chaosorc

I think we should be friends

Saed read it aloud

Then he looked at the person he was talking to

New guy

Barton, he said

Barton, she thinks we should be friends

You can always use friends

No, fuck that

Perhaps she found you displeasing

You'll find the back of my hand displeasing

Barton laughed and was interrupted by a chime in his headset

Welcome to Wiccan Chicken where we manifest the flavor, are you ready to order?

Saed returned to the fryer and shifted the contents around with the stainless steel scoop.

•

They waited until their manager locked the door and then walked to where their cars were parked.

At least she remembers you

Oh no you got the ghost

Yeah, pretty little thing named Lennon

Fuck, I'm sorry to hear that, Barton

Yeah, that's why I had to get a job here, got kicked out

Where you living

Parents

Damn well, good luck with that

You too, Saed

He got in his car, backed out and drove away.

Saed stood next to his car with the door open, took off his apron and threw it inside, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped it on the back of his hand.

---

Photos of collapsed areas, drains and irrigation. The edge of the sidewalk worn away and not fixed for years, then a photo of the inside where a pumpkin vine has sprouted.

The assistant says, this is exactly what they want

Pumpkin vine conspiracy.

The photo was gray like concrete worn to sand, it formed a funnel then the underneath was a black grate like a playground picnic table with a black and deep green vine coming out of a smashed plastic drain pipe.

He stood in the boiler room, like a hallway in a baseball stadium, he examined vintage pipes that ran the length of one wall, curved sharply and went into the polished concrete floor.

Wait, we don't let anyone inspect

He looked at the hand on his shoulder, followed the arm to the security guard looking at him, we have our own people.

It's not frequent enough, you just replace it after it goes bad. You're cheap and have no respect for plumbing history.

The man let his hand drop and looked confused.

The boiler room colors were a sea green from the wall down to the floor and there was a baby blue stripe separating it with the white wall and ceiling. The pipes had been painted and were rough and old, paint over rust.

The man who worked there and let him in wore black, a woolen coat and slacks, a cap, dress shoes, white button down shirt, conspicuously lacking a tie but they were working men.

---

Date number six

He sat down, excited. He spread the napkin on his lap and picked up the wine menu.

She saw her friend enter the bar and sit at another table, a man with long dark hair and a beard was with her.

She received a text and looked at her phone, it was from her friend at the other table, who's the sugar daddy?

She read it aloud to her date and he lowered the wine menu, he looked uncomfortable.

•

He dropped her at home and she stood inside the front door and texted, thank you for the great time, my friend called you sugar daddy because you look older.

He replied, my friend asked, who's the escort LOL

She immediately blocked him.

---

Where did your monogamy fetish begin? 1983. Genesis, That's All.

Truth is I love you more that I wanted to. There's no point in trying to pretend. There's been no-one who makes me feel like you do. Say we'll be together 'til the end.

Why is that relevant? It was on the radio all the time the first time my mother was institutionalized. I would hear it on the radio when my father drove us out to visit her and on the way back home without her.

---

Whatever you do do not put a fucking QR code on my headstone I will find you and destroy you from beyond the grave. Surest way to create a revenant or poltergeist right there. Fuck off you absolute termite.

She lay in bed crying and trying to fall asleep. Faded beach tan, her honey blond hair spread out on the pillows.

A song bopped along with a man singing as a snare drum and bass popped in a conversation, a tale of a man in a five yearlong marriage, the weight of the ring and the sunk cost, and how she should never be sad about it because it will keep him around.

She sobbed and writhed, uncomfortable and unable to explain it.

She gripped her phone, the last message she sent, desolate.

•

In the morning she stood in the kitchen and waited for the toast to pop up. She sipped her tea and looked at her book bag wondering what she forgot. She realized it was the pen, fetched it from her room and on the way back the toast popped up.

She looked at her phone, no notifications.

She unlocked it and opened the photo social media app, a new photo appeared in the timeline. She turned her head and picked up the butter knife, held it in a tight grip and stabbed at the butter.

Maeghan and David at the beach, arm in arm with a towel shared between them, pushed out and flapping in the wind.

She sat on the couch eating the buttered toast, drinking her tea in silence. Just the crunch of the food. Then, picked up her bag and left.

•

A weather warning appeared on her phone as she was walking home from class. The sky was going dark and the wind picking up. It had come out of nowhere, people in school talking about it.

She reached the end of the street and it was thick with water, she would have to go around it. She followed the fence next to the cemetery and part of the fence had fallen away.

She stared into the opening where two trees came together over a dark stretch, low tombstones lined up and angling away into the depths. She turned around and a gust of wind hit her, knocking her off balance, she fell backwards over the stonework wall and into the grass. When she sat up her honey blond hair was drenched, earthworms and grass roots clinging. Dark clouds swirled and she could barely see the street, she rolled over and pushed herself to her feet, mud and sod clinging to her knees and palms, running down to her elbows.

Sheets of rain hit her back and she could see cobwebs stretched in the dark opening, beads of liquid clinging. She turned around and a man stood there in a plain black suit, black tie, his hair disheveled and wet, dripping. His skin was white and his hands gripped her arms, he stared into her eyes.

Touch me, she whispered.

He lifted her in his arms, feet kicking droplets off the nearby tree as he carried her into the darkness.

•

They went past wide plots separated by concrete risers with tall columns, some with angels cast in light color stone. Others as dark obelisks, some crumbling and some new and reflecting the fading light.

They reached a single crypt mausoleum with black bars at the entrance. The roof of the mausoleum shrouded in yellow flame, crackling, with dark rainwater pouring from its stooped eaves, smoke flowing up from the building.

Inside thunder clapped and lightning flashed, lighting up the halls of the mausoleum. He carried her through the green and purple lit stone corridors and stopped in the central crypt. Above it, the word “Nomed” was spelled out on an iron arch set between the two purple windows that framed the raised stone coffin in the center of the room.

Inside the coffin the shadow made a slow salute to Chelsea and she smiled, her eyes glowing yellow. She approached the crypt hand in hand with the man in the suit. Seven rats appeared to witness the spectacle. He traced the stonework with his hand, cutting his finger. She looked at the drop of blood on his finger tip. The crypt slid open and green smoke billowed out, a clawed hand poked out to greet her.

Maeghan sat with her arm folded on an open book in the library. Wood, green plastic, bronze lamp, someone pecking away at a computer keyboard somewhere. Rows of books, stinking away.

What's wrong

She was staring off with her glasses sideways, leaning on the palm of her hand, mouth turned back with teeth exposed looking disgusted by whatever was beyond the wall of the basement library.

She straightened her glasses and turned to look at him. He was standing next to her, canvas buckle pants, baggy t-shirt, tousled looking hair full of some lotion smelling product.

Eh

He looked at her exposed shoulders and cleavage now that she was facing him, he pulled his lower lip in and his mouth squirmed.

Ew

He turned and she said, wait.

She stood up and gathered her books and her bag, they walked outside together.

What do you want

You just looked

She looked at him expecting an explanation.

You looked sick or something I don't know

I am sick

Great

No

What's your problem

The guys

He put his hand to his chest like, who me

The guys, she nodded

Well we are shit

Don't be like that

Like what

You could change it

How

Effort

He touched his hair and held out his palm to show her something like she had missed it.

Allow me to demonstrate

He leaned against the wall and crossed a leg, stuffed his hands in his pocket and stared straight at her.

You approach me, what's wrong. And what, I leave the library and you follow. Now what's your plan, you say, you looked sick or something. What do I look like?

His shoulders were hunching, he had stopped leaning and was now curling over like he was taking a beating.

What do I look like? I don't even know your name, kid.

David.

Meghan.

Pretty.

Thanks. So answer the question.

I did.

He looked at her with sincerity and it broke her.

Are you okay?

No

She covered her face and clutched her bookbag in front of her.

Fuck, is it something I did, he tried to look at her, dodging slightly from side to side.

Yes. But it's not your fault.

Are you alright can I get you something

Your number

---

I know it is not going to work

Why don't you tell her

I want to feel it while it lasts

But it is about to end

Still feels good while it is here

Are you making it worse, what if you could have met someone else, or she could, aren't you wasting both your time

Endless string of questions stretching into a future that might be inevitable but is not a reason to escape the present joy, pleasure, the benefits of the moment

The plastic and heat will collect in all things, they will spin at the bottom of the ocean until they exhaust themselves then lay down and die.

Take the car batteries to the beach and set them free. Return to nature my leaden acidic children, go forth and multiply. Robe and rod adornments, long hair and beard turned north by the wind. Shibumi shade and Yeti cooler on the beach.

•

She is always there sitting with me at the lake crying and talking about suicide laying in bed naked next to me saying, if you have any fetishes now is the time to speak up, saying, you might be onto something, to conclude our argument and kill our relationship, etcetera.

The doctor looked up, so you're haunted

A voice behind him, yes

He looked over his shoulder and a man in a long white robe with bloody tracks like he wiped his hands on his chest, he looked up at his wild beard, short and pointing every direction, brown and gray, his eyes covered with two X shapes, black electrical tape.

He looked back at his doctor, his face appealing, tears in his eyes, face torn with fear.

A wave of heat hit him, the sun scorching his scabbed and bubbling skin, sticking to the rocks and grass on the ground, ants squirming in the heat, dark water shimmer mirage on the horizon, his eyes and mouth dry, lips cracking from the heat. His last words a dry rasp, death valley.

---

Did he say, you don't have to do this? That's my favorite. Because you do.

It stood with one white eye revealed by the pillowcase, the other had rotted and become a dark hole sticky, the cloth stuck to it like a black scab. Its arms were now crisscrossed with wounds from victims who tried to scratch, bite, and cut their way out of its grasp. Its nails were dark with blood and a man gently scrubbed with a sponge and exfoliating soap as he talked to it.

Once we get you cleaned up I will let you rest, okay?

It took a breath and let out a slow hiss from its throat. Pink lacerations and pock marks, small blobs of someone else's blood.

•

Thomas scanned the area and saw a woman with a red and white mask, almost like a yin-yang symbol. Her body was exposed and open, she stood by a curtain at the end of the hall near the restroom. She beckoned him with an outstretched hand, a grand theatrical gesture like a vampire.

Jeff woke up and gasped, he had inhaled puke or something gross and it was struggling to come back up, he gripped the pillow in one hand and an uncomfortable wave crossed him, his body jerked, his other hand was on someone's shoulder. He looked over and the grease sweaty back faced him, pale and pocked with pimples, long unwashed and unbrushed hair.

Logan

No

Come on Logan, wake up

What do you want Jeff

Get out of my bed

This ain't your bed

He looked around and realized he was in Logan's bedroom and it was nasty. He looked at the back of his other hand and there was something on it, must have smeared from the nightstand which was shrouded in darkness and covered with trash.

What the fuck happened

Rideshare

I know that but before that

You don't remember, we fucked, there was a pause.

Meghan

Her, yeah

Logan was talking to the wall.

Did she hit you or something why are you doing that

Get the fuck out, Jeff

Jesus

He stood up and looked around, surprised he was fully dressed. He looked at his shoe prints on the sheets at the foot of the bed.

You gotta do laundry

You gotta fuck off

Jeff stepped out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut, struggling against crinkling empty bags of chips or whatever.

Paul was kneeling in front of the couch with the white cube steamer.

Good morning

Paul kept working. Half the apartment looked like it had been cleaned, the other half was spattered with random food, red and yellow, possibly vomit.

He looked at the empty bottles all over the kitchen island, counter full with the contents of the open cupboards above.

Goodbye, Paul

He went to the front door and flipped the bird over his shoulder before pulling the door shut.

•

When he was finished cleaning Paul went into his room and shut the door then stood staring at the ballpoint pen portrait he had taped to the back of his bedroom door.

•

Logan sat upright and then bent over and pulled the bottle out from under his bed. He unscrewed and threw the cap at the television, took a tug on the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.

Once his head was swimming he picked up the phone from the dresser.

•

He was running through the street, his hair wild and tangled, beard dripping with sweat in the hot spring air. The hallway was dark, egg shell and cigarette smoke, he had to use the plastic key on his keyring to get in. A man stood at the door smoking, no shirt, cutoff blue jeans, suspiciously clean converse shoes.

The dark corridor stretched ahead of him, paisley carpet red. He looked at the phone and tapped the power button, it didn't turn on.

He paused and examined the door and it was open. He turned around and there was a dark shape blocking his way back out to the smoker, to the street, cars rushing by. He stared at it for a moment in disbelief. Yellow eyes glaring, arms out at the sides, hands curved in claw position. She rushed forward and Jeff screamed.

He sat at the table with the beach towels, hat on backwards, pale legs with long black hairs, ugly toenails in need of a trim, gross callouses, feet too red. His sunglasses on the bill of the cap facing backwards, she sometimes thought it was him looking at her but he was facing out the window, watching the car. Probably worried about the cooler full of ice and drinks in the back of his convertible.

He finished his icy green tea concoction and left the frisbee on the table where he had been sitting to save his spot.

Pardon, milady

Stop it, Dash.

She smiled and looked straight at him, his face slathered with suntan lotion, nose white.

Please ma'am, may I have another

He held his empty cup and shook the milky ice.

You may, she took it from him

He leaned backwards on the counter, his sunglasses hat watched her make the drink.

When she returned she set it on the counter and it hissed, he turned around, why thank you, and he performed a wide flourish, long lanky arms, tan and greasy with sunblock, the smell of it hit her.

I made it special for you

Did you, his eyes widened

I spit in it

Based.

He scooped it up and gulped, staring at her with one eye, then licked his lips before wiping it on the back of his arm.

Delicious

She squinted, grinning and pleased, I knew it

•

They got to the beach and it was night.

We're not supposed to park here at night, the beach has hours

Apartments

What if they check

It's after eight everyone is asleep

Why did you let me sleep

Why did you let me smoke

What

Yeah, only the lucky left

For me

He smiled at her and they hopped the speedbump.

The air was cool, his hair had been pulled out from under the hat on the drive, she snatched it from his head when they stopped and stuck it under the seat.

He got out and picked up the cooler, slung its strap over his neck and waited for her to exit the vehicle, arms full of towels and a bag and her purse.

That was a long fucking shift

He pressed the button on his keys and the car chirped.

They walked together to the beach and went a ways further, the water was warm on their ankles.

He set down the cooler and panted, she rolled out the towel in the moonlight. They sat together and he popped open a couple of beers, handing one across to her.

She cupped her hand and lit the cigarette and they passed it back and forth silently, the beach wind carrying their hair, towels and clothing fluttering.

•

Cinda

Dash

Why do you think they do it

Because someone else did it to them

He kissed her shoulder.

She handed him the cigarette and when he took a drag she kissed his shoulder.

Can we not

He handed it back and she paused, looked from the cigarette to his face to make sure he was being serious for once.

There were tears in his eyes.

Let's not

Angela pushed the shopping cart past the cold and flu aisle, the masks and charms to ward off the ghost virus. No one else was there because everyone was afraid to come into contact with someone who needed the supplies, they didn't want to get sick and forget anymore. She moved ponderously along the back wall staring at the dairy and lunch meats but she was lost in thought, wondering about what her daughter had been up to. She reached the area where the wine tasting took place but she was moving along the back wall next to the fish they murdered while customers watched and jacked off or whatever those freaks do.

What?

She looked at him, he was young, wore a hat that said Vortex and the bill was curved but pushed up, she could see his hairline and it was impressive, young man with a widow's peak. She stepped back because he was standing way too close.

I said, what do you think the freaks do when they pay to have these aquatic morsels killed while they watch?

She looked at the tank and there were a couple of sad looking lobsters.

Did you say jack off?

He smirked, she looked at his shirt and it was a female comic book character but with the outfit painted black, her eyes were white orbs, dark mascara running, black lips turned up in a smirk, catlike, and a word or couple of words splashed across the top but it was in that writing that looks like sun damage on leather seats.

Yes, I did. I'm Forest.

Angela.

He stood up straight she was surprised he was taller than her. She looked at his feet and he was wearing black tennis shoes with white stripes down the side, scuffed on one side from skateboarding.

Now that you've met me you have to tell me

What?

He pointed behind her and she followed his line of sight back to the aquarium then laughed.

She looked back at him and he was smiling, his eyes relaxed, looking right back at her.

I think they're hungry

Hungry for murder

She smirked but he was staring through her at the tank and he didn't look happy.

What, you want to buy them and set them free?

No, I want to understand the freaks who brought them here.

Fair. Well, I'm going to go now, it was nice meeting you

Wait, it sounded urgent, a little too loud for the supermarket.

What

She had both hands on the shopping cart ready to make a run for it.

Socials, he pulled a hand out of his pocket and handed his phone to her.

She took it and looked at the screen, confused.

Socials?

Uh, sure, which one though

He rattled off the names of some social networking applications.

Oh, I have that one

He stepped close to her, she was surprised how much taller he was when he stood up straight. He poked at the phone with his fingertip, she searched and opened it, then searched for her account and requested to be added.

There you go, she handed it back

Is this man bothering you?

She looked up and Lionel was standing there

No, she glared at him

Fuck off, dad.

She laughed and smiled at Forest but they looked annoyed. She immediately recognized the resemblance.

•

She sat down in the car and pulled out her phone, a message waiting in her notifications, it was nice meeting you, Angela. And a pair of lobster emoji.

He parked his rusty truck at the bar and was surprised it was open, only two other cars in the lot. He pushed the visor up so he could scan the other side of the river, shielding his eyes with his hand. He raked his fingers through his facial hair and pulled it away from his mouth, licking his lips and looking at the front door.

He pushed open the creaking door to his truck and climbed out, stretching his legs one at a time as he placed his booted feet on the dusty asphalt.

Michael and Jessica were at the bar, she was the bartender and he the regular patron. They didn't even glance his way when he entered. He scanned the bar and there was no one else in there. Red bench seats, complicated looking collages made of torn newspaper sealed beneath glass tabletops, red and gold lamps dangling above each one. Pool tables in the corner by the jukebox that wasn't plugged in yet. A bluetooth speaker behind the bar played music from her cellular phone.

He approached the bar and she eventually glanced over, what'll it be?

The music wasn't loud enough to prevent them from speaking five or six feet away.

Pee bee arr.

She went to the refrigerator at the side and produced the bottle, she retrieved the bottle opener and popped the top off in front of him, it landed on the bar and she put a hand on it.

Start a tab?

Just the one

He slid his credit card over and she rang it up.

He tipped his beer and then looked at Michael who nodded in his yellow cap.

Want me to plug it in

He shook his head and tipped the bottle again, can't stay long

Got it

She went back to talking to Michael, the two close together, voices low.

He looked at himself in the mirror across the bar, it had gold glitter painted in, framing the name of a brand of beer. He stared into his own eyes and ran his hands through his facial hair again.

He stepped outside and let the door close behind him and watched the traffic disappear, then quickly turned the corner and went straight back from the bar and into the high blue-leaf grass. He found the chain at the edge of the river and pulled it and eventually a backpack appeared and a black and green pair of galoshes. He untied and put them on and pushed his way deeper into the grass and beneath the shade of the fir and oak trees that crowded the waterline.

He picked up a piece of sharpened and curved rebar that waited beneath the sunfaded blue tarp, took a deep breath and used it to pry open the rusted black barrel.

Her hair drifted when his leg hit the barrel, the blond had faded and now it was a sick brown. She glared up at him, fogged eyes shriveled in the sockets. Face as pale as the day he lost her.

He dropped the bar and slapped his hands over his eyes, his entire body shook as he sobbed.