A sixth excerpt from Ne'er Do Well

Chapter Six

            He ran. He ran until he had finally arrived. Home. He put his corroded copper key into the deadbolt lock, turned the knob, and entered. A thick, strong smell filled his nostrils. Mold. His living room was cluttered with a thin layer of clothing, magazines, and trash. Had someone been there before him? No, his house was always a mess. Indeed, Steve was in deep need of a visit to the land of solitude, the impenetrable world, the world where none of the struggles of the universe could seep in. Steve went to his bedroom.

            He laid himself down, taking in the light blue, flaky walls, the sun’s golden sheath, and the incomparably gorgeous clothing closet. To him, it did not matter where, as long as silence permeated the air. Not surprisingly, he was thinking about an interesting theory. He dreamt of a simple world, where all moved at their own will, and all dreams were reached. Alas, for Steve this world was unattainable. Even for people like you and I, the truth of this philosophy is painful to endure…

            And as Steve sat in his comfortable bed, the mysterious, smiling man searched. Presently, I will take us to him.

“In only a moment… Just a moment…” He grinned

His steps were steady yet quick, like the speed of the workers in Ne’er Do Well. With each step, his smile grew larger, and he knew. He knew exactly what he was searching for and he was well aware of its location. He came upon Steve’s street, a rundown trailer park, complete with your average every day rusted vehicle. The man was stunningly strong, his fists pounding into a nearby rusty car; his strong, grey eyes displaying his commitment to his cause. His pace quickened, only one trailer away. As he finally reached Steve’s yard, he took at breath through his nose, as if he could smell his target. He knocked.

“Come on out, Steve.”

No response.

“Damn it, Steve. You know I like games, but you and I have been playing this game for much too long.”

His arm tensed. He grabbed the door by its sides and tore. The living room was exposed.

“Please pardon my rudeness.”

His manners were still programmed to work even in these kind of situations. He made his way to Steve’s room, aiming for the kill. He bashed open the door. And found…

Nothing.

“NOTHING?!”

            Steve was gasping for air. Despite his readings which suggested healthy food and exercise daily, he ignored them; the effect was felt. He was almost there. The secret entrance. But, how would he be sure the man wouldn’t follow him? No, he was sure the security doors would stop him. Or, would they? The man had torn off Steve’s door. These steel panels were most surely not going to stop him. Steve came to the crossroads; should he worry for himself and enter the headquarters or should he worry for the welfare of the association’s members? He chose the former. He ran further, past the hidden entrance…

            I bring us back to our villain, Kresh McCore, entering his home. An apartment located in deep downtown Ne’er Do Well; beautifully kept, by his one and only dear wife: Isabell McCore.

“Home again.”

“Welcome home, dearest.”

Isabell’s arms were covered in scratches, both old and new, a face emblazoned with romantic red scabs and sunset-purple bruises. Her explanation to her coworkers? A fall down the stairs here, an accident while cooking there, or perhaps a fall from the bed. They were simple accidents, which were in fact, experienced by many women in Ne’er Do Well. So, the explanation was acceptable.

“Honey, do you see this?”

“Umm, yes, dear, I do. It’s the floor.”

“Don’t get smart.”

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled, until allowing her small, young head to plummet towards the ground. The impact was felt, and rose tainted petals fell from her nose.

“Look at the mess you made. Heh… You thought you were finished. My darling, you have to do much better than that.”

And as she coughed lovely, rosy petals once more, she exhaled

“Yes.”

            He was finished. Justice had been served. Karma has a funny way of working, he must’ve thought. Near the bedroom door sat a precious, golden retriever; man’s best friend. Kresh McCore respected his dog almost as much as he respected his wife. Because of this, he expressed his love with several ‘check-ups’; A simple examination to confirm existence. A simple thrust of the foot, with a brown leather boot for extra special accuracy and an assured response. A loud cry of confirmed life filled the house instantly. He was satisfied, his wife had been ‘gently’ reminded of her mess-ups and his dog had shown his master that his was still filled with everlasting vitality. It had to be; else he would not have been alive for 8 years thus far. Kresh’s last dog lasted only a few days… ‘Lacked vitality’, he would exclaim.

            It was off to bed, with yet another day of failure. He was feeling much better now that he knew his fellow housemates were there alongside him. His wife in bed; His dog at his feet. He was ready to close his eyes to a day unrealized. He would be ready to open his eyes again in the morning. Another day another dream, he always thought.