Showing posts with label blade. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blade. Show all posts

Friday, February 18, 2011

TIME DOUCHE CH. 4 - Betray Marie



TIME DOUCHE CH.4 - BETRAY MARIE
BY Mandy Ward


You look from the brutes to Marie, wondering if you really ought to defend her. After all, she seems ready to sleep with just about anyone who takes her fancy and certainly doesn’t care about the common folk, despite her intention to live as one of them. So what if she’s sexy and curvy and everything you like in a woman? Underneath it all, she’s still as sluttish and unfaithful as a camp follower.

“I’m glad you guys turned up,” you drawl. “I discovered this bitch lying in wait for Napoleon. I think she was going to murder him.”

Three of them look at her and she whimpers, but stands her ground. The fourth frowns. “It looks more like she’s trying to seduce you.”

“Of course she’s trying to seduce me. She’s attempting to leave this place alive.” You bluster a little, hoping they’ll take it for anger when all of a sudden you’re actually rather scared.

“Why would a woman like this want to murder Napoleon?” the fourth man asks.

Great. Trust one of them to have brains and brawn. You were trying to get them to arrest her and then you were going to wake Napoleon to come to her rescue, but you’ll have to spill the beans now. “She’s a member of the royal family. I mean, for God’s Sake, look at her; the bearing, the accent, the figure!”

Marie draws in a deep breath and, almost as one, the men’s eyes are drawn to her ample assets. Yes, that’s right. Go on, scream for help and watch Napoleon appear to find four men smirking at your chest.

But you realise that only two of the men are leering. The other two have drawn their swords and, with only a second’s pause, they lop the heads off the two drooling brutes. Then they both drop to their knees, their sword points grounded and heads bowed. “De la naissance à la mort, que nous servons notre reine,” the brainy one says softly.

From Birth to Death, we serve our Queen. The translation makes you shudder. So she’s not given up on her birthright after all.

The blood from the slaughtered men pools out around their bodies. Marie delicately steps away from it, holding her skirts out of the crimson liquid.
“Thank you, gentlemen. It is a relief to know that I can count on such loyalty still. You may rise.”

They stand up. “What do we do with him, your majesty?” the brainy one says.

“He saved Napoleon’s life today, but was about to force himself on my person,” she says, her head tilting back slightly as if she’d smelled something rotten. “That is against the law and is punishable by death; but for the act of saving My Love’s life and returning him to me, I reward him with a quick death rather than being drawn and quartered.”

“Oh now, hang on! You were coming onto me, not the other way round,” you protest loudly as they advance towards you.

“What’s going on?” Napoleon emerges, chest bare and blinking sleep from his eyes. “Marie, is there a problem? Why are two of my men dead?”

Her lovely eyes go wide and her bottom lip trembles before she flies to his side, ignoring the blood that splashes up her skirts in her haste to reach him. “Oh Napoleon! This . . .this . . .thug tried to force himself on me!”

Lying bitch. You think fast, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation. In your pocket you can hear Thomas muttering something, but it’s not loud enough for you to hear properly. He’s probably just cursing me again.

“What?” Napoleon’s gaze drops onto you and you shiver at the fury in his eyes. “Captain, what is the truth of this matter?” his arm curls around Marie’s waist and pulls her to him protectively.

The intelligent one replies. “Sir, we were passing by your door when we heard muffled cries in here. We forced our way in and found this man—“ he points his bloodied blade at you, “—and his two confederates attacking Madame Marie. He insisted that she is the Fille de France and that she should be executed. His confederates suggested having some fun with her first and that was when we entered.”

The other man nods as Napoleon looks at him.

Oh come on, Napoleon, you’re smarter than that! Use your brain, they have blood all over them and are carrying bare blades, for Christ’s sake.

“We beheaded the brutes and were about to administer the same fate to their leader when you entered,” the Captain finishes.

You sigh as Napoleon looks at you. “You saved my life so that you could kill my love? How dare you.”

You try to appeal to his political side. “Look, I swear that I am innocent of this! She was trying to seduce me and she admitted to being Marie Therese, the French Princess. Of course she’s going to lie about it, she’s a noblewoman!”

He holds out his hand and the captain places his sword into it. “Stand back, my love, I must dispatch this ruffian!”

“A man in love is only as intelligent as his todger,” you mutter, sighing and attempting to put some distance between you and the enraged Napoleon.

The two soldiers place themselves between you and Marie, while Napoleon advances towards you. You back away and slip in the blood pool surrounding one of the bodies. Catching yourself against a chair, you pull yourself upright, turn and trip over the second body.

“Aha! I have you now.” Napoleon springs forward and lunges smoothly, the blade piercing your back, carving through your ribcage and as the point touches your heart. You think Oh, well, Nubleman isn’t going to get his time machine back.

Your heart bursts and blood flows out of every upper orifice, adding to the pool on the floor. Your last sight is of Marie. The damn bitch has a smirk on her face. What a nasty piece of work; I’m glad I didn’t do her now…

THE END

Thursday, December 16, 2010

WELCOME TO HELLYWOOD CH.5 - A MATTER OF SIZE


WELCOME TO HELLYWOOD CH.5 - A MATTER OF SIZE
By Mandy Ward

You saunter over, trying your best to look casual. “Hi Traywen.”


“Hello yourself,” she purrs, completely ignoring the idiot on her arm.


Screams temporarily deafen the two of you as a horde of teenage girls run over, mobbing you and forcing the bodyguards to hustle all three of you into a black limo. You sigh happily as you sink into the soft, butter-coloured leather seat. This sort of life is too good to give up for the inconvenience of a soul. You can do without it!


Traywen snuggles up to you, stroking your cheek. “I’ve been a fan of yours forever, Justin.”


You smile and kiss her, ignoring the angry hiss of the prat on the seat across the limo. Your hands wander, stroking her hair, her back, her hip and leg.

“Oh no you don’t!” Drevor snaps and hauls you off Traywen.


“Go fuck a groupie, Stone. You’re a has-been anyway, you say. You’re rather proud of the way you slip into the younger man’s shoes.


Traywen giggles and nibbles on one of your earlobes. “You tell him, Tiger.” You shrug Drevor off and turn back to kissing the beautiful starlet.

“I said you are not having my woman!” Drevor growls and bangs on the limo partition three times. The limo screeches to a halt, throwing Traywen into your lap. The two of you collapse in giggles. “Right, Bieber, I want to settle this properly, like men.” Drevor says and gets out of the car.

You look at Traywen. Her eyes are alight with excitement and she almost pushes you out of the limo. “I’ve never had two men fight over me before.”
You fall onto the other seat and Traywen scrambles out. “Come on Justin, if you want me, you’ll have to fight for me.”

You are in the middle of the promenade. All around the limo, curious people are gathering. One or two older women point at Drevor and whisper excitedly. When Traywen emerges, several young guys call out for her to look at them or give them a kiss. She just waves.


The screaming starts as you step out of the limo. “JUSTIN! Over here, look at me! I love you Justin!” Several girls faint and a couple more jump up and down.


Drevor stands there arms folded. “Come on, ickle baby boy. Prove you are a man.”


“What do you want, Drivel?” you ask, standing with one hip cocked. “You’ll never lay a finger on me, coz you’re too old.” Drevor roars and rushes at you. You dance nimbly aside and smile at the swift reactions of this new you. “What’s wrong old man?” you ask, laying one hand on his shoulder and spinning him off into the open limo. Several people laugh. There is a large crowd by now and amongst them you can see the huge lenses of the paparazzi, all flashing away at the action. Turning, you smile and pose for them. Flashbulbs go off all around you and you change to a different pose.

Drevor has clambered out of the limo and is snorting and puffing like a bull. Pulling your jacket off to expose your toned body, you wave it like a matador at Drevor. “Come on then. Hey! Toro! Ole!”


“Don’t you mock me, you half baked, pimple faced pop nobody!” Drevor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flick knife, popping it up to show a shining, eight-inch blade.

You laugh, bravado overcoming the fear that rose in your throat like bile at the sight of the steel. “Is that why you think you’re a man, Drevor?” You sneer. “I bet you have size issues.” He paces towards you, death in his eyes and blade held point out.


“He does you know… have size issues, I mean. His dick is the smallest I have ever seen!” Traywen confides loudly to the crowd.


Several people laugh and Drevor’s head whips round to stare at her. “You bitch. Just for that I am never going to go south on you ever again.”


You can see a reporter scribbling notes of the conversation. An idea occurs to you. I can become the hero of this if I’m careful, you think. Taking advantage of the other man’s distraction, you circle around him and grab for the knife, one arm wrapping around his throat. ”Come on now, old timer. Drop the knife so that no one gets hurt, alright?”


“Yeah, I’ll drop it… in your body!” Drevor puts one hand on your arm around his throat and folds forward, throwing you down to the ground in front of him.

Landing with an “oof”, you lie on the ground and watch as the blade heads down for your chest. Time slows and even as several people rush forward and you attempt to get up again, Drevor plunges the flick knife into your chest, sliding it expertly between your ribs. As the pain and blood erupt with equal measure out of your mouth,

Drevor’s eyes flicker from blue to green to brown and back to blue. “I win, I always win.” Dr. Skin’s voice whispers out of Drevor’s face, before he pushes the blade deeper and you feel your heart burst.

Why did I go to him? You wonder as everything fades to black.


THE END.