Pointy Eyes Shine In The Dark - Finish The Story Contest. Week #52

Pointy Eyes Shine In The Dark

by @f3nix

"Auntie Masha‘ n the God’s Mistakes / every day on FRINGE -FM! / We will lure them, interview them / fun and tortures never end! "

The radio anchor's words glide over the frantic notes of the jingle like an old rusted Cessna.

"We're still here! I know, my lobotomized listeners, you too are amazed that your beloved auntie is still broadcasting on the frequencies of... "

"Stop with the preambles, old wino!" The voices of the three God's Mistakes recall a misplaced cross between Smeagol and the Chipmunks. In the studio, plastered with purple sound-proofing cones, the three animated puppets stare at Masha with lusty and murderous eyes. In a quick flash, the radio host instinctively thinks about the many crossroads of her life.

"Let's all welcome the most annoying and useless voices in the whole history of radio broadcasting from Edison to nowadays. Don't interrupt me, at least not at the beginning of the program, damn puppets..."

"...Cursed the stoned producer who wanted you," the host adds a quick note in her mind.

"Hey granny, we are co-hosts, not voices.” The felt creatures stand assertively.

"As we said, my bizarre radio listeners, here we are at our usual appointment with Masha's spicey interviews. Today we have an exceptional guest who certainly does not need introductions: directly from Berlin, Kurt Kükenvernichter, the one who returned metal music to the wide public. You know, Kurt, that auntie won't allow you to exit this studio without you having confessed at least some sordid and succulent secret.” The presenter begins to press. "For starters, we want to know how you managed to convert post-millennials around the world to your music."

Meanwhile, it seems that Kurt has decided to ignore the presentation. The round sound of his flask's stopper popping is not even captured by the microphone that already the singer has gulped down a sip of grog, dark and thick like tar. He slowly approaches the loudspeaker and greets his fans - especially the female ones - with a bronze baritone voice.

"Anyway, I never converted anyone. In these shitty times, I saw an empty throne and sat there."

"Aha. Sure. On thrones, photos of you collapsed on a toilet have been leaked from the net in the last few days. It is said to have been an exclusive party in Miami. Not exactly an image in line with the Kurt we all know. Do you want to deny or give us some clarification?” If radio frequencies could take shape, listeners would now see a scythe.

"They are all ... I was saying ... hhhhh ... it's all a pathetic charade!" The shrill voice of a clown who sniffed early-morning helium extrudes from the singer's throat as from an occluded sphincter.

"What the fuck was that?" Auntie Masha leaps in shock from the chair. The God’s Mistake for once are silent, overwhelmed by a more absurd voice than theirs and looking at each other with lost pointy eyes.

Time is strange on radio and silence represents an abomination against nature. Five interminable seconds pass before the host manages to recover and decides to send the advertisement break. Kurt has already thrown himself out of the studio, making shrill desperate blows. In fading out, a coarse puppet's laugh resounds.


In the loft, the thick curtains are still those of the old printing works. The late rays of the sun filter through the large dirty windows together with the sounds of the offices being emptied. A man wrapped in black leather and studs is spread on a padded velvet chaise long while, at the end of the room, another figure sits composed giving him his back.

"You see, Doctor, my voice is everything, why did it start to betray me? I can't understand what's happening to me. I feel violated by a dark and perverse part of myself. Under this thick layer of metal, there is a sensitive heart and I don't think I can stand this anymore."

As he confesses, Kurt hears a little music coming from behind the back of the chair. It looks like something already heard.

"Doctor?"

"Isn't this riff I just invented beautiful?" Asks the therapist to the air with a gloating triumph note in his voice. Kurt pokes his head out and sees him fiddling with a tiny electric ukulele.

"Actually I think it's Smoke On The Water, Doc."

The chair snaps in a flash of lightning. "Kurt, I have the solution but it won't be easy and requires your blind trust in me." Dr. Machete smiles as a strange light moves through his eyes. Struck by dusty beams of light, he looks like a sly Cheshire Cat.


My Ending

He thought for a moment.

"It's okay, Doc."

Dizzy, he looks at his almost empty bottle and takes another sip. "I need another one of these, doc" picking up the bottle of grog.


With his gaze full of malice, he completely closes the curtain and passes him another bottle of grog.

"It is possible that your problem is of mental origin, I need to know more details that have marked your life, I must determine if it is necessary to make a hypnosis or another method of alteration of states of consciousness, to change the cause of all this.”
As he stroked the ukulele, his twisted smile peeps out.

"Shit, I don't get it, doc... I feel kind of weak"
and he drank more of his drink.

Suddenly an unexplainable laugh is heard at the place "Trust me Kurt, I know what I'm doing, I'm used to these jobs".

"Ok Doc, ...my father was a nobody, he always said to me lazy, because I spent it in the street singing, my mother instead made me feel like a king, I decided to listen only to the voice of my mother, and I sent the rest of my family to hell ..."



"Uh, you were so lonely, how did you get to fame?"
"for my natural talent" as he laughs like a smug teenager.
"I kissed a few butts, saw an empty throne and sat there."

He wakes up staggering from side to side.
"Doctor?"
"No matter what we get out of this
I know, I know we'll never forget “

The Doctor sang softly, looking out the window through a small space in the curtain.
"Sit down" he grabs him by the arm.

"Relax, with this method I am accessing your memories and if necessary i will enter your unconscious memory. We can not continue in the same, time runs out. You know Kurt, nobody is perfect, we all make mistakes, sometimes there can be big debts, an overweight because of guilt, maybe you have something to tell me about it”

It seemed like a repeated chapter, his voice a little tired, routine, but with a fresh smile because of how much fun it all was doing to his.

"Doctor, maybe it's the guilt that won't let me sing well..."

"Tomorrow doesn't matter
I'm going with the queen of the place,
You'll be mine until dawn
And then I'll disappear like smoke."

The doctor's loud laughter is heard all over the room, trying to disguise his euphoria. "Stop, stop, don't sing, tell me, I'll help you"

"I had a party a few weeks ago in Miami, I had too many drinks, I smoked as much as I could, I fucked a few whores, the detail is that I woke up with one of those lying on my bed..., dead doc, shit, dead".

And the laughter of a thick puppet resounds all over the place.

The door opens and Masha's pointy Eyes shine in the dark.

The End
by @vida-blanca

The fragment of the song that Kurt sings is of my authorship, what the Doctor sings is a piece of the song of Deep Purple, Smoke on the water. I really enjoyed the version I wrote, I hope you liked it as much as I did. Any comments or observations please don't hesitate to write it, I'll appreciate it very much.

The people of @bananafish with their contest Finish The Story Contest - Week #52! motivates us to imagine a story, feel and express ourselves through writing.

Source

Source of the image used: Adaptation made from: original source


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Ooo this is a good ending, the doctor/therapist getting to grips with the depths of Kurt's mind, trying to dig out the root of his problem. The build up of intention is wonderful, at first the Doctor seems like he might have another agenda, the way he closes the curtain and the hint that the grog may be drugged and you leave that open for the reader to decide. The way the doctor laughs at Kurts attempt to sing, what a wonderful touch and to tie it back into the party mentioned in the first half at the end is such a clever way to make this a complete story, it is an enjoyable read. And i particularly like how you end it, you open a physical door to reveal auntie masha, which opens a metaphorical door in terms of meaning in this story, giving weight to so many more possible interpretations than a singer chatting to his therapist. Very well done, and then this line:

You know Kurt, nobody is perfect, we all make mistakes, sometimes there can be big debts, an overweight because of guilt

Couldn't have said a truer word. <3

Thank you very much calluna, I sincerely awaited your comments, they are very useful for me, jejejejejejejejejejejejejejejejejejejejejeje I am getting used to it. Thank you!

Competition has been getting tough nowadays and there, to me, seems like some formatting and grammatical issues. But I sensed it might be poem-like the dialogue and the mentioning of the unconsciousness (and what @calluna points out in her comment~). Anywho, poem time!~ (o^^o)

- Nieprzytomność -


Doctor, Doctor!~
I got a problem!
Doctor, Doctor!~
I call from below~

Doctor, Doctor!~
My mind says one-
Doctor, Doctor!~
-Then say another~

Doctor, Doctor!~
Fix me up alright!
Doctor, Doctor!~
Make a new one!

Doc- Come fix me!
-tor- up from this!
Doc- Crooked form!
-tor- I manifest in!!!!~

Thank you for a great story, Vida-Blanca! By the way, as we in the Bananafish love our grog, I was smiling when it appeared in your story.
😁

At first the reader is leery of Doc Machete, with his 'eyes full of malice' and there's a building feeling that he doesn't have good intentions in store for Kurt. After Kurt awakens from either too much grog or maybe a sedative that was slipped in, the singing from the doc lulls him enough to open up. Delving into Kurt's history and eventually the tie in from the beginning with the party gave us more depth into the vocally afflicted man and the whys behind his behavior. Then your ending with the horrific discovery of the dead woman in his bed and the creepy puppet laughter leaves a reader with chills. We're left to draw our own conclusions and wonder at Kurt's fate.

"It is possible that your problem is of mental origin, I need to know more details that have marked your life, I must determine if it is necessary to make a hypnosis or another method of alteration of states of consciousness, to change the cause of all this.”

One thing I would like to suggest is to perhaps split any lengthy sentences into two or three separate ones. Maybe completing the sentence following the words 'your life' and then the rest as a second one would keep it from feeling 'overloaded' with information. Simply meant as a suggestion as we all like to be of assistance to each other as we sail through the waters of fiction together. 😊

Thank you again for such an enjoyable read!
~Bris

Thank you for the recommendation, I am attentive to all, to go improving.

Hello @vida-blanca, thank you for sharing this creative work! We just stopped by to say that you've been upvoted by the @creativecrypto magazine. The Creative Crypto is all about art on the blockchain and learning from creatives like you. Looking forward to crossing paths again soon. Steem on!

Thank you very much

There's still 3 hours left to cast your votes for your favorite story in Finish the Story Contest's 53rd edition brave storyteller! Three votes are needed to activate the popular vote category prizes and our potassium deity would love to bestow the enhanced blessings upon one of the writers in our fintastical tribe!

Have a terrific day and happy Steeming! 😎

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