Two Souls: Into the Fire # 302

Warning … adult content

***

Ghost grabbed Terry’s arm, trying to make him stop driving. The car fish-tailed, almost going off in the ditch.

“God dammit,” Terry yelled, turning the steering wheel, bringing the car back under control. Shaking and pulling his arm away from Ghost’s grip, he finally broke free. But, Ghost came at him again, grabbing his hair, and hitting him hard. Terry had one hand on the wheel, but managed to reach up, yanking on Ghost’s hair, pulling him off of him, once more.

It didn’t last long, as Ghost continued scrabbling at him, so Terry elbowed him away, this time, hitting Ghost ‘s face, splitting his lip open against his sharp, broken tooth. Blood splattered out of his mouth, as he shouted, right up in Terry’s face.

“Stop…stop the car, Terry.” He sprayed drops of blood on Terry’s face and shirt.

“You fucking maniac,” Terry hollered. “No wonder Steve has had enough of you…get the hell off me.”

“No…I’ll kill you before you ever kill Steve,” Ghost said.

By this time, they were on the long dirt road leading to the house. It was soaked and muddy, and the car almost got stuck, spinning the wheels, and sliding sideways, just before gaining traction again, there on the gravel driveway. Terry managed to brake, and cut the engine, even as Ghost kept hitting him, wherever he could.

As Terry reached for the door handle, Ghost shoved him hard into it. He felt his pistol fall to the floor-board, but managed to grab it in his left hand. Pointing it right in Ghost’s face, he yelled, “Back off, or I’ll pull the trigger, Ghost…I swear I will.”

Ghost stopped for only a second, his blood splotched face, and hair mere inches from Terry’s. He was breathing hard, his hot breath fogging the windows. Then, he growled, low in his throat, as he tried to bite Terry.

“He’s possessed by the devil…” Terry thought, as he dodged Ghost’s teeth, and managed to open the car door, and falling sideways out onto the gravel. As he fell, the gun went off, the noise shattering the night, the bullet going up into the air. Stunned, they both gasped.

Then, scrabbling up, Terry jerked Ghost out of the car, dragging him up onto the porch steps, where he shoved Ghost down.

“Steve,” he yelled. “Steve…here’s your fucking boyfriend. Ya hear me in there?”

Frowning at the noise, Steve opened the door. “What the hell, Terry?”

“I came here to kill you for hurting Ghost, but I changed my mind. I’m killing this psycho instead,” Terry yelled. “If ya got something to say, better do it quick.” He pointed the gun down at Ghost, who tried to crawl away, but Terry stomped on his back, laying him flat.

Steve charged, but stumbled over Ghost, falling face first down the steps. Terry jumped out of the way.

“God help ya, you both deserve each other,” Terry said, shaking his head. He turned, went back to the car, and sprayed gravel and mud, as he careened down the muddy road.

Steve, still reeling from the alcohol, pulled himself up. Ghost lay there trying to catch his breath, staring up at the sky.

“Ghost?” Steve asked. “You okay?” When Ghost didn’t answer, Steve reached down, pulling Ghost up. “Let’s go in…it’s raining again.” Leaning on each other, they went slowly up the steps, letting the screen door slam behind them. They made their way down the hallway to Ghost’s bedroom, where they both collapsed onto the bed.

They remained there in each other’s arms the rest of the night.

~

Terry made it back to town, driving up to his apartment in back of the Whirling Disc record store. He shut off the engine, and just sat there, staring out at his front door. He was shaking all over. Glancing over to the passenger seat, he saw his gun lying there. He didn’t want to touch it. Breathing deep, to calm himself, he couldn’t stop his racing mind. What had happened tonight kept playing over and over, ending with his pointing the gun in Ghost’s face…not once, but twice.

“God help me…I was this close…this close to pulling the trigger and killing Ghost,” he said aloud. “And Steve, too. What the hell happened out there…what started it all?” The scenes began to replay again. Finally he reached for the gun, and slid out of the car. His knees feeling rubbery, he made it to his front door, and went inside. He didn’t sleep at all that night.

***

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Next part coming soon!

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace

© 2019 BS

***

This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and original elements of this story are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

Two Souls: Into the Fire # 301

Warning … adult content

***

“Hey,” Terry hollered into his phone. “Is that you, Steve? Hello?” He was still half asleep, and confused, but kept on yelling, as he could hear Steve making noises. Finally, Steve heard him, but he’d dropped his own phone, when he fell. He could hear Terry, somewhere in front of him, so he felt around in the dark, until his hand brushed against the phone.

“Terry,” Steve croaked out, then coughed, as his stomach roiled, almost making him sick. “Terry, find him. Tell him I didn’t mean to hurt him again. Make him come back.”

Frowning, Terry asked, “What the hell, Steve…what’s wrong? I don’t know what you’re talking about…slow down.”

“Ghost…I need him…and I’m drunk…and you have to go get him,” Steve said.

“Where is he? Are you at home?”

“Yeah, and he’s at Kinsey’s, unless he’s gone. Please don’t let him be gone.”

Then, it registered what Steve had said…that he’d hurt Ghost again. Terry immediately remembered that other time when Steve had hurt Ghost.

“God damn you, Steve, if you went and hurt Ghost again, you’re a dead man. I will personally do it myself,” Terry vowed.

“Just go find him,” Steve said. “Tell him I’m sorry, and bring him back here, please.”

“Oh, I’m gonna find him, but I sure as hell ain’t bringing him back to you, you bastard,” Terry yelled. He then hung up the phone.

“No…no…wait,” Steve cried into the phone, but it did no good.

~

Terry scrabbled some jeans and boots on, threw on a jacket, and ran out the door, immediately getting soaked from the rain. He didn’t really notice much, as he ran down the block to Kinsey’s place. He’d remembered to take his keys to the back door, and unlocked it as fast as he could. Standing just inside the hallway, he thought it odd that there was no noise, no lights, no sign of anything wrong.

He wondered where Ghost could be, if he was actually here in the club. First, he looked into the office, and then the bar area, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Looking up to the apartments upstairs, he didn’t want to wake everyone, if he didn’t have to. Then, he remembered the back room where there was a big couch. He’d slept there many times, himself.

He opened the door slowly, not knowing what condition he’d find Ghost in, if he was even there at all. The room was totally dark, as there were no windows, and the electricity was still out. He strained his eyes, peering into the depths of the room, toward where he knew the couch was located. Taking small, shuffling steps, he worked his way over, hands out, feeling for anything he might bump into.

Then, as his knees touched the couch, he whispered, “Ghost? Are you here?” Feeling around lower, his hands touched something soft…a blanket he figured. Poking some more, he felt an arm. “Ghost…” he said aloud. He gripped Ghost’s arm, and shook him. Ghost screamed in pain and shock.

“It’s just me…Terry…it’s okay…wake up, dude.”

Ghost sat up, holding his arm to his chest. He could feel his wrist throbbing now.

“Dammit, we need some light in here,” Terry said. “You awake…you okay…are you hurt?” Terry asked in Ghost’s direction, as he still couldn’t see him.

“I’m awake,” Ghost said through gritted teeth. “My wrist hurts, that’s all, and you scared me.”

“Come on, let’s go out to the bar. At least there’s a window. Do you have any idea where a flashlight or candles are around here?” Terry asked.

“In the office, I seen some,” Ghost said. He reached out until he found the edge of Terry’s jacket, and pulled himself up. They carefully walked out into the main room, then down the hall. The thunder and lightning were still crashing outside, and they could see where they were in the bright flashes.

In the office, Terry rummaged around in the desk drawers, finally finding a flashlight. He flicked it on. Ghost sat on the office couch, watching Terry.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Terry said. He sat in Kinsey’s swivel chair, behind the desk. “Steve called me. That’s why I’m here. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Ghost shook his head, and looked down at the floor.

“Why are you here, instead of at home?” Terry asked.

Ghost shrugged. “‘Cause Steve hates me. He told me to go away. He wouldn’t even look at me no more.” He began sobbing.

Terry narrowed his eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

Ghost didn’t answer.

“DID HE HURT YOU? … GOD DAMMIT, ANSWER ME.”

Ghost nodded. “Yeah, but he didn’t mean to. It was the omen that did it.”

Terry stood up, pushing the chair back hard against the wall. “He’s dead. I’m getting my gun. I’ll tell you when it’s over,” Terry said, and stomped out the door of the office.

Ghost was too shocked to say anything. It had happened too fast. He heard the back door open and then slam shut. “Wait…wait…” he screamed. Stumbling as he ran down the hall, he yanked open the door, but Terry was gone.

Thunder crashed again, and lightning lit up the parking lot. Ghost flinched as the cold rain stung his skin, but he splashed through ankle deep water, as best he could, down to Terry’s house. “Oh God, oh God…I have to stop him…”

Just as he came to the corner of the building, he saw Terry getting into his car, and backing out. “Stop…” Ghost yelled, as he closed the gap, reaching the driveway right in front of Terry’s car. As the car rolled forward, Ghost slammed his hands down on the hood, feeling pain shoot up his wrist and arm.

“What the hell?” Terry yelled, as he braked hard, throwing Ghost off, and onto the pavement. He jumped out, pulling Ghost up. “Get in the fucking car,” he yelled, pushing Ghost ahead of him. “

“Don’t shoot Steve…don’t kill him,” Ghost screamed.

“Shut the fuck up,” Terry yelled back. He kept driving down the rain slicked highway.

***

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Next part coming soon!

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace

© 2019 BS

***

This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and original elements of this story are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.

Two Souls: Into the Fire # 300

Warning … adult content

***

Steve opened another can of beer, as he drove the five miles home. Pulling up on the graveled driveway, he cut the engine of his T-bird, and just sat there a few minutes. Dew was already forming on the grassy areas by the house, with a slight fog twining around the base of the pine trees. They’d left no lights on in the house, when they’d left earlier that afternoon, so that now, looking at the darkened little cabin, seemed a bit eerie.

Only unseen crickets and frogs could be heard, somewhere out in the woods. Steve had the feeling that something was watching him. “I’ve been around Ghost too long, thinking spooks are everywhere, watching us while we sleep…we’d never know…” He shivered, as a sudden chill overtook him. It seemed way too quiet…even the air felt heavy with foreboding.

Shaking his head of this line of thought, he got out of the car, slamming the door, hoping maybe the noise would scare away any lurkers out there among the trees. Stepping on the sagging porch steps, he pulled open the old screen door, hearing it’s familiar squeak. Inside he flicked on the table lamp, chasing away the gloom, in the house.

Spirit came out of the bedroom, to rub against his legs. Bending down, Steve patted the cat’s head. “Hey, cat…you hungry?” Spirit walked to the front door, sniffing the night air. He looked back and meowed. Steve knew immediately what the cat was asking…’where’s Ghost?’.

“Aww, kitty, Ghost didn’t come home tonight. He’ll be back later on, though.” He went into the kitchen to get food for Spirit. “Here ya go,” he said, setting the dish down in the living room by the couch. He hefted the 30-pack of beer up onto the coffee table, and proceeded to crack open one after the other.

After a while, he headed off down the hall to the bathroom, only staggering a little bit, but bumping into the little hall table, he knocked off one of Ghost’s geodes. It rolled a bit back and forth, as he tried to focus on it. “Shit,” Steve said aloud. From the corner of his eye, though, he thought he saw a shadowy form slither into Ghost’s bedroom.

“What the hell? Ghost?” He frowned, at the image he thought he saw, but couldn’t wait to use the bathroom any longer. He was getting jumpy, now, all alone here in the house, hallucinating things. He finished up, then peeped into Ghost’s room, just to check things out. He admitted to himself, that he was a bit scared of what he’d find. Standing at the threshold, he took note of the glowing stars on the ceiling, and the faint smell of dried roses, but saw no weird shadows. Shaking his head, he went back to the couch.

The voices in his head had been quieted somewhat, but now they returned, worse than before. Closing his eyes, he muttered, “What have I done…what have I done?” And then, he cried.

After a while, he scraped his arm across his face, wiping away his tears. He tried to get his thoughts in order, trying to make sense of all that had happened. A hand reached out for another can of beer, and in a moment of clarity, he was surprised to find it was his own, bringing beer after beer to his mouth to guzzle down, one by one. It seemed unattached to him.  He could now feel a darkness creeping into his field of vision, as his head swam with dizziness. Falling to his side, on the couch, he lay there, letting the darkness take over. Then the dreams began.

Just as before, he could see images flashing one after another. Images of his life, of Ghost, of everything good and everything bad, stopping only for a bit longer look at certain times. He felt again, the deep depression of the years without Ghost, and how he’d been on the verge of ending it all, when Ghost came back that night.

He startled awake, a bright flash of lightning struck close by, it’s silvered electricity, splitting a nearby tree. The following crash of thunder, shook the house…but he didn’t care anymore. He only felt the same crushing despair as on that night so long ago. Abruptly sitting up, he shouted, “No! It can’t happen again.”

He rolled himself off the couch, and onto all fours. Then, bracing his hands on the coffee table, heaved himself up. He almost blacked out again, but the lightning flashed just then, jump starting his heart to a pounding rhythm.

“Why are you tormenting me?” he shouted at the thunder.

Spirit hissed, and ran for cover under the bed in Ghost’s room.

“God, if you’re punishing me, go ahead. I don’t care…I deserve it. I’m a horrible person. I took a vow that I’d never hurt Ghost, again, but I have. I know it, you know it…so strike me with your lightning. Do it now…just do it. Just bring Ghost back to me one more time. I have to tell him I didn’t mean it. I don’t want him to go away.” He was sobbing now, staring up toward the ceiling. “I love him. Is that so wrong…is it? It can’t be. You put our souls together before, so many times; there has to be a reason why. Don’t let this be the last time…please,” he begged.

He’d been pacing as best he could around the living room. The electricity had been knocked out with the storm, leaving the house in darkness, again. He tripped over the empty beer cans on the floor where he’d tossed them, falling to his knees, getting back up. Hail now began hitting the roof, and rain was being blown inside through the screen door. Another crack of thunder and lightning resulted in another pine tree across the way to be struck, with sparks flying through the wind.

“This is Armageddon…or hell…I think I’m in hell…”

A sudden thought hit him. “Where is Ghost? Is he okay? Is he here in hell with me?” He had to find him, and then remembered his phone. Patting his jeans pockets, he felt it, and scrabbled it out. Trying to focus on the back-lit numbers, he punched the speed-dial for Terry. Then, just as Terry answered, he stumbled again, over a beer can, falling hard.

“Ow,” he yelled, then he couldn’t help it…he began crying…loud, heart-wrenching wails.”

***

***

Next part coming soon!

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace

© 2019 BS

***

This is a work of “fan fiction” based on the novel, “Lost Souls” by Poppy Z. Brite. All credit for the original characters, places, and some backstory mentions, belong to Ms. Brite and her publishing affiliates. Only newly introduced characters, places, and original elements of this story are entirely from my imagination. Character descriptions are a blend of the original book descriptions and my interpretation of them.