#draft story

...following Iron Man II, police and city officials decide to get Tony Stark for something, anything, so they sue him for public littering and the judge gives him three months of public works, in the form of helping a disprivileged kid from Queens to get to school, doctor’s appointments and therapy and back to the group home, where he had been placed after the death of his last living relative (and since the wife of said relative is too ill to take care of the kid). He is told that each failure to show up will be a strike on his record (and basis for other punishment) and will also reflect on the child’s school results, as the kid is unable to walk to school by himself, having been injured by the same muggers who had killed his uncle.

At first Tony ignores the ruling, but as he is half hour late and finds the boy still waiting for him, he drives him across the city in his car, instead of taking public transport, as he has been instructed to.

The kid is in honest awe of him and very patient with Tony’s antics, while at the same time rather smart and very bookish, always trying to do his homework on time, even when Tony makes them late due to not having paid attention...

And then one day the kid is waiting after school and he winces when he puts on his seatbelt and it turns out he is bruised all over because some older boys are picking on him and he says he can’t defend himself. Tony even tries to teach him some moves, but the boy seems to be afraid of hitting anyone... says he doesn’t know how hard he can hit and that he doesn’t want to hurt anyone and seems to be very serious about it.

The cigarette smoke filled my lungs with the familiar morning kick. The mid-morning sun already belted against the top of my head. The peak of summer had come in full force. Sweat dripped off my back as I slowly inhaled my next draw of smoke. In the distance I heard the soft thudding of drums. The small beating echo irritated me. My muscles tensed at the thought of taking longer to get to work today. The protests were scheduled to take over most of the city centre. The thought of the additional hour drive to avoid the traffic scrunched frustration across my brow. Whistles carried across the breeze and in through my balcony window. The scrabbling of noise made the megaphone voices mumble to an indistinguishable mess of voices. I tapped out the butt and returned inside my apartment to shower and get ready for the long day of entering data for my research department.

I dashed out of the shower to chase my ringing phone. My boss’s name shone on the screen. I audible sighed the moment I spotted the name. I answered knowing already that work was cancelled. The increasing bellowing in the distance confirmed that the protesting had swollen. I glanced out the window. Colourful flare smoke filled the air around the city centre. The alternating beats shivered my apartment windows. The delayed reverberations signalled the protest spreading and converting into multiple events. I scowled as I hung up the phone. I was still dripping onto the floorboards. The additional mess to clean did little to soothe my mood. A full day of pay had been lost just from some people who were unhappy with the government.

For a few hours I paced around the apartment in search of something to entertain me for the day. My usual overload of work had been left in the office waiting for me to return. The small DVD collection titles bored me the moment I glanced upon them. I had watch each too many times for it to consume my day. I clicked on the remote, stirring the television to life. Plonking on the couch with my phone became my option to dull myself from the boredom. Sitting around seemed reasonable with the aim of waiting for hunger to kick in so I can be distracted with a menial meal. The music throbbed and rose outside. A celebration had climbed out of the protests to consume every sensation around me.

A ricocheting of howls screeched in the through the balcony door. I squinted at the noise, confused by the strange change from regular beat. The music had died off instantly. The colour had stopped rising into the air. I slide out a cigarette, lit it and stepped out onto the balcony. The sun had disappeared behind the edge of my building, casting a soothing shadow over my apartment. A slither of smoked snaked its way between the CBD buildings. Its thin black trail spread out into the sky as the celebrations fizzled. The howling bellowed again. The cries angrily hissed at an enemy I couldn’t see. I shrugged, flicked the last of my ash into the tray and stepped back inside to consume myself with the monotonous television viewing.

The plate of pasta rested precariously on my lap. I dug into it with the fork in one hand while scrolling through my new feeds on my phone. I chewed slowly on the cold dish, locked onto the images of protesters choking and bleeding as the riot police marched through the city streets. The smoke on the city sky line thickened into a black haze smothering the buildings in an ugly mess. The screaming had had switched to roars that raged over the sirens. Celebratory flares were switched for tear gas. The television streamed updates of violence against the government by rebels who are currently storming the streets. I shake my head at the nonsense in the city. The double of work sitting ready for me tomorrow infuriated me. These people taking over the street have blocked me from my job and the responsibilities I have for the wider community. I grumbled at the growing noise from the distance, the distraction will no doubt destroy my night’s sleep.

An explosion shook the entire city. The glasses in my apartment rattled in the cupboards. I waited for the tremors to stop before I head to the balcony to see what has happened. A fiery glow flickered out from one end of the city centre. The stench of rubber wafted across the horizon to smother the city in fumes. I glanced over my shoulder back into the apartment. Everything is still attached to the walls. My plate of half eaten pasta remained on the coffee table where I left it hours before. The television is trapped in rolling coverage of the coup they claimed was rising throughout the country. I dropped to the floor at the bang of another explosion blasting through the city. I felt the shock waves thrust through my chest. The human noises were lost completely to the sounds of machines and fires.

Hours had passed since the first of the explosion. Each new belting of sound caused only slight flinches now. My tired eyes stared over the city centre. Buildings were missing glass and bricks, their shells crumbled off as the fighting escalated. A long stick of ash hanged off the neglected cigarette in my fingers. A piercing shriek menaced in the distance. I knew what the noise was. The end was coming in. The ominous hissing was forecast in the news. The government was stepping in. A shadow in the sky caught my attention. I pressed out the cigarette butt and took in a last breath of stale air.

‘I’m sorry to tell you like this but I thought you needed to know. I’ve been sleeping with your husband for the past few years. I’m sorry. M.’

The note was left on my windshield. I looked around and there was no one near me when I got to my car. I had left it the back of the supermarket in my usual spot so they could have been staking me out. Disbelief took me first. I shook my head at the note, shoved it in my bag and ignored it until I got home and started cooking. The niggling in the back of my mind was slow at first, it tickled at my curiosity. Gently picking away until a full stretch of space sliced open for it to charge through my thoughts. It had taken over. How could he? My mind ran on its own accord. After all these years. After all I’ve given up so I could be at home with the kids. My career on hold so he could pursue his. I was the bread winner. My job was fantastic but of course I said I’d give it up to be a mum. After all that he cheats on me!

I broke away from the thoughts to tend to the water boiling over the edge of the pot. The burn on my skin as I mopped up the mess didn’t register as it scorned my skin. I forced my focus down onto any small task I could find in the kitchen, anything that could distract me for long enough that my breath could return to normal. He cheated, my thoughts intruded again. Frustration bounced through me, turning in my gut and tensing randomly at my muscles. I switched the stove off in defeat, I knew I can’t continue my daily tasks after all that’s happened. Nothing would be the same after knowing what he had been doing.

My hands shook as I read the letter again. My heart beat in my throat and my stomach swirled to the point of vomiting onto the carpet. Every time I thought I had my body under control the shakes made me crumble back onto the couch. He was due home any minute now. I stared at the door, waiting for that click, pressing myself to hold strong for the confrontation. I wouldn’t let him get away with this betrayal.

The door clicked and I flew into action. He didn’t know what was being fired at him. His face dropped, mouth sitting wide open in a feeble attempt to interject and explain what he had done. I waved the note in front of his face before reading it in a screeching voice.

‘Who’s M? How could you do this to our family? What’s wrong with you? Why am I not enough?’

I screamed. I bellowed. I bawled. Everything I had in my system rocketed out of me. He tried to defend himself. He denied what the note says. He said he didn’t know who M was and perhaps they have the wrong person. He shouted back that he was actually working late and can prove it. His body was shaking in anger. His initial shock had faded completely into fuming self-defence. I didn’t care. He had cheated. He had to go so I could rebuild this family. I can be what our children need without him.

‘Get out! Just get out! Pack your bags and get the hell out of my house!’

He threw his hands up, surrendering to the fact that he would not be sleeping at home that night. My shoulders slumped once the door slammed shut with him on the other side. A relief washed over me, bringing with it a dreamy exhaustion. I knew there was work still to come but for one night I felt strong. The cheater is gone, I kept repeating to myself. Sudden hunger grumbled me back to normality. I continued my night, ready for a solid sleep and start to a new life.

The first week without him was strange. The house felt quieter, my body seemed hollow as if something had been scooped out to leave just air whispering about inside me. I went about my days as normally as possible. I dropped the kids off at school, telling them with a calm face despite wanting to leap out of my own skin, that their dad is going away for a while and that I loved them. My fingers ached from scrubbing every surface around the house. Each time a thought of him creeped to the front of my mind I found something else to clean. A permanent stench of bleach filled my nostrils. I was dizzy, but at least distracted from reality.

Pulling into the supermarket carpark was automatic. Nothing tweaked in me about what happened the week before. I grabbed the shopping bags and locked the car before I saw them. A woman and a teen stared at me, mumbling to themselves. The woman pointed at me. I froze on the spot. My heart skipped several beats. My hand wrapped so hard onto my keys that the metal threatened to pierce my skin. The teen took a quick glance at me and nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground. Oh god, it’s his kid. That’s M and his kid. It’s real. It can’t be this real. How could he keep all this from me?

The woman shoved the teen. His shoulders were drooped down and eyes at the bitumen. The woman stalked behind him, just within hearing distance at all times. I shot my eyes around to take in all of this kid. He was completely strange to me. I searched for my husband’s features but there was nothing there, nothing I could see to confirm that I had been cheated on in a whole new way.

‘Excuse me ma’am. Um. I’m. Um. I’m sorry for leaving that note on your window. It was just a prank. I’m sorry if it hurt you in anyway.’

‘I’m sorry about what my son has done. The school received a few angry calls from other people who had the same note left on the window. Something about a cheating husband. Trust me. He won’t be doing that sort of thing again.’

Reverend John clears his throat to bring the small council to attention. The three other men mumble themselves into an impatient silence. Reverend Simon’s deep wrinkled face sits into his usual scowl as if ready to pounce into a century old lashing of the Old Testament.

‘Thank you for meeting today on such short notice,’ Reverend John begins. The bishop leans in diplomatically wanting to absorb every opinion of the men who will soon be voting on his potential promotion. ‘You are all aware of why we have gathered today.’

‘Bloody ridiculous,’ Reverend Simon hisses. The abrasion in his voice makes the young Reverend Peter flinch upright and straighten his frock. His old teacher still commanded fear through him. ‘How could they interfere with our religious freedoms like that.’

‘I can tell this is going to be a very difficult time for us,’ Reverend John continues, ‘so I thought it best we some to a decision on our next steps straight away before.’ Reverend John scrapes his chair as he positions to jot notes. His sudden acting role as chair conflicts with his automatic responses as long serving secretary. He rubs on his beard assuming someone will jump in and tell him what he needs to know.

‘I think you all know what I think we should do,’ Reverend Simon fills the void. ‘Back in my day this sort of thing would never have come to a head. We would have smacked it out of them before it had to rise in a swirl like it has.’

‘I don’t think punishment is an appropriate response these days,’ Reverend Peter’s voice crackles as he speaks. ‘We could lobby a bit further with the local MP. He was very receptive of us in the last meetings.’

‘Stupid boy! That hasn’t worked.’ Reverend Peter shrinks away from the crushing rejection in his mentor’s voice. ‘That will not get us anywhere. He only likes talking to us because if he refuses he will lose the thousands we launder into his campaign funds. We need to go straight through the schools and use the parents. Start with a leaflet and then pump the issue through the newsletters until our flock are attacking the MPs for us.’

Reverend John’s pen scratches noisily on his paper while Reverend Simon murmurs through his routine. The command in his voice carries weight behind the rather simple words. The plan seems to spill over his page and shove doubt to the front of his mind at the thought of calling this meeting in the first place.

‘You are all making excellent points,’ the bishop states calmly. ‘These are all really good points. I’m sure if we work together we will soon have people seeing the reason behind our arguments. Our concern, I believe, are indeed concerns of the nation.’

‘Quit it already Richard. You’ve got our votes.’ Reverend Simon snaps. ‘The sooner the better. Can shove you out for a more disciplined leader. Just like when I first entered the school. Those were the days. Boys were boys and men were God fearing. We had the highest turnouts in the district. The funds were rolling in to build a new glorious church and then the politicians screwed it all up.’

‘I absolutely understand your position,’ the bishop calmly answers. He rests comfortably on his chair, making measured nods to show his appreciation.

Reverend Peter shuffles himself into a semi-confident pose. His face scrunches together to exude as much determination as he can muster.

‘Is this all really necessary?’ he asks. ‘I mean it’s not that bigger deal and this all seems like a big step to take for something that wouldn’t really affect us in the future. I mean, it’s only a bake sale.’

Reverend Simon falls back into a growling laughter. His echoing cackle bounce of the stone walls menacingly.

‘Just a bake sale?’ He grumbles. ‘Just a bake sale? I thought I taught you better than that.’

Reverend John shuffles himself upright, he rests in patient contemplating.

‘We need to maintain control of the bake sales,’ the bishop calmly informs the room. Reverend Simon nods knowingly, his lips pursed. ‘If the school keeps all the money then we won’t be able to flush our foreign cash and get it into a slush accounts undetected.’

‘What?’ Reverend Peter gapes. ‘That’s real?’

21st April 1999

I saw her today for the first time. I knew immediately that she is the one. I have never been so immediately attracted to someone. There was a purity on her face that shone off her soft cheeks. She was all alone in her small house, occasionally she would bend down to pat one of her three cats. There was a ginger, and two tabbies, all wanting her attention as she worked away in the tiny kitchen.

She was standing by her kitchen sink when she first caught my eye. I was just passing by on the footpath. Her blinds were wide open with her watching vaguely out into the world while mixing together some cake batter. I’m certain she didn’t spot me. She was lost in a dream world of her own. As soon as I knew she was the one for me I ducked behind the large tree trunk that was in her front yard. There was no one else around at that time of day so I knew I could get the extra fleeting look.

Her face has these small freckles on her pale flesh. The cute spots poke out on her nose even though it looks like she barely steps out into the sun. Her garden is over grown. The long strands of lawn match the light brown colour of her hair. Her clothes hang loosely from her. I haven’t seen anything like her top before. I’m sure that she would have made it for herself with the sewing machine sitting on the dining table behind the kitchen.

She is absolutely incredible. I could watch her all day.

 27th April 1999

I finally had a chance to see her again. I could barely contain myself all week. There were so many times I just wanted to sneak over, even if it’s just for a brief glance through the window again. I’m glad I waited though. This evening it was beautiful. I was able to find a spot in the back corner of her garden. There was quite a few thick shrubs that I could rest behind as I watched her go about making and eating her dinner.

When she disappeared away from the down the hall and out of my sight I had a chance to learn her name. The letters in the post box were all addressed to Miss Karen Richards. She receives a single person payment from the government which would explain why she is able to hang out at home all day.

She was quite crafty with her basic pasta dinner. She pulled out so many different spices and herbs from small bottles. I’m sure it tasted delicious.

In the five hours I watched on this evening no one came to her house. She never even looked at a cell phone. Who knows, she might not even have one. Happy to live off the grid, just like me. It’s easier this way than having others constantly seeing your information.

She seemed so happy just being by herself and with her cats. I left only once she sent to bed. I can’t believe I’ve finally found the one for me.

 15th May 1999

After a few weeks of planning I was finally set up to spend some quality time with Karen. With almost absolute certainty she was at home. I had a blanket to keep me warm as things went into the evening. I managed to get there before lunch so I made sure to have a few snacks and thermos so I could eat with Karen. It was all perfect our first full date together but it was cut short.

I didn’t seem them coming from my spot in the garden. There was nothing I could do. There were too many of them. I could only watch as they charged in and took Karen from me. The three men were dressed in all black with rubber gloves and masks walked straight in the front door. There was no one else around. No lights on in the neighbourhood. I never thought Karen would be snatched away so quickly.

They had Karen by the throat before she could let out a scream. The plastic sheet was rolled on the floor by one of the men while the other two pinned her down and slit her wrists. There was so much blood in her body. I couldn’t believe how much came out of her.

The cats watched on from the kitchen bench. They looked bored. I was frozen. The men knew exactly what they were doing.

The men threw cloth down to stop the blood pouring off the edge of the plastic. As soon as she stopped twitching they rolled her up in the plastic and carried her straight out to their van. They were gone before I could snap myself out of it and come home to write this. How could they just her away from me?

 21st May 1999

I stayed clear of Karen’s home for a few days just to be sure. My heart races every time I think about her and then I feel it shatter when I remember that she’s gone. Just like that. There was nothing I could do. I was useless in protecting the one that I had found for myself.

I just got back from her house. Nothing has changed inside. It looks like Karen is still there. There might be a bit more dust around the place and the cats seemed happy ducking in and out the cat flap to catch their dinner. Two of them were snuggling together on the couch when I had the courage to sneak up closer to the window and see inside.

There was no marks left by the men that took my Karen. No drop of blood on the carpet. Not even a slither of plastic from the sheet they took her away in. They knew what they were doing. They must have been watching her as well.

I’m stuck with a dilemma now. There’s no missing person report. It doesn’t even seem like Karen had family to check up on her. That’s part of the reason I liked her. No one knows what happened to her but me. I could report them but that would just add my name to a police record and that’s something I definitely don’t want.

I crave some form of revenge. I want Karen back but if I can’t get that I want revenge. I want them to bleed if I ever knew who they were. I couldn’t identify them from where I was.

I feel stuck. Alone and stuck. All my plans have been ruined and just when I thought I finally found the one for me.

 1st June 1999

I’ve taken a few weeks of solitude and I think I should take steps to move on. I had only known Karen for a few brief weeks and I’m certain that I was caught up in the rush of the moment. There has to be another one out there for me.

I’ve decided that I will return to my routines and wait patiently. Another Karen will appear. I pray that it will happen in just the same easy way when I’m out walking on one of my paths and taking in my observations. I have considered combining those notes with these personal ones so that I can spend longer out in the field and can remove what’s on my mind and can focus better on the task at hand.

That might have to wait until I find the next one for me though. I hadn’t experienced these thoughts before I met Karen and they’re kind of rare now she’s gone. The focus for the task of finding the one seems to let me concentrate more which is good while I’m on the hunt. I know I will find someone to replace what I thought Karen would be. I’m sure I will find that first person for me, the first one that I will kill.

 3rd October 2003.

Menehune Twins – “Day at the Beach”

  I’ve never done this before, my friends (no, not that), but I need your help/opinion. I have drafted a children’s story to be read by parents to kids age 6 and under as a fun, exotic adventure to amuse the little ankle bitters and maybe share interesting facts and stories about a mix between an ancient Hawaiian legend and a Road Runner cartoon. I would compare this story to the popular…

Her body lapped up against the river bank. Her skin glistened white, devoid of any living warmth or glow. Her hair dropped lower and lower in the water with each grip of mud onto the strands. A dark mark surrounded her throat. I dragged on the last of my cigarette and flicked the butt out into the water. ‘You done?’ I hissed at the federal investigators. They already took hours to get there from the city. ‘Her folks won’t be too happy knowing Sonia has been bobbing out here just so you can set up a photo shoot.’ I grew even more impatient and slid out another smoke from my top pocket. It sparked alight in a familiar sizzle. ‘Do you mind not doing that here,’ Kevin, the lead investigator, grumbled at me. ‘You’re contaminating our scene.’ ‘What scene?’ I laughed back. ‘She obviously didn’t die here. Any blind bastard can see that.’ ‘Fucking country cops,’ Kevin whispers to his colleague. I spun around, pressing my heels deep in the mud to stain the ground with my mark, knowing it will be erased by the bush overnight. The land is always changing out here, unlike the people. If it wasn’t the last resort I would have fucked off from this piss stain of a town years ago. Gum trees rose out around us by the river. The thick, ancient limbs held onto the canopies above that blocked the sun from beating down on us. Behind me the dirt road called my attention. My wagon sat on the edge of the road, leaving the harder terrain for the investigators’ van to sit closest to the body. ‘Right, do you even need me here? I’ve got shit to do,’ I stated. I pulled on my belt to signal the importance of my role elsewhere than at the river’s edge. ‘Probably,’ Kevin answered. ‘We need someone to control the media if they rock up.’ ‘That media!’ I belched. ‘There’s no fucking media around here. They wouldn’t even know how to get here. We only knew about it because it’s Old Man Jerry’s road to his daily fish.’ The thought of Jerry blissful in retirement filled me with envy. My jaw tensed knowing I’ll be stuck out here for another decade before I can spend my mornings sitting by the river, hoping to snag some dinner. ‘I’m not waiting around. If you need anything radio me.’ I jumped into my car before they could voice their protest. The wagon rumbled to life. The rusted thing was in need of desperate replacement but the state office knew there was no point. There was only a few hundred people here. I barely used the vehicles unless informed of a firearms violation out on a farm. I bashed the car over the bush, trampling the scrubs and bark to turn the vehicle back down the way we came in. I accelerated, gleefully flicking dirt against the back of the van as I took off. Shadows covered the path back to the main road. Slices of light flashed randomly in my eyes as I sped across the dirt. I flicked my dying smoke out the window and mumbled through lighting the next one. A tree stood in my path. The base held sturdy into the earth. I shrugged and steered the wagon to the left, barely avoiding the tree. I inhaled deep on the smoke, sucking in its life shortening nutrients. I parked the wagon on the main and only road in town. The police station was across the road. The failing brick building and crumbling roof resembled more of a house than an official place of police matters. So much so I lived there on a single bed in the back room. I ignored my duties in there to stomp into the pub next the van. The slid inside through the thin door and thick walls to the comforting ash and polished wood air of the front bar. The walls blocked any feeling of the outside world to hold a constant chill in the room. ‘Early start for you Sarge?’ Micky greeted me. He dropped the newspaper on the end of the bar and stood in front ready to serve me. ‘Yep. I’ve been chaperoning those city blokes all day,’ I said. I adjusted my crumpled uniform and radio to sit up on stool. ‘Pint me.’ ‘No worries.’ Micky nodded as he headed to the tap to pour my stout. ‘Better not let those blokes catch you in uniform here,’ Micky teased. ‘Might finally get you in some trouble.’ ‘If only,’ I smirked. ‘So it’s true then?’ Micky jumped straight to the gossip. His eyes widened with hope of fresh news, just a little something to keep his tavern full for the next few months. ‘It’s the Collins’ daughter?’ ‘Yep. Dead. Why the hell does this have to happen to me?’ I moaned. ‘This is supposed to be a quiet place.’