Plot Medics 

I'm a little over word count again this week, but I'm letting the stories run to their natural length at the moment instead of cutting them to the bone.

Ball and Chain (1058 words)

The humans always brought the new inmates in in daylight. No matter if a monster could bulk, shift, fade or speed their powers were diminished under the blazing eye of the sun. Tapito squinted at the latest batch from inside his cage. He recognised a curtain-lurker, a closet-hider and a big chupacabra. The last human dragged a huge shaggy beast, red-eyed and sharp-clawed at the end of a thick chain. It was something Tapito hadn’t seen before. It had to be one of the wild, outside things. A rare one.

The beast thrust his face against the bars of Tapito’s cage, drool spilling around fangs in his out-thrust jaw. “Hello lunch,”  he growled. “If the human wasn’t here, I’d eat you.”

Tapito bounced up on all four feet, pulling himself up to his full twelve inches. He thrust out his chest and lifted the spines down his back.  “Come and try it big boy!” he yipped back. “I’ll rip off your balls. Heuvos rancheros for breakfast.”

The human yanked on the chain, and the big monster shuffled on. “Hur hur hur. We’ll see, little mouthful.”

“I’ll be waiting. My teeth are like knives. I will bring you pain!” Tapito shouted until the other monster was out of sight. It was slow and shambling now, but they were all like that when the humans brought them in, dosed with potions to make them weak. Tapito had been dragged out from under a little human’s bed, snapping and trying to speed. Blackness had hit him and he had woken up behind bars.

Tapito ran around his cage, sniffing at the locks, sharpening his teeth on the bars, scrabbling at the floor. It was a routine. Any weakness that showed, he would use it. Another human approached the row of cages with the feed. The new inmates and the stubborn ones howled and roared and threw themselves against the bars. The humans jabbed with shiny sticks and the roars and howls became screams. Tapito remembered the shiny stick. He’d taken two of a human’s fingers the first time he’d been fed. The pain had been worth it.

He bared his teeth as a matter of principle when it was his turn. The human unlocked a small door, and poked in a bowl with the end of the stick, then locked the door again. If it was dark, Tapito could have sped through the gap. But the daylight sapped his energy. He had the scars to show what would happen if he tried. Instead, he sniffed at the offering. Pocket lint. What he would give for a juicy dust bunny. As he chewed he thought, as always, of escape.

After the feed, they were let out, watery-eyed under the sun’s fire, to exercise. The bogeys and the lurkers clung to to the shade of the guard-towers and the high, concrete walls. The wind blew in the smell of the desert outside.

As Tapito trotted aroud the dusty yard, the new chupacabra hissed at him, threat vibrating all down his scaly body. Tapito bared his teeth in a manic grin and hunched down for a pounce.  Another chupa, an old lag butted the new one aside. “No trouble, Tapito,” she said, keeping her eyes low. “He just got here.”

“Looked to me like he was asking for trouble, Surita,” said Tapito.

“He’ll learn. Leave him his cojones.”

“Ok. For you.”

Surita hurried the new chupacabra away.

“Hey ‘Pito,” Elmer the bogeyman shuffled up. “Seen the new boy? Big ‘un.”

“Yeah, I met him. He threatened to eat me for lunch.”

They looked over to where the shaggy beast had cornered a key-stealing gremlin. The little creature cowered, long ears drooping. Shaggy looked around to make sure the humans weren’t watching, plucked up the gremlin and swallowed him whole.

”Hey!” yelled Tapito, streaking across the yard. He barrelled into Shaggy’s stomach as fast as he could, head first. “Spit him out!”

Shaggy bent over, retching. The key gremlin rolled out of his mouth, covered in ooze. It scurried away to hide behind a Black Dog. The humans were paying attention now. They barked at each other, and one of them ran in with a shiny stick.

”Big mistake, little mouthful,” said Shaggy. “I’m the Swallowing Shadow. You think this prison will hold me after nightfall? I can go wherever I please. I’m coming for you. And I’ll be hungry.” He howled as the human prodded him and dragged him away on a chain.

“The Swallowing Shadow. Huh, never heard of it,” said Elmer.

“Big mouth, no balls,” said Tapito, but he was worried. Maybe he’d never seen one of those monsters before because they didn’t stay caught. Maybe what it said was true.

Tapito circled in his cage as the sun went down and the stars blazed in the black sky. His sharp toenails clicked on the metal floor as he paced. He would not fall asleep. Now it was dark his big ears could hear every sound, his big eyes tracked every movement.

“Hello supper,” growled a voice in his ear. Tapito leaped so high he banged his head on the top of his cage. Shaggy pushed his head through the bars as if they weren’t there, and opened his mouth like a giant scoop. He shovelled his jaw relentlessly towards Tapito. Tapito scrabbled backwards, feeling the cold steel of his cage pressing against his spine. He couldn’t slide through solid things, like Shaggy. There was nowhere left to go. He gathered his strength, and sped straight down Shaggy’s throat. It was black and sticky. Thick muscle squeezed around him, cracking a rib as he was forced down into the huge monster’s stomach.

Tapito held his breath until a fizzy black tide rose before his eyes. Then he started slashing with the teeth he sharpened every day on steel bars. Shaggy bellowed and howled, but Tapito kept it up until he could smell the clean night breeze. Good. He’d held on long enough for Shaggy to slide out through the prison walls.

Tapito crawled out of the tattered hole in Shaggy’s belly. The big monster moaned weakly.

”I must keep my promises,” said Tapito. “But since you set me free, I will only take one of your balls.” The Swallowing Shadow’s shriek was still echoing off the hills as Tapito sped into freedom.

This is an idea that has been around for a while and decided to surface today.  It was written in about an hour - which may be obvious. 

Out of Mind - 697 Words

Jacob Frimley examined his soft, manicured hands.  “I do hope everything’s clean,” he said.
“Of course,” the woman in the starched white uniform said.  She had a slightly 1940’s look, her hair in a smooth roll, her lipstick bright red.  She also looked tired, and older than she’d sounded on the phone, her eyes sunken, lines cutting down either side of that gleaming mouth.  The label on her lapel said; ‘Letitia Bramling, Supervisor.’
“At these prices…” Frimley said.
“We endeavour to provide complete satisfaction.”
Frimley snorted.  He knew those kind of words, he’d used them himself, they could be a neat way of avoiding responsibility while pretending to take it.
He looked around.  Outside, the ‘Golden Acres Retirement Home’ was a brute concrete box, like so many of them; little more than a storage facility.  Inside, once you got past the outer rooms, it was done out like a classy hotel: fresh flowers, staff with just the right level of obsequy.  Only a few of the residents were visible; pottering gently around or sitting blank-faced in their chairs.  It was a beautiful spring day; he could see a few staff taking the sun in the grounds, but no residents.
Bramling stood with her hands folded, a monument to patience. 
 “Let’s get to it, then,” he said.  As they walked along the corridor he marvelled at the size of the place; it seemed to go on forever.  “Where do you get them all?” 
“An ageing population, Mr Frimley.  They have to go somewhere, and where better than here?  Here, at least, they are still able to be of some value to the working population.  Earn their keep, as it were.”  She was moving too slowly for him, walking like an old woman herself.
Frimley felt the warm build of excitement in the base of his stomach.  Some value, indeed.  Most of them were probably having the time of their lives here; if they were still capable of appreciating it; he wouldn’t mind betting that the circumstances they lived in now were a damn sight more comfortable than their previous miserable little lives.  The place had to be kept nice, of course, for visitors like himself.
“You’re absolutely sure,” Frimley said, “that there can be no complications?  No backlash?”
“So long as you followed our instructions,” Bramling said, “there should be nothing.  And a man such as yourself, with your expert financial experience, should have had no problems making sure the donation was not tracked.”
Was that a dig?  Frimley decided, magnanimously, to ignore it.  Donation, indeed.  That was one word for it.
“And we know you weren’t followed,” she said.  “It’s quite all right, Mr Frimley.  Really.  No-one knows you’re here at all.”
She opened the door.
The room was clean and fresh-scented: the old woman lying in the big bed looked tiny, dried up and fragile as a leaf, ready to blow away on the wind. 
“The agreement was for two hours,” Bramling said.  “If you decide to stay longer, we will require a larger donation, obviously.  The items you requested are in the cupboard on the left.”  She folded her hands again. He hadn’t noticed before but her hands seemed veiny, rootlike, ancient.
“And I can…” he swallowed.
“Mr Frimley, you have paid, I know, a great deal of money.  You can do anything you like.  That’s what we’re here for.  That’s what they’re here for.  Now, is there anything else you require?”
“No,” he said, looking at the figure on the bed.  “No, thank you.”
Bramling smiled, blandly, and closed the door.
Frimley walked towards the bed.

***

Letitia Bramling opened the door, and rolled her eyes.  The place was a state.  Blood everywhere.  “Ethel,” she said.
“Oh, hello, dear.  I’m sorry about the mess.”  Ethel sat up.  She was plump, bright-eyed, juicy as a steak. 
“You’re a disgrace.  Where is it?”
Ethel got out of bed, her bloodsoaked cotton nightgown clinging to her rounded belly, and kicked something towards the supervisor.  It was a dried brown husk, in a suit.
“You look tired, dear.  I’ll get the cleaning crew,” Ethel said.  “And then, I think, it will be your turn for the next one.”

This one comes from a dream fragment.

Three Blue Things (658 words)

It started with a little girl’s balloon. It caught Alice’s eye as she hurried through the park.  The bright sunshine gleamed on the pearly blue rubber, stretched thin against the thunder purple sky. Alice smiled. It was amazing that everyone’s kids demanded total immersion games, but they still liked balloons. Outlined in summer storm-light it was significant, iconic. As she tried to work out what it meant, it burst with a loud bang. She jumped. For a second afterwards her shoulders relaxed, she breathed from the bottom of her lungs, the sunlight warmed her back. Then the little girl started crying, a cold wind whipped the clouds over the sun. Alice shivered, and strode on to the transit station. She had a holiday to earn.

#

Alice and her friend Chloe jogged along the assigned pedway, next to the river. Summer storms were months gone. It was dark at four and the embankment was strung with coloured Christmas lights and glittered with threedee stars. The ads from the sponsors hung in the air, gaudier than the real lights and festooned with virtual tinsel.

Sophie and Chloe weaved around worried-looking people lugging bagfuls of gifts.

“I don’t know how you do it,” puffed Chloe. “I’ve only got one job and I’m clinging on to my sanity by my fingernails. I hope your holiday is worth it.”

“The jobs are boring, but they’re not hard,” said Alice.  “I spend most of the time day-dreaming about the trip. Mentally packing my bags.” She swigged from her water bottle. “It’s weird though. I’ll be thinking about hiking boots and a tent and suddenly find that my brain is throwing in my grandmother’s photos, my dad’s tools and that odd little toy my great aunts knitted for me.”

“Stripy Jim? I thought you loved that toy.”

“I do.”

They collapsed gratefully on the bench that marked the end of their run.

“You’ve never been that far away before, have you?” asked Chloe. “Maybe you’re a bit nervous.”

Alice laughed. “Yes, it’s like I think someone’s going to steal my favourite stuff while I’m gone. I’m not even sure why I want to go. I just know I have to.”

“Hey, everybody needs a bit of adventure. The only holiday I’m going to get is three days over Christmas. And you know what that’ll be like.”

Alice, relaxed and weary, sipped her water and watched the festoons of lights. They hung against the winter sky like a coded message, written in red, yellow, green, white, blue. Behind them the rising trail of a ship slashed across the sky. A pop burst on the cold air as a light winked out. Alice and Chloe jumped. With a firecracker series of pops, every blue light in the string exploded.

“What the hell?” said Chloe.

“Must be something wrong with the blue ones,” said Alice. “Power rating too low or something. Let’s go back. I’ve got wine in the house. Fancy a drink?”

#

Alice settled into her seat on the ship. Her main luggage had been stowed. At the last moment, she’d thrown one photo album and her dad’s knife into her suitcase. She’d also tucked Stripy Jim into her handbag with her ID and entpod. She’d booked a window seat. Six months of three jobs, she made damned sure she was in the right place to get a good view. The noise at takeoff battered at her eadrums, the acceleration shoved her back into her chair. The businessman in the next seat flicked through the inflight ezine on his screen in a bored way, and then took out his comp and started working on a spreadsheet. Alice turned to look out the window. It was all worth it. As the deep blue of the sky zoned into star-studded black, the ship turned towards the gate and Alice got a perfect view of the Earth. A bright blue ball in the dark, pumped up and filled to bursting.