The Chastity Of Selina

Epiphanies.

They’re a wonderful thing. That blissful sense of realisation that sweeps across us bringing much needed clarity; a bright light that breaks through the darkness which has kept us static for so long.

They can happen often and occur when we least expect it, whether it be while walking the dog , having a shower or just commuting to work.

My particular epiphany happened to occur at quite an awkward moment; it was whilst on my knees. As much as I would like to say I was praying for some divine intervention the reality was quite different.

Although I may have mumbled ‘God just hurry up’ , it was not directed at some omnipotent higher power but instead to the guy who had spent the good part of ten minutes happily, albeit disappointingly, thrusting into my mouth.

He had positioned ourselves in front of a full length mirror and was engaged in some exaggerated hip swivelling punctuated by husky moans of ‘yeh’ that made me wonder if he had asthma.

You want me to massage your balls or just pass you your inhaler

It was a cheeky curiosity that made me look in the mirror. This was not the first time I had indulged in some reflective randiness and I was used to seeing who stared back.

It was Her….Lina. It was always Her. That lustful thirst of hers never satisfied.

Yet strangely on this occasion when I looked it wasn’t her… it was me; and I didn’t like it, not one single bit.

I immediately pushed the guy away releasing his saliva coated cock from my mouth and stood up.

“What the fuck!” he exclaimed.

“Yeh. We’re done. I’m going home” I replied

“But I’m not finished”

I walked towards the door and turned towards him “Ain’t my problem. Have a wank and stop moaning”.

I left to the sounds of him calling me a bitch, whore and a slut. Names I’d been called so many times they hardly registered anymore.

Now I would love to say this is the end of the story. Conclude this final, yet brief confession with the words “And Selina realised the error of her ways and became a Nun. She was last seen living on a mountain in Switzerland having probably saved some kids from Nazis.”

Yet that’s not how it ends. Far from it. My brain, clearly harbouring some ambition to be a Reality TV host chose my journey home to show me my ‘Best Bits’.

A carefully edited compilation of every quickie, tug and suck before returning to the studio for comment. My only reply was ‘No that was Lina’. A preposterous excuse that was starting to wear thin.

By the time I got home my brain had changed from TV Host to Annoying Friend Who Wants To Tell You Everything You Did On A Drunken Night.

As I drifted in and out of conscious they were there perched on the edge of my bed.

And then there was time you did this.

When I woke in the morning with a heavy head it followed me round my flat

And what about when you….

I was due to pop round to my friend’s Pru house for coffee. Whilst I contemplated cancelling I thought perhaps listening to her drone on about the renovations she had just completed in her house would prevent my brain from pulling out the bell of shame.

Blowjobs – SHAME!

Handjobs – SHAME!

Quickies up against the side of the chip shop – SHAME!

Whatever it was you were doing at that club – SHAME!

With my head full of painful fog, as if all my hangovers had returned for a repeat performance, I wearily made my way round to Pru’s house.

I must have not been looking my best when I arrived because the moment she saw me she asked “Are you okay?”

I gave the automatic response of saying I was fine. It was my default setting like my very own Out of Office response.

I’m sorry Selina is not available right now she’s presently in turmoil as the fabric of her fragile life unravels but she wants you to know she’s doing just fine. Please leave a message after the primal scream.

Normally, my friends would just accept my short declaration that I was fine and we would get on with our day. I am certain they didn’t believe it for a second and would try and tease it out of me by sporadically asking me again but my wall was up and standing firm.

However, this time, it was different. As I gave my stock answer of ‘I’m fine’ I made eye contact with Pru, whose expression was one of sympathy tinged with a school mistress ‘I ain’t falling for that bullshit anymore’ look.

Did she know? Was seeing her new duck egg bathroom a ruse for some intervention?When I walked in would all my ex-lovers be sat there ready to pass judgement? Is that why she got an extension done?

Whatever the reason as I held Pru’s gaze the wall came tumbling down and I cried. A lot.

While Pru and I are best friends she is also the one I have clashed with the most. We are two totally different people. She is organised, precise and graceful. It had been a regular topic of discussion as to how someone as chaotic as I could form an ever lasting friendship with her. I guess we just balance out the universe.

She was also a qualified psychiatrist and despite her best efforts to avoid doing it we often found ourselves being psychoanalysed.

“Selina do you think your desire for another gin is to mask some deep rooted issue stemming from your childhood’

“Pru you always do this . It’s your round. Get the fucking drinks in”

However, for once, I was glad I knew a psychiatrist. As I embarked on telling her my sordid tale I was unsure whether I was speaking with Pru the Psychiatrist or Pru the Friend but she listened. Occasionally she would steer the conversation with an odd question and I did see her write stuff down, although unsure what it said.

Buy more paint for the hallway

Get a new friend

I told her everything; about my over bearing compulsion I had to engage in sexual activity, how it made me feel and, of course, about Lina. It felt weird to be saying this all out loud and even as I heard myself talk my brain chimed in with ‘Oh you are fucking crazy’.

To her credit Pru was thankfully not judgemental. She never once interrupted me with a ‘what the fuck!’. She didn’t suddenly wrestle me to the ground and shove a crucifix in my face chanting ‘The Lord beseech you leave this girl’.

When I finally finished, my eyes red from crying and my voice hoarse, Pru calmly wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

“I’m going to suggest a colleague of mine sees you” she said

“What for” I replied

“I think you are bipolar” she said, rather matter-of-factly.

“Well I’m bisexual so it makes sense. I am learning a new language to get the full set” I replied with a smile, which quickly disappeared when met with Pru’s stern expression.

“This is serious Sel. I believe you also have what is known as Hypersexuality”

“Oooh sounds like a superpower” I joked but stopped from exploring the possibility I may be one of the X-Men by a look from Pru.

“But why do I have to see someone else? Why can’t you help me?”

Having asked the question I then paid no attention to the answer, preoccupied with the revelation I had some weird sexual compulsion.

Anyhow Pru’s reasoning was ‘something something I wouldn’t take it seriously something something too close something something conflict of interest something something’

However, I persisted “Pru I’m not going to talk to a stranger. I will listen to you. I promise. Just help me. Please. Tell me what to do”

She cocked her head to one side sympathetically “Well firstly you should stop seeing that side of you….this Lina… as a completely different person.”

“So setting up a Twitter account for her was a bad idea?”

Something something dissociative

“And you need to stop engaging in any sexual activity”

“Done” I replied boldly without much thought “Easy peasy. The virtuous life of a virgin from here on in for me.”

“And that goes for masturbation too”

“Fuck off Pru!”

“See! This is why you need to see my colleague” she exclaimed.

“I’d tell him to fuck off as well. What about a little masturbation?”

“Sel!”

“No toys. Just fingers. A little play”

“Sel!”

“A quick rub? No sexy thoughts I’ll just rely on friction”

“SELINA!! I think we are getting a little distracted by discussing masturbation”

“You were the one who brought it up. It does mean I’ll have to cancel my Catwoman comics subscription now…..”

Something something you’re definitely seeing my colleague.

When I left Pru’s house (after an extended farewell to check we were still friends) I felt good. A weight had certainly been lifted. The dark fog that had circled in my mind had cleared. I had purpose, a new start and for the first time ever I felt I was in control.

My mood was a complete juxtaposition to how I begun the morning. I put my earphones in and scrolled through my phone to play some music.

That morning the music was simply a tool to drown out the storm that raged in my mind, but now it was a compliment to my mood. A soundtrack to celebrate a new start. I scrolled through the playlists and settled on some random Pop. I laid my head back on the seat of the train and closed my eyes as Don’t You (Forget About Me) played.

In the days that followed life was good. I woke each morning feeling elated and that stayed with me throughout the day. Pru still checked in on me, a psychological halfway house before I could meet with her colleague.

Something something Bipolar something something manic something something moods

I’d even started to question if I needed to see her colleague at all and went about my life as if the events that had culminated in me sobbing in a heap in my friend’s newly installed kitchen were very much a thing of the past.

I had made a few changes to my lifestyle. I no longer went out drinking every day after work and when I went out with my besties I found myself leaving early. Pru would always be the first to leave and often we just wave her off before declaring this is where the real fun can begin. But I found myself getting up with her and announcing that I may have an early night.

Oddly, it was this behaviour that prompted my friend Mel to ask me if I was okay. Clearly, my vacant expression, the tired look and disappearing off with random strangers had not previously been a cause of concern for her.

I even begun to not go out every weekend and stayed in to have what I declared to be ‘Me Time’ although absent the masturbation which I continued to argue with Pru is something I should be doing.

Then one Friday night I was sat alone in my flat, half watching Netflix and half congratulating myself with solving my mental health issues with zero therapy and medication when I suddenly received an unexpected visit. A visit from a most unwelcome guest who I had assumed had permanently gone.

Let’s Go Out And Play!

Lina’s arrival surprised me. Normally she appeared accompanied by a cacophony of noise as if she was emerging from the very bowels of hell riding a chariot. There was little that was subtle about her but I had been too wrapped up in premature self congratulations to hear her triumphant return.

I’m horny. Let’s find someone

I tried to ignore her but she persisted. Her demands would cut through the sound of the TV I turned up to try and drown her out.

Her piercing demands echoed around in my head bringing with it the darkness that Lina bathed in. I knew what she wanted and I knew she would not stop until she got it.

Let’s go find someone. You’ll feel better.

I felt deflated. The sound of her in my head a depressing reminder that I couldn’t win. She’d always be there.

This is how it was. How it’s always been. Lina holding my head hostage until she got what she desired. Despite my new beginnings I knew I did not have the strength to defeat her and contemplated relenting, after all what harm could be caused by just allowing her to have that one final carnal feast.

I didn’t even really have to move, one text and I could have the appropriate suitor for Lina at my door. I could hear her purr in anticipation as she encouraged me to scroll through my phone.

She salivated like someone choosing their ideal takeaway;

Not that one – we want it dirty

No we had an Indian the other week

How about a mixed starter for variety?

As I delayed giving Lina what she wanted a glimmer of an idea shone meekly through the darkness that swirled inside my head. Maybe I could beat her? But I needed confirmation it would work.

I stopped scrolling through my contacts and pressed call. But it was not to summons a horny guy who would satisfy Lina, instead it was to speak to someone who Lina absolutely despised.

“Hey Pru… sorry to trouble you. Do you have a moment”

“A little busy Sel. It’s our anniversary and we are having a get together”

“Oh sorry to disturb but ….. Wait ….. you’re having a party and I wasn’t invited?”

Something something you slept with my brother-in-law something something his wife is there

“Anyway” I continued “I’m gonna masturbate. Just checking that’s cool. Gotta go. Bye. Oh…. Happy Anniversary”

I tossed the phone and laid back on the sofa and let my hand slide down my body, my fingers slipping inside my panties. I let out an instinctive moan as my finger tips touched my clit, embracing it like I was welcoming back an old friend.

I closed my eyes and let my fingers explore between my legs with the same enthusiasm as a dog let off a leash on an open field.

Throughout my self exploration I could feel Lina, on top of me, her nails dug deep into my breasts leaning over and offering alternatives to what could currently be inside me other than my fingers.

Whenever I heard her voice demanding to be fed I dove my fingers deeper inside.

Satisfy Me

I moved my other hand between my legs and began furiously rubbing my clit whilst my other disappeared deep inside me.

Not like this. Let’s do it properly.

I closed my eyes tight and tried to block out Lina but even the damp slapping of my fingers working away between my legs seemed to be on her side, calling out her lusty demand.

Let’s Fuck. Let’s Fuck. Let’s Fuck.

I could feel my orgasm begin to build up. It would not be a climax to a wonderful fantasy, I had resolved this would be the conclusion to a nightmare. As my body begun to shudder this was to be my final act of defiance against Lina. She was not getting what she wants. Not tonight. Not ever.

The increase of my arousal acted as a shield to Lina’s onslaught. I was in a place that I rarely visited, a pleasure palace where only I can be. Lina dug her nails deeper into my breasts, desperately trying to pull me out of this horny haven and into her domain of depravity. But with every pinch of my erect nipple I countered by pushing my fingers deeper inside me. I writhed on the sofa as this horny tug of war continued.

With a few final wet advances of my finger I let out a roar…. a huge Fuck You Lina shriek… I shook as I absorbed this defiant orgasm, sending electric pulses throughout my body to finally cleanse me of all things Lina.

I laid still on the sofa, wet, exhausted, breathing deeply. It was silent. Blissful silence. No darkness invaded my mind. It was over. Lina was gone. She was finally gone.

So we’re going out to fuck now?

Bollocks! Plan B – offer Lina out for a fight in a junk yard.

The intensity of my orgasm had left me drained. I rolled wearily off the sofa And precariously padded to the bedroom flopping face first onto the bed.

Lina was there, perched on the edge still repeating over and over her demands. But I was too tired to listen.

Something Something hard from behind

Rather than leaving me susceptible to her insistence my exhaustion gave me the unexpected power to ignore her. As I closed my eyes I resolved I would ignore her tomorrow, and the day after and the day after that. The only flaw in my plan was whether I would have to continuously masturbate myself into oblivion each time. That might get awkward.

I am interested about switching energy supplier but can you just wait there while I go aggressively masturbate otherwise this could end up with us having reckless sex.

Before I welcomed the solitude of sleep my brain offered a solution. Normally it was my worst enemy but feeling sorry for me it offered one final moment of clarity, a simple declaration that it had always been an ally. My mind presented to me the conclusion to the epiphany that had begun on my knees sucking some undeserved penis.

You are Lina

That night when I had looked in the mirror I was reminded that I was Lina. But I hadn’t fully appreciated the final part, the bit where I released the cock from my mouth, stood up and walked away. I chose to do that.

I chose.

It was the absent conclusion that had been shrouded in shame for so long but now rose shining brightly in my mind.

I am You.

Lina’s voice drifted away as my eyes became heavy. In the silence that remained lingered a simple realisation. I don’t have to listen to her anymore.

I am Selina………And I am in control.

************

EXT. A BAR IN LONDON – NIGHT

It is raining. The glow of the bar sign reflects off a puddle in the road which is disturbed when a black cab drives past. We see two people run towards the entrance of the bar , their long coats pulled over their heads to shield them from the rain. As they open the door to bar the low hum of the patrons inside can be briefly heard.

INT. BAR – NIGHT

We move in between the people standing in the bar. It is busy. The majority are dressed in business attire indicating they have just left work for a drink. There is no music just the consistent din of chatter and laughter.

We reach the corner of the bar where we find SELINA , 29 , blonde, cockney, sitting on a stool. She is smartly dressed, her hair is slightly wet indicating that she has not long been there. Her nylon legs are crossed, her heels tapping against the leg of the stool. She sips on a gin and tonic as she studies her phone, smirking as if she had just tweeted something non-sensical for attention.

Her attention is drawn to RANDOM GUY, mid twenties , staggeringly attractive who is stood next to her waiting to be served. They make eye contact and she smiles at him.

RANDOM GUY

What do you have to do to get served here?

SELINA

Showing them your tits helps I find

Random Guy smiles a handsome smile

RANDOM GUY

I might go somewhere that’s a little easier to get served. Don’t suppose you want to join me?

Selina smiles and stares into the ridiculously handsome eyes of Random Guy. She delays her answer.

SELINA

Nah. Thank you but I am with someone. Will you excuse me?

We watch as Selina stands up, swigs down the remainder of her drink and we follow her as she walks towards the Ladies Toilet.

INT. BAR – LADIES TOILETSNIGHT

We see Selina standing at the sinks applying lipstick in the mirror. Another woman finishes washing her hands before leaving the toilet talking loudly with her friend. Selina is alone.

She looks down as she puts her lipstick back in her handbag. She looks back up into the mirror and stares cheekily at her reflection.

SELINA

You shut the fuck up!

~Fin~

Super Sentient Sex Dolls From Saturn : Part Six

So we arrive at Part Six having completed Part One , Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five. Say what you’re like about this series but at least we are doing this in order.

Quick recap – I have seamlessly and without any fundamental plot holes whatsoever been able to legitimately establish the existence of the Sentient Sex Dolls, put them on Saturn and convincingly return them to Earth.

Anyone still paying attention to this will recall that Gina may not have been the only sex doll who returned from Saturn. So this part introduces the remaining sex dolls – the Version Deltas (or VDs for short).

There are four VDs left and we are introduced to them outside a biker’s bar on the outskirts of town. Because whatever town you live in there is always a convenient bar filled with bikers.

Now as you will have immediately appreciated from reading the previous five parts I do extensive research to ensure authenticity.

So we have four naked sentient sex dolls walking into a seedy out of town bar frequented by bikers. As they walk in the bar goes silent. Two bikers playing chess look up. Another biker sitting by the fireplace reading Voltaire takes of his glasses and looks towards the entrance. A group of bikers practicing the cha cha slide turn off the music and study the new arrivals.

One of the bikers approach the quartet of sentient sex dolls “Well well well. What do we have here?” he asks “Some pretty ladies just walking into our bar. And as naked as the day they were born. You know what this means guys?”

The bar erupts with whooping and cheering, although some choose to politely clap. The biker continues “That’s right! We have enough people to make up our Twister Tournament”

As further cheers erupt it is made clear that these sentient sex dolls are not in the mood to play Twister. Indeed, to fully emphasise their hatred of any party board games one grabs the wrist of the biker and twists it hard. He screams out in agony and another biker rushes over;

“Hey stop that. He’s our best hope for the Inter-Biker Table Tennis tournament later this week”

The sentient sex doll looks at him and says “I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle”

“Really?” Says the Biker “Cos I am a little overweight and my clothes would just hang off you. No you need to be taking Slim’s clothes over there”

The Sentient Sex Doll walks over to Slim and snaps his neck and begins to remove his clothes.

“Wait!” says the Biker “He may be slim but he has big feet. His boots won’t fit you. What are you? Size 5? Size 6?. You need Dainty Pete’s boots.”

Snap

“Looking good now we need to accessorise. Gruff Stu’s belt would really accentuate those hips”

Snap

“Now I am thinking a leather jacket to really finish this look off. Mad Matt has the best”

Snap

“Beautiful. The blood splatter really does emphasise that glowing eye. When I saw you walk into this bar I saw vulnerability. But now I see you blossom into the woman I know you can be…”

Snap

In his dying breath the biker hands his keys to the sentient sex doll. “Be careful the throttle sticks a little”

As we watch the now fully clothed sentient sex dolls ride off on motorcycles we cut back to the strange laboratory as unnamed menacing man is given an update by generic underling.

“Sir four of them are on the move”

The menacing man replies “Good. They will come here. That’s in their programming.” He pauses menacingly, the silence confirming how menacing he is “But there needs to be all five. Find me the other one”

Before we leave this part a quick check in with Spencer. Realising he will struggle to keep Gina hidden from his Mother he decides to introduce her as a Foreign Exchange Student.

So Spencer’s mother unknowingly meets the sex doll that her late husband was screwing just before he died.

Spencer’s Mother: Very pleased to meet you Gina

Gina: You never liked to swallow

Spencer’s Mother: Excuse me?

Spencer: Nothing . She’s French

Spencer quickly ushers Gina upstairs and begins to lecture her on not mentioning having sex with his Dad when he is interrupted by Paul calling him. Paul is in an agitated state.

Paul: Spencer I’ve been watching the videos of Gina with your Dad.

Spencer: That’s gross. What is wrong with you?

Paul: You need to see something

Spencer: Paul I’m not interested in watching my Dad have sex with a sex doll

Paul: No you don’t understand. He didn’t die coz of the crash. He was already dead.

Spencer: What? How?

Paul: It was Gina. Gina killed him

Spencer turns to look at Gina who is sitting on the bed. Her eye glowing a deep red.

To be continued

Super Sentient Sex Dolls From Saturn : Part Three

Part Two concluded with a sentient sex doll lowering herself to her knees in front of Spencer. She begins to unbuckle his trousers as she looks up at him.

Now Spencer is more than happy for all of this to happen. I get the more romantic of you are thinking hang on a moment isn’t he pining for his one true love, Becky. Surely, his love would mean he’d resist getting a blowjob from a strange naked woman that randomly turned up in his garage.

Well, look, if it makes it easier Spencer was only going to go upstairs and masturbate furiously to Becky’s Insta pics sooooo, you know.

Anyway, as the sentient sex doll is unfurling Spencer’s penis she looks up at him and says ‘I forgive you…..Matt’.

Spencer recoils and stutters ‘Why did you say that name?’ The Sex Doll cocks her head to one side (NB – this is a good cinematic trick because the cocking of the head clearly indicates that they are either an android, serial killer or if it’s an animated movie – a dog)

“Are you not Matt?” she asks.

“No! I’m Spencer….Matt was my Dad”

That’s right. Spencer is the son of Matt who you will recall from Part One was the horny astronaut who ended up crashing into the space station because he was preoccupied with the sex doll.

“Why did you say that name?” Spencer asks again. By now his erection is all but gone. Your lover erotically muttering the name of a dead relative would do that.

“Because you are Matt”

“No Matt was the name of my Father”

“He used to like me calling him Daddy as well”

A beam of red light shoots from her eye and scans Matt up and down. Cocking her head to one side (Android thinking pose) she says “But my DNA scanner says you are Matt…Perhaps my systems were damaged in the crash. I need to perform a full system scan”

And with that she shuts down. The glow in her eye disappears and she remains their motionless. Spencer circles her, curious as to what she actually is and as he admires her naked body he’s probably a little horny as well.

We follow Spencer as he attempts to get the sex doll from the garage to his bedroom whilst avoiding being caught by his Mother, whom has chosen that very moment to walk from room to room doing various chores. After much innuendo and near misses he reaches his room and places the sex doll on the bed.

Spencer checks out the sex doll once again and he’s definitely tempted but any possibility of anything happening is interrupted by the sound of stones being thrown at the window. He looks out and sees his best friend Paul, a nerd who likes to go by the online name of Havoc-P.

Spencer leans out the window and says “Dude, why you throwing stones at my window? Just FaceTime me like everyone else”

Paul replies “I tried you weren’t answering. And it’s games night – thought we could play UNO Extreme” (NB – nerds apparently like to play board games or something so this simple dialogue establishes that Spencer and Paul and nerdish.)

Spencer declines which makes Paul suspicious. I mean who could say no to an extreme version of UNO, right nerds? As Spencer is trying to get Paul to go away the sex doll’s red light shines, illuminating the room.

“What’s that?” asks Paul. Spencer says it’s nothing but Paul isn’t having any of it and after a failed attempt to climb up to the bedroom, he knocks on the front door and is let in by Spencer’s mum.

“Woaaa! Is that a sex doll??” Paul exclaims “I’m glad you’ve moved on from trying to get Becky to go out with you and accepted that this is your best opportunity of having sex.”

Paul leans in closer to examine the sex doll “This is some top quality tech. Must be one of those Japanese models. It’s so realistic. Have you tried it out?”

“No! I’m not sure what it…she…is. I think she might be from space or something. She knew my Dad”

“Your dad? The one who was an astronaut but died in a tragic space accident dead dad? What you think she might be an alien or maybe a cyborg?…. Hang on, what’s this?”

Paul notices a symbol on the inside of her wrist. “I’ve seen this before, amongst some tech my Dad has in the basement”

It’s decided they would take the sex doll to Paul’s house to investigate further. We have a scene of both Spencer with the assistance of Paul getting the motionless sex doll down the stairs while his mum is once again choosing to wander round every room they have to pass doing chores. Much hilarity ensues.

Finally they manage to get the sex doll out the house and hoist her over a bicycle and we leave them en route to Paul’s house as we revisit the crash site. There we see a mean looking man in a black suit and tie speaking into a radio.

“It’s definitely them. They’ve all gone. We may have a problem.”

They? There’s more than one? And why would a group of specially designed sex dolls be a problem? And where are they?

Stay tuned for Part 4 when I may or may not address any of that.

Super Sentient Sex Dolls From Saturn – Part One

You ready for another epic Movie Pitch? Then let’s do it. (By the way that was a rhetorical question because I am doing this whether you want to or not).

So with thrill and excitement still buzzing in your beautiful mind, settle down as the second movie from OfSelina begins.

Now we have a lot to cover in the opening such as how or indeed why are there sex dolls on Saturn. No doubt there will be much chuntering in the cinema about whether these sex dolls are super and sentient or if they are super sentient? And if the latter what does that even mean? Well, who knows and by the end of this … who cares?

So to cram a shed load of back story into a very short period of time we adopt a time honoured Cinematic ploy of Flashback and Montage….

First the flashback. The movie opens with a wide shot of space because, after all, this is a science fiction movie and nothing says Sci-Fi like stars and shit.

‘International Space Station – Sometime Ago’

We meet an unnamed generic astronaut moving through the space station looking for ‘Steve’. A cool continuous shot of him just floating around asking anyone he meets if they have seen Steve. They all shake their heads with one asking ‘Who is Steve?’

Eventually we are introduced to the mysterious Steve who is in the toliet….. masturbating wildly.

(NB Long time sufferers who follow me and have read CONFESSIONS will know that Steve is the name of my ex. I want to make it clear for legal reasons that I am not implying in any subtle way that he is and always will be a wanker. Clear? Cool, back to the story.)

In his haste to masturbate Steve has forgotten to lock the door and unnamed generic astronaut opens it just at the moment of ejaculation causing Steve to fall forward and the consequence of his fervent wrist action flies out. Because there is no gravity we see his jizz escape through the door and it travels the same route that unnamed spaceman had taken. This journey of Steve’s Semen will be one continuous shot as people duck out of the way to avoid the cum’s commute in zero gravity.

This piece of steadicam sauciness will last precisely one second longer than the continuous shot from Goodfellas – just for the bantz. It’ll be cool if in years to come, movie scholars will argue whether Goodfellas or Sentient Sex Dolls is the greatest continuous shot in cinematic history. They will eventually settle on Sentient Sex Dolls being the greatest continuous money shot.

It is also a very crucial plot point. Because as they follow Steve’s jizz the viewer will immediately be struck by the realisation that this is just more than a string of cum, it’s the epitome of the butterfly effect. As we watch it land onto sensitive machinery causing an explosion that tears open the space station you will understand that all of what is about to happen begun by one lonely man knocking one out in the toilet. This rope of semen becomes more of an existential odyssey than Kubrick’s 2001 could ever hope to be.

As the space station explodes the Main Titles begin playing out to a montage of what happens next. We are treated to clips of senate hearings and news reports about the destructive qualities of masturbating astronauts.

Reports of other space calamities caused by Spaceman semen occur and the future of our exploration beyond the stars is under threat. A solution to this epidemic is needed and quick.

A Senator suggests sending women instead but a NASA official replies “Do you know how much it would cost to kit them out in those shiny short skirts and thigh high boots?’

Eventually a group of scientists happen upon an idea – send specially constructed sex dolls to accompany the astronauts.

We cut to the President of the United States announcing that Sex Dolls will solve the Astronaut masturbating crisis. Now, a few years ago a President on the lawn of the White House talking about sex dolls in space would seem implausible but now?…Maybe not so much.

It is as the opening credits conclude that the viewer joins a particular band of intrepid and no longer sexually frustrated astronauts as they journey to the newly built Space Station.

In the cockpit is Matt. Quick back story Matt is the younger brother of Steve the wanker. This is revealed by some clever dialogue between Matt and the Control Centre.

Control: Okay Matt. Now comes the tricky part. You’ll need to concentrate for the link up. Clear your mind. Don’t think about the fact that your family was disgraced because of your brother Steve’s persistent masturbation addiction which caused an entire space station to explode.

We also know Matt is married with a kid. He looks up at two photos he has hanging from the cockpit. One a photo of his wife and child smiling by a tree and the other photo a more saucier one of his wife in lingerie. It is the latter that Matt stares at and with the sound of Control telling him to concentrate he turns to look at one of the sex dolls that accompanies him in the cockpit.

Maybe he has time for just a quick one?

He grabs the sex doll and begins wild lovemaking. The scene plays out with Matt lost in lust adopting all manner of sex positions all to the sounds of lights flashing, alarms, screaming and the increasingly irritated voice of Control.

What’s happening Matt?

Matt? Concentrate

Matt, are you fucking the Sex Doll?

Someone needs to get in there and disassemble that sex doll. Jeez this whole family are just wankers.

As the sex doll is riding Matt to a climax he looks over her shoulder through the cockpit window to witness the craft about to collide with the space station.

Matt’s final words are ‘Ooooh Fuck. Forgive me’.

Wide shot of the space station exploding. Probably if the CGI budget is tight can just use the same shot of the first station exploding but flip the image or something.

And that concludes the opening. Now you might think there’s a lot of throwaway stuff in there but all what you have witnessed will be relevant as the rest of the movie unfolds. Probably.

I know you have questions. How do the Sex Dolls end up on Saturn? So are they going to be Super and Sentient or just Super Sentient? And, you really are doing this aren’t you?

As always all these questions and more will be answered in a tightly woven plot with zero holes in it at all.

And yes whilst I haven’t actually explained how these Sex Dolls end up being from Saturn I have managed in the opening scene to put them vaguely yet plausibly in space during a montage which was pretty cool.

Stay Tuned for more Super Sentient Sex Dolls From Saturn

The Mystery Of Selina : A Confessions Tale

It was not the waking up in a strange bed that surprised me. That had become such a regular occurrence it had become more of a surprise to find myself in my own bed.

Neither was it the immediate realisation I was naked nor the thumping reminder of how much alcohol I had drank. These had all become my usual ritual of the morning after the night before.

I slowly turned around and willed myself to open my eyes and face whoever it was I would be regretting sleeping with this week.

I was already planning my exit strategy as I finally opened my eyes, hoping that whoever it was beside me was still asleep so I could sneak out and avoid the awkwardness of any further encounter with him.

Except it wasn’t a him it was a her.

And it wasn’t just any her; it was Mel, one of my best friends.

And she was just as naked and surprised as I was.

For a moment there was a beautiful sense of normality. I whispered a pleasant ‘Good Morning’ before snuggling into my pillow, closing my eyes pleased I would not have to make an early morning exit.

The brief tranquility was interrupted first by Mel enquiring loudly “Why the fuck are we naked?” followed quickly by the thumping headache, a reminder of the alcohol consumed and likely the answer to Mel’s question.

I opened my eyes, squinting as the morning light, invading through a gap in the curtain, decided it would make my headache feel that little bit worse. Mel was sitting up, completely naked, a perplexed look on her face.

Her impatience to know the answer to the burning question ‘Why the fuck were we naked’ prompted her to shake me. Clearly she thought I could solve this riddle but one look at my confused face showed I was as clueless as she was.

There was nothing unusual with us sleeping together. As one of my best friends we had often shared a bed but it had always been whilst relatively clothed and only ever to sleep. This time it was different.

Mel and I had become a lot closer of late, the only two remaining members of The Feisty Feline Fellowship that still went out on a regular basis. Pixie was often travelling abroad with work and Pru was busy planning her wedding with her Doctor fiancé.

It was Pru’s transformation into Bridezilla that led Mel and I to start taking road trips to avoid her. Pru had told us very clearly that we wouldn’t be part of the bridal party.

“I have lots of sisters you understand” she explained. We were more than happy with this arrangement and pleased we could just turn up at the wedding with zero responsibility and get drunk.

Yet Pru had started feeling guilty about our lack of involvement and was trying to find roles for us. This led to us avoiding her in the hope that our unreliability would preclude us from any part to play in this wedding.

It was during one of these Operation: Avoid Pru road trips that Mel and I had awoken together in the same bed, naked.

“Why the fuck we naked?!” Mel persisted in knowing the answer to this question as if, that riddle alone, would unlock the memory of the night before that was lost in a haze of alcohol.

I looked back at her, our eyes locked in a lingering glance as we silently contemplated the most likely possibility.

By now my attraction to the same sex was firmly established and whilst Mel had never previously shown any such inclination our bond had grown stronger.

We were more flirtatious with each other, sexual innuendo laced our conversation, kisses and hugs became more frequent.

Although I couldn’t recall having any sexual desire towards Mel perhaps it had always been there laying deep in my subconscious. With each road trip maybe we grew closer and closer, our attraction intensifying until neither of us could resist anymore.

The previous night was the culmination of years of repressed desire. Our blissful union confirmed in a budget room at the Travelodge.

As I stared into Mel’s bleary but beautiful eyes I wondered if she felt the same. That a sexual encounter between two friends needn’t be awkward but the start of something even more magical.

“Oh Fuck!! Do you think we had sex?”

Or maybe not.

I took a sip from the previous nights water which tasted stale as I attempted to put my friend’s mind at rest.

“I doubt we had sex sweetie” I replied, trying to sound as certain as I could.

“Really? Cos I can’t remember and you can’t remember and why would we be naked and have each other’s hands on our…” Mel was starting to sound a bit manic and paced around the bed.

“The sheets!” she exclaimed as she pulled back the sheet I was still under.

“Easy tiger! I mean if you want to go again” I joked which was not fully appreciated by Mel “What are you doing sweetie?”

“If we had sex there would be….evidence ” she explained.

And there we were, early in the morning, heads thumping staring intently at the crumpled sheets of a bed.

“We need one of those blue lights” said Mel “Y’know like they use in CSI”

“I don’t think we have one of those sweetie” I replied “But I don’t think we really want to be shining blue lights onto the bed of a budget hotel!”

Mel looked a little disappointed that we did not possess a light that would reveal sexual fluid on sheets; she even checked her phone to see if there was a suitable app.

She seemed obsessed with finding out if we had sex or not. I was unsure if this was because it was something she always wanted to do and now regretted that alcohol will forever prevent her from recalling that special moment. Alternatively, she was just horrified that two best mates appeared to have had drunken lesbian sex.

Either way I concluded that little would be achieved just staring at a bed and suggested we get dressed and go down to get some breakfast, my stomach was threatening to release the previous night’s alcohol if it didn’t get some bacon.

“Where are our clothes?” said Mel , seemingly determined to only communicate in questions.

As with her previous enquiry of whether we had sex I equally had no answer to the location of our clothing.

Our road trips are normally spontaneous and so we travel very light. We had been wearing the only clothes we had with us, which had just vanished. A search round the tiny room showed no trace of us ever possessing any clothing.

“What are we going to do?” More questions from Mel “We are naked and have no clothes!”

It was difficult to think straight having to contend with a panicky Mel and a bacon obsessed stomach threatening to rebel. I offered the only suggestion I could think of.

“Look the car is just outside. I say we checkout from here and make a run for it. There’s probably some old gym clothes in the car, we can wear them”

I smiled at Mel quite happy with the plan I had thought of despite so many distractions.

“Selina we are on the fourth floor!”

I was too busy fumbling the remote to checkout to respond to a clear flaw in my plan. Within a few moments something else was bothering me more than the practicalities of a naked run to the car park.

“Sweetie. When did we order porn?”

Mel joined me and looked at the TV which clearly displayed our bill and the four porn films we apparently ordered. She slowly mouthed the titles of the porn, looking at me after each one; at least it distracted her from our naked-lost-clothes-possibly-also-had-sex predicament.

“You must have ordered them” she concluded.

“How is it me” I replied “I’ve been with you the entire time!”

Whilst the over indulgence on porn was another weird twist it still remained the least of our worries. Yet naked, no clothes and still yearning for bacon I suddenly had an idea.

“Bathroom!” I exclaimed.

Mel smiled “Yes we probably took our clothes off in the bathroom.”

I was going to suggest we just take the towels, wrap them around us and pretend that we’ve been to the swimming pool as we walk through the hotel. My plan did rely on other guests and staff not to realise this hotel did not have pool. Therefore Mel’s suggestion our clothes were located in the bathroom seemed a much better idea. I watched as she padded quickly to the bathroom.

When she opened the door and turned on the light the room was absent of our clothes (although two large towels were clearly there for me to instigate Plan B).

Yet despite the revelation that our clothes were missing Mel was significantly more concerned with the body she found in our bathtub.

“Do you think he’s dead?” she asked , her voice wavering slightly

“Well, he’s laying face down in a bathtub and not moving so it’s a possibility.” I replied

We both stood at the edge of the doorway staring at this lifeless male body. He was about 6ft, scraggily hair and was clothed in a dressy shirt and skinny trousers, his feet were bare and hung over the lip of the bathtub.

We returned to the bedroom and processed this new twist to our strange morning. My stomach frustrated over the lack bacon now conspired with my bladder, but I had no desire to pee next to a dead guy.

“Call your dad” suggested Mel “I bet he knows how to get rid of a body”.

I stared through the crack in the curtain as my brain worked through this new event. Was he dead and if so did we kill him?

There was no blood anywhere and so the only violence that happened in this room is the assault on my brain that thumped hard. I would have mentioned that to Mel but she’d only be wanting to get a new CSI light to scour the room with…just to be sure.

Maybe we strangled him. Perhaps on this eventful road trip not only did Mel and I declare our love for each other but also our burning hatred of all Men. We lured that poor soul to our room before strangling him with our clothes, burning the evidence and then horny with vengeful lust Mel and I had passionate sex.

Or maybe he simply wasn’t dead.

“Go and give him a nudge” I suggested to Mel

“I’m not touching him” Mel protested.

“Just find something to poke him with then” I snapped back, my head and stomach roaring in union.

Mel looked around the room and unable to find anything suitable opted for the collection of tea and coffee sachets which she threw one at a time at the body. Unsurprisingly, an Earl Grey teabag does not raise the dead.

I continued to stare out the window, I needed to think but my head and stomach was making it impossible. A coffee may have helped but presently my ability to make one now lay under a dead body.

Then something caught my eye outside. A possible clue to this mystery we have found ourselves in.

“Hey sweetie” I called out to Mel “I’ve found our clothes.”

Mel joined me at the window as we spotted our clothing on the tarmac four floors below, except my bra which was dangling impressively from a branch of a tree.

“Why are they out there?” asked Mel “What is going on Selina?”

“I may be able to help with that”

We turned to see the dead guy standing in front of us. And he was talking. And he wasn’t dead.

“I met you two at a club” the Not-Dead guy began to explain “You were being very flirty with each other, dancing and….”

“Dude I want to hear this story but our eyes are not down there”

“Sorry” Not-Dead Guy continued “So you two were flirting…..”

“Or there!!!”

“Anyway you saw me looking and you came over and we got talking. We had a few drinks and then you (looking at Mel) asked if I wanted to come back to your room.

You (looking at me) said I would have the greatest night of my life. So we went back to your room and you started kissing each other and made me watch as you did a striptease, throwing your clothes out the window.

Then you said you wanted to make my dreams come true and asked if I watched porn. You turned on the TV and asked me to pick a porn film promising you would recreate every scene, all in this room with me.”

“Dude you ordered FOUR porn films!”

“I couldn’t make my mind up. Anyway once the film started you kinda just said you were sleepy and said I could carry on watching the porn if I wanted.”

I looked at Mel who seemed a little ashamed of our antics. A feeling of regret now joined my hunger and need to urinate. Such events did not faze me, it was who I was. But had I broken a golden rule and dragged my friend into my dangerous, dirty lifestyle?

“Anyway, it was getting late and I couldn’t get a cab so I just went and slept in the bath. Hope that was okay?”

Not-Dead Guy finished his explanation and then lingered in the hope that we may still give him what we had drunkenly promised the night before. However, the look on our faces clearly indicated that would not be happening.

“I guess I’ll be going” he said rather sorrowfully and began to move towards the door.

Not-Dead Guy seemed really nice. He was attractive and respectful, there’s not many guys like that around so just maybe…

“Hey sweetie” I called out after him, he turned with a look of anticipation on his face “You wouldn’t mind going downstairs and getting our clothes would you?”

Fell8 – The Problem With Corpses

If there had been time then Veronica most certainly would have asked Lorna why she was giving a handjob to a headless corpse.

No doubt if time allowed Lorna may have tried to explain her actions. To have argued that she was not in fact engaged in some dubious sexual act with a dead person. Indeed, she may even have had the opportunity to clarify that all she was doing was wiping her DNA of his cock before intending to dump the body.

However there was no such time for any of this. No sooner had Veronica approached the car and screamed and within an instant of Lorna responding with a scream of her own, Veronica found herself being wrestled to the ground by the man who had so relentlessly pursued her through the woods.

Lorna stared at where the screaming woman in a wedding dress once stood. It had been a strange night already and judging by what had just happened it was going to get a lot stranger.

Lorna released her grip from the penis she had been so fervently cleaning and with some reluctance opened the car door to investigate the welfare of the screaming Bride.

As Lorna walked round to the front of the car she could hear desperate screams, followed by the sight of the woman in a wedding dress straddling the head of a guy, his hands clawed away at her legs and behind.

“Is everything okay” Lorna enquired, probably a little too politely for what the situation required.

Veronica turned and screamed “He’s trying to fucking eat me.”

“Oh in that case I’ll leave you two alone.” Lorna replied ready to walk away.

“Where the fuck are you going? Come here!” Veronica shouted, desperately trying to avoid being dragged down onto the gnashing teeth of her assailant.

Lorna turned back, her attention was drawn to the rather large black cock that protruded angrily from the guy’s trousers.

“Look if this is some kinky sex game you guys are playing I really am not in the mood for this” Lorna replied “I’m having a really bad evening.”

Veronica shot Lorna a look designed to indicate that this was no game. Frustrated that the blonde lady clearly wasn’t getting it she followed up with the more direct “Fucking help me! He’s trying to kill me.”

Much to Veronica’s annoyance there was still some reluctance on Lorna’s part to actually assist, she seemed distracted with the sight of the large black penis. A further scream shook Lorna from her transfixed gaze of the throbbing member.

“What should I do?” Lorna asked

Veronica raised her eyes “I dunno ask him nicely to stop” she said before shouting “Hit him!”

Ignoring the sarcasm Lorna stalked around the guy who was still flailing and gnashing at Veronica. She was unsure exactly where to hit him and the impatient cries for assistance were more a hindrance than a help. Panicking she spied the cock once more and opted that this was the best place to attack. With a large swing of her leg Lorna’s foot connected perfectly with the thick meat.

AAARRRGGGGH!

Lorna hopped around, confused as to how it ended up hurting her more than it did him. She stared back at the penis which showed no sign of damage.

“Yeh, that don’t work…I’ve tried” Veronica said, bouncing up and down to avoid the guy being able to get a firm hold and drag her to her demise.

“You could have said.” Lorna replied, rubbing her foot.

She looked to Veronica for some further guidance as to what to do but she was a little preoccupied trying not to be killed. Scanning the dark car park Lorna spied a discarded metal pole. This has to work. Returning to the guy’s exposed penis she held the pole high above her head and with all her strength brought it crashing down on to the shaft.

Nothing.

Lorna inspected the pole which had bent slightly before gazing back at the unscathed penis which still stood proud with no sign of the assault that had just been carried out upon it.

More confused than angry she begun hitting the seemingly invincible cock repeatedly with the pole.

“Why”

Thwack!

“Won’t”

Thwack!

“You”

Thwack!

“Fucking”

Thwack!

“Work!!!”

Then it broke….

Not the penis as Lorna had hoped but instead the metal pole. Veronica turned around looking for a positive sign that her ordeal would soon be over but all she saw was Lorna gesturing to the damaged weapon with a shrug.

With her panic rising and her strength failing Veronica knew that it was only matter of time before her death would come. She couldn’t really blame the blonde, she had tried her best albeit probably not with the initial enthusiasm she would have expected. But if repeatedly hitting this guy between the legs with a metal pole is not going to stop him then what possibly could? She could feel her muscles relax as her body began to shut down and her mind accepting her fate.

Lorna stared helplessly as the strong arms of the guy began to get a firmer hold on the bride. She had tried to save her but now could do nothing but watch the gruesome conclusion which she had failed to prevent. There must be something else she can do? But what?

It was unclear why Lorna chose to do what she did next. Maybe, at the moment of desperation she hoped that she did possess some odd super power. Perhaps, she just opted to revert to her go-to talent. Or it could be that she just really wanted to suck on that desirable black cock and felt the best time to do it was why he was distracted.

But that is what she did. Lorna lowered to her knees and gripped the thick shaft with both hands. Her lips wrapped round the dark, pulsating head as she fed his length into her mouth.

It was at this point that Veronica looked round, perhaps her intention was to take one last mournful look back before she died. She probably expected to see Lorna’s tearful face, a final look between them to recognise she was grateful for the attempts to save her. What she had not expected was to see Lorna sucking on her soon-to-be killer’s cock.

“Hello? What the fuck are you doing?” Veronica shouted rather indignantly.

She would have continued. Gladly in her final moments to have unleashed a tirade of abuse at the blonde who had chosen now to be an opportune moment to perform oral sex. But just as Veronica went to spend her final breath swearing at Lorna she was interrupted by a wet popping sound. The relief she felt of her attacker’s grip loosening was quickly replaced by a sticky feeling between her legs and a reminder she was not wearing panties.

She fell back on top of her attacker and saw the bloody mess where his head should have been.

“What did you do?” Veronica asked turning to Lorna who was in the process of dry-retching onto the floor.

Lorna crawled and sat against the front of the car. All she could do was shrug. She had no clue what she did or indeed what was going on. She looked up and saw Veronica standing over her, her confused expression illuminated by the headlights of the car. Such was Veronica’s preoccupation of the strange turn of events she did not notice a piece of the guy’s brain drop from between her legs. Lorna did and continued with her dry-retching.

Veronica waited until Lorna had stopped throwing up before she declared what she wished to do next.

“I need to go to the hotel” she said “I need to make sure everyone is okay.”

Lorna had other ideas, still reeling from the events that had occurred she replied “Hun, I think we need to go find help.”

“Where? Who? Look there are loads of people back at the hotel. You know…safety in numbers” Veronica said, casting an eye back towards the woodlands “Plus my evening guests will be arriving soon.”

Lorna run her hands through her hair as her gaze fell upon the headless body of the attacker. She was attracted to Veronica’s suggestion of safety but remained troubled by what was happening.

“I dunno maybe go to a Police station. Tell them what happened…If anyone can believe this shit.” Lorna concluded with a laugh, she was back to the same problem that had preoccupied her just before Veronica arrived. Her thoughts returned to the other headless corpse which still remained in the car. One guy’s head exploding after a blowjob was strange enough but two? Something was going on but without the slightest clue what that something was how could she decide what was best to do. How could she explain it to anyone?

“But town is miles away.” Veronica said, interrupting Lorna’s contemplation of events “The hotel is just up the road. Look, we can go there. It’ll be safe and we can work out what happened.”

Veronica had a point. Whatever, was going on trying to make sense of it all in a deserted dark car park was hardly the place. Plus, Lorna’s stomach was rumbling and she presumed that Veronica would have put on a nice buffet for her guests. Maybe there would be chicken nuggets.

Lorna got to her feet and nodded her agreement to accompany Veronica to the hotel “However, we do have one thing to deal with before we go.”

“What?”

Lorna opened the driver’s door and indicated the headless corpse that occupied the seat. “What are we going to do with him?” she asked.

Whilst the temptation was just to leave both of the dead bodies in the car park it was agreed albeit with some reluctance that they needed to take them on their journey. Admittedly, neither Lorna nor Veronica were thinking entirely clearly but if they were to go to the hotel and tell all what had happened it would probably be best to have some proof.

Although, Veronica’s nearest and dearest would be present, even they might find it difficult to believe that a guy’s head just simply exploded. They did discuss whether they should mention the reason why the deceased guys no longer had heads and it was agreed to only mention it if anyone asks. They hoped that the assembled guests would just simply accept they are headless without pushing for further information as to how that came to be.

Having decided that the two corpses would be coming along with them the next issue was where to put them. The obvious place was in the trunk of the car but actually getting them in there proved to be quite difficult.

Firstly, removing the guy from the front seat was far more troublesome and time consuming than it ought to have been. To be fair neither had ever removed a headless corpse seated in an upright position from a car before. It would have been quicker if Lorna and Veronica had not spent minutes arguing who was going to unhook the seat belt. Veronica argued that as Lorna killed him she should be the one to unhook him. Lorna’s only retort was that she didn’t want to do it.

Therefore she leaned over to unclip him, the button dripped with blood and other matter. She gagged as she reached round to release him, his penis still stood proud and Lorna whacked her face on it several times during the task. Eventually, after much fumbling and gagging she heard the satisfying click and the sight of the belt retracting. Returning to Veronica she expected some praise but was just met with the belated suggestion of “Wouldn’t it have been easier if you had reached in from the passenger’s side?”

With the dead body unrestrained the next step was to get him out of the car. This was relatively simple albeit a little bit messy. Lorna grabbed the bloody shoulder and just pulled on him, he flopped out landing on the floor with a squelch. They had to pause moving onto the next phase whilst both women threw up a little.

The final part of actually getting the cadavers into trunk was the most difficult. It started slowly with Veronica protesting that she could not possibly lift a dead body as it would ruin her dress. Lorna pointed out the bottom of her dress which was stained in the blood of her attacker; a good ten minutes was then spent with Lorna comforting a distraught Veronica and telling her she still looked beautiful.

Although it was only a couple of feet from where the bodies lay to the trunk it may as well have been miles for the effort it took to move them. No sooner had they gone a few inches but Veronica would drop the body screaming “It touched me! It touched me”. When they got moving again Lorna would have to pause why she dry-retched again.

Eventually, they managed to get both inside which had required some rearrangement, clearly hatchbacks were not designed to fit two dead bodies in the trunk. Any pride they felt over their macabre achievement quickly diminished when they attempted to shut the lid. A quick slam of saw the indentation of the head of the attacker’s penis form in the top before the trunk popped open again. Lorna slammed the lid down several times upon the firm meat until it eventually burst through the metal.

Eager to be away from the eeriness of the deserted car park they decided to leave the trunk open and just make their way to the hotel. As they pulled away they heard the sickening squelch as the attacker’s body as it rolled out onto the ground. Exhausted and reluctant to go through the effort of getting him back in the trunk again Lorna just drove off without him. One body would be enough proof.

The route to the hotel took them up a small dirt path sandwiched between woodland either side. Veronica played with the radio on the way there desperate to see if there was any news that could explain the strange phenomenon they had experienced. All she kept getting was static. That sound combined with the gloominess of the straight dirt road made Lorna feel uneasy. They had chosen to go to the hotel for safety, she really hoped it would be there. She could see through the dimness the outline of the hotel. What she really wanted to see when they arrived would be a party in full swing, that those present being perfectly oblivious to the events that had occurred.

As she drove to the spacious grounds of the hotel Lorna’s heart sunk. Illuminated by the headlights was a scene of carnage. Adorning the front of the hotel was this beautiful water feature. Yet the beauty was marred by decapitated bodies that filled the spacious bowl. The water now run thick with blood. The hotel was not to be their sanctuary.

“Oh my God! No! Please no!”. whimpered Veronica, tears streaming down her eyes.

Lorna put the car in reverse her instincts told her to get out of this place right now. She had no idea where to go but at that moment it was anywhere else. But before she could turn the car around Veronica rushed out and ran towards the entrance, ignoring Lorna’s cries of “Get back in the fucking car!”

Lorna listened to the car engine hum and cursed loudly as she whacked the steering wheel “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

She reluctantly got out of the vehicle in pursuit of Veronica. She had joined her here with thoughts of safety and chicken nuggets. Now her only thought was to save Veronica because if the sounds of screams was any indication she had ran into a whole lot of trouble.

Fates Avow: The Arbiter : Part Three

< Part Two

Any hope that the tired and worn out exterior of the pub would not be replicated inside faded as Connie entered.

Although spacious there was a perpetual gloominess about the place. A few lights hung casually from the ceiling, the cracked glass coverings revealed dull yellowing bulbs. Black specks marked the final resting place of curious insects.

The murkiness of the bulb betrayed its main purpose and all that it could muster was to illuminate a constant stream of dust that seemed on an infinite loop round the mouldy yellow light.

To the right were a row of cubicles, three wooden benches adorned in tatty red leather enveloped tired looking tables. The gloom would not allow Connie to see as far as the furthest benches.

Further down the room a number of tables were haphazardly laid out and the chairs that surrounded them were not arranged in any particular order.

Towards the back were two doors side by side, Connie presumed these led to the toilets but there were no signs indicating which one was intended for Gentleman and which for Ladies. Connie doubted, given the decor, that this particular Pub was trailblazing with Gender Neutral facilities.

In the furthest corner was a pool table. The green velvet covering was scratched and it was unlikely a competitive game could be had with just three balls and one cue.

Connie followed the dark green carpet which in places was so worn away she could see the floorboards beneath. Stains sporadically embellished the carpet, some appeared of dubious nature but no doubt the origin of each stain was, in itself, an interesting tale.

There was a musky smell that immediately had filled Connie’s nostrils as she entered. It was as if she could smell every pint of beer ever supped in this establishment. The aroma was so heavy she had to swallow it down to allow herself to breathe normally.

To her left was the bar and there framed by the optics and beer taps stood the woman. She was illuminated by a neon branded sign advertising a beer that Connie was sure did not exist anymore.

The woman smiled and Connie made her way over to the bar and sat down on one of only two tall bar stools at the front of the expansive wooden bar.

The oak panel was deeply scored and down the entire length were dark rings from the many drinks that would have been placed upon the bar by careless customers and staff alike. They occurred all the way down the bar leading to what appeared to be a wooden box.

Connie squinted in the gloominess to see what that box was because it looked out of place. She was shaken by her surveillance of her surroundings by the woman slamming a glass onto the bar.

“So you’ve had a bad day?” asked the woman, pouring some amber liquid into the glass.

“Terrible” replied Connie

“Well this will make you feel better” said the woman sliding the half filled glass over to Connie.

Connie picked up the drink and took a tentative swig. There was a surprising potency to the liquid and she coughed a frisky ‘Wow!’

“It’s good stuff!” laughed the woman “I’m Heze by the way” (she pronounced it Haze).

“Connie” replied Connie still choking slightly on her drink.

Heze leaned on the bar and rested her chin on her hand “Well Connie tell me about this bad day you are having”

As Connie begun to tell Heze of all the annoyances she had to endure something peculiar happened.

A low hissing sound began to fill the room, then,faintly at first, the soft hum of music. This melodic interruption caused Connie to stop talking and seek out the source of the tune. She presumed that it was from a jukebox but a quick scan of the gloomy interior did not reveal one.

Listening intently she followed the tinny notes to the box at the end of the bar, the box that appeared so out of place when Connie had first seen it.

The music became louder and it was a familiar song to Connie, one that her parents used to listen to. She believed it was by The Beatles although she couldn’t remember the precise name of the song, John Lennon was singing about a Guru called Dave or something.

Heze who had been resting against the bar stood up straight and glanced towards the box then out at the cubicles opposite the bar.

From the gloomy shadows a man emerged and he walked slowly towards the musical cube as if he were in a trance. The presence of someone else being here had initially surprised Connie.

Both her and Heze watched as he took the box between his hands and started to examine it, lifting it up to study all four sides. He glanced up from the box and looked at Heze before his head snapped round to intently stare at Connie.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Connie” she replied nervously, the intensity to which he studied her made her feel uncomfortable.

“Connie? Do I know you?” he returned his attention to the box, looking it over once more before returning to Connie “Who are you?”

This man seemed confused and Connie presumed he was a regular in the pub that had just woken up after sleeping off a particular heavy night.

Connie was unsure how to respond to this individual. Indeed her only thought was how best to leave the pub. Her day was bad enough as it was and she could do without an altercation with some random drunk guy.

She watched nervously as his attention returned to the box. With the song still playing he wandered back to the cubicle, his apparent interest in Connie over. She followed him until he was consumed by the gloom, the only indication of his presence was the tinny tune that still played.

Connie spun back round to look at Heze who gave a forced smile “That’s the boss” she said with an embarrassed shrug.

Connie thought it was best she left and took one final swig of her drink and coughed her goodbyes.

“How much do I owe you?” she enquired.

Heze threw up her hands “On the house” she replied.

Connie expressed her gratitude once more and then walked towards the large wooden door.

“You can’t leave”

Connie spun round to witness the man emerge once more from the darkness, still cradling the musical box.

“I’m sorry?” replied Connie, trying to hide the anxiety that was building up inside her.

“You can’t leave. It’s not safe ” said the man.

Connie’s heart begun to pound as the realisation that her exit from this pub may not be an easy one. She shot a look over at Heze who was trying to get her bosses attention “Ryan. Ryan” she kept repeating.

“What do you mean it’s not safe?” asked Connie taking a step backwards further near the door.

“It’s not safe. You leave here. Bad things will happen.” continued Ryan.

Connie reached behind her, blindly grabbing at the handle. She stepped further back as Ryan approached.

“What bad things?” she asked , hoping that engaging him in conversation may distract him enough so she can make her exit.

“Terrible things. Horrid things. You are only safe here. You cannot leave” he said, there was a confused mania in the pattern of his voice which did little to calm the rising panic that Connie was feeling.

Her heart was racing and she inwardly gave a small sigh of relief when her she finally found the handle to the door. Although the music was still playing the sweetest sound Connie heard was of the door unlocking as she twisted the handle.

With her back still to the door she tugged at the handle and a comforting ray of light from the low afternoon sun shone through.

Her eyes were fixed on Ryan as she stepped back. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her leg. The unexpected breeze challenged the musky smell for dominance in the air. The dust that had dutifully followed its same infinite path now swirled around on a new chaotic route.

Ryan walked towards her still clutching the box muttering all manner of warnings about impending danger as Heze continued to try and attract his attention. All the while the song continued to provide the soundtrack to this weird encounter that left Connie feeling confused, frightened and clear she had to leave.

She spun round and completed her escape from the building, slamming the door behind her. The street was rather busy but rather seek comfort in a crowd her instincts told her to run. She turned and sprinted up the alleyway that ran alongside the pub.

She could hear the blood pumping in her ears as she sprinted along the alley. She looked back to see if either Ryan or Heze were pursuing her.

Such was her concentration of what might be behind her that she neglected to pay much attention to what was in front of her.

Had she done so she would have noticed two figures standing there. Although it would have been difficult to make out their features in the dullness of the alley she would at the very least had seen the glint of the knife that one held in their hand.

Different path. Same Conclusion.

Fates Avow: The Arbiter: Part Two

< Part One

Connie was having a bad day….But you know that already. You know her story of how she woke up late, rushed to get ready, had someone steal her money, accidentally burnt down her flat, got fired from her job, found out her boyfriend was cheating and then to cap it all off got murdered.

In every story there are moments where things could take an alternative route; that each different choice would open up more and more possibilities which in turn lead to even more eventualities.

Yet, inevitably, even if we chose to take a different path, no matter how unique the journey may be it always leads to the same place.

Maybe Connie chose to go home when she missed the train but that would have seen her trapped in her flat when it caught fire.

Or perhaps she did have enough money to get a taxi only to then be involved in a road traffic collision.

Different path, same conclusion. Connie died that day.

However in every story there is always that moment when the different path taken can change the entire narrative.

For Connie that moment was standing outside the dilapidated building that once used to be a Pub.

In its more glorious years this building would have been alive with the sounds of communal revelry. The tired facade now betrayed the once vibrant colours that lured many into its comfy interior.

Connie never went inside on the day she died; she thought it was closed, abandoned. Her curiosity of the building was not sufficient enough to see her try to enter. There was nothing inviting about this strange place.

However there had been something but in her rage and torment she had simply not seen it.

Haphazardly resting against the side of the building was a wooden board, it was the typical one you see outside pubs and restaurants that proudly exclaim ‘Come On In We’re Open’, followed by a list of drinks and written in chalk Today’s Specials (There were none listed).

In the moments before Connie arrived outside the building, the earlier inclement weather had knocked the board over so it rested hidden against the wall.

If Connie had been earlier she may have seen it before it fell and taken the sign up on its welcoming offer to ‘Come On In’. But she didn’t and she died.

Maybe even the presence of the sign would not have enticed her to go in. It was after all as worn out and broken as the building. Plus they didn’t have any Specials on that day.

She may have studied the sign but the revelation of her boyfriend’s infidelity was always going to send her into that rage which would conclude with her death.

Different Path. Same Conclusion.

But what if, rather than arriving earlier, she arrived a little later?

****

“Connie! Wait”

Connie turned to see Ann bounding after her. Connie desperately wanted to just leave and get home. She could not bear anymore humiliation and was fighting so hard to keep even a modicum of dignity.

When Clive had rather abruptly informed her that she was being fired she could feel the tears begin to bubble up, ready to erupt. With it would come the rage and Clive would never know how close he came to having his face smashed in with a stapler.

“I’m fine Ann. Go back to your desk” pleaded Connie as she tried to hide the fact she was very much not fine.

Despite her portly frame Ann surprised Connie with how quickly she was able to catch up.

“Are you sure?” Ann said, placing her thick hand on Connie’s shoulder.

There was a look of genuine sympathy in the eyes of Ann. This was surprising given her propensity to leave passive aggressive post-its warding off anyone who was tempted to swipe her tuna sandwiches.

Connie just wanted to leave the building, go home and cry her heart out. But she no longer had a home she to privately express her anguish in.

That thought was enough to set her off and she wept. Burying her head deep into Ann’s shoulder, all her frustrations as to why life would choose to be so cruel to her leaked onto Ann’s crocheted cardigan.

Each sorrowful recollection of the morning events were punctuated with a sympathetic ‘There. There’ from Ann.

During this outpouring Connie’s phone vibrated, indicating a message. Her hand moved down to retrieve it but was stopped by Ann.

“Leave it. It can wait” she said “You just let it all out.”

And that she did and when Connie had no more tears to spill she sniffled her gratitude for the kindness Ann had shown.

“Do you feel better?” asked Ann

“A little” Connie replied, forcing half a smile “Thank you. Best go see what is left of my flat”.

“Here” Ann said, pulling out a few bank notes and pressing it into Connie’s hand.

“I can’t Ann…This is too much” protested Connie trying to force the money back into Ann’s hand.

Ann stepped back raising her hands “Take it. You need it more than me.”

After one final hug of gratitude Connie left the building and took the same route that would lead to her eventual death.

She passed someone shouting obscenities towards a HGV which was disappearing into the distance.

“Way my luck is going today I’m surprised that weren’t me” thought Connie as she stared at the soaking wet angry pedestrian.

It was then she remembered about her text and paused her journey to retrieve her phone.

As she was about to type in her pin code something out of the corner of her eye caused her to look up from her phone and towards the crumbling old building.

The front of the pub looked as always uninviting and Connie would have returned to her phone were it not for the woman standing to the side adjusting a wooden sign.

It was initially the blue hair that caused Connie’s gaze to linger longer than she might have. The woman squatted down to write something on the board, her black sleeveless t-shirt riding up to reveal an intricate tattoo of a crescent moon on the small of her back.

The woman moved away revealing what she had written under the heading ‘Today’s Specials’.

Trouble Free

It was a curious thing to write but nevertheless for a brief moment that simple phrase caused Connie to smile.

“Gotta write something.” said the woman breaking Connie’s intense focus on the board.

“No specials?” Connie enquired.

“We haven’t done anything special here for quite sometime” the woman replied.

“Are you okay?” she asked noting the rawness in Connie’s eyes from where she had been crying.

“Just having a bad day, that’s all” replied Connie.

The woman smiled, there was a kindness to her face but Connie was in no doubt that this woman could handle herself if need be.

“Come inside for a drink then” the woman suggested “As the sign says, we are trouble free”

“I didn’t think you were open” said Connie looking up at the building with it’s flaky paint and cracked windows.

The woman followed her gaze and shrugged “This place is never closed to the troubled” she said with a smile and then opened the creaky wooden door to go inside.

Connie paused for a moment, twiddling her phone between her fingers. It had been a rough day already. Maybe just a quick drink to collect her thoughts.

If the mysterious blue haired woman was right maybe it would be a trouble free respite, even if this was unlikely to be the most comfortable place she had ever been in. What harm would one drink do? It’s not as if her day could get any worse.

Putting the phone back in her pocket she opened the door and entered the pub.

That simple act meant she would not die that day; her story would continue. Yet it was now a different story and one that still may not necessarily end well for Connie….Or for anyone for that matter.

Part Three >

Fates Avow: The Arbiter : Part One

<Prologue

Connie was having a bad day. A really bad day.

Indeed by the time the day was out there would not be sufficient superlatives to describe just how staggeringly bad this day would be.

It had started with her waking up already late for work. The commencement of this truly bad day would begin with her phone blatantly lying to her about how long 63% of battery would last. At some point as she slept her phone decided to switch off and not undertake its task of waking her up with an irritating beeping sound incorrectly described as ‘morning sunrise’.

Connie had contemplated charging her phone overnight but on seeing a news report about exploding batteries she had thought it was best not to. Her phone irritated her at the best of times and it would be the height of irritation if it actually caused her to die.

The irony of this thought process is that by the end of this horribly bad day she would, in fact, be dead.

Perhaps if her phone had killed her she would not have to endure all the other bad stuff that would occur before her ultimate demise.

Blissfully ignorant that this would be her last day on earth Connie cursed as she rushed out of bed and into the shower, promptly skipping back naked and wet to put her lying unreliable phone on charge.

She quickly got dressed and hurriedly straightened her hair before rushing out of her cramped flat.

Clip clopping her way to the train station Connie took a bite of a breakfast bar she had grabbed from the cupboard on her way out.

She had hoped that the nutritional information printed on the side of the wrapper was correct and this would provide her with sufficient sustenance. The groan from her belly after she devoured the bar told her otherwise. Eating what was effectively crumbs glued together was hardly a hearty breakfast.

Connie arrived at the train station to witness the train already in the process of departing. She had a futile burst of speed in some strange hope that she would be able to catch up with the train and leap on; alternatively she may have expected that the train driver might spot her and happily stop the train. She hadn’t even reached the gates to the platform before she realised that neither of those things would happen.

Connie cursed again. There wouldn’t be another train for at least an hour. She was going to be very late for work.

Yet in the final moments of her life she’d probably look back and think oversleeping and missing a train was rather pleasant in comparison to being dead. Indeed, such was the suddenness of her demise she would have no time to curse at the unfairness of being killed…..and that is really something that is curse worthy.

Connie’s only chance of getting to work at a time vaguely respectable would be to get a taxi. She saw a row of taxis and smiled that perhaps her fortune maybe changing.

She went to a cashpoint to draw some money out but any hope that good luck was now firmly on her side faded when the screen announced she had no money and then promptly ate her card.

Connie cursed once more. It was payday, the only day of the month she could be confident that there would be money in her account.

Pulling out her phone she tapped on her banking app to enquire about her lack of funds. Her phone chose not to break the news to her gently but instead made the pixelated pronouncement that she had been paid but someone had nefariously then took all her money.

Connie cursed even more, she had no money and had no idea how she would pay for things such as rent or food. Had she known she would be dead by the end of the day this probably would have saved her some unnecessary heartache over these issues.

After several more moments of cursing Connie decided she would simply go home, call the bank then just go back to bed and wake up tomorrow when everything would be better.

She turned to walk back towards her apartment when her phone alerted her to a text message, it was from Ann, a colleague from work.

Where are you? Boss really wants to see you Now!!!!!!

Maybe it was the liberal use of exclamation marks but Connie, cursing again, decided she’d better try and get into work. She rifled though her jacket pocket and found some loose change, it would be enough to get the bus.

Connie found herself on her way to work in a cramped bus sat next to a guy who appeared to have chronic bronchitis. The onset of his spluttering coincided with the bus hitting any divot or pothole, of which there were many.

Through the rare breaks in his coughing Connie listened to the various automated security questions she had to pass to be able to speak to someone at her bank. The irony that she had to provide answers to the most ridiculous questions whilst someone had quite easily just wiped out her bank account was not lost on her.

The bus did not go directly to her work place and Connie alighted to begin the walk. As soon as she stepped off the bus, dark clouds appeared in the sky and it began to rain heavily down upon her. She looked at her phone which proudly displayed a big sun.

“Lying. Bastard. Phone!” she muttered.

Her walk to work by the standards already set was relatively uneventful save that as she walked by every puddle a car would splash her.

Connie finally arrived at work, tired, drenched and annoyed. She just wished this day to be over and of course it would be soon albeit with a permanence that perhaps she hadn’t wished for.

As she walked through the vast lobby of the building where she worked she cursed again on seeing that the lift was out of order. After ascending 16 flights of stairs she eventually reached her desk.

“Bad day?” Ann enquired looking at a drenched and exhausted Connie with a mixture of concern and bemusement.

“Horrible ” Connie replied “I don’t think this day can get any worse.”

No sooner had those words left her lips but her phone bleeped, it was a message from Darren, her neighbour and head of the Resident’s Association for her block of flats.

Hey Connie. Look I don’t know how to tell you this but your flat has just burnt down.

Connie stared at her phone in disbelief. She read the message a number of times before she believed what she was being told, even then her primary thought was whether it was appropriate for Darren to sign off with a sad face emoji.

Connie slumped into her chair and raised her hands to her face. She cursed loudly at the culprit of the fire

Fucking hair straighteners!

In her rush to get work she had forgot to turn them off. Her desire to look presentable had now, in effect, left her homeless.

No money. No home.

“Everything okay?” enquired Ann

“My home has just burnt down” replied Connie, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“Oh dear! You could do without something like that happening”

Connie decided she would have to go home to see whatever was left of the charred remains of her home; she’d also have to make arrangements to find somewhere to stay. Maybe she could stay at her boyfriend’s house, although she remembered he was away on a conference for the next few days.

She had been dating Luke for over a year and things had become quite serious. Secretly she had been hoping he would ask her to move in. Perhaps her burning down the flat would force the issue. Every cloud and all that.

She wished Luke was with her now. To hold her in his large arms, kiss her on the top of the head and tell her everything will be okay.

“I gotta go” Connie announced to Ann

She got up to leave but was immediately faced with Clive, her boss.

“Ah Connie. You’re finally here. I need a word if I may” said Clive, clearly oblivious to the level of distress Connie was experiencing.

“Can it wait Clive. My flat has just burnt down” she replied

Clive thought for a moment then responded “Not really and if it has already burnt down a few minutes more won’t matter’

Connie sighed “I’ve really got to go”

“Okay” Clive said “I’ll be quick about it. We are having to downsize the department and your employment here will be terminated in a week.”

“Seriously?!” replied Connie “You tell me like that!”

“Well you did want me to be quick about it”

Connie just stared at Clive as her brain desperately tried to process yet another bombshell.

“Anyway I’m sorry your flat has burnt down ” said Clive offering a sympathetic pat on her shoulder before he turned and left.

Connie looked around at her co workers who stared back at her in open mouthed silence. Fighting back the tears she grabbed her bag and left the building.

It was only after emerging onto the street, which was now bathed in brilliant sunlight, that she realised she had no money to get home. She then realised she actually did not have a home on account of the fact it had burnt down.

No money. No home. No job.

Her brain offered no ideas on what next to do and so she just walked, her eyes brimming with tears.

Her brain that had failed in offering any solutions could only remind her of the extent of her problems.

No money. No home. No job.

She was momentarily distracted from the magnitude of her problems by her phone bleeping. She stopped to search through her pocket right next to the only remaining puddle left over from the earlier downpour.

As Connie desperately tried to locate her phone in her pocket a HGV drove past and covered her with dirty puddle water. She let out a few expletives at the driver before turning her attention back to retrieving her phone.

As she wiped the grimy water off the screen she became aware that she was in the shadow of a large building. She’d probably had walked past it countless times but never really noticed it. The facade was quite worn and the stain glass windows were dirty and cracked.

Suspended by a rusty iron chain was a sign. The wording was faded and she could not make out precisely what it said but there was a symbol that looked like a star and she could just about read the words ‘Public House’.

She contemplated for a moment going inside to get dried off but there was nothing about this place that looked inviting. Indeed, Connie didn’t even think it was open.

Having dried her phone she clicked on her messages, it was from Luke. Oh sweet Luke. He’ll know what to do.

However any comfort in seeing his name quickly turned to confusion. The message was a picture of him laying on the bed in nothing but tight underwear, below the text read;

Come and get it Tiger! Room 113. Ready when you are! Grrrr!

Why would he send this to her. He was miles away. Was he honestly expecting her to go all that way to meet him? And since when as he ever called her ‘Tiger’?!

Connie replied with a simple question mark, followed by ‘Luke?’ then ‘Luke??’ and finally ‘Luke??!!’

She stared impatiently at her screen but no response came. She tried calling him but there was no answer.

Her brain, reeling from failing to comprehend her other problems gleefully announced that it had solved what was going on here.

He’s cheating on you!

That was it. The final straw. She threw her phone to the floor and began stamping on it whilst screaming every obscenity she knew, including some she had never previously uttered.

Her phone had done nothing but conspire against her to make this the worse possible day ever.

Dictated by rage she stalked off down the street, each angry step she took a reminder of what her life had now become.

No money. No home. No job. No boyfriend.

In the midst of anger and confusion she found herself down a secluded alley. Had she not been so preoccupied with her problems she may have paid more attention to where she was.

If she hadn’t been replaying every bad thing that happened she might have noticed the two shadowy figures approach from behind her.

She may have been able to run away before they grabbed her and slammed her head against the brick wall.

Had she not smashed her phone it may have aided her in calling for help.

As it were, it was in that alleyway that Connie died.

It was reported in the press but only briefly. Connie simply became another statistic to add to all the other statistics about the rising levels of crime.

She would be mourned by her close family and friends but not really by anyone else. A few who had noted the brief report of her death would comment on social media but merely to reflect upon their own self worth.

‘OMG. So sad. RIP. I visited that place 3 years ago. That could’ve been me’

But for the billions of other people Connie’s death would go unnoticed. As her story came to an end theirs would continue unimpeded by her unfortunate demise.

Yet however tragic this tale may be there are always other stories waiting to be told. Each life carries an infinite amount of possibilities. Inevitably, these stories all conclude in the same way…..with death.

Connie’s story ended as she drew her final breath alone, bleeding in that alley. It marked the final chapter of her tale. A story that to anyone who didn’t know her would seem unremarkable.

However, the story of what happened if Connie did not die in that alley….well that is a far greater story to tell.

Part Two >

The Needy Mule Presents: Excerpts From – The Battle Of The Scribes : A Tale of the Variants

We don’t talk about The Time Of The Scribes anymore.

They are now simply a footnote in our chaotic history; that is if we were allowed to write footnotes or indeed write anything. After the War the written word became virtually obsolete in these lands.

In the beginning there was just one Scribe who would every week produce parchments for the town folk to enjoy. Scriptures to amuse, to educate, to thrill. The people loved the offering from The Scribe.

Soon, there would be more Scribes and now the people of the town had a choice. Inevitably, such a choice would lead to division and subsequently it would end…..Well you know what happened next.

These Scribes became revered, worshipped. Everyone wanted to own those sacred parchments; they became the very symbol of status.

Yet there never were enough to go round. Despite the number of Scribes the demand for these sought after parchments were too great.

Every week on an oak table the offerings of The Scribes were laid out and the huge crowd that had gathered would rush to ensure they were able to get one. Invariably, a large number of the town would leave empty handed.

It hadn’t always been that way. When the First Scribe produced the original parchment it was seen as something of a curiosity. The people were happy to share and enjoy these texts together.

No one knows how these parchments became to be held in such high regard but when that happened, everything changed.

It begun in the local tavern where many folk would discuss the virtue of the latest offering from The Scribes.

Some would be quite vocal in preferring one Scribe over the other. Others would talk for hours about how one particular parchment is the most sacred of them all.

Night after night these heated discussions would occur upsetting the once harmonious balance of the town.

The conversations that took place in the tavern would spread across the town and soon people were on the hunt for the special, prized parchment.

Some would protect their prized parchment by encasing it in impenetrable material. Despite the cries of protest that no one will ever again be able to enjoy the sacred text ever again more and more people began to do it.

Others took a different approach. There were those in the town who did not care too much for The Scribes’ parchments. They would use the status that came with owning one to become rich.

It started with the odd sale at the Tavern but soon this market to buy pre owned parchments grew. Therefore, each week on the day after The Scribes had left their parchments, the people would make their way down to The Bay.

At The Bay, food and other precious commodities were exchanged for ownership of a precious parchment. The people of the town desperate to outbid each other in an attempt to increase their own status.

Whilst some would sell their prized parchment because they were poor and needed to feed their family others were more nefarious.

After The Scribes had been, those wishing to sell their parchment at the highest price possible would go to the Tavern and spread rumours that this week’s offering were the most sacred there had been.

As word spread large crowds would gather at The Bay desperate to own it. This would guarantee the owner a high return.

Indeed, such was the reward that people would scoop up as many parchments as they could to sell at The Bay.

Some argued that they just wanted to read the parchments, like everyone had done in the beginning, but their voices could not be heard over those who clambered to own a parchment with the sole intention of selling it at the highest price possible.

Others aware of the demand for these parchments would horde them away at their home; sometimes waiting for the right price or for that inevitable rainy day.

Attempts were made to resolve this problem. A kindly old gentleman would copy the parchments so that those who missed out could enjoy the text.

Initially, they were seen as a lesser parchment but soon those who now controlled The Bay were suggesting that even those reproductions had value due to being even more scarce. Soon no one could read them without paying a high price.

This continued for many years and every week more people would be unable to read the Scribes’ sacred parchments as initially intended. All the while, those who controlled The Bay got more powerful.

And then The Scribes stopped delivering parchments……….