A Dream Activates

The Mongrifier growled and spat as he stalked the bookshelves looking for books.

The last time that girl had dropped a bookshelf on him and now there was another in his domain.

Why couldn't a creature of darkness get any peace? He just wanted to eat some books and digest the stories so he could sleep.

But no!

These humans! Dreaming of the libraries through ancient threads -- always managed to disturb his sleep and when he tried to shoo them away, they vanished.

He picked up a book from a shelf and tore a chunk of paper from it. He digested the story in his mouth. It was about a boy with a scar on his forehead. The alliterations on the pages got stuck in his teeth like fish scales and he spat those out. He chewed some more and started to feel drowsy with the effect the book was having on his brain.

Then he heard the footsteps. "Fucking hell," he thought, "not again."

Mr. Kosmos walked through the bookshelves, looking up at the shelves as they vanished somewhere in the darkness above him. This was the second night he was dreaming of the library and he was not even a reader. The musty smell of old books was everywhere. What little light shone through the windows told him the time was somewhere between evening and night. He looked out of the large glassed windows, but he didn't see anything he could recognize. He stepped ahead carefully, making as little noise as possible. Last time he had seen the lupine creature lunge for him and woken up. This time, he didn't want to face the creature. One instance was enough for him.

He felt for the black card in his pocket and it thrummed assuringly against his fingers. The surge of confidence from the touch of the card told him that he could take on the creature and whatever it brought to him and then rule the library as the Supreme Librarian.

He looked at the books on the shelves. There were hardbound editions in languages he didn't know. Gold and silver adorned the spines of the books with thick letter in alien languages naming the books and authors, he hoped. There was not even a single book in any language he recognized. He took a turn and saw another row of shelves going as far as the eye could see.

Maybe I am in the wrong section, he thought. The black card in his pocket was starting to feel warm and he took it out and placed it in his hand. A small line of LED lights lit up on the card. It made an arrow. He had never seen the card do something like this, but then again, most of the things the card did were beyond his understanding anyway. He followed the arrow as it changed directions, from bookshelves to dusty rows and cobwebs and the stench of rotting stories.

He walked deeper into the library, listening for any sound from the demonic creature he had seen. The books started to whisper to him. Soft susurrations, that called out to him and told him to pick the books up, but the card kept him focused. There were times when he felt pulled too strongly, but the card's shard edges in his hand brought him back to following the directions on the surface of the card.

He walked for hours. Seemingly lost, but the card still kept leading him. The library must be kilometers in area, he thought. How many, he had no idea how to calculate.Then the arrows on the card pointed to a book shelf. There were books in English on that shelf. He recognized some of the titles, but most were alien names to him.

Right in the  middle of the stacks, a book -- black as a brick, it sucked all the light like a black hole. He raised his hand towards the book and felt the hair on the nape of his neck rise in a fear. Something was watching him.

His finger touched the book and he heard a low growl behind him. Angry and it seemed like it had a lot of teeth. He grabbed the book and started to pull it out of the book shelf.

Right then, the black card pricked his hand and he dropped it. A moment of panic and all his confidence vanished like vapor. He bent down to pick the card and something large moved in the area where his head was and slammed into the bookshelf, toppling it, throwing books all around. With just the book with black spine in his hand.

He looked at the thing that stared right at him with hatred in its eyes. He looked back at the demon and growled a sound that was a pretty strong imitation of the menacing growl emerging from the demon's throat.

The creature lunged at Mr. Kosmos and he opened the black book.

The world around him froze in a snowglobe mimicry. The big demon wolf, sprawling in air, reaching for his head with claws outstretched, maw of doom open, salivating, madness in its eyes. His own hand shielding the black card with his body with the open black book in front of him.

Everything started to melt in a fever dream of black and blue. Mr. Kosmos knew he was going to wake up, he braced himself and woke up with a scream to find a dark knife hovering inches from his throat.

A man with a rictus grin on his face had the knife in his hand.

"Well, well, well, I was just about to cut your throat in your sleep. But now that you're awake, maybe you can tell me where the black card is."

"Why don't you ask that thing?" Mr. Kosmos pointed behind the smiling man.

The Mongrifier's low growl filled the small motel room.

---
Don't go walking in libraries in dreams, you might bring back creatures that do not really belong in our world.

Jester's Lament

"Hey, wake up."

Jester kicked the man who was lying on the sidewalk in a drunken sprawl. The man made an animal sound but didn't stir. The sounds from a nearby bar were like ghost whispers in this corner of the street.

It was late and the man had had his fill of alcohol. Right now, he was not good for anything except his specific skills. He was an important man. Few had the talent that he possessed. Jester had a question and he knew he'd have to get it answered the old fashioned way.

He sat down on his haunches near the man and took out his switchblade. He flicked the knife open and cut a sliver of red in the man's open palm. The man's eyes opened instantly. His pupils were jet black and darkness swirled like a witch's potion in his eyes. Jester avoided looking directly into the man's eyes.

The voice that emerged from his throat was guttural grating of knives on hard bones.

"Dark Knife, what do you seek?"

Jester groaned at the name. He'd not been called that in ages. It was an old and lost name that he hoped would stay buried. But it sprung up at him like a rotting corpse from a casket when he least expected it.

"There is a black card in the wild, he said, "and I need to know its location."

"Black black black card. Wild so wild. A bus, then mud then truck then flames. Beware the Mongrifier. Don't read books. Drugs doom boom boom batman..."

The man droned on.

Jester got up and started walking in the direction of the bar. He had the answers he needed. He was going to hunt down that card no matter what. The man called to him again. Jester vanished in the darkness.

----
Mr. Kosmos was in a library.

Something chased him. Big paws attached to a violent killing machine. It padded through the darkness, slamming into the bookshelves here and there, knocking down books.

He felt the maw of fear clench onto his heart. He tripped on a fallen hardcover and managed to twist and land on his back. The monster was upon him. A paw pressed his chest with the ability to crush his ribs and puncture his heart.

He cried out in fear and woke up.

Mr. Kibbles was sitting on his chest.

He'd never wanted so badly to skin a cat.

----
This is definitely going somewhere. Typed on my phone so point out any typos in comments and I'll correct those.

The Book Bitch

Lisa got down from the bus and waited for the porter to get her suitcase out of the belly of the bus.

She imagined the bus as some ancient leviathan, ferrying passengers from unknown places to where they were actually meant to be, swallowing them up and regurgitating them at their destinations.

She was still lost in her thoughts when she noticed the porter was looking at her.

He was also saying something.

She switched her mental frequencies back to Planet Earth and heard the words, "...is this your bag?"

It was and it wasn't.

It was the only bag left there and it looked remarkably similar to her own bag. But there were certain things that were missing. Her "Book Bitch" badge that was supposed to be on the side of the bag and another label that simply said "Prose Before Hoes". They were missing, ergo, this bag was not hers.

But it was the only bag left and she was the only passenger left, so it had to be hers.

She was still confused at what to say when the porter placed the bag near her. "Look, miss, I can't wait here forever. We need to get the bus cleaned up for the return journey."

"Buh-but, I don't think that th-this is my bag!" Lisa said.

"Well, I don't really care," the porter scratched his nose, "it is totally your problem now."

Anger, like a flash flood, roared through her ears and she slammed the first thing she had in her on the porter's face. It was a hardcover of "Of Human Bondage".

"Ow," the porter yelled, "bitch! Why'd you do that for!"

"You lost my fucking bag, you numbskull dimwitted dumb motherfucker. I only have this book with me and some stranger's bag. How else the fuck do you suppose I will feel. I'd shove this book up your ass but I am not done reading this."

"Jesus, woman. Look into the bag if it's not yours. Maybe someone has your bag and they have their contact information somewhere in there."

"I was going to do that only," she lied, "once you got the fuck out of my face."

The porter's nose was bleeding badly by now and he looked like a cartoon vampire with blood streaming down his chin. He held on to his nose with one hand and shot her the finger with the other hand.

"Good luck," he mumbled, "bitch."

Lisa raised the hardcover to hit him again, but he was already scuttling off like a beaten puppy. She picked up the bag and took it to the bus shelter next to the bus stop.

Deep breathes, she told herself. Deeeeep breaths.

Once she had calmed down enough, she opened the bag. It was a simple bag with a zipper on top that opened up to reveal different compartments in the bag. She knew because her bag was the same and she had kept some of her best books in the bag. The other books were going to reach her university residences through a book porting company.

But this bag, it was full of knives. All gleaming clean and sharp with the promise of bloodshed. There were all kinds of knives in the bag. From tiny scalpels to a large butcher's knife. There was a swiss knife neatly tucked into a pouch meant for keeping pens and there was a bowie knife placed at the bottom of the bag. There were knives she had never seen and some knives that didn't even look remotely like a knife. Some knives were only blades and the others were only ornate, complex and futuristic looking handles.

There was an ID card in the bag. She picked it up and looked at the man in the picture.

"Fuck me," she sighed.

--
"Son, would you be a darling and peel this apple for me?"

Their car was stuck in traffic and they had not moved an inch in the last one hour. Mr. Kosmos took the apple from her mother and opened the zipper of his bag that was lying under his seat. He took out the first thing that his hand chanced upon. It was not a knife, it was a book.

"Fuck me!" he yelled out of sheer shock of WTF.

Mr. Kibbles woke up in his mother's lap and hissed at him.

----------------------------------------
So, we got the train rolling once again. Two in two days! This is going along nicely, no? There might be some discrepancies here and there, but I'll apply my Author's License there.

Any feedback, comments, criticisms? Leave me a comment!

Thanks for reading!

Mother

The last few hours home are always the longest. Mr. Kosmos drove with his hands on ten and two position on the wheel, but his mind was elsewhere.

The road became a blur in his head. The scenery whipping past, with the sameness that bordered on dejected boredom. He kept thinking about the girl who had gotten him thrown off the bus. He'd have to go back and exchange a word or two with the girl about her behavior. He made a mental note about visiting the bus company and finding out the girl's home and office address.

A road sign coming up in the distance caught his eye and shook him out of his mental reverie. He turned the steering wheel and took a road that led to the village where his mother lived. It had been some time since he had visited her and it irked his conscience that he was not visiting he at a better time. He had picked some cookies for her from the bakery next to his office. He knew she liked the coconut flavored cookies. He didn't know how long he was going to stay with her, but he had taken the week off from work and he had the time.

He took another turn and headed for the road to his mother's house. He smelled the smoke before he saw the flames rising in a distance. His heart dropped in the pit of his stomach like a brick and his foot automatically pressed harder on the accelerator.

There was a small crowd gathered outside his mother's house. The house, or what remained of it, was up in flames. The fire danced devilishly on the doors, windows, and walls of the house. He hurried out of the truck and ran towards the house, scanning through the crowd for some face he knew or someone who'd give him some information on what had happened here.

Then he saw his mother standing there with her shawl wrapped on her shoulder and her infernal cat nestled in the crook of her arm. He breathed for the first time since he had seen the smoke. He almost wanted to fall down on his knees and start crying but he knew mother would hate that.

His mother had the most beatific smile on her face. He went to her and tried to hug her but the cat hissed at him.

"Hello, son," his mother said as she shusshed the cat in the same breath.

"Mother...what happened here? Are you ok?"

"I am fine. Absolutely fine. I just set fire to the house to get rid of the rats in there."

"Mom?"

"Oh, you know, I can't have Mr. Kibbles running around under the house hunting rats! He is too precious to be doing that." She stroked the cat's head and the animal purred.

Mr. Kosmos felt a nerve flicker in his head.

"Well, I think I'll come and stay with you for some time then."

She started walking towards the truck. "Get my bags, dear."

Mr. Kosmos looked at the five bags that were neatly arranged near to where his mother was standing.

He sighed and picked up the first bag.

It was heavy.

Still Here, Still Alive

Man, last post on this blog was on April 29! Makes me sad. I've been busy. BUT, I've been writing poems on my Poetry blow, www.fubarpoems.blogspot.com, so if you're of a poetic bent of mind, you can head over there and have a look.

Why didn't I update this blog, when I updated Poetry quite a lot. Well, first off, I wanted to write more about Mr. Kosmos and his adventures/misadventures, but the story somehow didn't lift off the way I wanted it to. Life got in the way, I got busy with things like making some money and paying my bills and let's not beat around the bush, you can't really force your mind to be creative when you're living a dull, insipid life. But that's how it goes. If a story needs to be told, it will be told, but if it doesn't, you can bleed at the keyboard and not write another word. Because if you force it, it will show.

So, what now. Either I start writing shorts here again or I pick this one up and take it to its rightful end. I am not really sure what I will do, but I am just throwing some kindling on the dying embers of this blog and fanning the flames a bit. Maybe I'll rant here. Maybe I'll write the story in next post. I have a few ideas floating around in my head. None of which would make anyone happy, but I doubt if anyone is reading blogs these days. People are busy dying while catching pokemon and getting fucked up offended by opinions of strangers on social media, or they're spreading misinformation and stupidity through facebook and whatsapp.

I seriously think they should take a written as well as a psychological profile test before giving people an Internet connection. This will not only improve the state of online discourse but it will also help to weed out the mentally ill people in society and we can then send them off to gas chambers...

But stories, oh yeah, we write stories on this blog.

Be back with that shit in a while. Kick me in comments if I don't write here in two days from now.