Log in

The · Judas · Effect · Stories

The Judas Effect Series: Story #7 "Obsession"

Recent Entries · Archive · Friends · Profile

* * *

Judas stood silently for a long time trying to remember the steps that brought this situation about. She had experienced "black outs" before but typically there was no evidence of the events that happened in that lost period so she would just dismiss them. Here she stood, this time, at the banks of the Mississippi River. There was a gentle breeze blowing across her exposed arms and legs carrying the scents of honeysuckle and geranium as it passed by. She looked down at her hands covered in blood. The pattern was irregular, not that there was any typically or universal pattern for spatters of blood but these patterns seemed strange.

The bodies at her feet were torn apart like a wild animal attack, bites and defense wounds covered their arms and faces. The man looked to be in his late thirties. He had a dusty and dingy mop of unkept blonde hair. He was sort of tall and thin and his exposed chest was tattooed with some sort of jade dragon under his sternum. The woman looked to be in her mid twenties. She was also blonde but her hair was almost white. She was just a head shorter than the man and soft around the edges, very feminine.

Judas stretched her arms over her head and she could feel bullet wounds in her gut. One particularly deep and painful just above and slightly to the right of her heart. These were long rounds, hunting rifles maybe. She felt tired, dog tired the tired that locks it jaws on you and won;t let go. She wanted to lay down there in the soft green grass of the river bank and sleep a week. At this rate she might just lay there and never wake up.

The sudden appearance of flashing red and blue lights made up her mind for her. The screaming of the siren solidified her resolve. Time to run again. Judas immediately noticed a huge error in that plan; no motorcycle. 'I'll have to fight it out' she though. Reaching for her Raging Bulls she noted a problem with that course of action; no guns. Judas paused for a long moment unsure what her next move was as the two police men stepped on the top of the incline leading down from the road and into her view. The darkness and the river, she decided would provide her with sufficient cover.

With a mighty leap she threw herself into the cold murky water and started swimming as fast as she could go. The officers shouted incoherent orders at her before they started firing their .357 long barrel pistols at her. Two or three bullets struck true the others fell away or were swallowed by the great river. The cpeed of the current and her breast strokes got her out of range pretty fast. If she stayed in the water she knew they would find her. Wily and fast as she was it was unlikely if she were the only body in the river a helicopter would outsmart her.

Judas thrust herself forward and with some struggling she hosited herself onto the muddy shore on the Tennessee of the river. Her face fell into the mud of the river bank as she lay there exhausted from truing to stay above water. She had landed just a few yards from the US Interstate 40 bridge over the river. Mud covered and even more tired than ever she managed somehow to scramble up the bank of Mud Island and survey the area. Memphis, she decided was going to be fun.


Judas found herself a little place for rent at the corner of Hollywood Street and Chelsea Avenue. The place wasn't much but only took a few phone calls to secure. She ordered furniture from Ikea and kept it pretty simple. After only a few weeks it felt just like a home. She would go out at night and take in Memphis' night life. On Wednesday nights she whiled hours away at Industrial Gothic Night at The Full Moon Club on Madison Avenue.

The local Harley dealership didn't have a Soft Tail like the Limited Edition Harley Soft Tail Classic she had lost in Arkansas but the Harley Fat Boy she found in fire engine red with a purple kiss mark on the tank someone had special ordered and never paid for was perfect. After exploring some of the seedier sides of Memphis she found a broker willing to take a fat wad of cash to sell her some firepower without any questions or a five day wait. She purchased twin Raging Bulls and plenty of ammo, a Heckler & Koch USP Expert .40 calibre and a Luigi Franchi SPAS-12. Things were starting to return to normal alright.

One random Wednesday at Industrial Gothic Night Judas saw him. His name was Dominic Pearson but everyone called him Dom. He stood about six feet tall, taller in his big stompy New Rock Red Skull boots. He wore leather like it was his own skin and was shirtless at that very moment. His tattooed torso told a mottled story of places he'd been, things he had seen and women he had loved. The one Judas noticed most was the tattoo of the serpentine dragon between his shoulder blades. It was done in red and green ink and seemed to actually be alive. Hi skin was flawless in that absolutely impossible perfection you normally only see in airbrushed jerk off magazines like Playboy. Dom's hair was black with midnight blue and cherry red streaks and his eyes were big as the sky with dark blue centers around the pupil fading into a lighter blue before disappearing into the whites. He had khol all around his eyes that made him look recently dead. His lips were curled in a snarl and colored black as pitch. Judas thought to herself, 'here is my newest obsession'.
Writer's Mood:
thirsty Tragically Hip
"Born In a Burial Gown" by Cradle of Filth
* * *