The Butcher and the Butterfly

by Ian Dyer

  Her eyes returned and the pulsing stopped. The old witch licked her lips and unrolled her sleeve; the blood already starting to clot on her arm. Coughing hard; for she hasn’t spoken in a while, she looked down to the orb and stroked it caringly.

  ‘Someone comes to pay us a visit, Petra. An Oath Bearer, do you believe! And he seeks the gun of my father.’ Her voice was low, almost lost to the sound of desert crickets and wild cats screaming at the Hunters moon. ‘He comes to me but he knows not what I am or what I can do.’ The old woman smirked and closed her eyes mumbling an ancient rite until the moon was high and the night was fully upon the town of Rockfall.

  She hadn’t noticed that behind her, in a cupboard unopened in decades, an ancient soul contained in an ancient weapon was awakening. Jonah has arisen.

  9

  The young woman Susie didn’t really belong in this town. Were she born just a few hundred miles in any other direction she would have been treated like a piece of fine silk and only the richest, most influential men would have stood a chance to bed her. But she hadn’t and so any thoughts she had of being treated like a princess had to be shelved, kept away from the folk of this desert town.

  She had freshened up after completing her daily routine, a routine she completed every day and would continue on doing until the day she died no doubt and as the two lovers embraced on top of Hangman Hill so she opened the doors and letting in the first of the revellers. There were the usual faces; Morey, Keef, Toby, Mad Margaret and Mo and a few others that only came here once a month and only when they needed too, the beer being at its cheapest was also a help. The first Friday of the month was always busy in the bar, the beer and whiskey flowing freely allowing the full range of debauchery Rockfall is capable off to be set free. It was a tradition that went back to the days of Rockfalls original settlers and was a celebration of the barrelling and the selling of oil.

  Susie hated it. Like she hated most things, no everything that this town had to offer. Most of the time she would prefer to be anywhere but here but on these nights she would even take the sweet freedom of death if it meant she would be free from this place. Much like the other girls in this town she hadn’t had a great upbringing and couldn’t rely on an education to get her anywhere. What made it worse for her was that her parents had died when she was young leaving her in the care of the only woman that would take her in; Cathy. She had been raised fairly enough but it was when the blood started to flow from between her legs that Cathy had shown her true colours.

  As Susie served Keef his usual frothy beer she felt in her pocket the solid gold coin that Cathy had given her and signalled that she would spend another night underneath another man as he thrust himself into her. The only saving grace she had was that at least this man, this Watchman from the South didn’t look as dirty as the others, didn’t look as dead as the others she has had to please in the past.

  As she tried to clear her mind and maintain focus on the jobs at hand the batwing doors burst open revealing John and Cathy, and much to Susie’s disappointment, Jameson the local Sheriff. They trundled into the bar one after the other, Cathy leaving the two men after she had shown them to their table in the corner under a huge painting depicting the town in the grand days when the black oil flowed freely from its hills.

  Cathy joined her behind the bar and the usual conversations started about the state of the town, the way in which the sand is starting to take over, the deaths, the births, the bored young lads becoming trouble, Tommy the simpleton and on rare occasions Patience, the recluse old woman, would even be spoken of. It was all very boring to Susie, but to keep away from becoming gossip herself, she joined in with nods and grins where it mattered. Even flattery when it suited, especially for Jameson, the fat bastard. Thank fuck, Susie thought, that she was the property of a Watchman tonight and so wouldn’t have to put up with his sweaty, bloated body grinding up against her and as if on time there came footsteps on the stairs and her man for the night came waltzing down from his room.

  He was a good looking man; even if a bit travel worn, with the air of a city man and the grace of a dancer. As he walked down the stairs he drew attention from the fifty or so folks in the bar. They no doubt already knew who he was and what he was but it wasn’t every day that a Watchman comes into town, especially since no crime had been committed. Hushed voices became whispers and Susie served a few more patrons as the Watchman glanced around, found a spare table in the shadows of the stairs and sat himself down.

  Susie looked over to Cathy knowing what she must do and Cathy gave her an approving nod. Pouring a fresh beer, followed by a chaser of whiskey she carried the two glasses over to the table much to the chagrin of the sheriff. Her hands were shaking slightly, more than they would if this was a regular paying customer. Her belly twisted in knots at the thought of talking to this stranger. Cathy had warned her before about city men, about their strange and bewitching ways, but she had blown them off, but now, with a city man right here in front of her she could see what Cathy meant; there was something strange and bewitching about him and it tugged at her womanhood.

  The Watchman acknowledged her with a nod and a smile and she placed the glasses down on the table offering him first the chaser, which he drank in one gulp and then the beer which he merely placed to one side.

  He looked at her, those deep set eyes boring holes into her soul. ‘Thank ya, Susie. Busy night?’

  Susie swallowed hard, her tongue swelling to twice it normal size. She was all of a sudden aware that she had no answer for him; there were no words ready to come out. It was as if he had asked her to explain why the stars twinkle or why the wind blows. Time was speeding by now and it was becoming awkward.

  ‘Take a breath, Susie. I’m not here on official business.’ He smiled and the bewitching had begun.

  ‘It’s not that,’ Susie exhaled and now fully capable of speech, ‘This is the first time I have spoken with a man from the city. Plus, usually when the coin is spent on me.’ She trailed off quickly.

  ‘I understand. It’s usually toward the end of the evening. I just thought it would be nice to have some company and maybe learn a few things about this place before I move in.’

  Move on? Susie’s belly dropped at the thought. It was like she was fourteen again and trying to hold back the crush she had on an older boy. What did it matter that he was leaving, what did she expect, that they would fall in love and he would live here with her forever. Or better still; run away together.

  Come on Susie, get it together. Just entertain this guy for a few hours, bed him and then move on like he will. Like they all will until you are a toothless slack old crow that only the desperate want to fuck.

  The Watchman looked around the busying room and to the horde waiting upon their drinks at the bar.

  ‘As much as it would please me, I feel it best that you head back over and help Cathy. The horde is getting restless.’

  He smiled at her and winked. Her hands trembled again and she hated herself for it. Susie went to say something but couldn’t and simply smiled and headed back over to the bar where Cathy was waiting anxiously.

  For the next couple of hours she served beer, laughed when required and flattered where needed all the while feeling his eyes upon her and knowing that he could see her watching him. A few times she floated over to him with a fresh beer or a chaser and a meal of a meat patty and some salted fries. They would small talk, laughing occasionally and have odd elongated silences broken only by the shrill of Mad Margaret or the cries of help from Cathy.

  In the corner of the room, sat with the Deputy and the Deputies wife, Jameson, the local Sheriff sat with his hands crunched tight and his eyes fixed upon the Watchman. It wasn’t every day that you had a visit from an Oath Bearer and it wasn’t every day that that Oath Bearer would take the girl you liked to fuck and fuck her himself. What was worse was that the Sheriff would now have to go home, to his ever fattening wife and fuck that instead.

  10

  �
�Quite the charmer, aren’t we, Oath Bearer?’

  Samson’s voice spoke in Stephens mind causing him to spill some of his beer on the floor.

  ‘I shall be quick, Watchman. It seems as though the Witch knows you are here. She has one of the Orbs and it has taken her and so has given her powers almost equal to my own. I don’t think the mad old fool knows how powerful she is but still……… Do not be afraid of her, but be mindful.

  ‘We do not need the Orb she carries yet, it and she together have uses, but she will try and take the girl Susie and what is inside of her. This you cannot let happen under any circumstances. Do not let her have the girl. Barter, yes, especially for the weapon she offers you, but deliver, no.’

  ‘What weapon? Why does she want the girl?’ Stephen asked.

  But there was no response and that was a good thing as stood in front of him was the Deputy and a rather red faced and bloated Sheriff.

  11

  ‘Good evening, Stephen.’ John began, ‘Hope you are having a pleasant evening?’

  The Watchman nodded and raised his pint mug.

  ‘May I introduce Cliff Jameson, our Sheriff and mayor.’ John motioned to the rather fat man to his left and Stephen could see a sense of embarrassment at having to introduce such a fat bastard to such a well esteemed visitor as he.

  The Sheriff put forward his hand, ‘Watchman, may I be one of the first to welcome you to our town.’

  Stephen stood and took the hand of the Sheriff. The two men shook, but it was awkward; the Sheriffs hand clammy and so big they were hard to hold.

  ‘It is a pleasure, Sheriff. I was happy to come across this place such was my journey upon the Wastelands.’

  Jameson grinned awkwardly; he no more wanted to be here than a prisoner in his cell. ‘Aye, a bitch of a place is that desert. Many a man has been lost out there.’

  There was an awkward silence between the three men, all stood there like prize winning bulls each one not sure of what to do next. Acting the part Stephen gestured for the two men to sit and join him but both men shook their heads.

  ‘No, no, but thanks all the same,’ Jameson said the redness of his face intensifying, ‘Busy night tonight. I only came to say my hello’s and to ask if I may trouble ya for the reason you have come to our little bit of paradise?’

  Stephen remained standing as he answered, looking the Sheriff in the eye as he did. ‘Passing through, is all, Sheriff. No need to worry.’ He left a slight pause looking and leant in close to the Sheriff. His scent was horrific; a mixture of sweat, beer and cheap man perfume. ‘Unless of course you have something to worry about, Sheriff?’

  Jameson and John both coughed under their breaths. Johns face reddened slightly but the Sheriff looks as though he was going to have a full melt down. His entire body, and there is a lot of it wobbled with anger and frustration.

  He responded, his words coming out fast, phlegm flying as well as his multiple chins swaying. ‘Nothing here but good honest folk, Watchman. No need to start ruffling feathers or pulling teeth in this town.’

  ‘Then you have nothing to worry about, Sheriff.’ Stephen sat back down and took a sip of his beer not taking his eyes from the two men. ‘I am here for a couple of days, mainly to get some more provisions together, plan my next move and then head off once more into the Northern Territories. I hope I won’t be of any inconvenience?’ It wasn’t really a question, more a rhetorical statement as Stephen knew what the only answer could be, but there was something shifty about both the Sheriff and the Deputy. Not that it mattered much in the long run. But still, a Watchman’s duty is never done no matter how far from the path they have strayed.

  The Sheriff merely nodded and stomped away, heading toward the doorway that led to the outhouse. John made his farewells and headed back over to the table where a small group of men had now set up camp.

  Stephen scanned the bar, keeping his ears attuned to the individual voices that echoed around the wooden walls. So far there had been no mention of this “Tommy” chap but the night was still young by all accounts.

  12

  The Sheriff waddled out into the sticky night and relieved himself in what past as a toilet by the side of the Travellers Last. He coughed loudly, spitting out a large snot filled wad onto the floor. The taunts of that poor excuse of a Watchman still coursed through Jameson’s veins and made his blood boil. They were simple jabs, but no one made jabs at the Sheriff. Not if they knew what was good for them.

  ‘A trip to the Hill.’ Jameson said to the piss stained wall in front and he swayed a little his huge wait almost going over if it wasn’t for the wall to his right.

  ‘And he took yer girl.’

  He coughed again, this time swallowing the gloop and with a final push a small trickle of piss came from his penis. He waved the old feller about and then zipped it back behind his fly.

  ‘Fucking Watchman.’ He said sniggering and the old Sheriff waddled back into the bar and consumed enough beer to fell a wild beast leaving his old wife happy.

  13

  The night wore on, seeming never ending; the singing was relentless as too was the consumption of beer and spirits. Stephen couldn’t blame the people for drinking so heavily, these towns didn’t offer much in entertainment anymore, ever since the black liquid had gone dry places like this died slowly, screaming as they did. The death of a town would start slowly, much like Rockfall was now, and then the death would hasten as soon stores and bars couldn’t sustain themselves on such meagre pickings. It wouldn’t be long before the scavengers moved in and then it was too late; a once bustling town full of life would be lost, stricken like a rudderless ship and consumed by the desert.

  And then the Clickers would come and any one left would regret their decision to stay.

  14

  The night came to a close at around two in the morning; the last of the drunks leaving in a storm of yelling and screaming, Cathy locking them out and bolting the doors quickly as if to keep some ancient beast away.

  Stephen could feel his body becoming weary, his eyes heavy and his mind lazy. The tiredness of the journey was creeping upon him, the beer and whiskey pushing him into a deeper state of sleepiness than he had anticipated. The Sorcerer had said to have this young girl, but he doubted his own ability in this state. He chuckled to himself; as a younger man there wasn’t enough beer to stop his prick getting stiff and him being able to fuck all night long. But times were changing. Even with Susie’s looks he knew that tonight would be a quiet one and he would sleep long into Tomorrow.

  There were no words between Stephen and Susie as she ushered him upstairs and led him into his bedroom. There were no words as she undressed him, no words as the two of them lay naked together in bed. The candle she had lit flickered and their shadows danced across the walls in their own act of love. Even in the soft light he could see in her eyes that she understood that he was tired; that whatever journey had been on had taken it out of him. But there was something else, hidden deep inside her beautiful eyes. There was a glimmer of disappointment and the disappointment was mirrored in his own.

  She stroked his face and he could feel his eyes drop as the blackness of sleep came upon him.

  ‘Rest now, Stephen. Sleep well and dream only of me. Your gold coin is still good for the morning.’

  15

  The sun hadn’t risen when Stephen awoke but the sky was a blood red its signal that the day to come was going to be hot and dusty.

  By the time the sun was fully up and the sky a wash of azure blue the two hot sweaty and satisfied bodies lay intertwined and the job the Sorcerer had wanted Stephen to do was done.

  Thirsty Birdies

  1

  Stephen knew the girl liked him, it was obvious, but he didn’t care for her. She was fine looking, a dream like body was hard to come by especially way out in butt fuck nowhere. She would make many a man happy if she was ever to wed, but it would not be him she wed no matter how much she would have it so and knowing the strange ways of
a woman, she would beg it to be so when he came to leaving this fucking hell hole.

  But despite all that he needed her for the time being, she would have her uses and what did it matter if he strung her along? It would give her something to treasure for a couple of days if only to be brought back to earth when he leaves. He remembered the Sheriff and how he been flustered the night before and guessing by the Sheriffs obvious disgust at the Watchman, he was meant to bed this little flower last night so at least Stephen had done her that favour. Stephen would get his fill of her over the next day or so and as a plus he wouldn’t have to pay and that was okay with him. After that who cares?

  2

  He watched her slowly wake up and stroked her hair softly as she moved in closer to him and snuggled. It was strange to him that a girl would give herself up so quickly; the women back home were far tougher quarry, even those who accepted coin for their womanhood. Stephen held her tight; his obvious excitement pushing against her backside.

  He tested the waters however obvious they may be, ‘I will run out of coin at this rate.’

  Susie moved her hand from her belly and grabbed hold of his erect penis, stroking it gently. Her eyes were ablaze, her cheeks blushing and her breath deep. ‘You know as well as I do, Stephen, that there is no need for any more coin.’

  She rolled over so that her body was on top of his. Susie eased his erection into her moist hole and she kissed him deeply; moaning as she lowered herself down upon his shaft. ‘One more time and then it’s time to get up.’

  They fucked hard and quick.

  In the distance, behind closed doors and rotten wooden blinds, Patience was laying in her own bed, legs wide apart and her body pulsating with pleasure. On top of her, working hard, was the young simpleton Tommy; his face red with effort but his heart happy as he entered the dirty dry hole of the witch. Patience may be old and dried up and her looks shot to hell and back but she still liked the prick as much as any woman and with a little witch craft Tommy was the perfect one to give it to her.