Tag Archives: fan fiction

51WEEKS/51 SONGS FROM the PAST

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51 WEEKS/51 SONGS FROM the PAST 51-weeks-51-songs-from-the-past

51 Weeks: 51 Songs From The Past: Week 7: Mama Cass – Make Your Own Kind Of Music

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Thanks, Hugh, for creating this fun challenge. ūüôā

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This song, “Carry On My Wayward Son”, was written by Kerry Livgren, and released in 1976, on the album, “Leftoverture”.

I love this song. I really don’t have any certain memories attached to it, I just feel a lot of emotion when I hear it. For some reason it seems to go along with my fan fiction story, “Two Souls: Into the Fire”.

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Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{

© 2017 BS

 

 

TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 36

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 36

Warning…adult content

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE

36th installment

warning…adult content

                                       

Ghost made his way through the woods to Missing Mile’s graveyard. It was several miles by the main road, but seemed to be a shorter distance going this back way. He didn’t know why he blew up at Steve, back at the house. It was just this whole business of coming back was complicated.

“Why can’t anything be easy?” he thought.

Then an unbidden voice came into his mind. “Death is easy,” it whispered.

And he knew it to be true…now. He pushed the morbid thought from his mind, as he reached the back of the graveyard. His grandmother’s grave was right near, in a secluded, tree shaded area. He stood¬†for a moment, just trying to focus his thoughts. A sudden soft breeze filtered through the pine trees, making a whispering sound. He knew his grandmother was near, and waiting for him to tell her all his troubles, just like she used to do when he was a kid.

Sitting cross-legged on top of her grave, he traced his fingers over the headstone that told her name, and the days of her life, etched there, softly timeworn after so many years. But, Ghost knew she’d never really left him alone. Her spirit would always be with him, would always be his guardian angel, his spirit guide. He spoke to her as if she was there, right in front of him. He remembered the last time he’d been here. His soul in pain, his body torn and bleeding.

“I had to come back,” he started. “You knew it before I did, and now felt like the time was right…but, is it…is it? I’m so confused. Everything seems so hard. I messed up so bad. I saw you…I knew you were there when I crossed over for a little while. You told me to come back, to make things right, it wasn’t time for me over there. But, I wanted to stay,” he sobbed, “I wanted to stay.”

Wiping his eyes, he began again. “I met someone else, and I thought he could make me forget about Steve. But, he was too greedy. He took everything he could from me, and then hurt me in the end. Now I’m back here, and I’ve forgiven Steve, and I love him…but, I’m still afraid, so afraid,” he knelt against the gravestone, letting his tears run down the cold granite and into the soft earth below.

“Ghost Child,” he heard her voice, a soft whisper in his mind. “You are right where you are supposed to be. I’ve seen all your pain. I’ve felt your turmoil. I can see you are troubled, but I know you must go through tough times, go through the fire, to test your love for Steve, to continue to evolve into the true soul spirit you were born to be. I can only guide you so far, Ghost Child. the rest is up to you. You and only you can decide which path you follow.¬†

I will never forsake you. You will always be here in my heart. Come and talk to me often. I will try to ease some of the confusion and pain you feel. Try not to be afraid of life, Ghost Child…embrace it, learn from the hard parts, and live joyously in the good parts. Your ability to empathize with all creation is only to help you. You can’t take on everyone’s pain and sorrow. It would ultimately destroy you.

You must go to your love, enjoy this lifetime with him, as you have in the past, and which you will in the future. Do not despair, do not let your depression take over and cloud your emotions. Give everything of yourself to this life, and do not regret anything.”

Ghost had fallen into an exhausted sleep. He heard his grandmother’s voice while awake, and continued to heed her advice, as he drifed off. He had no idea how long he’d been out there in the graveyard, but as he came slowly awake, it was getting on toward twilight. A few stars were beginning to shine in the indigo sky.

~

He was tired, so tired still…of trying so hard, of not knowing what to do, of being afraid. He sighed. He did feel the beginnings of a new outlook on things. Maybe he could figure it out. He pulled on his old Army jacket, and as he did, he noticed his left wrist… and the tattoo he’d gotten there. He smiled to himself, as he remembered the day¬†it had happened. It was up in the mountains. There was a guy who practiced the art of tattooing there, one of his kinfolk, he supposed. Being curious, he watched the man at his craft several times, then decided he wanted one. He’d always been scared to before, but he’d seen Steve’s silly one, and figured he’d get one to match. So, he gathered his courage and had the guy write the word ‘Steve’ on the inside of his left wrist in sky blue ink. It hurt like hell, but he managed to get through it. He looked at it now, and kissed it, as he said,

“Help me get through the rest of my life, Steve. I don’t think I can do it without you by my side.”

~

He knew he needed to go back to his house and see Steve. He hoped Steve had finished cleaning. Shaking the pine needles from his hair and clothes, he began the walk back. He tried to think of what to say to¬†Steve, when he returned home. He didn’t know what mood Steve would be in, but figured he would take his cue and hope for the best.¬†

As he walked up behind the house, he noticed the porch light on out front, and could hear Steve playing a few chords on his guitar. Coming closer, he saw Steve there, sitting on the old swing and looking calm.

Hesitating a bit, Ghost walked over and sat in the swing, next to Steve.

“Hey,”¬†Ghost said, softly.

Steve looked over, “Hey.”

Steve continued to strum his guitar, and as he did, he asked Ghost, “You ok?”

“Uh-huh,”

There were no more words needed. Ghost began humming along to the song, an old ballad he’d written long ago, and they just enjoyed being there together in the quiet, country night.

After awhile, Ghost, who’d been yawning and could hardly keep his eyes open, got up, saying he was going to bed. Steve looked up at him, and just nodded. They knew each other’s thoughts at that moment.

¬†“Is it ok for me to go in there, now?”

¬†“It’s ok for you to go back in there. Call out for me if you need to…I’ll be there.”

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Next part coming soon!

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Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{

© 2016 BS

***

This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some¬†backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and¬†original elements¬†of this story¬†are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story. 

No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblence.

warning      warning      warning      warning

The content herein is rated by me as being at the high end of MA (Mature Audience). It includes strong language, violence, sexual themes, including same sex pairings, religious themes, and fantasy horror.

***

 

TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 11

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 11

warning…adult content

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The rising sun roused them from sleep. It was going to be another scorcher of a day. They decided to pack up and go home. They already had a touch of sunburn, and couldn’t bear to endure another day of the heat.

“Should we go to the house, or go by the Yew?” Steve wondered aloud, as he drove down the highway.

“You can let me off at home,” Ghost replied. “You can go see Kinsey if ya want; besides, he has our pay from the other night.”

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s what I’ll do then,” Steve said, as he drove into their front yard. “Need anything from town?”

“Naw, I’m just gonna chill awhile,” said Ghost.

“See ya later then,” Steve said, as he drove off.

Ghost opened the old screen door, and stood still for a minute, feeling the house. He could usually sense if anything had been disturbed, or if anyone had been there while he and Steve were out. Things seemed ok, so he continued in. He flopped on the old couch and turned on the TV, but couldn’t concentrate. Something was nagging at his brain…something he couldn’t put words to yet. He tried to push his senses further, but all he got was an unsettled feeling. He wished Steve would come home now.

But, Steve was at the Yew, recounting the fishing trip to Kinsey and Terry, who’d come back by when he saw Steve pull up.

“Well, lookie who survived the camping trip,” teased Terry. “How’d it go, man?”

Steve found he had a willing audience to tell his tale to, so began at the beginning and left nothing out…except the ending, of course.¬†He had the two older men laughing at Ghost’s antics at the lake, but they had no idea if it really happened that way. They’d have to wait to hear Ghost’s version. They had no inkling that they’d never get to hear it.

Steve stayed at the bar, drinking beer after beer. The¬†club opened, and customers were having fun. Some of Steve’s old pals from high school (before he’d dropped out) came in and got to bragging about all the fun they could have over in Raleigh. They invited Steve along. Steve was in a partying mood, so he agreed to meet them in a while.

Kinsey was a little concerned, as Steve was certainly feeling the beer he’d drunk. He looked askance at Steve, who just blew him off with a slightly belligerent tone.

“I’m gonna have some fun tonight. Don’t be bringing me down, Kinsey.”

Kinsey backed off, but had a bad feeling about what Steve was about to do. “But, hey,” he thought, “he’s a grown assed man, he can do what he wants. I’m not his keeper, after all.”

Steve left in a fume of alcohol, and¬†squealing tires,¬†out of the parking lot toward home. He would tell Ghost not to wait up for him. But, when he arrived, he found that Ghost was all clingy, and was begging him not to go…to stay there with him.

“Dammit, Ghost, I need a night off from you once in awhile.”

Ghost looked hurt, and Steve knew he’d sounded mean, but the liquor went further than his mouth. It made his brain say things he normally would never say. Steve went to splash water on his face to try and sober up a bit. When he came out, Ghost wasn’t in the house.

“Great, now the little son-of-a-bitch is mad again.” He went out the front door to the T-bird. What he saw enraged him. Ghost was fiddling around under the hood of the car.

“What the hell, Ghost?” he yelled. “Get your ass away from there.”

Ghost had been trying to disable the car, but didn’t really know how, or what to do to make that happen, and didn’t have time anyway. Steve rushed over, grabbed Ghost by the back of his shirt, and spun him forcefully around.

“Steve, wait,” Ghost pleaded. “Don’t go, please don’t go!”

“Shut up!” Steve yelled, right up in Ghost’s face. “Get outta my way, I’m going.” He slammed shut the car’s hood, barely missing Ghost’s fingers on the edge of the car, then violently threw Ghost to the ground.

The blow had knocked the breath out of Ghost. He lay there stunned. Without another word, as he went for the car door, Steve tripped over Ghost as he lay there, kicking him in the ribs. He slammed the car door shut and threw gravel as he sped off, never knowing, or even caring, that he’d almost run over his best friend.

Ghost’s breath returned slowly, as he gasped, still lying there on the ground. The sobbing he heard, as if from far away, didn’t register at first as his own. His ears were pounding, as was his head, and gravel, hot from the day’s heat, burned his back.¬†He felt searing pain on his face and arms, where the gravel had hit him, as they had flown from under the car’s tires.¬†His side hurt¬†him to move, but eventually he crawled up to the porch. His mind was reeling. What should he do, what could he do? He feared for when Steve returned. He’d never, ever¬†been really¬†afraid of¬†Steve before. Steve swore he’d never hurt him,¬†but he had, more than once,¬†and Ghost¬†knew it wasn’t over. The bad feeling he’d sensed had only gotten stronger.

Ghost slowly made his way up the porch steps and into the house, where he eased himself onto the couch. He was hurting mentally and physically. Visions of him and Steve kept running through his mind…the good times, and the bad…and, there were bad times between them, but never as bad as this. Steve had hit him before, when under the influence of alcohol. He never remembered what he’d done the next day, though. Ghost never mentioned it either, and when Steve would ask about how he’d gotten a black eye or bruises on his body, Ghost would make up some excuse. He didn’t know why he did that.

As he lay there enveloped in his visions of things gone by, he kept hearing a song…what was it? Little by little he started humming to himself, and the words came, causing him such anguish. It was *Phil Collins “In the Air Tonight”. “Oh, God,” he thought, “that could be written for me and Steve.” He’d known, or sensed all his life that everything good that happened to him would be taken away…eventually. And now, the meaning¬†of it all came down to this night. He sobbed into the old couch…the one that held¬†all his tears since he was little.

~

Then, in the darkest part of the night,¬†shortly before dawn, Steve came back. He was still reeling from his night out¬†with the guys, feeling like he was not so much of an outsider with them now. He felt he’d needed some male bonding,¬†and boy had they. Drinking, telling macho stories, dancing at a club with loose women…and that, as he now arrived home, made him feel just as guilty, as much as it had earlier made him feel accepted into this wild crowd. The woman he’d been with had¬†made him feel amazing. It had been a long time since Ann. But, now he had to get back to reality. He had to deal with Ghost.

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Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{

© 2016 BS

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*”In the Air Tonight” by Phil Collins, appears on the album “Face Value” – 1981

Next part coming soon!

Peace, Love, & Writing

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This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some¬†backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and¬†original elements¬†of this story¬†are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story. 

No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblence.

warning      warning      warning      warning

The content herein is rated by me as being at the high end of MA (Mature Audience). It includes strong language, violence, sexual themes, including same sex pairings, religious themes, and fantasy horror.

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 8

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 8

warning…adult content

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8th Installment

warning…adult content

The club was soon filled with hungry and excited kids. Food orders were kept coming and the drinks and sandwiches were disappearing fast. Kids milled around, listening to the jukebox, playing pool and video games, and reading the wall. Some looked confused at the strange new writing Ghost had put on there earlier that morning. It was scribbled and unfinished, just as they’d left it.

“Wow, that seems like so long ago,” Kinsey thought. It had been a long day.

Steve and Ghost slowly made their way to the stage, greeting the kids along the way. This is what the kids had been waiting for. Lost Souls? were back in town, and they were ready for the music to start.

Steve got his guitar, and Ghost got his microphone. Terry and R.J. were sitting in tonight, too, on drums and bass. They did so occasionally, and this was one night they didn’t want to miss out on. Steve strummed the strings and nodded to the guys in back. As he played the first notes of the first song, he nodded at Ghost and smiled. Ghost grinned and began singing.

Tonight’s set was going to be mostly covers of southern rock songs, with a couple of their own originals thrown in the mix. They always included¬† their “World”* song and “We Are Not Afraid”. The crowd stood transfixed as the golden, gravelly voice of Ghost began the first song…a cover of the Eagles, “One Of These Nights”.* When Ghost sang, he was the song, and he brought everyone along with him. From the first to last note, from the first to last song, Ghost was who he was meant to be.

Kinsey watched the magic happen. With a new-found knowledge of how Steve and Ghost meshed together, he could see that every song was chosen very carefully, whether anyone knew or not, to be a meaningful, loving tribute to each other. That gave the show, the songs, the looks Steve and Ghost gave each other on stage, and even the smiles, the movements, and the banter to the crowd a whole, new fuller, more special dimension.

Kinsey felt his eyes begin to sting at the love he felt between those two. “Damn, I’m a silly old fool, getting all choked up at a couple of employees,” he thought, “but they are more than that,” he knew. They were more like family, in a way. He continued to watch as the show progressed through a foot stomping cover of Pure Prairie League’s, “Amie.”*

Everyone was having a great time. As the songs neared the finale, they sang “Serenade”,* by the Steve Miller Band, which was always an eerie kind of song, but fit so well with Steve and Ghost and the club kids they played for. Without a pause, it segued into the anthem they always ended the show with, “Hole in the World”*, by the Eagles. Those were the very first words of the very first song Ghost had written on the wall.

Steve and Ghost stood back to back, as if they would always be together and have each other’s back, no matter what…and if you’re not alone, if you have that special someone, you will not be afraid of anything. Blond shining hair and ebony curls mingled together as they sang and played their last song of the night. The crowd drew closer, mesmerized by the words and the rhythmic beats all around them.

By the time the last vibrations of the guitar had echoed off the walls, Steve and Ghost both were in tears. Tears of sadness, tears of love, tears of hope…that their lives would mean something…that there was a reason they were here at this time and this place.

The crowd was holding on to each other as they swayed together, shedding their own tears for humanity and the future. Kinsey was moved to tears of his own this night, for reasons he knew, and something else he felt in the air, in the electricity, in the essence of everyone here, but especially for Ghost and Steve. Something very unsettling to him…but, he knew not what it was.

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*”One of These Nights” by the Eagles (Don Henley/Glenn Frey; Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.)

*”Amie” by Pure Prarie League (Craig Lee Fuller; Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.)

*”Serenade” by The Steve Miller Band (Sailor Records/Capitol Records, Inc.)

*”Hole in the World” by the Eagles (Don Henley/Glenn Frey; Universal Music Publishing Group)

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Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{

© 2016 BS

***

This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some¬†backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and¬†original elements¬†of this story¬†are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story. 

No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblence.

warning      warning      warning      warning

The content herein is rated by me as being at the high end of MA (Mature Audience). It includes strong language, violence, sexual themes, including same sex pairings, religious themes, and fantasy horror.

***

Next part coming soon!

 

TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 7

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 7

Warning…adult content

 

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Back at the Sacred Yew, they unloaded the supplies. Kinsey looked at his watch, “Well, it must have gone better than you expected, huh? Only took three and a half hours.”

Steve muttered, “You just should’a been there.”

Ghost stumbled in, then, carrying the fishing poles and wearing the hat. “Look what Steve’n me got!”

Kinsey looked surprised.

“It’s fishing stuff, Kinsey. We’re gonna go tomorrow and catch us some, and Steve’ll kill ’em and I’ll cook ’em and…and then we’ll eat ’em, and maybe we’ll bring back some for you.” Ghost babbled on and on.

“Was¬†this really your idea,¬†Steve?” Kinsey asked.

“Yeah, thought it’d be something fun to do.”

“Well, I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Steve, but y’all have fun. I’ve got to get back to work. Y’all be back here by eight, ok? Get set up and start the show by nine.”¬†

“Yeah, I’m gonna go catch a nap I guess. Eight sounds good. See ya then,” said Steve. “C’mon, Ghost, let’s go.”

“Can I just stay here, Steve? I think I’ll help Kinsey with his chores. I already took a nap on the way back,” Ghost said.

“Suit yourself…see ya later,” answered Steve, as he shuffled out the big wooden door.

Kinsey came back out of the store room and looked at Ghost, who just smiled and said he was going to help out awhile. “What ‘cha need me to do, Kinsey?”

“Well, let’s see…the floor needs mopping, the tables wiped down, the bar stocked, oh, and I still need to get the soup and sandwiches made. Why don’t you get the mop and get started?”

Ghost made a sour face, then brightened up. “I can do the food, ok?”

“You can do the food?” Kinsey looked doubtful.

“Sure, I do the cooking at home all the time. Steve loves what I cook.”

“Well…,” Kinsey hesitated, “it’s just simple soup and sandwiches. I guess you can handle that, so ok, Ghost, it’s all your’s tonight.”

¬†“Yay! Show me where the stuff is and I’ll start,” bubbled Ghost.

Kinsey showed him the kitchen area and supplies, of instant noodle soup, lunch meat, and bread.

“I need enough for about a hundred customers, I guess.”

“Ok, Kinsey, but not this.” Ghost held up the package of soup. “I hate that stuff. I’ll make my speciality and surprise you, and it won’t take long either.”

“Fine, fine, let’s just get started, ok?”

Kinsey began mopping the floors. Ghost worked as fast as he could, making a towering mound of sandwiches. He was just finishing up the huge pot of soup, when Kinsey wandered in.

“Hey, something smells great, Ghost! What kind is it?”

Ghost had Kinsey close his eyes and have a taste.

“Is that…potato soup?” Kinsey asked, reaching for another spoonful.

“Sure is.”

“It’s delicious, Ghost.”

Ghost beamed at the compliment. “Well, it’s all finished and there’s still a while left before the show, so can I just kinda rest a bit in your office, Kinsey, on that nice soft couch ya got in there?”

Kinsey smiled and nodded. Ghost took off while Kinsey finished up his chores and then took a much needed coffee break, himself. He then went to get his register tape and a few other items from the office. When he opened the door, he found that Ghost had indeed fallen asleep on the old couch. He looked at the eccentric young man, smiled, and shook his head. Who would have thought Ghost was such a good cook. He’d heard Steve going on about the banana pancakes and such before, but when had Ghost learned cooking anyway? Old Miz Deliverance must have been teaching him something after all.

He then noticed that Ghost had a book opened on his chest, while he’d fallen asleep.¬† “What on Earth?” he asked himself. “It’s my old college math textbook.”¬† He had all sorts of books in his office, as he was a bit of a hoarder and liked to read a lot. He never threw away a book. But, why would Ghost choose a math text to read? There were so many more interesting choices. He shrugged and went on about his business. “Maybe I’ll ask him about it later,” he thought.

Steve showed up pretty much on time, and Kinsey pointed to the office, telling him that Ghost had finally wound down…he should go wake him up. Steve entered the office and saw Ghost still asleep. His heart did a little flip flop as he looked at his best friend, all relaxed in sleep. Then he, too noticed the book Ghost had chosen.

He shook his head and his bottom lip quivered at the sight…the anguish it caused.

“Oh, Ghost,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry it pains you so much.”

Steve walked over to Ghost and knelt down beside the couch, watching him sleep for just a moment. He loved to watch Ghost sleep. Ghost always had the most vivid dreams, and always told him about them. Steve brushed a strand of hair off Ghost’s forehead.

“Hey…wake up, Ghost,” he whispered. Then he shook Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost’s pale blue eyes fluttered open, looking at Steve in that half awake state, then he smiled.

“Hey, Steve.”

“You ready to sing?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I’m always ready to sing,” Ghost yawned and sat up, putting his arms around Steve in a warm embrace.

They had not noticed Kinsey watching them from the doorway. “Ahem,” Kinsey cleared his throat. “It’s about time, guys. I’m opening the door. The crowd’s already getting impatient.”

***

Next part coming soon!

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{

© 2016 BS

***

This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some¬†backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and¬†original elements¬†of this story¬†are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story. 

No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblence.

warning      warning      warning      warning

The content herein is rated by me as being at the high end of MA (Mature Audience). It includes strong language, violence, sexual themes, including same sex pairings, religious themes, and fantasy horror.

***

 

TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 6

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 6

Warning…adult content

~

6th installment

warning…adult content

 

***

“Why not, Steve? Are you scared to get a tattoo?” Ghost teased.

“No, I’m not, but I know you are,” Steve said as a matter of fact. “Besides, I already got one a long time ago.”

Ghost stopped there on the sidewalk and looked hard at Steve. “Where?” he asked. “I’ve seen all of you and never saw one.”

“It’s hidden,” Steve said, “end of subject.”

“Let me see it or I won’t believe it…right here, right now.”

“Fine, you want to see it? Here ya go.” Steve pulled back his hair and pointed to the area behind his left ear.

Ghost looked amazed that he’d never noticed it before. “Did it hurt much?” he asked.

“Yeah, it hurt, what do ya think it felt like, a tickle?”

“Well,” Ghost said, “let me look closer.” He did, then said in wonder, “It’s your own name! It says Steve!”

“So what?” Steve answered back.

At this, Ghost burst out laughing. He was overcome with the thought of Steve’s¬† unique tattoo. He doubled over and could hardly stand up, he was laughing so hard. He tried talking through his giggles, snorts, and tears of laughter running down his face.

“What…why…why do you…need to remember your own…name? do you…have to look…look…in the mirror to remember…who…who…you are every day?” He continued, “Then…Oh, my God…it would be backwards! It’d be evets.” He laughed even harder.

Steve just glared at him, not seeing anything funny about it. “So what if it’s my name. I got it when I was stupid and drunk one night. The guy asked me what I wanted, and I thought he asked me what my name was…so thats’s what I said. And that’s what he put on there…and that’s all there was to it.”

Ghost just couldn’t let it go. “At least it wasn’t on your arm or something!” he howled.

Steve had had enough by then. “Ghost, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m gonna smack you. I mean it! SHUT-UP!”

He started walking again. Behind him, Ghost kept trying to stop, wiping his face on his jacket sleeve, but still a fresh burst of laughter would rise up and be heard.

Steve whirled around, punched Ghost in the shoulder. “I told you to shut up!”

Ghost kept trying to stifle his giggles and finally had a little more control. He took a deep breath and said, “Now I’m really hungry, Steeeve!”

“Forget it, we’re going home now. At least I am. You can just stay here and laugh for all I care.” Steve stomped off to the T-Bird.

“No, no, no, we haven’t got our prize yet!” Ghost trailed after him.

They sat in the car now while Steve tried to calm down. “Hey, Ghost, I was thinking of something to buy. You know that show we were watching the other day…some guys were out there on a lake, fishing?”

“Yeah,” answered Ghost.

“Well,” Steve continued, “we could get us some fishing poles and catch some fish.”

Ghost just looked at him like, what a crazy idea. “Have you ever fished before?” he asked.

“Yeah, a long time ago. I caught some, too. Then the guys I was with, we cooked them over the campfire and ate them. Mmmm.”

Ghost looked worried.

“What? You have something against fishing? You eat fish, don’t you?” Steve asked.

“Well, yeah, but, I don’t kill them!” Ghost said.

“Well, how do you think you got to eat them then. Somebody had to kill them,” Steve reasoned.

“Yeah, but, it wasn’t me.”

“Don’t worry about it, then. You just eat what we catch, I’ll do the rest. Let’s check out the thrift shop down the road. Bet they’ll have some fishing stuff.” Steve started the car and they went to find fishing gear.

Ghost was still a bit hesitant about the whole idea, so he let Steve find equipment, while he just looked around.

“Hey, Steve, this stuff is what you wanted to buy. What’s mine?”

Steve shrugged and plopped an old fisherman’s hat onto Ghost’s head, saying, “Here ya go, this is what you want, right? See, it has fish hooks on it and everything!”

“Yeah, sure, Steve,” Ghost said as they paid and left the store. Steve went on and on about how the fishing trip would go. Ghost was hardly listening. He laid his head on the door frame, blond hair hanging out the open window, feet in Steve’s lap. He closed his eyes and drowsed to Steve’s words.

***

 

~This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some¬†backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and¬†original elements¬†of this story¬†are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story. 

No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblence.

warning      warning      warning      warning

The content herein is rated by me as being at the high end of MA (Mature Audience). It includes strong language, violence, sexual themes, including same sex pairings, religious themes, and fantasy horror.

~

Next part coming soon!

Thanks for visiting! Peace }i{

TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 3

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 3

warning…adult content

~

“One day after school,” Steve continued, “a gang of guys trapped Ghost just as he left the building. They dragged him into the woods behind the school. I didn’t see this happen, but followed the sounds I was hearing.”

Steve was breathing heavily now, his heart beating in his chest like it would explode. After a deep shuddery breath, he went on.

“What I saw in those woods will haunt me forever. They had stripped Ghost of his clothes and were holding him down, taking turns torturing him. They punched and kicked and burnt him with lit cigarettes. I hollered at them to stop, and a couple of them grabbed me and called me a fag lover, and if I didn’t keep out of it they’d do the same to me. I tried to fight them off, but just couldn’t, Kinsey, I just couldn’t take on all of them at once.” Steve’s voice was anguished at his helplessness to save Ghost.

Kinsey said slowly, “Did they…?”

Steve shook his head. “They were going to, all of them, but that was for later. They still had more pain to dish out. One guy had a pocket knife. He pulled it out of his dirty pocket and flicked it open. He looked around the circle of guys and they all nodded, like this had been planned all along. As they held Ghost down even tighter, the guy put the knife over Ghost’s right foot and started…oh, God!…oh, God!” Steve whimpered.

“He started sawing off Ghost’s little toe, back and forth, over and over,¬†the sawing, through skin and then bone. I could hear the knife cutting through the bone, Kinsey! I could hear it! Oh, God! I could hear it even over Ghost’s screams. I hear it now, in my nightmares, the screams and the cutting.”

Tears were pouring down Steve’s face now and he sobbed. Kinsey’s¬†eyes were full of tears, too. He even felt faint, so he sat down on the floor¬†behind the bar where they’d been standing.

“Jesus, Steve,” was all he said.

Steve¬†went on. “Finally the toe was off and the guys were going to go to the next part of their plan…taking their turn on Ghost. But, they got scared of someone hearing them. Ghost was still screaming and I was cussing everyone as loud as I¬†could, hoping someone would hear. So the gang decided to shut Ghost up.

They hit him on the head with a baseball bat. I heard it crack down on Ghost’s head. You know, I think it was his skull that cracked, not the bat.” Steve said, as if in a trance now, his voice monotone and calm. Kinsey didn’t know what to think. Steve was reliving it all.

 

“Ghost was knocked out cold. The screaming stopped, the bleeding hadn’t though. They got scared they’d killed him, so they all suddenly took off, leaving me and Ghost there alone. I’m totally freaked out. What could I do to help Ghost? I didn’t really even know him, but I had to do something. I knew I couldn’t drag him all the way down to the school parking lot, so I ran as fast as I could over there and got the T-Bird started on one try, drove it as close as I could over the grass and up to the tree line. I ran up to see if he was still alive. He was, but just barely.

Just barely breathing and still bleeding… I wrapped his foot up as best as I could in my t-shirt and picked Ghost up and carried him to the car. I knew he lived out of town on Burnt Church Road somewhere, so I hauled ass out that way. Ghost was moaning some, and I knew I had to hurry. Maybe his Grandmother would know what to do. Shit, Kinsey, we were just barely into our teens. We weren’t supposed to be having crises like this to figure out.

So I got to the house at the dead end of the road and figured this was it. It looked kinda spooky. I’d heard all the stories about the voo-doo lady that lived there. I start honking the horn, and then scrambled out and lifted Ghost out and ran to the door. She came out and took one look and said softly “Ghost Child, what’s happened?”

I told her of his injuries and she patted me on the arm and said,”Thank you, Steve. Thank you for helping my Ghost Child.” I asked should I go find a doctor, or carry him to Raleigh for the hospital. She just shook her head no…said she’d take care of him. I didn’t know what else to do, but I hung around awhile, just in case. She came out of the bedroom, then and said I could stay if I wanted. So I did for a little bit. Then I just drove around. We never did go back to school. That was it for us. I did wonder how she knew my name, though.” Steve stopped for a minute, thinking.

“I went back up there once in awhile to check on how Ghost was…scared, really to hear that maybe he didn’t make it. But, every time, Miz Deliverance met me at the door and wouldn’t let me in. She said the time wasn’t right, that Ghost would be ok one day. Thanks for checking on him. You know, stuff like that.

Then she said something that at the time seemed ok, but now, looking back on it, was maybe a premonition? She said the time will come one day when the two of us would be like one. Then she closed the door. It freaks me out now…how did she know? How did she know? She’d never laid eyes on me before that day I’d brought Ghost home.”

~

next installment coming soon…

~

This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some¬†backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and¬†original elements¬†of this story¬†are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story. 

No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblence.

warning      warning      warning      warning

The content herein is rated by me as being at the high end of MA (Mature Audience). It includes strong language, violence, sexual themes, including same sex pairings, religious themes, and fantasy horror.

Peace, Love, & Writing

Thanks for visiting!

© 2016 BS

TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 2

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TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE … # 2

~

warning…adult content

“Kinsey, I love Ghost, you know I do. I’ve loved him since I first met him, in one way or another. But, damn, it’s so frustrating sometimes to get Ghost to focus on anything! You go somewhere, or maybe not even anywhere, just at home, but, it’s worse when we go somewhere. It doesn’t matter where. Everything is a distraction to him. You go to get what you came for and twenty things will catch his eye on the way, and he’ll have to stop and look at it, or touch it, and tell me a story about it, and make up a song on the spot about it. Over and over it happens. I grab his wrist or shove him from behind to get him to move along, but then he gets pouty about it, drags his feet, then a second later something else grabs his attention and I have to do it all over again. He’s like a damned little kid you have to reprimand and then bribe him with something to get him out of there. Meantime, I’ve forgotten whatever it was I was needing to get. I just want to get out of there.” Steve finally took a much needed breath and looked over at Ghost.

Kinsey could feel the emotion coming from Steve in waves. Fierce love and a need to be Ghost’s protector always. He thought that was all Steve had to say, but then he was stunned again by his next revelation.

“You know,” Steve said quietly, “Ghost has ADD don’t you?”

“What?” Kinsey looked at Steve incredulously.

“Yeah, since he was a little kid.” Steve looked down at the floor. “I don’t think he wants people to know about it, but I sometimes just need to vent about stuff, ya know?”

“Damn,” Kinsey said, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, back in school they evaluated him and contacted his Grandmother about it, but she basically told them to fuck off…that she’d give him some herbs and potions and work her magic and Ghost would be fine. Well, guess it didn’t help him much.”

Kinsey glanced over at Ghost, who was still happily writing on the wall and humming to himself. His mind was reeling with this information. He’d known Miz Deliverance for many years, and had considered her a valued friend. Some folks called her a kook and avoided her, but he’d overlooked her eccentric ways for the most part. She’d never in all those years mentioned a word about her grandson’s problems.

He tried to remember if he’d ever noticed any behavior in Ghost that was ADD related. He couldn’t pinpoint anything. Ghost seemed like every other active and imaginative kid. He always knew Ghost had a gift of empathy, and could sometimes seem psychic, but he wasn’t even sure he believed any of that. Maybe this explained why Ghost always had a hard time in school, along with being bullied by the other kids. He was thinking of something reassuring to say to Steve, who’d been quiet for a bit, when Steve started talking again in a softer tone than before.

“You know, I think that’s probably when the worst started for Ghost,” Steve went on. “When¬†he first came here, the kids all thought he was kinda weird, because of his name and all. They’d tease him about it. They’d make fun of him, didn’t want to include him in any of their groups. When he started bragging about how his Grandmother was gonna cure him with her mountain medicine, it got worse…so much worse.”

Steve put a¬†hand over his eyes at the remembrance of it. “I’m ashamed to admit this, but I went along with the teasing, too…for a while. I wanted to be liked by the kids. Peer pressure I guess you’d call it now. But, back then all I knew was you stay within your group or be outcast. I was already on thin ice as it was, what with¬†my situation at home. Well, you know about all that, anyway.”

Kinsey nodded. He knew of Steve’s family and how they were, He knew Steve must have tried very hard to fit in, and didn’t want to do anything to upset the way things were for him, tenuous as it was.

Steve went on, a faraway look in his eyes as he recounted his and Ghost’s early years. “The kids all now had even more reason to come after Ghost. Not only with their hateful, hurtful words, but real, painful ammuntion. They’d throw stuff at him, like pinecones at first, and rocks, and sometimes garbage. Called him names…white trash, liar, spook…” Steve swallowed hard and was silent for a minute.

Kinsey just waited. He didn’t know if Steve would continue. In a way he hoped this was all to the story. Then Steve squinched his dark eyes closed for a long moment. Kinsey was transfixed looking at Steve’s face. Rough, tough, Steve Finn was on the verge of crying. His bottom lip quivered and his voice shook as he began talking again.

“Steve,” Kinsey said, stopping him. He touched Steve’s shoulder. “Man, you don’t have to go on. I think I understand.”

Steve made a keening sound in his throat and shook his head, trying to get control of his emotions. “I have to, Kinsey, I have to. I have to tell somebody. It’s been eating me alive all these years, all these memories.” He brushed a tear off his cheek and continued. Kinsey was feeling afraid of what else he would hear…then he was horrified.

~

This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some¬†backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and¬†original elements¬†of this story¬†are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

All songs included in this work will be solely owned by the original performers/writers and will be credited. Creative liscense is taken in including them in this story.

No harm is intended toward author, muscians, or people and situations to whom there may be a resemblance.

~

Next part coming soon!

Thanks for visiting! Peace }I{

COLOR YOUR WORLD – # 2 – “ANTIQUE BRASS”

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COLOR YOUR WORLD – # 2 – “ANTIQUE BRASS”

The color of the day is Antique Brass. Thank you, Jennifer, for hosting this challenge ūüôā

~

DOOR KNOCKERbrass-door-knocker

The little cabin in the North Carolina woods was the home of Steve and Ghost. It was an eclectic mix of witchery and charms, which blended in nicely with their modern day hippie lifestyle, and well suited for the musicians.

Driving the long, dirt road leading up to the gravel drive in front of the cabin, you see the weathered wood structure, rustic in it’s simplicity. You hesitate a few moments, as you sit in your car, wondering if you dare get out.

A set of rickety, board steps lead onto a large, covered porch. There are a couple of chipped coffee cups sitting there, on the porch railing, as if someone had recently been standing there, watching you approach. Did you just see the yellowed, lace curtain twitch back? Your heart skips a beat.

You shouldn’t be afraid. Steve and Ghost are well known, and liked in the small town of Missing Mile, and they are friendly. Yet, still you hesitate on this first visit to their house. A thought crosses your mind, why am I here? You’ve momentarily forgotten. Taking a deep breath, you get out of your car.

The hushed absence of sound, way back here in the woods, is deafening. Not even a bird makes a twitter in the pine trees. It’s as if every creature is waiting for your next move. You step forward, your shoes crunching the gravel…the only sound.

As you set a foot on the first, half-rotted porch step, it creaks. Then, looking farther up, you see the large blue and yellow pentagram, painted on the wood, right in front of the door. Gulping, you feel a shudder flow through your body. Then, you remember. Ghost has spoken of painting his warding off sign, many times before. He said it was to repel evil spirits. But, should you step on it, or over it? Would it bring bad luck?

Looking to your right, you see the old porch swing, gently swaying, even though there is no breeze. A colorful crocheted Afghan is draped haphazardly across the back and seat.¬†You’ve heard stories of Ghost’s grandmother, now deceased. Some people called her a witch, because of her odd ways, and herbal medicines. She must have been the one to have made the Afghan.

You turn back to the front door. When you pull back the old-fashioned screen door, you gasp,¬†seeing a grotesque face staring at you, at eye level.¬† But, it’s only a door knocker…an antique brass gargoyle, with a large ring through it’s nose. Closing your eyes for a second, you know you’ll have to touch it, to knock on the door, but you know you know you don’t want to. why am I here…why am I here? you whisper.

Not wanting to step on the pentagram, you stretch your arm out, to try to grab the nose ring. Barely reaching it, you find it is icy cold, and you shiver, but you pull it back, then let it go. It strikes three times, as it bounces against the metal plate behind it.

That’s all you can manage. You are breathing fast, ready to turn and run, when you see the door slowly opening, and there is Ghost, smiling his crooked grin at you.

“Hey, come on in…I got coffee.”

You smile back, and follow him inside. You are inside the little cabin in the woods, wondering what other strange things you’ll see, and hoping you remember why you’re here.

The end…or not…

~

This was just a little extra for “Two Souls: Into the Fire”… my continuing fan fiction story I write on my other blog, which I invite you to visit, also here¬†.*

*I claim no ownership of the characters, as they were created by Poppy Z. Brite, in her novel, “Lost Souls”. The situations I write, are from my own imagination.

~untitled

Color Your World

 

Thanks for visiting! Peace }I{

© 2016 BS