Tuesday, 29 June 2010

Blood and Stars - Episode 2

Blood and Stars – Episode 2

The Inking

The sun's first light tore through the inky blue night. An amber glow edged into the room, I sat back on my haunches and watch the sunlight play in the beads of sweat on my hands. I had been working all night on Sherri. Death was an improvement really, she was the sort of girl my father would have described as homely, which is a polite way of saying that Sherri wasn't much to look at.

Now, adorned with delicate patterns she was beautiful. The advantage of using a corpse as a canvas is that it doesn't make as much mess as a live one. Although the artistic integrity of scar tissue should not be entirely dismissed. I eyed my labours critically, just black ink for this piece, the additional pain caused by using coloured inks would be unnoticed by a corpse therefore the arousal and thrill factors almost zero. The whole body twitching and muffled screaming always made me feel good, even thinking about it now caused a stirring in my loins.

As the dawn crossed the sand of the beach below my condo the appeal of an early morning swim grew. The inking of Sherri could wait for a while, she wasn't going anywhere without me. I put the used scalpel blades in a sharps bin and cleaned the scalpel handles with alcohol wipes before replacing them in their pockets in my kill kit. All present and correct, clean and tidy, I rolled up my kill kit and tied the canvas webbing strap in a neat bow. I took it to the bedroom and put it in the safe in my wardrobe, I spun the combination lock to secure it, one accidental discovery was quite enough.

I pulled off my shirt and threw it in the open laundry hamper, my trousers and briefs followed and I strode out of the sliding doors from my bedroom onto the deck. Not for the first time I was grateful for my condo's remoteness. I stretched in the cool dampness of the morning, then descended the steps and ran across the beach into the surf. The icy salt tang of the water made my skin tingle and nerves sing, I dove into an oncoming wave and swam submerged for several yards. As my head broke the surface I exhaled, water sprayed from my lips. I made for the shore with a slow easy crawl, I knew that a lot of work still lay ahead and time was against me. All the time I was dealing with Sherri was time I wasn't doing His bidding.

Shivering a little in the gentle breeze rolling across the sands I ran back to my condo and straight to the bathroom. A good hot shower would warm me and I would be ready to work again. I relished the hot jet of water battering my skin, the heat and pressure pleasurable pain. I pulled myself out of reverie, soaped my body and rinsed, no time to wallow in warm water either. I shut off the water, opened the door of the shower cubicle and pulled a towel towards me. A brisk towelling and I was ready to ink but my growling stomach was insistent about being fed first.

In the kitchen I refreshed the percolator and whilst the coffee brewed I fried thick bacon steaks and eggs in a little oil which I ate straight from the pan. I poured a large mug of coffee and took this to Sherri, collecting my art box from the sideboard as I passed. Setting the coffee down on the floor, I knelt and opened the box.

On first glance my art box looked like any other, possibly containing tubes of oil paint or pastels for instance. My box held thin brittle sticks of high quality willow charcoal but with a secret, the charcoal sticks lay in a removable wooden tray which covered a space beneath. In this space were several sharp points, rather like darts but without the plastic flights. Also therein were two small spirit burners, a disposable lighter and a miniature pestle and mortar. I realised I had forgotten to bring a jug of cold water in from the kitchen so I went to collect this.

On my return I laid out my tools and then broke of a small piece of a charcoal stick and dropped it into the pestle and mortar. I crushed it gently to a fine powder and added enough water to make the powder into a thin paste. Lighting one of the spirit burners I picked up one of the points and put the tip into the flame. Once this was red hot I dipped it into the black pigment and then applied the point to Sherri's skin. I made a series of dots following the soft scored outlines I had made with the scalpel blades. I repeated the heating, dipping and pricking process many times before I had completed inking Sherri's back. It was a painstaking and laborious process but I knew that the end product would make all this attention worthwhile.

The sun had reach its zenith when I finished the last tendril wrapping round Sherri's left foot and thus completed art work covering the back side of her corpse. Time now for a rest from my labour, some lunch and another swim before flipping the corpse over and turning my attention to the front. I stepped out on to the deck and drank in the midday heat.

(c) Lexx Clarke 2010

Tuesday, 22 June 2010

Blood and Stars - Episode 1 – My first mistake

I'm not really sure what I was hoping to achieve, or why it was ever a good idea but now illuminated by the cold hard light of a moonbeam and with blood dripping off the knife in my hand I had more questions than answers. I fought to bring my ragged breathing under control, the sweat now cooling on my forehead, the pounding of my heart sounding loud in the room.

I let go of the knife, it clattered onto the floor, emphasising the quiet. I looked down to the knife, I had hoped it would land with the point buried into the wooden floor with the handle left to quiver.

My legs gave way, I landed on my side face to face with the corpse that had once been Sherri Greenlowe. Her eyes bored into me, unblinking and glassy stare matched with her mouth twisted in ugly terror. Her last moments alive etched themselves on my mind, her cries of protest and questioning still rang in my ears. This was supposed to be the end of it but something told me it was only the beginning and my world was going to take a distinct turn for the worse.

I thought it probable He would not be pleased with this result although in defence of my actions He'd not made any requests for Sherri to be brought to him. Still I should have at least asked Him I suppose, but then I hadn't
planned on killing Sherri, it just happened y'know? Mental note to self though, don't leave your kill kit where any casual acquaintance might come across it, seemingly leads to a large amount of upset, strings of awkward questions and, of course, someone getting killed.

I needed a drink, a very large drink. I stood up, moved to the kitchen and took vodka from the freezer and cranberry juice from the refrigerator. The hot penny smell was driven from my mouth and nostrils by the fire of Polish spirit. My killing schedule was all out of whack now and I was supposed to be much calmer at this point of proceedings. Fuck I hate it when people come by unannounced, I need time to prepare for being around real people, I had tried to explain this to Sherri on several occasions when she had hinted at an impromptu appearance. She had only laughed and pushed my shoulder in that annoying way people do when they think you're just messing with their heads and being deliberately provocative. In truth this action merely serves in me wanting to put my fist through that person's face.

Half of the drink now consumed my breathing and heart-rate had returned to normal. My mind was still racing however, mainly with things like; there's a fucking dead woman lying on my hardwood floor, how I am I going to get rid of her body? I looked over at Sherri's cooling corpse, I noticed with some irritation that pools of blood were forming on my European oak floor, typical; even in death she was causing problems. I realised too that disposing of her body and getting blood out of a wooden floor were insignificant given that I had to tell Him that I'd killed out of bounds, fuck it, He would be seriously pissed when I told him but He'd get over it.

Telling Him, well no time like the present I suppose, the sooner I feel the burn of His wrath the sooner I can be forgiven for straying. I slid down the wall and landed with a soft thump, legs akimbo. I put my drink down beside me and pulled my phone from my trouser pocket. Deep breath, gulp of drink – time to dial, the hounds of fate baying in the distance. The call was answered after one ring, the silence heavy in my ear.


The gravel-strewn voice tumbled into my ear and rattled my brain.

Sir, I...”

You fucked up didn't you?”

I paused, “Yes”

He sighed, “Should I know the person?”

No, she was an ex-girlfriend, it wasn't planned Sir”

I had picked up the knife and had begun doodling on the wooden floor with its point.

I should fucking well hope not indeed!”

Sherri's right hand was within reach, clamping the phone to my ear with my shoulder I pulled it closer, wedging her forearm under my thigh so her hand was held upright between the tops of my thighs.

Do...do you want her anyway?”

He pondered this for a few seconds, I started slicing through the top joint of her thumb, a stylised eight pointed star I thought would look good.

Yes, I think I can find a use for her, decorate her for me”

A grin spread across my face, “I've already started Sir, she will look like the night sky”

A click and the line went dead. I stopped slicing and ended the call on my phone. I poured the last of my drink down my throat. I went to the kitchen for a refill and then brought my kill kit to Sherri's side. It was time to work.

Monday, 21 June 2010

Poetry Chunter

Today's post is to share some of my poetry, haiku and senryu. Both forms are essentially the same i.e. 5 - 7 - 5 syllables but the content is what distinguish them - haiku are about nature and the seasons, senryu are about politics, satire or more *ahem* sensual themes.


Pace to pace to stare
at the window waiting - stop
her cold hands wrung raw


let the tears flow free
raw pain washed in hot salt tracks
release to grief shared


moonlit glint of steel
the warrior makes his mark
life silently leaves


niveous blanket
wraps green pine tree branch
scintillates starlight


finger traces chest
lips move to kiss sweet washboard
he loves to work out


whisper soft touches
truth or dare willing recruit
white cotton removed


deceit unravelled
torn fabric of lies hangs limp
smug - I told her so

(c) Lexx Clarke 2010

Sunday, 20 June 2010

Some words of warning

Those of you who have been kind enough to visit my blog already will know that I created it as a place to post things that I have written. Some of you have even been kind enough to read my work and offer a critique. For those of you that haven't read anything I've written I think it's only fair to give you fair warning about what I write.

I write fiction with violent characters and themes, they don't pull any punches and will swear...a lot. What I write is not for the faint of heart, there will be guns, knives, sex and violence. I also try and show some level of humanity in people that would appear to have none, some chink of the real person battered and bruised, lost and hidden. I'm not going to give schmaltzy empty endings though because too often life is not like that.

I'm aware that there will be those who will be mightily confused by the content of my writing and the person that you have come to know. I actually am as easy going and fluffy as you think I am but my inspiration comes from without, not within. Remember though, it's fiction!

The reverse is true of my haiku and senryu, all that does come from within, from my soul and the part which is so often hidden for fear or being crushed. It is an unremitting exposition of me.

So please, read and enjoy, comments are always most welcome but don't say I didn't warn you :o)

Saturday, 19 June 2010


So I finally caved and set up a blog. There are many reasons why it's taken me this long to start my journey into the world of blogging. The main reason is that I really didn't think I'd ever have something to say that I'd want to share with the world - then again I thought the same about Twitter and look what happened there!

I also realised that if I want to get anywhere with my writing I needed somewhere of my own to 'publish' it, this has become even more important since I discovered Flash Fiction and Serial Flash, it's all very well creating great little pieces of fiction but if no-one really ever reads them somehow it becomes a questionable use of time.

Here my blog begins....