Makeover Magic (Part 4/7 - Unconvinced)

 Part 4 - Unconvinced

"I'm working for the housing association," I said, hoping that my hesitation hadn't been too long. 

A second pleasant but filthy face joined that of the smiling man, and with the movement the earthy smell became more prominent. The newcomer seemed vaguely familiar, although beneath the grime and discolouration he wasn't easy to identify. His voice solved the problem; I'd worked briefly with him a few years ago. 

"My apologies for contradicting you, Mister Paul, but I hazard to declare that your words suggest a falsehood. Your presence is undoubtedly due to your friendship of Mistress Jane, I warrant." 

Before I could respond, the smiling man advanced further and two strong hands grasped my upper arms. Oddly I was reminded of hypertension checkups and insistent blood pressure cuffs. Odder still, I found it difficult to speak and was overcome with an unnatural tiredness that grew by the second. My eyes were starting to droop as my captor's voice reached my muddled brain. 

 "Then we must extend our employer's invitation to this fine gentleman. I shall render aid so that his compromised mobility is not a concern. Is that acceptable, dear colleague?" 

 "Most agreeable, dear chap. We will continue to assist this fine example of womanhood." 

 I didn't hear any more. I assume I was engulfed by sleep. 

(To be continued)

Makeover Magic (Part 3/7 - Looking around)

 

Part 3 - Looking around

 

This time we went too far. Or did we? Had it not been for Gia's overwhelming concern I would have said so. Sneaking uninvited into someone's home is something I would most certainly consider intrusive, and had I caught Jane there in anything but her day clothes I would have been mortified. But her apartment was empty. There could have been an innocent explanation but... I'm getting ahead of myself. 

When we arrived at the building Gia went ahead. She climbed up to the open window with her usual feline grace and slipped through. Once inside, she linked her mind with mine, allowing me to share her view of the apartment, one room at a time. 

It wasn't a large place. A small galley kitchen with efficient storage, a compact bathroom, a lemon-themed bedroom with little floor space once the wardrobe, dressing table and single bed were taken into consideration, and a living room that comprised a sofa, one wooden chair, fold-up table, bookshelf, standard lamp and television. 

When we found the TV broadcasting a quiz show to an empty room, then discovered an open door to the corridor and still no sign of anybody, I felt more justified in our actions. 

 I tried the outer door to the apartment building. It was locked. I was trying to decide whether breaking in was an option when I heard the latch move. I stepped back as the door swung inwards to reveal a smiling man, broad-chested and distinctly greasy, the creases in his face dirt-filled, and yes - the facets were tinged with an unhealthy shade of green. 

 He moved forward and I caught the odour of freshly turned loam. His smile grew wider and I saw a gap where his front teeth should be. He spoke. 

 "Good eventide, my dear fellow. May I be of assistance, perchance?" 

 My mind scrambled for a suitable reply. In the delay, I caught sight of two other figures behind him and despite the gloom I was certain they were carrying something. Or someone.  

(To be continued)

Makeover Magic (Part 2/7 - La Giaconda)

 

Part 2 - La Giaconda

I woke at 3am and realised that I wasn't alone. I was being watched by my housemate. She was perched on the window sill, the street light putting her sleek lines into semi-silhouette. Gia - La Giaconda to give her full name - is my cat. To be more accurate, I'm her human. And I'm called Paul, by the way. 

I suppose now is a good time to reveal something about myself. I have abilities. I wasn't aware of them until a kitten appeared in my hallway six years ago. I wasn't planning on having a pet but that furry bundle had other plans. The way she looked at me, the feeling that she was smiling at me - I guess La Giaconda was in control all along. Once we had settled into a degree of domestic comfort, Gia revealed to me our special abilities. We have a sort of psychic link. One aspect of this allows me to see through her eyes. It was unusual at first - hey, it's unusual now - but I've mastered the skill, and with a mental click of a switch I can alter my point of view. Literally. I can even manage to look through both sets of eyes, although overcoming the initial disorientation was difficult. 

So when I say I was being watched by my housemate at 3am, I know that for a fact. For that lump I saw beneath the duvet was me. 

Gia didn't often instigate the link. Her reasons meant she had something to tell me, and that was sufficient to raise me from my bed. She wanted to share more than her vision. She wanted to share her memories. 

Living in a cat's brain is unlike anything else I've experienced, but Gia seems to know what I can tolerate. Maybe that's because she lives in my brain too. I suspect that's why she limited her memories to what she'd seen. 

It was earlier that evening. Gia was making her way across the rooftops near Melvin's Diner. Nearby was the small apartment building where Jane lived, and she was letting herself in following her late shift at work. 

 Gia continued to make her way down to ground level, passing the diner and turning into a side alley. It was still light enough to see three figures detach themselves from the shadows. Soon the late sun would become golden, but for now it's illumination didn't cast any tint on their faces. If they looked dirty and slightly green, the sun wasn't to blame. 

The three men emerged from the alley and one pointed towards the apartment building. At that point, Gia's memory cut off. I was left looking at the cat on my window sill. She gave a short meow. I agreed. We needed to check on Jane.

(To be continued)

Makeover Magic (Part 1/7 - Earthy)

 This is part one of a seven part short story. Given seven "daily writing prompts" to use in the form of opening phrase/sentences, I decided to combine these into a single story. I'm not sure what led to light horror / mystery thriller [if that indeed is what this is (!)] but I hope it satisfies...

Part 1 - Earthy

"Their hands make me want to quit my job and move as far from them as I can," said Jane, shuddering at a memory. I'd not seen her this unsettled since... well, never mind that. 

 "Have they done something in particular?"  

"No, it's not that. They just weird me out."

Jane worked in Melvin's - a small diner near to an industrial site. One of the businesses - Makeover Magic - had been there around six months and no-one really knew what they did. Frankly, no-one was much bothered since they kept to themselves. When they started to take on casual employees for what they called manual work they became of more interest. The new work hands had started to visit the diner about a week ago. 

 Jane leaned towards me as she refilled my coffee. "They are polite, I'll give you that. Oddly so. They all talk the same way, use the same phrases. And I recognise one of them from the old youth club. He never used to talk that way." 

 "So they've got good manners? Is that it?" 

 "You think I'm imagining it?" 

 I regarded the woman before me. I'd known her since my school days and had never thought her overly imaginative. She was a hard-working practical sort, and I admit I liked her. One could be relaxed in her friendly company. If something was worrying her, the odds were that she had good cause. 

 "No, I don't think you're imagining it, but it can't be just their politeness." 

"Well, they smell a bit - earthy." 

 "Earthy?" 

 "You know. If you water your houseplants, sometimes you get a smell of... I don't know... soil?" 

 "Not many houseplants in my flat, but I know what you mean." 

 "And their complexion doesn't look that healthy." 

 "Makeover Magic?" 

 The tension lessened with her laugh. "No, you idiot. I thought at first they just looked a bit grimy, but it's not that. I think they look a bit green."

(To be continued...)

  

Auntie Norma

Past lessons in my creative writing course supplied a Scrabble board with ten pseudo-random words. The challenge was then to incorporate those words in your own piece of writing. On my Android tablet, I play a type of Scrabble game "Cross Craze Free" (highly recommended!), and I thought it would be interesting if I could fit a complete game's worth of words in a piece of writing. This is the result.

Auntie Norma - Cross Craze Challenge

Those who were aware of her at all knew her as Auntie Norma. She could be found in the early part of Wednesday evenings, sitting in the window of that fast food place on Moor Lane, usually making a good job of devouring a plate of fish and chips. I met her one particularly busy night when we had to share a table and we got talking. Thereafter, it became a regular event.

She told me how she’d been involved in Chinese medicine and how there was an art to each potion she’d mix. I even learned the meaning of ‘qi’ beyond its use as a potential high scorer in Scrabble.

The best stories were of her youth, and I recall her description of the time in the States when she’d been loaned a jeep by a character she only knew as “El Capitan”, a member of the Nu-Theta-Kappa fraternity house at the neighbouring university. She had used it to drive to a dance hall at the other side of town. This is how she described the following events:

I remember it was in the late Sixties, and most of my friends were spending time with the guys who were on leave from Vietnam exchanging naval duties for dancing frugs and other dances of the day.

I’d paired up with a sailor called Ed, an ox of a man who had seemed really nice. It started to change once he’d had a few drinks. He started to reveal his ill-bred nature by talking dirty, and I was looking for an avenue of escape when this weedy chap walked up to our table and said “Hi. Ed, isn’t it? If you can’t refine your behaviour, perhaps you should go away and have a kip.”

He appeared so inept that I expected Ed to paste him, but nothing happened. Zilch. Instead of fireworks it was just a damp squib; Ed pushed himself up onto his feet, and then he walked away, his legs stiff-like. He appeared to be leaving a wet trail in his wake.

The weedy chap examined Ed’s seat before sitting. He placed a wax effigy on the table and nodded towards the doorway where Ed was disappearing. “There’s always some leakage,” he said, and beamed the widest smile I’d ever seen.

He told me how he’d studied with a Yogi on the Indian subcontinent, spent some time learning about voodoo in the West Indies, and made secret pacts to learn what his own future holds.

The music and the hubbub around me seemed to diminish to a series of drones. The only clarity was in his voice. He had won my complete attention.

“I was told I would meet my future wife being harassed by a large sailor in a dance hall.”

Re what followed; suffice to say, I still owe El Capitan one jeep.