|The Chambers of a Pistol
Author: Overthrow The King PM
Pistol has always had a fascination with cryptids and the paranormal, along with his Russian lover and partner, Rosashia. However, a call comes, she leaves, and Pistol is on a case by himself. Strange phone calls, a death-wish mystery he'll try to solve, and a supernatural romance? Please listen to warning: There will be gay love later, and 'unique' love. NOT!Vampires Ugh.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Supernatural - Words: 3,080 - Published: 08-01-12 - id: 3046915
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Summary: Pistol has always had a fascination with cryptids and the paranormal, along with his Russian lover and partner, Rosashia. However, a call comes, she leaves, and Pistol is on a case by himself. Strange phone calls, a death-wish mystery he'll try to solve, and a supernatural romance? Please listen to warning: There will be gay love later, and 'unique' love. NOT!Vampires (Ugh.)
Author's Note: No fancy words, no word magic, just a story I'm enjoying writing, and if you enjoy it too, tell me why.
The Chambers of a Pistol
A Black Guardian Angel, With the Mirror Reflection of a White Demon
A Search for a Man Who Sees From his Chest, Not His Head
And the Fallen of The Sky
Chapter One: The Bullet Chamber
It was one of the moister times of the years in the usually cottonmouth dry air. One of the most boring. One of the most annoying. The only signs of life being a smack at a pesky mosquito on slithers of skin then the smearing of it on khaki pants."This has got to be one of the less believable cases we've ever done." Another smack and a silent curse at the the wilderness's expense. I sighed, unsure if we should wrap up the investigation, or risk more blood being taken by the only monster in this swamp: The bloodsucking bug known as the nuisance of the world. Me and my partner, Rosashia, we're out searching for one of Australia's favorite folklore monster, the Bunyip. So far, all that turned up was over churned moss and whistling cadences, it was not the most active night routines we've ever been on. We had set up night time cameras on edges of the swamp, places with more concentrated eye witness reports, and we took a canoe (toothpick thin, me and Rosashia concerned one bump would break it in half) to scout the actual humid body of murky water. We were soaked in a blanket of our own sweat, me stripped down to just shorts, and Rosashia wiping her forehead with the swamp's map. So much for squashing the hope of not getting lost. "Pistol, we've been out here for over five hours. If it hasn't come out now, it's either damn stubborn, or it just isn't. We need to leave before I get Malaria or some other deadly disease. And damn these bugs!" She started to ruffle her onyx hair and flicked a small beetle out into the water. "Were do they keep coming from?" She whined. I sighed, pulling back out the night vision goggles and scanning over the skim of the the water, not even a ripple,"Maybe because we are in the outside world, Thorny." I knew that usually made her mad, she got that nickname because of her extra sharp attitude. Even when thanking someone, she always snapped it as if it scorched her tongue. Yet, this thorny rose was the love of my life. We started this condiment business when we met at a gas station. I opened a bag of chips too loud, and she was vicious in telling me so, we somehow got that lead up to a dinner, talking about interests, and bada-bing bada-boom we're in a cryptic investigations, paranormal solving fighting team machine. 'Well then, Gun-Ho, let's go!" She leaned back exasperated, and I put the goggles back around my neck. "Fine, fine. This wasn't going anywhere anyway.".
Cranky and having to peel our clothes off, we grimaced as the clothes made a squelching sound, as if drowning in our sweat as well.. Rosashia gathered back up the camera equipment, and I packed then back up. It was time to give up on Australia. Careful not to bother the other residents in the hotel, we sneak into our room with only under clothes, one scowl, and one with an extra frown too many. We were young, in our middle twenties, but I was beginning to think if we kept up the grumpy works, we would soon forget our own years.
There was no love making that night, and equipment was slung into the corner of the room. I think we even dreamed we were irritated, I got beat up by her thrashing long legs, and I smothered her with my eagle spread arms. Rosashia wasn't beautiful, or even practical. She had a more tomboy feel about her, with short chopped slicked back black hair and a firm jaw. She never concealed herself with any make-up, she was the 'what you see is what you get' kind of people, blunt and so unfeminine. Someone awkward, but always remained comfy on her own grounds, she knew boundaries, and maybe that was why she turned me on so furiously. She wasn't that prize at the bottom of a cereal box, she was the grains in Lucky Charms, underestimated, but you know what to expect with every bite. I never like surprises anyway. A lot of my friends wondered if it bothered me she was about a half a foot taller than my own five foot nine, but in actuality, I favored it. She was my crooked, unique rose, and I was grateful for her. From a third person point of view, we must have looked odd as a couple, the woman the more masculine, the man the more lady-like. She made fun of my modest manners, and I poked at her oppressive pessimism. I had curly obsidian hair the fell just a little past my chin, and black slightly slanted eyes. I always adored the look of her dark skin against my pale arms, and she enjoyed the dominance she had over me. We melded like butter on toast.
The next morning we took a shower together, until the blaring ringing of a phone started to ring. Unabashed, Rosashia, dripping water, hurried over to the case with all our packed-up clothing on the bed, and tugged out the phone. I chose to listen more to the running water of the shower than the conversation, but caught a few words," Well?...no I'm...I thought she would...no, you need to...ugh, fine, but only..." I hear the distinct click and suddenly there's another body shoved against mine. "So, who was that?" I casually ask, she takes the shampoo bottle, squirts a dab on my head (By dab I mean a glob) and starts to run her fingers through my hair. To anyone else, this might actually look comical, but this was how we worked, harsh words, gentle action. Rosashia stayed quiet, and I would have been worried, had not I been oh so susceptible to fingers in my hair. I always melted to petting, call it a weakness, but my eyes would roll and I would purr if I could. She finally spoke up past my invisible dog tail wagging," I got a call from my grandfather. Not the gay one, or the Elvis impersonator, or the one who-","Tell me which one it is instead of the count down." I snort, Rosashia's grandmother had many 'the ones' all across the country, and no one knew which was the actual blood related one, so we stayed in contact with all of them. The gay one wasn't gay before, at least we don't think so, we'll never know how Aunt Claudia managed to snag that one. Rosashia tugged a little rough and I frowned," Sorry, sorry. It's just, I don't want to stay in here so long we prune." Rosashia went back to the raking of feathery fingers and I sighed happily," It's the one who has the, you know, the military obsession going on,","Oh, Grandfather, I mean General, Mackey?","Yes, now be quiet and let me finish," I leaned under the spray of water and rinsed my hair of the shampoo, then Rosashia went on to the conditioner," It seems Grandma is starting to show signs of Alzheimer's ..." I stayed silent, unsure if anything I could offer would be the trigger of a bullet. I hummed, wiped a stray trail of soap from my brow, and she continued," Pistol, she was found hiding under the bed, hitting anyone who walked by with a dustpan. Apparently she thought she had been kidnapped, and she was in her own house! She losing her marbles." I sighed, and we finished washing up. With towels wrapped around us, we pulled out simple shirts and jeans, and started packaging other clothes, ready to depart. We didn't say much more than where to put things and if this or that should be put together.
"I'm leaving for a temporary break." We were at the plane station, avoiding bumps and trudging our junk along. It was sudden, but I saw it coming before we left the hotel. As much as Rosashia was annoyed at her grandmother for the way she threw people out like music flew through ears, she was family. Since Rosashia had a last minute change, she was a bit low on cash, but I helped with that. We took out the same amount she had spent from my wallet and split it. Now I had an extra ticket, and would save it to mail to Rosashia when she would finish her trip to her grandmother's. I nodded reasonably," I know. You'll call me?"," Duh. You'll find something good for me to see when I get there?" I smiled, even in a tight spot, she was spunky," You know it."," Pleasure in the west?" I laughed," Let the Vampire bite,", Rosashia clicked her tongue and half smiled," The Thunderbird takes flight," People where starting to file out and the last calls of boarding were beginning, she was heading back to her home town in Russia, and I was going on the other side of the world, Pleasure Point, West Virginia. " A UFO will abduct those who sleep," we started to split and people were crowing in between, I had to strain to hear the last part of our silly cryptid poem we made up that first dinner," The day we find Bigfoot, scientists are going to read it and weep!" We both laughed to ourselves and hurried off to catch each of our flights.
I had never rode a plane that smelled of a stomach flopping sulfur and vanilla, which made me start to fret over everything that could go wrong. I then assured myself, if I die, no wait, don't think that. "Miss, are you okay?" I swerved behind me mouth agape, it was a young looking vixen, with the most interesting pink stringed auburn hair. "W-what?" I stammer, unable to be sure if it was her who spoke. She smiled kindly though, smile that spoke years beyond what experience should be for this young woman," First time flying? You were shaking and wouldn't move. I was just wondering if it's cold feet getting' ya'" I shook my head and forced myself to show my passport, then board the plane. I accidentally bumped someone's foot and got jabbed into the rib by someone's extra tack sharp elbow. So far, not good. It took me until I sat down, bruised on a spleen, to realized she had called me 'miss'. I just know this is going to be the most harrowing ride of my life.
An orange peel flavored the sky with the signs of a sunset, I had fallen asleep half way through the ride. Being on a plane for me was much like being on a roller coaster, if I knew it wouldn't humiliate me, I would have screamed through the entire thing, no matter how many times I flew on one. At least on a roller coaster other people were screaming too. With my terrible luck, someone would come in yelling where was the woman hurt, and then...I broke that thought in half, I tended to drift into daydreams a bit too often when I was without Rosashia. She was the one to keep me grounded when I was fueled with helium. I then noticed another figure occupying the seat next to meet, when we had taken off it was vacant. I didn't feel the need to introduce myself to the stranger and turned to look at the small circular window. It was amazing every time the revelation came to me just how high up in the atmosphere we was. Clouds were starting to wisp into strands, and it had a carnival feel by the beginning paint strokes of night fall. Beautiful. "Isn't it?" I was startled by the intensely deep voice and turned to look at the one just a seat over from me. I nodded, suddenly finding myself unable to speak, then shivered when a strange unknown breeze whisked under the hem of my collar. Was this guy a mind reader? I swatted at the notion and sunk a little into my white tee, it usually embarrassed me how unprofessional my clothing could be, and most people sure acted like it. I liked to resemble how I was professing, and a gray and white striped shirt was not it. I felt another breeze and wondered if I had packed any extra blankets in my suitcase stocked up in the holding cabinets above us. I wanted to check, but a sudden thought of how awkward it could be if I tried to reach for it crossed my mind. I would wait for a stewardess and asked if one of them could get it for me. With that thought, I tugged on the edge of the seat fabric between my fingers and decided I could pull out the installed movie players on the back of the seat in front. Wait, I need movies for that. I sighed annoyed and shove the player back into its case ungracefully and huffed. Then smiled because I had remembered my iPod Nano in my jean pocket. I was a nervous wreck just about every day of my life. When I was little, I would worry that if I looked away from my Mom one second, she would disappear, so I actually used to creep her out by staring at her constantly. Even at night. She had to convince me over and over that she would be there the next minute, and even then she would catch me peaking from a crack in the door. When I got a little older, I worried that fish crackers where real, and tried to figure out why they're smiling if they were deep fried. Then when I got into my pre-teen years...anyway, you get the idea, Nervous Nancy over here, but I found one thing that always helped me shake off my nerves. Music, and plenty of it. I was, once again, always paranoid that the buds of ear buds were going to fall off into my ear, so I had those bulky headphones, but it helped drown out everything else.
I had fallen asleep to music, and I had always dreamed to each one, too. I had a dream that I was trying to cook a cake, and every time Rosashia touched it, it would stutter and fall into a flat state of goo. I would get mad and then make another. I had another dream where I was trying to build a play set for a theater, with mythical creatures, and every time I would almost get done a dragon would accidentally destroy it somehow. I remember distracting them with giant candy and I finally got it done...only to half them sneeze and burn it to the ground. Snapshots of me naked, I think one of some kid with a stetson hat trying to wrangle me? I knew one clearly, though, clear as seeing the bottom of a swimming pool, I had a black object in my hand, I was speaking. Speaking what I had no idea, or to who, or why, but I was somewhere between the lines of mad and aggravated. Then the object turns red, and I'm fearful. I'm being slowly turned to sand, a pale dissolution that my dream self didn't seem to notice. Until I'm blown away into oblivion. But I'm confused to the next part. Instead of becoming enraged or even terrified at his own disappearance, my dream selves facial expression is one of calm. Peace. Maybe even, adoration. Who was I?
I woke with a start, the first things greeting me are the pounding beats of a song, and some motion on my arm. I look up to see it the man who had sat by me, he's motioning and mouthing something. I looked around and notice people starting to depart from their seats. We had landed.
The only airport we could find closest to Pleasure Point was Huntington, a city forest with just enough green to make you feel nature friendly, and enough tall building to make you feel part of modern days.
Though my stay here was short, I was going to take a cab as far as I could go, then walk. When me and Rosashia found our passions, we used our college fund money to start the cryptid hunt business we have going, it was serving to pull us by thin ropes. Sometimes, though, mayors of small towns actually payed for our services to solve farm mutilation cases or people being attacked, it served to be quite luxurious. Huntington was in its warmer days, around July and a nice blend of cooling wind and huffing heat. I walked, pleasurably enjoying the mild climate compared to the extreme temperatures of outback Australia. I had most of my clothes packed on my back in a beige back pack, pretty useful even outside of school, and I had the single handed task of handling equipment. Since that was the case I was unsure of how to approach it, I was swarmed with packs around me, trying to lift one by one and turn back around lifting the others. I was lucky if no one tried to mug me or try to snag a bag since it was taking me such tedious time, moving them like a handicapped train. By the time I had dragged cases (one by one over the other) to the exit, I was sure the outside was glowing with a heavenly light, I left baggage near the exit and ran back to pick up the last one, hastily trying to avoid any thieves. I grab the strap, only to find a lengthy hand attached to it as well. "Do you need help?"