Part 1 of 1
Read the full text, as well as the show notes, at http://flashpulp.com
Tonight, we present a chiller tale of conversion, communication, and cataclysm.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP227 - Close, Part 1 of 1
[♪♪♪] Welcome to FlashPulp Episode 227. This evening, we present Close, Part 1 of 1. This week's episodes are brought to you by the Saturday Bee Movie Real podcast. [♪♪♪] Hi, this is Kevin Batchilder. And this is the Saturday Bee Movie Real. This up! Shoot it! Shoot it! [laughter] That's about the scribes that death. Alright, everybody stay here. We look specifically at the sci-fi channel's original movies. You know the ones. The ones that air on Saturday night. Be known throughout the ages as an instant classic. [laughter] We did a better getter! A limb cutting and blood squirting from her. Flying limbs, like, rolled out of my nose. What could go wrong? We look on a regular basis at the movies as they come out. And since they've been over 200 of them, we do go back and look at many of them that are now out on DVD. [♪♪♪] At this point, I completely forgotten. An semblance of seeing if this actually makes any sense from a plot point of view. So come on by, get involved, and have some fun. Check us out at SaturdayBMovieReal.com. Our future depends on it. Make it safe. Flash pulp 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, we present a chiller tale of conversion, communication, and cataclysm. Close, part one of one. Written by JRD Skinner. Art and narration by Opoponax. An audio produced by Jessica May. [♪♪♪] "Get back in here and let me hold you," said Bradley Owens. He'd slept poorly as his dreams had been filled with the sound of snapping bones and Nora Rhodes, his girlfriend, was attempting to console him while adjusting her suit jacket at the bedroom's full-length mirror. "I'm really sorry about your nightmares, monkey. I'm getting worried about you. You should see Dr. Henley." "Nah, I'm fine," he replied from the bed. "It's only happened since you got back from Canada, so maybe my brain is telling me. It's time to trek you into a wedding." "Why don't you call in sick and catch a nap? Watch some prices, right?" "Hey, we can't all be oil tycoons. We've got bills to pay." In truth, his call center employment covered little of his expenditure. It was Nora's progression onto the lower rungs of Shell's management ladder that paid the majority of the couple's debts. "I can spot you some cash for your half of rent, sugar daddy," she said. "You should just quit anyhow and accept my offer as full-time jiggle-o." Her smile was enough to finally make Bradley sit up. He threw back the sheets in invitation. "Oh, I was just kidding," she replied. "I've got meetings about the Northern Project. Perhaps you are all right for work, though." He chased her to the door and kissed her goodbye. In the early hours of the following Thursday, Owens was brought awake through the agitation of a repeated poke to his chest. He hadn't moved at first, thinking it was another strange dream, but the prodding persisted. The couple were spooning beneath their white comforter, making it impossible for Bradley to visually confirm what his tactile senses appeared to be telling him. That Nora's ribs were shifting beneath the surface, and rearranging themselves about her spinal cord. He jerked away. "What's wrong, monks?" came Nora's sleepy voice. He didn't reply, and her breathing soon returned to its slumbering rhythm. Once confident that she would remain asleep, he crept to the couch and pulled a decorative Navajo blanket over his cold legs. He'd fallen asleep rehearsing his conversation, but in the daylight, he felt his claim seemed stupid. Instead, he sheepishly answered Nora's questions by saying that he'd been disturbed by a nightmare, and had thought a change of rooms might help. After the second night of such behavior, she made him a doctor's appointment. A week later, they were nibbling pancakes at the breakfast table. It was rare that Nora had an opportunity to sample her boyfriend's cooking, and she was working hard to enjoy it. Still, she was impressed at the effort. "The pills must be helping," she said. "You look sharp today. Not too often that I'm lounging in my PJs while you're all put together and ready to face the world." Henley had been more than happy to prescribe Bradley a tub of ambient, and they'd briefly given him respite. But the idea of what might be happening during his unconscious hours had begun to haunt his waking thoughts. Even as he watched her eat, he wondered if the flexing in her neck was the result of her chewing or a secret transformation taking place beneath her skin. Having finished watching the cookware, making the bed and sweeping the kitchen floor, the infrequent chef approached the small round table they'd picked out together at IKEA and stated his intentions in a single exhalation. "You're wonderful, and I love you. It's all me, but things are fucking weird, and I can't handle it anymore. Goodbye." He was closing the door behind him, before Nora could muster a reply. By Saturday, Bradley's friend Miguel was considerably less friendly, and Miguel's couch was seeming considerably less comfortable. As he'd staggered from a shift, he'd only taken to avoid having to deal with Miguel's girlfriend. The heavy-hearted call center employee attempted to clear his head, and considered his immediate options. A quarter-hour wait would put him on a bus back to the un-orthopedic sofa, but a half-hour wait would send him towards the nearest movie theater. When Nora pulled up to the curb some ten minutes later, he was still standing at the stop undecided. "Hi," she said. He turned, and a smile briefly lit his face, then he reversed a step. "Hey," he replied. They both silently watched as a red hatchback passed. "I missed you," said Nora, once the vehicle's taillights had disappeared around the corner. "I don't want you to think of it as a bribe, but I'd already bought them before you left." And they're non-refundable. She produced a folding pamphlet, inside of which were two tickets for a carnival cruise to tour the Alaskan coast. He shuffled the paperwork around for a moment, but no words seemed to come to his lips. His considerations were cut short by the 85 Express's screeching tires. "Let me think about it," he answered, mounting the steps that would take him back to the cramped couch. While he stared into the knotted hair of the whiskey-smelling homeless woman in the next seat, he made up his mind. He'd never seen the Pacific, and his memories were fuzzy now. They were likely just bad dreams. And besides, he missed her. The doctor's pills served Bradley well the first night, and a day's worth of champagne consumed while walking about the ship had left Bradley feeling warm and comfortable. His manic need to explore, combined with his early call to drink, had left him exhausted by supper, and the pair had finally retreated to the balcony on their private suite. He was the first time beside their quick fade into unconsciousness the night previous that they were alone in the cabin. Falling into old patterns, Bradley pulled off his shirt. At odd times throughout the day, he'd caught whiffs of Nora's perfume on the salty breeze, and the liquor had deadened the remainder of his inhibitions. "Are you sure?" she asked. "We haven't really talked about anything." "You seemed so confident about leaving." "I missed you," he replied. Nora stood for a moment, biting her lip, then turned. "I feel crusty," she said. "I need a shower. Make sure you're sure while I'm gone." When she returned, he was nude and passed out under the sheets. Dropping her towel, she crawled into bed beside him and turned out the light. As they slept, Bradley's hand found its way about her belly. Over time, his body shifted itself from habit until he was holding her close. He awoke suddenly with his chest aching as if he'd been punched. He pushed away from her, with a moan, but his hand encountered a gooey mass where he'd expected solid ribs. He was reminded of childhood experiences with Plato as his fingers sunk into her back. Before he could retreat, he felt a tearing as pliable flesh seemed to snag against bone, and the bed was suddenly filled with a warm gush of liquid. The couple leapt to their feet, both now fully awake. Nora's flesh hung as if empty. Her bone structure had been greatly compacted, so that only her shoulders and hips gave her width, and her flapping husk moved like damp cloth and a high wind as she began weeping. "What the hell?" asked Bradley. "I thought you knew," she replied. "I thought you were fighting for us. I mean, the changes were so obvious. You never wanted to talk about it, so I figured you were nobly trying to fucking deal with it. I may not understand what's happening, but I know I love you." He could not hear her response through his panic. As she approached, seeking comfort, he packed away, until he found himself against the sliding balcony door. Unthinking, he opened it, and continued his slow escape. While he could retreat no further, she closed the distance with her spindle arms bowed and grasping. The sharp prod of cartilage and the feeling of being smothered in a blanket of loose skin made damp by the seamist was enough to throw Bradley's mind into a frenzy. In attempting to disengage from her, however, he found himself falling through the air. His descent was stopped in a cold splash. Bradley's body tensed at the shock, and he realized he was sinking into the frigid waters, his mouth filled with the taste of salt. A pinching hand closed around his own, and seconds later he felt Nora's strength pull him to the surface. As he gasped for breath, he drew her close, seeking her warmth amongst the frothing chill of the ocean. Flashpulp is presented by flashpulp.com, and is released under the Canadian Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 2.5 license. Text and audio commentaries can be sent to skier@skinner.fm or the voicemail line at 206-338-2792, but be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast. We'd also like to thank the free sound 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, please check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. [Music]