake at Bobby’s too,” Reggie offered as compensation. “Here hop on my back.”
Relieving the strain of the kitten heels Tabitha had been wearing, she climbed onto Reggie’s back and he carried her into City Main’s Coby Game store.
Tabitha had been browsing the oldies music in the jukebox room when Reggie emerged again beaming with pride having managed to get a copy of the new release. Tabitha pursed her lips and gave a sardonic applause for his effort. He stuffed it in his back pack and pulled back a headphone.
“What are you listening to?” he asked.
Sharing the headphones their attention was caught by a huge mountain of flesh on a scooter barging its way through those still waiting to get a copy of the new release, screaming about being disabled.
“What a cunt,” Tabitha sneered, peeling off the headphones.
“She’d be able to walk if they drained some of that fat,” stated Reggie.
“You want a grease fire to burn down the whole city?” Tabitha remarked, chuckling at how witty she found herself.
The smell of body odour from the rotund creature lingered. It didn’t take long before she came zipping back out again with the last game in hand. Still crying about being disabled to whomever was disapproving of her rudely pushing through those that had been waiting some time for their chance.
It would seem someone had told Kayleigh Clifton that the game was going to be popular, so she snapped up a copy with the intention of making some profit on it.
There was a young man there with what Tabitha and Reggie assumed to be his mother. He was a sweet, smiling sort with Down’s syndrome. They had been waiting in the queue patiently. They would have been the next ones in.
“Was that the last one?” the mother asked.
The bloated cretin on the scooter replied, “aye it was.”
The young man was a little upset. The mother hushed him. Then again it could have been the heavy stench of sweat that was doing it. That was upsetting Reggie and Tabitha too.
“If you want you can buy it from me,” Kayleigh offered.
“That’s kind of you,” the mother supposed.
“A hunner.”
“Hunner? Hundred?” the woman was astonished. The game only cost sixty. That was quite a mark up for Kayleigh’s fully loaded behind to carry it out of the room.
“I’m disabled,” she cried again, lifting the parts of her body that had folded over the scooter and adjusting herself so it could carry her immense frame. “I had to come all the way into Main. A hunner and it’s yours.”
Tabitha took Reggie’s arm and the two left the music booth and crossed the hall to address the situation.
“Put your money away,” Reggie suggested. “She’s a conning bastard, like. Excuse my language, ma’am.”
Kayleigh Clifton’s fleshy face rippled into a sneer. “Who the fuck asked you?”
“Do you want me to pop you like a fucking balloon?” Tabitha snapped.
“Suit yourselves,” Kayleigh spat. “I don’t have time for this shite. Get out my road. Fucking chancers.”
At that she zipped off again.
“Sorry about that,” said Reggie to the mother.
“It was a long shot,” she replied. The young man still seemed a little upset. “He just loves those games.”
“What’s your name?” Reggie asked him.
“Jack,” the young man replied.
Reggie smiled. Jack beamed too. Then the triplet reached into his backpack and produced his copy of the game.
“Tell you what Jack, since we’re mates you can have my copy.”
“Oh he couldn’t do that,” the mother insisted.
“It’s fine,” Reggie told them. “You can pass it back when you’re done. No spoilers though.” Jack grinned as Reggie passed him the game over. “I’m Reggie. This is Tabitha.”
“Reggie?” the mother gasped. “I thought you were one of the triplets. You’re Reginald Junior?”
“That’s right,” Reggie confirmed. He drew his phone from his pocket. “You got a gamer tag, Jack?”
“JackAnory,” the young man told him.
Reggie typed it in. “Reg3Online. That’s me. You can add me if you like. I’ve got tonnes of game links I can send you.”
Jack clutched the game tighter.
“Thanks!”
“At least let me give you something for it,” the mother insisted.
“No need, ma’am,” said Reggie. “You can just give me a shout when you’re done, huh Jack?”
“I will,” Jack agreed. He reached out and clasped Reggie in a hug. Then he did the same for Tabitha.
“We’re going to a movie right now but if you’re still in Main a little later we’re having milkshakes at Bobby’s. You should join us,” Reggie offered.
“You’re too kind,” the mother replied.
“I appreciate it,” said Jack.
By the time they got out of the store Tabitha and Reggie had spotted Kayleigh Clifton heave her immense frame from her scooter and hobble to the grey, high rise vehicle she drove. After collecting said scooter, some Clifton handymen had to push her into her vehicle before she drove off.
“Fat, greedy cunt,” Tabitha growled.
“Yeah,” Reggie agreed. “She makes me fucking sick.”
***
“How much do you think it weighs?”
“About 3 – 400 pounds I’d say.”
As the triplets discussed the practicality of moving number nineteen, Tabitha still couldn’t keep her eyes off it.
“Could you lift that, Si?”
“I did 350 the other day. Got it right above my head,” Simon boasted.
“So, get that fat heap off the floor,” Reggie pushed.
“There’s just one problem,” Simon put in. “When you’re lifting weights you have bars to grip, space to take the proper stance and a belt so you don’t shit out your fucking spine, Reg.”
“Fuck you!” Kayleigh spat from the ground.
“No, fuck you!” Simon snapped back. “You greedy, fat cunt. Ever heard of a salad?”
“That’s enough,” Marcus intervened. “Between us we can get it back up the stairs and to the window.”
“I’m not going under an armpit,” Reggie objected.
“You’ve been worse places,” Simon teased.
“Not many.”
“Grab an arm each and I’ll push from here,” Marcus instructed. “We don’t have much time. Once the security guard catches his breath he may very well call the authorities. We need to be prepped before they get here. We have to get it up the stairs and we can roll it to the window from there.”
The removal of Kayleigh Clifton’s lard filled bulk commenced. They managed to get to the first landing with Tabitha following behind the triplets.
The triplets lined up and caught their breath.
Marcus sighed, “Alright, if we shoulder together we can shove it to the bottom of the next stairs … Reggie! Get off it!”
Reggie had laid himself across Kayleigh’s stomach and was rising up and down with her staggered wheezy breaths.
“It’s kinda like a waterbed,” chuckled the youngest. Simon snatched his arm and pulled him back onto his feet.
“Eugh. I’m all sticky now,” Reggie stated, causing Simon to shove him away.
“Can we focus?” Marcus barked at them. “We do have other guests waiting.”
The triplets lined up again. The scrummed together like they were in a rugby match and charged. Kayleigh was bowled over. Reggie let out a shriek as his hand slipped further than he intended into a somewhat tight, moist space.
“Ahhh!” he bawled. “I’m in it! I’m in it. Get me out!”
Simon pulled him back. Reggie’s arm freed with an audible thwoop!
“It was just one of the fat folds,” Simon observed. He didn’t want to be the one but he had to ask, “are you even wearing anything under that tent?”
“Why don’t you lift it up and see for yourself ya peacocking prick.”
Simon and Reggie shared a look. Then they committed to a game of stone, scissors, paper. Simon chose paper to cover Reggie’s rock. He gave a fist bump of relief so genuine you could have sworn Coldford City had won a penalty shootout. Reggie raised the floral tent Kayleigh was covered in releasing a stench of urine and more body odour.
“It’s hard to tell,” he said. “If there was anything in here it’s been sucked up.”
Marcus was starting to lose his patience. Hair was straying from the neat ponytail he wore.
“Can we please, for the love of all that is righteous, just get this disgusting behemoth out of the God damned window!”
Having rolled her to the second stairwell, Reggie and Simon lifted a leg each and Marcus clasped it from the top. A revolting cloud of flatulence engulfed them.
“Please tell me that was you, Reggie,” Simon said, hopefully.
Reggie’s nose wrinkled. He was trying not to vomit. Tabitha had started gagging quite dramatically too.
“Aye, ye’s are so scary I shit maself,” Kayleigh cried, defiantly.
Simon started to heave too.
“Will you hold it together,” Marcus ordered.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” said Simon.
“Vomit in your own time. We still have these stairs to get up.”
“I’m disabled,” Kayleigh cried.
“I’m going to be disabled by the time we get you to that fucking window,” Simon yelled. He had to stop himself as his stomach lurched again.
“I was just thinking,” said Reggie, resting a leg on his shoulder. “Do you think those kids that went missing are in there? Maybe it ate them?” He lifted the tent dress again. “Marley? Are you in there little man?”
“Those kids didn’t go missing,” said Tabitha. “Your blob there left them with no choice but go to the docks.”
The greed that Kayleigh Clifton personified was not to be underestimated. Tabitha would slice off the face of anyone without too much thought. However, as far as her triplet Penn family were concerned, valid reason had to be given for such drastic action. Kayleigh’s unapologetic theft and selfish discord through the Shanties and beyond left many desperate. The young people, lost to the docks, most likely faced a fate worse than death.
“You disgust me” Marcus had told Kayleigh and he meant it.
So they kept pushing and heaving up the second set of steps. Simon became conscious of being so close to the asshole end. Knowing shit had to come dripping from somewhere he raised his shoulder a bit so the chances were it would drip towards Reggie.
“Let’s switch places,” he eventually suggested to Marcus.
Marcus popped up from the other side of the heap.
“You really think it’s much easier up here?” asked the crown prince. “Madame, if you don’t stop trying to bite me I will extract your teeth!”
“Fucking try it, specky.”
Marcus disappeared behind the heap again. When he reappeared he was laughing a little hysterically, clasping a set of old filthy dentures. He snapped them at his brother. “Still want to take my place?”
“Nah, you’re alright,” Simon decided.
“Then keep pushing. We’re almost there.”
“You’re for it now, cunt.”
“Yes, thank you Tabitha.”
***
It had been a warm afternoon when Rita Penn had been making her way to the headquarters of the City Youth Fund. She was flanked on either side by sons, Marcus and Simon. She had a phone clasped to her ear, held in conversation with Tawny.
“The food drive up here was such a success,” the queen was explaining. “We’ve got some packages to send down your way.”
“Yer a star, honey!” Tawny cheered. “We’re going to get as many to Knock Knock as we can and whip up some hot meals.
Simon skipped forward and opened the door.
“I’m just on my way now,” said Rita, “I’ll give you a call back.”
Rita stepped into the hall, giving her son an affectionate pat on the face. “Thank you, baby.”
The hall was filled with volunteers and people still bringing in canned goods. Molly Walden was the one to greet them upon arrival.
“We’ve done well, ma’am,” said the wine merchant with a smile. “We’ve got a lot of cans. Some of the volunteers sorted some baby items and made up some gift packs for expecting mas.”
“That’s brilliant,” said Rita sincerely. “It’s really a job well done. I’ve let the Headliners know we’ll be sending some down their way. The Jolly Shopper said they’ll bring in some bread too.”
Molly placed her hands on her hips and took in the princes.
“And how are my boys?” she asked.
“Very well, thank you, Mrs Walden,” Marcus answered for them.
Molly chuckled.
“I’ve got a fight coming up, Mrs Walden,” Simon told her excitedly. “If you’re free this weekend are you able to come along and see?”
“I’ll be there,” Molly confirmed. “If you get into trouble I’ll jump in,” she jested jabbing the air. To Rita she said, “Mr Rugato is here, ma’am.”
Marcus and Simon followed their mother to a table where Mr Rugato, a potential patron of the CYF, was seated with his two daughters.
Mr Rugato of Tokashima had recently set up an electronics store in Main. he was also a professor of robotics at Cardyne college. When he heard of the Youth Fund he expressed an interest in making a sizeable donation. Molly had invited him along to the annual drive to see what progress was being made, accompanied by his two lovely daughters Amane and Izen. He was a round faced, cheerful sort of fellow dressed in a fine suit. He gave a courteous nod to the Queen of Main after which introductions were made.
“These are my sons, Marcus and Simon.”
Mr Rugato gave a bow to them. The daughters followed the behaviour of their father.
“You will have to meet some of our volunteers,” said Rita to the would be patron. “My boys would be happy to keep the young ladies company.”
“Of course, mother,” Marcus agreed. “Mrs Walden has been kind enough to provide some coffee and pastries if you would like to join us.”
The young ladies were quite thrilled at that idea. Amane clasped Simon’s arm firmly.
Pleasantries were exchanged, coffee and pastries were provided. The daughters regaled the triplets with tales from their homeland. Marcus and Simon offered some anecdotes about life in Coldford.
“So you’re twins then?” Amane asked, fluttering her eyelashes.
“We’re triplets, actually,” Simon explained.
“We’re missing the complete set today,” Marcus added causing Izen to giggle coquettishly.
Meanwhile, Mr Rogatu was speaking to one of the volunteers whilst Rita and Molly tended to the workers from Williams Distribution who would be packaging the food parcels and distributing them to where they were needed most.
“I fell pregnant. I was still really young,” the volunteer was explaining. “My parents didn’t want to know. They kicked me out. Luckily I had the CYF to turn to. Her Majesty – eh Mrs Penn – she set me up with help. Mrs Walden and others helped take care of me too. They made sure I got the medical care I needed and we all share babysitting duties so we can work or go to school. I just finished taking a night class in accountancy and Mrs Penn arranged a flat share for me. My baby and I have a nice little home now.”
Mr Rugato was impressed. “And you volunteer?”
“Most of us end up doing that. It’s nice to give a little back. There’s lots of help for troubled kids here too. We’ve set up sports teams, activities and a buddy system for some of the younger ones. Most recently we did the food drive you can see here. The Coldford City team got in on it. They did huge collections at the stadium of tins, baby items, hygiene products, whatever they could get. It went so well we’re gathering it all up and sharing some with other vulnerable parts of the city.”
Mr Rugato was confident in his decision to support the City Youth Fund. The chat with the young volunteer, seeing Rita’s personal dedication he couldn’t ask for more. Then trouble arrived as Kayleigh Clifton came crashing into the hall on her scooter, struggling to carry her weight. Her smell flowed over her immense body and beads of sweat were running down her wide back. Naturally she made a charge towards the pastries, barging owner of the tram system, Rufus Clarke and his son Ralph, out of the way who had been told by Molly to grab some refreshments after they had handed in more boxes of donated goods. When they saw Kayleigh reach out her great trunk of an arm and scoop up the last of the tarts, pressing her dirty thumbs into the icing with her eagerness, they decided it wouldn’t be much use. Nothing was going to be left anyway!
“I’m disabled!” Simon heard her yelling at someone who was objecting to her greed. She was already trying to stuff a tart into the gaping hole in her face. Marcus was consciously trying to keep his nose from wrinkling as Izen was telling him a delightful story of how she had written a book of Haikus and a waft of putrid flatulence came over them.
Having collected pastries, Kayleigh zipped across to the food parcels. On the way she bumped into Amane, sending the poor girl scoffing forward. Simon stood.
“You want to watch where you’re going?” he balled at her.
Kayleigh pulled the scooter around. She glared back at Simon. At least he assumed there was a glare under there.
She made her war cry. “I’m disabled!”
“Unless shameless rudeness is a symptom of your disability ma’am, you owe an apology,” Simon returned.
“Fuck you,” Kayleigh spat, sending crumbs from the most recent tart she devoured flying the young boxer’s way. Marcus stood too. Kayleigh saw this as a challenge.
Marcus knew Simon would already be seething enough to do something stupid so he maintained his own calm.
“Madame, you are an ill mannered, selfish glutton. What’s more you are choking this entire hall with your stench. Offer an apology that is richly deserved and move along.”
“Aye, sorry, whatever.”
Kayleigh then zipped off.
“Sorry about that, ladies,” said Simon to their company. “Unfortunately, good charity brings out some chancers.”
The middle triplet was indeed correct in that. Said chancer found her way to the table where Mr Rugato was being shown the food parcels. Kayleigh had moved the meat where her belly and breasts seemed to merge and was filling the basket in the front of her scooter with some of the donated goods.
“Are you a member of the fund?” the would be patron had been curious to know.
“Am fae the Shanties,” she declared.
“Is that a yes?”
“I own the Shanties,” she stated again.
Clifton Alley, Cliton Lane, most of Forresterhill as well as the Kirkton flats certainly were in the name of Clifton. Kayleigh’s claim to her brother’s estate was tentative at best. She did fancy herself head of the Shanties whilst Clifton Hall reigned in Hollyburn thanks to her brother and his wife, Valerie Flynn.
“Aw fuck. Fat arse is here,” Molly groaned. “Excuse the French ma’am. Molly was forgiven the language. Rita completely understood the sentiment. When she saw Kayleigh Clifton fill her basket with donated goods she approached to diffuse the situation.
“Those are donated goods, madame,” Rita confronted.
“Charity begins at home,” Kayleigh sneered. “I’m head of the Shanties.”
“Ha ha,” Rita chuckled. Then her expression fell serious. “No you’re not. The Chief speaks for the people of the Shanties and they decided their home is the Knock Knock Club. Good friends of mine run the place.”
“And who the fuck are you?” Kayleigh dared to ask.
Rita’s eyebrows raised with the sheer shock.
“Who am I!?”
Molly intervened. “Get on your way, ya fat cow. We all know you’re either going to eat it all yourself or sell it on for a profit. People need these parcels.”
“Walden?” Kayleigh turned her focus on Molly. The fucking turncoat. You a Mainer now. You forget where you come fae.”
Some people forget where they come from. Others can’t see where there going for that fat laying over the buckling scooter.
***
As she was rolled up to the window, Kayleigh could see twenty or so more bodies scattered around. There was some groaning among them. They were all heavily inebriated. Most of them had been three sheets to the wind by the time she got there.
As she was propped against the ledge one of the triplets gave a gasp, most likely Reginald Junior. She didn’t make it easy for them. She was a tough one to move. If they really wanted her to fall from Beckingridge Tower they would get her piss and shit all over them. The little bitch – Tabitha – opened the window as Reginald Penn’s triplets continued pushing her towards the ledge. Number twenty five – Derek Williams – glanced up at her. He knew he’d soon follow. The sight of Simon really putting his shoulder into it sobered him up.
“What if the fall doesn’t kill it?” Reggie wondered.
“It’s a 200ft high tower.”
“Yeah, but what if it bounces?”
Reggie took a look out of the window. “Do you think we could hit the Jeff Beckingridge statue from here?”
Tabitha waited by the window with her hands on her hips.
“Out you go, cunt,” she said.
Kayleigh should have known. She had been warned.
“Some little witch in a red dress,” Valerie had informed her. She has the Chief backing her. The Penns of Main have practically adopted her as one of their own. She’s pissed at the way the Shanties are run and she won’t stop.”
Laziness, greed, selfishness – all of those things made Kayleigh what she was.
She literally took from starving children. She held vital medicines to ransom. She exploited desperate families, forcing them to pay for their dignity all so she could feed an insatiable hunger. I can’t and won’t condone what happened at Beck Tower that night. However, what I can agree with Tabitha and the triplets on was something had to be done.
“You think you know the Shanties? You’re a little Filton tart,” Kayleigh had said to Tabitha.
“Hey!” Simon barked. “Don’t talk to her like that.” His frustration caused him to bump against her body. The bump caused a ripple effect, flicking Reggie at his end with some sweat.
“Ewwww! You just flicked fat juice in my face,” the youngest complained.
Simon laughed. This didn’t appease his brother. Reggie pursed his lips and pushed the belly sending the ripple back towards the middle one. A sprinkle of putrid moisture caught the boxer.
“Uggggh. I didn’t get you anywhere near as much as that,” Simon moaned. Before he could push the belly back again Marcus halted them.
“When you two are quite finished.” Asking the Boss Lady, Marcus continued, “You wished to say something, Tabitha?”
“You’ll be pleased to know what you leave behind will pay back the ones you stole from, at least the ones that survived the starvation and exposure on the streets.” She took a moment to take Kayleigh Clifton in again. There was a lot to observe.
Marcus took over.
“Madame, your gluttonous appetite left innocent others in need. That cannot be allowed. A recession is causing a city wide suffering and that is because of people like you. As you fall …”
Marcus stopped and took a deep breath.
“I don’t even have the energy to finish what I had to say. Let’s just get it out of here it’s stinking up the place.”
HEAVE! HEAVE! HEAVE!
“Should have said thank you, cunt,” Tabitha reminded her.
At that Kayleigh Clifton plummeted from Beckingridge Tower, number nineteen in the Freefall Massacre. The sheer weight of her greed pulled her down.
SPLAT!
“Missed the statue,” said Reggie.
“I’ve just thought of something,” said Simon. “She’s meant to be disabled so she’s never took her fat arse off that scooter. Don’t you think the authorities are going to find it a bit of a stretch when they’re told she walked up those stairs, to the window and threw herself out?”
“How much do you think that scooter weighs?
“God fucking damnit.”
Chaos is unfolding in Coldford City as an event that would become known as the Freefall massacre sees fifty nine bank executives fall to their deaths.
Read Issue 17 of the Knock Knock series free online HERE
A small restaurant in the Hotel de Vice is where the scene I now describe takes place. It was past midnight and the restaurant had long closed for dinner. The lights had been lowered. The waiting staff had all gone home. Only the Maitre’d remained behind. Three men were still seated at a table, laughing boorishly. Empty glasses and bottles filled the area and the one in the middle was opening another bottle of the Walden’s Eighty Five. He was a dark-haired fellow with an angular face. He laughed and smiled with his companions without any real joviality about him. He was a cold soul, marked by the way he gritted his teeth as he pulled the cork from the bottle.
“She left in shame,” he was guffawing with his companions. “A tired old maid like that ought to think herself lucky. She wouldn’t have feigned shame so much if she hadn’t enjoyed herself.”
This caused the boorish laughter to erupt again.
“You’re awful, Nolan,” said one – Albert Chamberlain – who was greying before his time.
“Awful? Don’t talk to me about awful. When we broke in there, she practically threw herself at me.”
“She wanted to save her charges,” said the other. He was sounding sluggish, leaning forward, barely able to keep his eyes open. The Maitre’d hoped they would pass out or the story would urge the group to move on.
Nolan slapped the drunkard on the back. He looked like he was going to vomit. Nolan passed him another drink.
Looking across the hall he called, “you there! Any chance of supper up here, old boy? My companions and I worked up quite an appetite.”
“The kitchen is closed, milord,” the Maitre’d replied. “It has been for some time.”
Nolan slammed the bottle down on the table. “What kind of place is this?” he groaned. He knocked some of the glasses over. “Clear some of these, will you?” he snapped. He managed to find his humour again when he returned to his companions. “She didn’t want to protect her charges. She just wanted all the fun for herself.”
Earlier that evening, Nolan and his company had broken into a hostel nearby. It was home to the devoted sisters of the Albans Order. Nolan had gotten it into his head that he really wanted to fuck a nun. The Mother had tried to fend them off on behalf of the novices. She gave herself to Nolan so the others may remain unharmed.
“She was a feisty one too,” Nolan commented. “She spread her legs and she prayed.”
“They’ll banish her from the order,” said Chamberlain.
This amused Nolan all over again. “I hope they do. What use is an old slut like that to them now anyway?”
The Maitre’d was struggling, listening to their nonsense. Luckily it was all interrupted by the ring of the telephone.
“A call for you Lord Cibe,” he beckoned Nolan. “It’s your brother.”
Nolan rolled his eyes. “Trust him to track me down.”
He stumbled across the hall, took the receiver and clasped it to his ear.
“Yes, Malcolm?” he asked. “I’m in the middle of something of a celebration. I won a bet this evening. What can I do you for?”
The brother’s voice on the other end sounded far and hoarse.
“Get out of there right now. I heard what you did. The whole God damn town is talking about it.”
Nolan tried to play innocent. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“They’re going to hang that nun for breaking her oaths,” said the brother. Nolan couldn’t care less about that revelation. “You’re on Penn land. Get out of there now!” he was warned.
Nolan knew full well he was on Penn land. The alcohol had dulled his consideration of the consequences. His brother’s reminder sobered him. Malcolm didn’t say much more. He rang off leaving his brother to make a departure from the hotel.
Before they could make their leave, another group entered the restaurant. Chamberlain recognised one of them as Claude Emmerson, the grandson of the Comte du Maurier and the son of Renaud Penn, Reginald. Reginald stopped to shake the hand of the Maitre’d. They shared some words; all the while Emmerson kept his focus on Nolan Cibe. The three remained seated as Reginald crossed the hall to them with his Loyal close. Chamberlain attempted to leave his seat. Emmerson gripped his shoulder and sat him back down. Reginald snatched Nolan by the hair and slammed his face onto the table. Albert Chamberlain tried to stand. Emmerson kept him seated. With his free hand Reginald picked up a bottle, smashed it on the table, holding it towards the others with a snarl.
“Reginald. Leave him be,” he was instructed by his father who had just arrived on scene with Eric du Maurier by his side.
Nolan spat a breath across the table, scattering some of the shards of broken glass. Reginald loosened his grip. He stepped into the shadow his father had cast. Renaud raised his right hand, which was wrapped in a great thick chain. He reached over and clasped Nolan’s chin with the left, looking into his eyes. He shook his head and released his grip again.
WHACK! WHACK!
Renaud brought the chain down on Nolan’s skull twice, causing his body to fall forward.
WHACK! WHACK!
Twice more and Nolan gave an audible sob, choked by the blood that ran down his face.
WHACK!
The strongest hit yet caused the sphenoid bone to crack. A final whack smashed the eye socket.
Renaud took a breath and stepped back. Eric passed a napkin to him to wipe some of the blood and skull matter from the chains. Renaud dropped the sodden handkerchief in front of Albert Chamberlain. The drunkard, although quickly sobering, had fallen into a daze, swaying in his chair with tears in his eyes.
“He didn’t have to die,” he whimpered.
“No,” said Renaud. “He did not. A perfectly innocent woman didn’t need to be violated either. It means death for her so it’s only right it meant death for him too.”
Chamberlain tried to stop himself looking at Nolan. He wasn’t quite dead yet. His lips were parting slowly as he continued to gasp his last.
“You are going to take your friend’s body from here. You will clean any mess or damage you have caused. You’ll pay the Maitre’d Hotel handsomely for having to put up with your coarse behaviour as long as he did. More importantly you will never show your face around here again. If you do you will not find me as courteous as I am now.”
Renaud and most of the Loyal departed. Reginald, Emmerson and some of the others remained behind to see that the task was carried out.
Reginald indicated the tablecloth.
“You’ll replace that too. It’s a fine cloth and those stains don’t come out.”
Chamberlain and the drunkard were both shaken.
“Cunts,” muttered Reginald under his breath.
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Halle couldn’t think much about her friends’ reaction. She was so nervous to meet Simon.
It had been a few weeks since he had sent the first messages. Since then there were a stream of them, asking about her day, reminding her of how beautiful she was and how glad he was to be speaking to her. He even told her he would like to meet her friends and have a proper relationship with her – kids, marriage; the whole works. When she expressed concern that it all seemed too good to be true he had sent back some pictures.
In the image he was stood on a sun kissed balcony. It didn’t look like Coldford City. There were lots of plants in the background. Wherever it had Helen taken it looked beautiful. What she found the most eye catching about the image was the piece of paper he was holding up. On that piece of paper was written I LOVE YOU, HALLE.
Halle had never been so excited. She felt like she could cry.
WHERE ARE YOU? She asked.
WITH THE FAMILY AT OUR HOME ABROAD. I’LL BE BACK IN THE CITY AGAIN SOON, BEAUTIFUL.
That was when the made the date and how Halle found herself in a small dockside restaurant. She was dressed in her best black dress. Janice had even done her makeup for her. She had never felt so nervous.
They were supposed to meet at six. The time went on half past the hour. There was still no time. She didn’t want to seem impatient, but she was concerned.
WHERE ARE YOU? She asked.
At 6:45 she finally received a response. It wasn’t from Simon. It was from another profile calling themselves RooneyMain.
HI, I’M SIMON’S MANAGER. HE HAS GOTTEN SOME TROUBLE GETTING BACK INTO THE CITY. HE WAS BRINGING SOME PACKAGES FOR YOU AND THEY HAVE BEEN CONFISCATED. THEY WERE GIFTS FOR YOU. HE NEEDS A GRAND TO GET THEM OUT OF CUSTOMS. ARE YOU ABLE TO HELP? HE WILL PAY YOU BACK.
She must have been contemplating her phone with a frown for too long. A woman at the table next to her with what Halle assumed was her partner asked if she was okay.
She shook it off with a polite, ‘I’m fine.’
She was dressed in her best black dress. She spent more time on her makeup than usual. She had even waxed and plucked, just in case things went that well. A girl dressed up, left sat alone, glaring at her phone. It didn’t take a seasoned detective to ascertain what happened.
Before she could respond to the manager, she received a message from Simon.
I’M SO SORRY, BEAUTIFUL. I REALLY WANT TO BE THERE FOR YOU. I’VE BEEN HELD UP SINCE THIS MORNING. I NEED TO PAY THE CUSTOMS FEE AND MY ACCOUNTS HAVE BEEN FROZEN.
THAT’S TERRIBLE she replied. ARE YOU OKAY?
I’LL BE FINE. I’LL SORT IT. I’M JUST SAD I CAN’T SEE YOU.
Halle gave it some thought.
I HAVE SOME SAVINGS. I CAN GIVE YOU THE 1000 IF IT WOULD HELP.
There was some back and forth on whether he could accept that or not. Eventually, it was decided he could. He sent her a digi wallet ID. It was under the name Harriet Malroney. She asked him about this. He told her it was one of the admins for his team.
He told her what an amazing person she was. He said he would pay her back as soon as he gained access to his accounts again.
Halle took a selfie from where she was. He responded with a stream of love eyed emojis.
MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL he wrote, expressing his regret they weren’t sharing their first meal together.
Then the strangest thing happened. He tried to initiate a video call. He must have wanted to apologise face to face. When she answered the call the screen was blank. The noise around her from the restaurant made it difficult to hear anything. The call cut.
TRIED TO CALL. SORRY I COULDN’T SEE YOU.
Halle left the restaurant, dreading explaining to her friends that she never met Simon and she had sent him money.
The full story will be available soon. In the meantime, an internet troll has taken over the city. The race is on to uncover their true identity before more reputations are ruined.
It didn’t matter how much he scrubbed, his hands just wouldn’t feel clean. The sink was filling with filthy water and blood which made him feel even worse. The skin of his palms looked irritated. He had heard it though. He knew he had heard it. The sound of the infant crying had been ringing in his ears all night. Daniel heard nothing. Daniel was a calming presence. He always quietened things. When Daniel was around the noise was softer and less intrusive. Vincent heard a child crying. It was the stifled calls of a small infant buried beneath the dirt. Daniel didn’t seem to hear it. He could tell something was bothering Vincent though.
“You’re just nervous about your first rehearsals.”
He couldn’t hear the infant in the garden crying to be dug up.
To keep his mind occupied Vincent drank a glass of whiskey. He sat in the sofa and imagined Daniel’s taxicab journey in his head. He would be crossing the Fullerton bridge from Filton towards Cardyne by then. He tried to imagine what small talk he would make with the taxi driver. Daniel was good at that. He would manage to fill the time with pleasantries. The soothing taxi ride became interrupted by the sound of the screaming again. He had to set them free. He had dropped the whiskey glass. He must have tried to pick up the shattered pieces without realising it. There was a great cut across his palm. Without cleaning it and applying a bandage he went to the gardens. The screaming was just too loud now. It didn’t sound like an infant anymore. It sounded like a whole choir of children, older, maybe the age of the Peterson twins. He hadn’t brought a shovel. The noise was just to great. He dug his hands into the dirt and started pulling it aside. The cries harmonised into one voice again. It crescendo and then came to a halt. There was nothing there. Now there was no noise. He was too late.
He despaired as he washed the dirt and blood from his hand. The tormenting noise had gone but the silence it had left behind was much worse.
SHORT STORY COMING SOON
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Coldford is known as the Shady City for a reason. It comes as no surprise that some really shady things have happened there. The press is forever swarming the streets in search of the best story. Here are five of the top most shocking headlines (so far at least).
MAYOR FELTZ REPORTED MISSING
Welcome to Coldford! One of the most pressing stories in the media lately is the disappearance of Mayor Jim Feltz. With the Feltz family hesitant to speak to many of the news outlets it is up to reporter, Sam Crusow, to uncover the truth. That truth is more sinister than he imagined. It also hints at a much bigger problem than it first seemed. That story takes him to an infamous cabaret join called THE KNOCK KNOCK CLUB. The story explodes from there.
The name Baines is synonymous with musical talent in the city. Vincent Baines, son of the great maestro Frederick Baines, carries that legacy without a doubt. The trouble with Vincent is he suffers from Obsessive Personality Disorder. He becomes fixated. His empathy drives him to distraction.
Enlisted by the wealthy Beckingridge family, his new pupil seems plagued with issues of his own. Only the beautiful music can stop Vincent spiralling whilst he uncovers what is truly going on behind the ominous walls of Beckingridge Manor.
Call them devout, call them a cult. One thing not to call the Church of Wigan is shy of expression their faith.
Located on the island of Hathfield, just a short ferry ride from the city, the Church of Wigan has been present for centuries. Over those centuries there have been rumours of sacrificial practices and abuse cover ups.
There have been many who have left the city for the island, never to return. Families have reported after joining the church, their loved ones have never been the same. Now, the church has started to spill into the city, making their presence felt with Hell fire.
THE BOSS PRISON ON LOCKDOWN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A DECADE
Coldford correctional, better known as The Boss, is a Hellish home for the worst of the worst in the city. Quietly it looms over the north. That was until a lockdown was called for the first time in many years, leaving those on the outside completely dark as to what was going on within.
When we are able to hide behind a screen we lose that little bit of our humanity. Without seeing someone face to face you can lose empathy.
The internet is a dark place and when you are online in Coldford you can be sure to expect the worst.
A paricular troll going by the screen named PINDROP25 has certainly caused a lot of real life havoc. Responsible for kidnapping, terror attacks and the ruin of many a reputation it seems like they can’t be stopped. Enter the specialist team.
Coldford City aka The Shady City consists of several different areas, each Hell bent on protecting its own lot. Each has its heroes and villains. It’s up to you to decide which is ultimately good or evil.
THE PENNS: MAIN
Arguably one of the most influential families in Coldford. Hailing from City Main, they carry with them, royal titles. The Marquis de Penn, gifted the land where Main now stands several centuries ago, set up for his lineage to grow in strength with every generation.
The Penns have had to survive a long time in the shades of Coldford so they’re no stranger to ditching the crown and getting their hands dirty.
THE MACKS: BELLFIELD
Unlike the Penns, the Macks are a working class family. The rule Bellfield from their whiskey distillery.
Led by BRENDAN MACK, supported by his five sons, the Macks of Bellfield are a charming bunch. They are also quite notorious. Bombings, assassinations, riots and football thuggery are just some of the things they carry in their reputation.
The Mack Distillery, located on Love Street in Bellfield.
THE BERGMANS: KINGSGATE
The diamond merchants came to Coldford from Levinkrantz quite recently in their history. Patriarch, HOWARD BERGMAN, is a gentle man and who finds the idea of war appalling. His sister, SOPHIE congenitally deaf Law Maker, feels differently and has much more bite.
Howard has worked hard to keep his family safe by not getting involved in the violence of the place. Trouble is, that spread is likely to find him one day. He can’t avoid it forever.
THE OWENS: ABBOTSFORD
Loud, rambuncious and with an aim that never misses.
Led by Captain Charles ‘CHICK‘ Owen aka The Cappy, the Owens have always gone from strength to strength. They are ustoppable for most in that they have no moral code. There is not a low they won’t stoop to.
The Cappy’s only son, Bernard ‘BUDDY‘ Owen, is the son and heir and boy is that an issue for the Owen INC CEO. Buddy is not like his father. He is more interested in frat boy shenanigans with his KAPPA SO bros.
Will he toe the line and become the ruthless captain of industry his father is, or will he lead Owen Inc to a completely different future? Either way, the city waits with baited breath.
There are many more families in Coldford all with their grudges and alliances. For more check out the Knock Knock series, free to read HERE.
Throughout the Shady City you will find many brands and stores crying for your attention. Whilst the place seems stuck in the past, held in the age of recession the future is still trying to push through. Here are some of the notable websites and brands you should be aware of, as well as the dark stories that lie underneath them.
COBY GAMES INC
Located in the Motherboard, in the Cardyne area of the city, Coby Games is the tech hub of Coldford City. Produced there are the latest in video games, movies as well as cutting edge technology. If you have the latest phone or device, you can rest assured Coby Games is behind it.
Like all things in Coldford there is a dark history to this.
Coby Games CEO, Joshua found himself entangled in what became known as the FREEFALL massacre, where 59 rich and elite in city were drugged and thrown from the top of BECKINGRIDGE TOWER.
Josh, thankfully managed to escape with his life. The harrowing incident remained with him though and he could never shake the fact he was could have been number sixty.
HANGOUT
If you want to connect with people in the city then you had better get yourself on the HANGOUT app. it’s a fast and easy way to share pics and updates with friends and family as well as connecting you with thousands of interest pages.
When it was created by a developer named Iris Korillo, there was huge hope for it being able to bring people together.
It didn’t take long before the easy access to people’s lives was used for a more sinister purpose.
The platform became used for blackmail, extortion, petty squabbles and cyber bullying which led a famed actress to commit suicide on live stream.
To this day the app is still one of the most popular and has millions of users, leaving Iris and her team to keep a watchful eye for anyone using it with malicious intent.
LONESOME NIGHTS
One of the most popular video games in Coldford is Lonesome Nights. In a world where kidnapping, murder and sleazy affairs are a slow news day, in the world of Lonesome Nights you are given the opportunity to be the worst criminal you can be.
Since it is popular, the video game has come under intense scrutiny given it’s easy availability to those under eighteen. It has been blamed for a rise in school shootings as well as an increase in violence amongst youngsters. Is a video game to blame, or is the reality of the Shady City so harsh, it makes the LN drug busts look like fun …
The online world can be a place for the most foul creatures to hide. When an online troll calling themselves PINDROP25 threatens to ruin lives, the pressure is on to reveal their true identity.
