A little of this and a bit more

Alan Crawford presents twisted short and some longer stories for adults, with quite a number of his rants and observations as well.

Several curious people, really it’s just one, asked me how or where the ideas came from. Thankfully there’s no clear answer. When the trousers, mind, or weather conditions suit such things, the computer opens, a page appears, and it starts to flow. See menu for the main Short Stories.


Wally was watching

Reading Time: 4 minutes“I hope these three are still alive” … wondered Wally. He didn’t know how to express the joy he felt over his wonderful three to anyone else, he couldn’t. But it was and they were, wonderful. Watching them was like poetry, music, art, humanity, love and hate and passion. Three people were in the session. Wally was watching.

There was no direction, no outcome no nothing .. the three just sat, walked, talked, relaxed, stressed, fucked, slept and died. Many died in complete confusion, upset but all without pain. They just died of natural causes. They had plenty of food, water, entertainment, sunshine and medical care. Not a worry in the world – once they realised that they were stuck in this sealed wondrous complex with its shared living areas and separate rooms. No other human company to interact with aside from themselves. Many a horror/slash, guts and gore film had sort of similar scenarios, but there were none like this one. This was real and Wally was watching.

Dying of natural causes

All under the watchful eye of Wally as it was their fate. The reason for their placement in the complex, unbeknownst to them, was a very carefully crafted, planned and actioned occasion by the crafty old Wally. He had been alive for 987 years and had plenty of time to occupy his mind and time. His only crime was that he outlived the previous session controller – and as an reward, he got the prize. Somewhat close to eternal life (well a bloody long time anyway) with the task of watching his subjects pass away. When they did eventually die, Wally would burn them and the complex and all evidence of their presence. Police would never be able to find anything – one once tried, but she died in that very space.

Many years back Wally had to maintain the room in a large draughty, wet and sandy cave with less than educated souls, whose joys in life where a lot less complicated than today’s participants. Betty, Phil and Terry were the pleasure of today and the hoped for – many days beyond. Wally had picked these three in 1977 and by now each one was probably only a year or two from living the numbing release that a calm death provides.

The complex

The design for this session was a minimalist open planned space with enormous white walls, marbled floors and so called modern furniture. Chrome, glass and black features dominated the private rooms, both the wet areas and the bedrooms. Each flat canvas like white wall proudly displayed some vibrant colourful art and the ledges and shelves scattered about the complex supported some wildly controversial pieces that sparkled the soul of those lucky enough to see them.

The occupants did (over time) learn to appreciate the lush surroundings. The provided art history documentaries and books really helped in their art appreciation. The lighting in the rooms was warm and dedicated to highlight the subtle features of the complex.

This time the set-up was created within an abandoned steel works. This ghostly tomb of a long since deserted work place was now only visited by drug addicts and kids looking for fun, often they were one and the same. Wally had so carefully hidden the complex inside this ruined tribute to man’s enterprise, that no one would find it. Actually the occasional visitor brought some distraction as Wally watched over his charges. The dead drug addicts he found were simply burnt and the kids he left alone to their young perverse, pimply faces sexual adventures – he liked those bits.

Wally looked like an average 60 odd-year-old

He had slight paunch, thinning hair but far too much hair around the ears and nose. He had a huge smile like a yawning hippo that revealed a whiter than white smile full of teeth, paid for in full two weeks ago. The smile hurt at the moment as another fitting was required to smooth down the sharp edges of the dentures and plate that were digging into his gums.

They looked great and once fitted will feel great, he would be able to enjoy a good steak and his favourite chocolate again. Not blended to a pulp as he was currently enduring his meals. Wally also had the classiest taste in clothes, understated but they screamed money to those that knew. Most people just saw a nice old fella, some saw a very wealthy one and some may have seen him watching in their last moment of life.

Wally had taken a picture of his last three residents when they died. He’d also been known (but not by anyone else mind you) to draw and even carve representations in various media for many, many years, but had grown weary of the bother. A photograph of the last moment is all he worries about getting now. So many years between entry and a death at around 50 – 98 years old has been the norm. Wally did have three that all died within a week of going in but that was their own doing – he couldn’t intervene in time as they died of blood loss in the main kitchen / dining area. Despite the outcomes Wally was watching.

One of the three

One went completely crazy and slashed the throat of his companions and then carved out his own carotid artery. Bloody messy and such a hassle as the next complex hadn’t been built or even thought about. In fact, the next three residents hadn’t been selected. It took years to get over that blood letting.

Wally normally took at least 8 months to find the three, once the new complex was ready. Each resident had to be reasonably unattached and unconnected to the community. Although not so disconnected so as to trigger suspicion when they were taken. He couldn’t target a sub set each time as that would ring a bell somewhere. Disconnected and as much as possible in the modern world, random.

Wally had finished bathing and was preparing for his daily watch. He’d selected a smart pin stripe suit of grey, a crisp white shirt, and black loafers when he heard a loud and very unusual noise. He wasn’t worried, the residents often did strange things, but this noise seemed to be real and not one picked up the microphones within the complex – it was coming from outside the complex itself.

Wally looked at the security monitors

Just in time to catch a glimpse of his downfall, just seconds before it hit. The three didn’t hear a thing. Wally was flattened by the blast and before he knew what was happening, he was sitting in a chair, wet, without clothes, bound and concerned. The face that spewed forth screams and questions at him was not of this world. Wally was very concerned and confused.

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I'm an increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short and slightly longer stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024

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