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Muh fiction. Let me show you it.
I have written some fiction again. I wrote it for a bellringer actually. It evolved into this. I had been planing on writing a story for them. So it just spontaneously came up.
Title: Come On In My Kitchen
Author: Moi!
Pairings: Chas/Turner, implied Chas/Pherber, future Pherber/Lucy
Word Count: 2994
Rating: Bordering on soft R
Warnings: Drugs, slight language, obviously gay stuff, hallucinations, drug trips, wee bit of angst
Time Frame: 1968
Disclaimer: As far as I know, this DIDn’t happen, but the movie did. The title isn’t mine either, it belongs to Robert Johnson. I don’t own them, nor will they ever belong to me, unfortunately.
A/N: This movie is considered as the best British gangster film ever made. I’m just taking a stab at it right now. I wrote this for a bell ringer at school. It was a free write and I turned it from 65 words to this. The * is actually a real scene in the movie
On to it.
There was a lazy kind of heat in this basement. Cigarette’s lined the floor, some fresh with spit. His brown glazed eyes felt light as he stared at the dull glow of the candle light. He had no shirt on and he had on brown grimy unwashed jeans on.
Turner sat on a stool a few yards away, acoustic in his hands. His eyes were shimmering, pale with shadow under them. The candle light lined him with shadows, a god that had fallen to Earth and was now damned.
He was absently frolicking with a tune in his head. He moved his head around. Dark brown wavy hair was brushing into his face. .He stopped for a moment as a fly buzzed around his form, as though it were cautious.
“There goes another…” he said in his British accent.
Chas looked over at him. His bird-like wings’ hands rushing to his face. He wiped some of the sweat from his now tanned stained forehead.
“It’s so hot.” he slurred, the effects of Pherber’s ‘remedy juice’ still in his system. The wig he was wearing threatened to slide off his head. The humidity was choking. He screwed his face up and covered his eyes with his hand.
Turning his head, he looked at Tuner who was absently plucking. He narrowed his glassed eyes at him. He hated him. Everything about him. How he spoke in riddle, he hated it. How he walked, he hated it. How his aggressive androgyny turned him on and confused him at the same time. How he held a cigarette, how he dressed, he hated it.
Chas sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. He glowered at the bed. The bed that Pherber and Turner rolled around in dancing to their own music. The way they wove musical notes together and he was feeling it. He looked back at Turner who was muttering to himself and plucked chords.
He merely grunted and stared at Turner’s prone for. One woman could come and make him forget this. The drinks and food that Pherber supplied did wonders and it terrified him at the same time.
Turner had abruptly stopped. He looked up to the ceiling and let the guitar drop to the floor like a lifeless body. He let out a huff and crossed his thin arms over his torso and got up to pad shoeless around the dirty, grimy floor.
“What’s your problem, eh?” Chas’ voice cut through the frustrations of Turner’s head.
Turner stopped and turned around. He stared at Chas through blue eyes and he had an amused expression.
A door could be heard creaking open. Footsteps creaked down the hall, echoing in both of their ears. Mussed blond had famed a face. Dark circle under the person’s eyes. She barred her miss-aligned teeth in a stoned stupor. Dull blue eyes had looked out at both.
She had delights. A bag of mushrooms and a cup of clear liquid swirling like a tide pool. Shaking her head to move her blond hair our of her face, she sat them down.
“Didn’t think anyone would take to this place.” She said in an Italian-ish accent as she looked around the room.
“Well he did, didn’t he?” Turner’s voice was lyrical and some-what deadpan filtered into the room. “I have to say that this place seems more lively with our new house guest, wouldn’t you think?” he said expectantly.
Chas opened his eyes, feeling hazy. The mascara Pherber had put on him gave a feather light feel to the room. Pherber and Turner were talking. He heard his name slide casually off Turner’s tongue to disappear into the hazy air.
He raised his hooded brown eyes to Turner. He had turned his head to the ‘treats’ that Pherber had brought down. The lure seemed to call to him. The hair from the wig in his eyes, he brushed them out of his face.
“Does he have a problem with me? I thought he would like it down here, that one.”.
He heard Turner’s voice come through. Like it? He glanced back at him. He half rose to see Turner walk towards a stack of machines, more as glide towards it. He didn’t fiddle around with it like he normally would, or pick up and dance with a glowing pole.
“Hey!” A much younger voice had crashed into the hall. Lucy was leaning heavily in the doorway at the top. Her brown short thickly curled hair was messy. She had a scarf wrapped around her neck. She had toast in her hand and a cup of water in the other. Pherber had looked up towards Lucy.
“What are you doing down there in the dark?” She said whimsically, an innocence was played into her voice that she used when she was curious. Her British accent was very clear.
“Nothing Lucy. I’ll be up there in a minute, ‘kay dear?”
A noise of agreement came from her as she turned away, her shadow following, Pherber had turned around, sandy blond hair swaying into her face as she slowly walked towards Chas, She picked up the bag and opened it. Hazy brown eyes are trained on he approaching form. She makes an “ahhh” sound as she places the mushroom on his tongue. She stood up and turned to the liquid she brought,
“No Pherber,” say’s Turner, ”I’ll do that. Would you mind now?”
“Alright. Don’t give ‘im too much, don’t want him freaking out like last time again now do we?” She said over her shoulder as she descended the stairs. As the door closed, Turner comes closer to the liquid. He looks into the glass to see the liquid. He grins and looks back at Chas.
“Look at these colors eh?” he said with a grin on his face, dark brown hair brushing against his narrow, but broad thin shoulders.
Chas didn’t see the colors. In fact, he only saw the clear liquid in the cup. The bed shifted under Turner’s weight, sending a tremor through Chas’ body. The cup was held in his face.
“You don’t see he colors? How can you not? Your mind isn’t focused on it.” he pointed to the cup.
The bed shifted again. As Chas rose half way, he saw Turner disappear into the space with the machines. He crouched down and crushed his hands across the small knobs. He had set the liquid down and focused on the knobs. He looked back at Chas and started for him, small synthesizers making noise.
“How can you not? It’s there!” he said lyrically. He twirled a little. The music had slid through the room, bouncing off the walls and sliding through their ears. It dripped from the synthesizers and wound itself tightly in their ears.
“There,” he said, “there it is! You can’t feel it? Open yourself!”. He swiftly walked towards Chas, and water in his hand, He placed it at Chas’ lips and gave him a drink. Chas’ eyes had glossed over again as he coughed some.
“I… don’t see it.” he said, as if afraid that Turner would deem him wrong.
“You have to open up, my dear boy.”
He stared at Turner. A slow easy grin appeared on Turner’s face. He swayed, under the influence of whatever drug he was on. The water that Turner gave him was taking effect. It seemed as the world was molting. Turner seemed like an angel, but tainted.
The world twisted and turned. Color’s exploded from Turner’s body and clashed together.
Turner come closer, swaying brown hair swiveled around his head like water. His thin ands whirling around his body. He fell onto the bed. Chas has jumped off the bed. He stood and turned back to Turner.
His mind was swirling in a haze of hallucinations and colors, but something clicked in his mind. Turner had hair all over his eyes and shoulders. Hands were out over the bed. His long sleeved shirt was down his shoulders, exposing china doll skin. He had beautiful skin. The way it gleamed in the soft dull candle light.
Beautiful? He just called Turner beautiful.
He stared at his prone form. He saw how he was laid out. His cupid lips were moving, but no sound came out. To Chas, it was all the more closer with Pherber. To see what quality that makes her stay with him. His large cherub lips kept moving, still no sound.
He took steps forward, but he tripped onto the bed, his mind wasn’t clear, so he had hit the edge and went forward. He didn’t feel the bed. He felt as though he were floating in space.
He looked up and saw Turner’s hand. He crawled up to eye level with him and laid on his back. He looked back down at Turner’s hand and gripped it with his own. He brought Turner’s hand to grip with both of his hands.
“Pretty,” he mumbled, “So pretty.”
Turner’s eyes were on him. Sweat had formed on his face from the heat. It stuck to everything and had settled in. His eyes flickered down briefly his enclosed hand, then looked back up at Chas. His own stoned eyes had locked with Chas’. He tugged at his own and Chas only gripped it tighter.
--
Lucy sat back in her chair. The soft sunlight had padded it’s way into the kitchen. Pherber had been fiddling with the dishes in the sink.
Lucy stared out in vacant eyes as she thought about their recent house guest. Shifting to sit on her other knee, she had looked back to Pherber.
“Hey Pherber?” she asked curiously, “How long do you think that man is going to be staying here?” she asked it with that same child-like innocence she use..
“That’s not for me to decide,” she said as a matter of fact, “it’s for Turner to decide.”
“But what does he want with ‘im?” she inquired.
“Well, you see,” she said as she put more dishes away, nearly dropping one in the process, “it’s what Turner wants. Something in Chas interest him. He just knows.”
“D’ya mean like love interest?”
“I’m not sure bout that, but he knows something.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“But to Turner, it makes all the sense.”
Pherber came to the table and sat down with a cigarette. Feeling the soothe of nicotine, she leaned back. Lucy finished up her eggs and walked towards the sink.
“Aye, Pherber?”
“What is it?”
“What if,” she briefly hesitated, “Turner actually likes ‘im?”
Pherber turned and looked at Lucy. The way the light hit he made her look ethereal She looked beautiful. Shaking her head out of those thoughts, she leaned forward.
“Well, then it would leave us out. Turner’s just messin’ with ‘im, he doesn’t have any, and if he did, then something might have gone wrong with his plans.” She took a drag of her cigarette. ”Oh well.” She let out a puff of nicotine smoke.
Lucy thought n that, She sat back and put her finger on her chin.
“Well that’ll make things more interesting if it happens, then?”
Pherber tapped her cigarette in a tray, lined with cigarette’s, some had been painted red around the end’s like a whore. She stubbed it out in the tray with some nameless picture at he bottom.
Lucy had gotten up and headed for the basement door. Pherber looked up and halted Lucy.
“Lucy,” she said lazily, “y’know that Turner doesn’t like it when people interrupt him.”
She turned back to Pherber, but Pherber just gave her a look that said “Don’t ask questions, just do it.”. She stepped back. With one last curious glance at the door, she had stepped back and walked out of the kitchen, She felt Pherber’s eyes on her back like the sunlight. Her nervous feelings inside was an out of control orchestra, each more out than the other.
It felt… strange. To be nervous around Pherber and being nervous was something she was not used to. It began when they took a bath together. She, Pherber, and Turner. She sent much time looking at Pherber, not Turner. She admired her body as though it was a painting on a canvas. The colors painted in the perfect spots. Lines perfect as they blended into Pherber’s form..
Lucy had been thinking about that day more and more each day. It started to become worse than when they would wake up from the after affects from the ‘goodies’ they took, even the downers.
She had decided to leave it alone, opting to deal with it later.
--
Chas could feel Turner tugging on his own arm. Chas could feel his own arm tightening around Turner’s. In a little as a few seconds, Chas had rolled over and trapped Turner under his body. Chas didn’t really know what he was doing. Everything was moving faster than his mind could process, like a skipping vinyl record.
He looked down at Turner, who’s eye’s were dilated and his mouth had stopped moving. Through half lidded eyes, he gazed upwards, his mind caught up in the images that poured into his mind.
Chas watched, fascinated by how Turner’s was filtering away. His body was slightly glowing white and his eyes were very blue, like e trapped the ocean in them. Then his body started to fade, the light leaving him. He dove forward, afraid he’ll disappear. Forever. Turner’s eyes widened as Chas threw himself at him like when asteroids come. Everything moved so fast. A blur of images, lights exploding, the beating of drums, the hot air. He felt the light envelop him. It exploded all over his body. His light then started to morph.
He watched as it took shape. Light turned to dark brown and the ocean into almonds, to blue circles. Light turned pale, and felt physical. It felt soft and solid. Pressing against…
His mind just processed that he was holding Turner. His hand was buried in his long wavy brown hair . His arm was around Turner’s thin, almost feminine waist. He felt warm moisture on his lips. Something wet them. He opened his eyes.
He was kissing Turner. He pulled back. Chas stared back almost in shock. He saw Turner’s face and saw Turner’s eyes open. They were half lidded. Turner felt so lethargic in his arms, but his hands gripped him tight. Turner looked back up at Chas. He raised his slender hands and reached up to pull the wig off he was wearing. It slid off and exposed short hair, dyed red with paint. He attentively reached up to stroke his hair.
Things moved so fast. Clothes were cast into lonely pools on the floor. They made their own music. Their own performance. Musical notes played from their mouths. It caressed their beings and into their ears. Chas as the leading conductor and Turner as the following orchestra.
The musical exploded into a climax of notes. It died down as the orchestra halted into their last notes.
His damp shoulder wavy brown hair was sticking to his shoulders, neck, and forehead. He reached out from his position and stroked Chas’ hair. He remembered how he treated Chas. How Chas freaked out when he thought Turner and Pherber had poisoned him. It sent a strange pang through his chest.
He lit another cigarette and turned away to stub it out. He felt his mind flaking out and a slight pain in his backside. He put his long sleeved shirt back on and laid back down beside Chas.
--
*He twitched. He reached a hand up to his eyes and rubbed them. He brushed the sand man’s sand from the corner of his eyes and looked over. Turner lay like a devil, disguised as Sleeping Beauty. He reached out and circled an arm around him. Turner’s eyes creaked open and he raised up onto his elbow.
He looked at Chas as one of his sleeves slid down his shoulder. They both stared. Neither could believe that this happened. Their orchestra now had been set off, the conductor not there to quiet he instruments.
