Sunday Scribbling: key, One Word: collar
He must have drunk too much but damned if he could remember.Â He could taste the last drop of beer he drained from the glass, feel the thud as he set the empty down on the bar, after that – nothing.Â Til now.Â Now there was a blue screamer of a headache and his neck is stiff like maybe he had slept wrong.
Sitting up seemed like the thing to do but as he pushed himself into a sitting position, he saw black spots and for a moment worried he would pass out.Â A voice from somewhere behind him asked “Where is the key?”Â He answers “Who are you?” and a sudden buzz of pain surrounded his neck and he clawed at some kind of metal band, collar, torture device!Â The pain stopped after what seemed like hours and he fell back down, weeping.Â The voice again asked “Where is the key?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about!” He cries, and the pain begins again.Â He writhes and claws but he can’t loosen it and he thinks frantically, what can he tell them, what do they want, who the hell are they??
He waited in terror for the voice again, knowing he wouldn’t have an answer and anticipating what that would mean.Â He carefully felt the metal band around his neck, trying to see how it was fastened, a mantra in his head alternating between “please don’t let it start again” and ” how do I get this thing off”.
It started with a call in the middle of the night when a friend from high school claimed he was in town and wanted to meet up.Â He hadn’t heard from Jack in years but he was a good enough dude in school so when Jack suggested a sports bar not far from where he worked, he readily agreed to meet him.Â Jack never showed.
After a few moments the lights went out and the dark made the fear and pain all the sharper.Â He was sure the voice would be back and if they were trying to break him, they would get their wish.
The lights came back on and the voice returned. “Where is the key, Jack?” Oh man, he had been set up.Â Who was Jack now and what kind of key did he have?Â “I’m not Jack!” he said and the buzz began.Â By the time it stopped he was nearly unconscious. “I’m not Jack.” he moaned.Â “I have no idea who you are or what key you are talking about.Â I wish I did, I would tell you, give it to you, whatever you want!”
“Where is the key?”
Sister Dee, it’s a good thang you got Jesus in your corner, cuz you got one helluva Muse. :-d Ring around the collar, indeed: ouch.
So, you’ll be like Anne Rice with all your different publishing personae: the lovely rocking poet, the YA author, the southern Yankee story-mama, and the diabolical deposer of the Innocent.
I’m not Jack either, cher. B’lieve me.
Jack’s in the wind professor and so am I 🙂 When you get a late start there is a lot of looking around to do, corners to poke, drawers to explore, things to try on and discard. I’m having one long party with it all, the words, the ideas, the people (yourself included). It’s all an adventure, “in-venture”, making the box do what I want “out-venture”.
Holy moly, Dee, this is really real-feeling, edge-of-the-seat stuff here! Where is the key? Oh god it will never end. Supremely clever 😀
And whoâ€™s the cute little banner chicklet? Nuala? ; ) Nice look, all of it. Very spiff : )
MissA – this is a great way to get rid of stress. Have a bad day? Kill or torture someone in a story 🙂 Glad you like the new look. I had wanted a new dress for some time and couldn’t quite decide on the color or style….