Stacy Archives

September 11, 2005

Stacy: Trapped

"Give it back!" she screamed. Had been screaming forever. Would scream until she died.

A hollow laugh floated down the corridor, she turned swiftly towards the noise, but it was gone. She ran blindly down the halls, turning sometimes left, sometimes right.

Her hands were ragged and bloody from clawing at doors that would not open, windows that would not break. Her clothing was stained with her own filth, falling off her increasingly gaunt body.

Trapped in her own mind, she screamed endlessly at a mocking voice she could not find. Outside, the sun shone, birds sang, the world turned.

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September 12, 2005

Stacy: Fortress

"This is not a drill, if you haven't already, take......"

The radio buzzed into silence, along with everything else as the grid went down. There was a distant chuff as generator power kicked in, bringing up emergency lights and environmentals. Faint slamming sounds came to us in the unnatural stillness as the metal shutters slid shut, and then an even fainter buzzing as the perimeter fence came online.

Thad came into the control center as I completed the sensor sweep. I ruffled his nine year old head and smiled reassuringly at him. "No school today, eh, mom?" he piped cheerfully.

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September 13, 2005

Stacy: Unexpected

"Psst..."

The girl turned to see an ancient man in a battered top hat sitting next to the Tilt-a-Whirl. She clutched her doll tighter and inched forward.

"Ain't gonna hurt you," he wheezed.

Still she hesitated. The old man chuckled, then moved much quicker than he ought, touched her forehead with a single finger. She blinked and the world rippled. She gasped as a fairy flitted by with a corn dog. A giant strode through the midway, stepping carefully. She turned back to find the old man gone, a wizened gnome in his place.

She screamed until she was 14.

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September 14, 2005

Stacy: Weary Unto Death

The pain in my head grows with each passing day. The physickers say it will eventually have my life. Nothing assuages the ache now...neither the white crystals nor the black tar. Rum still helps me to the sleeplands, but never for very long.

The only thing that makes the pain at all bearable is the needle of the Chinaman. I rather fancy I look like a disreputable sailing man with all this ink on my body, but the respite from pain is more than worth the disfigurement, and a gentlemen never is without shirtsleeves.

It will be over soon enough.

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September 15, 2005

Stacy: Flameout

Ingredients...sugar, anise, lard...millet? What the fuck is millet? Who puts lard in a frigging breakfast cereal? Anise is fucking poison, isn't it? Christ, these R&D boys are trying to get me fired, that's what it is. They're still pissed over that whole Exploding Cheese thing, I know it.

Alright, goddammit, concentrate, you can do this.

"It's a flavorful mix of the best things in nature, good tasting and good for you!"

Christ, that sucks. What the fuck am I doing? No one would buy this shit without actual hundred dollar bills included in the box. Screw this shit, I quit.

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September 19, 2005

Stacy: A Slight Revision

"...and shall hang by the neck until dead, dead, dead."

"This is a sorry end," thought Calico Jack Rackham as he was led from the courtroom and out into the sweltering Jamaican sun. He wondered where Anne and that twat Mary had gotten to after their arrest, hoped they’d managed to escape.

As the noose was fitted around his neck, Jack saw a flash of white on the edge of the crowd. Anne Bonney herself, disguised in stolen finery...and pointing a pistol at his heart. "I love you," she mouthed, and pulled the trigger.

"That's me bonny lass," whispered Jack.

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September 20, 2005

Stacy: Do Me A Favor

"I'm sorry," he said, without feeling.

She fought against the tears, determined not to let him see her broken, destroyed. She looked at him, really looked at him, as she hadn't done in years. And she saw how he'd subtly taken her free will, her much vaunted independence, turned them into his toys. All she'd done for the past two years was worry about how he viewed her, what he thought of her. With a shiver of near disgust she realized she hadn't had a thought that didn't include him for a very long time.

"Don't come back," she said.

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October 4, 2005

Stacy : Passages

Mother always said, 'Don't run with scissors'. They must’ve taught that in school and she dutifully passed it along, never having tried it.

I jogged along the path, breathing easily. Not many runners this early in the morning, just me and the squirrels.

Ahead the path curved behind a copse of trees, and my heart beat faster. I pulled the scissors out of my pouch and held them angled into the wind. A thin keening noise escaped from the tip as they sliced, ribbons of reality streaming behind me. A quick sidestep and I was through to the other side.

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October 6, 2005

Stacy: Personal Worst

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Yeah, I'm having these real bad stomach pains..."

"Sir, are you shot?"

"Naw, man, it's just my stomach, I think it's something I've eaten..."

"Sir, this is an emergency line..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I gotta emergency...oh god, the pain!"

"Sir, what did you eat?"

"Blue eggs."

"Sir, where did you get blue eggs?"

"Dunno, they came out of the can that way."

"The can...you ate eggs from a can??"

"Yeah, the mini-mart was having this sale, $.99 cents..."

"Sir, stay calm, the ambulance is on it's way... But I’d be prayin’ if I were you."

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October 13, 2005

Stacy: Snapped

Detective Hawkins leaned back on his heels, gasping for breath.

His partner, Smith, peered at him over the body, noisily working on a piece of chewing gum, apparently unaffected by the stench of blood and other bodily effluvia.

Hawkins hated his partner, had since day one. After 8 years on the force, Smith was easily the thing he’d hated most. Hawkins fists clenched as watched Smith idly wind the victim’s intestines around his pencil.

Later, as they led Hawkins away, the beat cops stood over the remains of his partner, shaking their heads. Interesting use for a fire hydrant, that.

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