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New Beginnings...
Topic Started: Oct 27 2007, 02:40 AM (20 Views)
Zack Riley
Unregistered

[size=4]New Beginnings[/size]

Here we are, some place in America, some place nobody but the people that live there can find. The town of Scarville where nothing is normal, nothing is sane, nothing is pleasant nor nothing is joyful. Scarville was founded in 1901, by Mayor Phillips senior. The current mayor is sixty seven year old Bernard Phillips. Who currently has it all, a w***e of a wife, millions of dollars, dozens of fancy sports cars and is Mayor of a big town. Little is known about Scarville only that Phillips is supposed to be top dog.

For forty years, he’s been running the town, obviously, nothing has gone to plan, but nothing is let out of the town, those who enter very rarely leave, either due to power, or due to murder. Its like that safe haven, well that’s what you’re told. Nicely spread out houses, beautiful trees stationed between, blossoming flowers in the distance and miles from any city.

Bernard Phillips: Hello Dear, can you put my dinner in the oven until I get home… no, I won’t be late… don’t you go and see that Jasper Carlson, I’ll have him killed if your going behind my back…Evelyn…Evelyn! Damn it.

The old man was becoming weaker, lonelier and frailer in his days; he’d go home every night to a silent wife, sat in her arm chair smoking a fat one. Inhaling the chemicals and breathing out, she was in her early forties. Obviously only with him for his money, Mayor Bernard was sick of her, as she was him. The seemingly quiet life of the mayor was becoming darker. More devious, the under current of sinister mind frame flowing through his bones, leaking through his skin. Only he knew his own jeopardy, his wife was clueless, hell she was basically brain dead. All the toxins clogging up her blood. Fucked every night by a civil servant, and also the man who was ruining Bernard’s life.

Spike Reynolds: Long time no see, old timer.

Phillips turned round to see a man, wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans, a fedora hat and tattoos winding down his arms. He climbs through the window with a sadistic smirk. His twisted English accent wriggled down Bernard’s spine, he faked a smile through, well I’d say closed teeth, but they were in a cup on the table beside him. He spluttered out a few words which were indistinguishable.

Spike Reynolds: You what mate?

He put his pink teeth back in, he cleared his throat, the tension in the air was obvious, Bernard was scared to death by the Londoner. They’d had a long and grievous past.

Bernard Phillips: What can I do for you Spike?

Spike Reynolds: Well, I want some money really, I’m keeping you safe. Who knows how many more secrets I know about you? Your addiction to gambling online, your frustration below the belt… should I go on?

Bernard Phillips: No, you can stop, but Simon, I can’t keep taking all this money out of my account, people will start asking questions.

Spike Reynolds: First of all, my name is not Simon, it’s Spike, and secondly I don’t care how you get the money just get me the bloody money. You got that mate?

Bernard Phillips: Spike, why are you doing this?

Spike Reynolds: Because I can Bernie, I could you leave you alone and pack up, go home back to London, but I can make your life a misery, and I will.

He dips his spider like hands into his jacket pocket to pull out a lighter, he also pulled out a packet of cigarettes, he put the cylindrical tube into his mouth and lit it. He inhaled the smoke before blowing it all around the room, the pictures of Phillips in the navy looking on in anxiousness.

Bernard Phillips: I tell you what, seeing as though we’ve been friends a while now…

Spike Reynolds: Ha! Friends? We’re not friends Bernie.

Bernard Phillips: alright, we’ve known each other a while now, so I’m going to invite you to the black and white ball, in the town center next week, All the alcohol you want, all the food, cigars everything, on the house, that should be enough to cover my ‘debts’ to you in the next few weeks.

Spike Reynolds: I’ll think about it Bern, I aint promising anything, but I suppose it could be enough, well I’m going, if I’m there, you’ve got yourself a deal, if I don’t turn up. You owe me.

The mayor’s ass was saved for now, it was a risk inviting Spike to the ball, it wasn’t even a ball it was every important person in Scarville, however the aging mayor was never as brittle and frail as he looked, underneath he was still a soldier, he still knew a thing or two about holding his own. His wife came in, completely drunk and stuttered;

Evelyn Phillips: Darling, who were you talking to?

Bernard Phillips: Nobody dear, you go to bed now, you look completely drained.

They were an old fashioned couple, they didn’t sleep In the same bed, well I don’t think either of them felt any love for one another, not for years, if it wasn’t for her cheating, she’d resemble a tomb, cob web engulfed cold, empty and dry. Spike had been bribing Bernard for the past year and a half, it started with a few drinks, and then it rose to cigars, now hundreds of dollars. The presidential election was coming up in the next month; Phillips could not afford anymore slip ups in his life. The Next morning the birds were singing, not a cloud in sight, the sky was as blue as anyone had ever seen it, the sun’s glow brightened up the room in which Mayor Phillips was sleeping, he turned over taking the sheets with him, he stood up and on his slippers, his grey hair slightly crazy, he walked into his en suite and ran the taps in his sink, he washed his face, the combed his thin grey hair. He changed into his suit and sat down with his wife, who at the time was eating toast, watching Jerry Springer.

Jerry Springer: Lets bring out Myelin’s cheating husband Gary.

She looked like a stripper, he came out frowning, he sat down as Jerry looked on, she was speechless, as Gary said;

Gary: Come out please

Jerry Springer: Okay let’s see the lover

Out came another man, the two fags kissed, Evelyn and Myelin were in utter shock

Evelyn Phillips: Would you believe it!

Bernard Phillips: No. I didn’t see that one coming. Evelyn, we need to talk

She turned round and looked at him as he uncomfortably took a seat, she offered him some toast but he shook his head, he placed his old hands on the table. His grey pin striped suit nicely ironed and cleaned for him.

Bernard Phillips: you have no idea the pressures I have, you have no idea of this poison, clamping my lungs, the jealousy I feel when I see with other men. I’m not oblivious nor am I stupid Evelyn I don’t think there’s been a single week for the past two years where you haven’t gone behind my back, I don’t know weather the memories flashing for my eyes are to remind me of the good times or weather my life is about to be cruelly and swiftly taken from my grasp.

Evelyn Phillips: What are you saying Bernie?

Bernard Phillips: Just let me talk, let me finish. I’m sick of you not being my wife.

Evelyn Phillips: We’re married though…

Bernard Phillips: A Wife is somebody who is there for her husband, someone who looks after him, in sickness and in health, the one person who he can talk to. Never have you been that person.

Evelyn Phillips: So… So I’m a bad wife.

Bernard Phillips: So I want a divorce.

He stood up, tears rolling down her face, she never knew what she had until he’d gone. He walked out of the door with his limo parked on the street, with driver James sat inside, he adjusted his hat, got out and opened the back door for the Mayor.

James the Driver: G’morning sir.

Bernard Phillips: You too James.

He sat inside, his thighs supported by leather interior. He looked around, there was something different about the limo today, it had a different metallic look.

Bernard Phillips: Straight to the office today James, and have you done something to the car?

James the Driver: Yes sir, I had some metal interior features installed.

Bernard Phillips: Its nice, get some music on James.

James the Driver: Yes sir.

Johnny B. Goode came on and Bernard initiated a Punjabi like dance, he thought inside him though, it was time for change, Novel of my shipwrecked being tied up dried alive still breathing, The sands of time, from me are running out, my hands shake, in apprehension, Of every action I'm guilty of playing the victim, he’d had enough. It was time to end this farce. After an easy day in the office, he walked down from the conference center and into his limo.

Bernard Phillips: To the town hall

James the Driver: Alright sir.

Later into the night, Bernard stood outside the hall on the white stone steps, gazing into the twilight, the spider like hands crept on his shoulder, a cigarette engulfed smell gauged round Bernard’s face.

Spike Reynolds: Hello Chump.

Bernard Phillips: Good evening Simon. Enjoying the party?

Spike Reynolds: Its spike. For the thousandth time. And yes, quite the spectacle.

Bernard Phillips: That’s good Simon. See you around.

He left the twilight scene and walked back into the town hall he greeted those in the hall, busty women in black dresses, elegant women in white skirts. All types of important people, Spike however in the corner stood with a can of beer, scowling at the people with riches, the important people with status, the proud bachelors with respect. All of them were a someone, Spike was a nobody. He had nobody, he walked forward and firmly pushed Bernard against a wall, his fumy breathe brushing the hairs on his face.

Spike Reynolds: You know what Bernard, I don’t know what’s happened to you in the past what twenty three hours, but I don’t like it, this new attitude of yours aint acceptable. Lets get a drink yes?

He dragged the mayor to the bar and sat him down

Spike Reynolds: Jack Daniels, now! Make that two for my friend here.

The barman poured the whiskey into two glasses

Spike Reynolds: Leave both bottles. Me and you need to talk Bernie.

Bernard Phillips: You’re drunk.

Spike Reynolds: No I’m spike. I can do what I want whenever I want; I’m bribing the Mayor of Scarville for god’s sake what can’t I do?

Bernard Phillips: I don’t care weather you’re Drunk, Spike or God, you have no right to tell me what to do…

Spike Reynolds: Hold that thought. I need to take a slash. Where are the loos?

Bernard Phillips: Over there.

Spike walked away, Bernard watched and had a disturbing epiphany. He pulled a white powder from his pocket and poured it in the whiskey. Bernard then waited as the powder floated around in the spirit; it fused in as Spike came out of the restroom looking refreshed. His dark leather jacket glimmered in the light. Spike got back and took a big swig of the whiskey. He became quickly dizzy.

Bernard Phillips: What’s the matter?

Spike Reynolds: Nothing… I’m…

He was cut off by the floor, darkness grew as he hit the floor unconscious, everyone looked at him as he quivered, Bernard looked above the crowd towards security.

Bernard Phillips: Get this scum outta my sight.

Security: Yes sir.

They took him to the hospital. Where his health deteriorated. And eventually at the start of summer on the twenty second of June, he died. At the funeral only Bernard turned up. Despite dozens of rows of chairs set out, a burly wood coffin, the priest wearing a normal black robe with glasses half way down his nose, he was slightly older than the mayor. Who felt very alone and out of place. He was responsible for the murder. But nobody but he would ever know it.

Priest: Would you like to say a few words Mayor Phillips?

He shook his head. And looked up, he sighed and denied the opportunity

Bernard Phillips: For whom? Nobody is hear but you and I, words would fall upon deaf ears. If they weren’t deaf ears, they would fall upon maggot ingested ears, they have no need for words of encouragement, no need for any enlightenment. Goodbye Simon. Goodbye Father.

He stepped out onto the grey yet clean sidewalk; everyone who walked past greeted him as if nothing had happened. Of course, as far as they knew, nothing had happened. Bernard’s before wretched life was free, he’d broken these chains, released himself from the cage of scum, the tank of horror. Simon Reynolds left the town. And replaced in Scarville by one man. The orange truck pulled up in front of 3 violet avenue. The fat bald men carrying furniture through to into the house, out came the tall, handsome, strong man who owned the property. Zack Riley.

Zack Riley: Careful that was my father’s lamp shade. Actually he’s gay, do what you will with it.

This innocent citizen didn’t know what he was stepping into, his life was now entwined, entangled, engulfed in the bitter taste of deception. It was called Scarville for a reason. Nothing is normal, nothing is sane, and nothing is pleasant nor is nothing joyful. Only scars remain.
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