Hourglass of the Hostile

Insecurity

Hands trembling as the doorbell rings. It’s Here! It’s Here! It’s Here! Toes squishing through sumptuous plush carpet, security bolt removed and door opened. Delivery man warily peering through my screen door haze.

“ Maynard Crescent, Parafield Gardens?” (Bingo!)

Yes, yes…thank you. Digital transaction requirements met, it’s ALL MINE! Mmmm just smell the packaging materials, I swear I can smell Italy in there. Gucci Couture Oh yes! The girls are going to be SO fucking jealous. Ok packaging materials AWAY! (Shit almost knocked over the bong, Mum will kill me if I get that shit on the carpet). Oh here it is, glorious, GLORIOUS! Yes I may not be the first in my clique to have an iPhone 3, but goddamn I am the first to have my own Maddison Parletti custom designed metal embossed backed iPhone 3…


Raisa? (damn, she almost looks like a kid when she runs this ‘item voodoo’ crap).
Raisa? What was that you whispered? Did you say Parafield Gardens? Maynard Crescent?
(another job for the SAPOL database via iPhone)

Ok, the place you mention is registered to a Mr Noah Blayne and his wife Veronica Blayne, daughter Nadine and Lawrence… Sounds like you guys have an address to check out.


That stupid dog is sniffing the air again. Oh I guess it will next berate my ear drums with that terribly growling bark. Oh yes, here it comes, growl, growl you big guard dog you, so big and strong. Strange I haven’t heard footsteps or voices yet. Wow, look at those raised hackles, oh he’s moving closer to the fence, my oh my why the moonlight looks lovely on his coat.

What was that? Was that hissing? A fellow reptile? Oh if only I could turn my accursed neck! Gosh, look at his tail tuck under, barely a whisper, perhaps it IS a fellow reptile, although how it got through or over the fence I’ll never know.

There he goes, getting his courage back…never seen those boots before. That doesn’t look like anyone I know. Hey! What are you doing with Spook? He doesn’t like being handled, you put him down this instance!

My word that was fast, why if I wasn’t the prime specimen of reptilian life I am, I think I would have missed the whole thing. Now where did he put Spook? He’s not in his hands anymore. Was that Spook on the other side of the fence? Could he have jumped over the fence? Surely not? He sounds somewhat injured, I hope he is ok.

Excuse me sir would you kindly tell me what you are doing in my backyard, and what did you do with my Spook?

I don’t think he can hear me, it must be those dark things covering his eyes (and what is with that strange reddish glow?). He doesn’t look like anyone I have seen before, all dirty and greasy, although he is certainly built like Master Lawrence.

Oh! There are more of them, a woman, dressed in black and also wearing things across her eyes, she won’t be able to hear me either then (does it matter if they are clear?). Another one? Another female, this one doesn’t have any things across her eyes…where did she go? She just disappeared? Right before my reptilian eyes!

What are they doing to the door? Do they not have keys? I could tell them where the spare is if they just asked me. Never mind, they have found their way inside, I suppose they’ll find out for themselves that the house is empty. I’m pretty sure they took all the good stuff, the weapons racks will be empty and there’ll be no food, and I’m pretty sure all the money is gone, as is some of those strange smelling robes. They may, however find something interesting to read, I don’t recall them taking any of those books they covet.


Being pinned to the wall is no place for a respectable Duck! We are creatures of the sky and water, not plasterboard, oh the indignity. Ah now here comes someone who might help, she looks somewhat respectable, although her dress is slightly odd and a tad dishevelled. She could do something more with her hair as well, but it does convey some kind of look I guess. Perhaps she was going for a nesting kind of thing?

No, no, no breaking that open won’t help, you have to press the square things with the strange glyphs on them, numbers I think the humans call them. 71 56 84 31. Maybe I should speak to her and tell her, she looks awfully worried about things.

Excuse me miss…

Oh, she’s running off, was it something I said?


Oh there she is! No, don’t…not my head.

Ow! Hmph mumph phumph.

Oh don’t look so surprised, you were standing on my bloody head! What you have never heard a stone lizard speak before? In all honesty if you had asked me before going in there I could have saved you a world of trouble.

The Ducks? Oh they are harmless, probably trying to help you with the code for the thingy, you know the thingy don’t you? The code? Sure I know the code, it’s 71 56 84 31.

How rude, not even a thank-you! I mean really, stand on my head, give you the code to the thingy and not even a thank-you, audacious chaos this is, chaos!


The texture is silk, hand woven and it’s dyed a deep purple, virtually black in the dim moonlit bedroom light. They smell like a catholic church, all frankincense and camphor. But there is something else there as well, a human smell, an animal smell. Fornication?

Vision swims, the world moves sideways and my senses are drawn deeper into the fabric (ALL of my senses!).

Music, it’s throbbing and raw and…old. 70’s I think, Rolling Stones, Deep Purple that kind of shit.

There are people all around me, a man’s warm hand rests across my back and atop my hip, his body holding me close. The place smells of steel, incense, marijuana and people. There is a stage before me, a figure wearing the same robes as me, his hood pulled deeply over his head obscuring the top half of his face, leaving his gorgeous well chiselled mouth and an alluring smile. There is just something about him that just makes you want to kneel down in front of him and… totally entrancing in that baaaad way.

He speaks to us of something which preys upon us all, something which we have all been affected by at some point in our lives, and something which will take the commitment of generations to eradicate from this city. Of course we cheer, his voice like liquid honey and sexy man scent, stirring warmth within me. I can see everyone is affected the same, man or woman, he draws us in and makes us his.

He calls us the birth of the ‘Chimera’ and reveals to us this fucked up looking lion come goat come snake thing, a massive statue cast in some kind of metal, and beneath its belly, below stylised animal like nipples, are piled the craziest mounds of coke, mary-jay and moonshine that I have ever seen. We are talking like twenty gran worth of shit, bloody-hell we are talking a house here. I blink as my eyes catch a figure standing to the side of the statue, hair flying out like some kind of Rasta, all ropey and long (did I just imagine that?).

Oozing testosterone forged tenor, he instructs us to indulge and taste the ‘succour’ of the Chimera (yep I’m pretty damn sure he used the word ‘succour’ you know like suck-oar, almost sounded British he did, old like a Bible word).

The music flares up again and with an uplifting sweep of robed arms from the man on the stage, the gesture seeming to release a wave of unbridled passion throughout all assembled, I am lifted up, strong firm hands now clasping the naked flesh under my robe…I give myself to the Chimera…


Raisa? Raisa? (are her pupils dilated? Is that normal for Kindred?)

Seb’s checking out some dressed-up car in the shed, there are dummies down stairs with holes in the chest and slashes to the neck area, and the books…Daughters of Liltu and Vampires, Burial and Death…

The relative quiet is sliced with the abrupt electronic ringing of phone. The phone rings seven times, at which point a message machine requests a message in a robotic tone. A woman’s voice is projected throughout the house, a detectable air of panic in her voice.

“Hello….Hello…My name is Rosalie Sabiti I have been given your name by…someone who said you could help me, you see I am being chased by something, and I…I fear my life is in great danger…I have another number I will try…”

The call ceases abruptly and an electronic voice dictates the time and the date. Silence returns to the house…

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Storyteller_Gee

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