Part 3 of 3
Read the full text, as well as the show notes, at http://flashpulp.com
Tonight, Will Coffin, Urban Shaman, and Bunny, his tipsy companion, find themselves overseeing a grisly scene at a rural farm - as well as the end of the flute playing woman.
Some days, gloomy, my hours are slumberless Dear is the shadows I live with by nonetheless Little white flowers will never awaken in Not where the bright culture's silence taken you Angels have no fire ever tuning you Would they be angry if I'd sort of join in you? Welcome to FlashPulp, episode 321 This evening we present The Cost of Living, Part 3 Cough it, at loose ends This week's episodes are brought to you by Nutty Bytes Wake up, go to work, work, come home Eat dinner, rot your brain out, go to bed Lather, rinse, repeat Are you tired of an old home drum life? Tired of things that just weigh you down and depress you? Wouldn't you rather just focus on things that are awesome? Tune into Nutty Bytes, find out what's awesome Nutty Bytes, nimlas.org/blog FlashPulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age Three to ten minutes of fiction, brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings Tonight, Will Coffin, Urban Shaman, and Bunny, his tipsy companion, find themselves overseeing a grisly scene at a rural farm As well as the end of the flute playing woman The Cost of Living, Part 3 Cough it, at loose ends Written by J.R.D. Skinner Art and narration by Poponex Are you produced by Justin? Coffin stood by the broad glass facing onto his apartment's balcony His eyes locked on something beyond Don's glare Deeper in the dwelling, on the far side of the bookshelves that lined the residences main hallway And behind a closed door, his roommate was snoring away a bottle of grey goose There was a note between his fingers, scrawled in a familiar hand The Will had been standing in that same position when the paper had been slid beneath the front entrance The old mute had already disappeared by the time he'd pulled it wide There'd be no point in waking bunny The retirement home, mentioned in the letter, wouldn't be open to visitors for hours yet And she might be quicker to corral out of the apartment, if she were closer to sober Shifting from one foot to the other, he waited for the grinding of motors And barking of full-bladder dogs that marked the city's first stirrings 14 hours later, Coffin and his tipsy companion were far to the north Will had not bothered to introduce the farmer by name, he knew his former client preferred the distance Still, the buzz-cut man had not said no to the Shannon's hurried request The land-owner had called the space his barn, but the interior was something more akin to a garage, adjoining an indoor scrapyard The cavernous corrugated tin walls sheltered the husks of tractors, trucks, fridges And machined fragments that, to bunny's eye, could have belonged to anything More importantly though, it housed a four-column car-pressure A windowless Volkswagen bug rested on the metal base, its long-lost headlights offering no assistance to the rows of fluorescence overhead The Japanese woman stood at the halfway mark between the sacrificial platform and the pair who'd driven her to the remote location The hem of pleated black skirt had dipped into the sawdust and sand that covered the floor, and she bent low to work away the dirt with her thin hands Even in her stooping, it was obvious her motions were well practiced, so as to not disturb the white sling she wore across her shoulder Christ, this seems like a little fucking harsh, bunny told her bottle of Captain Morgan's She'd been on hand when her friend had used his drinket to call forth a dead man in the retirement home Although he'd had his face largely chewed away, the apparition had wished to talk only about the flute-playing volunteer who'd often slip into his room and whisper to the cannibal in the bed adjacent to his own It had been one of the few times he had heard his bunkmate speak, possibly because he himself had been largely paralyzed by a stroke Still, the invalid had been aware enough of his surroundings to overhear their talk of human flesh and its preparation, and he'd been trapped with the secret for years, and it had taken his own death to be allowed the opportunity to tell it He'd been eager for further conversation when they'd left, but the lilting tune drifting from the game room had acted as reason enough to excuse themselves Bunny had not, however, been on hand when, after they'd managed to follow the slight musician to her suburban duplex, coffin had knocked and entered It was rare for Will to suggest she hang back for her own safety, and the drunk had not argued Fifteen minutes later he'd returned to the rented car with the woman in tow, and, without providing any explanation or chatter, had begun driving Now, with the generator roaring and the hydraulics anxious to be about their work, coffin, his eyes focused on a distant scrap heap and his lips taut nodded and asked, "Do you have any final requests?" The stranger's lips twitched upwards, but her cheeks grew warm and wet "I will dance for you," she replied Coughton's hand tightened around the arcane tool in his pocket, but he shrugged "I'm sure of what would come next," Bunny held the captain close The lines of the skirt bowed, and from beneath its folds extended eight black legs Jointed, spider-like limbs with finely pointed nail at the end of each Retrieving her flute from her bundle, the arachnid woman began to play Her movements carried her through the small sanded clearing with delicate care, and her nimble swaying disturbed no dust Briefly, the delicacy of the choreography and the gentle sweeps of the musical scale were enough to blot out the engine's roar in Bunny's ears The drunk was unsure if the honey'd rhythm was somehow getting to her, or if the rum had finally started to do its work But she was pleased to see her friend's face un-softened as the song came to a close It was not so much the grotesque proportions of the woman's unfurled body that disturbed her As the chittering sound the woman's mouth had begun to form around her woodwind And the toothy maw stretching that had been necessary to allow to do so As the dancer's skirt descended and became again hushed, Coughton said only, "Very beautiful" And Bunny found nothing on her lips but her bottle Replacing her instrument, the woman turned, entered the passenger side door of the rusted Volkswagen, and bowed her head "Where's that a goddamn baby in there?" asked Bunny, her eyes on the now bulging sling across the woman's neck Will answered by leaning to his left and depressing the large red button hanging from the ceiling above His companion had not seen the desiccated bodies wrapped tight in intricate webs And affixed to every flat surface of the beige walled duplex She had not seen the faces of those who had obviously struggled against their bonds until they died of dehydration Nor had she seen the results that had followed The shrinking of skin and drying of flesh that had prepared their bodies for the Jourogmos, the spider woman's consumption They were spared any sight of the woman's compression, but not of that which had resided within her bundle First four, then eight, then a dozen hair-filled digits began to work their way at the gap between the descending roof of the beetle and the resisting door In the final seconds, a fat red eye joined the scurrying legs of the woman's arachnid brood First it seemed to accuse that it quickly bulged gender-mechanical pressure, then simply smeared with crumpling metal When the machine was powered down and the silence of the country evening filled the shop, Bunny finally asked Sweet corn and crap, what the fuck was that? It was better than the alternative, setting her on fire In Japanese folklore, began coffin No, the bottle-welder interrupted I meant why did the boogie woman just walk under the newspaper all by herself? Well, said well, she lived for hundreds of years as the last of her kind And she knew she wouldn't even be that if someone found out who she was Even for being like that, it's tough to be alone That's why she was chatting up that cannibal But like she told me back at her place, how long can someone discuss cooking, especially with a cow? She'd been carrying those egg sacks around her neck for decades, and as far as she knew, they were never going to hatch Even the old folks home, which must have seemed like a fridge full of wisened TV dinners, it stopped having any allure Her loneliness stacked up, that's what put her in the seat Captain Morgan did a brief handstand, and then the quiet returned Finally, Bunny said "Well, shit, I'll have to start spreading some vicious gossip about that huge furry fucker living in the stairwell" Despite the scene before them, despite the unpleasant work of the day And even despite his own down nature, Will's throat gave out a single surprise laugh Reaching for the light switch, he replied I think I saw a dairy bar with a liquor license a few dozen miles back on the main road I'll buy you a shake Flashpulp is presented by Flashpulp.com, and is released under the Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 3.0 unported license Text and audio commentaries can be sent to comments@flashpulp.com, but be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast We'd also like to thank the FreeSound Project, found at freesound.org For a full listing of effects used during the show, as well as credits for the users who provided them, check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com And thanks to you for listening, if you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends [Music]
