Chapter Four

 Out of the corner of my eyes I saw two hands reach for me and draw me back, away from the overflowing bathtub and the certain injury or death that awaited me. When I turned to look, I saw before me a slip of a woman with long red hair eyeing me warily.

"Rough night, eh?" she said in a voice that dripped with honey.
"To say the least," I muttered.
"I have a message for you."

Her eyes, the color of teal set aflame, looked me over from head to toe. She smirked at me, unimpressed with the condition I was in.

"Get dressed," she said in a voice that left little room for argument.
"Wait a minute. What's your name?"
"We'll have time for introductions very soon. Just get dressed."

I quickly rushed through the process of dressing and met her outside my room.

"If you don't do exactly what I say, you are going die tonight," she said matterfactly.

I really didn't know how to respond to that. She had saved my life though, so I figured I might as well listen to what she had to say. But there wasn't to be anymore words from her, for in that instance a strange, short man with unkempt hair appeared at the top of the stairs. He was maybe 3 feet tall in stature and waving his hands about as if he were juggler in a circus.

"Shit! Get the fuck down!" she said as she pushed me down and advanced on the dwarf.
"I told you never to show your face again, Agar! Now you'll see what mischief I can throw at you!"

She threw her hands together, palm to palm, and muttered strange words that I had never heard before. And with a force that was as strong as a wind storm, she sent Agar flying across the room and through the wall. Some kind of other magic, darker and more sinister must have been at play though, because the next thing I knew, the hallway we had been standing in vanished. Darkness crowded around us as the sounds of singing metal filled the air. What happened next I never would have believed possible.....

Chapter Three

   After a long period of staring into what seemed to be my reflection, I suddenly realized that I was fucking exhausted. and drunk. This was the third night in a row that I had remained in this shitty little motel room, walking across the street to get taco bell and a variety of drinks at the liquor store next door, approximately 8pm each night. What was I doing in the bathroom, even? Taking a piss, right? But then why was I in front of the sink? I didn't remember flushing the toilet. But the floor was wet. Oh fuck!

   I was drawing a bath, and my stupid fuck of a self was just standing there half passing out and just staring. Just staring, paying no goddamn attention to the fact that I had been waiting for this bath for at least ten minutes, and that is when I slipped on the soaking wet tile floor and fell straight toward the shower wall, knowing for sure that I was about to drown in the overflowing bath tub, but then something strange happened.

Chapter Two

As I held onto that aging card, I thought of my mother's house. Before the house been demolished, it had been located on Muskateer Drive, not five houses away from this card's address. And whenever I think of my mother I can't help thinking of her line of work. Mama had been a whore, plain and simple.

I had been five years old when I caught my mother in the act, during one of her nightly sessions. I can still hear the sounds of bed springs squeaking and animal grunting.  As I peaked through the keyhole, watching something I knew I shouldn't be seeing, my opinion of my mother changed forever.

Back in the hole-in-the wall hotel room, I stood up, dropped the yellowing address card on the dirty blanket that covered my tiny bed and walked towards the sink. As I stood at the mirror and stared at my reflection.....

Chapter One

I found his name and information in an old, brown suitcase I had purchased from a thrift store.
The words were jotted down in an all-capital-letter format, neat enough to read, yet not trying too hard to impress anyone. The index card it was written on was obviously a bit aged, yellowed and bent over the years. When I pulled it out from the pocket it was stuffed in, it read:

JAMES MEREDITH

6033 MUSKETEER DR.

CINTI, OHIO  -  45248

And so the story begins...

The Exquisite corpse, created by the Surrealists, is an artistic and literary method of group collaboration in which words or images are jointly combined to create something new and fantastic. This blog is dedicated to a literary experiment in which three bloggers will collectively create stories to share with our readers.

Cadavre Exquis, Man Ray (Emmanuel Radnitzky, 1890-1976), Joan Miró. (1893-1983), Max Morise e Yves Tanguy. (1900-1955).

Method to our madness- The first blogger will write a passage of the story and the next blogger is responsible to take up the story where they left off and so on, until we have reached the story's end.