Will She Be Mine?

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This month 3 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My “Secret Subject” is:

How did you meet your partner? Tell us your love story.

It was submitted by: https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog

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The following is a bit of a short story obviously. Well I'll guess you'll see what I mean about obviously. My actual for real romantic/sex life is just one of those things I like to keep just for me. 

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.

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I met the love of my life at work, ok?

It's a bit of a cliche meet cute that Hallmark has overdone a million times to meet your soul mate at work, but this one might be a little.... different. Hallmark probably isn't telling this story any time soon unless they start making Halloween themed movies. Perhaps a little horror comedy with a love angle...

She wasn't a coworker. And I mean I don't think she actually qualifies as a client either since she wasn't the paying party or anything. It's complicated.

Well that's probably a little understated for reality if I'm being honest but I just never figured I'd feel this way about someone and the circumstances just didn't bother me.

I'm just gonna say it.

I'm a necromancer.

There. It's out of the way now. I'm a necromancer. I don't exactly advertise it or anything. I feel like it's one of those abilities that would send us right back into Salem Witch Trials territory, but the right people know. Most of my work comes from attorneys looking to resolve death issues. I can raise someone for an hour with little effort, make 5000 bucks, and their families get a little closure. Did they leave a will? What did they want done with their estate? And occasionally, how the hell did this happen? Answers from a reanimated corpse are nowhere near being accepted as evidence in court, but with the family's blessing I've been able to at least point the cops in a direction...if the person knew and understood what happened. And I've definitely mended some broken hearts left to handle the unanswered questions after grief. I've been worked with therapists to do some final family therapy sessions. I've worked pro bono a few times for families who didn't have the privilege of having 5000 bucks to see their mom one more time or whatever but for the most part the business was pretty steady and I do ok. Some of my peers take dirtier jobs for bigger bucks like scientific research and corporate espionage or whatever but I just couldn't take that kind of money. Absolutely not my vibe. It's already hard enough being with people who have to say goodbye one more time or who point the finger for their death at someone in the family and everyone coming to terms with a new horror. I had to have a conscience about it, you know?

Which is what gets me about meeting Cecilia.... Like, it must have been fate, right? This wasn't the kind of case I normally take. I don't particularly like working for companies, but a friend of a friend got in touch and needed to ask a former employee some questions about ongoing projects. It seemed harmless enough, easy money. They'd said a half hour tops just to get a few key details down after the sudden death of the lead on these projects. Easy money. I wouldn't even be tired after that kind of time. I was used to a couple hours at least for family to get in their goodbyes which tended to make me a little worn out. I tried not to do more than a couple jobs a week. So a half hour? For a few questions? For the 4 grand they offered? Fuck. Why wouldn't I take it?

But that's not what happened.

I went to the address provided, met my contact, Tom, and raised Cecilia easy enough. A lot of times with older deaths, it takes time to work through the confusion they feel being back and she'd been gone a couple months. That really should have been the first red flag because why would they sit that long on work projects without answers? Then she seemed to instantly recognize Tom. She was absolutely pissed which I took as the confused emotions of the newly raised, but she started immediately cussing him out. They did, actually, work together, but he was obsessed with her and his stalking, from what I gathered from her 10 minutes of ranting, was the reason she'd run off the road that night trying to lose him. And she didn't give a shit for the apology and he better be glad the cops never gave a shit the million times she reported him. And that yes she knew he was only "apologizing" to find out how much hot water he might be in so he'd be real fucking lucky if she didn't find a way to haunt him until he ran to the cops himself to confess. 

He ran off in a huff, probably pissing himself on the way, and both of us immediately started laughing. As it died off, we looked at each other, and I felt like my entire body had erupted into butterflies. The mouth on that girl... Get your mind out of the gutter. I mean, she destroyed that man. The vocabulary, the strength, the take no bullshit attitude and in such a beautiful (and yes dead) package. I was smitten, and by the look on her face I knew she was at least interested. Gayyyyy.

I noticed her face fall at the realization that she was very limited on time now and would likely never see me again. She looked, not to toot my own horn here, absolutely devastated. So I told her I didn't mean to be presumptuous but I could see she wasn't ready to go back and like I never do this but could I keep her company for a little while longer. The smile, oh her smile... We talked and talked and flirted and oh boy was I absolutely devastatingly charmed by her. I couldn't get enough and almost passed out from the sheer exhaustion of keeping her animated. Her spirit was so strong though that I could be with her, present, and still keep that lifeline. I felt the most powerful I'd ever been all because of her.

I don't know where this is going because I don't know how to make it work, but I do know I love her. We've been doing our little cemetery dates sometimes 2 or 3 times a week for a year now. It's our anniversary tonight, in fact, and we have a big date planned--a zombie movie marathon for the dark comedy of it all--and I can't wait. I don't want a life without her. She's insisted I find a live girl and live out my greatest lesbian dreams, but how could I ever forget the way she makes me feel? It's more than love, and I swear I'm getting stronger. I can keep her longer. I can raise other people easier.

But I can't keep her forever.

Our relationship is pretty limited physically. I don't really raise the bodies, you see. That's not possible. I know what all the movies and books said, but they're simply not accurate. What I do is more like a hologram. It just helps to be near the body to do it well with as little confusion and emotional deregulation as possible. So there's not a lot going on here. I used to think that the physical side of things was as important as the love part. Sex is a big part of my life. Or was anyway. Now I'm not so sure I wouldn't be willing to make due somehow.

We're coming up on the anniversary of our first meeting, and I think I just might ask that girl to marry me.

Leave it to me with my past with both men and women to make my life the most complicated and painful (and beautiful) I've ever experienced.Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:



Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

Climaxed https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog

Boss Level

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are:

cocktail ~ screen ~ secure ~ dirty ~ book

It was submitted by: https://www.bakinginatornado.com

Thanks to reddit for another great idea for a story.

_________________

The officer looked tired. Beyond tired. Soaked to the bone with exhaustion. But in his defense, he'd probably been up for most of the last couple days trying to make sense of what happened. He looked like he'd just found out an alien race had been living on this planet for the last 3 decades disguised as scientologists.

He asked me a few preliminary questions, mostly my basic info, and then tapped a few times on a touch screen tablet in front of him that laughed a recorder and asked me to tell my story. So I did.

Here's the transcript.

Sam Mitchell: I'd had a cocktail at lunch which probably helped me out when things went down later that afternoon if I'm being honest.

As I waited for my food and drink, I'd felt a little...dirty? about it, like I was doing something I knew was wrong, but it was Friday just before a long weekend, and The Boss had been on some kind of ultra tantrum all week. No one even knew why this time. Not that there was ever a good reason for an adult to act like that with their employees, not in my book. So I'd also felt like I deserved it. The coming week wasn't shaping up to be any better.

The boss is--sorry--was one of those people epic quiting stories on Reddit are about--a sexist pig who couldn't even do his job but micromanaged everyone else. If you wanted to make sure your job was secure you had to attend his little after hours "team building" functions where he got drunk and hit on all the women. There was no pleasing him. Nothing was ever done right even when we were praised by HIS bosses. No one ever, ever got praise from him. He'd once screamed at this poor woman, I can't even remember her name now, who dared have a donut in his presence because he said she was too big to be eating like that. When James' wife had cancer, he absolutely refused to let us donate PTO time to him to stay home with her. When she died, he was at work...and he had to work from home to be able to take some days to deal with her funeral and his grief. We were all underpaid but that was especially true for the people who aren't men of course. Of course. I honestly have no good explanation for why I stayed. Afraid of change in part, I suppose.

Officer: had a reason to dislike the guy did you?

SM: look, don't roll your eyes about this, but I listen to true crime podcasts a lot and I know people who kill their spouses can't ever resist talking shit about them like not even 5 minutes into the interview, but we both know every single person you talked to already said he was a piece of shit.

Officer: yeah, yeah. True crime. Y'all think you know everything. Go on.

SM: So I'd been back at my desk for about half an hour when we heard the front door to the building blow open. I'd thought we were in experiencing an earthquake and hid under my desk--not a great decision or my finest moment, but I hope you'll let me blame the cocktail here. Anyway, we heard a bunch of yelling and then some screaming and then some shots and I thought for sure one of the people that had quit had come back to shoot the place up. I don't even know if I would have been that mad about it.

Officer: miss, please just stick to the facts.

SM: fine. I thought we were being real here? Anyway, I could hear voices in the hall outside my office yelling at everyone to stay out of the way and no one had to get hurt, that we didn't have to protect The Boss anymore. They were saying we could finally be free if we would just mind our own business. I really almost peed myself in relief. You can sigh all you want by I want it on record that despite what Keith in accounting says, I did not fully piss my pants. Right. Nothing. No laughs? You must be fun at parties. Ok so, I was still pretty scared, but I'm also insanely nosy--i mean just look at my screenshots album at all the other people's drama. I crept out from under my desk and over to the window to see if I could watch what was going on.

Officer: what could you see from your office? It's near The Boss?

SM: not like right across the hall, but I could definitely see in his office if I got in just the right spot. I got plenty of dirt on him that way. So that's where I went which is, to my benefit obviously, not really easily spotted by someone in the hallway or his office unless he's standing by his personal coffee maker that he never used because he made Debbie in sales go get him coffee at least twice a day but got mad if she got anyone else anything because his coffee wouldn't be boil your skin off temperature.

Officer: ok back to your story

SM: listen it's not a story. This is what actually happened.

Officer: you all do realize it sounds more like something out of movie that you all wrote together though, right?

SM: sure but that doesn't make it any less true. Or funny. God, it's so funny.

Officer: ma'am, a man died. Shouldn't you have a little decorum?

SM: oh yeah right. Have you ever met The Boss? No? Don't tell me about decorum then. Fuck that. He was an absolute monster. Whatever. So when I looked out the window there was a group of 4 people. 3 men, 1 woman. She looked, well, a lot like that game tombraider. Tight, kinda casual dommy mommy clothes? A gun in hand. Slicked back pony tail. Dark hair. 1 man was not white and was wearing camo and had a rifle. I'm not great with guns. One of the white men or at least more white? What's the correct way to say that? Either way, he wore all black and had blonde hair. And one had reddish brown hair and wore a long deep brown duster. I couldn't see much else about their faces or their weapons. When they entered the office there was a whole lot of yelling. I couldn't make it all out but they fanned out like they were facing their greatest enemy and then opened fire. The Boss fell to the ground, and I swear I heard this music play, like victory music? But I don't know. I couldn't have right? Right?

Officer: I don't know, miss. Did you or didn't you?

SM, low: I think I did.

SM: and that was it really. The group started to turn around and I ducked. I wasn't taking any chances after that. There wasn't much of anything after that except they were celebrating on the way out and kept screaming they finished the level. "Good game, good game." And congratulating each other on not having to kill anyone else. And then they shouted BE FREE, MINIONS. ... But like, we hated him? How were we his minions?

Officer: if I were you I'd be more worried aboute thinking you're a murderer not a minion

SM: I tell ya...I thought about murderering that man in a million different ways. At least. But I didn't do this. None of us did it. Check the cameras. I know, KNOW, he watched us.

Officer: we will, we will. But until then don't leave the city. you're free to do whatever it is you do otherwise

SM: yeah. I finally am.

_______________________

Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:


Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com/

On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog.html/

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch

What TF Sarah https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com

Conversations with Death part 2

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are: masked, singer, popcorn, whatchamacallit, and snow owls

They were submitted by: https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com/

_________________________

Death sits in the middle of the floor surrounded by cats. He always sits on the floor. He says it fits more cats. One time, he actually patted the floor and said I CAN FIT SO MANY CATS IN THIS INFANT. It took me a minute to realize he was referencing a meme, should have said BABY not INFANT, and wasn't, in fact, talking about feeding cats to kids.

Listen, it's not the weirdest shit he's ever said since I started explaining internet culture to him. But he's trying.

Anyway, he sits in the floor and he is absolutely covered in cats and cat hair and a dog too who either loves him like they do or is thinking mightily about stealing a femur. I select an episode of The Masked Singer at his request and push play. We have coffee. We have snack packs and a couple whatchamacallits and popcorn. We're good.

He even brought a pair of snow owls shakers full of his special curry spice blend. Curry is his favorite. And curry popcorn ain't bad. Don't knock it til you try it.

"So tell me why again you wanted to watch this show?"

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANIMALS DOING MUSIC WITH ROCKS IN BEFORE.

A giant seahorse had taken the stage doing a version of Ocean Man by Ween. I mean, odd choice for this show, but ok. Why not WAH? Wet Ass Horsey? I didn't say this out loud, however, because I had a hard enough time explaining Ben Shapiro memes. I can't handle doing that whole song with him.

He bobbed a little to the tune and dare I say hummed? a little. I mean I have never heard him as much as I thought him. That doesn't make sense but literally none of this does. Basically, his part of the conversation just appears in my head like I've heard it but he didn't actually say it out loud. So there were some vibrations that I would think are humming, but who knows.

"Are you familiar with this song then?"

The vibrations stopped. He shrugged a little.

IT'S CATCHY.

I mean, he's right, but I literally cross my fingers hoping he won't ask about what it means because I played Sturgill Simpson's Turtles All the Way Down thinking he'd appreciate it...but instead I spent like 2 hours afterwards explaining drugs before I gave up, and I don't have that in me today.

He turns back to the tv. Commercials are on. I can't fast forward because I'm broke and have basic hulu, but these days I'm kinda glad I can't. These might be his favorite part of watching anything. Maybe they make him feel less...alone? I didn't realize the levels of absurdity we'd gone to. Capitalist fever dreams. So when I can't explain why a vampire at a therapist is a great way to sell auto insurance, I get a sense that he's kind of relieved that we are both left haunted by the inescapable Lovecraftian horrors of modern advertising.

The show continued on with Death pretty enraptured by the teddy bear, peacock, lemur, and alligator singers who graced the stage with their short performances, but there wasn't anymore humming. After the final break, the winners and losers were announced. When that lemur pulled its head off and revealed the human inside, I knew from the flame of blue that lit up the room from Death's eyes that we were going to have to have a major conversation.

I grabbed his as the words hit me.

WHAT IN THE FUCK

"Uh....i think I might be rubbing off on you. You don't say that word."

IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT FITS.

"yeah tell me about. Sometimes it is."

SO. WHAT IN THE FUCK?

"You know what? I'll explain, but we definitely need more coffee first."

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Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado https://bakinginatornado.com/

Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/

The Crazy Mama Llama https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com/

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

Conversations With Death

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 6 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

 My subject is: all or nothing. 

It was submitted by: https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

My only explanation is that I've been reading Discworld and Death is my favorite and my cats all did these things. 

                            _____________________

Death, the real Death and friend of Sir Terry Pratchett, stood beside me looking out the back window at the rising sun, both of us with hot mugs of peppermint mocha coffee warming our hands in the cool winter morning. This guy. We'd been hanging out regularly when he had some down time, and it was finally time to have a talk. THE talk. 

"listen, we have to talk about the cats thing"

THE CATS THING?

"Yes. Cats. Your obsession with cats"

I AM DEATH. I DO NOT OBSESS OVER CATS.

"Listen, I've read the books. I know what you told Ipslore the Red about cats being the only thing that makes life worth living. I've read them all."

"IF, SAY, I DID BELIEVE SUCH A THING, WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE THE PROBLEM. YOU HAVE SO MANY?

"I knew it! I knew that's why you liked to visit here."

BUT NOT THE ONLY REASON. YOU DO MAKE A COFFEE TO DIE FOR.

"Always with the puns, you."

I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN.

"Oh I think you do. You're, uh, eye flames or whatever flash a deeper blue when you're being coy.

I SPEND TOO MUCH TIME HERE. WHAT ABOUT THE CATS?

"Do you know what they did yesterday?"

OF COURSE I DON'T.

"That was a rhetorical....Anyway, they broke into my refrigerator and stole the good turkey!"

WHAT IS GOOD TURKEY?

"The really delicious, thick turkey for sandwiches that costs me too much money..."

SO DEFINITELY DELICIOUS TO CATS?

"Well, yes..."

AND YOU DO NOT SHARE?

"No, it's for me, duh."

HMMM. THEY MAY HAVE REASON TO THIEVE IT FROM THE REFRIGERATOR THEN, DONT YOU THINK?

"ok then how about the time they broke into the bathroom and ate toilet paper and threw it up everywhere?"

WHAT?

"They somehow got the door open to basically the outhouse and ate some toilet paper and threw it up all over the carpet."

WHY DO YOU HAVE PAPER FOR YOUR TOILET? DOES IT HELP IT TO WORK?

"It's for...nevermind. Nevermind. What about the time one of them peed on the stove?"

PERHAPS ALL THE BOXES FOR THEIR BUSINESS WERE OCCUPIED?

"But why the stove??"

WELL, IT IS THE CLOSEST TO THEIR BUSINESS ROOM IS IT NOT?

"Ok then. Ok. Ok. what about the time Seymour started throwing up while pooping in one of their 'business boxes' and ran out while still pooping all the way to the carpet to finish pooping and threw up at the same time all while making eye contact with me?!

IS MY LITTLE ORANGE BOY OKAY? IS HE SICK? HIS LIFE TIMER IS STILL RATHER FULL.

"...he's fine. You know how he is."

YES. HE IS DEFINITELY A LITTLE ON THE SICKLY SIDE. BUT SO ARE MANY OF THE OTHERS. FOR SOMEONE COMPLAINING ABOUT CATS, YOU HAVE TAKEN ON THE HARDEST TO CARE FOR.

"Yes, but I mean...can't you see they're little demons and not exactly the only thing that makes life worth living? They are stubborn and difficult and forces of destruction."

OH THEY CANNOT BE DEMONS. I KNOW DEMONS. DEMONS ARE NOT THIS DOCILE.

"Docile? These assholes? Are you kidding me?"

TRUST ME. YOU DO NOT WANT ACTUAL DEMONS. DEMONS, UNLIKE CATS, ARE ALL OR NOTHING. YOU EITHER BEND TO THEIR TOTAL EVIL OR YOU ARE CRUSHED INTO NOTHING.

I take a moment to glance his way. His eyes glow a serene blue. He's not in any way being facetious even though he just exactly described my horde. And as the cats come up in ones and twos to get some ear scritches and skeletal blood and show love the best they can to our guest and then to me so I'm not left out, I suppose they are pretty rad even though they are, in fact, demons. I had been thinking he was too easily fooled by their cuteness, but maybe I was being a little too harsh in my frustration. I'd certainly gotten highly skilled at cleaning carpets and upholstery, and you never know when that might come in handy...

I sat my mug on the counter and reached down to pick up a grey ball of fluff who nuzzled my neck and gave me a polite little meow. And if he could, I swear, Death would be purring himself.

                         ____________________

Here are the other posts for today. Please enjoy:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com/2020/11/going-and-gone-secret-subject-swap.html

Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

A ‘lil HooHaa https://hoohaa.com/

The Crazy Mama Llama https://crazymamallama.blogspot.com

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2020/11/secret-subject-swap-family-traditions.html

Take It Easy, Beezy

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are: duvet, handle, sky, trampoline, and project. They were submitted by: https://followmehome.shellybean.com

This is probably not the kind of story that comes to mind when you see this list of words, but I already had the idea for it and wanted to get it written, so here we are. the words fit perfectly.

___________________________________

It started innocently enough with me waking up to my cat sitting on my chest on top of the duvet. She was bent over close enough that I could smell her ocean-whitefish breath and staring me down like I’d just stolen the last hairball treat in her stash. The whole scene kind of creeped me out a bit. Who likes being watched while they sleep? Sometimes I snore, though, so I figured she had heard me and wondered if I was possibly dying, and I just happened to catch her at the moment she’d leaned in to check. She’d been with me long enough to know my quirks, but cats can kind of be sensitive about those things, so I gave her a few pets and reassuring words, then rolled over and promptly fell back asleep.

In the light of morning with all traces of darkness fading from the sky, it was nothing more than a hazy feeling of weirdness that I soon forgot as the chorin’ for the day wore me down and kept me busy.

But then it happened again the next night.

And the next.

And, well, for a whole week every single night I woke up with her green eyes shining down on me haloed by the glare from my Frankenstein night light. I was more than a little creeped out, but I figured she was going through something hormonal and would take her to the vet if she acted out of the norm in any other way.

On night 8, she was quietly meowing in a rhythmic tune while she stared. Like she was chanting… A few nights later, she was moving her paws in circular patterns in the air in rhythm with her little chant. I hated to do it, but it was time to put her out of the room while I slept. So I tried. Didn’t work.

Didn’t work the next night either. Or the next when I actually put her in the kennel I used to take her to the vet and closed her in the guest bathroom.

I wasn’t sleeping. At least not at night. I fell asleep in a team meeting about a new community project at work and got a write up. I fell asleep in the car on the way home one night and almost wrecked the car. I was falling asleep on the toilet, in the elevator, and every time I was still for longer than a moment. I couldn’t handle it. I felt like I used to as a kid when I’d fall on the trampoline at my aunt’s house and all my cousins would keep jumping closer and closer to me so I couldn’t get up. I’d panic and flail and beg them to quit while they laughed and bounced me harder. It was like all the air had been knocked out of me and left me spinning.

It was time for the vet.

Okay, it was probably beyond time for the vet, but that’s where I drew the line. I made the appointment in a sleep-deprived fog, don’t remember the drive there, and stumbled my way through the motions of the sign in wondering just how I was going to explain what was going on. Obviously, I left out the parts about about chanting and paw movements. Who’d believe that? But I at least went through the waking up with her in my face every night and that something just felt…off. The vet had more questions, but I hadn’t changed anything up, no changes to her schedule, same food, same litter, and there were no other symptoms. She got her answers, did the standard checkup, and said everything looked fine and to call if anything changed. Ha. Everything had changed already. Everything was weird and different and fucking scary. I wanted answers for myself. I left feeling defeated and drowning in a web of confusion. She wasn't just any cat, and if something was wrong, I needed to know.

That night, it was more of the same. I didn’t even bother with the kennel or putting her out of the room anymore. What was the point? She’d end up in my face no matter what doing her creepy little stalker thing. It was just part of the routine now. It wasn’t until a couple days later that I felt something more in the room. I wrote it off as sleep paralysis at first. I hadn’t been sleeping well. I was exhausted. Sleep paralysis made sense. I woke up several nights in a row feeling absolutely terrified but unable to see anything at all. I could feel this swirl of anger and resentment pressed into me like a weight keeping me from moving. It was so intense one night I nearly choked, unable to lift my chest enough to get a good breath in.

As the nights wore on, that weight felt more and more real. I thought I could see a shimmering outline of a figure in the corner a couple times, but it was never solid, and I could have sworn I could smell something rotten. I convinced myself I was losing my mind and withdrew from everyone. I took a year’s worth of vacation time from work claiming I had to go in for surgery and basically isolated myself so no one would have to bear witness to my descent into madness.

I kept holding on to the fact that none of this was happening during the day. It kept me hoping that I wasn’t making any of it up or hallucinating it. I wasn’t seeing it all the time or anywhere I happened to be. It was just my room, my bed really, in the wee hours of the morning. Maybe I could figure it out…or maybe I could have if I wasn’t so fucking exhausted.

A couple nights before I had to go back to work I woke up with that same presence and Maude Lebowski (my cat) doing her little thing, but this time, it felt more defined, and the smell was very real. The dread and fear were there, but that weight of anger wasn’t suffocating me. The figure was solid but shrouded in darkness. I couldn’t see features, but it didn’t much matter. As soon as I heard the laugh, I shut my eyes so tight I couldn’t see a fucking thing anyway. Tonight I could move and took full advantage of snatching the covers right over my head. If I can’t see it, it can’t get me. Funny how that kid logic sticks with you when the shit hits the fan.

“Human known as Claire Ramona LaFleur, I have a message for you.”

What in the wide world of fuck? I thought. A message. A message? From who? Or what? What the hell was going on?
I know I whimpered out some kind of mumbled, garbled version of “message?” But it understood fully what I meant and replied in its deep, gravelly voice, “Maude Lebowski has requested that you purchase her the food you used to buy because, and I quote, ‘that new shit is crusty, and I’m not here for it anymore.’”

“What?”

“This is your feline companion Maude, yes?” It pointed.

“uh…yessssss…”

“Maude has summoned me and traded exactly one of her 9 lives in order for me to request that you buy her, and, again, I quote, ‘that good shit.’”

“my cat summoned a….what?”

“Demon. You can call me Beezy though I do think we both hope this night is the end of all this mess.”

“Okay, Beezy. Beezy, Ok. Let me get this straight. Maude has been torturing me for two months with the nightly wakeups and the weird ritual shit and what I can only assume was your presence for at least the last couple weeks. And she did all this because she wants Taste of the Wild not Blue Buffalo? AND it took 2 months to accomplish it?”

“Yes. That is exactly the deal. Also, it took so long because I can’t understand cats very well, and she can’t speak my name or do the symbols very well. It took a lot of tries and a lot of frustration for the two of us to get it together. But she made good on her deal, so I had to complete my end of the bargain no matter how long I took. Here’s the thing though: I’m thoroughly amused now that I can see the look on your face and your reactions, but hear me—I’m done. I want no more of this insanity. Please for the love of everything evil, buy your cat the fucking food she wants.”

And with that, it was gone.

I got myself dressed and made coffee, so I could wait in the parking lot for the nearest pet store to open. I wasn’t going to take any chances on Beezy coming back. Besides, who could sleep in that room smelling so strongly of sulfur and death? 

So that's the story about how I met Beezelbub. As they say, the truth is stranger than fiction.

Oh, and I buy Taste of the Wild every time now no questions asked. I perfectly understand what that says about my cat owning me. But until your cat summons a literal demon into your bedroom, you have no room to criticize.

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Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado  https://www.bakinginatornado.com/2019/03/you-can-do-it-use-your-words.html

The Blogging 911 https://theblogging911.com/blog/

Cognitive Script  https://cognitivescript.blogspot.com/2019/03/that-rascally-rabbit-strikes-again.html 

Southern Belle Charm https://www.southernbellecharm.com

The Bergham Chronicles https://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/

On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/2019/03/almost-home.html

The Crazy Mama Llama: https://www.thecrazymamallama.com/

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2019/03/use-your-words-beige.html

Follow Me Home https://followmehome.shellybean.com

Granny Candy Part 3

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.
My words were: scenario, payoff, lynx, attitude, crucify. They were submitted by: http://theblogging911.com/blog

I really didn't expect to be writing a part 3. I know it's hard for bloggers who don't participate in these challenges regularly to keep up with a multipart story like this, so I was going to leave it with part 2, but these characters have been some of my favorites from any writing I've ever done (the demon story characters too), so when I got these words for the challenge, things just clicked, and here we are. Sorry not sorry.

You can find part 1 here: Granny Candy Part 1 and Part 2 here: Granny Candy Part 2

__________________________

With that attitude of yours, you'll be lucky if my, our, employer does not crucify you. She will not call you Lizzy, for gods' sake, or be bribed with delectable sweets. You must be on your best behavior, answer all questions to the best of your ability, and thank her graciously for her consideration or she may be of a mind to stick you with Uncle Wayne.

"With... with him? That would be torture. I would rather die."

Lizzy. LIZZY. Have we not established you are already dead? Why else are we here?

"Oh. Well, yeah. Right. I'm dead. But can't I, like, blink out of existence? Or blink HIM out of existence?"

No, that is not how any of this works. His exasperation sent a foreboding dread over her skin like it lived and breathed. Can you not answer a few questions for a position you want without being so obstinate and cumbersome? Is it so hard?

"Honestly? Yes. But I'll give it my best shot."

Fine. Fine! Also, I must warn you...if she turns into a lynx, do not scream or run. Think of it as a test you MUST pass or the results will be less than favorable for your continued pain-free existence in this realm. And do NOT under any circumstances call her a pretty kitty and try to pet her.

"I was betting that's how I'd die, you know. Trying to pet a wild animal."

Yes, I lost money on that bet myself.

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?!"

We do not have time for these questions. Follow me.

She did. Mostly out of curiosity. But also because she really didn't want to do anything but annoy Grimmy for all of eternity.

They exited the hotel offices, popped into the elevator, and Grimmy hit the button for the penthouse. The elevator itself was padded with a deep maroon crushed velvet that smelled...well...not quite bad but also a little like death. A little rancid. It wasn't pungent or overwhelming, but it was definitely there.

"Question. If this is a figment of my imagination, the hotel depot, why does it still look like a hotel and not its true form?"

It has no true form.

"Everything does. Doesn't it? It has to."

No, everything does not. I do not. This depot does not. The Boss does not. Also, you have not officially been accepted. This is not exactly protocol, child, so I am unsure if it will change form when you are and are no longer in need of an eternity or if we are now stuck in this licorice vomit garbage dump.

"Licorice vomit?! I would think you would love all this dark shit."

No. No, I do not love all this dark....sh...he groaned. I do not care for the dark shit.

"Grimmy! Did you really just say 'shit?!'"

Hush, child. We are here.

The doors opened into an open floor with pink toned sunset light steaming in through giant windows that lined the opposite wall. Ethereal was the word that immediately came to mind as Lizzy scanned the room. There were filled, mahogany bookshelves lining the remaining windowless walls. The room smelled like old books, sandalwood, and a hint of blood orange. The carpet was cream and somehow glittering with strands of gold. Chaise lounges and deep velvet sofas in hues of red and purple made the room seem cozy while the large gold desk in front of the windows commanded respect.

As they approached, the large leather chair behind it turned to face them, and Lizzy finally caught a glimpse of the Boss.

She had richly umber skin and a crown of natural curls styled in an Afro blow out. Her eyes gleamed with the force of her smile, and every bit of her makeup, fierce and bold, was flawless--bronze eyeshadow, full brows, red lips, highlight that could blind if she stared straight on long enough, and eyeliner wings that could cut.  When her chair stopped it's slow spin to face them, she stood in her stark white, nearly sheer, gown. Everything about her made Lizzy's heart flutter...but when the Boss threw her head back and let loose a throaty, full body laugh, Lizzy's eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she felt absolutely petrified.

It was then, still smiling, that the Boss did her lynx transformation.

Not in all of eternity did Lizzy think this scenario would actually play out in reality. She had been sure Grimmy was trying to put her on edge and make her look like ridiculous in front of the Boss like some weird, old being hazing ritual. But nope. She was not that lucky apparently.

The lynx, Keeper of Secrets that she was, stalked towards Lizzy, ears back and muscles flexing. She paced back and forth in front of her feet, growling.

Kneel, child. Kneel or it gets worse.

Lizzy did as he said, no lip. The Boss immediately stood face to face with her growling again and hissing to bare her fangs. Lizzy trembled, but she didn't move. No running, no fear reaction. She closed her eyes and stayed perfectly still, hoping for the best. Hoping, at least, not to get eaten or swiped into eternity or whatever might happen.

It felt like hours that Lizzy stayed kneeling in darkness before she heard that throaty, life-taking laugh again. She opened her eyes to find The Boss once again in human-esque form in front of her, still face to face. She stared deeply into those richly brown, gold-flecked eyes that seemed so full of answers and waited.

"So you want work, is that it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Ma'am, eh? You don't seem half the little twerp Charon made you out to be when he asked for this interview. Perhaps he was being a bit melodramatic?"

"He has a tendency to do that. ...uh...ma'am."

"You do want the job, though? And it was your idea?"

"Yes, ma'am. It was all me. Grimmy--uh--Charon seems like he will make a great supervisor."

The Boss threw her head back in laughter again. "Grimmy? Oh, this is rich. Give me your hand, child."

Lizzy gulped and looked at Grimmy, but he gave no indication what she should do. She looked at the Boss again whose eyes made demands her voice wasn't needed for and stuck out her hand.

When their skin connected, Lizzy felt its warmth and softness but nothing more. She had wondered if this was some kind of power-giving ceremony in the seconds before she made contact bracing herself for the ferocity of her touch. But it felt like any other hand.

For the Boss, though, it didn't seem like such an easy task. Her eyes rolled back until those all-knowing irises vanished, and her breathing was labored. She sucked in one long, ragged breath and nearly collapsed when it escaped her. Grimmy was at their side in an instant helping the Boss up and to her chair where she sat, back straight as an arrow waiting, Lizzy assumed, for her breath to return to something close to normal.

"I see you are a bit of a twerp, Elizabetha Madeline Forrester. But it does appear it's all in good fun. Your Grimmy here doesn't seem to mind even half as much as he made out. I have to admit, his reluctance to bring you on motivated my agreement to this request more than anything else as I do love to see him annoyed. I feel a bit played now." She laughed more playfully this time. It was light, genuine, and full of warmth more than the power Lizzy had felt from her before.

Lizzy felt a little bolder. "Is there some sort of salary involved?"

The Boss leaned forward no longer smiling and clasped her hands together on the desk primly but not without force. "The only payoff here is my letting you exist. Now if you want to remain on my good side, dearheart, get the fuck out of my office."

Grimmy ran. Lizzy could hardly believe it, but she was close on his heels. Neither of them spoke until the elevator doors closed them into relative safety.

You could not resist opening your big mouth, I see.

"Grimmy, babe, we have all eternity in front of us. Let's not dwell on the past."

They rode the rest of the elevator ride with Grimmy's annoyance surrounding them like a cocoon while Lizzy was doubled over in laughter.

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here are the rest of this week's participants!

Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com/2018/11/regaining-civility-use-your-words.html

On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/2018/11/turn-left-at-fork.html

The Bergham Chronicles https://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com

The Blogging 911 http://theblogging911.com/blog

Cognitive Script https://cognitivescript.blogspot.com/

Part Time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2018/11/use-your-words-yippee-ei-o.html

Sparkly Poetic Weirdo https://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/