Chiaroscuro ~ Part 4

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Chiaroscuro

By Kristina L.S.

Life is change. She had; it was all about the challenge now, well the money too, let's not forget that. After all, it's just business, nothing personal at all. Just a way to measure.
 
Chiaroscuro... def... indistinct, shadowy...
 
This is not sweet, there is violence and allusions to child abuse, be aware.

 


 

This is a work of adult fiction.

No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright KLS 2010.

 
 

Chiaroscuro

By Kristina.L.S.

 

Part Four... Assail... def... incursion, offence.
 

Her thoughts kept spiralling back and forth like some sort of weird video loop or maybe a crazed slinky. The face of a small boy, dull and sleepy... and past faces... long lost faces. Faces no one remembered, no one knew to miss or mourn, a brief flicker of light before snuffing out, the universe was a cold indifferent place. Next her own dull eyes staring back as 'he' sought some spark in the mirror, some reason as to why, as if that mattered, there were no reasons. There was no spark for several years because it did not matter and no one knew... or cared if they did... and then a small, glimmer and later a quiet fatalistic flicker that finally became something resembling a sparkle as she broke free. A dark flame in a cavern of memory where small lights blinked and dimmed in turn.

"Aarrgghh." she growled aloud and paced in exasperation. "What is the fucking point of this girl, the world turns and people die in their thousands every bloody day and no one gives a shit. So what has it got to do with you. FUCK... nothing... that's what. Just another kid that never had a fucking chance and the lizards like tender meat." she stood staring out into the valley and saw nothing except a dark cave where a foul creature lived and small lights winked out as it's tongue slithered out and licked them.

"Oh for fucks sake Cass, get a grip. Twilight zone meets the fucking brothers Grimm. Shit!" she paced through the house not knowing what she was looking for and not finding it and finally, realising she stank, headed for the bathroom.

A long hot shower and then a small lunch, but her thoughts kept running in circles. Those eyes were dull and lifeless, she knew those eyes, if not the owner in this case. That was just an incidental, those eyes were her and many others. Just another of many and no concern of hers she tried to tell herself. But it seemed it was not that simple and exasperation warred with a quiet anger. A soft burning outrage that these creatures could be so brazen, so totally uncaring... yet how should that surprise her? She knew what they were, what they did and as far as she knew of the perhaps two dozen kids she had met or known of only she had survived. That only due to some quirk of fate and the possible guilty whim of a twisted benefactor, if such a word could apply here.

She dressed for movement, sports bra and briefs, stretch bodysuit and ski pants in a soft black and soft tan city walking boots over cushion socks and a thigh length soft wool camel trench style coat. The carefully fitted blonde wig set in a pony tail and the slim dark framed clear lens glasses changed her appearance notably. She smirked at the name on the drivers licence and the picture, blondes have more fun huh... not likely girl. The soft brown tote she lifted with a jerk to test for rattles and feel was a little heavier than it looked but nothing outrageous. With a look around she laughed aloud and wondered if she would see this place again, set the alarms and headed out the door without a backward glance and at a medium pace started the three k walk to the train station.

She day-dreamed on the trip in, if such 'dreams' were that, perhaps day-mares fitted more closely. Though to her they were nothing to fear, just memories and memories could not really hurt you, but maybe the actions they nudged you toward could. It wasn't the dragon in the dark that hurt you, it was tripping over the rug as you stumbled awake. With a shake of her head she grinned at just how prosaic such things often were and yet here she was on a train chasing the bloody dragon after kicking the rug aside. Righteous indignation? Jeeezuss girl, you have lost it.

It was a short walk to the small line of five garages she owned and rented out, the income into a local account. They backed up to a group of small businesses in a slightly rundown looking area of the city outskirts. After a quick look around she rolled up the door and checked the car. It was registered in another name again and while in one sense clean in another it didn't exist, being a blend of probably half a dozen similar cars pieced together and worked up to suit her needs. A fairly plain looking ten year old Audi A4 Quattro in a nondescript silver grey. Nothing flash and yet it would be quick and agile as needed, the engine and exhaust carefully tuned to give quiet power. She disconnected the timed trickle charger and shut the bonnet with a gentle thunk and after a another quick visual check partly emptied her bag, tucked it up against the passenger seat front and placed the backups in several plastic bags in the back seat and her spares under a rug on the floor.

There was a momentary whir and cough before the engine caught and settled quickly into a quiet burble, not silent but close enough. Checked the tyres while the engine warmed, pressure good, then pulled out into the laneway and locked the door. She squirmed a little in the seat, settled and adjusted the belt and checked the mirrors and rechecked the seat and steering wheel settings which with a brief chuckle she acknowledged to herself as pure tension induced nerves. Daft bitch, come-on lets go say hi to Nursie and see what's up. She'll be thrilled I'm sure. That thought caused a loud bark of laughter as she slipped the handbrake off, palmed the gear change and pulled away slowly.

It was a little after four and getting dark as she parked just up the road from the small cottage in the inner west and suddenly wondered what she would do if no one was at home. Shit girl, what was that PPP thing, piss poor planning... crap... whatever, you live, you die, who gives a shit. Lets see if we can pull the lizards tail a bit and maybe break a circle. Karma or some such crap... hey, who knows huh.

The knock rattled the stained glass in the door slightly and footsteps could be heard heading along and the door swung open. The almost pretty face of Nurse looked out impassively that changed to a glare suddenly.

"No thanks I don't fuckin' want any so go bother someone else." The door began to swing shut so she stepped into it and pushed.

"Hey, what the fuck...get out of my...." the words trailed away as she stared at the small black pistol held in a gloved hand that pointed her way.

"Don't remember me then Nursie love, I'm hurt. Ah no matter, where's the boy?"

"What boy, what are you on about, who are you?" It was almost amusing watching the confidence return as she thought she could bluff it out. The picture on the prepaid phone screen held up to her face stopped her cold.

"That boy." She grinned as Nurse blinked and licked her lips as her eyes darted about looking for some answer or response or maybe escape.

"Count of three Nursie dear. Where? Judge, Barrister, somewhere else?" The flick of the safety seemed quite loud and was pure melodrama.

"One, two..."

"Okay.... You're too late whoever you are." The lunge was given away by her eyes and Cassie without a blink stepped slightly back and watched the bullet hit her just to the right of the sternum. Nurse stopped cold and slumped backwards and then dropped with a cough to lie stunned on the floor with a small trickle of blood on her lips.

"Where and I call an ambulance, otherwise I guess maybe ten minutes and you drown you cold bitch."

Another small cough brought a further trickle, "…. Builder... Builder has him, work site... Sussex Street car park... please..." The cough of the pistol sounded louder than it was was and nurse looked up accusingly and then her eyes dulled.

"I lied."

Placed a clear plastic wrapped bundle on the hall table the red curly ribbons and small card with 'to whom it may concern' written on it. Visible was a couple of slim CD cases and a folded sheet of paper. She quickly searched the house and left quietly closing the front door softly behind her.

Twenty five minutes and she parked up a block down from the site, it had taken a few minutes cruise up and back around to pick which car-park and it was a renovation site seemingly shut down for the day. But a gate was open and a quiet compressor could be heard. It took a minute of careful observation to spot Builder looking down casually and gazing about from a walkway one level up. She slipped in as he turned and paced making a call and made her way to him, the slight sounds masked by the compressor noise.

He was leaning again as she got close, he stood abruptly and blinked in surprise.

"What are you doing here lady this is a closed building site, you can't be in here, please leave." As with Nurse his attention was suddenly taken by the long but small pistol she waived is his direction.

"Hello Builder ", he blinked at that name, " Nurse sends her regards, I'm looking for the boy."

His face went a little pale and he glanced down and to the side where some pre-set form work was slowly being filled by a concrete pump , the compressor sound she realised.

It wasn't until she stood over him and heard the dull click that she realised she had emptied the five remaining rounds into his face and number eight pull on that mag hit empty. With a deep breath she looked about and noted the spray of blood, fortunately none on her as the angle was wrong. She hadn't been close enough until that last empty shot. Damn girl, get your shit together, it's done.

Grabbing his left arm she flipped him sideways and with a shove sent him with a slither followed by a dull thud down on top of the form work he had been watching. Someone had obligingly swept up and she kicked the loose cement dust and dirt over the marks she had left, it took a few minutes to find the shed and slip on a nylon cover suit and with a bit of effort pushed his body between the gaps of the wire twist tied metal rods and took care to fit him centrally so he would be fully surrounded and hidden. There was no sign of the boy, but she didn't expect any. It took almost an hour for the cement to fill the wall space and she killed the compressor and using a plank of wood smoothed the surface to match the neighbouring section.

She stripped off and pushed the nylon suit into a garbage bag, left another plastic wrapped package on the desk in the site shed and left. The garbage bag went into a skip bin up the road at another site. It took her a few minutes to figure out what she was feeling, a cold churning in her stomach.

Settling into the drivers seat she took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then deliberately refilled the empty mag and slipped it back into place and swapped with a cold weapon from the spare pair in the floor rug stash.

"Ah Cassie girl, emotion, there's no place, it gets you hurt. Lets go pay a visit to the lizard lounge eh." she muttered quietly shaking her head at her own insanity. Fancy that, a bloody 'lounge', who'd a thought. Maybe some bastard was taking the piss on Wiki, but hey, who was she to argue, it fit.

"Clock's a tickin' girl", Game on... she smiled coldly, started the car, flicked on the headlights and pulled away.

 
 
…. to be continued... if there's interest. I'm winging it as a way to try and write, so... might not be my greatest effort but it's something. Sometimes you need to play in the dark, so it doesn't bite you.
 

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Comments

Chiaroscuro ~ Part 4

She is a Bloody Street Angel, very much in the mold of other avenging angels in fiction. will be fun to see what happens now.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

A Guile Of Goannas

joannebarbarella's picture

Seems far more appropriate than a lounge of lizards. The latter sounds far too innocent and innocuous.

Well, Cassie can't stop now, can she?

If she gets to the centre of the nest she may find more than a few victims. What then? I don't want to second-guess Kris, but I can see a result that Cassie didn't intend when she started on her mission of mercy.

Redemption?

I loved that bit...."I lied!"

Joanne

Score Draw

I'm sure it's a defect in this reader, but I didn't see the basis for the confidence that Cassie felt that the boy she is trying to save wasn't on the building site. Perhaps a few more words of description expressing the lack of need to even search?

Well, if Nursie lied, I guess they're even on that score!

not clear

kristina l s's picture

I guess that's my fault, being spare with the words. Nursie didn't lie, she died, Cassie did, she shot her. As for the boy, oh he was there... Builder went pale and glanced down and Cassie emptied the clip into his face. Why would she react that way? Why was builder alone after hours doing work he should not be, at least alone, but he's the boss, so... err, was the boss. Now as Cassie said...game on and maybe as Jonelle mentions below I should get her a yellow jump suit.

Thanks for the comments guys

Kristina

Oh-Ho!

So the Boy was getting into building, taking up concrete, being given a solid foundation by Builder, becoming a cornerstone of his community...

Ewwwww!

Actually...

kristina l s's picture

... I didn't think 'Bill', though I suppose there is a parallel of sorts. I guess more the feel of that Tom Cruise Hitman thing, though I can't remember the name. Quentin is pretty cool, but often a little hyper real, comic book, I try for more mundane reality in most things. I'm using the serial format as a pressure to write something and sort of knew where it would go, if not exactly. Now I more or less do... more or less...

This might not be my greatest effort, but I try not to repeat myself too much and if it gets dark... well things do at times. I did not expect it would be hugely popular and I wasn't wrong. That's cool though. I did consider blogging the whole convoluted thought process and the steps and touch points to how this one came to be. It was a little odd in places which fits, but... shrug.

To those few that comment it is always appreciated. Even the odd one that I may not quite see where it's coming from, hey that works both ways I'm sure. Questions, critiques, whatever, it's all good. Maybe I'll write something sweet sometime, ya never know. Hmm, emotion sure, feel, mood, absolutely, but sweet? Sigh, probably not. Not sure I can do sweet. Oh well.

One more bit I think. Soon.

Kristina

It was just the martial arts/vengeance thing...

[email protected] ..that reminded me of 'bill'. As far as darkness goes, dark can be good. I had an English Prof in college that told us to 'write what we know'. Unfortunately, for many of us that tends towards the tragic. I do love some of the sweet/sentimental tales here. For me they offer true escapism, a glimpse of what might've been and just the slightest glimmer of hope. If I need a good cry I know I can always count on 'Drea DiMaggio to flush out the tear ducts. Others supply a well needed chuckle. That's what I love about this site. No matter what your mood, there's so much variety you can always find something that suits it, or reverses it, if need be.

I've actually been thinking of writing a story myself. I'm just not sure I can get through it though. It's slightly sweet/ sentimental, very tragic, and extremely autobiographiical. I know It's someting I need to do, but just thinking about it causes me to break-down. If I do manage to get it done, it'll show up in the fall since it's centered around Halloween.

Anyhow, Thanks again for your story. Looking forward to the conclusion.

Jonelle.

More to Come

Call it what you will, justice, vengeance, etc. The shadow will now bring light to the darkness. I wander what was on the CDs?

More please.

As always,

Dru

As always,

Dru