Blog Archives

(Fiction) - The Trial in #Vegas on #SuperBloodMoon

9/29/2015

THE TRIAL IN VEGAS
SUPER BLOOD MOON

I follow George through the set of double doors leading to the garden. Ray and Ana stand near a row of rose bushes, the entire area lit by the glow of the blood moon. My white dress flutters in the light breeze while we wait for Saul to bring the prisoner from the kennels. His hulking shadow passes over the fountain and I know the moment draws closer. We will have a trial in Vegas.

Saul leads the man, hooded and shackled into the clearing and binds him with rope to a thick wooden pole. I approach him as George, Ana, and Ray sit on the stone steps of the fountain. Beside the pole is a table and on it my special knife rests next to a stack of documents. Taking the knife into my hand, I remove the hood from the prisoner.

   A slim blonde man wearing glasses blinks at me, duct tape covering his mouth. I doubt he understands the situation, but I remain silent, studying him for a span of time stretching into minutes. Why not make him sweat before I tell him the bad news? Let his imagination conjure the worst of his fears. I yank the duct tape off in a swift motion and smile when the man yelps with pain.

"Do you know why you are on trial tonight?" I ask.

   His eyes move from me to the watchers by the fountain and back again. "The man that broke into my apartment told me it was because I am part of Gamer Gate."

"You harass and stalk feminist women online. Women like me. Tonight you will answer for your crimes."

   "Crimes? You're such a victim that you consider someone disagreeing with you on the internet a crime? Fucking feminists."

   I laugh and grab a paper from the table. "When I saw your tweets online, I knew there was more to it than simple harassment. I don't kill people for opinions, only rape. Saul hacked your computer and ran a background check on you. You have something of a record. Don't you, Paul?"

"No..." he begins to stammer, but I interrupt.

   "Save it. You pleaded guilty to sexual assault freshman year of college. Rich papa saw to it that you didn't catch a more serious charge. But you raped that girl. Don't bother with denials, Saul found proof on your hard-drive. You were stupid enough to video tape the party. Spoiled rich boy indeed. Tsk, tsk."

   The man opens his mouth to respond, but I do not let him speak and place the duct tape over his lips.

"I heard enough of your hate online. I've heard more than enough from all you Gamer Gate people harassing me. When I see men stalk and harass women online, I know that most of the time it's not just online. Looking into a few hundred of the screen names associated with Gamer Gate, many have been convicted of sexual assault, harassment, and stalking women. You're no lone wolf exception. It's very common."

   George approaches me, hands behind his back waiting for my orders. I nod to him and he removes a mobile phone from a suit pocket and taps a button to start the music playlist. One of my favorite songs plays, Total Eclipse of the Heart.

   "I'll tell you this, Paul. Gamer Gate will soon be over, because the ones stalking and harassing will ruin the movement, but for you, it will be tonight because you met the Butcher of Vegas."

   Pulling the tape away enough for him to speak, I say, "I don't suppose you have heard of me."

   "The what of Vegas?" he asks and once again I pull the duct tape over his lips.

   "The Butcher of Vegas and I don't suffer rapists stalking me," I say, placing the knife against his throat. I begin singing with the song, watching his eyes pleading with me for mercy. "Every now and then I fall apart...and kill people."

   Dragging the blade deep into his neck, I watch the life ebb from his eyes while streams of blood cover my white dress. Looking up at the blood red moon, I smile.

   "Bring me the next rapist, Saul."

3 Comments

#SerialPlaylist - Sara Bareilles - Sweet As Whole

9/26/2015

0 Comments

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IcqRbPk_bk
Posted by Ella Thomas on Saturday, September 26, 2015

0 Comments

In the Study in #Vegas - Introducing The Mayor of Her-City, #Nevada

9/26/2015

2 Comments

IN THE STUDY

I peruse the books and pictures, unfamiliar with this room. Indeed, I can't remember the last time I paid a visit to my husband's study. Sitting in the black leather chair, I trace my hand over his writing implements and read the words written in tight scrawl on the first page in front of me.

You might call me a lucky man to have a wife of such stunning beauty. And you would be correct. What I did to deserve this fate must have happened in another life, for nothing in all my memories makes me worthy to call Ella my own.

The door to the study opens and George enters with Ana and a severe looking short man wearing a pin-striped suit and matching vest. I smile because the man must be suffering in such attire, for even though the calendar states it's almost October the temperature is over 100 degrees today.

"Why must we meet in Ray's study? It feels odd being in here without him present." I ask.

George places a chair opposite me and I watch the visitor place documents on the desk with little paper arrows taped to various spots.

"We do not receive official visitors in your area of the mansion, Mrs. Holden, as you know. This man is a justice of the peace and has documents awaiting your signature."

I let out a low whistle and look over the papers. It must be important for George to address me as Mrs. Holden. The papers include deeds and titles and permits for building and other details associated with my project in the Nevada desert. I nod and without asking questions, begin signing at each spot I find a paper arrow on the pages. The man flips through the documents with aplomb and I can see he possesses experience in these matters.

The business takes only a few minutes and I lift my eyes to gauge Ana's reaction. Most of the papers concern her assuming control of my interests in the desert, yet I can't find the least bit of emotion on her face. Her beauty remains placid and face immobile while I read through the last pages of fine print to be sure I understand the entire affair.

The man in the suit begins to gather up all the documents into stacks and inserts the pages into several file folders.

"I will make copies for your records and send all necessary correspondence from the city to your attorney and accountants in this matter."

"So it is done?" I ask him.

"As far as my part of the proceedings, I am quite satisfied. Good day," the man responds and takes leave without waiting for me to answer.

I do not know if he intends insult or the brusque nature of his exit is simply his manner. No matter. I open the cabinet, remove a bottle of scotch, and grab three glasses. Pouring three large servings, I hand a glass to George and Ana.

"I think a toast is in order." I lock eyes with Ana and smile. "To my Ana, the first mayor of Her-city."

"To the mayor of Her-city," George says.

Ana drinks and laughs, pretty dark brown eyes searching my own. "Only in Nevada."

2 Comments

In the Library - Part Three - Soliloquy in #Vegas

9/13/2015

0 Comments

in the library
part three
soliloquy

The mess of papers and notebooks on my writing desk fills me with despair for I can't lie and tell you I've made the least bit of progress on my next book. There are moments like today when I wonder what I'm doing, as in at all. It feels so pointless and empty. At 24, I know nothing and less than I did yesterday. What am I to share with the world? I have no wisdom or grand plan to improve this shit pile of an existence.

New music plays, a sorrowful piece that deepens the sadness I feel. Strings sing in minor keys, numbing my desire to write. Instead, why not close my eyes and drift and drift on a sea of violin waves. A cello accompanies the main line, creeping and stalking the melody, dark bass notes coloring the pretty viola runs. A crescendo and then a peaceful resolve snap me from my reverie.

The questions from readers and those I meet on social media always center around wanting to know the same answers my assistant demands. Tell the world of the sordid details surrounding the days of my thirteenth birthday. Tell the world what happened with Ray all those years ago. But, I ask you dear reader - do you want me to tell it or do you want to hear it in his words? I hold his book in my hands and the power to decide if the world will ever see what is written between the covers.

I've been assembling my early stories and remembrances of those days. If I can gather the courage, I'll release a book that will answer all the questions. In my own words and in my own time. I've never told it beyond Routine and must push myself to continue the story. You see, it started long before I met Ray a few days prior to my thirteenth birthday. So much happened before that hot day in July I walked into the convenience store where Ray worked.

But, those days have turned into memories and the mind plays tricks to deceive, to protect. I can only tell you how I remember it, the bits of buried hate that have been unearthed in my mind. The story lacks a linear line and I will tell it how I can. Will you follow me into the past?

I do not have a title for this book I am writing. Perhaps I shall simply name it the number of stories that comprise the volume - nine stories. It worked for Salinger or something like that. Enough of this and I do apologize for carrying on and on without a point. Some days the weight of memories...

0 Comments

#SerialPlaylist - Lee Brooks - Shine a Light

9/13/2015

0 Comments

in the Library - Part Two #Vegas

9/7/2015

0 Comments

in the library
part two

The martini numbs my sadness and I sit alone in the silence of the library thinking of Ray. Tick, tick, tick the clock speaks to me, but I have nothing to say in return. Time moves on without consent, fading and coloring my memories until the images of my childhood are mere blurs in the corners of my mind. Did it all happen to me like that? I wish my past were like a story and I could edit out the unsavory bits and pieces.

But we can't erase the terrible memories that keep us awake at night. Or forget. No matter how many times I wish thoughts of my father could be scrubbed from the walls of my mind, the stains of his affections remain. The bleary red eyes of his worst drunken nights form the portrait of how I remember him. Always drunk and wanting, needing me.

I hear the library door open and lift my eyes. George pushes a cart into the room and approaches me. On the cart I see the day's mail, my lunch, and another martini. My George always knows what kind of day I want it to be without the trouble of telling him.

"A new book arrived in the mail and I took the liberty of adding a new song to your music playlist. Do let me know if you need anything else today."

I place the empty martini glass on the tray and examine the paperback novel next to my fresh cocktail.

"Did you read this book, George?" I ask, taking it in my hands and rubbing my fingers over the shiny cover.

"I did not, Ella. It just arrived this morning. There is a note attached." George hands me a note written on Holden Farms stationary. How odd?

Ella,

I thought you might enjoy this story.

All my love,

Ray

I hope this book can distract me and lift the fog of memories of father that spin in my mind today. Grabbing my phone, I tap the button to play the new song George added to the playlist.

"One more thing, Ella," George says. I lift my eyes to meet his. "There is to be a literary event next month at the bookstore. A Great Gatsby themed event. The invitation arrived today."

Taking the invitation in my hands, I close my eyes and drift into the music.