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View Profile MondayDelirium

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Posted by MondayDelirium - March 1st, 2017


The Sun is setting slowly in the distance.

The horizon is a gold line of light, the Sun seemingly hanging in that one spot, as if frozen in time.
Tall grass fills your view, the gentle breeze making it move like waves in the ocean.

The rustling sounds mix with the occasional bird singing somewhere nearby.
Everything looks golden and you can see the moon starting to appear as the sky darkens.

You feel warmth and you close your eyes to take in a deep breath.

You decide to lay down on your back, in the middle of this grassy field.

You open your eyes and see white little clouds slowly moving north. It's like a curtain slowly opening to reveal the greatest stage, that of space and it's endless stars.

You breathe out.

Your lids are heavy.

The wind whispers sweetly into your ears, the breeze is warm and smells of Summer.

You imagine the ground is the sky and you are looking down into the infinite, countless galaxies stretching into forever.

 


Posted by MondayDelirium - December 31st, 2016


You are at a new years party

You feel miserable.

The new year begins with people dancing and signing and you stand aside, empty and feeling worse.

You finally muster the resolve to leave.

You walk the dark streets, mostly empty now we're some hours in and everyone is home or at a party


You go up old stairways, trudging up the streets of a town you have known your whole life.


You find a quite spot, from which you have a great view from most of town.

Now that you are alone that void in you seems to become sated.
you begin to cry in silence, the stars above you and the lights of the town beneath like a great ocean stretching in front of you.

Finally, you feel like yourself again.
You can hear yourself think and you feel joy, you feel peace as you finally become who you really are.

Away from the people who mean nothing to you and their meaningless rituals.
it had been so long you had forgotten, what you like and what you want and how these are not always the same thing.

You are satisfied.


Posted by MondayDelirium - February 10th, 2015



 


It was another cold day in Hell.

This city is eating at me, driving me crazy.

I feel empty, burnt out.

Working as a P.I. has it’s ups and downs. Tonight I have to find an arsonist.

He messed with the wrong people. Burnt down a warehouse that was being used by Big Boy Reno and his gang for staching their drugs.

They want to find the guy but the cops won’t talk. They wanted the nab the drugs and shut Reno’s bussiness down for years now so this fire was a gift from the heavens.

They still want to find the arsonist, seems the crazy fuck tried to burn down an hospital  or two as well.

They got few to no clues though, so one of Reno’s guys walked into my office says they’ll pay me a good sum for the arsonist’s head.

They want to nail him before the cops do, maybe set his balls on fire too.

I had to commit all the facts of the warehouse fire to memory.

Looked into every fire in town for the last five damn years trying to find a pattern. The Hospitals St Mary and St Julian’s where at oposite sides of town.

I only made the conection because the fires were started the same way.

A bomb. The right chemicals, most of them easy to find on an hospital and some parts and pieces anyone could buy cheap from any hardware store.

Maybe the asshole had been paid to do it, maybe he was crazy or maybe he was both but the bombs found were pretty much the same as the one from the warehouse and the fire fighters report said much of the same stuff was found in the burned remains.

There were a lot of names, people who worked at both hospitals, people who been there sick. Too many. Too many people in this town.

These looked like random places. Looked them in the map tried to draw something from it, figure out where thi guy might have set up shop within the range of these places.

With a pen I connect the dots.

A triangle, perfectly symmetrical. Must be one of those cult assholes. Trying to summon Satan or some stupid shit like that.

Maybe just a coincidence. Just out of curiosity I drew some more traces made them connect at the center.

A Police station, right at the middle of the fucking thing. I laughed.

No one would be stupid enough to blow a police station.

Right? 

I get my holster, strap it and check my gun and run out while wearing my coat.

Car’s a piece of shit but it’s all I got. I race through town at the middle of the night.

The first and the second hopsital had been set on fire two years apart. Between the second hospital and the warehouse only a couple of months.

I had been looking through the tons of papers for two days now and my guitt was telling me this fucker will probably be setting a new fire sooner than later, numbers running through my head.

Twos and threes.

Warehouse 23 by pier 2O3.

St Mary’s was 223 and St Julian’s was number 230.

The damn police station at Colonel Salierie Avenue was 523.

Diferent streets, diferent parts or town.

Hate this place. Drives people insane and the insane people drive me crazy.

I’m making it to the police station in record time and manage to run anyone over.

I get to the front of the station and barge in, one fat lazy fuck sitting by the counter.

"Hey!" I shout while showing my P.I. card. "There’s some crazy fuck on the loose and he might be about to blow this place up. Did you see anyone weird around?"

The man looks up at me like I’m crazy, probably because I look and act like a damn lunatic but I can almost smell the smoke.

"No, just you buddy. Now tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you."

"Some ass hole blew up Reno’s warehouse by the pier, you knwo the one I bet was all over the news. Tons of drugs reduced to ashes. Same crazy asshole is going to attack here next." No time to explain the details I had to act fast.

"Is there any maintenance guys around? Whoever did set teh damn place on fire attack two hospitals. The icendiary bombs were in the ventilations only a maintenance guy could have put the damn things there without anyone finding it weird!"

The cop’s eyes stared at me blankly then opened wide.

"There’s one that came in late! Said he was new and asked for boiler room!"

He finally gets up his fat ass and runs and me like an idiot run after, he calls some of his pals and shouts some orders as we run for the boiler room.

It’s all too fast.

His gun his out and mine still in the holster, his friend are looking at me funny and their guns are out too.

We bust in to the boiler room.

They start shouting and I see the guy.

Some regular looking idiot ina dirty maintenance uniform.

Guy is holding a package and something tells me this ain’t a damn Christmas gift.

Bastard smiles at the cops and says he’ll blow us all up with him unless we let him go.

Fat guy shoots him the shoulder not thinking twice.

The man rolls on the floor, falls flat on his back but never lets the package hit the ground. In seconds he is surrounded by the cops. they take the package from him and proceed to beat him up.

I see the fat cop and one of his friends open the thing up and sure as hell there’s the dirty damn bomb. The last two days made me no expert but I could see the componenets on the outside. Same ones found charred or melted at the previous fires. Good thing I have one hell of a memory.

The thing has a clock and the thing is ticking, before anyone else can react I pull the green string  and theclock stops.

The two cops stare at me and I can see they are about to go for my throat.

"Big Boy paid me to find this fucker. I read the reports the about this fucker, one of his fire bombs never went off at one of the Hospitals he blew up and the guy from the bomb squad described how he desarmed it."

"How the fuck did you get acces to all of that though?" one of them asked.

"I know a guy" was my answer and I handed him the wire and walked out.

Big Boy’s boy visited me the next day and pretended to be angry.

Told him it was not my fault the arsonist tried to blow up a cop station. I had found the guy and so I met half the contract.

The guy looked at me like he was gonna shoot me.

He paid me half what they had promissed, said Big Boy’s boys in teh bidrhouse would handle the rest.

A mobster pay a private eye to find an arsonist and by this saves a bunch of cops and probably avoids a bloody riot and a damn war on the streets.

Never even learned why the guy did it. Blowing up shit, setting stuff on fire just for the kicks.

This city is crazy.


Posted by MondayDelirium - January 2nd, 2014


 

It was a cold night, the snow flakes falling in silence, white and pure. I waited under the light of the street lamp my fedora tipped forward to hide my face and shield my eyes from that light while smoking my cigarette. He had to see me. I wanted him to worry. The jolly fat man passed by when I was half way through my second cigarette, so drunk he couldn't walk straight. He disgusted me more than I could ever think it to be possible, singing some stupid Christmas carol mumbling it more like all the while stopping to burp and take a sip from a wine bottle. Fat, drunk assholes finding a job as a mall Santa for Christmas wasn't a crime on itself. This one however... This was how he got the kids to trust him. Walking into their parents house, sending the kids to bed and robbing everything not nailed to the ground. The last kid he tricked was dead. Guess this one didn't go to bed, instead wondering why was Santa stealing mommy's expensive shoes and jewels. Bastard. I started walking behind him as he kept singing and wobbling to whatever hole he called home. I wanted to shoot him and be done with it but not somewhere public. Snow was starting to pile up, up to my damn knees. I guess he finally heard me following him around because out of the blue and turned to look at me with his fake beard covered in stains and his eyes so red and swollen he probably couldn't see me like more than a blur. "Hey, can you tell me where I live little boy?" he slurred at me. Brilliant. "The North Pole. You're Santa." The fat piece shit froze in place, his brain trying to work through the haze of alcohol. "Oh, ohh that's funny kid." He waddled towards me like a duck. "Wh're you live? Your mommy and daddy got dough?" I spited my cig to the ground. "Sure do. They're bakers." The old man stopped in his tracks again. "You tryin to be fun-" The butt of my colt hit him so hard on the chin he didn't even grunt and just toppled over. He really was fat. Had to work quickly, since I had been stupid enough to hit him out in the open even if it was Christmas Eve and the streets looked empty enough. Good thing the docks were close. Dragged his ass for a good half hour through the snow. The kid's parents said they wanted him gone, never said to kill him just gone like I was some kind of magician or could find something the police didn't. I found the same things. Cops knew he did it. They just didn't give a fuck. No. Some of them did. They just couldn't make the judge say the right words, the one that could put the bastard behind bars. Inconclusive, not enough, reasonable doubt, some other scumbags making up an alibi probably in on the dirt and making some scratch of it too. The docks were empty and the bells of the nearest church three blocks away rang like doomsday was coming. The fat idiot woke up as I was about to drop him on the cold, black water. I punched him hard just because I felt like it. Then I shot him, with the racket the bells made not even I could hear the bang right. Santa Claus drooped into the water with nasty old splash and sank like a rock. Started smoking another cig, watched out to see him fight for breath or something but he never came up again. Drowned and gone. Maybe someone would find him by new years eve. I turned my back and walked away. Time to spend another Christmas alone.


Posted by MondayDelirium - November 5th, 2013


A woman dressed as a nun is walking along a beaten path when a black haired, filthy looking albino man dressing in black driving a carriage with some corpses laying on the back.
He stops the horses, two black mares and asks the woman if she wants a ride.
This man despite assuring to be a gravedigger taking some newly dead to the graveyard nearby the closest monastery did not inspire trust.
He had been however the only living soul she had seen that whole day though if he was alive or not might have been one other story all of it's own, so she accept the ride rather than risking a cold by traveling all night on foot, alone and in complete darkness as the sun was quickly setting.

So they rode together on that beaten dirt road, the man smelling quite as bad or worse than the corpses.
His long hair hid most of his face his nose being the most visible part of his face a long with his mouth which bore some suspicious looking sharp and cruel teeth followed by a chin that displayed a beard as black and half as long as his hair.

"Say" he said to the woman "you look like a nun! Want to hear a funny nun story?"
"No" the woman replied, somewhat rudely.
"Fine, here it goes then" the man said quite jolly.
"There was once a pretty young nun. She was pretty happy with her little life. Until she was sent to a different monastery where people spoke of the mother superior in fear as if she was some kind of monster."
The man paused for a laugh and then went on.
"None of the other nuns in the monastery spoke to the new girl after she arrived. None but the Mother Superior who made a point of saying there was one golden rule. No one leaves the cells at night. To make sure of it the Mother Superior locked everyone in and said to have the only key.
The day went on without problem. It was the next morning that all went sour. During the night one of the nuns had gone missing. She could not have escaped without help! or so the old head nun would shout in a fury!
How she did it? No one knew. The cells lived to their names being tiny and impossible to escape except by the door, which was solid oak and well shut closed locked by Mother Superior's only key.
The day went by and night arrived and all was quiet.
Then morning arrived."
The woman dressed as a nun interrupted by saying:
"Let me guess, another one was gone."
Laughing the gravedigger shook his head and said:
"No, in fact another two had vanished.
"The Mother Superior became so furious her face turned red and the little sisters swore she would die of rage and that following night she crossed the monastery walls back and forth like an angry bull!
Then morning came again and now another three girls were missing!
The remaining nuns panicked and said the devil was roaming the house of the lord and they would all vanish into the bowels of hell."
The woman dressed as a nun became very uncomfortable and did not at all found this funny.
"After two more nights with increasing numbers of missing nuns and the little nuns going around praying for the devil not to take them and the new nun in the monastery was terrified the most, scared she might be next.
The story went on like so.
Until the young nun and the old hag were the only women left in the old monastery.
Fearing for her life that day the little nun took a knife from the kitchen and hid it in her room not fearing this to be found for the Mother Superior seemed to have resigned to their fate, pallid and silent like a wall painted white doing her usual things like nothing was wrong.
Night came again and the young nun did not sleep. She waited holding a knife in one hand and a crucifix in the other.
Then as the night was at it's darkest she heard her cell's door being unlocked.
She hold herself very still under her sheets, knife ready. Slowly the door opened, silent and the shadowy figure crawled nearer silent as a mouse and the young girl with her eyes ever only so slightly open saw through a slit that the figure rose one arm well high!"
The woman's attention was now held quite firmly by the tale and she waited in absolute silence for what was to come next.
"The young nun acted quickly! She stabbed the apparition with her knife, screaming like a banshee and blind with fear even with her eyes wide open she stabbed and stabbed! Until the figure laid still.
Lighting a candle her breath ragged and painful she lit upon the fresh corpse.
It was of course... The Mother Superior herself. She had the only key, she was known to be a beast and there being no people anywhere near the monastery who could be hiding or helping the nuns escape -or coming at night to kill them, for that matter- it all led the little poor nun to think it was the old woman doing all the killing.
That and the fact the old woman had a cudgel in one of her cold dead hands."
The man smiled unpleasantly and did not speak, luring the woman dressed as a nun to ask the question that might be on your mind as well, dear reader.
"What did she do with the other nuns?"
The scary gravedigger laughed.
"That's the joke. She did nothing to them."
The woman raised her left eyebrows in disbelief.
"That's stupid" she pointed out.
"It's life" he remarked "you see... The Mother Superior was an horrible old bitch. The other nuns after years of being terrified of her and hating her! all of them, old and young alike decided to escape the monastery and never come back.
They decided to copy the Mother Superior's key without her knowing and so they planned to escape by opening their own cells from the inside. There was however only one copy of the key, ordered in secret from a blacksmith which one of them nuns had helped long ago by healing him of a terrible wound. They had no money and only managed to reach the black smith because once and only once every two months were they allowed to go to town which was quite far and full of sinners...
That last visit was the day the new nun arrived and so she was unaware of the others plan.
The others not trusting the new girl and fearing she might have told it all to the old bitch, kept the plan secret from her and so all the nuns escaped by using the key to flee their cells but always making certain that the cell was locked again once they were out of it and then hid the key on a secret place which they had arranged so the next morning a different nun could take it. Thus the process was repeated until only two were left."
The woman was still not convinced.
"Why didn't they all left?" she asked "all of them on the same night?"
The grave digger seemed happy either because his morbid story had got her attention or perhaps simply because he was a lonely and smelly man eager for someone that would hear him talk and then reply, something beyond the ability of the corpses which kept him company.
"Imagine what it would be like to have dozens of scared, angry nuns running in the dark of the night! They would be caught for sure! They were paranoid and did not want to be caught! One escaped first alone. Then two because a distraction might have been necessary for them to escape once the old nun became suspicious. Thus the ones that were left behind began acting scared saying it was the devil to ward of the Mother Superior's suspicions as much as they could.
Eventually since they were so lucky as to escape without trouble and kept disappearing in bigger numbers the old woman herself began believing it was the devil's work."
The woman pondered upon this and wondered if this had been a terrible or a brilliant plan.
Perhaps it had been both.
"This story doesn't seem funny at all to me" she declared "and I find it awful because of the unnecessary death and the fact it carries no moral whatsoever."
The gravedigger cackled.
"Here his the graveyard, you must walk onwards from here on your own."
The corpse cart halted and the woman jumped off. There were was a great gate of iron and the gravestones behind it were many and enshrouded by mist as the stars shone meekly upon them.
"You want a moral? This story has two" the gravedigger said "the first being not to judge thing by what they seem."
He pointed towards some hills.
"Nearest to us and to the left of this hills you will find a monastery where a kind old monk lives on his own. Ask him for food and bed and you shall have it."
The grave digger climbed down from the cart and opened the graveyard's gate and guided his mares across, walking by their side and then closing the iron gates behind him.
"Wait!" the woman shouted from outside "what is the other moral of the story?" she asked.
The man stopped, the gates shut closed he pushed his face the bars and took a deep breath before replying.
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked her with a serious voice.
"Never trust a fucking nun!"
He tossed his head back, laughing like a maniac and happily frolicked deeper into the graveyard with his mares pushing the cart along.

The night was cold and the woman dressed as a nun turned her back and walked towards the monastery.
She smiled as she walked that road again on her lonesome.
What a strange man, she thought.
For she was in fact not a nun, not at all what she seemed to be.
Perhaps the gravedigger knew. Perhaps, due to the nature of his story he even knew of her crime.
For she was a woman that had killed.
She had killed her husband which in turn had tried to kill her and so now she traveled disguised as a nun to ward of suspicion and within her robes she had hidden a kitchen knife meant to be used in her own defense.
Yes, indeed.

Not all things were what they seemed.
And you should never trust a nun.

THE END


Posted by MondayDelirium - February 5th, 2012


Short story

"Sweet valentine"

"How odd.
It's usually sunny this time of the year.
Cold but sunny.
I guess it some of those polar winds...
I don't know, Marianne, meteorology was always more of John's thing than mine.
Oh, my brother is fine, don't worry.
He was scared after the accident. He thought I would be angry at him, blame him for the car crash.
It wasn't his fault, it was dark and the road was slippery from all the snow.
If it had you been driving, thing might be different but... That's in the past."
Timothy paused for a moment, cleaned his glasses with his scarf.
"Guess there's no point in lying.
John and me had a fight, thus this awful black eye.
Don't worry, it's out of my system now, all of it.
All the crazy... It has to. Our girl needs me to keep a cool head."
He shivered from the cold, the snow silently falling around, burying everything under a cold mantle of pure white.
"I should have brought a flower. It's valentine's after all.
I'm sorry. I promise I'll bring one next time."
Timothy crouched, leaning over until his forehead touched the cold surface of the tombstone.
"Happy Valentines."
That was all he had the courage to whisper before getting up and walking away, almost as if running or at least turning his back to the grave would make his wife's death go away.
He didn't look back.

THE END
(so far)