The Flier-Girl’s Hitlist

Come and read this insane tale of a girl who murders her enemies and flies a plane. I dare you.

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The Flier-girl’s Hitlist

The Bookreader stood in the purple room, the ancient texts swirling around him as illustrations for his guests. The letters were geometric shapes of varying opalescence, obfuscation, and opacity. These levels were meant to cause an awe-ing effect in the viewer, Annie thought. Different levels of information spoke through different levels of color.

“The different levels are within you,” The Bookreader said.

“Couldn’t it be more clear?” Annie asked.

“It is meant to create an open-ness within you,” The Bookreader said.

“Alright,” Annie said. She fell back on her training, and pretended to agree. She was convincing, as she had years of experience with many types of terrifying authority figures.

“Don’t be afraid, Annie. You don’t have to fight this time. The work will be done for you,” The Bookreader said. Annie’s stomach churned. That sounded ominous to her. She didn’t like hidden machinations working around her. Unless it was the hidden gears of her fighter jet, or her teammates, or even her captain, who always fell into her own designs.

The purple room wasn’t really purple. It was dark, but the glow of the texts caused it to seem purple. She strained to see past the glowing, and the texts obliged her by becoming dim. The darkness revealed an image of herself, fifteen-years-old. She smiled at her old body, but with a little sneer of contempt that she couldn’t control. She wanted to remember what she was like back then, just so she could gloat about how she’d changed. The memories played, and just like that, she could feel the way she did back then.

The image of the giant ship crashing down emerged. She loved to play that over and over. It was thrilling. It was like a sky whale, but really it was more like a sky cruiseline. When it soared, like it was supposed to, it was beautiful. It had perfectly round jets the size of a house. It was a double-decker, too, and to hoovered like a majestic, bloated bastard. Little windows were lit up warmly, against the steel-colored exterior. It did not exist to be practical, but it existed because it was possible. The fairgrounds were packed with people, flocking towards fried food and spectacle. Annie was excited, because she was going to fly the little buggies in formation with her crew. Flying was second-nature to her, and there was no fear in her. The crowd didn’t really matter that much to her, either. She just wanted to get in the air.

There was the image of her crew each taking off, one by one, and finally her turn. Then, the few minutes of glorious freedom, flying over the fair. She still remembered how that felt, because it was one of those first-time thrills. She looked up and saw the amazing sky cruise, and felt that feeling of awe. It was one of those reverberating feelings, that would reverberate into her future, and she knew it then. Then, it spun out of control. She zoomed her buggy to the side, escaping wind suction and debris that had become airborne. She thought that if she could get behind it’s roll and speed away, then she’d be safe. The thing was unpredictable, though. Her cool mind kept searching for the right direction to go. Soon, she found herself blocked in on all sides by broken shopfronts and bleachers. That’s when she tried to go up. It was a useless move, as the buggies weren’t meant to go very high. She parked the tiny buggie, no bigger than a golfcart and extremely light, on some flat piece of a hotdog stand. She got out of the buggie, and just watched the chaos continue. She knew a flying piece of crap could dislodge her head, but there wasn’t much else she could do. The hologram of Bill Clinton popped out of her buggie, telling her to get back in the ship, in a glitched voice. It made a part of her chuckle. She’d picked that as her voice command, for whatever reason.

Annie was so much more than a pilot. Her body was a honed fighter as well. Her team would go on missions, fighting idealists that used violence against civilians. It was a constant fight, against villains who sprung up in various parts of the country. They didn’t come from other places anymore. But, heroes were homegrown as well. Annie had wanted to be a hero since she was a little girl. She was living her dream, and she was addicted to praise and victory. As she grew older, she stopped caring about praise.

“Sorry, captain, but you wanted to be in the lead, didn’t you?” Annie said. The captain saw through her, then. She’d been using him as bait to lead on the enemy pilot, flying a plane known as the Toothy Bear. This was far from being the first time the captain had been her prey. Annie and her little minion girlfriend were constantly making him the butt of their plots. He’d gone from a feared figure to a little man, smelling of shame, since she’d been around. The Toothy Bear was a prized target for Annie. It was no mere conquest for her, though.

Annie hit that garishly painted war plane, and it started to go down. Annie’s emergency lights had been flashing for eighty seconds. She ejected, knowing her enemy would do the same.

“Knife, knife, knife,” she thought. She was going to take him out whenever he landed and deployed his emergency raft.

She closed in on her enemy, jackknifing her whole body to strike him. She rammed the knife into his neck, then wrenched it back out. He was shocked, not expecting the attack. He sucked in breath through the hole in his neck, while she splashed onto his raft. Blood and water splashed around her, and she relished the blood of her hated enemy. She had a personal grudge against him. It was complicated, and a long story. He was the first man she’d killed with hand-to-hand combat, and it had been an act of vengeance. It was her proudest moment.

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Annie matured a lot in the next two years. She became more thoughtful and solid, as part of the team. She was still known as a little devil, though.

“Sorry, captain,” Annie said. The captain realized that he was alone in the boat with Annie and her succubus girlfriend, and that he’d been mistaken, thinking she’d matured all that much. Annie shot the butt of the oar at the captain’s forehead, knocking him unconscious. She and her girlfriend finished the mission, leaving their comrades with no one to give them instruction. They spun around at the starting point, thinking the captain was dead, until Annie got back.

“You don’t deserve shit, you know that? You don’t deserve a medal. You should be discharged,” the second-in-command would later say to Annie. Of course, her captain would vouch for her, like he always did. He loved Annie like a daughter.

Back at the group house, the team was celebrating the victory. Really, they were just partying, since they finally had some time off. Annie was spying on one of her teammates. She believed he was going to try and steal her throne as the top flier. He’d been training, and the sink was full of dishes from the massive meal he and his friends had eaten to recharge. She looked at it enviously. She went to the captain’s room, where they were having celebratory whiskey in crystal glasses. She was disappointed to find him sharing a drink with some rich playboy, just another possible sponsor. It was like mixing work with pleasure when those types came to visit. They came to drink and inspect the goods. She hated them with burning passion that matched the burn of the whiskey. The playboy was disgusting, and he was being disrespectful to the captain. Everything he said was nasty and toxic.

“Hey, here’s that gorgeous teenager, now. I’d like to buy and sell her, haha,” the playboy said to the captain. The captain didn’t bother to respond, knowing he didn’t really need to. However, Annie was glowing red hot inside.

“I’d like to gut you like the snake you are, haha, you devil you,” Annie said, mimicking the playful tone he had used, but with her voice quivering a little. She tried to play it off as a joke, but rich men like that don’t allow even the slightest of slights to be leveled at them.

“I want that girl’s foot. Chop it off and send it to me in the mail,” the playboy said. Annie’s fire went ice cold. The captain’s eyes went wide. Annie ran out of the room, shutting the door. She needed a way to get out of this one. Surely, their tactical team would come up with some way to take this man out. Annie hid the rest of the night, nursing a drink, putting faith in her team. She waited for the captain to come and find her, and pull her back to his room. There, things looked very different, and she saw a bag full of rubber prosthetics.

“No,” Annie said.

“I’m sorry. I truly am,” the captain said.

“They look just like a real foot,” a woman said, dressed in white. She held up a small foot, with a plastic sheen.

“You have to be half-blind to think that’s a real foot,” the captain said. He couldn’t help himself.

“Can’t I get a robotic foot, or something? I need my foot to maneuver, and jump, and sneak, and hide. I’ll never be the same,” Annie said.

“We need to do this now,” the captain said.

“Can’t we stop him?” Annie asked. The captain was quiet, and so Annie ran again. She ran to the basement of the house, ducking under scary cobwebs, and getting bit by flying bugs.

“I need to come up with my own plan. All on my own. It’s just me now,” she said to herself, in the darkness.

The darkness of the basement became the darkness of the purple room. The Bookreader had abducted her out of the backyard, while she was escaping.

“Tell me, then, what do the words mean?” Annie asked the Bookreader.

“It is about God,” The Bookreader said.

“Go on,” Annie said.

“She was upset, a long time ago. She went to go and find him, and to get him to come back to her. She made him her own. She made love to him over and over. She was grand in her day, but it came to a close on the last day,” The Bookreader said.

“Wait, who the hell are you talking about? Who’s she?”

“Well, first of all, Hitler was involved in the threesome with the angel,” the Bookreader said.

“What was that?” Annie asked.

“Stop reading,” said a voice. A great light appeared in the darkness. Jesus, the son of God himself, appeared. An angel appeared with him, a beautiful woman.

“Why not? Go ahead and read the book. I’ve been waiting for someone to find this one,” the angel said.

Jesus turned to the angel, and ripped her jaw out of her face. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she fell to the ground majestically. Her wings fluttered in the still air as her body settled.

The Bookreader closed the book he was holding.

“How dare you do that to such a pure and innocent woman. How dare you,” the Bookreader said. His fist jutted out, and smashed the glowing face of Jesus himself. Brains exploded, purple glow gleaming off the surface of the gobs of matter.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” The Bookreader said. He read the rest of the story to Annie, who went on to write an incredible story that sold millions.

Later that evening, in the palace of God, Hitler and the angel waited in doggy-style position for the return of Jesus. They left a space in between them, for him to fit.

“We’re ready,” Hitler said, in a girlish German accent.

“Not tonight,” Jesus said irritably. He felt slighted for a long time after that.

The End

Fun Fact: This story was the dream I had last night. It sort of feels like cheating when that happens. But it was my brain that came up with it. My brain, my story, haha. And, of course, my conscious mind did all the work this morning to make it a coherent story, adding detail. So, thanks for reading!

 

Physical Pain

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A morning without pain, when every other morning was full of it, takes getting used to. Physical pain locks you in, and restricts the number of movements you are willing to take. It changes the way you plan your day. It changes the way you view getting up to the kitchen. A cup of juice, or iced tea, doesn’t seem worth it anymore, because it means triggering the lava in your muscles. A cup of coffee or water is always worth it, though. They’re essentials. Memories of going without coffee or water make your heart race, like an animal in the woods. Except you’re in your house, surrounded by all the things that you need.

The drugs I was taking to reduce my mental pain turned on me one day, and began making my muscles burn. No one knew how long it was going to last. I had to keep on working and surviving, despite it. I had to hide it, too. I had to stop taking the drugs. Slowly, my body cooled, and the winter in my mind returned as well. Still, though, I could move around again. But, it was long enough that I associated pain with so many things. I had to remind myself to love movement again. It sort of made me laugh to do that. I’ve always thought life was sort of bizarre. It’s the only thing I find charming about it.

I wrote this about taking a  break from Kratom….decided to add it as an anecdote to the novel I’m writing. ❤

First kiss scene, from my book about a stalker vampire

Image credit: solid and ect, Hellsing1239161142848

 

“I noticed that I changed a lot, this year. I’m not bothered by the people who bullied me anymore. I just feel like their comments don’t mean as much, anymore. I feel amazing, and powerful, against the world, now,” she said, ramming the fire with her stick. She continued.

“I know people change more quickly when they’re young. They learn super quickly when they’re a baby, and then a little more slowly as a teenager, and so on,” she said.

“I still change a lot, every year. I don’t always recognize myself day to day, honestly. Maybe that’s just me,” I said. It felt good to talk to her, and tell her things that other people found repugnant about me. She made a pensive face at the fire, and I felt worried for her. The moment was quiet, and the fire burned evenly on the large logs. She held her stick still over the fire, like she was fishing or something, and spoke dourly.

“I think some people keep changing. They never just become something. It’s kind of scary, actually. Thinking about growing up used to make me angry. I hated the thought that I’d stop liking candy and buttered noodles someday, for some reason. And then, I became this person, and the old me just disappeared, with all of her fears and passion. What’s even worse, is that some people don’t change that much. They have no idea what it’s like to feel this way, and they never could,” she said. I sensed that she was talking about Raoul. Her mind was ever turning him over, like a hot dog over a flame. Maybe more like a rotisserie chicken, since it went on all day. I knew she felt alone. She was going to reach for a cigarette, and let this moment escape like smoke. I felt that time-stopping fear in my body, looking at her withdrawn posture, that told me I needed to try again.

She’d been so warm to me all night, inviting me into her thoughts. That was one way to get inside. That was my favorite way to start. I realized now how hasty I’d been, every other time I approached her. I really am stupid, like everyone else says about me. I needed to wait for the right moment. Sure, it felt almost like hunting. It felt dishonest, to approach her when she was vulnerable. To get inside her head and draw out that loneliness that she’d been hiding, and use it to get close to her, was just the human mating dance. I got off of the rock I was sitting on, and sat down on hers. I took a moment to look at her closely, her face looking so fine and pretty from that angle. I put my arm around her shoulders, showing her the solidarity that we’d only expressed in words. Squeezing her body against mine, she made a “mfph” sound of pleasure. She didn’t push me away this time. It felt like another time-stopping moment. My inner core had known that she wouldn’t push me away again, but it hesitated to tell me. I could barely function, just knowing I was this close to winning her over. I steeled myself, like I was getting ready to pounce. I needed to do this correctly, now. Any mistake in timing, even breathing, could make her change her mind! Scenarios ran through my head, like flipping through timelines, to find the one successful future. She turned her head to look at me, and my heart raced with fear. The wondering of what made me afraid, exactly, flew by as well.

She appraised my face, filling me with more fear, and then she reached up and put her hand on my cheek. She gently guided me forward. I closed my eyes, and waited for just a second, before she kissed me. I made a “mmf” sound, before I cut myself off in embarrassment, and she moaned back at me. She must have been so ready for me. Soft, squishy lips on mine, gently opening to rub her pretty girl saliva across my own, wasn’t something I’d felt in a while. This was Alice, I reminded myself, to squeeze more pleasure out of my heart. My heart, which only beat because of her presence.

I kissed her expertly. She grabbed on to the front of my shirt, and I knew it was better than anything she’d felt before. Running my hand down her body, she writhed under my warm palm. I ran it down to her thigh, where I grabbed underneath and pulled up. She made more noises, and her lips stopped moving. God, I wanted to taste her blood so badly. That, and other things.

I realized why people believe it’s wrong to be with a young girl, as I held her soft body in my hands, yielding and delicious as whipped cream. She’d never been kissed by a man who’d kissed hundreds of women before. She’d never heard those words of understanding from anyone else before. I would be the first man that she loved this way, and it was all too easy. For the first time, the human race has become aware of how awful it’s own nature is, and it desires to become better. It’s sweet, amazing, and wonderful. Sure, however, I am a being who survives by consuming human lives every night. Should I hold myself to moral standards now? Is now really a good time for that? With all the moral ambiguity I’ve tolerated in order to continue living, why stop now? Maybe, because I care about her, I want to do the right thing. Which would be what? Leaving her hanging, and waiting until she was in her twenties or something? Still not changing the fact that, originally, I had been violating her privacy since the day we met? What made me decide to keep going, in that moment, was the memories of my own suffering. Constant, constant suffering. Now, at last, I had the opportunity to escape that misery. The other moral arguments remained, however, I took my own inner hand and I swept them away. I swept them into a box that I could deal with later. I filled myself up with other arguments. Humans mate, regardless of whether it’s right or wrong. It wasn’t like she was a child. She was old enough to be independent. Just barely, but still. This could be her first independent act. I don’t believe that morals should be followed to the letter, anyway. I smiled to myself, with terrible glee. These fears wouldn’t bother me, now. But in order to stay a somewhat good person, I tucked them in the corner. After all, they might come in handy later.