It’s about the cigarette and the lousy second floor which seems to be in numerous rugs, which Jamie had stolen from before.
I knock on his door softly, hearing noises which could lead to birth and I knock harder, knowing that they’re both there.
I knock harder, playing with the rugs underneath me, I look at the dark blue one which patterns which could have been a wave and soon enough the older male open the door and he looks if you would illustrate every age he would be under the bad looking 40s.
The rugs have monsters and I battle them with my feet for a while and I see the bed and just out of curiosity I glance and then lean back.
“Jamie, read this.” And I just shove it in his arms and I think about going down, but I just stay here wondering if the rugs hold holes beneath them and Jamie closes the door behind him, walking out, the robe a gray and the slippers stolen from his wife dark purple. He chews on some mint gum, tilting the newspaper sideways.
“Did you get any shit of this?” He asks me as I hear Kate stand up and open the curtains to the endless night. I guess she’d be naked and wondering if she’s not as flat as the walls or a fridge.
“Fuck no!” I scream at him and then I go to his side to see the structure of the sketch myself and dig my hands deeper into the holes of my pockets. Jamie raises the sketch above his head, tilting his head up and I try to get my hands out of the holes, but keep them there, will use scissors and cut my hands off, Jamie should cook some part of my body anyway, I think he does, most likely when I sleep, stroking my hair softly saying Jackie, as if he were Alison.
I wonder if he stole my bones and replaced them with branches as I had seen him look at me from above, humming, holding the usual small knife he uses with a green beaten up skin handle.
Jamie just closes his eyes and dragging his bathrobe with him goes downstairs to just look outside. I follow him to see the street deserted as usual and how the empty houses look from outside unless you open the door and it feels like Christmas with crackers opening everywhere until Jamie heads up to someone, traces a knife around the neck and takes out some vein and then I shoot and he just laughs and starts humming as we stare at the person starve as we share some food between us or gather on their table with the other relatives dead and we just feast as if we can steal Christmas or any day.
We’d walk out.
Like we do now and Jamie just goes in circles, hands in the robe and I just look up at the sky. Then to the edge, to my right and look at the black hanging abyss and the boat which goes back and forth from the dead and alive, someone had liked Greek mythology, that’s what Jamie told me once when he picked up his guitar with fingers covered in blood, saying that we’ll all end up dragging ourselves from the dead some day.
Jamie sits on the beach, how it darkens and goes more moistures the more you reach it and the sand just dissolves into water. Sometimes the imagery is to strong to describe, so I just close and I wonder if we could anything what would we do, maybe once we should just go on and see where the street actually ends as there is nothing behind the houses.
In a house there is another identical to the rest house only once you enter it is smaller and it is a bar indeed and Jamie can see himself there with an apron and a palette to taste the food he does from all the organs he steals. He doesn’t eat them that much, he just leaves them on the plate, some dream he had and that is where the money comes from which just stays there, filling the tills, falling into the abyss we never count.
Jamie said he actually had a client once, just after he had done cooking-
“You think?” And I look at Jamie just playing with his fingers, most likely thinking if he can do a real cat cradle if he tore out his fingers and then run around like a degenerate showing it to his wife who should say how the fuck will he give him pleasure now.
And we both stand up, Jamie offering a cigarette and we enter the house, Jamie taking a hat with earmuffs and sits in the couch fiddling with the knife.
“Well, he eats the meat every day. I think so.” And he tries to do the cat’s cradle with the smoke and fails so he puts on two pairs of sunglasses, maybe to actually try and dare to look terrifying. I just look at Jamie again kicking the floor and seeing the two barrel sticking out, greeting me and I just charge it near the window, opening it and thinking to yell some sort of war cry, but instead I close it and I see Jamie light the fire place with a lighter and burn his white earmuffs slightly.
“And when were you going to tell me?” Jamie just inhales and takes my unfinished cigarette they’ve become quite rare in our closet which is just as bad as the street.
“I thought you figured.” He coughs with the bough tobacco sticks in his mouth and under his tongue.
“No.” I say throwing my gun in the air and catching it as Jamie decides to mimic my move.
“Well, it couldn’t be Kate or the lads who are stuck in their houses, death doesn’t really eat, at least from what I’ve read.” And he points the knife at the bookshelf with a few books making pyramids on each shelf. Jamie stands up and starts twisting the pyramids and I just watch him from a couch near the door.
I close my eyes.
“So you think it’s Pete?” I coughed and Jamie just nods.
“Yeah, who else can be a degenerate to give us a week expired newspaper with our milk and a sketch of our house as a fire plan where should we ru-”
“All the doors are closed.” I say, leaning back as if my whole body is shaking, wondering if I should ditch the creep and just keep going until I reach something which I have actually seen on the globe as a kid as I had sat with black hair
And then Jamie just runs up.
Once we’re there the bed is unmade and a little girl is holding Pete’s hand as he holds a joint with a longer blade than Jamie’s which is a few inches. She looks pre-puberty and we just stare at her and at Pete’s unmade shirt and the blood patches across his skin, his torn hat and he just sits on the bed, taking Jamie’s cigarette’s pressing them against his joint and giving a long breathe in.
“She’s Alison’s and your daughter. Alison’s dead.” Says the druggie, his hand going a bit darker as he holds the girl with all the gift ribbons all over her body and Meg written on the chocolate medallion she holds in her hand and just smiles broadly.
This had also been requested by anons on tumblr as Meg/Jack gore filled multi chaptered. There is more to come and yes, romance between Meg and Jack later on.
Aaaand this is the first chapter of Axe For Cork Extraction. The title actually bothered me for a while and I was flirting it with the idea of calling it cork and then I looked up on wikipedia thinking that I may stumble onto something else and I actually did.
The idea didn't come initially as I wanted some sort of locked setting as a school or a hospital which then came up with Jack shooting people and Jamie cutting through flesh and the idea of Meg being Jack's daughter and a few scenes popped in my head.
I hope you will enjoy it!