Burning Heaven

The board to share all your fiction
User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Thu Mar 18, 2021 11:16 pm

I apologize to anyone who is reading this story and expecting the next chapters tonight. I've spent all day painting my basement and I'm only about half way done, and I really don't feel like dealing with my glitchy computer tonight. I promise I'll resume tomorrow.

Thanks
BTB
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Fri Mar 19, 2021 5:16 pm

Part 21-"How Do You Leave A Loved One Behind?"  


"SAAAANNNDRAAAAAAAAA!"  Maggie screamed into the spider's burrow.  Had Connie and Ellen not been there catch her, she would have gone over the edge after Sandra.  "NOOOOOOOOOO!  SAAAANDRAAAAAAA!  GOD PLEASE... NNOOOOOO!"

Connie and Ellen were trying to process what just happened, even as the much smaller woman kicked and thrashed against them.  They dragged themselves away from the mouth of the hole to relative safety underneath a sage bush.  Maggie finally wrestled herself free of her friends and fell to her knees, throwing her pack to the ground and clawing at the pebbles around her... screaming in pure, unfiltered anguish.   Ellen tried to place a hand on her shoulder only to have Maggie swat it away.  Ellen lost control herself and clung to Connie like she could lose her at any moment too.

Connie, usually the pillar of strength among them, was shaking uncontrollably... haunted by the look in Sandra's eyes as the spider tore into her friend and then dragged her away to a slow death.  The image kept replaying over and over again in her head.  The thought that Sandra could still be alive and was alone in the dark having her insides slowly sucked away... it was too much.  She leaned away from Ellen and vomited.

None of them had the will power to set up camp that night.  They could only stare at the entrance of the burrow, illuminated in the moonlight.  They held each other for what little comfort they could attain.  There would be no sleep, no break from their collective terror and sadness.

Just staring... staring at the tiny hole, hardly unnoticeable by anyone of regular stature.

The last resting place of Sandra Bingham.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn crept over the eastern range.  Maggie silently pushed herself away from Ellen and Connie and began walking towards the burrow.  She stood over it, staring down into the dark corridor.  She crossed her arms across her chest as more than just the cool morning breeze filled her with chills.

"Why couldn't it have been me... you fucking bastard... why not me?  Why'd it have to be Sandra?"

Ellen and Connie watched the form of the tiny brunette as she stared down into the hole, mumbling to herself.  

"W-what are we gonna do, Maggie?"  Connie stuttered.

Maggie couldn't hear Connie's question, but she could feel eyes on her.  The others were clearly looking to her for answers that she didn't have.

"We can't... we can't stay here, " as the words left her mouth, Maggie lost control again.  She dropped to her knees and clutched her aching stomach.  She felt like she was abandoning Sandra and the thought tied knots inside her.

Connie and Ellen rushed to her and knelt down, both of them wrapping their arms around the diminutive brunette and and each other.  Together, they said their last goodbyes to the beautiful blonde woman known to some as 'The Angel of the Tailings,' but to her friends as 'Doe Eyes'.

A low rumble began to grow under their feet.  The three tiny women unlocked their embrace, their eyes darted around them as the rumbling grew ever more intense.

"Oh fuckin' Christ," Connie grumbled, "what next?!"

"Quick!  Against the boulder!"  Maggie barked and the three of them pressed themselves against the giant rock.

As the sound grew louder, Ellen and Connie covered their ears, not wanting to lose what hearing they had left.  Like a procession of gods, giant men on giant horses sped over the top of them, one after another.  Maybe twenty or so.  The giants sped around them at speeds objects their size shouldn't be able to travel.  The parade was ended with a mountain sized horse-drawn wagon rolling past.  The women jumped as one of its wheels caught the boulder they were cowering against with a loud crash, Maggie having only felt its impact through the rock.

As soon as the thunderous storm of men had arrived, they were gone... leaving only a dust storm in their wake.  The trio could just barely see them through the dirt cloud, stopping in the distance at the site of the train robbery.

"Suppose the sheriff finally got wind of the robbery," Maggie said.  She turned her head to check on the others.

Connie was standing up, her eyes widened into saucers.  Ellen was crouched near the ground, still covering her ears... and in quite a state.  She was bawling and screaming, pounding her fists against the boulder in defeat.

What little hope Ellen had been clinging to had just evaporated.

"That's it!  Were not going to make it!  We're all going to die!  Oh god!  I don't want to die... please!  Something's going to eat us!  Someone's going to step on us!  The water... there's no water!  Oh god... we're never going to make it..."

Ellen's ramblings were growing into hysterics.  Maggie couldn't hear them, but wrapped her arms around her distraught friend to little effect.  Ellen's mind simply couldn't take any more, and who could blame her.

Maggie strapped her pack onto her back and Connie picked up the stretcher of beans.  Connie lead the way as Ellen clutched at her side, her sobbing never ceasing.  Maggie stopped above the hole again as Connie and Ellen made their way back to the edge of the wagon road.  She kissed her palm and placed it on the rock next to the burrow.

"Goodbye, Sandra... we love you."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ellen wasn't wrong.

With no water in the Nevada desert, they stood little chance of survival.  There was still a small amount of moisture deep inside of the beans, but not enough to survive on.  There would be no glass to collect dew, no convenient can of beans to be found in the days ahead.  There was nothing between them and Kern's Junction but unforgiving wasteland.  Emotions would run high as Connie and Maggie tried to fight off the maddening fear.  Ellen's quiet nature would return, but in a different and worrying way.  She became withdrawn, cutting herself off emotionally from the other two.  Like she was looking for answers within herself.

The desert is a cruel place for those not prepared for it.

Things were about to get very desperate.


End Part 21
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Fri Mar 19, 2021 5:59 pm

Part 22-"Ellen Rhodes Goes For A Midnight Stroll" 


Day seventeen.

Maggie stared down at her bloodied and calloused bare feet as each one struggled to place itself in front of the other.  She'd stopped looking ahead... the constant, unchanging stretch of land in front of her was far too depressing.  There was less than a third of the way left to travel, but she couldn't possibly know that.  Being so low to the ground obscured the buildings of Kern's Junction, far in the distance, from view.  But one foot in front of the other, for now she could mentally handle that.

Three days had passed since they'd lost Sandra.  The bean supply was dwindling and none of them had had a drop of water since before the train robbery, save what lied within the beans themselves.  A cool breeze had been blowing through the valley that day, offering reprieve from the heat that most certainly would have killed them by now.  There were even clouds in the sky, providing shade from the sun's harsh rays.

Connie was dragging the bean stretcher behind her, stumbling in the pebbles and trying not to fall from dizziness.  Her head pounded with a migraine from the extreme dehydration.  She was not going to let this goddamned desert beat her though.  She was more determined than ever to make it to Kern's Junction.  They'd simply come too far.

Ellen was less sure.  In fact, she hadn't spoken a word since they left the boulder.  She marched along further behind the other two and, like Maggie, was fixed on her foot placement in the jagged rocks.  Her hands were clasped together as if she were maintaining reverence in church.  Maggie had been keeping her eye on Ellen, getting deeply concerned about her mental state.  Ellen was just too quiet, even for Ellen.

Maggie wordlessly gestured for Connie to say something to Ellen, to try and bring her out of her own head.  She knew any kind gesture coming from Connie would mean the world to Ellen.  Connie took one look at Ellen and understood.

"Hey, El... why don't you come walk up here next to me?"

Ellen didn't reply, or even lift her head.  She just remained focused on the ground in front of her.  Connie returned her gaze to Maggie, now feeling just as worried as she was about Ellen.

Another parade of horses and wagons roared past the tiny women that day.  They were hauling sections of rail to replace the damaged portions of the line.  Maggie and Connie yelled at the tops of their lungs to try and catch someone's attention, yet again to no avail.  Ellen just stared at the ground, emotionless and tired.  

Pressing forward was the only option.  Pressing through the aching in their bones and the tiredness in their muscles.  Pressing through the thirst... the unrelenting, gnawing thirst.

Growing nearer with each step was an enormous prickly pear cactus, large even at normal height, but a mass of skyscrapers in a city block from their perspective.  Maggie and Connie stopped to admire it, both thinking about what Ellen had said weeks ago about not consuming cactus.  That was before they were on the brink of death.  Even adrift at sea, someone will eventually get thirsty enough to drink the sea water.

They waited for Ellen to catch up and presented the question to her.

"Ellen, honey... I know you said cactus could make us sick, but is there any chance?"  Asked Connie.

Ellen looked up and down the gigantic plant with absolutely no emotion on her face.  "Prickly pears are the least likely to make you ill... not that it really matters... we'd just be prolonging the inevitable... we're going to die anyway."

It wasn't what Ellen had said that sent a chill through Maggie's spine, she couldn't hear her response anyway.  It was how little feeling Ellen seemed to have about it.  Ellen thought they were going to die, and had quietly accepted it... even welcomed it.  Her reluctance to join Connie was a red flag in and of itself.  

Connie snatched another match from Maggie's pack, leaving just one left.  She pulled the dagger from the strand of thread holding her poncho against her body and then took off down the embanked side of the wagon rut, climbing up the other side.  The woman's energy and stamina astounded Maggie.  Ellen simply continued to gaze at the ground.  The prickly pear towered above Connie, some of its needles longer than her arm.  

Connie set her glass dagger down and struck the match ablaze on a nearby rock in a single stroke.  She held the tiny torch to a patch of needles at their bases, causing them to burn off and leaving an open and safe place to cut into the cactus' tough skin.  She jammed the dagger into the green surface as hard as she could and used her body weight to drag it down, leaving a long cut in the plant.  She repeated this until she had several manageable pieces cut from the cactus.

"What are you two waiting for?!  Do I have to do everything myself?!"  Connie snarked from across the duel valleys of the wagon road.

Maggie began to make her way down the steep side and then stopped when she saw Ellen hadn't moved.

"Come on, Ellen.  We have to try?" 

"Why?"  Ellen replied, staring down at Maggie with the same cold, emotionless eyes as before.

Maggie easily made out the simple one word answer on Ellen's lips and pleaded with her, "because, if we die now... if we give up, then Greta and Sandra died for nothing.  Greta saved my life, remember?!  Fuck, YOU saved my life, El.  I can't stop now, not even if I wanted to.  Come on, we have to try..."

Despite Ellen's resolve to accept her fate, a single tear rolled down her cheek... and she reluctantly took Maggie's outstretched hand.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cactus proved to be a solid choice.  It tasted awful and consuming it resulted in mildly upset stomachs for all of them, but they didn't vomit and they didn't get diarrhea.  They didn't dare eat any more than necessary, not wanting to press their luck with getting sick.  Maggie prayed its moisture would provide them with another day's travel... just one more day.  

The tent was set up for the night.  Maggie crawled up next to Connie on one side, but Ellen kept her distance.  Connie hadn't realized how used she'd gotten to having Ellen pressed against her at night until then... and how much she wanted her there.

"C'mon, El... uh... better snuggle up tight... I'd hate for you to...," as much as she just wanted Ellen close to her, Connie's ego got in the way, "you never know when you'll run out of chances to feel my sweet ass agin' ya."  She kicked herself the moment the words left her mouth.  

"Why the fuck can't I just be real with her?"  Connie thought to herself.

"El?  Ellen?" She whispered.  Ellen just rolled onto her side, turning her back to Connie.  Connie turned her head back towards Maggie and mouthed the words, "what do we do?"

"I wish I knew," Maggie mouthed back.

The pair lay awake for quite a while after that, silently staring at the words backlit by moonlight on the walls of the tent.  Maggie would pass out before Connie, neither aware of what Ellen had planned.

That is, until Connie awoke to a whisper in her ear...

"Cooooonnie... Coooonnie... wake up..."

Connie tried to adjust her eyes in the dark.  She could barely make out Ellen's backlit shape as she leaned over her.  One of Ellen's legs locked itself around Connie's waist and in one swift motion, she was straddling the confused redhead.  Maggie barely stirred and rolled away at the touch of Ellen's leg.

"El... what... what the fuck are you doin'!"  Connie asked, groggily.

Ellen placed her index finger on Connie's lips to silence her.  She leaned down and whispered into Connie's ear.

"Please... Connie... I... I don't know how much time we have left.  I'm tired... and I'm tired of hiding myself from you.  Please... let me be with you... just once.  Let me make you feel good... please... help me feel something."

Connie felt Ellen's fingers tracing past her breasts and down the length of her torso.  The usually brash, loud mouthed, and cocky woman was suddenly speechless, quivering beneath her friend.  Ellen leaned in and planted her lips on Connie's.  There was no reaction at first, but then Ellen felt Connie's hand grip her hair and Connie returned Ellen's kiss... passionately.  Ellen drew herself away from Connie's mouth eager to taste her neck... her shoulders... her breasts.  The taste of dirt and sweat filled her mouth, but she didn't care... she finally had what she'd desired for so long.

Connie writhed under Ellen's touch.  Ellen took her time making her way to Connie's sex, which drove Connie crazy with desire.  It would seem Connie needed to feel something... something good as badly as Ellen did.  When Ellen finally reached Connie's hungry mound, a moist spot had grown on the paper beneath her.  She slowly worked a pair of fingers in and out while lapping at Connie's button.  Even as Connie came, Ellen would give her no break.  She just continued to tongue and thrust her digits inside of Connie, demanding orgasm after orgasm.  Time no longer had meaning.

As Connie was left a writhing pool of jelly on the paper floor, Ellen climbed further up the redhead's body and positioned her own thirsty sex above Connie's face.

"Please... Connie... make me feel good... as if it's the last time."

"I've... I've... never done this to a woman befo-mmmm," Connie found herself cut off as Ellen's vagina smothered her mouth.  Connie sucked and lapped and worked her tongue in and out as Ellen rode her face like she was breaking a horse.  After her first orgasm in weeks, Ellen spun around on Connie's head and resumed work on Connie's sensitive lady bits.  She and Connie would continue to pleasure each other until neither had the energy left to continue.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to work each other into a sweat when every drop is so precious, but psychologically it was what both needed... release.  The two of them panted and stared up at the large figures written in the roof of the paper tent.

"My... god... El...," Connie began, still trying to catch her breath, "I guess what they say about you is true."  She chuckled to herself a little.  "Does this mean I'm in the club, too?"

Ellen shushed Connie with her finger again and then ran it up and down her moist, naked body. "Please, Connie... don't ruin this by saying something stupid and mean."

Ellen nuzzled against the redhead's skin, admiring the various places Connie's freckles had appeared on it over the years.  She traced lines with her fingers between Connie's little moles and blemishes like connecting stars into constellations.  She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Connie.

"Thank you, Connie.  Thank you for one last moment of joy before it's all over.  I don't expect you to understand... or even feel the same... just know that I love you, and I always will."

Connie felt a shiver run up her spine seeing the contented smile on Ellen's face after the somewhat ominous words she'd just spoken.

"Ellen, I love you too... but what the fuck are you talking about?"

For a third time, Ellen raised her finger to Connie's lips and shushed her.

"Just go to sleep, Connie... we'll see each other in the morning."

Connie found it hard to do so with Ellen's strange statement still rattling around in her head.  What exactly did she mean by 'before it's all over'?

Maggie didn't stir until morning, remaining completely unaware of what had just transpired between Connie and Ellen.  Hear weekend state, exhaustion, and deafness saw to that.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The paper covering of the doorway flapped open in the morning breeze.  The light flashing against the backs of Maggie's eyelids forced her awake.  She opened her eyes to see Connie's giant face, still fast asleep.  She pushed herself up as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.  She felt hungry and desperately thirsty.  

That's when she noticed Ellen was gone, her poncho still stacked in the corner with the others.

Maggie got up and nudged Connie to wake up.  Connie just grunted and rolled onto her stomach.  Maggie exited the tent, making sure to secure the entry flap so the wind would not carry it off.  She looked around their camp site... no Ellen.  Maggie called out to her... no response, not that she would have heard it anyway.  There was a small rise near camp, not much more than an anthill to us, but a sizable hill to tiny Maggie.  She began to scale it, hoping to get a better view of the surrounding area.  She tried to suppress the growing panic in her chest as she climbed.

Ellen's behavior over the past few days had been worrisome, to say the least.  Would she have just given up?  Wandering off into the desert in an abandonment of hope?

A single rock sat at the top of the hill, at least a portion of it.  It looked like there was much more buried beneath, perhaps the entire hill she was standing on.  Behind the rock she could see Ellen's bare legs and feet stretched out in the dirt.  It was a familiar scene, one she found herself in after the incident with the rattlesnake, only this time their roles were reversed.  Maggie felt herself breath a sigh of relief, but then... the sight beyond, in the distance... were those... buildings?!

It was Kern's Junction alright.  Two rows of false fronts on either side of the track.  Branches of the railroad split off from the end near the round house to other mining towns in the surrounding mountains.  Small shacks and tents were scattered around the main buildings.  It was still quite a distance... but it was in sight.

Maggie rushed to the side of Ellen, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head, "Oh my god... OH MY GOD!  Ellen!  Ellen were almost there!  Ellen...," Maggie turned her head towards her friend... and the joy she was feeling drained out of her very soul.  She clasped the side sides of her head and screamed...

"CONNIEEEEEE!"

Connie snapped out of her sleep and sat up.  Where were Ellen and Maggie?

"CONNIEEEEEEEEEE!"

Connie leapt to her feet and dashed out of the tent, not even bothering to grab her poncho.  Something was wrong, she could feel it in her gut.  Desperately, she scanned the area, until she could hear the direction Maggie's screams were coming from.  She knew Maggie wouldn't be able to hear her if she replied.

"CONNIEEEEEEEE!  PLEEEEEEASE!"

Connie darted up the hill in the direction of Maggie's screaming.  She saw the rock protrusion... she saw Maggie kneeling on the ground sobbing... she was holding a bloodied hand in both of her own.  Connie's heart raced.  She didn't want to come any closer,  but knew she must.  She crept around the other side of the rock...

...and her heart broke.

Ellen was propped against the rock.  Her eyes wide open... lifeless.  Tears smeared the dirt on her face into trails beneath her eyes.  Connie's glass dagger was lying next to Ellen's leg.  Deep gashes were carved into Ellen's wrists.  Pools of blood had collected under her hands and since dried and soaked into the dirt.  Her skin... her skin was pale... almost blue.

Connie stood in silence.  Her mouth hung agape, her stomach wrenched with more than just hunger and thirst.  Her brain struggled to process the scene before her while Maggie screamed and bawled, still clutching Ellen's cold hand.  Connie's attention was pulled away to see their Mecca in the distance, and then back to Ellen.

"It's there... it's right there... couldn't she see it?  We're so close... Ellen... why?"  Connie mumbled... mostly to herself, knowing Maggie was incapable of hearing anything she said.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ellen had left in the dark.  She lightly kissed Connie's cheek and stroked the sleeping woman's hair one last time before picking up the dagger and walking naked into the cold night air.  She felt her way towards the hill, where she'd made a mental decision the day before while Connie was setting up the tent to do what she intended to do.  There were no lights to be seen coming from Kern's Junction so late at night... she didn't even know it was there.  There was only moonlight and stars to see her off.

Ellen sat against the protruding rock with her legs out in front of her.  She began crying
even before she ran the sharp edge of the glass across the first wrist.  With the deed done, she dropped the dagger at her side and tilted her head back to watch the stars as her life slowly drained away.  She had no idea what came after this life, but it couldn't be worse than suffering in this one and watching her friends die, one by one.  She had lost her child... her husband... Greta... Sandra.  She felt tired, and ready to go out on her terms.

She thought about her husband Tom, whom she still loved dearly... possibly somewhere waiting for her...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Connie walked away for a moment, trying to control herself... trying to suppress the geyser of emotions about to explode in her.  She turned back again to look into Ellen's sad, empty eyes... and came completely undone.  She darted back to Ellen's body, sunk to her knees and began shaking the lifeless shell, in a mad, desperate attempt to undo what had been done.

"NO NO NO NO NO!  WAAAAKE UUUUUP!  YOU DON'T GET TO DO THIS!  WAAAAAAKE UUUUUUP!  NOT NOW... I NEED YOU!"  Connie screamed as she slapped Ellen's face.

Maggie was barely holding it together, but was caught off guard by Connie's meltdown.  She tried to take Connie's hand, "Oh god, Connie... I don't understand!  Why'd she do it?  Why'd she just give up?"

Connie's rage boiled over and she shoved Maggie away with such force that it sent her flying onto her backside.  Maggie cried out in shock, "what the fuck, Connie?!"

Connie only glared at the tiny brunette and screamed, "don't you dare... don't you dare talk about her like that!"

Maggie shut her eyes and sobbed, throwing rocks in any direction she could out of frustration, screaming.  She opened her eyes to see Connie, forehead to forehead with Ellen.  She kissed Ellen's blue lips with the sort of gentle passion Maggie had no idea Connie was capable of.  It became clear to her that something had happened between the two of them.  Connie slumped so top of her head was beneath Ellen's chin and wailed and cried and clawed at Ellen's corpse.

Connie opened her tear filled eyes, realizing what she had just done to Maggie. She crawled across Ellen's lap towards the smaller woman.  Maggie recoiled, thinking she was about to get attacked again only to have Connie lift her to her chest and hug her for all her life.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry Maggie... please I'm so sorry... don't leave me, too.  Please don't leave me, too... oh god... why?!"  

Despite Connie's near crushing comparable strength, Maggie needed it as bad as Connie did.  They held each other throughout the morning.  Maggie eventually freed herself from Connie's embrace and closed Ellen's eyes with her hands.  Connie could barely move, her legs feeling boneless and weak.  

They had to bury her somehow.  She'd be first of those who'd died to get that distinction.  The ground was too hard to dig a hole even if they had something to dig with.  All they could do is pile pebbles up, one by one on top of her.  They decided that the hill top was as good a place as any.  It was a lovely spot with views of the desert all around... not that they thought they'd ever get to return... just that Ellen might like it.  She had chosen it after all. 

Before the burial, they pulled her poncho over her head and then laid her flat on the ground, the outcropping serving as her headstone.  It took several hours to complete the task, each of them walking up and down the hill to retrieve more stones, an arduous task even if they weren't already so weak.  When done, a burial mound marked the last resting place of Ellen Rhodes, daughter of a mountain man and and a native woman, wife and mother to one.

Maggie and Connie reluctantly packed up camp and left the scene, hand in hand... weeping and broken.


End Part 22
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Fri Mar 19, 2021 6:19 pm

I've dreaded posting this last chapter. I looked for ways around it, other ways for things to go down, but none of them had the emotional feel I was looking for. My intention is not to trigger anyone as I know very well suicide is a serious subject. As happened with PP and S, I set out to write a fetish story and ended up with a character drama. I felt myself tearing up as I wrote it and again as I proof read it. It's not that I think it's a particularly impressive bit of writing, but that I somehow managed to put my own emotions on page. As someone who has dealt with severe clinical depression his entire life, I know what it's like to have dangerous thoughts running through my head. That's why support from our families, friendships, and even outlets like this site are important for us. Somehow, we're a bunch or weirdos who found each other through this bizarre little fantasy and we can express ourselves here without judgement.

Anyway, I'm not sure if this is the right place for this rant, but I felt the need to put it out there. Please know that if any of you are feeling like there's always someone to talk to, hell, contact me if you have to. I'll even post the suicide help line number here if it helps.

Thanks for reading, I hope this didn't bum anyone out too much.

BTB

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1 800 273 8255
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Sat Mar 20, 2021 10:35 pm

Part 23-"Deluge" 


"You think this is the last time we'll ever look at them, Maggie?"  Connie nudged her half-sized companion to get her attention and then repeated the question slowly, giving Maggie a chance to try and read her lips, "the stars... do you think this will be the last night we ever see them?"

"I hope not, Connie.”

Maggie gripped at Connie's hand with both of own as the two of them resumed their skyward gaze. Both women felt weak and sick. A simple turn of the head sent waves of dizziness through their heads. Neither was certain they’d make it through the night.

After having to say goodbye to another close friend, Maggie and Connie forced themselves to press forward with heavy hearts and heavier legs.  The oppressive heat had returned that afternoon driving the duo nearly mad with thirst. Another prickly pear would have stood out like a sore thumb, but there were none in sight.  Connie was too exhausted and thirsty to continue to drag the bean stretcher behind her, so she and Maggie each packed one bean each in hopes that it would be enough to get them to Kern's Junction.  Even those were abandoned by the evening.  

Each step felt harder and more labored.  Both women found themselves crawling along the edge of the wagon road.  Every knee forward more exhausting than the last and torn up by the offending rocks beneath them. The sun continued to beat down on them with indifference.  Their lips cracked and their throats scratched.  From time to time they'd black out, only to wake again to this endless living hell.

As night approached, all they could manage was to unroll the tent and lay on top of it.  Each of them seemed to understand without saying it that this was it... this may be their last night on earth.  They held each other close and watched the sun drop behind the mountains.  

"Does it feel to you like we're being picked off?"  Maggie asked and then turned her head towards Connie again to elaborate.  "I don't know... it's just something I've been thinking about.  We've lost our three best friends, four if you count Arnold.  First Greta... then Sandra... and just days later Ellen.  Is it just our turn?"

There was silence for a short time that felt like much longer.

"No... I don't think so, Ma..." Connie wheezed.  She paused briefly to gather her thoughts, "I don't think there's some master puppeteer up there pulling strings on the rest of us down here.  Bad shit happens to everyone, reckon we just got more than our fair share."

More silence.

"You don't think they're up there... lookin' down in us?"  Maggie asked.

"Not really," Connie replied, stiffening her lip.

Maggie rolled onto her side and rested her head on her hands.  "Why not?"

Connie spoke slow and deliberately, making sure Maggie got every word, "well... 'spose it was either of us, switched places I mean.  Wouldn't you be tryin' like hell to get the head honcho to either end this nightmare or throw them a bone?"

Maggie thought about it quietly for a moment and then responded, "yeah... I guess that makes sense.  But what if we're the ones prolonging this hell?  What if our friends and family are just... what if they're screaming at us to join them and we're too stubborn to give in?"

It was Connie's turn to quietly contemplate.  "I guess I hadn't thought of it that way.  Are you suggesting what I think you are, Ma?"  Connie reached for the glass dagger and held it close to her face, then looked back to Maggie.

"What if Ellen...," Maggie could just barely bring herself to finish her thought, getting choked up in the process. “What if Ellen had the right idea?”

Connie returned her attention to the dagger and thought for a moment. “I’ll do it for you, Ma... if that’s what you want. You won’t have to do it yourself. It... it would break my heart, but I’d do anything for you.”

Maggie reached for out the dagger which Connie carefully handed over to her. Maggie held the glass shard close to her face as Connie had and then tossed it aside. “That thing has tasted enough blood, don’t you think? Besides... like I said... the two of us are just too stubborn.” Maggie gave Connie a small grin which she politely returned.

"I'm sorry, Connie."

Connie turned her head to catch Maggie beginning to cry... or at least trying to.  The tiny brunette was so dehydrated that the tears wouldn't come, just leaving her eyes reddened and winced.

"I'm sorry I failed you... I'm sorry I failed everyone," Maggie sobbed. “If I’m... if we...,’ she choked, “if the morning doesn’t come, please know that I love you... and Ellen... and Sandra... and Greta. You’re my family.”

Connie pulled Maggie closer and held her. "I love you too, Ma... and you have nothing to apologize for.  I think... I think we just found ourselves in an impossible situation with an inevitable outcome...

...we just bit off more than we could chew."

Maggie didn't even try to follow Connie's lips, only burying her head into Connie's side.  Feeling like this could be the end, the pair stayed awake as long as their exhausted bodies would allow.  Looking for anything that might help her fight off the overpowering drowsiness, Maggie looked up at Connie's face and asked for something strange.

"Connie?"

"Yeah, Ma..."

"Do you have anymore dirty limericks?"

"Are you serious?"

"Seems as good a time as any."

Connie thought hard for a minute, struggling to stay awake.

"There once was a man from..."

Maggie passed out before the end of the first verse. Connie looked down at Maggie for what she thought was the last time. She closed her own eyes and let her muscles relax.

"Well, Ma... if this is it... it's been a pleasure knowin' ya."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie realized she was still alive, though she wasn't yet sure if she was grateful of disappointed by the fact.  Something had hit her in the chest, bringing her out of her slumber.  She struggled to open her dry, irritated eyes.  It was light out, but the light was dim and grey.  As her eyes adjusted she could see that the sky was completely clouded over.  Then she realized that the tattered and ripped paper poncho she was wearing was wet.  Moisture was soaking into the fibers quicker than she could find the will to move.

"What the hell?"

No sooner had she finished the sentence than a globe of water came crashing down from the sky and hit her square in the head, knocking her back down to the ground.  She shook off the impact and then slurped as much of the precious liquid as she could as it beaded up on her face.  Another drop crashed nearby, then another and another.  Though still weak, Maggie's heart raced with excitement.

"Connie!  Connie wake up!  Connie... it's raining!"  Maggie struggled to yell through her dry, hoarse throat... completely unaware of how weak it sounded.

Connie didn't move.  

Maggie nudged the larger woman's shoulder and still, Connie didn't stir.  

"No... no please... come on Connie... not now."

She climbed onto Connie's torso and began shaking the unresponsive redhead.  More and more raindrops slammed into the ground with the force of small bombs.

"Connie!  Connie WAKE UP!" Maggie shouted, growing more and more panicked.  Don't you leave me here alone, CONNIE!"  Maggie covered her eyes, not wanting to accept what was happening.

Maggie raised the back of her hand and slapped Connie across the face as hard as she could.  Connie's head bounced to the side and then back again.

Then slowly, almost painfully... Connie's eyes opened.  Through her blurred vision, she thought she saw Ellen's face in front of her own... until focus shifted her hallucination into reality.  She was initially confused as to why Maggie was on top of her looking scared, then she looked past her towards the sky.

"Huh... cloudy out today."

Maggie felt the vibration of Connie's voice through the larger woman's chest beneath her.  She pulled her hands away in surprise and then let out a relieved laugh.

"Jesus Christ, Connie... I thought I'd lost you!"

Just then, the sky ripped open with a deluge.  The region had not seen a storm like this in decades and wouldn't see another one for decades more.  Even with the massive raindrops stinging her back, she filled her hands and allowed Connie to sip from them.

"I can't believe it Connie!  It's... it's a goddamned miracle!" She leaned down and kissed Connie hard on the lips, “maybe our friends had that talk with the big man upstairs after all!”

The two began laughing, hope returning once again.  Just then, a drop hit Maggie in the back of the head, causing her to knock heads with Connie.  Maggie rubbed the pain in her forehead as Connie simultaneously rubbed the throbbing in her nose.

"Maybe we should get out of this!"  Connie yelled.  Maggie watched her lips and agreed.  They achingly struggled to their feet and made for the nearest sagebrush.  It didn't keep them from getting wet, but it softened the impact from the gigantic stinging raindrops.  It also allowed them to drink as much as they wanted as the rain trickled down the branches of the plant. 

Their paper frocks were never meant to be more than covering from the sun.  The paper soaked up the heavy rainfall and disintegrated under its own weight, leaving Maggie and Connie naked and exposed.  Still, they used it as an opportunity to wash the weeks of dirt and sweat from their bodies, with the sage plant above them trickling water like a shower.

The storm would last most of the day, dumping more water than the valley had seen since before anyone had settled it.  What seemed like a gift, would come with its own challenges.  For an ecosystem not accustomed to this sort of event, the results can often be catastrophic.


End Part 23
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Sat Mar 20, 2021 11:20 pm

Part 24-"Washout"

Day eighteen.

The rain fell faster and harder than the dry desert soil could absorb.  Before long, flash floods cascaded down the canyons of the surrounding mountains.  Mud and rocks and other debris were carried down to the valley floor.  The wagon road and railroad grade acted almost like canals, directing flood water towards Kern’s Junction, and the equivalent of a tsunami towards Maggie and Connie.

The tiny duo were unaware of the drama unfolding behind them.  They were struggling along through the deepening mud along the edge of the wagon road.  Thick, brown water poured over the edge like miniature waterfalls, any one of them with enough force and surface tension to pull the miniature women over with it.

Even with the rain still pounding at their backs, they made the decision to press forward through it.  The towering buildings along Main Street of Kern's Junction were so painfully close that neither of them could bring themselves to wait.  If they slogged through the rain and the mud, they could reach the outskirts of town in perhaps a couple of days.

The wind chilled their wet naked bodies and they clutched to each other for warmth.  As much as a woman half the size of the other could provide, anyway.  Occasionally Connie would carry Maggie over the deeper streams pouring into the wagon ruts below.  She worried that Maggie would get carried off much easier through one of the streams, not much more than trickles to us. 

Connie struggled through the slippery mud and water, laughing to herself about the irony of the situation, "I guess when it rains it pours, don't it Ma?"

They pushed forward, ever forward.  The small rail town of Kern's Junction drew closer.  It's humble buildings seeming like geometric wooden mountains, each building's footings consuming the comparative space of many city blocks, comparatively.  

So close... so close.

It was faint at first, but Connie felt a rumbling beneath her feet.  She ignored, thinking maybe it was just the rain pounding the earth.  But even as Kern's Junction’s buildings grew closer and larger with each step, as did the vibration in the ground... until it could be ignored no more.

"Maggie?"

Maggie didn't respond, Connie was still adjusting to her friend's deafness.  She set Maggie down on the ground.  As she did, Connie crouched low and placed her hand palm down in the mud.

"Ma... do you feel that?"

Maggie had felt it the second her toes touched the ground.  She and Connie looked at each other with fear.  Was it the rail crew?  The posse returning with the Pepper Gang's bullet riddled bodies?

"Dear god... can we just catch a fucking break?"  Connie asked rhetorically, her voice sounding broken and tired.

Maggie saw it first.

Connie was facing Maggie, seeing the fear in her eyes... and then the urine released down her leg.  Maggie was shaking, once again frozen in fear.  Connie knew she needed to turn, but felt her knees weaken with terror.  She forced herself anyway.

A brown tidal wave of mud, small limbs and rocks was racing at them faster than they would ever be able to outrun.  Connie grabbed Maggie by the hand and took off towards the railroad grade.  Acting on pure instinct, she raced and screamed as her feet sunk into the mud with each step.

"Oh fuck.. oh fuck... we're not going to make it!"  She screamed.

"There!"  Maggie shouted, pointing at a massive sage bush.  "Connie!  We have to climb!"

The first wave was now upon them, most of it still contained in the road.  But it soon spilled over the sides and spread outwards, chasing them down like a lahar without a volcano.

They reached the base of the giant plant and franticly began pulling themselves up its dry, brittle branches.  The water had reached the base and was rising fast.  It flowed underneath them, carrying loose rock and dead sagebrush with it.  The rocks would hit the rooted one they were climbing, shaking it violently.  Still they climbed, adrenaline and desperation fueling their ascent.  Tired and weak, they reached as high as the plant could support them.  

The water continued to rise.  More rocks pounded at the plant's base while the lighter material bunched up around its mid section.  The roots strained to hold to the ground and the bush leaned into the muddy flow.  Maggie and Connie clung tightly to the prickly branches, screaming and crying.  The water was nearly at their feet, the plant swayed wildly in the surge.

Connie was shaken loose.

She tried to grab hold of something, but fell into the deadly flood.  She was sure she was dead, even as time slowed down... her life flashed before her eyes.  

But a single tiny hand slid into her own.  She gripped it and pulled her head above the surface.  Maggie was gripping a branch with her legs, dangling outwards after a split second move to try and catch Connie.  

"Connie!  You're gonna have to pull yourself out... I'm too small... I'm not strong enough!"  Maggie screamed through the chaos.  Her legs throbbed with pain as she tried to keep them locked together with the rushing water wanting to rip Connie away with each passing second. She still felt weak from days without water, but refused to let go by shear will.

One hand over the other, Connie pulled herself up Maggie's arm.. then her torso... until she could finally grasp the branch Maggie was clinging to.  The branch bobbed up and down violently.  Any second she and Maggie could find themselves beyond help.

Ahead of them, the flood was washing out Main Street along the tracks and filling cellars with soupy water.  A minor flood by any standards, but more than a raging Mississippi to a pair of traumatized women; one less than five inches tall, the other less than three.

It seemed like an eternity of bobing up and down, back and forth before the water finally began to subside.  The flood had washed out a section of the railroad grade and found a new means of escape far back near the mill.  The roaring flood slowed and calmed, as it dropped.  Maggie saw this as an opportunity.

"Do you trust me, Connie?"

Connie looked at Maggie with disbelief, somehow knowing what she was going to suggest... the kind of thing that comes with years of friendship.

"Oh Christ... you can't be serious!"

Maggie took Connie's hand and looked her in the eye, flashing Connie the first real smile she'd felt stretch across her face in days.

"We go on three.  Ready?"

"Oh fuck... fuck... fuck," Connie chanted

"One..."

"I can't believe we're doing this...," Connie continued.

"Two..."

Connie braced herself for three, but Maggie already jumped, pulling Connie off the branch with her.

"Damn you, M--grgllglfl," cursed Connie as she hit the water.

Both women bobbed to the surface.  They swam towards one another, fighting the current.  The flood was still very strong and they fought hard to keep their heads above the crest.  

"Look!  Connie!  There!  Grab that!"  Maggie shouted, gasping for air as her head bobbed up and down out of the water.

A small piece of wood was floating nearby.  They swam towards it as hard a they could.  It wasn't much, maybe a few inches across, but it was enough to keep their heads above water.  Maggie was small enough to get her entire body on the small chunk, but Connie could only get her torso, her legs still dangling in the water.  They both clutched to the edges as the flow carried them towards a waterfall.

"On fuck... Maggie... don't let go!"  Connie screamed.

The falls were simply where the flood was emptying into the road.  If anyone was there, they might have heard a pair of tiny screams as they went over the edge and into the the main current.  They never lost their grip and miraculously remained afloat.  From there the river would almost calmly carry the pair into the heart of Kern's Junction.

Connie flipped onto her back and Maggie did the same.  Completely exhausted the two stared at the approaching buildings and marveled at their size as they passed each of them.  Maggie panted, but the panting soon turned to laughter.  Connie couldn't help but join in.

It was impossible, inconceivable.  The odds that any of them could have come this far would have broke Vegas.  They'd made it through a hundred miles of desert within ten that did everything in its power to stop them.

They'd made it.

Maggie noticed that her palms were black when she caught a glimpse of them. She leaned over the edge to see what looked like char along the edges.  She leaned back, looking at her palms and began laughing again.  She caught Connie looking at her puzzled and she showed Connie the blackened marks on her hands and arms.

"You won't believe this, Connie... but our raft... it came from Heaven."


End Part 24
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Sun Mar 21, 2021 9:49 pm

Part 25-"Kern's Junction" 


The smell.  Let's just say... it's not what our tiny heroines would have expected upon finally reaching what they perceived as the promised land.  As the cellars of Kern's Junction flooded with water, so did the local outhouses.  Raw sewage had poured out of the shallow toilets and emptied into the streets.  Maggie and Connie found themselves floating in a billabong of human waste.  Had the duo had anything in their stomachs but rain water, it most certainly would have been purged.  Hardly the greeting anyone who'd been through what they had would have wanted.

"Let's try to paddle towards the rails," suggested Maggie.  

The tops of the locomotive rails were still above water, giving the tiny pair a perfect means for searching for the physician's office.  Connie kicked her legs in the disgusting soup while Maggie leaned over the edge of the drifting piece of wood and paddled with her arms.  Both felt sick having their limbs submerged in the sludge.  They paddled past what appeared to be islands in the flood water, but were actually piles of horse manure that scattered the streets.  The water had become nearly stagnant by the time they reached the center of town.  Gopher-sized flies had already gathered above them, filling the air with their unnerving hum.  The town's cellars having filled up kept the flood from washing away the entirety of Main Street, the far end mostly becoming a muddy quagmire.

As if someone had shut off a valve, the rain stopped and the sun began peak through the cloud cover.  It was early in the afternoon, but knowing that being soaking wet, both women knew they could easily freeze to death when night finally fell.

Maggie and Connie made it to the rail, slipping several times on its smooth surface before finally pulling themselves out of the vomit inducing water and onto the cold iron beam.  Neither of them had seen a sign for a doctor's office as they floated into town, so they continued towards the far end along their iron causeway.  As they walked, the water noticeably began to fall, soaking into the thirsty desert soil.  Before long, the rail ties were visible amongst the swampy road that stretched out towards the enormous buildings.  

Giants began to appear in the towering door frames.  Maggie and Connie screamed to them for help, but the townspeople were far too concerned with the destruction of Main Street and their leaking foundations to notice a pair of rodent-sized women.

"How are we gonna do this, Ma?"  Connie asked, or rather mouthed to Maggie.  Maggie seemed confused by the question.

"Even when we find the doctor's office, what then?  So far we've been too small for anyone to notice us... how do we get his, or for that matter, anyone else's attention?"

"I don't know, Connie.  I've been so preoccupied with getting us here that I honestly haven't thought about it.  We'll just have to climb up onto the sidewalk there and stay out of the way of foot traffic until someone goes inside or comes out.  We can make a mad dash to get in, then maybe our voices will carry a bit more inside the smaller space."

The thought of being stepped on by one of these giants sent a chill down Connie's spine.  She'd handled herself about as well as anyone could have during this terrible journey, but the idea of coming this far only to be scraped off the bottom of someone's boot... to be discarded and forgotten... this thought really shook her.

"There it is!"  Maggie shouted, snapping Connie free from her dreadful thoughts.

A sign in bold lettering at the top of one of the false fronts read:

Henry Johnson, MD
Doctor of Medicine

"Perhaps the simple folk of Kern's Junction didn't know what MD stood for," Maggie thought amusedly to herself.

The only thing left between the two women and possible salvation was a boggy,  muddy plain as the flood water continued to soak into the ground. Connie hopped down off the rail first, assisting Maggie down to the tie. They crept to the edge of the massive wooden tie and tested the ground with their feet.  Though soft, it seemed manageable.

"Here goes nothin'," Maggie thought out loud and stepped out into the street.  She cautiously walked forward, her feet sinking up to the ankle in mud.  She was able to put her next foot in front... and then the next.  "I... I think it's alright, Connie," she shouted without turning back.

Connie stepped out as well, she weighed more than Maggie and was worried that she might sink in further, but her longer legs allowed her to slog through it.  "For fuck sake...  isn't this just perfect, up to my goddamn knees in shit," she groaned.

As more and more residents stepped outside their businesses to assess the damage, they also ran into the street.  Suddenly Maggie and Connie found themselves in a gauntlet of gigantic falling feet.  The thick muck made hasty movements nearly impossible.  The giants' enormous boots would come crashing down in nearly every direction.  As one would fall, another would appear, splashing the tiny women with wet earth and excrement.  As another would rise, the pair would get swept into a newly formed pond the shape of that particular giant's boot sole.  The pair scraped and clawed and swam their way towards the wooden steps, with every second spent in the expansive shitmire potentially a second closer to being crushed.

Maggie and Connie were getting lucky, but the close calls just kept getting closer.  They were over half way across the street when a gigantic woman's boot crashed down directly in front of Maggie.  The uplift of the shoe sent sludge flying over the top of her, knocking her into another shoe print that was quickly filling with water.

"Connie!  Help!" Maggie screamed as she struggled to free herself from under the heavy mud.  A rock had rolled over her leg and pinned her to the bottom with more mud and fecal matter piling in on top of it.  The water flowed in fast and she could just barely keep her head above it.

Connie reached into the pool-sized shoe print with both hands and grabbed Maggie by a single arm... she was stuck.  Maggie started to scream, but the rising water silenced her as it filled up past her nose.  Connie dug her heels in and leaned backwards, pulling Maggie up just enough so she could breath.  Maggie gasped for air and cried in terror.

"Please Connie!  Get me out of here!  Please don't let me die like this!"  Maggie sobbed and gagged as she accidentally swallowed a mouthful of water, and god knows what else.

Connie pulled as hard as she could.  She didn't realize how far she was sinking in herself.  Her only concern was that of saving her Maggie.  Straining her muscles to free the tiny woman from the pit, her hands slipped and she fell backwards with a splash.  As she tried to push herself back up in the soft, sticky mud, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.  A pair of horses were coming up the road side by side... no....it was an entire team, pulling a mammoth stagecoach behind them.

And it was heading straight for them.

"Oh god... oh fuck...," Connie whispered to herself in stunned horror.  She leaned back over and doubled her efforts to free Maggie.

Maggie couldn't hear the the approaching team, but she could feel the vibration of falling hooves through the water.  When she saw the look of terror in Connie's eyes, she knew they were in serious trouble.  Her gaze followed Connie's... and if she wasn't panicked before, which she most certainly was, now she was petrified.

"Connie.... please.... help me...," she begged, her voice quivering.

The first horse was upon them, another behemoth the likes of which they'd narrowly escaped before.  It's hooves kicking up waves of mud and water as it approached.  The first landed a comfortable distance away but the rear one landed in the same boot print that Maggie was trapped in.  The displacement caused by the giant hoof gave Connie just the oomph she needed to yank Maggie free.  She pulled with such force that Maggie flung over the top and behind her in an arc.

"WOOOOAH!"  A male voice boomed from above them, the coachman trying to keep his team from running further into the flooded road.

Maggie got to her feet only to find Connie, lodged nearly to her waist, completely unable to move.  Maggie grabbed Connie's arm and started to pull... to no avail, she was simply to small and too weak to make any difference.  The coach wheel had slowed, but was rumbling closer, parting the sludge as if it were Moses himself... and the tiny women were directly in its path.  Maggie was beside herself with fear, desperately trying to free Connie from the ground and certain death.

"Go, Maggie...," Connie said sullenly, but also strangely calm.

Shock filled Maggie's face, "no... no!  I can't...  I won't leave you!"

Time stood still.  Connie kissed Maggie's tiny hand and tried to smile, being betrayed by the tears streaming down her face.  "It's ok, Maggie.  You saved my life today... now I reckon it's my turn to return the favor.  Please... go."

"NO!  I WON'T DO IT,  CONNIE...," Maggie screamed, sobbing and sliding in the slick wet earth, still yanking on Connie's arm.

"I love you, Maggie... NOW FUCKING GO!"  

Connie shoved Maggie with enough force to send her flying backwards where she splashed into another flooded boot print.

Maggie only heard a short yelp, a scream cut short as Connie disappeared under the wheel.


End Part 25
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Sun Mar 21, 2021 11:53 pm

Part 26-"Regret"  


August 4, 1892


"You... you.... you low down, good for nothin'... sonofabitch!"  Maggie scolded.  

She'd never felt such rage in her entire life.  One of the local busybodies in Heaven had stopped by for tea the previous day, only to inform her that Maggie's husband, William, been seen cavorting with the local soiled doves. She couldn’t even look him in the eye the entire evening after he got home and only finally worked up the courage to confront him that morning.

Maggie wasn’t sure what infuriated her more, the fact that he did it or that he didn’t seem to care that she knew.

“What the fuck do you have to say for yourself? Huh?!”

“What do you want me to say, Maggie?”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?! What do I want you to say?! William! You’ve cheated on me!” Maggie pulled at her hair in frustration. “Why? Is it me?! Do you not love me anymore?!”

“Of course I still love you, Maggie. How can you even ask that?”

Maggie looked at him with disbelief, “how can I ask you?! Jesus Christ! I feel like I’m losing my mind here, William! You shared a bed with some whore and now you ask ME how I can ask if YOU still love me?! For fuck sakes, Will...” Maggie was so red hot with anger that she couldn’t even finish her thought. “Start talkin’... now.”

“I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Uh-uh. No sir. We’re gonna have this out right now, whether you lose your job or not.”

“You don’t let me touch you, Maggie. You haven’t for a long time.” William spoke quietly, almost emotionless

Maggie was taken back by William’s blunt answer. “What are you talking about?! We sleep in the same bed!”

“Yes. And that’s all it is. You’re my wife, Maggie and you won’t let me...,” William stopped himself and turned towards the door.

“You... you know why I can’t, William. Not since Will Jr. ...”

“It’s been three years, Maggie. We don’t have to have another child, but we can still make love. You won’t have it. I’m still a man, and I have needs... wants... desires.” William hung his head and continued, “I love you, but I’m not so sure you love me anymore. I feel like every time you look at me you just see Jr. and you... I don’t know, resent me for it You punish me for it.”

“That’s not true in the slightest William LaRue. And what about my needs? Huh?! You have no idea what it’s like to be a mother who’s lost a child!”

“I do, Maggie... because I’m a father who lost one,” he replied sternly. “And as for your needs, I’ve been nothing but accommodating. Jesus, Maggie! Jr.’s death should have forced us together, we should have been stronger for it. We needed each other more than ever, and all we have now are silent stares and painful memories.”

“I understand your pain more than you know. I gave you space... and you just took more. All I get is a toss off in the outhouse in hopes of escaping this living hell for five fucking seconds.”

Maggie began to cry, but held her ground. “Is that what you think this marriage is? Hell?!”

“What else can you call years of wallowing in self pity, Maggie? Yes, I slept with another woman. For that I am truly sorry. Hurting you was never my intent.”

“What did you think was going to happen?!”

“I don’t know. She was just... a service. Bought and paid for. That’s all. When I was with her, I closed my eyes and pretended it was you, Maggie.”

“That’s sick... YOU’RE SICK!”

“I know... and I’m sorry for it. I regretted it the second it was over. Contrary to what your nosey friend claims, I only went once and felt ashamed of myself for doing it. I just... I just wanted to feel loved again, Maggie. That’s all.”

“I love you, William. With all my heart... but I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for this.”

“I understand, Maggie. I don’t know if we can fix this either. But I would like to try. Perhaps...”

Maggie raised her hand, having heard enough. “Will you please go to work now. I... I can’t look at you anymore. I need you to go.”

“I understand,” he said again in the same calm tone. “Can we... can we please talk when I get home? You can scream at me all you want. I’ve earned it... but I would really like to find a way through this, Maggie. Please know that I mean it when I say I still love you.”

Maggie folded her arms and looked away, aggressively wiping the tears from her eyes.

“I’ll see you later, alright?”

Maggie reluctantly nodded without looking at him. William walked out the door, slowly closing the door behind him. Maggie collapsed onto the floor and relaxed her pride, letting her sadness overtake her. She pounded at the floor with her fists, sobbing and wailing, wishing she knew what to do. Minutes felt like hours as she clung to the wooden planks.

Then the earth shook.

Maggie lifted her head as the walls of the cabin seemed to shake the dust from themselves. Paintings fell from their hooks and dishes smashed on the floor. When it suddenly stopped, she stayed still for a moment, until she heard the school bell ring.

Maggie rushed out the door and adjusted her eyes to the bright morning light. She looked both ways, up and down canyon. That’s when she saw the grey cloud erupting from the mine. She took off down the street in a mad dash. A blonde woman lay face down in front of Sandra’s house, having fallen. She quickly realized that it was, in fact Sandra who had fallen down the steps of her porch. Maggie rushed to help her friend.




"Sandra! Sandra, get up!"  A familiar voice beckoned from above Sandra.  

Sandra was still trying to figure out what was happening.  She was disoriented and scared.  She'd hit her head harder than she thought when she fell. A trickle of blood was painting a trail down the side of her face.  She felt someone tugging at her arm and lifting her to her feet.  Once standing, she realized it was Maggie.  

"Sandra... are you alright?!"  Maggie asked as she wrapped Sandra's head in her rolled up apron.

"I... I think so... what.. what is happening... oh god... the mine!"  Sandra was struggling through a mild concussion, still trying to piece things together.

"There was an explosion... we need to get the others!  Start pounding on doors!  We need everyone's help!"  Maggie ordered.

Those who weren't already outside and heading towards the mine entrance, Maggie and Sandra alerted door to door.  Sandra was having trouble staying on her feet, but knew how important it was... she had to push forward. 

Before long, the entire town was gathered around the mine entrance, creating a bucket line of sorts to move the fallen rock.  Maggie was right there at the front, full of strength she never knew she had... fueled by adrenaline and fear.  Ellen, Sandra, Connie, and Greta were right there as well, side by side, moving rock along the line.

While most of the other women were in tears, Maggie somehow kept her head.  She directed the townsfolk, man and woman alike in the desperate attempt to save the miner's lives.  She had to find her husband... she had to find William.  After what had transpired between them that morning, she couldn’t stand the thought of the last words they may ever speak to one another having been in contempt. Her head had never been so clear in purpose.  Her determination never so strong.

The first body was discovered by mid morning.  The man was so mangled under the heavy rock that he was never identified.  Women shrieked and men gasped at the sight.  Not Maggie though.  Even as her heart sank and her stomach knotted, she dug and clawed further.  

By the afternoon, the size of the rock became unmanageable by hand and blasting had to be done.  The previous shift drilled holes by hand in the massive boulders in near record time and set their charges.  The blast was enough to disintegrate the blockage, but only caused another collapse.  The accompanied earthquake shook all those near the mine entrance off their feet.

Hope was dwindling... but not with Maggie.  Even as the rest of the townspeople tried to regather their strength, she continued moving rock.  No one could bring themselves to tell her to stop.  All they could do is watch the lovely brunette's exercise in futility.

It took a week before a survey crew could get to the isolated mining town to asses the damage.  They found that a candle must have sparked a pocket of methane gas, causing the explosion.  The entire length of the mine could be mapped via the ground settlement of the mountain above.  The surveyors judged that the entire workings had collapsed in on itself.  

There could be no survivors, or even any way to get to their bodies. Of the 148 men inside the mine at the time of the blast, only three bodies would be recovered. For the remaining 145, the mine itself would have to serve as their tomb.

This still didn't stop Maggie.  Even as the rest of Heaven sadly gave up, she kept digging.  Was it noble or delusional?  Who can say.  Connie would remain by her side the longest, less out of hope as just wanting to be there for Maggie when the inevitable outcome finally hit her.  But even Connie could only take so much mental self-torture.  It was almost two weeks after the explosion and Maggie found herself digging alone.

And she just kept digging.

Three days later Connie would approach the mine entrance to bring Maggie some cool lemonade, only to find Maggie collapsed in a heap.  Connie dropped the pitcher she was carrying with a crash and rushed to Maggie's side.  Maggie was conscious, but fatigued and sobbing terribly.

"I couldn't do it... Connie... he needed me... and I couldn't save him," Maggie cried out as she squeezed tightly at Connie's waist. “I pushed him away... and now he’s gone...”

Connie teared up and stroked Maggie's hair, "don't you dare think it's your fault, Maggie.  It was hopeless from the start... but you wouldn't believe it.  If you couldn't get to our men, no one could.” Connie kissed the top of Maggie’s head and squeezed her tightly.  “I'm sorry I gave up, Maggie.  I should have been here with you."

Maggie looked up into Connie's eyes, her own so filled with pain that Connie lost control herself.  It was like Maggie was wordlessly begging Connie to offer some kind of answer to why... and pleading for release from her guilt... something no one but god himself could offer.

"He needed me... he needed me..."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The giant wagon wheel, like a moving carnival attraction, finally rolled to a stop.  Maggie swam through the boot print she had landed in and rushed to the spot where Connie had been just seconds before.  There was no trace of her.  Only a long rut carved into the mud by the wagon wheel that was quickly filling up with sludge.  She began to pull mud away with both arms, screaming Connie's name and weeping as she did so.  It would be no use.  The water rushed in faster than she could bail it out to move what little earth she could.

Maggie, after nearly an hour that felt like minutes, reluctantly gave up.  She cried... possibly harder than she had in her life... possibly harder than when William died.  She remained on her knees and bent over, trying to vomit from an empty stomach.  Save for the layer of filth coating her body, she was naked... and cold... and alone. 

She looked up through the spokes of the wagon wheel towards the Doctor's office.  There was a sign on the front door she hadn't noticed before.  Unable to believe what she was reading, Maggie stood up.  Her knees quivered, her insides gutted.  

"No... no no no no... it can't be...," Maggie muttered to herself as she walked out from under the coach and around the wheel.  "No... it's... it's not fair... it can't be..."

Nailed to the door was a hand written sign on piece of scrap wood that read:

Closed for Business

Maggie's heart pumped hard, her breathing intensified... she was hyperventilating.  She dropped to her knees once again.  The faces of her friends, of her husband, of her child... all flashed in front of her eyes.  What little sanity she was clinging to dissipated like the clouds being burned away above her.  Her mind broke, unsure whether to laugh or cry or scream.  Connie... Sandra... Ellen... Greta... William... Jr.... in her mind, she'd failed them all.  

Maggie toppled over onto her stomach, face down in the sickening mire.  She squeezed mud into her fists, feeling it slide between her fingers... wishing it was something more substantial to hold onto.  That was it though... there WAS nothing left to hold on to.  She was the smallest person on earth and the giants above her had no idea she was even there.  Her insignificance weighed on her, along with her guilt and the haunting silence in her head.

With her face buried in the mud, Maggie didn't notice the giant fingers, each nearly twice as long as she was, forcing themselves into the mud around her.  She felt a change in the ground beneath her and lifted her head, only to find she was surrounded by a cage of fleshy pillars.  The very ground she was laying on lifted beneath her into the sky.  Maggie clutched to one of the digits as she was lifted, moving faster than she'd ever experienced before.  The mud fell away beneath the tiny woman as the giant's hand rotated her onto his palm.  Maggie found herself staring into the largest eyes she'd ever seen, widened by the confusion of what they were seeing.

"Well, I'll be damned...," Maggie saw the giant's lips utter.  

The hot wind from his mouth blew her mud-caked hair back.  She didn't know what to do.  She was losing her mind already and this was far too much for her fragile brain to take.  As the titan lowered the index finger from his other hand towards her, Maggie lost it altogether and screamed out in a state of complete and utter terror.


End Part 26
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Mon Mar 22, 2021 9:42 pm

Part 27-"Ripples" 

Little was known concerning the disappearance of the five women affectionately known as the Fallen Angels.  Those who were present the night of the fire kept the events to themselves in fear of prosecution, which in the old west meant a necktie made of rope.  It took a few days before word spread from other patrons that found the hotel a blackened ruin.  Only the charred remains of three men were ever found, and even then, much of their remains were washed down canyon during the heavy rainfall.  There was no sign of the hotel's proprietors and no trace would ever be found.  Most speculated that the five women simply left Heaven, moving on to better things.

The good doctor of Kern's Junction, Henry Johnson, packed up his things and left Kern's Junction less than two weeks after learning about the women's disappearance.  His practice was already struggling amongst the poor miners and railmen, but that wasn't the real reason.  The man would later write in his journals that he left the desert because there was nothing left for him there, his heart weighing heavy with sadness.  It seems the man others would describe as shy and reclusive was more than just an enthusiastic foot fetishist, but was actually deeply, madly... and sadly in love with Sandra.  It was something he never felt he could tell her because of their positions, social and otherwise... something he would regret for the rest of his life.  Her disappearance was too much for the man to take and he simply packed up his instruments and moved back east to Ohio, saying nothing to anyone in town before he took his exit.  All he left behind was a vacant false front and a sign on its door notifying his departure.  He would never marry and speak longingly of Sandra well into old age.

Maggie missed him by a single day.  How's that for fate's sick sense of humor?


In my research, I'd hoped to find more information on the girls' families.  Records for that era, and that particular region are mostly lost.  Other than Sandra, whose family's affluence meant that there was plenty of information to pull from, very little is known of the the others.  Connie in particular, she may as well have been a ghost as far as history is concerned... I don't even know her husband's name.  The families of Maggie, Ellen, Greta, and Connie would go to their graves having never known why their daughters and siblings simply ended all correspondence.  Their own letters likely found a waste bin in the Kern's Junction post office, given the entire town of Heaven was a burned-out cinder.  News didn't travel as fast in those days and neither the disappearance of a group of prostitutes or even the burning of an isolated desert ghost town were considered particularly newsworthy in the major cities.

The Pepper Gang would be caught the following year trying to rob a bank in Pioche.  One of the members of the gang felt shorted on his cut of their previous heist and in turn, tipped off the local law enforcement of the gang's plans in exchange for immunity.  He would feel his neck stretch alongside those he had betrayed.

Sanford Forsyth, Sandra's father, knew little of what Sandra had been engaged in the years leading up to her disappearance.  He was aware that her husband was deceased, which pleased him greatly, but could not convince his rebellious daughter to return to New York.  He would write to her, ordering her return, but she would never respond.  It would take months before he received any news of her disappearance, using his own mine superintendents as spies to try to locate her.  The man would travel to Nevada with members of the Pinkertons to track Sandra down, obviously to no avail.  

Forsyth would spend the next year's of his life paying investigators to locate his beloved daughter.  He spent a small fortune trying to find her.  Even the hardest of hearts can break, and when Forsyth's did, he sought comfort in the bottle.  The man would live out the rest of his days in guilt and embracing his alcoholism until it ultimately took his life.  

But things would get a little more interesting, and frankly disturbing before that...

Forsyth made the rounds in various social circles and events throughout the last years of his life.  Nothing particularly scandalous about that.  But it was the rumors that began circulating about things he had confessed to people in his public drunkenness that began to raise a few eyebrows.  The man allegedly took credit for the explosion inside the Cornish mine!  

In whispered hushes, several accounts arose of him explaining that he was good friends with several members from the London group that had controlling interests in the Cornish Mine.  The ore vein inside the mine was supposedly beginning to play out, contrary to what the company had told their investors, they were looking to get out from under it.  He would go on to claim that it was his idea to blow up the mine so they could collect insurance on the whole ordeal.  There would be payouts sure, but they could come out on top, or at least break even.

But this wasn't all.  Forsyth would also gloat about how he got rid of that 'good-for-nothing' that stole his daughter away in the process.  The thought that this man could be responsible for the deaths of 148 men, just to get to one, is absolutely horrifying.  

All this remained whispers and rumors for years... until the same thing happened in one of his own mines.  People began to step forward to the authorities with the information that Forsyth had drunkenly disclosed.  An investigation into the man's dealings commenced, but went nowhere.  The United States government at the time made a habit of siding with those with great wealth, just look to the atrocities committed during the later union wars.

I suppose things haven't changed all that much in that respect.

To think... Sanford Forsyth essentially set the events in motion that would lead to the vanishing of she whom he claimed to love so dearly, his daughter Sandra.  It's hard to think of a more despicable action by a despicable man... and he never had to answer for it.  May he burn in whatever hell he built for himself.

And finally, as for Maggie's fate?  I suppose this is where I must inject myself into this tale.  I do so reluctantly as this is not my story and I make no claim to be apart of it... but I feel the events that lead to my interest warrant elaboration.

You may be asking yourself who I am in all of this.  How I could possibly know what happened to these women over a century ago when history says they simply disappeared?  Why I've related such an incredible story with no real evidence?  I choose to remain anonymous for the sake of my family, Christ knows they don't need the scrutiny.

My obsession with this extraordinary event began about a year and a half ago...


End Part 27
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Mon Mar 22, 2021 10:06 pm

Part 28-"The Journals" 


The death of my mother came as a surprise to everyone.  She'd always been in good health, even in her old age.  My father, on the other hand, could barely look after himself.  His dementia had gotten so bad that we ended up having to take his car keys away, like we were punishing a child.  It felt awful.  That's when I decided to have dad move in with my family so I could take care of him.  He'd had mom to look after him for so long that I had no idea just how badly his mind had deteriorated.  Some mornings he couldn't remember who I was and would work himself into a panic, calling out for mom.  It broke my heart to see him this way.

The wife and I were clearing out the attic of the old house, prepping things to sell, when I came across a pair of books.  They appeared to be journals of some kind, one full of maps and numbers, the other simple daily entries.  I asked my father what they were and, as is often the case with a failing mind, began regaling me with stories from his youth like they just happened yesterday. Keep in mind he couldn't remember how to turn on the tv that morning.

He spoke of how my I-couldn't-even-tell-you-how-many-greats uncle had spent about a decade in the Nevada desert, not far from Kern's Junction.  As a young man, he had hopped a train west in hopes of finding his fortune in the mountains.  John Carlson, that was his name, had settled in the same valley as the events of this story in hopes that its remoteness would yield plenty of wealth.  Not picked over like so many other districts across the country.

My father told me that John's journals had passed down from father to son for generations now.  He'd spent his youth scouring the desert hills investigating our relative's prospects, yielding little results.  He didn't see it as a bust though.  Dad loved being in the vast desert with his father, as I assume his father did before him.  To be honest, I felt a little jealous.  My father and I had never really bonded over anything like that.  We got along fine, but we never really had a 'thing,' something we both loved to do together.  

Dad seemed mostly preoccupied with Great Uncle John's journal filled with locations and maps.  When I asked about the other, his brow crinkled his forehead a little and he gave me a strange look.

"Well, son... that's a whole other bag of marbles," he said, cryptically.  He tapped the fragile, dusty book on my chest.  "I think it's best you read it for yourself and come to your own conclusions.  I will tell you this, though... you won't be the same man afterwards."

My father seemed to instantly forget his own ominous proclamation, his tone shifting back to that of a pleased old man reveling in his past.  Needless to say, my curiosity had been sparked.

It took a couple of weeks before we were able to finish moving my father out of the old house and begin the process of selling.  In that time I'd begun to read through the old journal, finding time at night before bed to peruse the text.  My great uncle wasn't much of a writer and his spelling was lackluster to say the least.  It took some serious concentration to hold my attention and power through.

The man didn't write much about his youth.  The journal seems to pick up right when he arrives in Nevada.  I imagined that the book may have been a parting gift from someone.  Anyways, the early portions of his writings are filled with fairly simple, everyday events one might face roughing it in the desert.  Building shelter, finding a water supply, stocking up on food.  He didn't seem to have interest in living in any town proper, but alone in the mountains where he wouldn't need to worry about someone stealing from him.  From what I gathered in his ramblings, he didn't seem to think much of people in general anyway.

It wasn't until I reached about a quarter of the way into the text that things took a sharp turn into X-Files territory.

Great Uncle John had gone into Kern's Junction for supplies one day.  It had rained harder than anyone in the area had ever seen and Main Street had flooded, leaving the town a mess.  The smell of feces filled the air from overflown outhouses. John did his neighborly duty and helped an old woman bucket water out of her cellar for a spell and then made his way towards the general store.  

He wrote about his lingering worries, that his dwindling money supply wouldn't last much longer if he didn't make some kind of strike.  He was staring at the ground, trying to avoid stepping in anything particularly unpleasant... when he saw her.  She was laying on the ground, doubled over and covered in mud.  He'd almost mistaken the tiny woman for a rock, but then she moved.  He stopped dead in his tracks, uncertain of what he was looking at.  He reached down to pick up the tiny creature to find that it was, in fact, an impossibly small woman.  Great Uncle John reached out to touch her with his free hand and the frightened little thing let out a terrified squeak.  He nearly dropped her, seemingly as shocked by what he was looking at as she was.

Miners and prospectors are known to be a superstitious lot.  It didn't register to Uncle John that this was a regular woman, miniaturized to a great degree.  Rather, he had thought he'd found a pixie, or leprechaun, or some other creature of myth.  Whatever she was, finding her had to be good luck.  He cupped his other hand over the top of the little female and bolted back to his cabin, completely abandoning his supply run.

The cabin was of simple construction.  It was just a single room, made of rock and sealed with mud.  It was partially dug into the hillside which helped keep it cooler in the summertime.  He burst through its door and set down at his small, makeshift table made from discarded dynamite boxes.  He set his cupped hands down on the tabletop and slowly opened them, worried that his prize may have vanished in some mystic way... or that he was losing his mind. The tiny, filth-caked woman slid down his palm and landed with a little thud on her rump.  She screamed again and looked for somewhere to hide, but she was the only thing on the surface except for a wooden spoon and a well used plate.

"It's ok, little sprite, I won't hurt you," my uncle whispered to her.  

She turned her back on him and wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth.

"Do you... would you like something to eat?" He asked to no response.  

At that point he wondered if whatever tiny race of people she came from had their own language and she couldn't understand him.  He slowly reached out to touch her back, still unsure if she was real, only to be met with another tiny scream.  A wave of guilt suddenly overtook him.  Had he abducted her, taken her away from her home... her family?  

John sat quietly and stared at the frightened, miniature woman for hours.  The only movement she made, other than her constant rocking motion, was to lay over on her side and curl up into the fetal position.  Eventually, he too retired to the blankets that were spread out on the dirt floor, the closest approximation to a bed he had at the time.

I couldn't believe what I was reading.  Was he some kind of aspiring fantasy writer?  His lack of even rudimentary writing skills would lead me to say no, yet he was incredibly descriptive.  Was he going mad in his isolation?  Maybe it was all a put-on to pass the time, stories to tell folks down at the local watering hole.  I couldn't believe that this man had found a tiny human... in the muddy street... in the Nevada desert.  It was all just too... absurd.  What did my father see that was so earth-shattering in this?

That's not to say that I wasn't hooked.


End Part 28
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Tue Mar 23, 2021 9:09 pm

Part 29-"Melancholia in Miniature" 


Each night I continued to pour over the journal.  I began cross referencing places John named with the other journal and Google Earth to build a picture the surroundings in my mind.  The book read like the poorest fan fiction you could find on the internet... but I couldn't stop thinking about it.

John had spent weeks trying to get through to the little woman.  No matter what he did, she would not respond to him.  The tiny thing would just lie on the table and sob to herself.  She was still a filthy mess and stunk to high heaven, but anytime he would try to clean her off she would begin to scream again.  The man didn't know what to do.  Is she going to die?  Should he let her go?  All he could do is sit and watch her at night, hoping she would come around.

Eventually, supplies became sparse and he had to go into town to get food... the last he would be able to buy with the money he brought with him to Nevada.  He had to resume his prospecting if there was any hope of making it out there.  During the day John would leave her alone, worried that she'd be gone when he returned.  She was always in the same spot when he came home.

It didn't take him long to realize that she might be deaf.  She would always look surprised when he suddenly appeared with a bean or piece of salted beef for her.  One day he snapped his fingers behind her to see how she'd react.  She didn't flinch, but she did seem to feel air being forced behind her.  At her size, the sound would have been incredible, like a bomb going off.  She only seemed slightly annoyed by the disturbance.  

As I stated before, he would leave food for her as well as a tin coffee cup filled with water.  He'd never see her eat, but the food would usually be gone by the following morning.  It pleased him that she wasn't starving herself in her sadness.  He had also folded up an old rag and placed it next to her for a bed and was glad to see that she had crawled onto it during the night.  He also left her an open snuff tin to use as a latrine.

Days turned to weeks, entry after entry of John returning home from prospecting in the hills, usually empty handed.  The tiny woman would either be curled up in a ball on the rag or rocking back and forth with her legs pulled against her chest.  Always facing away from him, always silent.  

So you can imagine his surprise when he came home one day to find her standing near the edge of the table... looking up at him... seemingly ready to finally great him.  John had a bag of various rock samples in his hand that he had intended to take into Kern's Junction to have assayed.  He dropped it right there in the doorway.

Her hands were clasped together near her waist, trying to casually cover her private areas.  He could tell she was frightened, but she was making a genuine effort to try to finally accept his presence.  John dropped to his knees and shifted from one to the next slowly, raising both his hands in a submissive gesture.

"Hey... it's ok... I won't hurt you... just take it easy, alright," he assured her.  She made a tiny squeak, but he couldn't make out what she said.  

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you very well... is it alright if I get close to you?"  She paused for a moment and then nodded her head.  John approached the table even slower and then lowered his head so his chin nearly touched the tabletop.  "So... you can understand me then?"

The tiny woman was once again slow to respond.  She was clearly overwhelmed by the size of the face in front of her.  But then motioned her hands to cover her ears, "I... I can't hear... but if you speak slowly, I can try to watch your lips, she said.  "I can't read lips very well, but I can pick up things here and there."

John was struck with even more of a shock, nearly falling backwards.  He had to pay close attention to her tiny voice, but she most certainly spoke English.

"I thought that might be the case...," he began, not knowing what else to say.  "At least we won't need to worry about me speaking too loudly," John instantly regretted saying the words after he saw the puzzled look on her face.  "I'm sorry, that... that was a really stupid thing to say," he said, hitting himself in the side of the head.  "I have to admit... I'm a little at loss for words right now."

"It's... it's fine.  I lost my hearing not long before you found me.  I don't know if I'll ever get used to it," she said.

There was an awkward pause... neither of them really knowing what to say next.  I can only imagine the atmosphere feeling like trying to break the ice on a first date.  John just decided to be blunt.

"So... are you some kind of pixie or something?"

She watched his lips and then a confused, but slightly amused look spread across her little face, "what?"

"A pixie... a fairy... a sprite?  I don't know what your lot like to call yourselves."

The little woman paused again to process the shapes his lips were making.  "No... no I'm not a fairy... I'm a person just like you... I guess, at least I used to be."

John furrowed his brow and slightly cocked his head in confusion.

"Something happened to me... a man... he found something in the desert.  I don’t understand it all myself.  Whatever it was, it did this to me."  

Even though her face was so small, John could tell that tears were beginning to stream down her face.

"I wasn't the only one, three men were shrunk much smaller than me... and four other women... the best friends I've ever had," she said through her tears.  "I'm the only one who survived."  And with that, the little woman dropped to her knees and crouched over sobbing once again.

John was speechless.  He had no scope for what he'd just heard.  'What sort of witchcraft could have caused this?'  He wrote.  Somehow, her being some kind of mythical creature made more sense in his mind than what she had just told him.   His heart ached for her, and cautiously, he extended a finger and ran it down her bare back.  She looked up in surprise... tears pouring out of her anguished face.  There was yet another pause and then... she grabbed a hold of his finger and pressed herself against it.  Wrapping her arms around a digit that was wider than her entire body.  He could feel her tiny head rubbing back and forth against his skin, a slight hint of wetness from her eyes could just be felt.  She looked up at him again, her face full of intense emotion.

"So you... so I...," John stumbled over what he wanted to say.  "I didn't steal you away there in the street?"

"NO.... THANK YOU!  THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SAVING ME," she called out, looking up past his knuckle and into his eyes.  She buried her face back into his finger and continued to cry.

John was not one who was quick to cry, but he was suddenly overcome with emotion.  He clasped his free hand over his mouth and let his own tears free.  It was clear that, despite her best efforts, she was far from over her trauma.  Even trying to explain it to him just sent her back into her miserable state.  He would end up sitting there with her for what must have been hours, gently stroking her hair and back, trying to offer what little comfort he could as she continued to weep.  She would eventually fall asleep, too exhausted to cry any more.  John gently lifted her up and placed her on the folded up rag.  And then tried to sleep himself.  It came hard as her words continued to haunt him throughout the night.

They haunted me as well.


End Part 29
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Tue Mar 23, 2021 9:38 pm

Part 30-"John and Maggie"   


My Great Uncle's next entry found him rising early to go into town with his samples.  He was interrupted by a faint voice coming from the table top.  The tiny woman was sitting up and staring at him.  He crept up to the table and sat down close to her.

"I'm sorry again, it's hard to hear your voice, miss.  What did you say?"  He asked.

"Please... mister... don't...," John could tell something was worrying her.  "Please don't leave... don't leave me alone today," she pleaded.  Her eyes begged him as much as her voice.

"Uh... yes... yes of course.  This can wait till tomorrow.  We've still got a little food left."  He began rummaging through what were mostly empty cans on the floor.  "Are you hungry at all?"

She sheepishly nodded.

"Alright... all I seem to have left is some salted beef."

"That'd be wonderful," she assured him.

John reached into a pouch and pulled out a slab of jerky.  He pinched off a tiny piece and lowered it into her impossibly small awaiting hands.

"Thank you, mister," she said.

John crossed his legs and cozied up to the table.  "Now... I think if we're gonna be sharing this space for a while, we should properly introduce ourselves," he said before taking a bite from the tough meat.  He could tell from the puzzled look on her face that she didn't quite catch everything he said.  He patted his chest and pushed his mouthful of meat to one cheek, "my name is John... John Carlson.  What's yours?"

The little woman still didn't quite catch it, so John took out his notebook and wrote it down.  He held the book up so she could read it.  She held her head and shook it, feeling frustrated for not getting it in the first place.

"Pleasure to meet you, John Carlson.  My name's Maggie LaRue.... but my friends used to call me Ma."

The color seemed to leave her face and she let her little nugget of meat drop to her feet.  John could tell that even that simple memory was about to trigger another episode.  He quickly picked up her piece of meat and held it directly in front of her face.  She nervously took it and looked back up into his eyes.

"Hey, now... no need to get worked up again.  What do you prefer I call you?" He asked while pointing at her.

It took her a moment, but she actually seemed to come back into the present.  "Maggie... Maggie is fine."

"Alright then, Maggie... is there something in particular you'd like to do today?"  He asked, hoping to distract her from her troubles.

"Can... will you just stay here with me?  I don't know why... but having you here... it-it helps.” Maggie rolled the large chunk of meat around in her hands for a moment, then continued, “I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before... I just... I couldn't.  But it was so much worse when you weren't here."  She continued, "I lost my friends and... and I didn't know who you were or what you might try."  Maggie stopped herself at risk of insulting the giant who'd been so kind to her.  "All of it was just too much."

John had to fight to keep from getting emotional again.  He honestly couldn't remember another person having this kind of effect on him.

"Do you want... I mean... would it help to tell me about it?" He asked.

Maggie hung her head again and then returned her gaze to his, "no... no I don't think I'm quite ready to do that yet.  It hurts so much when I even think about it." 

She seemed to become aware of her nakedness just then and wrapped both her arms around her breasts.  John had been a gentleman about her state of undress, but he was still a man and most certainly took notice of her shapely figure.

"John?" Maggie asked, "I can think of something you can help me with though... do you think you could find me something to wear?"

"Oh... uh... yes... yes of course.  I'm sorry, I should have...," John stammered to himself.  He felt like an idiot, but his sudden awkwardness seemed to bring the faintest of smiles to Maggie's face.  He searched around the tiny cabin for something he could use.  He pulled a mountain of filthy clothes from a bag in the corner until he found a single silk handkerchief.  It was his father's, and the only extravagant thing he'd brought with him out west.  He took out a knife and began to carve up the scarf on the table.

"No John!"  Maggie called out, "that looks expensive!  Don't ruin it for me!"

John ignored Maggie's squeaks and finished cutting a tiny rectangle from the scarf.  He plunged the point of the knife into the center of it and twisted the tip until a small hole appeared.  He inspected his work, his eyes darting from the tiny frock to Maggie and back again.

"I hope this will work... I won't claim to be much seamstress," he chuckled to himself.  He lowered the scrap of cloth down to Maggie who eagerly awaited.  She rubbed the smooth surface with her fingers, feeling the tiny threads that made up the fabric like she’d never felt silk before... I guess technically, she'd never felt it like this before.  She ran her fingers down the frayed edges where the knife had roughly released it from the larger piece.  Her eyes began to well up again.

John was trying to pull another strand off the handkerchief when he noticed Maggie had kneeled down, staring at the frock.  "Here, you can tie it at the waist with this... hey... hey, what's wrong?  Do you not like it?"

Maggie looked back up at him with tears streaming down her cheeks... but smiling.  She hadn't heard him, but could see by the look on his face that he was worried.  "It's... it's beautiful, John... thank you so much."  

He didn't understand why she was so emotional about a scrap of cloth, but mulling it over later that night, he realized that any sort of kindness or luxury probably meant more to her than he would ever fully understand... she had truly been through a living hell.  He reached down slowly and wiped the tears away from her eyes as gently as he could.  His heart ached for her as she looked up at him, her face leaning into his finger as he touched it.  John could feel how special the moment was in his very soul, and felt like she did as well.

"John?  Can I ask another favor of you?"

"Anything, Maggie...you just name it," he replied.

Maggie looked down at the simple bit of fabric again, wringing it in her hands, reveling in its smooth texture.  "It's so wonderful, John... and I'm a mess... I'd hate to put it on and soil it."

John gave her a simple smile and said, "say no more, little lady."  He picked up the tin coffee cup and filled it up with water.  Then he held its bottom over the lone candle providing the cabin with light.  He tested the water with his fingers until it felt comfortably warm.  He set the cup back down on the table.  "Your bath awaits, madame."

Maggie was taken aback for a moment, "how did you know...," she paused, realizing that he was just being polite and didn't actually know she was a madame.  She smiled back at him and then stood up, being careful to cover herself as she walked towards the cup.  It was a small tin cup, but as she approached it, John noticed that the top of her head didn't even meet the rim.  A feeling of guilt hit him.

Maggie could tell something was wrong and inquired, "John?  What is it?"

"Oh, uh... I'm just now seeing how tall the cup is for you... I'm sorry, I didn't realize...," he trailed off, then suddenly switched gears, "how were you even drinking from it?"

"Oh, the handle... I just used it as a step, see..., " she said as she began to climb up the handle.  Sure enough, it allowed her to get high enough to reach into the cup.  She continued trying to pull herself over the edge, but was clearly having trouble.

"Would you like... do you need a hand, Maggie?" John asked.

"No, no... I think I've got it," as soon as she said the words, she lost her balance trying to get a leg over the edge and splashed head first into the water.  She flipped herself around underwater and floated back to the surface, only to be met by John's chuckling face high above her.  His laughter proved contagious.

"How about a little privacy, big fella," she teased, turning her back slightly, but still allowing herself to look over her shoulder towards him.

"Oh... yes... of course, miss... er... Maggie."

Her smile showed once again that she was enjoying making him flustered.  She'd done it countless men before she found herself in her current state.  John turned his back to her and picked up his sack and pretended to be analyzing some specimens, none as precious as the tiny woman bathing in his tin cup.

"So are you a miner, John?"  She asked.

John turned back just enough for her to see his face, "just an amateur prospector... I don't think I'm proving to be very good at it, honestly," he replied.  "I think I may be on to something here, though.  Some of these seem at least a little promising."  

"I was married to a miner once," she informed him, her tone changing slightly.

"Oh? Uh... was?" 

"He... he died... there was an explosion...," she paused again, "I think I've lost everyone I've ever cared about."

John turned back to face her.  She was staring into the water, visibly upset again.  "Oh... I'm sorry, Maggie."

She didn't catch his response, but when she looked up she could see empathy in his eyes.  "It was years ago, but... it still stings like it was yesterday.  Does that make sense, John?"

"Of course it does.  I don't think you ever really stopping loving someone, even after they're gone.  I suppose we just find ways to live with it as best we can."

She sort of half grinned back at him, trying to suppress her wildly swinging and overwhelming emotions.  "How does a kind, sensitive man such as yourself end up in Nevada, John Carlson?"

This is when I realized I really knew nothing about this man.  Like I said before, there were no entries about his past, only what he'd written since he moved to Nevada.  I feel like I know more about Maggie than my own blood.

He only answered her with, "I needed a change."

Again, the two of them found themselves staring at each other in silence... both clearly in awe of one another.  Maggie would be the first to break the quiet.

"I think... I think I'd like to get out now... I'm starting to prune up."

"Do you want try it yourself?" He asked.

Maggie looked over the rim and then back to John, "I think I'm gonna need your help this time."

"Of course," he replied.  He lowered his pinky over her head, thinking that the finger might be small enough for her to grab onto.  "Hold on tight."

Maggie nodded and then wrapped her arms around the digit, clasping her fingers together.  John cautiously lifted her out of the cup and lowered her back onto the table, watching as her toes stretched to find solid ground.  She released and landed safely on the tabletop.  The water on her tiny, nude body began to bead up and all she had to do is flick the drops off herself with her hands.

John didn't realize how long he'd been staring with his jaw agape.  He knew she was beautiful, but with the layers of filth removed he could finally see what a vision she was.  Even with the many scars that scattered her body, each a reminder of the nightmares she'd experienced.

Maggie squeezed a few more drops from her hair and then pulled the silken frock over her head.  She picked up the small strip and tied it around her waist.  She looked down at herself, adjusting the smooth tunic.  Her cleavage just barely peaked through the neck and the sides of the garment, her sides and legs still exposed.  The bottom came to just above her knees.  I'm sure it seemed quite a bit more revealing than the rigid Victorian standards she was used to, but when you've spent what was, at that point, a couple of months mostly nude, it didn't seem to bother her.

John lifted the tin cup and tossed its contents out the front door.  "Judging by what I found you in, Maggie, I don't know if I can use this cup again," he joked.

"Har, har mister," she replied.  

As John set back down at the table, he seemed to freeze at the sight of the tiny brunette.

"Well, big fella... how do I look?"  She asked, spinning around to show all of herself to him.  John didn't say anything... he seemed to be in a trance.  "Hey!"  She yelled, "are you awake!"

"You look beautiful, Maggie... truthfully... I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Maggie's teasing demeanor shifted.  She seemed to blush with her entire body.  She clasped her hands together at her waist and crossed her legs at the ankles, gazing down at the tabletop, "Thank you, John."

"Maggie?"

"Yes, John?"

"Would I be out of line to ask if I can hold you?"

"I... I think I'd like that, John."

John set his hand down, palm up on the table, and watched as tiny brunette climbed onto his trembling fingertips.  Her little bare feet tickled his skin as she walked down the outstretched digits and sat down in the center of his palm.  She seemed almost weightless in his hand and the sensation gave him goose flesh.  John carefully lifted her to his face and the pair stared into each other's eyes.

"Well, John Carlson... what now?"


End Part 30
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Wed Mar 24, 2021 10:39 pm

Part 31-"One Small Step..." 


All of this seemed too incredible.  Even though I was glued to the story at that point, my rational mind couldn't bring myself to believe that this long past ancestor of mine had fallen in love with a woman smaller than his pinky.  It was all just to absurd.  His solitary lifestyle must have lead to extreme loneliness, and in turn, he cooked up this crazy story.  That must have been it...

The next few entries mostly involved day to day activities.  His samples did yield promising results and he would make a small amount of livable income selling off a couple of prospects.  Enough for him to get by, but not the strikes he was hoping for.  Prospectors by nature aren't interested in actual mining.  They generally didn't have the capital to engage in it anyway.  Rather, these hearty men were more interested in exploration, making money when they could and hoping to hit that one rich strike that they could retire on.  From what I could gather about John, this fit him to a tee.

John would come home to an often anxious Maggie, who was exited to see him every time he walked through the door.  I'm sure life on a tabletop wasn't terribly exiting.  John did try to coax her into leaving the cabin multiple times, but she was too terrified to do so, her previous experiences in the desert having developed into full blown phobias.  Even the thought of seeing the desert again caused her to relive the deaths of her friends.  She knew she couldn't stay inside on that table forever... but she just wasn't ready.  

John would often find her awake at night, pacing around the table top.  He pretended not to see her just to find out what she was doing exactly.  Nearly every night she'd wake up screaming from night terrors, walk around the table for a while and then lay back down to sleep until the next nightmare rocked her out of bed.  He didn't dare say anything to her about it because, in all honesty, he didn't know what to do for her.

Maggie gradually got much better at reading John's lips. Not so much that it was easy, but because she simply had to.  I'm sure the fact that his mouth was the size of a cave from her perspective helped to catch the subtle changes in shape.

Breaking up rocks outside the cabin with a sledgehammer, John would bring the pieces inside with a gold pan.  He'd spend the evenings picking through the crushed rock for signs of precious metals.  Maggie was only happy help him, her tiny hands being able to pick out even the smallest of yellow flakes from the pile, especially if they had to be panned out. She was probably happy to feel useful as well, even just to have something to do.  Her incredibly small size limited her from performing even the most basic of tasks.

"Are you sure you ain't a pixie, Maggie?"  He would ask her.

"Why do you ask that, John Carlson?"  She'd reply, coyly.

"Because I've had nothing but good luck since I found you," he'd answer.  It was one of their many flirty exchanges that almost always resulted in Maggie blushing with her entire body.

John spent a day or so putting in a wood porch at the front of the cabin.  He had to drag the lumber all the way from Kern's in three separate tips.  Maggie simply watched from her bed on top of the table, her old rag having been replaced by the silk scarf at some point.  Less than a week later, John would come back from a supply run to Kern's Junction with a beautiful, ornate hand carved rocking chair.

"What'd ya think, Maggie?  Nice isn't it?!"

"It's lovely, John... but you don't have the room in here for it," she replied.

"Oh, well that's because I bought it for the front porch.  I'd hoped we could sit outside together and watch the sun set."

Maggie's entire mood changed.  She dropped her head and started to visibly shake.  "I... I can't, John."

John set the chair down outside the door and knelt down near the edge of the table.  He gently lifted her chin up with his finger so she could see what he had to say.

"Do you trust me, Maggie?"

Her eyes darted back and forth as she watched his lips, and then silently nodded.

"Do you think I'd ever let anything happen to you?" 

She shook her head.

"There's a big ol' world out there, Maggie.  I know you've been through a hell I can't even imagine, and I hope someday you'll be in a place where you can talk to me about it.  Until then... don't let your past dictate your present... or even your future."  He removed his finger from Maggie's chin and gave her a calming grin.  "Like I said, there's a big world out there... and you're small enough to appreciate every detail.  So what do you say, little lady?  Let's take it one step at a time... just to the porch.  We're not crossing the Atlantic, just the threshold."

Maggie stared up at John with love in her eyes as tears began to fall down her cheeks.  He set his hand down in front of her, waiting for her decision.  

"I still don't get it, John Carlson," she started.

"What's that, Maggie LaRue?"

"How a man such as you ended up in this wasteland."

"Like I've told you before, Maggie... I needed a change.  You're not the only one with ghosts... perhaps I'm not ready to share mine either."  He scratched at his stubble for a moment and then asked her calmly, "are you ready?"

Maggie slowly stood up.  John could tell her legs were shaking beneath her frame.  She climbed onto his fingertips and then crawled toward his palm.  John could feel her shaking in his hand.

"If it helps, close your eyes, Maggie.  I'll let you know when it's safe to open them."

She nodded, and then covered her face with both hands.  John slowly climbed to his feet, trying to hold his hand as still as possible so as not to frighten Maggie any more than she already was.  Maggie crouched forward in his palm with her face meeting her knees, still covering her eyes as they left the cabin.

John wrapped his fingers around her for protection, being careful not to apply any pressure.  He walked out the door and sat down carefully into the rocking chair.  He let his muscles release their tension.  He opened his hand to reveal the cowering Maggie in the center of his palm, still covering her face.

"It's ok, now Maggie... you can open your eyes," he said, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't hear him.  He then gently rubbed his finger down her back.

Maggie reluctantly lowered her arms to find that she was facing John from about mid chest.  His face was smiling down at her from above with the outer walls of he cabin spread out around him.  She continued staring up at him, trembling uncontrollably.

"Go on... take a look for yourself," he instructed, sounding pleased with himself.

Maggie turned on her knees and then sat back into John's palm.  The sun was just beginning to drop behind the mountains on the other side of the valley.  The entire area was basked in a red glow, long shadows stretched out from anything protruding above the ground.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky.  John suddenly felt the trembling in his hand stop.  Maggie seemed to be breathing normally again.  He ran his finger down her back again to get her attention.

"You doin' alright down there?"

"Yes... it's... it's so beautiful, John.  I'd forgotten just how... how beautiful the desert could be at sunset."

"I know," he said peacefully.

"Thank you, John.  Thank you for being here for me."

"I will for as long as you want me to be."

Maggie smiled up at him and then laid down on her side, spreading herself out across the middle of his palm... watching the sun begin to disappear behind the rocky peaks.  The two of them sat there quietly until well after dusk and into the dark so they could stare at the stars together.  Maggie fell asleep in his hand so John carefully took her inside to her bed.

Maggie slept peacefully through the entire night for the first time.


End Part 31
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Wed Mar 24, 2021 11:10 pm

Part 32-"Losing Your Place" 


Over the course of the next few weeks, Maggie would come more and more out of her shell.  When John would return home from his journeys, the strange pair would sit out on the porch and watch the sunset together, almost every night.  Eventually this progressed towards nightly strolls and eventually she’d even accompany him into town.  John would drop her safely into his shirt pocket and take extra care to protect her as he walked.  Maggie got nervous about being around other people, naturally.  Seeing more than one of the giants she shared this world with had to be quite overwhelming for her.  She was perfectly content to hide inside John's pocket in comfort... in secret.  She loved the feel of his enormous heart vibrating through his chest, often lulling her to sleep.

More time would pass, the journal entries became less frequent and spread out over the rest of the year.  I got the impression that some things were too private for him to write down.  I found myself filling in the blanks with my imagination, constantly wondering about the details of their relationship.  I knew they loved each other, John said as much... and I guess that's all that really matters in the end.

John repeatedly asked Maggie if there was anyone she'd like to see.  Family?  Friends?  Every time she'd simply shake her head and change the subject.  Even though she was doing much better, her past still scratched at the back of her brain.  They were fewer, but the nightmares still kept her awake at night.

At Christmas time that year, John presented Maggie with a new dress.  This one was tailored to fit her.  He'd taken her measurements when sleeping and practiced stitching until he got it right.  It was blue and covered her past her knees.  Maggie was ecstatic.  She still held onto the simple tunic she had before, wanting to save her lovely new garment for special occasions... whatever those may have been.  Even with her excitement though, John could sense there was a hint of sadness in her that night.  

"Is everything alright, Maggie?"

"Oh... yes.  Of course.  I just feel a little guilty is all," she replied.

"What ever do you have to feel guilty about, my love?"

"I... don't have anything for you.  I'm sorry... I just feel so useless sometimes.  You're so good to me and I'm..."

John placed the tip of his finger over her mouth and then pulled it away, "you're the only gift I'll ever need, Maggie LaRue.  If I become a millionaire or die penniless, as long as you're with me, that's all that matters."

"I love you, John Carlson."

"I love you too, Maggie."

The pair enjoyed a simple dinner and then sat together by the small stove John had purchased earlier that month like it was a fireplace.  John looked out the cabin's lone window for but a moment, and caught a glimpse of a shooting star.

"Did you see that?!" He exclaimed.

"What?"  Maggie replied.

"A falling star!  Quick... make a wish!"

"Uh... alright," Maggie thought for a moment, but she really only wanted one thing.  "I wish my friends were here.  I wish I could see them again."

Things got deathly quiet for a moment until Maggie finally spoke.  "I don't deserve to be here, John."

John furrowed his brow in confusion.  "What?  Whatever do you mean, Maggie?"

"I promised Greta that I'd take care of them... but they're all gone.  I failed them all.  Greta and Connie... they sacrificed themselves to save my life... and I've done nothing to deserve it."

"Maggie..."

"Oh, god... Connie... I... I watched her die.... I couldn't help her... I was... I'm too small and I could’t do anything..."

John wasn't really sure what had happened. Maggie was upset, but finally ready to open up to him.

"I don't deserve to be here, John.  If it had to be one of us, it should have been Connie.  If it weren't for her, we all would have died in a matter of days... if not sooner.  She was so strong, so tough.  She could be an absolute asshole sometimes, but she would do anything for us.  She took everything that came at her in stride.  It should have been me who went under the wheel."  By this point, Maggie was in tears.

"She sounds pretty special, Maggie."

"She was... they all were."

"I think you're looking at strength all wrong though."

Maggie was confused by John's statement, "wha-what do you mean?"

"Maybe real strength is in the sacrifice itself.  After all, what good is having strength if you can't use it to save those you care about?"  John gently rubbed his finger against Maggie's cheeks to wipe her tiny tears away.  "I can't claim to know her, but it sounds to me like she was even stronger than you think.  Now it's your job to honor her in death by trying to lead a happy life."

Maggie smiled up at her gigantic lover, "John?"

"Yes, my love?

"I think I'm ready to tell you about, well everything... about what happened."

John looked at her with concern, feeling her begin to tremble in his hand.

"You don't have to, Maggie.  If it's too hard..."

"No. No I think it's time.  And I want you to know about my friends... I don't want them to be forgotten."

"Alright then," he said while running a finger down her hair.

"I have to tell you something first... I'm afraid though... I'm worried you'll... that you'll think different of me afterwords."

"Well... I can't say what I will or won't think until it's said... but I can assure you I'll still love you, Maggie."

Maggie scooted towards his thumb and nuzzled her head against it.  She continued  to tremble, fear and sadness flowing from her eyes.  John continued to stroke her like the precious thing she was.

"My friends and I... all of us lost our husbands in a mine explosion.  Most of the women in Heaven did."  She didn't even mention how they'd also lost their children to Typhoid.

"Heaven?" John asked.

"It was a town not far from here.  It's gone now," she replied.

"What do you mean 'gone'?"

"I'll get to that," Maggie assured him.  "After the explosion the town died.  The five of us didn't know what to do, so we pooled the insurance money we'd received and bought the hotel.  We loved the place, it was so beautiful... and it's where the five of us first met.  We didn't want to see it go abandoned."

"Doesn't exactly sound like the soundest business venture," John quipped.  He could tell Maggie wasn't amused by it.  "I'm sorry... go on."

"No... no it wasn't.  This is what I'm afraid to tell you... we... we sold ourselves there, John."  Maggie paused to see if anything had changed in his face, and was relieved to see he that he still looked at her with the same loving eyes.  "And we liked it.  We were good at it.  There was something... something about being the objects of men's desire... of making them crave us... and making them pay for it.  We did really well for ourselves."

John was silent.

"Please, John... what are you thinking.  Please don't hate me."

"Hate you?  How could you ever think that, Maggie.  Is this a shock, of course... but you're still my Maggie... I still love you."

"Oh thank god... I'm sorry I kept this from you.  Please don't think differently of me," she pleaded, pressing herself against his thumb even harder.

"Maggie, if you knew some of the things I'VE done... you'd most certainly see me differently.  I'm in no place to judge you," he tried to assure her, but then realized he may have frightened her a bit.

"I realize now it was all just a way to avoid dealing with William's death.  It gave me control of something, whereas Will Jr.'s passing made me feel helpless."  This was the first time she'd mentioned her child to John. "I think the other girls were doing the same," she mused.  "The ultimate irony is that now I am completely at the mercy of everyone and everything.  I'm in control of nothing."

Maggie wiped her tears across her arm and continued, "could you do me a favor, John?"

"Anything, my love."

"Could you write this down?"

"Really?  Why?"  

"You asked me if there was any family I'd like to see... and yes, there is.  I just know that if they see me like this it'll break their hearts.  Or worse, someone might try to take me away from you.  Maybe at some point, we could mail them what you write so they'll at least know I'm safe."

"Um... yes... yes... of course,"  John stammered.

"And again... I don't want my friends to be forgotten... and I...  I guess I don't want to be forgotten either.  Is that selfish of me?"

"No, Maggie... not at all.  No one wants to disappear.  No one wants the world to swallow them up."

John set Maggie down on the table and moved his inkwell closer.  He opened his journal and then smiled at Maggie, "whenever you're ready, my love."

Maggie settled onto her silken bed and crossed her legs in front of her.

"I suppose we can start with the day that stranger brought what he found in the desert into the hotel," Maggie thought out loud while rubbing the side of her face.

"Maggie?"  John interrupted.

"Yes?"

"I think you should start earlier," he suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me about the day William died," John said bluntly.

Maggie seemed mildly shocked, she wasn't expecting to have to relive that particular trauma that night.  "I... I don't know if I can, John."

John extended his hand and stroked the side of her head with his thumb, watching her eyes close as she leaned into it.

"Yes you can... keep moving forward, Maggie.  You just have to exorcise the past first."

Maggie gathered herself for a moment, and then looked back up towards John, "it was August fourth, 1892.  The entire town felt it when it happened..."

From there on the dated entries ceased as the remainder of the journal recounts Maggie's experience.  The journal would end with John finding Maggie in the mud.  He had run out of pages at that point and his final scribblings could be found written inside the back cover.  As I turned the last page, a small thread worn bookmark fell out of the pages and onto the floor.  

I continued reading the last of this ridiculous, but captivating story... wondering about my father's words as I finished it.  Yes, it held my attention, but did it change me the way he said it would?  Perhaps it was just his dementia talking.  I leaned down to pick up the bookmark and placed it back into the old journal and closed it.  I set the book down on my desk, shut off the lamp and got up to go to bed.

That's when a feeling struck me.  It couldn't be... could it?  I walked back behind my desk and clicked the lamp back on.  I flipped the book back open to where I placed the bookmark and removed it.  It was unusually small for a bookmark... narrow, maybe a couple of inches long or more.  There was a hole in the center of it... and it was made of silk.  Upon closer inspection, what looked like the worn-in form of femininity was faintly visible.

It couldn't be...

Tiny marks were barely visible on its almost ancient surface.  I placed the strip directly underneath the lamp and retrieved a magnifying glass from the drawer.  What I saw sent me flying backwards against the bookcase.  I dropped the magnifying glass under the desk and had to crawl underneath to retrieve it.  When I crawled back up I wasn't sure I wanted to confirm what I'd seen...  that I, like my father, wasn't losing my sense of reality.

The tiny marks were hand prints. There was no mistake about it.  They'd stretched across the back of the fabric where over a hundred years ago, a tiny woman had used the back of her garment to wipe dirt from her hands.  I simple action, something she probably didn't even think about, with the exception of maybe a little embarrassment for ruining her clothing.  Something every one one of us has done at some point in our lives, if not every day.  But for me... it broke my sense of the possible, of structure, of any thing I knew.

Dad was right.  Things would never feel the same again.

I had to be sure.


End Part 32
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Thu Mar 25, 2021 7:59 pm

Part 33-"Westward Ho!" 


It was hard to concentrate on work that week.  I'd already decided that I was going to gas up my Jeep and head for Nevada.  Matters of business paled in comparison to those of the cosmic inside my head.  When Friday finally came, I told my wife that I needed a weekend to myself and asked her if she could look after dad while I was gone.  She was confused and a little frightened by my secretive mission to the desert, but I assured her that everything was fine.

This was just something that I need to do.  I would leave in the morning.

Dad thought I was going out there looking for riches and wanted to come with.  I knew it would be too much for him, though it pained me to leave him behind.  He deserved answers as much as I did.  He's the one who set me on this path in the first place.

I took extra fuel, twice as much food and three times more water than I'd need in a two day period, just to be safe.  God knows I didn't want to get stranded out there by myself, but I did feel that I needed to do it alone.  As I passed through Wendover, the Nevada Great Basin greeted me with nothing but the harshest landscape imaginable.  How anyone eked out a living there, let alone towns full, astounded me.

Using GPS, old maps I had downloaded, and John's journals, I made my way off the highway and onto rarely used dirt tracks for a couple of hours towards the valley.  The road conveniently followed the railroad grade the entire way, the tracks having been torn up long ago.  

Most of the valley and west were bordered by restricted government land with signs posted that violations were 'strictly enforced'.  I drove faster than I probably should have, eager to begin my investigation... and also not wanting to find out how strict enforcement was.  I wondered if the government knew what otherworldly secrets the land held, or if the restrictions were there because they did.  I scanned the foothills of the mountain, the daunting nature of my task nagged at my mind.  Was I biting off more than I could chew?

The large foundations of the Cornish Mill appeared on the hillside, sticking out like a sore thumb.  In fact, foundations were all that remained, the building having burned down years ago.  It didn't make my heart race any less.  I jerked the wheel down the rough road leading past the mill and into the canyon beyond.  Nothing but a four wheel drive would have made it up that bastard.  The switchbacks alone were enough to make me think I should have considered wearing a diaper.  

There at the base of the switchbacks though was the site of the dump, where Maggie and her friends had spent days.  I searched it thoroughly, but there was nothing but wood, metal, glass and too many years passed to give me the evidence I needed.  I pressed on up the perilous switchbacks, trying to keep my fear of heights in check.  It wouldn't be much further before I reached Heaven... I just hoped it would be the ghost town and not the afterlife.

As important as the place was to the story, Heaven was very much a disappointment.   Not much more than rock foundations remained.   Most of its burned remains must have been washed away in flash floods.  The larger foundations of the Heaven's Gate Hotel were easy to find, but no extraterrestrial skulls or indestructible boxes full miniaturized skeletons were to be found.  

My heart began to sink.  Was I fooling myself?  Was I convincing myself there was more to this than there was?  The marks on the little silken bookmark could have been made by something else, I suppose.  Matrixing and all that jazz.  And if all of this was real, had the passage of time robbed me of any real resolution?

I camped in Heaven that night, pouring over John's notebook to try and locate his cabin.  For as detailed as the man was about everything else, he seemed to want to keep its location to himself.  It made sense... he wanted to protect Maggie.  Google Earth did me no good because his home could have been one of thousands of miners' shacks that scattered those hills.  As much as I wanted to find it, it became painfully obvious that it wasn't meant to be... yet another disappointment.

I pondered my next move.  The location of Kern's Junction was still visible from satellite images.  Like most defunct railroad towns, there wasn't much of anything left, but the depression of the turntable and the faint outlines of buildings and streets were still visible.  

This would be my last shot.  I had to be back to work on Monday so I only had the morning to investigate before I had to head back.  If there was nothing to be found between the mill and the railroad town, then that would be it.  I'd go home just as confused and frustrated as when I came.  There was one thing in my mind that could settle everything, the proof I needed... if it was still there.

My mood was different the following morning.  Watching the sunrise over the desert far below from inside the canyon had a calming effect.  Feeling the same cool morning air those women did over a century ago felt surreal.  If nothing else came of the entire endeavor, I at least had that morning... and at that moment, I was ok with that.  Maybe some mysteries are supposed to remain just that.  It's what makes them endure... it's what makes us keep telling stories.

I packed up camp and made my way back down the canyon, thankful at every turn that I was the only insane person out there that weekend.  I couldn't imagine meeting another vehicle on that godforsaken road.  One thing that struck me was how different the terrain seemed from Maggie's accounts.  I couldn't get over how... I don't know... small everything felt.  The locations, the distances weren't what I had imagined.  Obviously it's because I wasn't seeing them with tiny eyes like she was.

I decided to park my Jeep near the mill and walk along the top of the railroad grade into Kern's Junction.  That way I could take my time and see more clearly than along the road itself.  Kern's was only a few miles away, it wouldn't be much more than a long hike.  I strapped my camelback on, brought some trail mix for lunch, then started on my journey.   Walking nearly the same path as those four women, it made me feel even closer to them.  The heat, the dryness, the rocky terrain... I was experiencing it almost as they did, though I wasn't about to remove my shoes and walk it barefoot.

I kept my eyes peeled near the edge of the road for anything that might stand out... for that one thing that could literally change the world.  I walked and walked, the desert revealing nothing but rock and sage.  After maybe a little more than an hour I decided to sit down and take a break.  The heat was punishing and the weight of all that water didn't help.  I can't imagine what it must have been like to have giant glass bottle strapped to my back.  I popped some trail mix into my mouth and munched on it, continuing to scan the desert floor for any anomaly...

...and there it was.

I nearly choked on my mouthful of salted nuts, forcing myself to vomit them up before I did.  I shakily got to my feet and ran down the side of the grade towards what I could not believe I was seeing, rattlesnakes be damned!  It stuck out like a sore thumb... on a little rise above the desert floor, devoid of plant life, was a small pile of pebbles just inches long.  It didn't belong there... it was no natural formation... these were deliberately placed.  

My heart felt like it was going to jump right out of my chest.  More than just the desert heat was making me sweat.  This was it.  I retrieved my Swiss Army knife from my pocket and extracted its tweezers.  Taking a deep breath to try and steady my hand, I began to painstakingly remove the tiny rocks one by one so as not to damage what could be underneath.  

Even though this is what i had come for, driving into the middle of nowhere for answers I so desperately needed... when the miniature human skull revealed itself to me, I dropped the tweezers in shock.  I fell backwards, just as I had in my office.  Perhaps a part of me hoped there wasn't anything under the little rock pile.  I felt chills running up and down my spine as I forced myself to lean back over the astoundingly small grave.  I flicked a few more pebbles away to reveal a tiny rib cage, collapsed from a century of weight and decay.  Her arms were still crossed over chest.

I lost complete control of my emotions.  The tears came fast and hard, sobbing like I hadn't done since my youth.  Had my conceptions of the way the universe works just been shattered?  Sure... but that's not why I wept.  All I could think about is what this poor woman went through to end up there.  

Her name was Ellen Rhodes, but there was no marker to indicate that.  Only a hastily assembled pile of rocks to cover her body.  Everything she'd endured had become to much for her and she chose to escape on her own terms.  It’s not my place to judge her choice... it's just heartbreaking is all.  Maggie and Connie stood right there, right below me and said goodbye to their friend.  Not far back on the road would Sandra's final resting place, and ahead... Connie's.  I knew neither of which I would ever find.

It was all true.

I sat quietly for an unknown amount of time, trying to get a hold of myself.  I didn't know these people, but I grieved for them like I did. It was a confusing and powerful feeling, one that I've never felt before or since.

Once I felt I could move again, I pulled my phone from my back pocket.  I set the knife down next to Ellen for scale and snapped a couple of photos.  Then carefully and methodically I covered Ellen's bones over again.  Several different desert flowers were in bloom, so I picked a single white one and placed it on Ellen's grave.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you, but just know that you and Maggie, Sandra, Connie and Greta aren't forgotten.  I'm sorry I disturbed your grave and I'll leave you to rest again."

The tears began to flood my eyes again.

I put my hat back on and wiped my eyes dry.  I looked ahead towards the site of Kern's Junction and then back towards my truck.  I'd found what I needed, but still felt like my journey wasn't quite over.


End Part 33
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Thu Mar 25, 2021 8:26 pm

Part 34-"Elysium" 


I had the answers I came for, but it only felt right to press on.  Maggie and Connie did it at a fraction of my size and under much harsher conditions.  I climbed back up the side of railroad grade and continued towards Kern's Junction.  A couple more miles along the abandoned railway and the faint outlines of where buildings once stood began to appear in the sagebrush.  There was almost nothing left, even the rail grade smoothed out through town.  As important as both Heaven and Kern's Junction were to all of this, today they make for pretty disappointing ghost towns.  Nothing like what Hollywood would lead you to think all deserted cities look like, rows of crooked false fronts and saloon doors swinging in the wind.  It was just... nothing.

And somewhere underfoot lay the lonely, unmarked resting place of Connie McCormack.

I walked the street for a while, imagining what it might have looked like, and what it might have looked like to them.  There wasn't much more to be done or said, so I began my hike back to the Jeep.  That's when I saw a cloud of dust rushing in my direction.

Oh shit.

In almost no time at all a large black SUV with blacked out windows was stopped in front of me, its dust cloud catching up behind it and forcing me to cover my nose and mouth.  Two men exited the vehicle, one hung behind the door and the other approached me with his hand straddling his side arm.  Neither were wearing any proper military insignias, so I assumed they were rent-a-soldiers.  I couldn't help but feel like I was suddenly in the old west, about to get gunned down by the law.  

The man nearest me removed his sunglasses and cocked his head, "Saw your car parked back at the old mill.  Son... I'm assuming you saw the restricted area signs a few mikes back?"

"Oh, uh... no, sir... I must have missed those," I lied.

"Yeah, I'm sure you did," he snarked.  "You know you're trespassing on government property?"

I raised my hands in a submissive posture and tried not to make eye contact.  "I'm sorry, sir... I didn't mean any harm.  I... I was just on a hike."

"There's lots of places to hike that ain't on government land, son," he said, smacking his gum around in his mouth as he spoke.

"Right... yes sir... I know," I replied.  At this point I was just hoping this would be an interrogation and not end with me digging my own shallow grave.  The man stared me down in silence.  I still refused to make eye contact.

"So what'chu doin' out here, boy?"

"Well... if I may, sir...," I slowly knelt down and picked up John's journals and held them up.  The man clenched up a bit, so I went even slower.  "I found these journals in my father's attic.  They belonged to a great uncle who prospected these parts in the late 1800s.  I was just curious, sir... that's all."

The man took another step forward and outstretched his hand, "lemme see those."  I made sure the book with the prospecting information was on top, hoping he wouldn't look through the other one.  That would be much harder to explain.  He flipped through it, being a little rougher on the delicate pages than I was comfortable with.

"Please be careful, sir... they're very old."

He looked at me disapprovingly, but conceded and took more care with his perusing.  "So.. you're a bit of a history buff, huh?"

I nodded and after one last flip through the book he handed them back to me.

"Well why didn't you say so, son?!  I've been quite interested in the history of this valley myself!  I love exploring old mining towns, have since I was a kid.  Besides there's not much else to do since I started this job but explore these hills.  You're the first person I've seen out here in the last three years!"

The mood suddenly lifted and the man became quite friendly.  Even the other gentlemen near the car smiled and shook his head, then set back down inside the comfortable air conditioned cab.  

"Lots of crazy history in this valley," he mused.  "You ever hear of Heaven?"

"Stayed up there last night," I replied, immediately wondering if I should have told him that.

"Strange place... story goes a bunch of prostitutes disappeared up there a long time ago and then the whole town went up in flames. Your great uncle mention anything about it in those old books of yours?"

"More than you'd believe," I replied.  He seemed perplexed by my strange answer, but he wouldn't get anything more out of me than that.

"Well, I appreciate your curiosity, son, but a job's a job and I gotta escort you out of here."

"Of course, sir... and again, I'm sorry.  I'll start walking back to my vehicle."

"No, no... well give ya a ride back," he offered.  "It's hotter'n hell out here.  Hop in back."

"Thank you, sir.  I appreciate that."

The man talked about the other mining camps he'd visited in the area as we drove back to my Jeep.  The other man never said a word.  As they drove, I kept my eyes peeled to steal one last glance of Ellen's grave.  They dropped me off and waited for me to pack up my gear, then followed me to where the government property signs were posted.  I stopped my vehicle and got back out, then walked back up to the man's window to shake his hand.

"Thank you," I said.

"For what exactly?" The man chuckled.

"I guess for not hauling me in and making me disappear like one of the flying saucers your lot have stashed out here," I joked... Jesus Christ, was I pressing my luck or what?  What the fuck was I doing?!  The man let out a nervous chuckle and bid me farewell.  They remained near the sign as I drove away.  Back to my home... back to my family.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As I walked through the front door, I could hear my wife running the vacuum in the living room.  I dropped my gear in the entry way and rushed in to greet her.  I grabbed her by the waist and kissed her passionately, deeply.

"Wh-what was that for?  She asked, pleasantly surprised.

"I don't know," I replied.  "Does it have to be for anything?"

She looked at me strangely, but pleased, "are... are you alright?  What happened out there?"

I though about it for a few seconds, not really sure how to answer.  I really wasn't sure myself.  "Closure, I guess."

"For what?"

"I'm not quite ready to talk about it yet.  But I will... I promise."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me on the cheek.

"I love you...," I said.  "I don't want you to ever question that."

She kissed me hard and told me she loved me as well.  "Alright, weirdo... how about you finish bringing your stuff in and then... well... the kids are staying over at their friends houses tonight..."

I raised my eyebrows in acknowledgement of her less than subtle suggestion. And then kissed her again. 

I began gathering my stuff from the Jeep when I noticed my father sitting on the front porch.  He looked rather down so I dropped what I was doing and sat down next to him.

"How you doin' today, dad?  You feelin' alright?"  I asked, placing my hand on his forehead.

"I'm fine," he grumbled.  "I just... I would have really liked to go with you, son."

"Oh... I'm sorry, dad.  I just... I didn't think...," I wasn't quite sure how to put it tactfully.

"No, no it's not your fault, son.  I know I'm not well... upstairs.  I know I probably couldn't handle it.  It's just... some of the happiest times I had as a kid were spent messing around out in the desert with my father and brothers."

"I'm sorry dad."

He was clearly having one of his clearer days, and he was a little tortured with the realization that his mind was slipping more and more.  He wasn't hiding it very well.

"We prospected out there for years and never found anything," he said.  "What about you, son... did you find anything?"

"I did, dad.  I really did."

"Oh, are we gonna be rich?" He chuckled.

"I didn't go out there looking for gold, dad."

"Oh?"

I leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Ellen, dad... I found Ellen."

He leaned back, and looked at me with confusion.  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and showed him the pictures I took.  His eyes grew wide and he covered his mouth in shock

"Oh... my... god.  I knew it... I knew it was true!"  I'd never seen my dad cry until that moment.

"It is, dad.  Every word."

"I wish I could have been there with you, son."

"Me too, dad, me too."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, I sat at my desk staring at the picture of Ellen's grave.  I thought about what all of it meant... and came to no conclusive answer.  I should have been concerned about our place in the universe, but wasn't.  I should have been perplexed by the physics of it all, but again... I wasn't.  I just felt... tired and heartbroken.  I hovered my thumb over my phone... and then brought it down on the delete button.

The journal ends with John finding Maggie in the street, but that's it.  Even though I had the answers I went looking for, more began to arise.  I wanted more.  I wanted to know they were ok.  I wanted to know if they were happy... I hoped they were, to their last days.  I guess that part will have to remain a mystery.

The books were showing their age and I knew they didn't have a whole lot of years left in them.  I decided to take it upon myself to rewrite them.  I wasn't sure if I would publish them or not then, all I could think is that I didn't want this information to die with me.  Whether it was just to pass on to my kids, or share with the whole world.  

I wanted to try to novelize it, make it into a story more than a series of journal entries. Perhaps it'll be a little easier to read then.  I've played with the journal's structure a little and took some creative license with some of the dialogue, only that which is unknowable.  Nothing to change the story, nothing to change the events.  They're all still there, too fantastic in and of themselves to bother making things up.

So I leave you now to ponder as I still do.  My father was right, I feel different. Everything feels different.  Perhaps it's changed you, too.  I don't know if there's some great moral to take away from it all.  For me, I just want to treasure every moment with the ones I love.  You never know when the universe may throw you a curve ball and every one of them could be taken from you.

I made one more trip into the desert, and this time... I brought my father with me.


The End
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Thu Mar 25, 2021 8:31 pm

Thanks to everyone for reading. I know it isn't the usual sort of thing we find here, but I hope you enjoyed it. Please, let me know what you think.

Thanks again,

BTB
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

Axtwyt
Shrink Adept
Shrink Adept
Posts: 88
Joined: Fri Feb 21, 2020 2:06 am
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Axtwyt » Thu Mar 25, 2021 11:35 pm

Thank you for the story. I enjoyed it.

User avatar
Bloodthirstybutcher
Shrink Master
Shrink Master
Posts: 790
Joined: Tue Nov 10, 2020 10:36 pm
Location: Nebraska
Gender:
Contact:

Re: Burning Heaven

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Fri Mar 26, 2021 1:09 am

Axtwyt wrote:
Thu Mar 25, 2021 11:35 pm
Thank you for the story. I enjoyed it.
Thanks for reading it!
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

Post Reply

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: Bing [Bot] and 13 guests