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The Magic Monkey.
He lay sprawled out in a wet, slobbering, mess. His eyes fixed on a particular point unnervingly serious and careful. The soft rhythmic panting set a chill down ones spine as everyone in the circle of friends stepped one pace closer.
Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap went the feet of the man in white and blue as he drew a key from his pocket whilst tip toeing to the door. Click, went the catch as everyone’s heads turned, then sighed. The creature, the beast did not move. Its eyes look restless, its body lay limp, a soft whimpering sound immerged from its chest and everyone in that white room panicked – for it to make noises was too much for some.
On a summers day at sea, the sun beat down on the sailor’s forehead. Singular droplets of sweat dribbled down the sides of his bare scalp – not unusual when working in these conditions. He tugged at ropes and tied at knots and lifted buckets and carried sacks and turned wheels and shouted all day till he lay in a sack – an old empty smelly sack of old spuds to rest his eyes. The too and throw motion of the sea rocked him into his sleepy daze. His eye lids almost shut except those conspicuous slits before complete relaxation and darkness… he would wait watching the light, a slice of light that shone and moved back and forth on the dirty floor, from a slit in the cabins roof. He would listen to the creak of the wood and joints of the table bolted to the floor. Faintly the constant sound of the droning sea wailed in his ears as he became desperate for one… for two moments peace in a state of sleep.
He itched the left cheek of his buttocks. You know that dreadful material that spuds come in, the brown weaving material that is full of an earthy stench, it itched him, it set rashes over his body he longed for the clean crisp cotton sheets of a bed, the firm mattress and pert pillow which its cream cover sheet.
He kept itching, and itching at his ass. He could not refrain from the scratching and as with the personality of an itch when it is paid attention to it moved, up and down round and round his entire body! Moving from place to place… Scratching clawing at his own flesh. The itch travelled just under the first layer of his skin, it ran along his nerves and creeped into his veins and travelled along with his blood. Deeper into his body it itched away at him. Blood trickled from the swirls and patterns of deep red marks he had scoured with his nails. He started to get restless and moved violently in the sack trying to escape but the sailor couldn’t. The sailor was caught in the arms of its earthy smell, of its itchy grasp and he was no way going to escape easily. He yelled and screamed as the slits in the floor no longer shone through the tiny holes of the sack. A round ring of black followed him, where ever his eyes moved the set position of this ring in the air followed, his pupils grew larger and redder. The sound of the beats of a drum sounded and the prods of a sharp stick impaled his body frequently. He screamed in absolute pain but it did not stop. The chant of a thousand mysterious beings circled him droning like the sea in his ears. He moved his arms up as if to break out of the opening in the sack but the opening was gone. He was gone, the darkness and blood and itches were there. They were there laughing at him because they had got him now. He wasn’t escaping them now. Over come with nausea he puked violently as darkness laughed. His chest grew tight, and tighter, and tighter as he felt for his chest in anguish. He looked up feeling fainter and fainter dizzier and dizzier, he saw the shadow of legs through the sack lining, he saw legs dancing one and two, one and two around and around him in his sack. One and two one and two then the bang of a Staff on the floor. One and two one and two bang, one and two one and two bang, one and two one and two bang…….
The turbulence of the sea rocked him violently on the floor his bruised body, his suffocating lungs and sick breath. He concentrated on the legs that pranced around him. He screamed for help, but could not talk. The chants over come him. He screamed for help but nothing come out. He yelled for the luitenant but the screatching left his throat. The crackling, high pitched squeal that left rang and pierced in his ears. His eyes focusing on the shadows of legs, dark legs and bare feet. The rattle of beads and a staff – He focused on dark moving shadows as he saw a huge black object coming down on him as the dancing legs, stopped.
He lay sprawled out in a wet, slobbering, mess. His eyes fixed on a particular point unnervingly serious and careful. The soft rhythmic panting set a chill down ones spine as everyone in the circle of friends stepped one pace closer.
Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap went the feet of the man in white and blue as he drew a key from his pocket whilst tip toeing to the door. Click, went the catch as everyone’s heads turned, then sighed. The creature, the beast did not move. Its eyes look restless, its body lay limp, a soft whimpering sound immerged from its chest and everyone in that white room panicked, for it to make noises was too much for some.
His dark red eyes flickered and the man in blue and white tottered to him nervously, bent over and leaned down. He clipped a metal lock to the steel chain tight around its neck. The chain had worn away at the chestnut fur and left the bald skin bleeding. The man in blue and white stand tall and turned to the rest of the men in long white coats in that clean white room. They place a name tag and a mirror by its feet, and a rope. ‘David’.
He lay sprawled out in a wet, slobbering, mess. His eyes fixed on a particular point unnervingly serious and careful. The soft rhythmic panting set a chill down ones spine as everyone in the circle of friends stepped one pace closer.
Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap went the feet of the man in white and blue as he drew a key from his pocket whilst tip toeing to the door. Click, went the catch as everyone’s heads turned, then sighed. The creature, the beast did not move. Its eyes look restless, its body lay limp, a soft whimpering sound immerged from its chest and everyone in that white room panicked – for it to make noises was too much for some.
On a summers day at sea, the sun beat down on the sailor’s forehead. Singular droplets of sweat dribbled down the sides of his bare scalp – not unusual when working in these conditions. He tugged at ropes and tied at knots and lifted buckets and carried sacks and turned wheels and shouted all day till he lay in a sack – an old empty smelly sack of old spuds to rest his eyes. The too and throw motion of the sea rocked him into his sleepy daze. His eye lids almost shut except those conspicuous slits before complete relaxation and darkness… he would wait watching the light, a slice of light that shone and moved back and forth on the dirty floor, from a slit in the cabins roof. He would listen to the creak of the wood and joints of the table bolted to the floor. Faintly the constant sound of the droning sea wailed in his ears as he became desperate for one… for two moments peace in a state of sleep.
He itched the left cheek of his buttocks. You know that dreadful material that spuds come in, the brown weaving material that is full of an earthy stench, it itched him, it set rashes over his body he longed for the clean crisp cotton sheets of a bed, the firm mattress and pert pillow which its cream cover sheet.
He kept itching, and itching at his ass. He could not refrain from the scratching and as with the personality of an itch when it is paid attention to it moved, up and down round and round his entire body! Moving from place to place… Scratching clawing at his own flesh. The itch travelled just under the first layer of his skin, it ran along his nerves and creeped into his veins and travelled along with his blood. Deeper into his body it itched away at him. Blood trickled from the swirls and patterns of deep red marks he had scoured with his nails. He started to get restless and moved violently in the sack trying to escape but the sailor couldn’t. The sailor was caught in the arms of its earthy smell, of its itchy grasp and he was no way going to escape easily. He yelled and screamed as the slits in the floor no longer shone through the tiny holes of the sack. A round ring of black followed him, where ever his eyes moved the set position of this ring in the air followed, his pupils grew larger and redder. The sound of the beats of a drum sounded and the prods of a sharp stick impaled his body frequently. He screamed in absolute pain but it did not stop. The chant of a thousand mysterious beings circled him droning like the sea in his ears. He moved his arms up as if to break out of the opening in the sack but the opening was gone. He was gone, the darkness and blood and itches were there. They were there laughing at him because they had got him now. He wasn’t escaping them now. Over come with nausea he puked violently as darkness laughed. His chest grew tight, and tighter, and tighter as he felt for his chest in anguish. He looked up feeling fainter and fainter dizzier and dizzier, he saw the shadow of legs through the sack lining, he saw legs dancing one and two, one and two around and around him in his sack. One and two one and two then the bang of a Staff on the floor. One and two one and two bang, one and two one and two bang, one and two one and two bang…….
The turbulence of the sea rocked him violently on the floor his bruised body, his suffocating lungs and sick breath. He concentrated on the legs that pranced around him. He screamed for help, but could not talk. The chants over come him. He screamed for help but nothing come out. He yelled for the luitenant but the screatching left his throat. The crackling, high pitched squeal that left rang and pierced in his ears. His eyes focusing on the shadows of legs, dark legs and bare feet. The rattle of beads and a staff – He focused on dark moving shadows as he saw a huge black object coming down on him as the dancing legs, stopped.
He lay sprawled out in a wet, slobbering, mess. His eyes fixed on a particular point unnervingly serious and careful. The soft rhythmic panting set a chill down ones spine as everyone in the circle of friends stepped one pace closer.
Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap went the feet of the man in white and blue as he drew a key from his pocket whilst tip toeing to the door. Click, went the catch as everyone’s heads turned, then sighed. The creature, the beast did not move. Its eyes look restless, its body lay limp, a soft whimpering sound immerged from its chest and everyone in that white room panicked, for it to make noises was too much for some.
His dark red eyes flickered and the man in blue and white tottered to him nervously, bent over and leaned down. He clipped a metal lock to the steel chain tight around its neck. The chain had worn away at the chestnut fur and left the bald skin bleeding. The man in blue and white stand tall and turned to the rest of the men in long white coats in that clean white room. They place a name tag and a mirror by its feet, and a rope. ‘David’.
pb wrote:
> Methinks you should write stories more often. Fantastic stuff, if a
> little disturbing!
O thanks dude! ... um you are my cheeky monkey pinko! ;)
> Methinks you should write stories more often. Fantastic stuff, if a
> little disturbing!
O thanks dude! ... um you are my cheeky monkey pinko! ;)
Methinks you should write stories more often. Fantastic stuff, if a little disturbing!
I liked it.
Reminds me of myselft when I was a mokey...
Reminds me of myselft when I was a mokey...
I need to see a psychiatrist...
Excellent stuff, lovelly interlinking/twist - very well written as always.
The Magic Monkey.
He lay sprawled out in a wet, slobbering, mess. His eyes fixed on a particular point unnervingly serious and careful. The soft rhythmic panting set a chill down ones spine as everyone in the circle of friends stepped one pace closer.
Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap went the feet of the man in white and blue as he drew a key from his pocket whilst tip toeing to the door. Click, went the catch as everyone’s heads turned, then sighed. The creature, the beast did not move. Its eyes look restless, its body lay limp, a soft whimpering sound immerged from its chest and everyone in that white room panicked – for it to make noises was too much for some.
On a summers day at sea, the sun beat down on the sailor’s forehead. Singular droplets of sweat dribbled down the sides of his bare scalp – not unusual when working in these conditions. He tugged at ropes and tied at knots and lifted buckets and carried sacks and turned wheels and shouted all day till he lay in a sack – an old empty smelly sack of old spuds to rest his eyes. The too and throw motion of the sea rocked him into his sleepy daze. His eye lids almost shut except those conspicuous slits before complete relaxation and darkness… he would wait watching the light, a slice of light that shone and moved back and forth on the dirty floor, from a slit in the cabins roof. He would listen to the creak of the wood and joints of the table bolted to the floor. Faintly the constant sound of the droning sea wailed in his ears as he became desperate for one… for two moments peace in a state of sleep.
He itched the left cheek of his buttocks. You know that dreadful material that spuds come in, the brown weaving material that is full of an earthy stench, it itched him, it set rashes over his body he longed for the clean crisp cotton sheets of a bed, the firm mattress and pert pillow which its cream cover sheet.
He kept itching, and itching at his ass. He could not refrain from the scratching and as with the personality of an itch when it is paid attention to it moved, up and down round and round his entire body! Moving from place to place… Scratching clawing at his own flesh. The itch travelled just under the first layer of his skin, it ran along his nerves and creeped into his veins and travelled along with his blood. Deeper into his body it itched away at him. Blood trickled from the swirls and patterns of deep red marks he had scoured with his nails. He started to get restless and moved violently in the sack trying to escape but the sailor couldn’t. The sailor was caught in the arms of its earthy smell, of its itchy grasp and he was no way going to escape easily. He yelled and screamed as the slits in the floor no longer shone through the tiny holes of the sack. A round ring of black followed him, where ever his eyes moved the set position of this ring in the air followed, his pupils grew larger and redder. The sound of the beats of a drum sounded and the prods of a sharp stick impaled his body frequently. He screamed in absolute pain but it did not stop. The chant of a thousand mysterious beings circled him droning like the sea in his ears. He moved his arms up as if to break out of the opening in the sack but the opening was gone. He was gone, the darkness and blood and itches were there. They were there laughing at him because they had got him now. He wasn’t escaping them now. Over come with nausea he puked violently as darkness laughed. His chest grew tight, and tighter, and tighter as he felt for his chest in anguish. He looked up feeling fainter and fainter dizzier and dizzier, he saw the shadow of legs through the sack lining, he saw legs dancing one and two, one and two around and around him in his sack. One and two one and two then the bang of a Staff on the floor. One and two one and two bang, one and two one and two bang, one and two one and two bang…….
The turbulence of the sea rocked him violently on the floor his bruised body, his suffocating lungs and sick breath. He concentrated on the legs that pranced around him. He screamed for help, but could not talk. The chants over come him. He screamed for help but nothing come out. He yelled for the luitenant but the screatching left his throat. The crackling, high pitched squeal that left rang and pierced in his ears. His eyes focusing on the shadows of legs, dark legs and bare feet. The rattle of beads and a staff – He focused on dark moving shadows as he saw a huge black object coming down on him as the dancing legs, stopped.
He lay sprawled out in a wet, slobbering, mess. His eyes fixed on a particular point unnervingly serious and careful. The soft rhythmic panting set a chill down ones spine as everyone in the circle of friends stepped one pace closer.
Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap went the feet of the man in white and blue as he drew a key from his pocket whilst tip toeing to the door. Click, went the catch as everyone’s heads turned, then sighed. The creature, the beast did not move. Its eyes look restless, its body lay limp, a soft whimpering sound immerged from its chest and everyone in that white room panicked, for it to make noises was too much for some.
His dark red eyes flickered and the man in blue and white tottered to him nervously, bent over and leaned down. He clipped a metal lock to the steel chain tight around its neck. The chain had worn away at the chestnut fur and left the bald skin bleeding. The man in blue and white stand tall and turned to the rest of the men in long white coats in that clean white room. They place a name tag and a mirror by its feet, and a rope. ‘David’.
He lay sprawled out in a wet, slobbering, mess. His eyes fixed on a particular point unnervingly serious and careful. The soft rhythmic panting set a chill down ones spine as everyone in the circle of friends stepped one pace closer.
Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap went the feet of the man in white and blue as he drew a key from his pocket whilst tip toeing to the door. Click, went the catch as everyone’s heads turned, then sighed. The creature, the beast did not move. Its eyes look restless, its body lay limp, a soft whimpering sound immerged from its chest and everyone in that white room panicked – for it to make noises was too much for some.
On a summers day at sea, the sun beat down on the sailor’s forehead. Singular droplets of sweat dribbled down the sides of his bare scalp – not unusual when working in these conditions. He tugged at ropes and tied at knots and lifted buckets and carried sacks and turned wheels and shouted all day till he lay in a sack – an old empty smelly sack of old spuds to rest his eyes. The too and throw motion of the sea rocked him into his sleepy daze. His eye lids almost shut except those conspicuous slits before complete relaxation and darkness… he would wait watching the light, a slice of light that shone and moved back and forth on the dirty floor, from a slit in the cabins roof. He would listen to the creak of the wood and joints of the table bolted to the floor. Faintly the constant sound of the droning sea wailed in his ears as he became desperate for one… for two moments peace in a state of sleep.
He itched the left cheek of his buttocks. You know that dreadful material that spuds come in, the brown weaving material that is full of an earthy stench, it itched him, it set rashes over his body he longed for the clean crisp cotton sheets of a bed, the firm mattress and pert pillow which its cream cover sheet.
He kept itching, and itching at his ass. He could not refrain from the scratching and as with the personality of an itch when it is paid attention to it moved, up and down round and round his entire body! Moving from place to place… Scratching clawing at his own flesh. The itch travelled just under the first layer of his skin, it ran along his nerves and creeped into his veins and travelled along with his blood. Deeper into his body it itched away at him. Blood trickled from the swirls and patterns of deep red marks he had scoured with his nails. He started to get restless and moved violently in the sack trying to escape but the sailor couldn’t. The sailor was caught in the arms of its earthy smell, of its itchy grasp and he was no way going to escape easily. He yelled and screamed as the slits in the floor no longer shone through the tiny holes of the sack. A round ring of black followed him, where ever his eyes moved the set position of this ring in the air followed, his pupils grew larger and redder. The sound of the beats of a drum sounded and the prods of a sharp stick impaled his body frequently. He screamed in absolute pain but it did not stop. The chant of a thousand mysterious beings circled him droning like the sea in his ears. He moved his arms up as if to break out of the opening in the sack but the opening was gone. He was gone, the darkness and blood and itches were there. They were there laughing at him because they had got him now. He wasn’t escaping them now. Over come with nausea he puked violently as darkness laughed. His chest grew tight, and tighter, and tighter as he felt for his chest in anguish. He looked up feeling fainter and fainter dizzier and dizzier, he saw the shadow of legs through the sack lining, he saw legs dancing one and two, one and two around and around him in his sack. One and two one and two then the bang of a Staff on the floor. One and two one and two bang, one and two one and two bang, one and two one and two bang…….
The turbulence of the sea rocked him violently on the floor his bruised body, his suffocating lungs and sick breath. He concentrated on the legs that pranced around him. He screamed for help, but could not talk. The chants over come him. He screamed for help but nothing come out. He yelled for the luitenant but the screatching left his throat. The crackling, high pitched squeal that left rang and pierced in his ears. His eyes focusing on the shadows of legs, dark legs and bare feet. The rattle of beads and a staff – He focused on dark moving shadows as he saw a huge black object coming down on him as the dancing legs, stopped.
He lay sprawled out in a wet, slobbering, mess. His eyes fixed on a particular point unnervingly serious and careful. The soft rhythmic panting set a chill down ones spine as everyone in the circle of friends stepped one pace closer.
Clip, Clap, Clip, Clap went the feet of the man in white and blue as he drew a key from his pocket whilst tip toeing to the door. Click, went the catch as everyone’s heads turned, then sighed. The creature, the beast did not move. Its eyes look restless, its body lay limp, a soft whimpering sound immerged from its chest and everyone in that white room panicked, for it to make noises was too much for some.
His dark red eyes flickered and the man in blue and white tottered to him nervously, bent over and leaned down. He clipped a metal lock to the steel chain tight around its neck. The chain had worn away at the chestnut fur and left the bald skin bleeding. The man in blue and white stand tall and turned to the rest of the men in long white coats in that clean white room. They place a name tag and a mirror by its feet, and a rope. ‘David’.