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Post by themirrorthief on Sept 4, 2016 10:58:53 GMT -5
He dreamed long into the night. He dreamed of cliffs, gray skies, strange dark rivers... and other things. she always came into his dreams...her long blond hair and tight black dress made his heart thump. but always she came with those shadowy figures...those damned shadows that haunted him. faces were there too. sometimes of people he recognized and sometimes they laughed or frowned.
On the hill was a shack of a sort. Inside he sat and stared out at the stars which seemed to mock him with their cold distance and bright but tiny light. He felt nervous and his back and legs ached with a weird stiffness that had no explanation other than sheer anxiety. He wanted to dream again. He smoked dope and listened to records...the chili peppers, better than Ezra, Jimi Hendrix, and Bowie. He even listened to the bowie records that sucked sometimes but not often. Burton Nash was by profession a private investigator. He presently kept a low profile due to some push back from a group of mafia hoods that he'd encountered. The event had led to an ugly incident. He had badly wounded one and beaten another senseless. Nash was not above violence. That was probably the only reason he was still alive.
He loved art, his collection was impressive. Things he bought at thrift stores that he personally liked. Maybe some were valuable. who knew, who cared. Such was life...or life on the edge of death. Just an old sweet song. Youtube was a curse, he was certain of it. then came the day when everything changed. the woman came and knocked on his door. It was her, real as life and maybe larger."My friends said you were a singer, I need someone to entertain at my party...would you be interested. The pay is nine hundred." Hell yeah he was interested, and the money didnt sound bad either, all he had to do was sing a few songs, something he was good at. Besides, he was sick and tired of looking at internet porn and Keeping up with the Kardasians.
After he did his act, he drank a bit to much. some women at the party had been impressed it seemed. they were eager to congratulate him. a few stroked his wrist and three slipped him their number. He wasnt interested in sex...he'd had to much in the past and it led to trouble f'd up trouble. He drank some more and asked the lovely host to drive him home. He had come over in a cab but he had a bad experience with that. the cab stunk and the dude driving was a foreigner...he was scary. Nash was afraid he might have to get physical with the chap.
She helped him to his door. He apologized and started crying because the money she gave him would keep him from starving for a few weeks. She said it was alright and she had another gig for him and she really hoped he would be available. He said that he would be certainly.
A month later he found himself in a very large mansion with all sorts of truly strange folks drifting in and out. They stared at him with large, hungry looking eyes. He sang several songs. He was stoned on grass and pills but he gave maybe his best performance ever. Then, when the show was over he drank like a fish. A large fish. She drove him home again. "all those people were vampires and witches," she said. He said nothing. she took his hand and led him to his door. "Let me in, I want to taste your sweet sensitive blood." He thought she was joking, but he wasnt certain. the sex was good that night, really good. afterwards he thought about her for days. she didnt call again until late one night.
Her voice was husky and aroused. "i love my husband more than you," she said. "but its your voice and the sex, I loved the sex. and your voice i cant resist, even when you arent singing. Nash wondered what she would think if she knew singing was only a part time gig, a hobby really. He was actually a detective and he was on a case. So what if he mixed business with pleasure. Pain was a part of his job more often than he'd like to think so what the hell was wrong with a little pure pleasure too? Nothing, not a damned thing.
He met her at a little trashy dive. The booze was good though. She showed a lot of leg, athletic, creamy thigh. Nash felt something down below the belt. He slammed down another shot. He thought about the time he'd gotten drunk and fallen off a friend's boat. He had basically drowned. His buddy had fished him out and brought him back. Burton Nash recalled the incident and it almost seemed like a pleasant thing, what happened. He laughed at his own foolishness and the girl smiled. Shelia had a great smile, nice teeth and gorgeous lips. He wanted her but didnt want to push it. He knew that maybe she really was a vampire. An undead, blood sucking, fiend that roamed the night and destroyed people. It was not by coincidence that Nash had a six inch long keen edged stake shoved deep in the pocket of his overcoat. He had a pistol in there too. Nash was one hell of a paranoid dude. The girl just smiled and stroked his leg. Her hand was incredibly soft.
As her hand slid further up his thigh. Nash though about his ex wife. He wondered about what had happened to her, he was wondering that a lot lately. She was probably dead, after all she had a bad drug habit. He hoped that she'd gotten clean but he doubted it. What sucked the most was that Nash himself had gotten her hooked. He had given the hard stuff up but she couldn't. Not enough will power, or maybe she just didn't give a damn. And who could blame her, being married to Nash and all.
Nash drifted into sleep. He saw graveyards, lots and lots of them. 'People are dying to get in those places' he chuckled to himself. He thought back to the time when he had run away from home at the tender age of thirteen. There was an abandoned farmhouse nearby. The house had burned down and nothing remained except the outhouse. He had hidden in that structure. At night he shivered from the cold as winter came on strong. Thankfully he had brought along a decent coat and some books. He sat there for days reading, occasionally sneaking out to pluck an apple or peach from the orchard a short distance away. Sometimes he cried to himself but he was glad to be free of his horribly abusive alcoholic father. It was a trade off he had to live with. Eventually he had returned home and found his father had gone to jail for three years for selling dope. Things got a lot better until he returned home. Nash left for good shortly after and joined the Marines. The war had made him a man...all the blood, the killing, and the reality of how twisted life could be forced him to grow up.
Nash woke and felt the heat from Shelia. They had sex and he promised to attend her next party. It was crazy but he went.
Party two was much weirder than the first. Nash sang a couple of songs then retired from the spotlight early. He did a lot of drinking and smoked some good weed. He went outside on the balcony to get some air when he realized that a couple had followed him out. 'its a lovely night' the well dressed man said.
The woman with him said nothing but Nash noted the weird gleam in her eye. 'yes its quite lovely out here...peaceful' he replied. Then he looked around just in time to see the two seriously invading his personal space. Their mouths were open wide and long fangs protruded from slavering gums. Vampires, and nasty ones at that.
Burton Nash had not lived this long without being aware of his surroundings. he quickly took the keen edged wooden knife from his pocket and plunged it deep into the male's chest. It gasped and fell to the group, pathetically attempting to pull the weapon from its chest. It actually succeeded but the damage was done.
The thing withered to dust and the female vampire hissed, 'we wanted to give you eternal life and you did...this?'
Nash shot her twice in the forehead with his .25. While its true you cant kill a vampire with a gunshot, it is also true they function incoherently for an hour or so after they have been shot in the brain. They need time to heal. In the mean time Nash leaped over the balcony and raced like the wind into the night. He did not want to think about what might happen when the crowd inside learned that their night's meal had fangs too.
Shelia called him and was nonchalant about the entire situation. 'hey, they were a couple of real a holes. Dont let it come between us darling.' Nash thought long and hard before going and meeting her at a Taco Bell. As they ate the expensive junk food Nash could not get over how radiant Shelia looked. 'you know that vampire chick, Valerie, said you were pretty hot despite the fact you shot her in the head and killed her husband.'
'I had to do it...he was gonna suck me dry.' 'Thats a vampire for you,' Shelia replied.
end part one :iconmeanus: Burton Nash, weird detective
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Post by themirrorthief on Dec 22, 2016 1:20:13 GMT -5
Despite his tendency towards depression, Nash was an ambitious sort of soul. He made enough money on a couple of big cases to finish his piano studies. His utmost desire was to become a concert pianist. He was almost there in fact. He practiced like a madman. He hadn't had a visit from Shelia in a long while. He dated a little, not much. His mind was on bigger things, like the dreams of the deep clear water surrounded by rocky ledges and monolithic structures. Was it the river of the dead? How could he know. He was so confused. Nash smoked cigarettes, drank coffee and watched the news. It was all lies but he watched anyway. Maybe he liked being lied to, it was hard to say for certain.
Nash went outside and looked at the stars. They were bright and inviting. The phone rang and he answered it. A very frightened voice on the other end asked it to come quickly that a murder had been committed and he should look things over before the police came and mussed everything up. "I understand, and I will be right there." Nash put the phone down and rushed out. His coat was thin and there was a chill in the night air but his wooden blade and pistol felt good in his pockets. The address was in a very bad part of town. The houses were old and decaying. He found himself at one of the worst and he knocked with more than a little anxiety. This kind of night gave him strange feelings.
A very beautiful girl opened the door. She had huge dark eyes and large boobs to go with the eyes. "Come inside quickly," she said.
He followed her and feasted his eyes on her clinging nightgown. She was not a very modest woman but that didn't really bother Nash all that much. What did bother him was the stench of death that hung in the dank air. The woman led him into the kitchen where a man lay in a pool of blood. He had been shot in the head. "I was sleeping upstairs when I heard a shot, I ran down and found my Uncle lying here dead. This is his house, I have no idea who might have done it. He had quite a few enemies because he gambled a lot and didn't always pay his debts."
"What was his name?"
"William Gainsboro, my name is Alice Gainsboro by the way...Mr Nash." "Why did you not want the police in here at once," Nash asked.
"Because I am afraid my ex husband, Philip Wray did the killing. They were playing cards when I went to bed. And they had beend drinking a lot." "Is your ex a violent man?" "He can be at times, especially when he is drunk. He had never killed anyone though. He has had a few fights."
"You have no choice but to call the police, if you or I interfere with the law it would be playing with fire and we would both get burned for sure." She frowned at Nash and pouted. "I hate you, get out!"
Nash lit a smoke and thought for a moment. Then he left. "Call the cops sweetie. If your ex did it there is no way you can protect him. If he didn't do it so much the better. Goodbye and no charge."
Nash stepped outside and noticed the air was much cooler than before. He shivered and walked quickly for his ride. He fired up the engine and sat there for a long while just working things out in his head. None of it made sense of course. He just wanted to stay clear of the cops. He felt bad for the dame, she seemed like a nice kid, just young and scared and maybe a little dense. He wondered about how could she would be in bed. Deep down inside he realized she was most likely a hooker. Her uncle was probably just some old dude who paid the bills and got what he wanted when she was done with the rest of her johns. He could be wrong but knew he wasn't. He used his cell to call the cops and moved his car a bit further down the street so he could watch the proceedings. They got there in less than ten minutes. Later the coroner arrived and the cop detectives.
Finally Nash got bored and drove towards home. He stopped at a smokey little bar and did some shots of boozed. He was feeling pretty stoned when who should walk in but Shelia. She sat down at the end of the bar but paid no attention to Nash. Less than five minutes later a fancy dressed dude came in and took the seat beside Shelia. The two of them were very friendly together. Nash felt a bit jealous but he wondered if the dude was a vampire. Stranger folk than that showed up in out of the way bars late at night. Nash was pretty drunk and he kept hitting it hard.
Nash had a slight fear of women. They got men in trouble, bad trouble. Women could get a guy killed. Like that guy back there in the run down old mansion. No doubt the dame had gotten his ticket punched for him one way or another. Nash put his head on the bar and passed out. Sometime later they woke him and ordered him out. He stumbled out and found his car. He spent the rest of the night there in a drunken stupor. He had never even spoken with Shelia and she had made an effort to speak to him. That was weird he thought for some reason.
The next day Nash read the papers. There was plenty about the murder. He read it over casually. He alread knew most of the details. The dead guy had been a partner in a showbar with a damen named Shelia West. Damn, it was his Shelia. He wonderd at the co-incidence of her being in the same hood as the murder. It wasn't the kind of neighborhood he might have expected her to visit very often if ever. Shelia was about money for real. Now he was curious about the man who showed up at the bar with Shelia? His head started to hurt again and he had a beer. Maybe the date was that Philip Wray cat? Maybe he should tell the cops some of his meandering thoughts. No, he would sit on it, at least for the time being. He decided to pay anothe visit to Alice Gainsboro. He would wait until tomorrow, let her de stress a bit. Maybe he might be able to help her somehow.
Nash took a long nap and he woke to someone beating like hell on his door. He answered and to his surprise Shelia walked in looking hotter than ever. "I am so horny Nash, can you help a girl out?"
Nash was stunned but he made her a drink and dashed to shower so he would smell sweet for the big event that was about to happen. And it definitely turned into a big event. Later they lay side by side and Alice hummed some tune while Nash smoked. Her body was near perfect. He felt himself become aroused again but he held back. "I saw you last night at a bar," Shelia said sleepily. "That's when I knew I had to have you again. I think about you a lot. It bothers me that you are under my skin."
"I'm just an ordinary Joe Shelia. I saw you also. Who was your friend, I didn't recognize him."
"Just a friend. His name is Philip Wray. He just went through a nasty divorce and needed someone to talk to."
"I'm thinking you went somewhere with him and had sex."
"Damn Burton, you can read my mind. He left me unsatisfied. Seeing you in that bar raised my expectations a bit to high I suppose."
"Thanks," Shelia really knew how to stroke a guy. He figured that she could dump a fellow like a bag of crap just as smoothly. Maybe even make him like it.
"This is partly business Burton dear, I have a job for you I'm afraid. The money will be very good I dare say. I want you to kill someone for me...a girl named Alice Gainsboro." Nash tried not to show his shock. This was not something he had counted on. He got up and went into the next room where his piano waited. He sat down and began to play a little Beethoven. Moments later he caught a glimpse of Shelia pouring herself another drink. She sat beside him and watched him play. Her scent made him half swoon but his fingers went on expertly. His window had been opened by Shelia who was very hot natured. Outside the rain began to fall. It was a mistly, sexy kind of rain. He kept playing and playing and playing. He wanted to never stop. He did not want to re-enter the real world. It was just to haunted and screwed up. He hated his life and thought about suicide. No, that was crazy. He would deal with it all and hope for better days ahead.
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Post by themirrorthief on Jul 24, 2017 23:49:38 GMT -5
would anyone care for a little more of this I kinda like the character??
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Post by themirrorthief on Mar 30, 2019 17:25:18 GMT -5
Burton Nash had resolved everything in his own mind. He would move out of the house and leave his daughter and her asshole guy friend. Plus he had his own women to worry about, lots of them...wow, so true. Nash had taken a job working with very disturbed people. Nash thought he would just show up totally stoned and just sort of be a shadow or
whatever. Then he crazy lady came at him with a butcher knife. She scored a pretty deep cut on his finger but Nash returned the favor by kicking her viciously in the abdomen. She went down, the knife fell from one hand and a lovely large bag of primo chronic fell from her hand. Nash picked the reefer up and ran for his car. Then he called his boss and said he had had a severe panic attack and had to leave work for a couple or three hours.
She was cool about it so he took off and got super high. He drank some beers too which was kinda unusual, he normally drank a damn shitload of the stuff real low grade like Old Milwaukes best...man. Nash was skeptical about lots of stuff. He didnt trust people easily. His friends all said his friends were weird. Very true, so very. Women kinda liked Nash, he looked ok for a guy nearly fifty. He worked out and drank, watched lots of porn. He also read the bible a lot...yeah I know. He sometimes sat outside at night and watched girls go in the Quick Shop across the street. Lots of women lived in the area and they mostly gave Nash long glances. Babes like bad boys boy was Nash a bad boy. A real dick to be honest. He carried a small four shot revolver. He called it Shelia
He also carried knives and other stuff. He had been a boy scout. He had even worked for them as a young guy but got fired for getting busy with a fourteen year old girl. Nash regretted it but the pussy was awfully sweet. Jesus, this is turning into a disgusting tale. Speaking of tail, Nash got a job tailing this really super cute lady. She might have been a russian spy, or a porn actress or even a waitress or God knows what. Nash, got tired of tailing her to places like wal mart, and the drugstore, and freaking Taco Bell. He had decided to take a chance and hang out with her...it could be done!!
One day at the mall he just walked right up to her and asked for a light. She gave him one and he gave his most charming smile. Two young punks standing nearby were soaking in the sight of her heavy, swaying boobs and slender, athletic looking axe. Her long blonde locks reflected the sun in a super cool way. He just blurted out that he had been watching her and that she was pretty as hell. The direct approach didnt always work but it was direct. LIfe is like a carnival ride , it goes real fast and makes you dizzy. {no shit}
Nash eventually got into her bed. He was so talented at shit like that. It was something about his nearly toothless grin and lean hard body that gave him entrance to the club.
He woke up a few hours later and realized the blonde was dead, dead drunk that is. Her
sexy body made him hot but he maintained control. He all about control, he just didnt have much.
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Post by themirrorthief on Jul 13, 2019 0:23:09 GMT -5
the sign said THE DARK ROOM WHERE LOVE DIED...kinda poetic Nash decided. He checked both his pistols and knocked softly. A very pretty but rather drugged out girl answered. "Where is he,? Nash enquired. "You better get the hell out of here cause he is gonna beat your ass...the girl said with real anxiety in her voice. But it was to late, dude walked into the room and his face grew dark the moment he spotted Nash.
"Your ass is mine! dude said and came toward Nash.
Nash drew both his automatics and started blazing away. The man went down and blood started flowing. "Get back, Nash yelled at the girl" Nash went over and pumped a couple more into the sorry asshole. Then he walked quickly away and reached his car in a matter of minutes.
He revved up the motor and sped away. Nash realized he might have to do hard time but he didn't stop driving until he reached Mexico. He rented a little cottage by the gulf and proceeded to drink himself stupid...day after day.
The things love get us into he mused. He smoked lots of herb too. He didn't regret the killing...it felt good. it was all the girls fault of course
Love was a messed up thing but God made it way, not Nash or Trump...
Nash thought about lots of stuff while he was high and drunk. He wondered if Nelson Mandela had gay sex in prison. He probably did.
Nash grew into a man there in Mexico. He made out with Mexican prostitutes and drank tequila by the gallon. Sometimes he practiced with his two pistols. It was just something he did.
He also bought a pump shotgun cheap from a gang dude. In Nash's opinion it paid to be well armed if you liked pussy, that was just the way it was.
Sometimes he dreamed about stuff, like snakes and Indians and clear running streams. It could be a beautiful or scary thing. He even prayed.
Nash didn't go to church cause there was only one bible and a thousand churches...that didn't make a damned bit of sense. He did believe in God because he existed...Nash existed that is...and that's the only proof a man needs. He exists so God does too. That's reality.
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Post by themirrorthief on Jul 13, 2019 1:20:41 GMT -5
man, that was heavy...reality sucks so welcome aboard mates
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Post by themirrorthief on Aug 7, 2019 22:20:51 GMT -5
Nash never doubted himself, even when he wandered the streets stoned or drunk. Reality was to much for him, love always so far in the distance. He ate only at places open late at night. He drank lots of coffee. He was lucky that he had money. He had gotten it through his divorce because he ex wife inherited quite a chunk. It made him feel dirty though, the way he had gained his wealth.
Women worried him, he wanted them but he knew they were to damned possessive, especially vampire women. Besides he often thought there were no other kind. Guns were his friends, he carried two of them and his luck had helped him survive a number of shootouts with drug dealers, killers, and mafia hitmen. Nash had very few friends. His dog ran away. he seldom petted the poor creature. Dog food was expensive, even for a man with money. Then Amanda found him that day in the park. She was damned intelligent and she seemed to truly enjoy his guitar playing. His voice was a bit rough from all the cigarettes but eh managed fairly well. She took him home to her place and helped him with a bath. The water was hot and the soap smelled good and the love making was heaven sent. He almost felt like a regular human again...almost.
All day on the morrow, she called him. he only answered once or twice on a whim. he wanted to read her one of his new poems. Of course they were terrible but she seemed charmed by them. Despite his better intentions he called on her again and again. When she became pregnant with his child he was naturally mystified as hell. The baby was a girl and he was charmed by her. A few days later he left for Europe. Happiness was unbearable of course. it made him physically sick and he was certain he would die should he not escape. he wandered deep in the woods and slept with the trees. There he found a different kind of beauty that was both frightening and soothing at the same time. Impossible.
Then that late evening he found himself stalked by a huge black wolf. He fired shots into the air but the creature only glared at him with eyes large and yellow. Nash tried walking away but it always followed. To late nash realized it was driving him towards something, something full of mystery, mysticism, and mists. At last Nash found himself trudging towards an old castle. it wasn't real, it couldn't be but sometimes the fantastic can be even more real than reality. If the mind, healthy or sick, says it is so, it is so. However when he entered those ghostly grounds, nothing in his psyche could have prepared him for the girl. She stood there with something like a smile on her fine lips. He gown appeared wet with the recent rain and it clung to her body, her sweet rounded body. nash coughed and fainted. He spat blood and his head hurt.
nash woke in a large bed...and she was there. She touched him lightly and his brain cleared. He could faintly smell the huge wolf but he was not afraid. His pistols lay nearby but he took very little notice. He was obviously inside the castle and it was real. He had been sick, and who knows for how long. He still felt incredibly weak. His limbs seemed stiff and unwieldly. nash tried to speak but it was only a guttural croak that came from his throat. He felt tears forming in his eyes but she raised his head and touched his lips to a cup. He drank and it was very good, a fine wine that he had never tasted before. "I feel like we have known each other forever," she whispered. her voice was like music, only more melodic and gentle. he soft blonde hair fell over his face and she held him like a child. Nash realized he would never be free until he killed her and stood by the grave until the wind covered it in leaves. This knowledge did not comfort him but at least he knew escape was possible. Only he had to manufacture the destination the escape would carry him. This was a problem that haunted him, even during their intense sessions of violent love making and whispered adorations.
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Post by Char-Vell on Aug 8, 2019 7:11:15 GMT -5
Nash GAINED money through his divorce? This is truly weird fiction!
Good stuff though, keep it up.
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Post by themirrorthief on Aug 8, 2019 16:31:14 GMT -5
no greater compliment than "truly weird"
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