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“Rat boy!”

REGGIE pulled open the box excitedly. It was the thirteenth birthday the triplets had celebrated at their Penthouse apartment in City Main. Born and raised there they knew no other place as home. The triplets were always given their gifts in order of age. First was MARCUS. That year he had been given a painting by an artist named Favon. He or perhaps she was from Luen but not much else was known about them. Marcus had taken an immediate shine to the work when the agents brought it into the AUCTION HOUSE. Seeing the joy in his son’s face the father – Reginald – had acquired it for himself, compensating the agents and the artist handsomely.

Marcus was already making plans for the appropriate place to hang the piece – which showed a sun lit scape with an ominous fleet of boats approaching a peer – when SIMON – the second born triplet – was given his gift. He was delighted with a set of boxing gloves along with a new punch bag. Simon had a lot of frustration their parents observed. It was good for him to have a hobby that could put his anger to good use. The warehouse would be a great place for Simon to train when he wasn’t at the gym.

Finally came the baby of the group. As Reggie opened the box a black nose with long whiskers peeked out. Reggie laughed with joy and pulled a fully grown, black rat out by the scruff of it’s neck.

“Oh God,” the boys’ mother, Rita cried in dismay. She had an aversion to rodents. “Keep that away from me.”

Still holding it by the scruff of the neck Reggie looked into it’s beetle black eyes with a smile. It’s nose twitched at him. He turned to Marcus sat on the floor by the fire just to the left of him.

“What do you think?” He asked, seeking his brother’s approval. He dropped the rat into his lap.

Marcus lifted the creature into his hands and examined it. He adjusted his spectacles on his nose to assure he was getting the best view possible. His lip curled.

“Rodents carry disease you know,” he said. He threw the rat back to Reggie.

As Reggie caught it the rat squeaked. He turned to Simon. He lifted the rat so it was facing his brother, squeezing it’s body so that it squeaked at him. “What do you think Si?”

“You’re a fucking freak,” was Simon’s reply. He gave a sardonic a smile.

“I’m going to plant him in your bed so he can crawl up your arse,” Reggie teased.

“Please boys,” Rita interrupted them. As she passed by Reggie she tousled his thick blonde hair, in desperate need of a comb. “My baby is just interested in nature, aren’t you baby?”

“Sure am mother,” Reggie agreed turning the rat back to face him again.

“So what are you going to call that thing?” Simon asked as he slipped from the wine coloured arm chair onto the floor beside his brothers so he could get a closer look.

Reggie shook his head. “You don’t give them names. You grow too attached then.”

Reginald and Rita watched the triplets.

“A rat? You brought him a rat?” She asked her husband.

Reginald shrugged his shoulders. His mind was still occupied with work and the party that the triplets would be having at the auction house later that night. More gifts and well wishes from the auction house staff and benefactors.

“It’s what he asked for,” he reminded her.

She shivered, watching Reggie let the rat crawl along his arm from his hand to his shoulder, it’s worm like tail wrapping around him.

***

ALBANS school was an exclusive, privately taught facility in the city was where the triplets attended. It wasn’t quite the breeding ground of success that the PETTIWICK school in Filton was but it had produced mayors, business owners and some of COLDFORD CITY’S most prestigious names such as the HARVESTER brand.

The school provided boarding facilities which Rita would never have the triplets use. They were dropped off each morning if not by their parents then by a driver. Marcus was the one to lead them inside. The boys and girls were taught in separate areas and it wasn’t until recess time they could mix in the central courtyard.

That morning, Jill Danver saw Reggie stood by himself. His black back pack was hanging over one shoulder, his attention focused on a hand held electronic video game called Yeager Falls that was popular at the time. He was normally never too far from his brothers so she saw the opportunity an approached him.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

It was now the day after his birthday but the sentiment was appreciated all the same. He switched off the game and looked up at her. She was a skinny thing, a couple of years older than him. She had long brown hair which hung in straw like strands. Her teeth seemed too large for her mouth and her nose a little too small for her face. She had something of a rodent like quality Reggie noted. She lifted the grey pleated skirt of the Albans uniform, flashing lacy pink panties underneath.

“Want a little birthday present?” She teased suggestively.

Reggie raised his eyebrows. He had read how rats, attached to electrodes that stimulated an orgasm, would continuously push the button. They would forget their young, forget food and water, they would forget all else until they died. Humans weren’t much different, Reggie surmised as she took his arm and started to tug him towards the gym hall, a square grey building that stood alone from the rest of the school. It was known as the place to go for amorous students.

Reggie pulled back. “Wait,” he said. “There’s something I want to show you first.”

“Really?” She was intrigued. She had already seen Reggie’s penis. It was a little crooked from what she could tell but she didn’t have many others to compare it too.

Reggie swung his back pack gingerly round to his front. It was open slightly. He pulled open the zip and reached inside. When he pulled out the black rat she cried out.

“Don’t you like him?” Reggie mocked. “At least I think it’s a him,” he said turning the rat over and inspecting its genitals.

Jill gasped. “That’s disgusting. You shouldn’t have that here. You are disgusting!” She was starting to become hysterical as Reggie held it out to her. “You’ll have that damn thing taken off you. You are such a creep.”

Reggie grinned. “If you say anything to anyone I’m going to give you the mother fucking plague,” he cheered.

Jill tried to step away from him but he lunged forward and pulled up her skirt. First she felt rat’s tiny claws on her legs. She shrieked again. Her terror caused the rat some anxiety so it did the only thing it could do and sunk it’s teeth into her thigh. Now Jill’s cries became that of pain. She managed to pull away and shoved Reggie as she ran off to the girls’ bathroom.

Reggie learned that day that a rat’s sharp incisors could tear human flesh quite easily.

#amreading a #thriller by @VivikaWidow


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Knock, Knock: Episode 10: Calling Last Orders

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Across the city, detective Hicks of the Coldford City Police Department was surveying his case. Excitement was building around the station. Never had so much time and resources been spent on one case but finally it was proving fruitful. They had been chasing this for a long time.

“It’s been a while agent,” he said. “You’ve been to Hell and back for this but it looks like we’ve finally done it.”

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Hell doesn’t even begin to describe it,” replied Lydia Lowe of the Inter City Task Force. “All that time undercover and it was that reporter who did the heavy lifting in the end.”

Hicks patted her shoulder affectionately. “I’m glad you got to him. He would probably have been dead now otherwise and we never would have gotten to her. When he was taken from here I thought for sure he was a goner.”

Lydia smiled. Hicks was pleased to see working undercover at the Knock, Knock club hadn’t dulled her humour.

“The last time I saw him he was leaving with Lisa’s girl. He was delivering her back to her home and then coming to here. I look forward to chatting to him when he comes in. I had to let him go. I couldn’t risk the kid getting hurt,” Lydia explained.

Lisa, the bubbly Knock, Knock bar maid would arrive at the club later that afternoon to learn of the tragedy that had occurred.

“She’s ran amok in this city for far too long,” Hicks said bitterly. Lydia wholeheartedly agreed. “I’ll call Judge Doyle at the Court House and let her know there is some solid evidence coming her way.” Hicks cheered. “Finally we’ve caught the bitch.”

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***

479

Meanwhile, after divulging his story to me Dennis decided he was no longer safe at the Knock, Knock club. Either I was coming for him with everything I had or Tabitha was. He had backed himself into a corner leaving himself with few options. Men like Dennis have a way of working out of tight spots though.

He came to a familiar door. He knocked twice in an almost musical rhythm. A gaunt, skinny young girl answered.

“Chloe!” Dennis cheered. “I am so glad to see you.”

Chloe lowered her head. Her eyes fixed pitifully on the ground. “I can’t let you in,” she said meekly. “Please go away.”

She tried to close the door but Dennis stopped her.

“What do you mean? Come on, you have to let me in.” He flashed a handsome, charming smile.

Chloe shook her head, still not looking him in the eye. It seemed like tears were close.

“Come on kid,” Dennis pressed. “Please let me in. I’m in a lot of trouble here. People are going to be after me. Do you want me to get hurt?”

Chloe finally looked up. “I can’t Dennis,” she insisted. “Just go away.”

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“Don’t you love me anymore?” he asked. His large, brown eyes pleaded with her.

Tears did spill from Chloe then. “Of course I do,” she sobbed. “More than the whole world.”

Dennis kept his expression soft. “Then let me in.”

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He reached out to push the door open but someone else did it for him.

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Dennis was greeted by the tall, imposing frame of Marcus.

“By all means Dennis,” he said. “Come in.”

Dennis dropped his head. He had no choice. Running would be no use. If Marcus was waiting on him chances were the other triplets would be somewhere nearby. The door locked behind him.

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***

Over at the Knock, Knock club I was beginning to regain consciousness.

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“You’re not a morning person are you?” Tabitha teased. “You look like shit.”

Everything that had happened came flooding back. The little girl lying dead in the street with a bullet wound in her head.

“What did you do to that kid!?” I roared

Tabitha raised an eyebrow. “What did I do?” she returned. “I was keeping her safe you stupid prick and you delivered her straight to the enemy.”

My stomach lurched. My vision was still a little blurry from the knock to the head I had received.

“There I was, standing there, carrying a bowl of ice cream, looking like a total fucking amateur and she was gone.”

“I thought …” I began but Tabitha didn’t let me finish.

“I know what you thought,” she said. “You know for a reporter you have no fucking clue. How long have you been in this city? Open your eyes to what is going on around you. Speaking of fuck wit reporters … “

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“A friend of yours came looking for you.”

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“You remember Madeline, right? Sure you do. All the men like Madeline,” Tabitha said.

Madeline growled. I hadn’t even noticed her being so focused on Tabitha, bleary eyed and possibly concussed.

“Would you listen to yourself?” Maddy snarled. “Do you ever shut up?”

Tabitha ignored her.

“Let us out of here you crazy bitch!” I yelled.

“I’m actually hurt that you still think I’m the bad guy here,” Tabitha laughed. I couldn’t tell if she was being ironic or if she truly meant what she said. “There are much worse things in this city than little old me. I do what I can to fight against it. Do you have any idea what would go down if I didn’t keep a check on things? I’m like a fucking super hero. Some might even be grateful.”

She kicked a knife at her feet between her captives.

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“Here’s a little lesson for you. I’m going to close that door and you are both going to fight it out. Let’s see how moral you are when your lives are on the line. Maybe then you will have some idea of the shit I’ve had to deal with.”

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Either of us could have grabbed that knife and killed her then but we wouldn’t have gotten much farther after that. Tabitha strode with confidence. Inside the Knock, Knock club she had nothing to fear.

“That’s why you’re both in your undies by the way,” she said as a matter of fact. “It’s less of a mess to clean up that way. It would be even easier if you were naked but I’m not that sick.” She laughed at her own joke. “When one of you are dead I pinky promise to open back up again. One less God damn reporter in the world. In the meantime, I have a little kid to bury and it’s not even noon. Thanks for that by the way. Toodles!”

At that she was out of the door. Maddy and I were sealed inside the Knock, Knock club’s hold. I ran to the door and cried through it.

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“Let us out!” I called hammering my fists against the door as though it would do any good.

“It’s no use,” Madeline said behind me.

“We’ll get out of here,” I insisted.

“It’s over Sam,” Madeline said. “I’m sorry.”

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#amreading the #thriller #graphicnovel #knockknock by @VivikaWidow


Will Sam escape? Will the truth of the Knock Knock club be exposed? Continue on to Part 2 to find out!

Sam is on a mission to find the missing mayor and you can now have the complete season 1 of the Knock Knock series on the go! Download for kindle at the link below. Free on Kindle Unlimited.

Cheese Louise (Part of the Myths and Tales collection)

I know as you read this you will find my predicament quite silly. After all, who in their right mind would want to be made of cheese? I certainly didn’t. It was quite accidental. I’ve just had to learn to live with it. The magic I possess has been passed down to me through the generations of women in my family. Dad was a little weary of it, especially when he had to spend a week with an extra head. The extra head was great for heightened senses but not so good for his job as a buttoned down insurance salesman. Poor dad struggled to converse with his clients. Not everyone was accepting as we were. Even with the second head and other little magic mishaps, dad loved mum all the same.

As I grew older the magic became strong in me. Every time I sneezed I would set fire to the coffee table. We would chuckle and put the fire out. Not necessarily in that order.

The magic was difficult to control and when it was mixed with a clumsy gene it was positively dangerous. It was actually written somewhere that my great grandmother – a well respected witch – had been asked by the villagers for help to make their crops grow. Grandmama was only too happy to oblige. Soon the village had more food than they could eat but poor Grandmama had blown herself up in the process, which brings me to my current situation.

Most witches opt for a black cat as their familiar. Sometimes an owl or even a raven – so I have been told – will do the trick. I had opted for three white mice. That was my first mistake.

Squeaky, Screetchy and Clive – that would be the mice – were the best familiars any witch could ask for. They were cute, fun and always greeted with a squeak and a smile.

They loved cheese as most mice do, at least in cartoons. (I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this). One day the local store was out of the brand the mice liked best so I thought I could save myself some money and make my own cheese. Now, not every girl has a cow at home and even for those who do, who has time for all that churning? Not me! I would conjure the best cheese my little mice ever tasted.

I had everything I needed. The mice watched in eager anticipation from their cage. With a sway and a swoop, a jump and a loop I set about making my magic cheese. That was when it happened. In my nostrils I felt a tickle. I tried to hold it back, I really did. A loud sneeze escaped me and the whole thing back fired. Instead of a mountain of tasty cheese for my mice I instead became cheddar.

Its taken some adjusting, like keeping myself constantly refrigerated. I had a boyfriend who was allergic to dairy. Needless to say that didn’t last very long. But my mice are happy. In fact they are positively giddy when they see me…

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The Capacity to Love

I look around and what do I see?
A chorus of people crying ‘Please help me!’
‘My problem is great, more so than theirs.
You are the one to soothe my cares!’

So who is first? Who deserves it the most?
Perhaps the downtrodden or the benevolent host?
A special place lies for those who will try,
For they are the ones who only in solitude will cry.
They carry their burden in quiet despair,
So to help them first would only be fair.

I have the capacity for love,
It was sent to me from the being above.
It swells in my heart to see the hateful shove,
For I have the capacity to love.

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Coming soon as a web series from Torrance Media

Little List of Doom

I once had a little red notebook. It could rest quite comfortably in the palm of my hand. I was only twelve at the time this all happened but I had pretty small hands. Anyway, this book had been in my family for generations. Lots of the pages had been torn out. It didn’t seem like much when I found it amongst the boxes in the attic. We were clearing out junk and I pulled this little red notebook from the dustiest box, hidden in the darkest corner.

“What’s this?” I asked my mum.

Her eyes widened. She was never one for dramatics but I saw a true look of fear on her face that day mixed with general bewilderment. “That was your gran’s,” she replied.

My gran had lots of weird belongings. I remember some of the strange statues we had found after she moved to sunnier climates. They looked eerily like little people carved out of wax. Some some of them had needles sticking in what I would imagine would be very painful places. Mum melted all of the dolls down and threw them away. My gran was a little weird. I always thought so but as a kid it was really fun to be around. When I stayed over with her she would show me all sorts of old books and tell me ghost stories. I said I could handle it but she told them so vividly that I would wake up in the middle of the night and swear that the ‘goober man’ was watching me. ‘Goober man’ was one of her favourites. He was a dusty old creature who stalked the ancient streets where my gran lived. The fingers and toes of little girls – just like me – were his favourite delicacy. He had long thin strands of hair covering a liver spotted head. His eyes were bulbous and yellow. His fingers were long and he had sharp teeth for gnawing on little bones. He sounded awful. I didn’t want a visit from him. As I said gran loved telling me stories of ‘goober man’. She would see how scared I would be getting and she would laugh. She was a little strange.

“Can I keep this?” I asked my mum of the little red book.

Mum wrinkled her nose. “It’s all rotten and there are hardly any pages left.”

I agreed but I did like the red cover. It gave the notebook some importance. Mum shrugged her shoulders and continued sorting the junk so I slipped the book into the back pocket of my jeans and helped.

That night when everyone – mum, dad and my little brother Ray – had gone to sleep, I kept my night light on and finally had a look at my new red notebook. There was an inscription inside that read:

ENEMY LIST; ENEMIES BEWARE. GONE FOREVER.

This actually made me smile. Even the most patient and tolerant of us would love the chance to make certain people in our lives disappear. One name came to mind – Stacey Willen. She was a nasty girl in my class who had being going out of her way to make my life a misery since we first started school. She would tease me about my hair, my clothes and pretty much everything about me. She had her loyal band of supporters who laughed at her jokes that really weren’t that funny. They were all so eager to gain her approval that they wouldn’t even help me up when she pushed me into the mud. They just stood there like grinning hyenas like it was the best comedy in the world. Just that day I had been sat underneath the tree reading a book. It was a very sunny day. The tree was offering a nice cooling, shady breeze. I was enjoying my reading, blocking out the nonsense screaming of my classmates in the school yard. Stacey must have spotted me from across the yard and felt unable to leave me content. She marched over to me and snatched the book from my hands.

“Give me that back!” I protested.

Stacey sneered. She wasn’t particularly bright. She opened the book in the middle and spat on the pages. Not quite having caused enough havoc she turned to the end and ripped out the last three pages. Seeing I wasn’t reacting she got bored and threw the book back at me, hitting me hard on the arm.

Staring at my gran’s enemy list I took a pen from the night stand. It had thick black ink. She would have to be the first name. STACEY WILLEN. Content with myself I turned off my light and fell into a comfortable nights sleep.

The next morning when I arrived at school I had half expected Stacey to be there to greet me, somehow knowing I had added her to my enemy list. To my surprise her usual band of supporters were gathered but there was no Stacey.

“She has just disappeared. Her parents say she was in her room last night and when they went to check on her she was gone! They think she has ran away. The police were around and everything,” Stacey’s appointed ‘second in command’ was telling the others.

Stacey disappeared? After I had added her to my enemy list? Surely this was just coincidental. I knew my gran was weird but surely she wasn’t that weird?

Mr Perlman was the caretaker at the school. He was always shouting at the kids and he spat when he spoke. He was a bitter old crank and never had a nice word to say about anyone, even sweet old Mr Faben – the headmaster – who was technically his boss.

He sat at a table in the entranceway making sure the students made their way to class in a timely and organised manner. He wore a battered old hat that was once red but now yellowy and in desperate need of a wash.

“Move it along Wilson!” he spat at me even though he could clearly see I was moving to my first class. I turned and looked at him to verify exactly what it was he was shouting at me for. I had after all just crossed the threshold into the school. He pointed savagely at his brown forehead. “Are you a moron!? I said move along!”

I shook my head and grunted. I took out my red notebook and smiled to myself as I wrote down, in heavy letters, MR PERLMAN. It did make me feel much better. I walked along to my class. If I had turned at that moment I would have noticed the seat where Mr Perlman had been in just moments before, empty except for the battered old hat.

That afternoon over lunch I saw Mr Faben wandering around the hall looking for Mr Perlman. I didn’t think anything of it. I just saw it that the student body was getting a break for an afternoon both from Stacey Willen and Mr Perlman so it was win win. I overheard the girls at the table next to me discussing the maths test we were to have later that afternoon. They were in my class, they knew me well by name but never invited me to join them. It seems they thought I was a little odd. They hadn’t met my gran. As the girls left the lunch room, offering me but a fleeting glance I began to think of how under prepared I was for the maths test. I and many twelve year olds would much rather be doing anything else than sitting a maths test so for kicks I took out my red notebook once again. This time I added MISS PARSON AND THE S32 MATHS CLASS to the enemy list.

Eventually the bell rang and I swung my bag over my shoulder and took a deep breath. I arrived at my maths class and it was empty. Everyone had gone, even Miss Parson.

Whilst the school was in turmoil trying to find out where an entire class of students, a rookie maths teacher and the caretaker would have disappeared to I slipped my red enemy list back into my pocket. I was going to have to learn to use it wisely…

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Coming soon as a web series!

The prophecy of Lord Bale

It is said that the great Bale, Lord of all stars and the brightest illumination in the night sky once fell to the land below. His fall was so great that his form began to change. He emerged from the waters with skin like black velvet and eyes so bright they could not be looked upon directly.

He wandered the lands as a man and each night he would look above and long to return to his realm. One day he stumbled across a woman who went by the name of Anna, a dweller of the land. He felt such a sudden rush of affection for her that his starlight energy began to burn white hot.

Anna gazed into Bale’ eyes and was able to withstand their strength. Bale could only maintain his energy whilst he was near her. He loved her and she became a part of him, the crucial part that kept him burning. He offered her his hand and would give her the world above and below. Anna wished for nothing more to be a part of Bale, to offer light to the lands. Before she departed her dwelling and she bid farewell to all she knew the tears she shed filled the rivers. Everything she owned built the mountains and her earthly flesh fed the baby saplings of the woods. Her grief at the loss of the life she once knew was left behind as beauty of the land. High in the realm of the great Bale she felt a true happiness never known to a humble dweller.

Each year, on midsummer’s eve the great Lord Bale can be seen taking his love through the sky in a dazzling display of greens and blues. The aurora reminds the dwellers of the love the Great Lords and Ladies have for them. One day, in a great flash of light, he will return to the lands below.

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The Bus Ride to Hell

I was a bad seed.

My whole life I wasn’t what one would call an angel. So it came as no surprise when I passed and death said,

“It’s Hell for you my dear friend Gus. You have been so bad you must take the bus.”

Not even the courtesy of a ride of a quick journey into the seventh circle for my eternal damnation.

So there I was, at the bus stop for the direct line to Hell. Torrential rain was falling and there was no shelter – although it did have the strong smell of urine that would normally accompany one.

Of course the bus was over an hour late. I was cold, miserable and just wanting to get to Hell already.

Death took some glee in my punishment.

“That’s what you get for being such a shit! You’re not going to like this, one little bit.”

The bus arrived. The most broken down, hideous piece of metal on four wheels you could ever hope to step aboard. The driver had a face so sour it could peel an onion.

“Get on!” he snapped. “I ain’t got all day.”

Death pushed me on board.

The seats were torn, broken and mostly filled with graffiti.

REG WAS ETERNALLY DAMNED ERE’

Death slumped beside me.

“I hope you are ready to press that bell. The next stop for you is the depths of Hell.”

Rude driver, broken chairs and a sticky floor you wouldn’t dream of touching. The bus to Hell was pretty bad. I think I’ve been on worse.

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Coming soon as a web series from Torrance Media!

Four Sisters

There once lived four sisters, who remained very close,

Each had a husband and children to boast.

With a neat house each, lined in a row,

status and wealth clearly on show.

The first was named Scarlett, fiery and wild.

She and Lance had only one child.

Lance had been working late quite a lot,

having fun with his secretary, until he was caught.

Scarlett cooked him his favourite meal,

laced with an ingredient that was sure to appeal.

By the third mouthful, Lance was dead.

He should have considered his wife; before sharing another’s bed.

Then there was Ruby, elder and smart.

She and Jeff shared a love of art.

Jeff was a failed painter, Ruby had the cash,

so Jeff raided her personal stash.

Gone was the wealth she had scraped and saved.

Jeff didn’t care as long he had his way.

Ruby took a gun; no one would steal from her.

Fifteen shots were fired; it was all a blur.

Elder still was the sister named Rose.

Both she and Archie were writers of prose.

Archie favoured filling his day with drink.

He would hit Rose and wouldn’t think.

Rose had had enough as most of us would.

He didn’t treat them as a father should.

She took up the knife the next time he raged.

She stabbed and stabbed so that she may be saved.

The eldest of the sisters was a lady named Blanche.

Her husband, Taylor, had grown up on a ranch.

Taylor was an outdoors-man; he really loved to hike.

This was something that Blanche herself did not like.

She accused him, beat him and screamed in his ear.

‘Why would you rather be out there than in here?’

One day when it had all gotten too much,

Taylor was found hanging by his hutch.

So the four sisters, always remained close.

The judge had seen that stand out the most.

They once had neat houses, standing in a row.

Now they wait together, for their time to go.

The Myths and Tales webseries will be coming soon from Torrance Media.

Click HERE to read Vivika Widow’s Myths and Tales!

Princess and the Beetle (part of the Myths and Tales collection)

 

CThere once was a princess who lived far away.

She was in love with a prince so they eloped one day.

On the way to the church, they received terrible news.

A dragon was loose so the prince had to choose …

PNB

The much loved poem, The Princess and the Beetle, joins the Myths and Tales web series and we couldn’t be more excited.

The official release date of the web series will be released soon so don’t forget to check back.

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Click HERE to read the full poem…

Coming soon as a web series from Torrance Media. Directed by Leo ST Paul (The Walk) and written by Vivika Widow. Check out the trailer!