Copy Link
Add to Bookmark
Report
There Aint No Justice 108
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOO OOOO. OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" .OOOOOO OOOOOo OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOO oOOOOOOO OOOOOOO. OOOO oOOOO
OOOO .OOOO OOOO OOOOOOOOo OOOO OOOO"
OOOO oOOOO OOOO OOOO "OOOO. OOOO OOOOo .OOOO'
OOOO .OOOO" OOOO OOOO OOOOoOOOO "OOOO. oOOOO
OOOO oOOOOOOO..OOOO OOOO "OOOOOOO OOOOoOOOO"
OOOO .OOOO"""OOOOOOOO OOOO OOOOOO "OOOOOOO'
OOOO oOOOO ""OOOO OOOO "OOOO OOOOOO
|---------------------------------------------------------------------------|
| |
| There Ain't No Justice |
| |
| #108 |
| |
|---------------------------------------------------------------------------|
- Metamorph -
Chapter 01
by Arifel
The LAW OF SYNCHRONICITY: Two or more events happening at the same
time are likely to have more in common
than the merely temporal. Very few events
ever happen in isolation from other
events. There is no such thing as a mere
coincidence.
The Laws of Magic
Excerpted from `Authentic Thaumaturgy'
by P.E.I Bonewits
I
i knew, somehow, what was going to happen; the evening before i first
met her, on a whim, i sorted my videotape collection. i put all of the
silly titles (my twelve hours of Warner Brothers cartoons, Monty Python,
Red Dwarf, and that Italian bestiality vid that i'd maliciously
subtitled) up the back where they couldn't be seen, and i placed all of
what i called my Dark Gothic titles at the front. i regarded the
hastily-scrawled labels on the sides: Evil Dead II, The Hunger, all four
of the Hellraiser films, Eraserhead...
on a similar (or perhaps the same) whim, i sorted my CD collection. all
of the industrial and Goth bands were prominently displayed, except for
the re-release of `Rabies', by Skinny Puppy, which rarely, if ever, left
the CD player.
why had i done this?
a few nights before that, i'd been experimenting with astral projection,
aided by some stale ketamine that a friend had given me. i'd never had
much success with lucid dreaming in the past; my visualisation skills
were poor (remembering Jack Vance saying something about sorcerers
needing to be able to visualise a tree, count the leaves twice and
arrive at the same number each time); this instance was different. at
first, i wasn't really sure if i was asleep; i was lying on my bed, and
the pre-dawn glow was just beginning to filter in through the window.
when it suddenly brightened into a silent atomic-explosion white glare,
i knew `i wasn't in Kansas any more, Toto'.
i reviewed the things i'd read on astral travel; i recalled my previous
successes, and started looking for that library i'd heard so much about.
it wasn't hard to find; physically, it was in the same place that the
real-world library was, just down the road and off the main highway from
where i lived. i started to float down the twilit street, hovering a
few inches off the ground (i could rarely work up the enthusiasm for
full-on flying) when suddenly, i was wrenched aside. i was snatched
from the vaguely-defined bayside road into something that looked like a
club; dark, low-ceilinged and foggy. i stood there for a few moments,
wondering if this was some invention of my own mind, when i heard a
voice. it whispered,
<please... will you stay with me, just for a few moments?> i blinked,
and replied (my mouth felt numb; i found out, later, that i'd turned
over in my sleep and had my face pressed into my pillow)
`well, sure... why not?' the whisper hissed back at me,
<i can't answer any of your questions... this is one of those
otherworld situations, but it's really important to me. i need someone
to be here for a while. just to be here. for a while. in fact, the
moment has passed.> i heard a sigh of relief. <thank you. i wish i
could explain, but anyway, i'm really indebted to you.>
this was bewildering, to say the least; i shrugged and replied,
`i'm glad i could help.' it replied hastily,
<no, it's more than that. it was my existence in the balance there for
a few moments. if you hadn't happened by, i would've been, uh...> it
paused, as if in thought. i sensed around me, trying to see some detail
in the fog. <look, i feel obliged to you. think of the one thing you
want above all else.>
my eyes must have been glittering, because i heard it chuckle, a low,
burbling sound, almost human. <well, in time... yes. but not
immediately, and not without considerable pain... but the next thing on
your list: i have some connections. i'll speak to someone. keep your
eyes open in the next few days.>
my recall of the dream faded around then, but every word was stuck in my
consciousness. i could still hear the liquid quality of its laughter,
hours later.
that evening, i was driving home from Gary's house. we weren't getting
on; his parents didn't like me at all, and their intrusions into what we
thought of as a stable relationship were beginning to unbalance it (i
can't imagine why i'd become involved with the son of fundamentalists in
the first place). having been through this before, we had both agreed
that it would be best to let it cool for a while. still, i had the nasty
feeling that the decision had been more his than mine.
i was driving down a long stretch of unlit country road, doing, as
usual, about thirty kph over the speed limit, when i saw a single light
in the distance by the side of the road. as i got closer, it appeared
to be a bus stop, and i could see someone waiting for a bus. it was
about two in the morning; whoever it was had to be optimistic.
i had the windows wound down, and freezing air stung my cheek as i got
closer. it was damn cold outside at this time of night, and i began to
feel sorry for whoever it was. sympathy had less to do with me
stopping, however; i began to slow down when i saw it was a young girl,
and she was hitching.
i drew up next to the bus stop and got my first clear look at her
through the open passenger-side window. she was about seventeen, i'd
guess; shoulder-length black hair shrouding her pale, thin face. she was
wearing a sleeveless T-shirt with the words CTHULHU SAVES written on the
front in large, white letters, the first word arranged so that it seemed
to be cupping her breasts. tight black jeans tucked into worn, dusty
black boots. a silver chain around her left ankle; a drab
military-green bag at her feet. and, incongruously, an unstrung tennis
racket in one hand.
she peered in, trying to ascertain if i was dangerous. she caught my
eye and inclined her head slightly towards the left, as if asking `are
you headed that way?' i nodded, and she smiled. i reached over and
opened the door; it swung back just in time for me to see her bending
over, reaching for the bag's straps. wau, nice ass, i thought. she
straightened up and gave me a sly smile, and for a moment i thought i'd
spoken out loud. thankfully, the darkness hid my embarrassment.
she got in, dumping the bag at her feet, and turned to regard me. her
eyes were pale grey in the light that entered from above, shaded by
rogue strands of hair which seemed to drift about as if in a light wind.
we stared at each other for about twenty seconds before she broke, one
corner of her mouth twitching up into a small smile. your name is Lydya,
i was thinking; i'd been watching the cartoon show version of
`Beetlejuice' recently; it was silly, but i'd developed a liking for the
female lead character, no matter how cubistically she'd been rendered.
her tongue briefly parted her lips; `Lydya.' she whispered, her mouth
barely moving. i nodded once.
`i know.' she reached around and closed the door. i put the car into
gear and moved off.
so that's why i'd sorted my videos and CDs. to impress her.
`is that a radio?' she asked, pointing to a bunch of buttons set into
the dashboard. a quiet voice, deep for a female of her age, and husky,
as if she'd been smoking home-cured cigars since she was ten. i shook my
head and touched the exposed end of the cassette; it slid in and started
somewhere in the middle of the Pixies' `Surfer Rosa'. Out of the corner
of my eye i saw her raise an eyebrow in approval.
as i got closer to home, i felt moved to ask,
`how far are you going?' and in my mind, i imagined her reply, the reply
i wanted to hear, just as she said it:
`as far as i can. you wouldn't know somewhere i could hide out for
tonight, would you?' briefly, i entertained the idea of asking her
something completely out of the ordinary, just to see if she'd give the
response that i would imagine. instead, i replied,
`there's plenty of room at my place. since the rest of my family moved
to Queensland, i've had the house to myself.' i could hear amusement in
her tone,
`no other... attachments?' i thought of Gary, and his parents, and of
the expression on his face when we'd last parted.
`no.' she smiled openly at this, her arms crossed, her black-lacquered
nails tapping in time to the music on the pale flesh of her arm. she's
going to establish my name next, i thought.
`how many... vowels, in your first name?' that's novel... i thought of
the half-a-dozen or so bulletin board pseudonyms i had, and settled on
one.
`two. or three, if you count the letter `y'. but don't bother, you'll
never guess -'
`ah! i know you.' we were travelling down a fairly straight stretch of
road, so i felt that i could safely afford to turn and stare at her, not
daring to think anything. `i recognised your car. it's pretty
distinctive.' yeah, right, i thought, turning my attention back to the
road. goddamn telepaths!
i turned into the street where i lived. the house was a few doors up; i
pulled up before the driveway, bumping over the gutter in the darkness,
and into the car-port in the back yard. i got out and led her into the
house.
it was reasonably tidy at the moment; most of the dirty clothes were in
the washing machine, and the dishes had been washed some time in the
past week. i wandered over to have a look at the screen of my computer,
which had been trying to collect some electronic mail. it had been at
it for eight hours, and still hadn't gotten through; a jab of the escape
key told it to give up.
when i turned back, she was asleep in the armchair, her legs curled up
beneath her. carefully, i walked over to her and kneeled down next to
the chair. in sleep, she looked younger than seventeen; her head
resting on her forearm, gently rising and falling with her slowed
breathing.
she couldn't have been asleep for very long, so i jogged her arm and
said softly,
`there's a bed in the next room.' she opened her eyes sleepily; smiled
seductively. she held her arms out; i leaned down and she clasped her
hands around my neck. i put both hands behind her back and lifted;
strange... she couldn't have weighed more than about thirty kilos! she
jumped up and clasped her legs around my waist, her cool smile inches
away from my face, pale grey-blue eyes glittering. rather awkwardly, i
backed up a few feet and then carried her to the bedroom that my parents
had once occupied, extremely conscious of her thighs gripping my waist,
of her warmth.
there was a double bed in there, neatly made up; occasionally, i had
friends stay overnight. black undersheets, several pillows and a large
black doona. i staggered over to the bedside (more from the uneven
distribution of weight than from any effort required to support her),
and we stood there, me waiting for her to let go and fall back onto the
bed, she with a sweet smile on her face that told me she wasn't about to
let go just yet.
carefully, i leaned forward until she was lying flat on the bed, with me
hovering above her. with her hands still clasped behind my neck, she
gently tugged me down to where she could touch her lips to mine. we only
brushed against each other briefly, but i was surprised at how cold her
lips felt.
i stayed poised over her like that for about thirty seconds, cautiously
nibbling her lower lip, my head turning this way and that as we kissed.
Lydya unclasped her hands and, placing them on my shoulders, pushed me
down. at the same time, she dropped back onto the bed, throwing her
head back, exposing her white throat. i leaned down further and touched
my warm lips to the softly-pulsing surface. i could feel her sigh; i
could almost taste it.
abruptly, she grasped the shoulder-strap of her T-shirt, tugging it from
her shoulder, exposing one small pale-nippled breast. my lips eagerly
moved down from her throat to this new target, causing her to give voice
to a series of more pronounced sighs. the nipple was small, hard; cold.
i tried my best to warm it with my tongue, lips and teeth, and from the
sounds Lydya was making, it was working -
then, i paused. we had met for the first time only twenty minutes ago,
and we were practically screwing! i drew back slightly; she made a tiny
sound of concern. by way of answer, i murmured,
`don't you think we're moving a little too fast here?' she smiled up at
me and gave a brief shake of her head, no more than half a centimetre's
movement in either direction. she tugged me closer, to the point where
i had to stop leaning over her; i dropped onto the bed next to her. she
turned to face me, her head resting on her arm, her elbow denting the
pillow. her eyes glittered a deep, liquid green.
green? when i picked her up at the bus-stop, they had been grey. or at
least pale blue. i could have been mistaken... sodium lighting,
possibly. remembering this brought back the suspicion of her telepathy.
without actually thinking it, i decided to implement a test. if she
/was/ reading my mind, she would have heard me thinking, `uh-huh.'
i paused, smiled and ran my hand down her side, over her hip. without
making it obvious, i visualised her naked, lying on her back with her
legs spread and thought how much i'd like to have my tongue inside her.
her eyes narrowed and the briefest of smiles played around her lips. she
half-rolled over onto her back, her hands behind her head, one knee
bent, tilting her pelvis towards me.
i was getting a bit annoyed at this. i've never pretended to be a
full-on snag, but she was wrong if she thought she could simply waltz in
and screw her way into my confidence. having just been through all of
that crap with Gary, i wasn't about to repeat it. not just yet, anyway.
i reached over her, grabbed the doona cover and dragged it over,
covering her legs. getting up, i smiled politely and said,
`sleep well.' she smiled as if conceding defeat - for the moment - and
murmured,
`i'll be here if you need someone to talk to.' she rolled over to face
away from me and tugged the covers up over her shoulder. she started
moving around underneath the covers; she was taking off her clothes. i
retreated while i still had willpower to do so.
i was exhausted. i crawled into bed fully dressed and fell,
immediately, into dreamless sleep.
the next morning, i had drifted into that state between sleep and
consciousness. familiar territory; sometimes, i had been able to stay,
balanced there, for up to an hour. it was nice. a cold morning, a warm
bed, the faint light from outside just balanced with the blinking green
of the VCR's clock, reading 12:00. nothing moving outside. it must be
Sunday. mmm.
this calm only lasted for... well, it was hard to tell, but it wasn't
very long. soon, i noticed a strange kind of clicking coming from the
telephone, as if it was trying to ring but couldn't quite make up its
mind.
my hand emerged from the warmth of the covers, groped out to the
telephone and picked up the receiver. no dial-tone. i couldn't
remember if i'd properly disconnected my computer from the line, and
then i remembered the phone extension in the other bedroom...
`good morning.' i murmured, as if still half-asleep. she replied with a
sigh,
`mmmmmmmmnh, hi.'
`sleep well?'
`mm-hmm. i think there's something you should know.'
`yes?'
`i'm not wearing very much.'
`i'd guessed that. few people wear motorcycle boots to bed.'
`yeah... mmmh,' (those sounds were beginning to get to me), `when i
wake up, you know, it's nice... i mean, i like the way my skin
feels...' i could just hear the hiss of her hands moving over her body.
`mmm... you know, you may be a bit weird, but expect you're pretty much
like most guys...'
`pretty much.'
`yeah, mmm, every guy i've ever woken up with on a cold morning has
woken up with an erection.' i smiled. this was a new approach... phone
sex, no more than three metres apart. i thought i'd give back some of
what she was giving to me.
`oh yeah... that feels good.' a sound from the phone, as if she was
rolling over.
`what are you doing?' she asked.
`why don't you come in and see for yourself?' i taunted. she laughed, a
low, throaty murmur that tickled my ear through the telephone's speaker.
`mm, it's /very/ cold this morning... and this bed is much more, ah,
accommodating, don't you think?' i chuckled, an echo of her laugh.
`i'll be right over.' i hung up.
she was right; it was freezing. the house did have a heater, but i
rarely felt justified in using it just to heat the house for myself, and
the cats rarely complained. hell, they usually chose to sleep outside,
even if i did turn the heater on just for them.
the room was shrouded in grey twilight; birds had just started chirping
outside. i braced myself, threw the covers back and restrained a gasp
as the shock of the cold wiped away the dozy Sunday-morning feeling.
she was right; i wasn't very much different from most guys. i smiled as
the evidence for my normality pointed at the ceiling until the cold
prevailed.
i groped about on the floor until i found my black jumper, slipped it
over my head and revelled in the scratchy feeling of wool against bare
skin. teeth chattering, my body temperature dropping with prolonged
exposure to the air, i carefully stepped over the books, milk-crates
full of CDs and comics that made up the war-torn landscape of my bedroom
floor, down the short hallway to the spare bedroom.
it was dark in there; the curtains had been carefully arranged so as to
exclude every trace of outside. the digital clock had been unplugged.
my partially dark-adjusted eyes made out a pale oval hovering just above
the sea of black which was gathered around her body, sitting up against
the wall, supported by a pile of pillows. i scented a faint aroma of,
something; something feminine. i closed my eyes for a few seconds,
opened them again and i could see more detail. unless i'd been mistaken
last night, her hair was shorter.
`are you just going to stand there?' i moved closer, not taking my eyes
off hers, put one knee on the end of the bed. there was a moment of
silence, when not even the birds outside made a sound. she slid down
from her sitting position, under the covers with just her face peeping
over the edge. she gave me that languorous sigh again, and stretched,
her fingertips quivering, brushing the wall behind her. `come on, get
in. you must be cold.' i moved over to the side of the bed, sat down
and manoeuvred my way under the edge of the doona, to minimise the
amount of cold air that entered with me.
it was warm. Gary and i had been apart long enough for me to have
forgotten how good it felt to get into a warm bed on a cold morning; my
legs tingled with the feeling, and i shuddered involuntarily.
`hedonite,' she accused playfully. alarm bells should have been
ringing; that word - a combination of hedonist and cenobite - was one of
my private inventions. i was too distracted, however.
`hell, no; just cold.' i replied. she was sitting up, resting on one
elbow, masses of black hair draped over one shoulder. she was still
wearing the CTHULHU T-shirt, and with the doona cover coming up to a
point just below her breasts, the edge of one breast lay in view through
the loose arm-hole. she was staring at me blankly; almost as if she
were looking straight through me. enough of my body-warmth had returned
to begin to revive my erection, and even though i knew she couldn't see
it, i turned to lie on my side, drawing my legs up underneath me; then i
pulled the covers over my shoulder and shuddered again as i drank in the
warmth. she seemed to come out of her trance, and slid down under the
covers with me. i felt her hand brush my arm, travel up to my shoulder
and behind my neck. she leaned over, pulling me towards her and we
kissed. this time, she felt warm, inviting, safe, everything i'd been
looking for since Gary, the one thing better than waking up in a warm
bed early on a Sunday alone. i put my arms around her and suddenly we
were together, touching from our mouths down to her legs, which were
entwined around me. one of her hands grabbed mine and dragged it from
around her waist, pressed my palm flat against her side and moved it
down her hip, which was covered in something slick, lycra or silk, then
around, over the soft curve of her behind. her knee pressed into my
crotch momentarily, long enough to touch the hardness forming there,
moved back and then pressed again more insistently. i shifted my right
leg slightly until it was between hers; she obliged, spreading her legs,
allowing me to gently press my thigh against her. she shuddered; i
tensed slightly, wondering if i'd done something wrong, but she hugged
me closer and murmured,
`please, don't let me go. it's been so long since i've been this close
to a - anyone. i don't want it to stop...' i wasn't about to. for a
long time, we just lay pressed together, enjoying the feeling of having
someone to hold. then, when i thought she wasn't expecting it - and
with the feeling that i might be entering territory best left
unexplored, but still - i asked,
`how long have you been a telepath?' she laughed and pushed me back
slightly. in the dimness, i saw her hair was now about shoulder length,
and reddish-blond. surely, i hadn't become so blase that i could accept
THAT without question. her eyes were still green, as far as i could
tell.
`almost eight years, although there's a lot more to it than just
telepathy.' i began to miss the feeling of having her touching me, so i
drew her closer again, closed my eyes and listened to her husky murmur.
ú ùþ ú ú þù ú
ÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜþÜÜÜÜ ú ù ú ú ù ú ÜÜÜÜþÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛ
±±±±ÛÛÛßÛ²ÝÛÝÛÛÝþ Üú úÜ þÝÛÛÝÛݲÛßÛÛÛ±±±±
±±±±²²²²²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜþúÝ ù ù ÝúþÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²²±±±±
±±²²²²ÛÛßßÛßÝÛÛÛÛÛÝÜúþ þúÜÝÛÛÛÛÛÝßÛßßÛÛ²²²²±±
²²²²²Ûß þúßÞþßþþÜùþ þùÜþþßþÞßúþ ßÛ²²²²²
²²²²Ûß ú ù ù ú ßÛ²²²²
²²²ÛÝ ÝÛ²²²
²²²ÛÜ ÜÛ²²²
±²²²ÛÝ ÝÛ²²²±
±±²²²ÛÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÛ²²²±±
±±±²²²²²²ÛÜ Phoenix Modernz Systems: 908/830-TANJ ÜÛ²²²²²²±±±
ÛÛ±±±±±±²²²Û VapourWare BBS: 61/3-429-8510 Û²²²±±±±±±ÛÛ
ÛÛ±±±±±±²²²Û underworld_1995.com 514/683-1894 Û²²²±±±±±±ÛÛ
±±±²²²²²²ÛÜ RipCo ][: 312/528-5020 ÜÛ²²²²²²±±±
±±²²²ÛÜÜÜ etext.archive.etext.org ÜÜÜÛ²²²±±
±²²²ÛÝ ÝÛ²²²±
²²²ÛÜ ÜÛ²²²
²²²ÛÝ ÕÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ͸ ÝÛ²²²
²²²²Ûß ú ù ³ TANJ Mailing Address ³ ù ú ßÛ²²²²
²²²²²Ûß þúßÞþßþþÜùþ ³ PO Box 174 ³ þùÜþþßþÞßúþ ßÛ²²²²²
±±²²²²ÛÛßßÛßÝÛÛÛÛÛÝÜúþ ³ Seaside Hts, NJ ³ þúÜÝÛÛÛÛÛÝßÛßßÛÛ²²²²±±
±±±±²²²²²ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜþúÝ ù ³ 08751 ³ ù ÝúþÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ²²²²²±±±±
±±±±ÛÛÛßÛ²ÝÛÝÛÛÝþ Üú ÔÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ; úÜ þÝÛÛÝÛݲÛßÛÛÛ±±±±
ÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜþÜÜÜÜ ú ù ú tanj@pms.metronj.org ú ù ú ÜÜÜÜþÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛ
