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Sentence cont'd.

  
 
We're The Great Old Ones Now
06:04 / 11.02.02
Crenshaw
Junior Member
Member # 1531

posted 03-02-2002 06:19 AM    
          
As her man pulled the blanket over his head and his testicles up into pelvis, Cecily fumbled for her DEA-issued handgun on the nightstand, knocking aside cigarettes, ashtray and car keys, but the little table was drifting away from her, the blown-glass lamp tipping over as the nightstand slithered out of reach, along with the desk, dresser and crumpled piles of clothes; the walls, too, were receding, and now revolving, slowly at first, then picking up speed, the framed seascapes blurring with the windows, while the frozen couple on the motionless bed cowered under the nameless, loathsome shape that had begun to scream in a language no human had ever heard.
Posts: 16 | From: | Registered: Feb 2002  |  IP: Logged

Flux = The Dancing Architect
Member
Member # 1324

posted 04-02-2002 03:19 PM    
          
It felt as though time was standing still, but the world was spinning faster.
Posts: 1053 | From: New York | Registered: Dec 2001  |  IP: Logged

grant
Member
Member # 683

posted 04-02-2002 04:40 PM    
             
Old Francisco would be wondering where she was by now, wondering why the latest mother for his unholy heir was not properly manacled in her bridal chamber.
Posts: 1426 | From: peninsular america | Registered: Sep 2001  |  IP: Logged

MaChine Lentil
Member
Member # 1396

posted 04-02-2002 04:40 PM    
             
The scream increased in pitch and intensity as the world accelerated until, for all its otherworldly horror, it achieved a strange familiarity, twanging long- dormant chords of memory in Cecily's fevered brain.
Posts: 95 | From: east london | Registered: Dec 2001  |  IP: Logged

MaChine Lentil
Member
Member # 1396

posted 04-02-2002 04:59 PM    
             
Cecily: "I never loved that fucker anyway." [thinks] "Is that Smashing Pumpkins I can hear?"
Posts: 95 | From: east london | Registered: Dec 2001  |  IP: Logged

Billy Corgan
Member
Member # 1277

posted 04-02-2002 05:10 PM    
             
It was the greatest, most beautiful and meaningful music she had heard with her mortal ears - it was The Smashing Pumpkins indeed! (Specifically, "Thru The Eyes Of Ruby" from the megaplatinum double album Mellon Collie and The Infinite Sadness)
Posts: 43 | From: Chicago | Registered: Nov 2001  |  IP: Logged

The Return Of Rothkoid
Member
Member # 1302

posted 04-02-2002 05:39 PM    
             
It was a shame that the music was so distorted - following the sound, she discovered that it was originating from a battered ear-trumpet that rested on a nearby side-table.
[ 04-02-2002: Message edited by: The Return Of Rothkoid ]
Posts: 701 | From: A well-appointed - though recently rearranged - matchbox. | Registered: Nov 2001  |  IP: Logged

Rush Limbaugh
Junior Member
Member # 1501

posted 04-02-2002 07:18 PM    
             
Cecily lifted the trumpet to her ear, and immediately heard a tiny voice scream "Don't make fun of the deaf!"
Posts: 10 | From: The Land of the Brave, Home of the Free | Registered: Jan 2002  | IP: Logged

grant
Member
Member # 683

posted 05-02-2002 03:36 PM    
             
She stirred as an uneasy sleeper stirs, put down the ear trumpet, and gathered a few personal things together - only those things she would need to get off the grounds and to headquarters.
Posts: 1426 | From: peninsular america | Registered: Sep 2001  |  IP: Logged

gridley
Junior Member
Member # 1521

posted 05-02-2002 04:50 PM    
          
She gathered up the lotus blossoms from beneath her pillow, the golden ladle from her boot, the stoppered glass vial from the nightstand, and just in case of trouble, a small paperback novel entitled "The Bleeding Gun."
 
 
We're The Great Old Ones Now
12:33 / 11.02.02
It is the book that guides her, now as ever, foxed paperback bible, Chandler by way of Greer, a survival guide for the world of the New Noir; as every day, she considers leaving it behind.
 
 
gridley
13:12 / 11.02.02
Flipping pages back and forth under her thumb, she experiences once again the illusion of shuffling a deck of cards, until her thumbnail catches on page 133, which begins: "Leaving the Hindu holy man lying motionless in the bed beside him, Nick Mesa opened the window and headed out onto the roof."
 
 
the Fool
20:42 / 11.02.02
...now she's out the door, heading to her car, wondering about the dead man in the boot...

[ 14-02-2002: Message edited by: the Fool ]
 
 
lentil
09:19 / 12.02.02
.... weeping all the while.

[ 15-02-2002: Message edited by: Lentil [Must Chew] ]
 
 
Ganesh
09:19 / 12.02.02
The dashboard clock reads 03:47 (isn't it always 03:47 in New Noir?) as she reaches the rendering plant and, succumbing to a strange lack of impulse, keeps going...

[ 12-02-2002: Message edited by: Ganesh v4.2 ]
 
 
No star here laces
10:39 / 12.02.02
The wheels of the pitiless automobile turn and turn, ejecting the road like so many sheets of paper from an overworked office printer while the radio plays the aural equivalent of cheap perfume.
 
 
the Fool
00:03 / 14.02.02
She wondered, as she turned the car gently into the rendering plant parking lot, whether or not she had remembered to put Gary's body in the boot of the car...
 
 
gridley
12:16 / 14.02.02
Twitching nervously, she tries to remember why she killed Gary, and if she even really did kill him, and then, as she start to weep again, mutters to herself, "And why am I wearing this brand new wedding dress if I just murdered my husband? What is happening to me?"
 
 
the Fool
19:14 / 14.02.02
Was it Deja Vu? she swore this had already happened, as each scene seemed to play out as predictibly as a school patomime.
 
 
We're The Great Old Ones Now
09:32 / 15.02.02
She blinks *-discontinuity-* and she is three years old, staring up and her teacher, Mr. Baines, as he explains the nature of the Noir; she is sitting in the back seat of a car as a girl in a wedding dress glances nervously over her shoulder and sees a reflection in the rear window of her own worried face; she is standing by the side of the road as the car passes and bursts into flames a hundred meters further down the road *-discontinuity-* and the car whizzes by into the night, leaving her, in her wedding dress, by the side of the road, the slim weight of her husband's gun cool against the small of her back.
 
 
the Fool
09:32 / 15.02.02
She trembles in the darkness as her world snaps back into focus, "I just killed my husband, I am a murderer, I planned this all".
 
 
gridley
19:34 / 15.02.02
Suddenly she is overcome with the stench of wet cigarettes, as Old Francisco solidifies before her like a shadow the color of dried blood, whispering, "Of course, you did, my dear, otherwise you wouldn't be ready to be my bride?"
 
  
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