Last Speech

“People of Insipiens! I am not going to lie – we are all going to die today. But there is no turning back now. We can hide and cover in our hovels, basements and sheds. Or we can rise and show them, they can’t just do as they wish with a whole nation. We can make a stand! We can show others that this is no way to live. To give up everything we have – food, water, our dignity and even our children... It is no way to live! Today our blood is going to cover our lands, and tonight our children will be orphaned. Still, they will get to be proud when they get older. Their parents made a stand. So they can, too.

“We all knew this day would come when they sent in the drones. The drones, which were supposed to help. Brought us new technology for our sake. They wanted so little in return. And some of us said it was too good to be true, but we all wanted to believe. And when they asked for more, we gave it to them because they helped us so much, they cannot be unjust. And again, they asked for more. And again, we still gave it to them. We gave everything! And when we could not give anymore, they took our children.

“Today this all ends! We stand like no one has before. They took everything we had, and that is what made us this strong – we have nothing to lose. We have to show them that they would do better if they feared the power of the people who have nothing to live for.

“Today we fight for ourselves! Today we fight for a brighter day to come! Today we fight for the future of our children!

“NO ONE IS STOPPING US UNTIL OUR LAST BREATH!”

Dead weight

I was lying on the bed, my hands hanging down and touching the floor. She hugged me and placed her head on my cold chest  still crying a bit. I stepped closer to us, trying to touch her back with my fingers. Disturb the rivers of sweat on her back. They didn't obey me.

I've found her on a small website. In theory it was meant for young people like me for finding girls, but in reality it was a site for prostitutes. She advertised herself there, captivating images and a funny, yet clever description.

When I first met her on a windy night it was obvious  that she wasn't even close to 25 like she said. Her eyes and her behavior gave her away. She was only 19 that night, 20 in a few days.

I only looked for an escort, no strings attached, but she stuck around. Just like that. No question asked; she just followed me after the goodbye kiss at her apartment. I guess she was afraid to go in for some reason. Maybe a quick-tempered dad or an angry brother. I will never know.

I didn't call her back after that night. And that morning. And that afternoon. I just sent her home with an extra hundred euros, and told her not to call me again. She did. Even when I told her not to. A foul girl.

I couldn't resist her voice was too sweet and too intriguing for and “old” champ like myself. I took her to a nice restaurant; she ate like a starving pig.

Her clothes were a bit old and rugged, so our next step was the shopping mall close by. She tried to look like a real woman and choose everything for herself, but she ended up being clumsy and looked even more childish. I bought her the clothes she chose, but rather than calling it a day and return to our hotel for some action, I hadn't given up.

We stopped at the next store and this time I was the one doing the hard work. I bought her clothes that magnified her beauty even more. She just stood there and started dancing to a distant melody. Everybody was captivated by her moves like falling leaves at a chilly afternoon. I dragged her to the next store after that a strong, crimson lipstick and I could barely could resist kissing her before we got back to our hotel.

Our meetings continued no matter what I told her. It wasn't about the money or the things I got her. She started to think that I was her guardian. And lover. To be honest I enjoyed the latter a lot more.

She often got in trouble. One night a bunch of drunken fellows started asking too many questions while she was heading home. They didn't give up, watched her every step and followed her. She ended up calling me for help. I told her to switch to a different bus, while I caught a taxi and rushed to one of the stops.

When she got off the bus, the boys did the same. I casually walked next to them, quickly took out my baton and broke their legs and hands. The fight was over in a few seconds, the young ones scattered all around the bus stops, crying for help and screaming.

The time I turned to her, she was already collapsed on the ground, crying and whispering, “I don’t want this to happen again. Not again. Not again…”

I took her into my arms, and put her in the taxi. I found two hundred euros in my wallet what made the driver forget everything he saw.

I was hoping for a quiet, calm night to prepare for my big day, but she was back in my bed again. “Why are you so afraid of going home?”

She whispered some nonsense as an answer and kissed me. “Listen, I really need to know this. If there is something hurting you there, I can make some arrangements.”

Rather than answering me, her head and red, curly hair disappeared below our blanket. I tried to ask her again, but damn! She was extremely good in bed contrary to her childish clumsiness in real life.

I just sighed and gave up after she finished. She just simply loved everything about me, and I … I don’t know. I was just enjoying her fragile soul.

My death came faster than I thought. One night, one of the numerous nights we spent together, they arrived. Five dark figures led by one tall, slim woman broke in through the windows. They dipped their rusty knifes in my heart and killed me before I could even get up or at least warn her. I was getting weak.

She just stood at the table like a beautiful, frozen statue. They didn't touch her; they just left as unexpectedly as they have arrived.

She stepped close to me, hugged my dead body and placed her head on my chest. Her salty tears mixed with my dark blood. I was hovering above us; my ghostly figure chained to her with a hollow ray of light.

This was the first time I saw her astral body, and she was even more captivating than in real life. Her fragile body hid a powerful spirit inside; crimson, glowing streaks of energy flowed covering her body as her anger and fear slowly built up. She was almost as powerful as me before I gave everything up.

I flew closer, and whispered into her ears, “Avenge me. I will teach you how.” She looked up even more frightened than before. She heard me.

That was the day I had gained my second apprentice.

Slut and Lion

“You know why I called you here, right?” her smile almost split her face.

“Sure,” was the bored answer.

“I had to get to know you. You are, like, the man of my dreams.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. I wanna see the face of my friends when I meet them next time and that body of yours will be next to me. And don’t forget that pretty face. We would be the perfect couple,” his eyes followed the movement of her hand as she suggestively caressed herself from her neck to her right hip.

“Is that so?”

“I know you like what you see. I can see it in your eyes. But if you wanna play hard to get, I can make it worth your while. I have more money than smaller countries. I can pay you weekly or whatever… I can even get a lawyer to make a contract for you,” she pulled out her cellphone and started to look at her contacts.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I knew you were attracted to me,” her smile grew so big that the cat from Alice’s wonderland would have been envious of it. She pulled her chair closer to his and put her hand on his knee slowly sliding it up his thigh.

The guy grabbed her hand.

“Yeah, we won’t need that,” his voice was dripping menace. From his fingertips black claws spurted as he flexed his fingers. Even her scream didn’t mute the sound of bones snapping. He stood, wiped the blood off his hands and slowly walked away.

Room in Heaven

My room is quite spartan. Well, that’s what a criminal like me deserves. 3 meters wide, 3 meters long and 3 meters high. Do you see a pattern here? One hole, where I get my food, shit / pee bags for my suit and where I can put all my trash. Ah yes, and one door that’s always closed.

They keep me in the dark, the only light I see is when the small hole opens. It is kind of depressing, but well... I found a way to actually take advantage of that, and make my time more enjoyable here.

When you spend too much time in a dark, isolated and totally silent environment your mind goes crazy, I mean totally crazy. You start to see things, to hear things.

I use those hallucinations to furnish my room. A sofa next to the wall – black leather, good for sitting on it with friends and using it for sleeping. One small nightstand next to it, a brown lamp and a few painkillers. You know, I often get a migraine; I might be allergic to leather.

One big TV in front of the sofa, a few video game consoles and a good sound system. 24/7 access to all channels, Netflix subscription and porn. Lots of it. Of course, there is also a PC connected to the TV, and I can use a wireless mouse and keyboard to control it. Because I’m an elitist and rich.

There is also a small desk, an extremely comfortable chair next to it, and my favorite typewriter. Yeah, a mechanical typewriter. I love to listen to the harsh sounds of the keys; it’s simply gratifying. I can hear my neighbors banging their heads against the wall when I write. I just don’t care. For fucks sake, I’m an artist, I have to create. Without that, I’m nothing.

Put me in a cage with nothing in it, and even though I might go crazy, I still find ways to create. Furniture, equipment and ways of having fun. Sometimes I just listen to the music coming from the old gramophone. Blues, an amazing harmonica solo partnering up with a bass guitar and a rusty, tired voice.

Sometimes the room expands to let more people in. Usually a blues band, whose recordings I was listening to previously. A few people and a bar. Smoke dancing in the air to the heartwarming rhythms, and a beautiful girl sitting next to me on the sofa whispering naughty things into my ear. She hugs my left arm; she nuzzles against my shoulder and purrs like a bored cat which wants to play. She occasionally kisses my cheek, licks my neck and her fingers are drawing circles on my chest. I just reach for the whiskey on the nightstand and take a cigar, while putting a few painkillers in my drink. Because fuck the world.

While I smoke, the puffs coming from my mouth form strange but worryingly familiar figures. They dance and tell a story. One of them is like a woman, dancing around lightly with a paintbrush that’s creating slowly decaying streaks of smoke. The other one is a man, who is looking at the woman with lust and uncertainty. A story of a man, who went crazy and killed his only true love. A writer, who lost all his will to live, lost all his will to write and gave up.

In Shit and Blood

This night was just getting fucking awesome. Muron needed another challenger like a tick in his ass. Yeah, that last one was a real pain in the ass. His side was bleeding and there were a few cracked ribs in the mix of pain coming with every step. But he wouldn’t back down. Not right then, when the goal was so close. This would be the last one.

With a deafening roar, he rushed his challenger, caught him behind his neck with two paws and let his claws out, sinking them deep into muscle. The other made a sound of pain as he let his right hook go with the strength of a freight train. The challenger also used his claws leaving behind red lines that started to weep blood immediately.

Muron was blinded by blood and was also dizzy from the hit. He lost his grip and the other one shook him off. The next instant he felt another hit to his bloody side right where there was one of those little cracks on his ribs. He barely registered the pain of shreds of muscle being torn away by claws over the breaking of the rib.

Falling to his other side, Muron’s cry was so full of anger and pain it made the others standing around in a circle look at each other uneasily with either compassion or fear. He liked to think being so young was an advantage, that what he lacked in experience he made up for it with enthusiasm and the excitement only the really young can muster up. But he never had to work through pain like this. He never had to fight for his life. Doing that for the first time right then wasn’t such a good timing on his part.

He felt the breath of his opponent on his neck; he was gonna tear it out. He waited without moving while those canines got closer to his jugular. As the opponent’s winning roar came to an end, he struck. Muron rolled to his back. ‘The idiot thinks I’m gonna go down this easily,’ he thought as he swiped his claws through the challenger’s abdomen that was left without defense. The smell of shit hit the air like a punch to the gut as the other’s intestines got raptured while they were being dragged out of him.

Muron’s opponent went down with a sound so haunting that the spectators started crying out for him. The only mercy he got was a fast death. Muron soundlessly tore his throat out. He got up, looked everyone in the eye, then limped away. No one dared to follow him – there was no more challenge to his authority.

This is how the new leader of the lion pride was born in shit and blood.