Happy New Year!
Hope you all have had a wonderful and restful Christmas holiday.
I finished my first 10 weeks of Creative Writing (part deux) just before Christmas. I still have a couple of assignments yet to post, this being one of them. Task was to take a classic novel and put your own twist on it. Whilst I have never read Misery I have seen the film several times so I downloaded an exert from the book and adapted the same. Some of the text is Stephen King's original work, some of it mine, all of it fiction. I think we make a great team!
I am back for my next 10 weeks on the 18th January 2017 and my NYC Flash Fiction Challenge is due to start on the 20th January 2017, it is still not to late to enter and details can be found at http://www.nycmidnight.com/Competitions/SSC/Challenge.htm
(Madness Makes)
Paul rolled his eyes in annoyance, “bring her back” was the woman insane. Well yes she was a soupçon deranged, after all this is the woman who threatened to chop of his ‘other’ leg should he try to escape, and slice of his fingers, should he refuse Misery’s return. It was fair to say that Annie had issues. If only she was not so damned hot. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled her earthy aroma, she was not interested in him. Paul believed he just filled her with tired revulsion, all Annie cared about was Misery. It was then, whilst momentarily mesmerised by her buoyant breasts and injudicious hemline a plan began to formulate.
“Annie” he whispered, looking at her earnestly. She glared at him, tears formulating in her captivating cerulean eyes.
“Annie” he repeated “I will bring Misery back, I will bring her back just for you.”
Annie gasped and then exhaled slowly. Paul awaited the detonation. This could go either way he thought, he could lose more limbs or, he dared imagine, she would be wrapping her limbs around him. He watched her measured expression apprehensively, after all this was a woman who could go from Mother Theresa to Myra Hindley in a nanosecond.
“A novel! A wonderful big novel” she exploded. “Like the others, no wait, maybe even bigger than the others” she began to pace back and forth, back and forth, her delicate, but deadly, hands clasped between those wonderful voluptuous breasts. Suddenly she lunged toward him “what can I do Paul? How can I help?” Her perfect face was just inches from his own and it took all of his self-control not to take those plush, slightly parted, pink lips into his own and devour them, however the thought of what this modern day Delphine Lalaurie might slice off next, suppressed his ardent urge. He had to tread carefully, which was fantastically farcical, given he only had one leg!
“Annie, will you tell me one thing?”
“Of course, Paul.”
“If I write this story for you”
“Not a story Paul, a Novel! A nice big one.” She declared.
He studied her face, her flawless features.
“Yes Annie, a nice big one! Will you take care of me Annie?”
“Oh Paul, of course I will, haven’t I already?”
He looked down at his severed limb and thought to himself “oh yes Annie you have been an absolute delight” instead he smiled warmly and nodded.
She jumped to her feet “come on then hop to it” realising what she had said she giggled.
Dear god, Paul mused as he looked at her beautiful face, her wonderful curves, the slight dip at the nape of her neck as she struggled to get him into his chair. Loose blonde curls tickled his chin and her creamy cleavage was inches from his hungry lips. Annie really was a pulchritudinous psychopath!
“I need you to help me Annie, if I feel alive I can bring Misery alive, you do understand that, don’t you?” He could tell by the blank look on her face that the abyss inside her head had no concept, so he tried a different tact. Shifting slightly in his seat he leant forward and took her hand, stroking her fingers, he gently kissed each finger. She didn’t stop him, more importantly she didn’t kill him! He watched as the veil of recognition shadowed her face. When she whispered “I am glad I burnt that book” he knew he was in!
And so, it began. Hour upon hour, day after day, Paul let his fingers re-create Misery. It wasn’t too difficult Misery had been in his life for so long, the chapters just spilled out of his fingers onto the pages. In return Annie, true to her word, relinquished herself to him, little by little, chapter after chapter, with Misery’s comeback came Paul’s pay-off. Tantalising teasers of the grand finale. Paul knew what Annie wanted and he drip-fed it to her with every strike of the key.
Some weeks later, after an exhilarating penultimate chapter. Paul was resting in his bed when Annie walked in, the manuscript clutched in her fist. “Oh Paul” was all she said. Paul was unsure if it was a favourable or unsavoury “oh Paul” he was weary and unsure of what mood elevator she was currently stationed on. After all she was a walking talking bottle of nitro-glycerine, he imagined that when he got chance to bounce her around a little, there was a risk she may explode. He didn’t have to wait long, releasing the manuscript from her clenched fist, letting the filled pages float to the floor, she pulled back the sheets and Paul groaned as her head disappeared between his thighs.
Paul began the final chapter. He took great care and paid meticulous attention to detail to ensure that it was just right. He endured Annie’s constant interruptions as the prize was in sight. Paul was growing increasingly fatigued; the pain had diminished to a dullish ache. He wasn’t a Doctor but due to his crude severed leg he suspected septicaemia had set it. He deadened the pain by focusing on the rumbustious reward and his lascivious longing for the maniacal Annie.
Annie entered the room and closed the door, slowly behind her.
“Is it finished” she purred.
“It’s finished Annie, it’s Misery’s greatest climax ever!”
Annie gasped, covered her mouth her eyes widely expectant. She looked like an extra from Moulin Rouge, all frills and feathers, however Paul cared not, for him it was what lay beneath those feathers. Oh, boy was he going to enjoy plucking her later. Annie reached out to grab those all-important final pages and Paul held them above his head. “Me first Annie, remember? Me first!” For the next few hours Annie gave Paul everything he wanted, and more. She was like a drug, a lethal, deadly insatiable high. Paul couldn’t get enough. She was as intoxicating as she was toxic. As delicious as she was demented, he absorbed every pernicious pore of her lithe young body.
Sated, Paul reached for a cigarette, inhaling on it slowly he nodded toward the discarded papers.
“Go ahead Annie, Misery is waiting for you.” She leapt from the bed.
He watched her read. Watched and waited.
“Nooooo” the long, painful howl reverberated around the small room. Her face became distorted, his words taking her to a hellish dystopia. “What have you done? What the FUCK have you done?” she screamed, over and over.
“I killed her Annie, just like before, but this time she is NEVER coming back. It’s over Annie, Misery is dead.”
She began rambling “no Paul she can’t be, you promised me Misery, you must do it again, yes, it’s not a problem, you can re-write the final chapter, yes that’s what we’ll do Paul, you and I we will bring her back, third time lucky!” she laughed, hysterically.
In her delirium, so absorbed was Annie in her second resurrection of Misery, she never noticed Paul close his eyes, take his last breath, and slip peacefully into an eternal sleep with a single white feather resting on his now still chest.
The End
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