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Saturday, 18 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 3)

(My story: genre - Horror)
 
The Obsidion School looked like a very grim place. A mass of brick and mortar, with a crooked appearance. All of the windows looked dense with grime, cobwebs and some cracked. The roof had moss and even twigs shooting up through the chimney. The air was electric in the school grounds.
Seth had never come to this place very much. It was in a dead end part of Backwater, next to thick woods and an abandoned rotten church with blackened headstones, all now overgrown.
It was a free school for "strange kids" as everyone told him, including his parents. He attended the local secondary school, Backwater Green High, at the other end of town. But this place, Obsidion school, was a tip. It was a real dump. The only people that lingered near this place sometimes that he saw on his bike journeys were vagrants and tramps. Once the police had arrested some drug addicts here as was mentioned in the Backwater newspaper and that was the only exciting thing that happened to Obsidion School.
The front door was huge. He couldn't find any buzzer, so he used the brass beastly door knockers to bang three times. He waited a little while, and the door opened in the centre. He couldn't see anyone at first. Then Mr Thantos stood in view, still dressed in his hooded cloak.
"You've arrived," said Mr Thantos.
"What did you do to my bike?" Seth asked.
"It's a question that you ought to be asking your friends," he replied. "I found your bike left in the woods and so I decided to return it to you. I left it just over your garden fence."
He grunted a thanks.
Seth noticed some kids in school uniform pass behind Mr Thantos. Seth was feeling uneasy, but not sure why. The smell that oozed out through the door from within the school was sickening and unpleasant. It looked dark inside and almost decayed.
"Are you wanting to stay for my lecture?" Mr Thantos asked, never once with any change of expression.
Seth shook his head. "No, I need to be going back".
"I will just explain how you might win your game and beat your friends if you just stayed for about ten minutes. But if you want to leave, you can go then. But I'm leaving after this night and won't come back here again."
Seth wasn't sure to believe him or not. Something about what Mr Thantos said made him convining enough and wise enough to know what he was talking about. He could kill ten minutes, just ten minutes. Just spend a short while listening to what he had to say that will help him play better at Bikeball might be worthwhile, if not, stupid.
Seth went inside the school and Mr Thantos closed the door. He showed Seth the lecture room and it was just through the nearest door. Everything in the school was dark. No lights, no colours, no posters, pictures, displays, Nothing. Only.... what was that?!!!!
(To be continued)...

Story by Rayne    

Friday, 17 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 2)

(My fictional story continued)... Seth had his bike sorted, and was ready to play a game of Bikeball the following Saturday. But when he arrived to the woods with his team mates and started to play the first round, the bike got a flat tyre again.
"Bad luck, Seth!" his friends told him.
He cursed, and was out of the game so early on.
In despair, he pushed his bike and it went shattering on the ground. He dumped it there in the woods and he made his reluctant trek home on foot, not even caring what the others are doing. There was no more point. He was out. He was probably disqualified due to the bike. That bike was cursed! It had to be. Seth wouldn't miss it. The bike was nothing but trouble and it kept falling to pieces anyway. Its chain would keep coming off. The handlebars would become stiff. The seat came off a few times. It always looked rusty.
He returned home, to his parents and younger sister. They were all watching TV and eating noodles with chicken burgers. He wasn't hungry. He went upstairs to his room and slammed the door, angry that nothing was going his way. That bike let him down and ruined his life. He couldn't have fun with it. He didn't want it.The bike can rot in the woods.
Later, he argued with his parents over the missing bike. His father said "I bought it for your 17th birthday, and you should be grateful!".
Seth told him of his anguish and how the bike was poorly made, but soon it became clear that his father purchased the bike from the internet for just a fiver. It wasn't the bike anymore, but the deciept and lies of his parents, making him think the bike was the most expensive present.
He wanted to leave. He was 19 years old now and already working in a garage part time, while paying towards his keep there. He wanted to start fresh and live away from his parents. He always wanted to live on his own. Then he remembered the old man called Mr Thantos who invited him to attend the Obsidion School.
Seth thought about it for a few hours, and later that night, he decided not to bother going. That place was dirty, full of stinking bins and gangs anyway. He could think of nothing worse than going to the pit of the Backwater. Seth had a weird dream that he was playing Bikeball and all of his teammates were creatures with sharp teeth and red eyes. It woke him up in a sweat. It was so dark. The moon shone. What time was it? He looked at his luminous clock and it was only 2 in the morning.
Seth decided to return to sleep, when he could hear noises coming from outside. He could hear his father snoring in the other room, or was it his mother? He thought it might be a cat. Then he heard the sound of footsteps. He sat up in bed, wondering what it was. He went over to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
Outside it was quite dark, because the street lamps were failed. One of them was blinking on and off. The Backwater was the most neglected part of town that the local authorities never spend money on. But in the yard, which was surrounded by a tall 6ft fence and some hedges growing snugly against the wooden posts, the little shed, and the the lawn. At the back of the yard near the gate was the refuse bin, with no sign of any cats. But the moon sparkled on something there. He focused, and saw a shape. He lost his breathe when he saw that it was his bike!
He pulled on his trousers and shoes, then went downstairs. Seth went out into the yard and ran across the wet lawn, to find that it was indeed his bike. It seemed in worse shape than it had been when he dumped it in the woods. It looked battered, as if an elephants walked on it. Maybe one of his buddies brought it over, but at two in the morning?
He opened the gate and rushed out into the alley behind it, to catch a glimpse of a hooded man in the distance, using a walking cane to assist him. That was no dount Mr Thantos.
Seth wondered, "What does he want"?
(,,, to be continued)
Story written by Rayne

Thursday, 16 November 2017

The Bounty Tax of Death (Part 1)



(Story-genre: Horror)

A boy named Seth Grainfield was feeling angry with himself.
"What have I done!" he said to himself.
He turned his bike around and rode along the thin path. He saw a glimpse of the others in the woods further up the hill on their bikes. He heard shouting. He knew that he was way too behind them now and wouldn't be able to keep up. Anyone knew that those lagging were out of the game before the second round. But he heard it, a "thlunk" sound. He saw it. A ball arcing from the trees, and tumbling down the hill. He sped on his bike towards it. Perhaps he was safe in the game afterall. His team mates were emerging from the woods, speeding on their bikes so quickly as they went down the hill. He had to reach the rolling ball before they did.
He got it! Whack! He hit the ball with his booted foot and sent it across the grass. Others turned on their bikes and did wheelies and somersaults in the air that he couldn't do.He had no time now to be amazed at his team mates riding, he had to get the ball; a second kick would keep him safe until the second round. He missed. Someone else kicked the ball, and then another. He couldn't catch it, as the ball was being kicked all over the place, and finally they ended up back in the woods again.
As the ball was being hunted by sporty cyclists during a new game of Bikeball, Seth was overcome by anger when something sharp penetrated the front wheel. It turned as flat as and useless as spaghetti. Before anyone else noticed, as they all rode off chasing the ball, Seth stopped and got off the bike. He inspected the flat wheel, and found a metallic object stuck inside it. He couldn't pull it out. A nail, with Seth's bike's name on waiting for him to come along. Why did it have to be him that gets it? He was annoyed and kicked the bike.
He flung a stone at a tree. Then he sat down, feeling stupid and gutted to be out of the game. It wasn't fair. He wanted that prize. He wanted a better bike. All his friends have motorbikes and chain bikes, his was a cheap bike that was often going flat. It was a rubbish bike. He heard a loud cry of shouts as his team mates found the ball and fought over it.
"Are you tired, lad?" asked an old voice.
Seth spun round to see who was talking. Coming through the trees was a tall man who looked curious. He had a long white beard, he wore a hooded cloak of blue leather. He was holding a walking cane. Seth shrugged. The old man wouldn't understand.
"No, it's the bike" Seth told him.
The old man didn't look surprised. He seemed to look straight at him with such curious looking eyes.
"The bike is just needing a new wheel. You need to learn how to avoid getting your tyres flat during an intense game. Football is it, but with bikes?"
He was clever for an old guy, "How did you know that? We only invented it the other day."
The man smiled.
"My name is Mr Thantos and I'm an official", said the man with the strange pale pale grey eyes.
Seth stood up.
"I've got to be going," he said. "My friends will finish soon". Seth lifted up his bike and started to walk and painfully drag it along by holding the handlebars. The wheel's tyre flip flopped. The man called Mr Thantos spoke behind him.
"I can help you win this game."
Seth looked at him.
"Really?"
"I can teach you how to play better," said Mr Thantos. "Every Friday evenings from 7 o' clock until 10 o' clock, I teach classes in the Obsidion School."
Seth nodded, and turned away, resuming his walk. He quickened his pace, and needed to return to the other players, even if he'd lost the game.... (to be continued)   

Story by Rayne Belladonna.
Above image designed by Rayne using Doll Divine

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

Do cats bring bad luck?


No they don't. This is an old medieval superstition that cats are associated with the devil and are witches familiars. During the Middle Ages, paranoid people were so afraid of cats and dogs, that they began exterminating the helpless animals by the thousands. Once all the domestic dogs and kitties were gone from Britain, the Black Death plague moved in. No cats left to kill any of the infestation of mice and rats coming off boats. These crazy ideas still linger today. People are scared witless of seeing black or white cats crossing their path. They’re too scared to adopt a fluffy kitten over Halloween because they think it’s evil. There are people who believe cats want to rule the world, and others who are vindictive and steal other peoples cats to make a quick buck. There are some who blame cats for pollution and causing damage to the environment, harming wildlife and causing mass extinctions. No, it isn't cats responsible for those things. It’s humans that are the cause of bad luck.