Competition: Nameless #17 - Brett McBean

Like a bad party trick, Siekan reached behind his right ear, cupped something in his hand, and with a clenched fist, held out his arm. He slowly opened his hand.

Leah sighed at the sight of the grey stone resting on his palm.

Why can't I be rid of that damned thing?

"This is the key," Siekan whispered. "On it, it foretold the coming of six, six who have the power, the understanding, the knowledge that we seek. You, sweet Leah, are one of the chosen."

Leah blinked up at the man. Darkly handsome, like a rock star from the past. "One of the chosen? Me?"

Siekan nodded.

"But I thought those shapes represented the six ages of man?"

"You've been misled." Siekan flipped the stone, pinching it between his right middle and index fingers.

Leah saw the six odd shapes, almost human but not quite. One of them, second from the left, was glowing. Perhaps it was simply her imagination, but to her bleary eyes the glowing figure looked like a woman with protracted arms, and she appeared to be sticking a large needle into her right arm.

"This is you," the otherworldly club boy said. "It's always been you."

Staring at the glowing figure on the smooth stone, Leah began to feel light-headed. Her eyes grew heavy, and yet she couldn't close them completely. She was transfixed on that luminous figure. Warmth spread from her right arm, into her chest. Like liquid fire, it both hurt and comforted her.

It was a familiar feeling.

She tried fighting against it, but she was weak, exhausted.

Soon she began to feel relaxed. All pain, all worry seeped away.

In the dark recesses of her mind, where intelligent thought and logical reasoning currently lay dormant, waiting for the light, she knew it was a trick, that she was being trapped by a master trapper.

But at present, she didn't care. All that mattered was the feeling of euphoria, of floating on a purple cloud made from pure ecstasy.

"We can offer you never ending pleasure. All you have to do is say yes, surrender to me and agree to help us."

"Help you?" Leah said, voice slurred. She didn't even want to blink, for fear of losing her connection to the glowing figure. She feared if she did, that flowing rush of adrenaline would cease and she would be plunged back to reality, back to the cold, hard streets.

"Help us," Siekan soothed. "Help us get into the hearts and minds of the people, people like you and that young deceased girl, people who are in pain and need help."

"Yes, help them," Leah muttered, the roaring fire of pleasure charging through her gut, spiralling down to her legs. Her whole body was now one giant ball of tingly hotness and she couldn't help but smile.

"You're one of the chosen," Siekan said, his grin going unnoticed by Leah. "It took us some time to find you, but we did. So now, all I ask of you, is to give in to us. Let us take you to the eighth age of humankind."

And just as Leah was about to answer "Yes; yes, I'll give in to you, just give me more of this pleasure," a voice, distant, shrill, yelled:

"No Leah! Don't let them fool you! Be strong, resist their temptations!"

Leah knew the owner of that voice.

As did Siekan, much to his chagrin.

It was the Trashwife.


(Brett McBean)