punkwalrus (punkwalrus) wrote,

LJ Down? Un-possible!

It might as well have been down, I had to tear my office apart trying to find my 2005 taxes. I have found all taxes, from 1996-2004, and 2006. But not 2005. I know I paid taxes, it's the pookas fucking with me. But during the periods I had to rest, I wrote this because I wanted to write and I have to follow that desire sometimes.

Yeah, I am sure it's full of errors. I was bored, and only gave it an editing once-over. I found tons of errors, which I corrected, but I bet I missed a few. Text may not be SFW, because it has brief descriptions of nudity and some random violence.

There's a stretch of road not unlike any other somewhere in the temperate forests of backwater Americana. A slight sheen accented a yellow stripe in the middle of damp asphalt under the shadow of millions of trees. The steady crunch of gravel announced the appearance of a shape that is uncommon in this part of the county.

The small form of a girl walked steadily on a small stretch of pebbles between the highway and a guardrail. Once in a while, a vehicle roared by her in the fading sunlight. Drivers of these trucks paid little attention to her. Either they didn't see her in their road-weary gaze, or saw the turquoise hair with a purple undercoat, hands thrust deep into the pockets of a black leather jacket, and they speed right on by. Kids these days; might be trouble.

Trouble was on this mind of this small form as she turned off the road into a gravel parking lot of the only building for miles. "Indian Red," said the sign in large red wooden letters on the roof. The sunset now far behind the mountains and the dim twilight kicked on some automatic lights. Two streetlights cast shadows on the few cars in the parking lot and a spotlight that crudely illuminated the sign on the roof, casting shadows on the cartoon native American that made for the logo.

The girl paused. Her jeans were damp from a rain that ended several hours ago. Her small round glasses were dark and reflected the purple clouds in a dying sky. She paused and made some popping noises with her jaw before heading into the only opening in this run-down shack. She passed by some orange windows painted to be almost opaque, but she could see shadows move behind them. The steady thumping of music tickled forth from the cracks in the rotting siding.

The door opened, framing her to the scene inside. Despite the crude and dilapidated decor on the outside, the inside was trim and tidy. Not a single bulb was burnt out, and that was impressive, because there were maybe several hundred flashing and chasing lines of bulbs trimming every edge along the walls and floor. The centerpiece of the establishment was a large stage that probed into the mix of chairs and tables like a lazily unrolled tongue. They were few patrons there, maybe five or so, and all were facing the stage like lions watching elk.

On the stage, undulating her scrawny hips and small naked breasts was a girl who had seen better days, even though she looked barely 21. A few small tattoos decorated her like cloves stuck into a fleshy orange. In the dim orange light, all of the markings looked black. Her patent leather spiked high heels, scuffed from lackluster care, twisted in reflexive response to the music. Her face was a mixture of jaded disinterest and naivete. A lower lip piercing bobbed as her face stood motionless, fixed on an invisible spot far past her life's horizon.

The stranger walked to the edge of the stage, opposite two men on the other side. One was passed out, and his friend looked like he was about to join him. His lust for the dancing figure was replaced with a childlike wonder as a bottle of overpriced Kentucky Whiskey lay on the table behind him.

It took the dancer nearly fifteen minutes to register she had a new client. So rehearsed were her moves, so unexpected she was of a customer she had never seen before, it took the bartender coming to the stranger and saying, "There's a two beer minimum," to her before the dancer realized her routine finally had some spice in it.

If the dancer was more observant, she might have noticed that despite the orange wash that permeated from the stage lighting, the stranger's short spiky hair hair stayed blue with a deep purple underlay.

"I'll have a scotch to start--" began the stranger in a casual tone, never taking eyes of the dancer.

"I said two BEER minimum..." the bartender emphasized. The other two men sitting in the back tables near the pinball machine took notice of their new visitor. The one who had been tilted back in his chair slowly lowered it back to an upright position.

The stranger paused, but never turned her head to face the bartender. "Do you have rum and coke?"

The bartender's face seemed to exhale frustration as his nose hissed deeply into his dirty apron. "I don't know where you are from, I don't know why you're here, but you are a FAR cry from the city, young ma'am."

The stranger paused. Her calm demeanor egged on the dancer, as she knew it would. "Two beers it is, then..." she punctuated, her dark glasses transfixed on the wiggling performer. Her tone suggested she stole the idea from the bartender, a tone which he did not miss. The bartender straightened himself stiffly, turned, and cast a glance the the two men in the back. One of them stood up and leaned on a wooden beam, watching the stranger watch the stripper. The other didn't move, but his chair creaked.

"So..." said the dancer. "Where are you from, sir?"

The stranger cracked a smile. "I am from far away. Miss."

The dancer was sure an older female voice came from the small man in the dark glasses. It unnerved her. She straddled the pole, and swung her back on the stage. Up-side-down, she watch the stranger unzip the leather jacket, and a small pair of breasts confirmed it.

"I... don't get many... girls... here..." she said.

"No," said the stranger. "You don't."

The dancer thrust herself into the pole, and slid up until she had to cross her legs to keep herself steady. She rubbed up and down the pole, licking her lips as she did a headstand. "My name's Tosha," she said. "What's your name?"

The two men from the back followed the bartender, who slammed two bottles on the table next to the stranger. Without looking, the stranger grabbed the bottle from behind her, flipped off the bottle cap with her thumb, and took a deep swig. "Hello... Tosha." She said when she came back for air.

"The girl asked your name," said one of the two strangers. Each one sat on chair to either side of her. "It's polite, in these parts, to introduce one's self."

The stranger chuckled. "One's self, eh? Very well." The paused long enough for Tosha to straighten herself upright, and stand behind the pole. The nervous tension brought on by the men on either side of her forced Tosha to keep her distance. She had seen what these men were capable of doing.

"My name... is Veronica Hornbill."

Tosha stopped dead in her tracks. Her skin crawled and her body blushed. "W... what did you say?"

One of the men made a "cut" symbol under his neck to the bartender, and the music abruptly stopped. The only sound in the room was the sound of the kitchen exhaust fan. House lights came on, and cast a harsh white glare across the orange stage lights.

"Hey!" said the drunken man by his unconscious friend. "What happened to the music? It 2am already?"

"You know this ... girl?" one of the strangers asked.

"Yes," said Veronica at the same moment the dancer stammered, "No!"

"We don't like strange women... here," said the other man as her slowly reached in front of Veronica's face and attempted to remove the sunglasses.

The next moment was a blur as the sound of a sickening crunching thud of two bodies punctuated the tension. The two men slid to the floor as Tosha rapidly looked for where Veronica had suddenly gone. She was several tables away, on top of an unsteady table, but holding her balance like a seasoned skateboarder. Her hands were thrust deep her pockets as her ankles deftly rocked the creaking tabletop like an acrobat. Nothing above her hips moved a hair, the the table rolled under her so much, a lone bottle rolled off the table and bounced on the floor.

"Get away from me!" Tosha screamed. "You have no right to be here!" She unconsciously covered her nakedness with her arms as she groped the floor for the small nightgown she had tossed off earlier in the act. But this was difficult because she didn't dare face away from Veronica.

"Then you know why I am here," Veronica said, hopping from table to table, closer and closer, hands in pockets with the ease of well-rehearsed stepping stones.

"GET OUT! GO AWAY!" Tosha screamed in panic. She ran behind the curtains, but somehow the small figure had gotten there first. She backed out of the curtains, and tripped. She fell on her tailbone, and winced, but still backpedaled away from the calm figure who seemed certain everything was going normally in this exchange as she followed her back to the stage. "Leave me ALONE!"

"Oh, that is quite impossible, Miss Tosha. You know how--"

"GET AWAY FROM HER!!!" screamed the bartender, aiming a shotgun from behind the counter. He focused on Veronica's small skull with the eyes of a seasoned deer hunter who always shot the largest bucks since he was a boy.


"A man named 'Morty' is going to kill me?" asked Veronica. "How deliciously ironic!"

"SHOOT H--!!!" screamed Tosha, eyes wide with fear, but was interrupted by a large gun blast. Veronica seemed to fall off the stage. Instinct made Tosha to scramble up, and she ran through the curtains and the back door to her awaiting Camry. Her shoes flung behind her, she hissed in anger as she realized that her keys were back in her purse. She looked at the door she just escaped through slowly shut close and click with a lock. Her heart jumped into her throat.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh no..." she said. Her mind raced to think how she would escape. Maybe one of the guys left their car unlocked and keys in the ignition? Was that too crazy to ask for? Surely two of them were already dead. She ran, clutching her nightgown across her, towards the front of the building. Her small bare feet stung against the sharp gravel.

But Veronica was waiting for her and startled her, because in the short time she had been out, Veronica had managed to get the gun from the bartender, and make it to the opposite end of the parking lot. Tosha swallowed as she realized the bartender, who was like a surragate father to her, must be dead. Veronica was brandishing the long fiream like a proud redneck, leaning against a Saturn sedan, propped stock on one hip, muzzle skywards into the glare from the overhead streetlight. The gun looked much larger against her small frame than that of an average man.

"I'm patient. You don't have to run, Tosha," Veronica said with small air of joy at her own wit. "I'll wait here for you."

Tosha swallowed. "Get away from me--"

"Tosha, honey, you know I can't do that--"


"Are you going to make this easy, or hard? We can do it the hard way. You already know how that ends. Alone, in the woods, bears eating your corpse... is that any way to die, hon?"

"How did you find me??"

Veronica face tightened with a frown. "I simply followed the smell."

"So are you going to just shoot me? Huh? Is that it? Is that how your kind gets their kicks--"

"I only ask one thing from you. You... know... what that is." Veronica fired the gun into the air, shattering the street light above her and darkness came faster than the rain of glass. Tosha reflexively screamed and covered her face.

There was a long silence. Tosha looked up from her hands and saw Veronica, unmoved from her spot, a cloud of dust wafting from the burned out streetlight shell, her hair glinting with glass shards in the shine of the other parking lot light.

"Th... there's only two rounds in that thing..." Tosha said with a little hope.

"You think I was going to kill you with a GUN?" Veronica asked, and laughed. "A GUN, Tosha?" She tossed the gun to the ground.

Tosha laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess." But her relaxed moment was cut short when Veronica tore through the air like an arrow and pressed Tosha against the wall.

"Fallen angels are so... pretty," Veronica said, running her small fingers through Tosha's brown wavy hair.

"God you are so scary..." Tosha said in a gasped whimper, shaking uncontrollably. "Please leave me alone."

"I will leave you alone when I have what I came for."

"You can't have it, it's not mine."

"But you lie, Tosha. You lie."

"It belongs to my master--"

"Yaweh will not miss what he has already lost, fallen angel."

"You cannot have it!"

"You are mortal, now... I can take it from your frail, frail, little mortal... body, Tosha."

Tosha's face screwed up with courage. "F-fuck off, demon!"

Veronica's hand crushed Tosha's windpipe. "GIVE IT TO ME!"

Tosha's mouth opened and gagged as her eyes rolled back and she went into convulsions. Her feet uselessly kicked on either side of Veronica's short frame as the oxygen started to leave her body. Her lungs despeartely inhaled, but seemed to be unable to exhale. The air went stale and she started to see stars.

"That's it... good little girl... give mamma what she needs..." Veronica said, and watched Tosha's face turn red to a deep purple. She deftly avoided the clumsy claws on her victim until they stopped and went limp. Tosha's body slid down the wooden siding. "Now... to business."

"HEY!" said a voice from the parking lot.

Veronica spun around and hissed. It was probably one of the drunks from the club she left alive. She grabbed a dagger from her jacket and whipped it at the figure with such speed and power, the impact of the plunged hilt buried in his chest did more damage to his body than the blade did. It threw him sideways and spun him in place where he collapsed in a twisted pile.

The new night air was silent again. Veronica turned to her victim, and said, "Now... open your mouth..."

But instead of her thumb opening the jaw to claim the girl's soul, Tosha did it on her own, and suddenly the chorus of a thousand singers rocketed forth from her mouth as her eyes snapped open.

Veronica staggered back, shocked and disarmed in the sonic assault that emanated from Tosha's body. Like waves of shrill pain, the voice washed over Veronica and it was all she could do to keep from being consumed by a growing white light. The choir of God's children echoed through the forest and bounced off the mountains while Veronica slam her ears with her palms, trying to shut the noise out.

Tosha sprang upright as huge white folds came from her back. Her lip piercing shot from her jaw as the hole sealed shut, and the tattoos burned off her skin like leaves on a coal fire. A set of giant feathered wings unfurled like canvas sails and stretched in preparation. Her mouth stayed open in a focused howl, pressing Veronica away with such force, that Veronica's determination to stay where she was started to tear off her clothing and rip her exposed skin.

Then, as quickly as she made the sound, she closed it mouth and only the echoes remained, ricocheting off the distant mountains in subdued glory. Her wings flexed and she launched herself off the ground, flapping her giant eagle wings. As her wings tugged clumsy gulps of air at the sky, her body gyrated and moved to try and gain altitude as fast as she could.

Veronica, her face torn and bleeding, removed the broken frames of the sunglasses and she wiped her eyes with her tattered sleeves. "GAH, come BACK! YOU can't get AWAY so... EASILY!" She started to tear off her own jacket, but as ruined as it was, it was difficult to pull it off, so she ended up ripping it off like a second skin.

Tosha's awkward, moth-like launch was smoothing out as she gained distance. Her wings strained in the consuming darkness as she went out of range of the parking lot's glare and started to see the remnants of the sunset over the edge of the trees. The slim orange band gave her hope as she struggled to flap higher and higher; each stroke becoming longer and more powerful as her wings found their stride and she gained control of her bare legs, which had been dangling below her like an out-of balance pendulum.

Veronica pulled up her undershirt, exposing two buds that quickly uncoiled like fern leaves and started to form two huge, red, leathery wings. "BITCH CAN'T GET AWAY!!!" She didn't even try to remove the shirt once her wings were free, because she didn't have time to worry about that. She had to get airborne as quickly as possible before her prize flew away.

Tosha's face was screwed up with a mix of courage and raw fear. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She didn't look back, but already assumed her tormentor was flapping in the dark mountain sky right behind her. She looked left and right instead, because she had to gain speed. She felt she was high enough for a swooping move, so she straightened her wings and took a steep dive down the mountain's edge behind the orange glow of the bar below her. Faster and faster she dove, but felt she was too close to the ground and barely missed the treetops as she prepared to glide with increasing speed.

Veronicas's winged form shot from the parking lot in pursuit. Her own screams turned into screeches as she tore off after Tosha, but she was too close to the tree line, and crashed into a pine tree inches from Tosha's left foot.

Tosha sped down the tree line, letting gravity propel her glide and only aiding it with flaps to provide enough lift to keep the grabbing branches from reaching her as well. She tilted her climb feathers as she reached the valley, and focused ahead as she swooped past all the lights of the small town below her. At this hour, barely anyone would see her. She would still be safe. As she arched up the opposite mountainside, she pumped her wings for all they were worth, frustrated that the speed she had gained were now resisting her flapping muscles. She strained against the glide, keeping control so she did not crash and finally cleared the mountaintop and gazed at the purple clouds as her climb reached a peaceful zenith. All that was left for her to do now was swoop and flap, swoop and flap, until she reached a thermal near the power plant, where she could rest for a few moments as she climbed higher into the winking starlight.

But that peaceful moment was cut short as a pair of claws raked her arm. Veronica had zoomed past her and made a steep turn. Small pieces of pine needles were still falling from her hair and torn clothing as she banked hard to spin right into Tosha's prone frame.

But Tosha had taken a second dive and turned back towards the town in the valley. She pulled her wings and limbs close to her body, gambling that gravity was faster than flapping. She rocketed down towards a graveyard and at the last minute whipped her wings open, braking her into a steep dive that she barely pulled from. Her toes brushed the ground as she dodged gravestones.

Jenny and Todd, aka Moonbayne and Razorwolf, were enjoying a warm summer night on a picnic blanket behind a large gravestone. Dressed in full Goth makeup, Moonbayne did not seem to care it took her half an hour to make her lip liner curl like the lines on an insane, but talented, artist. Her pierced tongue was mixing with Razorwolf's in a lustful bliss born from desperation and longing. At the exact moment she realized she wanted to draw the statue of an angel she had seen a little downhill from where they were, her upturned eyes opened and saw a huge nude figure swoop past them with such speed, she squeaked and broke their embrace.

"What?" asked Razorwolf, moving his greasy locks away from his eyes. "Oh, was it *my* piercing this time?"

But before he could answer, both of them saw a red figure that glowed like dying embers and covered with torn clothing rush past them and follow the nude glowing winged woman.

"Tell me you didn't do mushrooms before we got here. Tell me, Todd!"

But Todd's confession of mushroom consumption was left behind as Tosha flapped with all her might, trying to increase her speed as she dove into the glare of a car sales lot. As she suspected, Veronica followed and hissed in the bright lights. Tosha arched her wings in full brake, turned around, and slammed her heels into Veronica's back, aiming for the tendons that controlled the twisting of the bat wings. Demon wings were built differently than hers, and she had long ago learned how to fight demons. She fought them in the 1800s, and the newer, more modern brood were no different. They didn't rely on keel muscles like her kind, but a complex cross-hatch of opposing bands that scissored back and forth while an extensive ball and socket joint controlled the swivel movement.

Her heels found their mark, honed by centuries of experience, and the added bonus that she was no one's slave and had free time to live and study as she wanted. She may have gained her own soul, and had freedom from harvesting other souls, but she would forever be an outcast from the Kingdom of Heaven. Which her book-loving soul more than felt was worth it.

Veronica shrieked, having never been attacked in mid-flight in such a skilled manner, and while her quick reflexes protected her sensitive wings joints, it did not also keep her from crashing into a string of plastic pennants, tangling her flight enough to lose lift.

Tosha barely missed a light pole as she flapped and rose into the sky, leaving behind the sound of a demon crashing into an SUV, two sedans, and the side of a used RV with a crumpling stream of curses.

Three figures on dark habibs and kabuki masks appeared from the edge of the trees behind the car dealership, and waited for Veronica to untangle herself. The figure that met them had already retraced her wings, and her dark red flesh was quickly turning back to a camouflage peach color.

"You failed," said one of the figures behind her mask.

"I didn't say this would be easy."

"That is precisely what you promised," said another figure, more as a statement than in anger.

But Veronica knew that the Harajuku did not need to sound like anything to be upset. "Yeah, well, all is not lost. I didn't know she still had her powers, but that's only a minor setback. She has to return to her nest. She has to do it soon, and she cannot move until sunrise. She is now at her weakest, and we will proceed to find where that little white bird sleeps. And when I DO..."

"That will be taken care of by us," said a Harajuku.

Veronica paused, still panting from her battle. "Yes. Of course. As you wished..."

The Harajuku melted back into the forest, leaving Veronica sniffing the sky. "Fucking town smells like ass," she said. "Should make it easy to find the nest of an angel."

And with that, he wings uncurled once more, and both sore and rejuvenated with the sweat of battle, she leapt into the night air.
Tags: blog, harajuku, story
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