What do you know? I found time for another installment in response to Evelyn’s magnificent Spiral Wit Part III. Her writing was just so inspiring I couldn’t let it go. I hope that I do the rest of the story justice.
The original prompt came from over at Indigo Spider’s Sunday Picture Press. Below is the photo that started all the trouble 😉
Spiral Wit Part IV
Though he was scared shitless, Bacon knew he had to be cool and act quickly if he wanted to survive. His vision was moving in and out of focus – reality observed through a trumpeting zoom lens set to f-0.8.
“There you have it then,” he mustered cheer where he lay on the ground. “I win. Fix me up so we can all be outta here.”
“Wrong,” the redheaded demon pouted. “Your friend over there lost. And I said the winner takes all. You didn’t win at nothing.”
“But,” Bacon bubbled bloody saliva down his chin, dropped his resigned head back heavily onto the concrete floor.
The fairy sauntered closer to him. She slipped and corrected her balance after stepping into a dark pool of his and Mason’s mingling insides. Then she sat in the stinking mess, cozied up to him. Bacon moaned low and long, the sound of a funeral dirge chanted by mothers that lose their children, as her warm flesh settled into his. Then, fascinated, he watched as the emerald fabric she wore sucked up his blood, creating patterns that would give Rorschach nightmares.
“I have a dream,” she prompted. “No more fucking around.”
Bacon was losing consciousness. His senses were confused. He could taste her voice echoing in the stairwell and smell the auburn of her hair. He felt weightless, a being of light.
“I have a dream.” It was his voice, though he did not feel himself speak. “And that dream is my unborn son. A boy who can grow up knowing things I never will – love, safety, peace, trust.”
“And why couldn’t he?”
“I can’t, you know… it doesn’t… I shoot blanks down there.”
“There are reasons for everything. You ever think about that?”
Bacon did not answer immediately. He tried to open his eyes, but could not. He was also unable to move any part of his body. Paralysed.
He heard his voice again. “I’m a killer. The symbolism is not lost on me.”
“Open your eyes,” the redhead said.
Bacon opened his eyes. The fairy was gone. Feeling had returned to his body. He could breathe. There was no pain. He lifted his head and looked at himself. The gashes and scrapes and holes and scratches were gone from his body. He was healed.
Bacon stood up gingerly, squinting into the shadows to see if he could find the redhead. She was gone, along with the chalice. But he did not care. He glanced at Mason’s body.
“Sorry, Bud,” he said and headed for the spiral stairwell where he sought out then pressed a red button similar to the one he had pushed at the top of the stairs to turn them into a giant slide. The slide returned to stairs and he elatedly started up them, glad to be able to walk again.
He lost himself in thought, so that considerable time passed before he realized he had not reached the top of the stairs. He stopped climbing. He trained an eye on a level up ahead, held his gaze and continued to walk. Though he was climbing the stairs, he remained stationary, getting no closer to his target.
Bacon walked to the banister and peered over the edge. Vertigo overtook him and he fought the urge to step back from the railing. With his eyes now fixed on the empty pedestal several storeys below, he tried climbing the stairs again. He walked. And walked. And walked. And made no progress. Panicky, he turned around and tried to barrel down the stairs. Though he ran and leapt down them, he got no closer to the ground. He stopped.
“Aaaaaaaaggggghhhhhh!” he roared, clutching at his chest. “Come back here, bitch! I want to die!”