Diary of a Gatekeeper

This diary entry was found  lying next to the body of Harold Bazemore who died of a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head. How he was able to obtain the handgun is still under investigation.

I stand guard at the entrance way to Tybee Island. I was told it was for their protection but it feels more like the checkpoint serves to keep them inside instead of keeping Rovers out. The girls that pass through my gate get younger every year. It this were fifteen years earlier it would have been considered a crime for a man to touch a girl so young. They pass by me in passenger seats of giant SUV’s driven by their stoic Guardians who seem not to notice the tears that are barely kept at bay within their eyes. These are the lucky ones, the girls that still have a light inside them. They’re alive enough to realize the S.A.F.E system isn’t a way of life.

Our government uses billboards, television advertisements and political speeches to deliver its propaganda. These slogans are meant to keep everyone focused on the goal, “Procreate and Populate.” The repopulation effort is for the benefit of everyone and research or whatever has shown that the S.A.F.E system is the best way to achieve our goal. We’re told it’s for their own good, for the good of the entire nation. In fact this fertility program is necessary for our very survival. Whether or not it’s actually helping remains to be seen.

I know it isn’t helping the girls and the pregnancy rates don’t seem to have improved much. These women – no girls – are taught that everyone must do their “duty,” but they are the only ones suffering this way. Regular citizens have common struggles like not enough fuel credits or fresh produce, but at least our personal lives belong to us. What must it be like to grow up in a world that only sees you for what your body can produce? May God forgive me for saying it but I believe my Olivia was lucky to have been taken by the Gender Flu. As terrible as the wasting sickness was on her it was far better than the slow painful death of the soul that the surviving females now experience.

I shouldn’t be writing down such dangerous ideas but does anyone care what a tired old gatekeeper thinks? I sometimes feel that I have to write down my frustrations or I’ll explode.

Diary of a Gatekeeper

Olivia Bazemore, Age 14

A Warning (Part One)

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“Do you have candles anywhere?” Jeremy asked. We were standing in the kitchen, completely dark except for the light attached to his head and my cell phone flashlight. A fierce thunderstorm with gale force winds had knocked our power out.


           “I don’t have any candles.”

          He made a face at me. “Aren’t girls supposed to have that sort of thing? “

I shrugged. “I’ve been using apple scented Airwicks lately.”


           “I think I might have some in the prep room. Can you go down in the basement and check?” He said that last sentence in a deep spooky voice to tease me.

           “I know you can’t see it, but I’m giving you the finger,” I called to him as I made my way to the stairwell.  Famous last words. Of course I’ll go down into the pitch black basement with the creepy maniac who cut our power lines so he could slaughter us in the dark.

           At least I wasn’t alone. My cat Davey dutifully followed me down the stairs. The thunder rumbled just outside the door and the wind howled like a demonic wizard had summoned it from the depths of hell. I’d never heard wind make so much noise. Davey stopped and turned in the direction of the basement window as a tree branch ominously scraped across. Since he’s blind he’s even more sensitive to noise. “It’s okay, I’m right here,” I reassured him.

           The prep room was a closet with shelves of stacked canned goods, dehydrated meat and bottled water. Jeremy wanted to be ready for the total economic collapse or zombie apocalpyse he knew was coming. We had enough food for the two of us for six months and a 50 gallon water container outside. I shined my cell phone flashlight over the batteries, and various tools stored with our food. I found matches but no candles. There was however, an old oil lamp on the shelf.

           A few minutes later we were sitting at the kitchen table eating hamburger steak with onions by the light of the oil lamp. It was March so the heat hadn’t grown oppressive yet and the scene was almost romantic. A beeping sound followed by a ear shattering siren spoiled the mood. “Is that our security alarm?” I’d clamped my hands over my ears in an attempt to muffle the sound. The alarm had never made more noise than an occasional chirp to let us know it was working.

           “Something must have triggered it..” Jeremy typed a sequence into the panel and it turned off a few seconds later.”

           As he did this outside alarms belonging to our neighbors on both sides of our house started to ring. “What the hell is going on?”

           “Maybe the power outage caused them to malfunction?”

           It was a weak answer but I would have accepted it if it hadn’t been followed up by the banging sound of a door bursting open below us. It had come from the basement where I’d been just moments before.

           Jeremy put a finger to his lips signaling that I should be quiet. “Follow me to the bedroom,” he whispered. “Don’t step on those squeaky floorboards.”

           We tip toed down the hall to the master bedroom where he armed himself with his pump action shotgun. He handed me his 9mm and flipped the switch on the safety. “It’s ready to fire. Just like I taught you at the range, remember?” My hands were shaking so bad when he handed me the gun I nearly dropped it.

           He kissed me on the forehead. “We’ll get through this.” He pulled out his phone to and started to dial 911. “All we have to do is make it until the cops get here.”

           After a few seconds of no one answering I began to worry.

           Jeremy made a face and dialed again. “That’s weird. The call keeps getting dropped.”

           “Let me try mine.” I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and my stomach lurched. No signal. “What are we going to do?”

“First we get out of the house and go to a neighbors to call the police.”

           A loud crash from the basement tore a scream from my throat. Jeremy jumped in front of me and pointed the shotgun down the hallway. “Stay here.” He hissed behind him.

           “Like hell,” I whisper shouted back to him.

           He closed the door to the basement but it didn’t lock from our side. “We need to barricade the door. He put his shotgun down to grab one end of the couch. “Help me with this.”

           We half lifted half slid the couch in front of the door just in time. I could hear heavy footsteps making their way up the carpeted basement stairs. There was a step followed by a dragging thump as if the person walking up the stairs had a lame leg.

           Jeremy stood beside me and pointed his gun at the door. “If anything comes through that door I’ll blow it’s head off. You might want to stand back a little farther because it’s going to be very loud.”

           My entire body shook with nervous anticipation. I head my 9mm in a death grip. I was lucky that I’d started a fire in the fireplace before dinner or we wouldn’t have had any light to see. I might have accidentally hit him instead of the intruder. Although from the sound of it, the man was a plenty big enough target.

           A fist slammed against the door.

Random Bag of Trash

While jogging earlier in the week at one of Lilburn’s fine parks I came across a random trash bag with several clothing items, a bible and a small smashed radio.  The items had been abandoned with no clue as to why they were there in the first place except a strange notebook paper task list that was equally random. I snapped a photo and wrote a short story about the origin of these things.

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All Jerry’s remaining possessions were useless junk. He had them arranged out in front of him in the grass, the embodiment of his life’s achievements. Everything together wouldn’t get him fifty dollars if he put an ad out for them on craigslist. The one thing of any value, which wouldn’t be valuable to anyone but Jerry, was his father’s tattered bible.

In his past life he’d flown frequently for work and used to try and read the bible on the plane. He mostly just read the same page over and over and gripped the arm wrest with the hand not occupied with holding the book. At the time he’d needed something to believe in greater than himself. The book was a representation of an all-powerful being he’d hoped was watching out for him. Now, it was okay to leave the bible behind, because someone else watched out for him.

Everything else he had was borrowed clothing. He had one pair of jeans so stiff they might have been able to repel bullets, two under shirts and a few pairs of black socks. He carried these things in a white trash bag, which made him look slightly more schizophrenic than just his unwashed hair and paranoid gaze could achieve on their own. He clutched a mini tape player in his nervous palm. Jerry knew that his recording was indulgent, but he couldn’t help himself. He would be finished with the list today, and then his time on this Earth would end. It was a small comfort to know that something would remain to mark his presence on this Earth.

“It’s been two days since I left Atlanta. I had to take a taxi out to Stone Mountain but I have avoided all contact with outsiders since. I’m working through the instructions faster than expected. I finished with the church yesterday; it was Baptist, I think. They gave me money for food along with my choice of a few things from their donations bin. I will of course be leaving all of these things before departure.

Jerry stopped the tape when he heard voices in the distance. An elderly couple in jogging outfits were coming around the corner and getting closer to him. He was told not to engage with others or draw attention to himself. Jerry slumped against his trash bag full of clothes and pretended to sleep. They were so busy discussing holiday vacation plans they didn’t see him at first.

As the couple drew closer the woman yelped in surprise. “Arnie, look there’s a man! Should we call someone?”

“He’s not doing anything, but sleeping. It is a public park.”

“I know, but maybe he’s sick or needs help. And he can’t just sleep here, there are children playing nearby.”

“Hey fella. You into some trouble?”

Jerry groaned as if in pain and rolled over turning his back to them. He pulled the top of his hoodie down over his face to signify he did not want to be disturbed.

“He’s probably just sleeping off a drunk and anyways, it ain’t none of our business.”

Jeff held his breath and only let it go when he heard their footsteps receding in the opposite direction. Maybe I should find a more secluded area. Rabbits and squirrels aren’t likely to tell anyone what I’m doing, but that nagging old bat might talk Arnie into calling the police. That was the last thing Jerry needed.

He pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper with hastily written instructions in red ink. Most of the items listed were barely legible and if anyone tried to read them, the list would sound like utter nonsense. The ravings of a homeless lunatic, which is exactly how they wanted it to appear. It was the perfect accessory to his random trash bag full of junk. He was down to the last item. Come alone. Don’t bring anything.

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Jerry folded the notebook paper and placed it neatly inside the bible. He looked around to make sure no one was coming up the path before stripping down completely. It was around noon but the November air hadn’t warmed up much from it’s frosty beginning. His skin broke out in gooseflesh as he folded the borrowed clothes and placed them inside the trash bag. He took one last look at his pathetic pile. Am I really giving up so much? Jerry jumped through the trees just as a police siren sounded in the distance. He had barely been eating for the last few days so he didn’t have the energy to run at full speed. However, the parking lot was at least a half-mile away and they’d have to get out of their cars and hike to reach him. They would find his bag, and bible. Maybe they would even take a moment to puzzle over the strange notebook paper list, but he would be long gone by then.

Acid Pussy – Scene 11 – Siren Gym

It was a bit of a distraction having Voytek around. She wanted to show him that she was more than just a card dealer at a casino.

“POW!” Shit. That hurt! Morgan’s fist landed right above Ryan’s left eye and opened a small cut. She’d stumbled backward and her sparring partner smiled. Hope you enjoyed that, because it won’t happen again.   Morgan faked a right jab but Ryan knew the girl was just trying to distract her.

“THWACK!” Ryan threw an inside leg kick that nearly took Morgan’s feet out from under her. She was favoring that leg now and trying not to show it.

“Give her a flying knee!” Voytek yelled from the corner earning him a slap on the head from her corner. She couldn’t help but smile. People who didn’t know the sport always said things like that.

Ryan decided it was time to end this fight. She flew forward exposing herself and making her untested chin vulnerable for a second to attempt a superman punch. They always look more impressive than they are and almost never land. Almost, never.

“Holy shit!”  Voytek was on his feet.

Morgan’s body flew backward on impact and Ryan actually felt guilty that she landed the blow. If this were a real fight she would be on top of Morgan bouncing her head off the mat to ensure her victory.

Instead she walked to her corner a little worried as the coach called for a medic. Voytek was only proud, not concerned.

“Is that chick getting back up?” he asked indicating the prone twitching form of Morgan a few feet away. Women’s MMA was something new and exciting to him.

“In a minute I hope. You know I really didn’t think I would land that punch. Hey, you want to try your luck?” She danced around a little and punched the air.

“Is that allowed?”

Coach Buster was clearly amused when the question was directed at him. “It’s typical for her to spar with myself or another man if there happens to be one here of similar size.”

“Right. He said it’s okay, so do you want to? I’m sure there is an extra pair of gloves you can borrow.”

Ryan just wanted to play around a little with him but he didn’t seem interested.

“I wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face. I’d feel awful if I accidentally hurt you.”

Ryan put her hands on her hips trying to look shocked. “Just to be clear you’re passing on the opportunity to get hot and sweaty with me rolling around on the ground?”

“I don’t believe it, but I think I am. I’ll have to take a pass this time.”

Acid Pussy – Revenge – Scene 5

It was hard to get to sleep that night even though it was late and her body ached from standing in the same spot in heels for too long. The image of Michael’s face as he was forced from her table by security, haunted her. A key turned in her lock and Ryan snapped awake. She’d never been a heavy sleeper.

She sat bolt upright in bed. Ryan didn’t recall reaching for the bat she kept in a corner by her bed, but suddenly it was in her hand. She mentally prepared herself to smash the skull of whoever entered the door. A thought occurred to her. A thief wouldn’t have her key. Boy Michael sure had some nerve just barging in like this in the middle of the night.

She laid back down and pretended to still be asleep. She had a sudden inspiration. Ryan reached for her special underwear she’d only been wearing for a few hours and flung them into a far corner. Their soft bluish glow was barely noticeable. She put the bat back in its corner.

A moment later his athletic frame filled the doorway of her bedroom. He did seem a lot thinner than when he’d left for Japan. An impulse to grab that bat again and smash his face made her hand twitch. Her new plan was much better. She nearly giggled out loud.

He walked over to touch her arm. The smell of beer and cigarettes assaulted her nose.
“Ryan, it’s me wake up,” he whispered.

Bet he’s been at a strip club stuffing dollars down some tramps g-string. She moaned lightly and pretended to wake from a peaceful sleep. She looked at him through heavy sleep laden lids. Ryan is wore a low cut tank top with no bra and Michael is did a poor job of not drooling over her breasts.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I admit I made a mistake but there is no sense in throwing away everything we have.”
“I agree,” she said and reached out to him. Ryan parted her legs so he could her absence of underwear beneath her shorts. He hugged her hard enough to squeeze the breath out of her lungs and she placed his hand on her thigh giving him the sign that she is ready to really make up.

“I thought you were..you know,” Michael had always been very articulate.
“I went to another doctor today and I’m all better now.”
“I just have to take some pills.” Ryan knew he would buy that. All he wanted to hear was that it was okay to stick his dick in her. Idiot!

Michael started to undo his pants but she had other ideas. Ryan held his face in both her hands.
“You’re so handsome,” she said. Not for much longer. I’ll take away your secret weapon, that achingly beautiful face that makes girls drop their panties.

Without much coercing she directed Michael to where he should place his face. He took the hint. Ryan’s body tensed a little. She didn’t really know how this would work. It seemed like a fine idea a moment ago… Michael’s mouth gave her attention eagerly and enthusiastically. Ryan lost her train of thought for a moment. He was very good at pleasing her this way.

She involuntarily flexed a muscle deep within her body, and took a deep breath. She had to stop him before something bad happened. It felt so good she couldn’t think. Her entire body tingled from the tips of her feet to the top of her head. She lost control and gave in to the delicious waves of pleasure.

 

Michael gets a taste of the all powerful AP!

Michael gets a taste of the all powerful AP!

“Agggghhhhh!” There was nothing but screaming. Michael jumped up from the bed clawing at his face. He ran to the bathroom making strange animal noises. Ryan went from rapture to panic in about two seconds. She grabbed her cell phone, beginning to cry as she dialed 911.

“What’s your emergency?” a woman asked.
“I-I need an ambulance!” she sobbed.

Acid Pussy – Indifference – Scene 4

It had been three days since she’d seen Michael and they hadn’t even spoken on the phone. He had called her but she ignored the phone. It helped to be back at work dealing cards, the monotony was soothing and she could pretend her entire world had not been turned on its head. Finally he made an appearance at Ceasar’s Casino. He swaggered in wearing a pair of dark jeans that were much too tight and hot for the triple digit heat, and plopped down at her blackjack table.   Michael smiled at a cute waitress who came up to ask if he needed a drink.

Ryan did not look at him and dealt cards to a married couple that were vacationing from Texas. They were both sporting cowboy hats and she had a tight shirt with a nice pair of fake tits as an accessory.

“What are you doing here?” She asked Michael without taking her eyes off the cards.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Nothing to talk about.” The movement was imperceptible to Michael but Ryan had just flipped a switch under her table signaling security. Somewhere a light would go off and a man watching one of the thousand security cameras would alert the pit boss.

Michael was choosing his next words very carefully. It was too bad he didn’t get time to say them. Mr. Chernayek had responded to her call himself. Ryan didn’t need to turn around to know this because she could feel his commanding presence. The big Russian put one hand on her shoulder so she could feel the firmness in his sausage fingers.

“Do we have a problem?” She turned around to meet his eyes. They were cold and flat, his face expressionless.

“I would like this man removed from the table,” she indicated Michael with a nod of her head.

Mr. Chernayek made a hand motion.

Michael was standing there trying to process what was happening when two security guards put their hands under his armpits and hauled him out of the chair. It tumbled backwards behind him. His exit from the casino would be much less suave than the way he entered.

“What the fuck?” “Hey Ryan, what are these guys doing? You can’t just throw me out for nothing!”

She didn’t spare a glance in his direction but smiled at the couple sitting at her table.

“Sorry about that folks, why don’t we continue our game?”

Acid Pussy – Doctor- Scene 3

Scene: The Institute for Sexual Anomaly

 

Dr. Kurz was a renowned German Gynecologist who had experience with every STD ever imagined and many strange phenomena related to the act of sex. Ryan felt apprehensive about walking into The Institute for Sexual Anomaly because the very fact that she moved toward the building advertised that there was something very wrong with her.

After checking in at the front desk and looking around the room she felt more than a little embarrassed. A woman in a short skirt and a purple cheek that almost matched the color of her blouse sat filing her fingernails. Obviously a prostitute. That realization didn’t help lift Ryan’s morale. The only other person in the room was a handsome dark haired man in the far corner holding a magazine that he was not reading. Instead he was staring intently at her, well not at her face. She lifted a polished middle finger in his direction.

He looked up from her legs to her face and smiled.

“Ryan?” the nurse called and she was ushered to the back. Her anxiety made Ryan instantly forget about the creep and prozzy in the waiting room. At least Dr. Kurz was prompt. She might have lost her nerve if they’d kept her waiting too long.

Dr. Kurz came in the exam room about two minutes after she undressed. Her ass was front and center and feet firmly planted in the stirrups once again.   Dr. Kurz had a grandfartherly look and she was comforted by the fact that he wasn’t a young man. His bald head shone like he’d rubbed it with shoe polish. He had a sharp nose and a very precise mustache. The large black-rimmed glasses he wore seemed too big for his skinny face. “Vell,” he said finally.“I ave good news and bad news,” he said peeping up at her from between her knees.

“The bad news is that your doctor made the correct diagnosis. It is Black Syphyillis and there is no cure. But I am verking on that.”

“So what possible good news could there be then?” she asked

“De acid can be contained vith regular douching, using an aqueous solution I have mixed for you.” He gave her a conspiratory wink. What’s with this guy? He seems to be really enjoying this.            

Dr. Kurz presented her with a small water bottle filled with mysterious purple liquid. It was the color of grape Kool-Aid and smelled like antiseptic. Ryan didn’t think the stuff seemed like anything she should be putting down there. It looked as if it would set her crotch on fire and have her run screaming for the nearest bathroom. Dr. Kurz seemed proud of his product and presented it to her like a present.“This vill help neutralize de acid but it von’t eradicate it. This is something you’ll have to do for the rest of your life, every six hours and of course right before sex.   If you do not, vill be wery bad for you.” He held up his index finger for emphasis. “That is unless you are wearing these.” The doctor reached into a drawer behind him and pulled out a pair of weird blue panties. He held them up for her to inspect. He seemed especially proud of them for some reason. “This is something I’ve been working on that may help as vell.”

“What is it?”

The underwear was cut into a fashionable bikini shape and seemed to contain water. The liquid inside gave off it’s own light It was almost pretty in a strange way. Ryan accepted the undergarments and Dr. Kurz’s advice. She winced a little at the cool temperature of the panties.

“They vill warm quickly once you put them on. And they will help neutralize the acid in your body. It cannot pass through this underwear so you don’t need to worry while you’re wearing them. Just in case you don’t have time to use your other medicine, these are a quick fix.”

Ryan felt somewhat better after leaving Dr. Kurz’s office, he was a bit strange but also helpful.  He made a follow-up appointment for her so they could discuss how the treatment worked. He seemed to genuinely care about her. Unfortunately she hadn’t heard him when he warned her that she might experience some mood swings, or violent urges as side effects to her condition.