Quite some time ago, Ann, or Madame Defarge, or Lily, Rosemary and the Ann of Hearts won
my Movie Said What?
competition. Traditionally (both times), I've written commemorative posts
for the winner. Ann has waited patiently for her drivel, and now she gets two sets, with a difference, however.
This time a curious gentleman by the name of "Omar Dink" will be the author of these tales. Just as I was sitting down to write something about Ann's friendship with a dog named Chudley who is the ugliest son of a bitch in the rescue home but understands her on a level that makes her feel human again, a desperate hammering fell upon my door. Falling into my room came Mr Dink with a demonic gleam in his eye, a sinister twitch in his lips, and a horrific scar bisecting his face (which, even without the scar looked like it had been melted, reformed, then torched again) diagonally that throbbed violently. The circumstances may have been playing tricks upon me but I swear that when I looked directly at the scar it seemed to have no bottom to it, and a faint orange glow shimmered somewhere in its depths.
He demanded that he write the post for Lily, claiming no knowledge of this Ann creature, and claimed that he had to make things right with her, but also had a score to settle. His face was a contorted portrait of a man who simultaneously needs to satisfy an insatiable hunger to deliver furious vengence and receive the ointment of forgiveness with the same blow. His face and demeanor grew calm as he sat down to write, but beneath his eyes two storms were swelling and he rocked back and forth like a small boat on a vast ocean before it succumbs violently to the horrific forces of nature. He ordered me out while he wrote, and I fear for what may be about to be spewed forth...
Lily woke from yet another fitful slumber, her limbs entangled in her duvet depicting the serene azure depths of the Mediterranean against a clear and cloudless summer sky. The night had provided nothing but deceptions throughout when all she had been trying to do was to wrap herself in a cocoon of silence.
Outside her window she could hear the noise of children playing and stampeding up and down..."Jesus", Lily thought, "can't they just tread a little lighter?". Opening the window she called out to them "Look kids, don't care if you hop, skip, jump, or run, just get away from my damn window". Looking up at her the kids gave her a withering look before telling her that if she was looking for the cause of her unrest, then she better keep looking because it sure as hell wasn't them. The oldest, a cocksure teenager even had the temerity to call her babe.
They were right. The noise and hub bub seemed to centre around the well. People, as well as various animals gathered round it, craning to see something that had fallen down it. A horse and cart randomly trotted by making a horrendous din on the cobbled stones. Lily thought for a second, then remembered the missing cat posters Ms Wolf had posted around town and realised that the search had probably come to an end with the sight that greeted her eyes.
Turning away, Lily stood in front of the mirror. Her eyes were like shallow graves when before one had shone like a star on the blackest night and the other like diamond from the depths of the pacific. She had never appreciated the way they had sparkled before as she had never wanted them in the first place and had given them away for just one kiss. Now that was over, and she didn't even have anything to put on her feet. She was waiting though, she was waiting.
It had been years since Lily had felt right...5 years to be precise when she had been on the verge of greatness as part of a group, a gang, a team. Predicting the mind of a poet may be akin to searching for one particular snowflake in a blizzard but she had done it, done it well. Lily had been so good in fact that she had almost been crowned Queen of the Pool but had been beaten out of it by someone from the Queen's own land. She was cheered home by her family of Rat Bastards, Ed, Lightbulb, Shatner and Dink, they felt her pain but proclaimed they would always know her as the Queen of Hearts. Time went by and the band went their own separate ways, never knowing when or where they see each other again.
Lily had not been right since.
She had tried to fill her time by being an agent for dogs needing new homes. Lily had always been a kind soul and was a frequent visitor to the dog shelter. She had one client, Chudley, who was an affectionate chap but who never really stood a chance as he was so desperately ugly. Lily had in fact tried shaving his arse and teaching him to walk backwards but this had revealed an even darker horror which had made her cry. Never the less, Chudley and Lily were firm friends till the time when "Chudders" caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and he had died of terror his*
legs twitching in the air.
Things were even worse than the time she had been lost in some place in Alabama with nothing but an Elvis sings the blues CD to keep her company. At least she'd been able to call her mama.
Then Ed and Shatner had turned up, wild and crazed like before, calling her to arms again as the poet was on the move. They had to act quickly as there was only a day till he left and after that it would be impossible to follow. Lily took to the streets straight away, a call was put out for Dink and Lightbulb but were received only by the wind.
The trio set off minus two, knowing not what fate had in store for them. Ed and Shatner mourned for their lost friends, and hoped that their paths would meet next time the poet stopped. Lily on the other hand, fueled by rage, pity, and an emptiness in her heart roared "Fuck those guys, we can't look to the past...". The words soared up into the night, echoed through the canyons, over streams and rivers to be carried away into oblivion.
Or so their originator thought.
Far away Dink had received the message too late. He had been in the midst of tracking down his quarry, his countryman who had defeated Lily at the last in the previous quest. Dink never spoke of what he had done to achieve this, but his face spoke of a soul who cried out only to have one too many mornings to his name and who was owned a lifetime of the darkest nights. All Dink would say, in tones that picked the chords of hell, was that "Z" would not be seen on the top 100 board again.
He watched the depleted band from afar, his brow furrowed etching woeful canyons across his forehead. No matter how hard he tried to get close, he was always a million miles away. He had not given much to the team last time, but at least he had given. All he could cling to was that next time they met, he would be able to help them all as much as he could...Then he heard the words of treachery pierce through the night sky, as fierce and true as an arrow: