There was a sensation that he was falling. When he woke up, he found himself in the grass. It was nighttime and insects were chirping. As he sat up, he realized there was a manacle about his left wrist chained to the hilt of a sword that lay a meter away. He used the chain to pull the sword towards him, then grasped it by the hilt when it was close enough. It felt surprisingly weightless. It was a dual-edged broadsword that seemed like it ought to weigh much more, especially given its metal hilt.
Upon the hilt was an etched design and two small rubies were inlaid in what appeared to be the eyes of a dragon-like beast.
“Well ain’t this something,” he commented to himself.
Then he stopped moving. He looked back at the hilt, then up at the sky, which was dark save the twinkling of the stars. There was no moon, no light. Yet he could discern everything as clear as day.
He realized he could hear much better too if he concentrated.
Or maybe my hearing has always been this good… he bemused.
Not thinking much more into it, he stood up carefully while holding the sword, being careful not to injure himself. Glancing up and down the road, he said aloud: “Guess it doesn’t matter which way we go… eh, slick?”
He looked down at his sword, as if expecting an answer, but got none.
The man had found a highway road not far from where he had awoken. His sword in hand, he looked down one way, then the other way, and began walking arbitrarily in one direction. Hungry, thirsty, hot, and slightly delirious, he talked at his sword as he walked.
“You know, I have memories, but I have no idea who I am. It’s like I’ve forgotten my name and I conveniently can’t remember anything to remind me.”
“Don’t they have cars? What is this road for?”
“I don’t even know what the last thing I remember is. I don’t know the chronology of any of my memories.”
“Boy, am I thirsty.”
“Come to think of it, I’m pretty hungry too.”
“Man, it sure is lonely, not having anyone to talk to.”
There was a vibration in the hand he held the sword in, then he heard a voice in his head.
Fine. If you want me to talk so bad, then I will.
At first he chuckled, thinking he’d finally lost it. Then he broke out into ludicrous laughter at the thought of going mad.
Would you stop that, you loon?
He stopped laughing instantly. “So I’m not crazy. You are talking,” he said with lucidity.
What, you spent the last three hours talking at me not knowing I could talk?
He didn’t answer.
You really are a loon. A nut-case. A nutter. Mentally insane. Bereft of all reason. Incurable. How do I even tolerate you, really.
Still want me to talk?
He had been dragging the sword by its chain, hearing it complain about how delicate it was for about fifteen minutes when he finally got fed up and started carrying it again. He kept hearing strange noises in his head and didn’t understand what they were at first…
“Are you sobbing?” he asked his blade.
There were more sobbing noises before an actual answer materialized. You would be too if you were callously abused by someone you trusted intimately.
“Don’t go making our relationship more than it is.”
We’re chained together. Isn’t that an indicator of how close we are? There’s a physically unbreakable bond between us.
“We’ll see about that.”
You can’t break this chain. Just try.
Fine, don’t trust me.
There was a gasp of agony, then heavy breathing from what sounded like a person seething. You. Are. Intolerable! Insufferable! Inhumane! Undeserving of me! A scoundrel! A wretch! You should be grateful you even get to hold me! You —
He dropped the sword. “Whoops.”
This seemed to have the desired effect, as the sword shut up save for an occasional whimpering sob.
After nearly four hours, they approached a car on the side of the road. From a distance, the car had been a red speck, and he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things or not. Over time, it became clear that it was no illusion.
As they approached, a woman with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair got out of a car. She wore a white sports bra, olive tank top, and khaki cargo pants, along with a look of suspicion that implicitly communicated her distrust. Her right hand hovered by one of her pockets, which the man could only presume hid some sort of weapon. He hoped for her sake she wasn’t all alone with only a knife because that seemed pretty stupid, but considering how gorgeous this woman was, he didn’t have the highest expectations of her intelligence.
Hey. There are smart, beautiful women out there.
Sometimes his sword surprised him.
Those are the ones I love the most.
Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, and her skin was a luscious shade of chestnut. She wore dark blue mascara that complemented her vivacious hazel eyes and light pink lip gloss, but little else in the way of makeup. She was beautiful, the natural sort of beautiful that no man could resist. Part of her beauty derived from her hardiness, for she had the appearance of a woman who had weathered many storms. The man raised both his hands up, sword pointing down, to indicate he meant no harm. She continued to eye him suspiciously.
“Could we… uh, get a ride?” the man asked.
The woman’s eyes tightened. She seemed somehow dumbfounded by this request, but also seemed to relax. “You want a ride?” she asked incredulously.
I mean, of course we want a ride. What, you think we’re just taking a leisurely stroll out here in the middle of nowhere?
The man tightened his grip violently to indicate to his metal companion to shut up. But he had to concede his sword’s sarcasm was on point.
“Who do you expect is going to give you a ride when you’re lugging that piece around?” she posited reasonably.
Tell her I’m nothing compared to the piece you’ve got tucked away in your pants there.
The man sighed. “It’s chained to me. I can’t get it off.”
Not unlike your penis, har har.
The man had to clench his teeth to stop from chuckling.
“Why?” the woman continued questioning. What
The man rolled his eyes in frustration. “I don’t know, I woke up like this.”
Tell her the last woman didn’t ask so many questions.
The woman continued squinting suspiciously. “I’d think you were a prisoner, but they don’t usually arm prisoners…” she paused, just long enough for his sword to get one good insult in.
Ask miss genius here if she has any other brilliant insights while she tries to figure out if you’re a rapist.
“Where you from?” she queried.
With a thoughtful expression, he pondered the question seriously for a moment, despite knowing the likely outcome. “Honestly… I have amnesia and can’t remember.”
The woman nodded, her eyes flashing disbelief. “Right. That’s convenient.”
Not as convenient as finding this hot piece of meat stranded out here…
“Convenient or not, it’s the truth,” the man defended.
“So you have no idea how you ended up here, chained to a sword,” the woman reaffirmed, still not believing the man.
“Fine then, Mr. Amnesia. Say I was to believe this hokey-dokey story of yours. How about a name then?”
The man winced, an enigmatic pain coursing through the center of his skull. “Ah…” he grimaced.
“Ah…?” she mimicked heartlessly.
He shook his head violently, his hair splaying all about. “I have no idea. My head just hurt all of a sudden.”
The woman pursed her lips, clearly not believing a word of it.
Tell her you might remember if she gave you a lap dance.
His heart skipped a beat, and his stomach knotted with desire at his sword’s perverted aside.
“Well, you gotta have a name,” the woman pressed.
His head flared up in pain again and, without thinking too hard, he blurted out, “Charlie. Just… call me Charlie.” He wanted her to stop bugging him, though somehow he felt this was only the beginning of his frustrations with this woman.
“Charlie it is. Nice to meet you. I’m Nadine.”
Charlie nodded. “Pleasure to meet you Nadine. So, what brings you out to the middle of lord only knows where?”
Nadine scratched the back of her head with a crooked smile, exposing her perfect teeth, then chuckled nervously. As she did this, the man was drawn to her breasts and the thought of how soft and supple they were. He licked his lips, squeezing his fingertips to distract himself from thinking about her nipples, and bit his lower lip in refrain.
You know, you could force yourself on her if you wanted… there’s no one around, and I doubt she’s got the nerve to kill a man with… whatever it is she’s got in her pocket.
Ignoring his companion, Charlie looked into Nadine’s eyes, which were a marvelous multi-hued hazel. Her eyes calmed him down, and he found himself getting lost in them. God… damnit. I don’t need to fall in love now. Not now. Not ever.
But boy, were her eyes pretty.
“Heh… funny story, that,” the woman chuckled.
“Do tell,” Charlie replied, continuing to stare into her gorgeous eyes to avoid thinking about her breasts and staving off his thoughts about taking the clothes off her body and kissing her seductive, beautiful lips…
“Well… I’m sort of running away,” the woman replied hesitantly.
He licked his lips again because he wanted to say, “let me run away with you, let’s go somewhere we can be alone and make countless children.” He wanted so desperately to grab her hand, take it, and run; or better yet, to sweep her off her feet, hold her close to him, and make off into the horizon.
Instead, Charlie gritted himself like a real gentleman, put aside his thoughts of her legs and what was bewtween them, clenched his teeth, and thoughtfully responded: “Is that so?”
Nadine sighed and shook her head. “Bad relationship. Terrible marriage. I finally decided I’d had enough and…”
His sword chuckled. Then you had the bad luck of running into this sex-starved beast.
Ignoring the commentary and the hardening bulge in his pants, Charlie bit his tongue. “So you have no idea where you’re going.”
“As far away from my husband as possible. Wherever the wind takes me, so to speak.”
She should be trying to get away from us, too.
“Wouldn’t a divorce make more sense?” Charlie tried to reason.
“Oho, don’t you start talking to me about what I should do. You don’t know my husband, the kind of maniac he is. If I mentioned anything about divorce…”
She also doesn’t know you, and the kind of maniac you are… in bed. You should try and fix that.
He shrugged. Her husband must’ve been a real psycho, and probably not just in bed.
As if reading his mind, Nadine said, “let’s just say my husband’s a real psycho and leave it at that.”
“Guessing he wasn’t that way when you met him, huh?” Charlie conversed.
“Well… we had our share of good times. Maybe we got married too fast, too young, before I really understood what kind of man he was… and what kind of woman I was.”
The kind of woman that wants you to take her by force, show her who’s a man. Really pound it into her.
Charlie nodded in understanding even as he melted at the thought of coitus. “It happens.”
Sex. That also “happens”.
“What about you, you got anyone special? Or you probably can’t remember, huh,” Nadine smiled sheepishly. She looked insanely cute, and for a moment, Charlie’s mind went blank. Then he glanced at his sword before looking back at Nadine. “Just myself and this tin-can opener,” he said dryly.
I’ll open her tin can for you, show you what a real man’s like.