Crazy in Colorado by Portia Hen

Crazy in Colorado

PORTIA HEN

Copyright © 2015 Portia Hen All rights reserved. ISBN: 1514881748 ISBN-13: 978-1514881743

DEDICATION To Bob Marley And the generation that he inspired

OTHER BOOKS BY PORTIA HEN (This Old Whore Series) In the Name of the Father and the Son, Book 1 Lord of the Hacienda, Book 2 Humped on Camelback Mountain, Book 3 Husband and his Best Friend Have I Loved, Book 4 Insane Connection, Book 5 Happy Ending Masseuse, Book 6 Swingers‟ Paradise, Book 7 A Man with a Gun, Book 8 Peeping Frank, Book 9

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I am grateful to my dearest friends Innoh and Rayrae who endlessly debate on the pleasures of smoking weed. Also grateful to my readers who continue to inspire me to write more. Your thoughts and reviews always make my day. I am also grateful to Jim for being an easy client, therefore, enabling me to have many idle hours at work. Because of easy attitude, I was able to develop the plot for this short book.

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1 “She‟s cuckoo!” the female cop whom I was speaking with on the phone whispered. “Don‟t tell me you are still on that same call. Waste of time,” a male voice responded. I didn‟t speak. I was on the phone with the police reporting a crime which was about to be committed on me. I was about to be murdered and they were not taking it too seriously. I heard deep laughter. Mingled with a series of giggles. “The moon is out. It‟s a full moon season. That‟s when all these crazies come out. Sorry, hun, handle it,” a man‟s voice. Then he laughed. “I am not cuckoo!” I shouted into the phone. “Don‟t you get it? This is the second time I am calling you today. What are you going to say after I am murdered? What will be your excuse for not saving me?” Feeling quite sorry for myself, I hang up the phone and went to sit on the couch. And thought of what had transpired today. I had spent the better part of the afternoon at the cop station, trying to persuade the police officers that I needed constant 24/7 protection. 1

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“From whom do you need protection?” they kept asking. “I don‟t know his name. But I can recognize him.” Eventually they had whisked me out of the cop shop and told me to come back when I had more concrete evidence that I was about to die. For the moment, while they had noted my complaint, they couldn‟t arrest a man just because he had moved to an apartment in the block where I resided.

I open a can of Budweiser and plop myself on the couch and switch on the TV. Staring at it, blind to the images that flicker on the screen. I am preoccupied. Scared. Nobody believes me when I tell them how scared I am. The events of that bizarre night remain blurry but I freeze up when I remember. Sometimes I wake up at night sweating, groaning, turning and tossing around. I can‟t go back to sleep once I am awake. This nightmare doesn't end. My bed sheets are often soaked wet and I have to change them otherwise I shall freeze to death. I have of course seen a therapist but it hasn‟t helped. I think it is because the therapists study me with that wary look of „Oh yeah, this one is bonkers, can‟t be helped, won‟t be helped‟. Although of course they won‟t say it directly, but one can feel what they‟re thinking. So as I was saying, this man followed me home tonight. Only he didn't actually trail me. He went into the apartment downstairs. I asked the doorman about him. And I was informed that he has rented an apartment in the building. I know for sure he is 2

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the man from my past. He is the man with the one glass eyeball. It‟s hard to erase that first horrifying moment when I first saw that glass eyeball. It's etched in my mind and has chilled me for years. And he is now living downstairs? Can this be a bizarre coincidence? That, from this entire sprawling city, he chose to rent an apartment in my block? Nope. I think there is more to this than meets the eye. What do I do? Perhaps I am running mad again.... Earlier that afternoon, I went to the police and they said they won't arrest him. Technically he hasn‟t done anything wrong. He hasn‟t approached me. He hasn‟t shown any signs that he wants to harm me. Is there anybody whom I can stay with for the moment? That‟s what the police officers finally asked me. I couldn‟t believe this. They were asking me to move out of my apartment temporarily if I was that frightened. I told them I wasn‟t going to move out and they owed it to me to protect me. It was all sheer bravado of course. I am terrified. So, you can imagine my shock, when I saw him again in the parking lot this evening. He stared straight at me and I think he recognized me because he smiled and winked. Okay, I can‟t be sure if he winked, because you know he does have only one good eye. The one eyed man who nearly killed me when I refused to have sex with him after I lost a bet at strip poker. I am pretty sure this is the man who took off his fake glass eyeball and furiously flung it across the room, where it hit a wall and shattered into a thousand pieces as I sat there numb with fear.

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I decided I would telephone the police again. “911, what is your emergency?” the tired voice on the other end of the phone asked. “You have got to help me! Somebody is going to kill me tonight!” “Ma‟am, now I want you to calm down and give me more information so I can help you.” The voice of the dispatcher was rather calm. He didn‟t sound like he was in a hurry. Like this was an emergency and I was scared to death and I was paralyzed and couldn‟t think straight. “The man! You don‟t fucking get it. Please help me. Send someone here. I know it. He‟s going to kill me. He tried to kill me before…” “Ma‟am, where is this man right this moment?” “Downstairs. In the apartment below mine.” “Is this someone that you know?” “I have met him before.” “What is his name?” “I don‟t know!” “But you know he wants to kill you?” “Yes.” “Are your doors locked?” “Yes.” “Windows?” “Yes.” “Name?” “Portia Hen.” “Ah, let me see, Portia Hen! Isn‟t this the third time you have called today?” “Yes.” I knew he was asking the standard questions. Going 4

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through the motions, he didn‟t sound bothered. “Please hurry. Send someone to arrest him.” “Ma‟am, what is your address?” I rattled off the apartment number and street address, city, zip code and confirmed that the number I had used to make this call was the best number to reach me at. “If he doesn‟t kill me before you get here.” “We are on our way ma‟am. Stay calm. Don‟t open any doors or windows. Stay away from the windows. You are going to be just fine, Portia Hen.” I hang up the phone and went back to sit on the couch. The noise from the apartment below mine hadn‟t stopped. He had been banging the floor the whole evening, like he was dragging around heavy furniture or cutting up bodies. I tiptoed to the front door and looked through the peephole. There was nobody out in the hallway. So I sank onto the carpet right by the door and sat down. If the man was going to kill me tonight, he would have to push past me, right at the door. I wasn‟t going to hide in the closet or anything. That‟s where the axe murderers always check first. They know by now that people hide in the closets. Or the bathroom; and they sure know how to time a person when they are naked and luxuriating under the shower. Not me, I had watched enough horror movies to know that the murderer always and invariably comes into your house when you are in the shower. When you have just slathered the shampoo in your hair and can‟t see a thing. And there is always mist from the hot water. Five minutes later someone banged on my door. “Police! Open up! It‟s the police!” How very dramatic they were. Just as I had expected. I heaved a sigh of relief. Stood up. Eye to the peephole… I shrunk back with shock. Knocking on my door was the man I had called the police to make a report about. He was wearing a cop‟s uniform. 5

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The man was at my door and pretending to be a policeman. Impersonating the police is a big crime or didn‟t he already know that? I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. I dialed 911 again. “911, what is your emergency?” “This is Portia Hen. Again. I called ten minutes ago about a man who wants to kill me.” “One moment please.” “Portia, we did send someone to your residence. Is he there yet?” “The man that is knocking on my door, the man that you say you sent, which I don‟t believe, is the very same one that is trying to kill me. Can I get some help please?” The man at my front door was knocking and banging the door harder. “Oh my God! He is here! He is going to kill me. He is trying to break down the door!” I yelled. “Ma‟am, did you get a good look at the person who is outside your door?” “Yes. I am telling you, it is the man who wants to kill me. I gotta go!” I left the line dangling, didn‟t hang up. I have seen that also in movies. You never hang up the 911 call. You keep them on hold so that they can listen in as you are being killed and hopefully after you are dead, God rest your soul, they can use that evidence to bring the killer to book. All evidence recorded. I ran into my bedroom. Rummaged under my bed. I have always prepared for such emergencies. Well, let‟s just say I need this thick almost ten meter long rope, which I now remove from its hiding place. I don‟t know what I am doing but I know I must get out of the apartment first. There is only one way out. Panting, I fling the balcony doors open. They are a little tight and I almost break them but finally I am out on the balcony. I tie the rope to the railing and make sure it‟s tight. I 6

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don‟t want the rope to slip when I try to slide down to the ground floor. The rope is firm. I test it gingerly for I can‟t risk breaking my bones. I glide down using the rope and when I am two meters from the grass I let go and drop down. I land in a heap and do a cartwheel on the grass and then I see the shoes in front of me. I look up slowly, again just like in the movies. The man that was knocking on my door, the man in a police uniform is standing right there. “Are you alright?” I don‟t respond. “Why did you run when I knocked on the door? Is something the matter?” How can I tell this man that I am afraid of him. I just reported him to the police and they sent him to me. Could this be possible? “Did you say there was someone trying to kill you?” “No. There must be some mistake.” I respond. “So, do you make it a habit to leave your apartment in this fashion?” “Please go away!” I yell. “Ma‟am, you made a report to the police. You called 911. I have to find out if there was adequate need or cause for alarm. We are here to protect and serve you.” Wow! This is a new one. My potential murderer is saying that he is here to protect me. That‟s when I break into a run. The man is gaining fast on me. I can hear the thud of his heavy boots on the sidewalk. “Stop!” he shouts. I continue running. If he is going to kill me, he might as well work for it. I am not going quietly. Two minutes later, he jumps on my back and tackles me. The ground rises to meet my face. I may have broken my jaw. I don‟t know why I imagined I could run away from this nightmare that began a few years ago. I struggle against him. But he is too strong for me. Soon, I have been 7

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thrown into the waiting police car. How did he even get a real police car? In ten minutes we are at the police station. I have to make a statement about tonight‟s telephone calls which they are now saying were prank calls. And that‟s where I tell them this story, these terrible things that happened to me a few years ago. And this man, my arresting officer was there. He was the one who did some of those grotesque acts to me. I am pretty sure that he is the one. But please, allow me to tell you the events of that night so that you can judge and draw your own conclusion…

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2 Two policemen are taking turns interrogating me. Of course they are playing the good cop and the bad cop. That‟s how it always happens. “Where do you want to start?” the good cop asks. “I guess I should start by telling you about Fred Harmont.” “And who is this Fred? Is he the killer?” asks the bad cop. “He is a man that I used to know.” “Continue,” the good cop beckons to me as he takes notes. “I grew up in Pueblo, Colorado.” “Yes?” “It's a little town with about 100,000 people and is approximately 100 miles south of Denver, the biggest city in Colorado.” “I know Denver. Skip the unnecessary details.” “Pueblo is a small rural city, and so there was really nothing to do. And this pertains especially to those days when I was young. Luckily as children, we were allowed to play out on the street, not like these days when kids have to stay indoors and play on video games. I remember 9

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playing till it got really dark and then running home and getting quite the spanking from my mum, but that didn't deter me from continuing my escapades.” “Looks like we are going to be here all night,” bad cop mutters as he refills his cup of coffee. “About a mile from where we lived there was an extremely large building behind high gates and the weird thing is that it was surrounded by a wall all round it. Fred and Lamar and Georgina and I used to play truant when we were in middle school.” “Who is Lamar and who is Georgina?” “They were my childhood best friends forever. We would run away from school during lunch hour and every evening when school was over, we would take a walk to that house and stare at the people behind the gates. There seemed like hundreds of people and they were all really weird.” “Define weird.” “Well, they would be making all these sounds, like kind of screaming silently, some of them rather loudly, a few would be gesticulating and they would just walk around the grounds endlessly.” “How old were you then?” “We started going to that house as eight year olds all the way to the time we were twelve. We spent a lot of time just observing these people who were locked away behind the high gate. Sometimes they would run up to us at the gate and make threatening gestures at us and some other men who wore white uniforms would run and shout at us to bugger off you little imps…” “Terrifying experience? Don‟t worry about me. We got the whole night. It‟s quiet tonight. No murderers out there,” says the good cop. I am drawn to him. He has a very comforting voice. The type that makes you calm down. And confide in him. That‟s alright. I need to talk. I want to speak the whole night so I don‟t have to go to my apartment. 10

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“Yes, terrified is an understatement.” I say. Another cop had come into the room. It was getting rather chilly. I asked if there was a blanket or shawl that I could cover myself with. A female cop brought a rather grimy checked blanket and I threw it around my shoulders. Better to be here at the cop station than back at my house. “So you went to this house every single day? And were frightened by the occupants?” “We would be petrified and we would run all the way home, never mind that we were out of breath and we would collapse outside our houses and we would laugh hysterically. The terror that we experienced was such fun during the day but at night it was a different matter...” “Whom did you live with?” “My mother and my grandmother. At night, we could hear the blood curdling screams coming from those people in that house and listening to the grownups, we knew the house was where mad people were locked up.” “Asylum?” “Those days they called these people, the loonies and where they lived was called the loony bin.. So anyway at night there would be these loud and I do mean extremely piercing loud screams of agony. Sometimes my grandmother would tell us stories of how she herself used to be tied up in a strait jacket and shocked using real live electricity and she would scream and nobody would help her. And she would tell us that if we were not good children we would be thrown into the loony bin and the keys to the gate would be locked away and we would live with those people.” “That must have been scary,” says good cop. “Not really. She made it all sound like fun. She asked us if we had seen the people and we lied to her and said that we hadn't because we didn't want to get into trouble for cutting school. Life continued this way. During the day we would sneak to the big house and watch the people. At 11

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night grandma would tell us about the loonies and we would grip our blankets tight, our faces all pale and swearing to be good kids...” “And then?” “One day, when we were about thirteen years old, we went to the loony bin and found the gates open and we went in after a lot of debate. To our shock, we found that there were no people there. It seemed like they had all vanished into thin air...” “Where did they go?” asks good cop. “No idea. Fred, Lamar, Georgina and I walked around the big empty halls of that house and we could hear echoes of the people who had lived there. The hundreds of people that we had been watching for many years had disappeared. Life continued. At night grandma would scare us and tell us one of the loonies now lived in the basement. At that point, mummy being hard up on money had rented out the basement to a man who said he was a plumber. He kept to himself, going out very early in the morning and returning late at night. He had this long weird beard and brown broken teeth and one eye and I was terrified of him, especially when grandma told me that if I was a bad girl that man would eat me up...so as you can see I grew up scared of the loony bin and any man that didn't quite look like everybody else...Fred and Lamar and Georgina and I finished high school and graduated.” The bad cop comes back into the room. He addresses the good cop. “Emergency. Accident out on Highway 35. Let‟s go.” I panic. “What about me?” I ask. “Somebody will take you home now. Come back tomorrow and we can finish taking your statement.”

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3 The cop car races me to my apartment. The good cop walks me to my door, waits for me to find the other key that I hide in the flowerpots. He comes in with me and I insist that he checks the apartment before he goes away. I am now very paranoid. When he finally leaves I grab a duvet from the bedroom and return to the living room and I turn on the TV. I am going to crush on the couch as I lose myself in The Golden Girls. I am not so easily distracted tonight. I keep relieving my past. Where was I?

Fred, Lamar, Georgina and I, had graduated high school. With our diplomas in our pockets, we set out from rural Pueblo to Denver, the big city and we soon joined the University of Colorado, found part-time jobs in pubs 13

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and factories, attended college classes only if they were compulsory, bummed around, but mostly with our new found freedom we drunk a lot of alcohol... Colorado is also famous for being one of the first states to legalize weed. Those days weed was not legal but it was in cheap plentiful supply so we would spend our days getting high and singing Bob Marley and the reggae roots songs, No Woman No Cry, it's gonna be alright and all those others... Man, those were the carefree days. During the last year of college, Fred and I began dating... It was an easy love; we were totally into each other since we had grown up together. I had always thought I would meet some sweet handsome guy from far away and move away from Colorado but I tucked away these dreams when I discovered by chance that Fred, the next door boy was just right for me. The last year in college went by swiftly. I was high on weed, drunk on alcohol and getting my pussy pounded. Fred and I had both been virgins and we had discovered and explored the new sensual and sexual pleasures together. We invested in the Kama sutra book and we did all the styles in that book. There were of course some that required a lot of twisting and being agile and flexible and somehow with the influence of the weed we nearly perfected them. Sex for breakfast, sex for lunch, sex for dinner with weed and alcohol was what we did the whole day. We barely scrapped through the last year in college but we made it. We were inseparable. You couldn't say Portia Hen without saying Fred in the same sentence. After college, we moved out of the dorm rooms. Fred and I rented an apartment and started living together. Lamar and Georgina had tried to date but it didn't last a week, they were just too much alike, they yelled at each other plenty and one day after a few drinks at the pub, 14

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Georgina hit Lamar with a bottle and that was the end of the affair. Fred always told me he really feared Georgina, she was just too temperamental... He couldn't deal with a temper like hers and he was surprised that the four of us had remained friends for such a long time...

Fast-forward to tonight, I am rehashing these memories when I hear a thud. Oh dear, the man downstairs has returned. He is shuffling around and is he moving furniture again? Why does he make so much noise? My lights are all off. The only light in the apartment is from the pictures on the TV. I grab the remote control and reduce the volume. It seems I am not going to sleep tonight. I am going to stay awake and listen to the noises from downstairs. As long as I can hear the sounds, I think I am safe. Still, I put on my sneakers and a jacket in case I need to run out of the apartment for dear life. At some point I fall asleep and the next thing I know, it is already light out. I glance at the alarm clock on the coffee table. It is 10.00 am. I am supposed to go back to the cop station at 2.00 this afternoon. Since I am extremely tired from trying not to close my eyes, I take this opportunity to take a power nap. Who knows, tonight might be worse. Let me rejuvenate my body so I can be strong for tonight. The man downstairs is no joke, though it seems so far, nobody wants to believe me when I say that he wasn‟t to kill me. Half an hour later, I am wide awake. I am plagued by 15

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the memories of yesteryear.

Our jobs in Denver, Colorado were alright for entrylevel jobs. But still we yearned to explore the US of A. We had never travelled out of Colorado. We saved up. And a year later, the four of us moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and we all secured great jobs and life was just peachy. Fred and I continued to date and live together. Lamar met a girl and got married. Georgina continued to drift from boy to boy and Fred would say mean stuff about her being such a whore and we would laugh about it and he would tease her about never finding somebody since she was such a meanie. As for Fred and I, our love blossomed and one day on bended knee, he told me that I would always be the miracle that made his life complete, he crossed his heart and promised to make my dreams come true and I cried that night as I said yes that we would always be together. How very touching. He would always keep me warm and we would die in each other‟s' arms. I knew I would never find a love that was as true as Fred's. He knew everything about me and totally understood me. I dreamt of the children we would have and the little cute house that we would buy together where I would spend lots of time as a barefoot pregnant housewife raising our children and telling them wild stories such as those my grandma had told me... For the next three months, Fred and I were planning our wedding. It would be a small wedding during the summer and we would hold it back home in Pueblo. 16

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My mum‟s health had become increasingly poor and she had since moved into an assisted living facility for seniors. Strangely, grandma still lived in our old house on her own. She was made of finer stock than her daughter. Fred's parents were still in good health and continued to live in their old house on Jefferson Avenue. Lamar's parents also lived in the same old house. Georgina's great aunt was also still alive and lived in the same house. As in, time had stood still for the people in Pueblo. I had gone back several times to visit my grandma and she hadn't changed much. She still tried to scare me but now I was all grown and I knew the loony bin had been an asylum for mentally ill patients and the government had closed it down because the patients had been mistreated and were never getting well. The government had transferred the patients to other asylums but I pretended to believe grandma when she said that the loonies still walked around at night and if I was a bad girl, they could come for me. Anyway, all our folks were excited about our upcoming wedding and plans were going well. I had ordered the most exquisite gown that I saw in a magazine and I had spent almost three months' salary on it; but I knew it would be totally worth it for I was marrying the man that I truly loved. The one who completed me, who would always be there for me, on whose broad shoulders I could count, who kissed me ever so tenderly and called me pet names that brought tears to my eyes and made me so misty eyed just thinking of all the happiness that my future held... I believed in love. I believed in Fred. I was blind to the world. My world centered around Fred and our future. Until the day Georgina failed to turn up for work... I had gone down to Pueblo for the weekend to confirm the booking of the little church for our wedding. 17

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Among a thousand things that go into making a wedding day memorable, I had to arrange for the flowers from old Maisy; make sure the suits fitted the boy who would carry the ring and check that the flower girls' little white lacy dresses fit perfectly. Everything had gone well and I was all smiles as I drove back to Albuquerque. When I pulled into the driveway at our home, I noted that Fred‟s car was missing and he wasn't waiting for me as he normally did when he knew I was on the way home. It was a little strange but it didn‟t bother me too much. He always had a warm dinner and a hot bath waiting for me and then we would catch up on all the sex that we hadn't had that weekend. Fred arrived about two hours later and he seemed tired and irritable as I chatted gaily about how well the plans were going. Later on, he pleaded that he was tired from work and didn't make love to me. I was a bit disappointed but I let it go. The next day, a Monday, we all went to work. On that day, Georgina's boss called me to say that Georgina hadn't been to work for her weekend shift and this was the third consecutive day she was absent and they had tried to call her and she hadn't picked up the phone and could I get in touch with her and tell her that if she didn't call them immediately, they would fire her ass for being a noshow… I said yes of course, I would go to Georgina's apartment and find out what was happening. To this day I curse why I made that mistake... Okay no, the first mistake was becoming friends with Georgina. I knew she had always been selfish and mean but we had been firm friends. When I called her phone several times and she didn't answer or call back, I became more worried and I decided to go to her house and find out what was up. One other strange thing was that I didn't call Fred. I 18

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always ran everything by him. And I mean everything. I would even ask him the color of panties to buy and which one to wear on which day. So as fate had decided, I didn't call him. I drove to Georgina's house and knocked severally on the door. There was no response. Panic filled me. Perhaps Georgina was dead. Murdered, God forbid. It‟s been known to happen. Single women living on their own are vulnerable. I went around to the back door and fished for her key from one of the flower pots and opened her back door and walked into the living room.. What I saw changed my life forever... I am sure you already guessed what I saw, so I won't dwell too much on it. It still hurts to date when I remember those two bodies entwined together, with his dick in her pussy. The dick that I had thought was mine forever, the man that had broken my virginity and I his, was busy screwing Georgina. I ran out of there like the devil was after me and I drove for miles and miles as tears streamed down my cheeks and then I sobered up and I started feeling so angry and so wasted and so stupid. How could I not have foreseen this? I tried to think back to see what signs or clues I had missed that I should have been looking out for. Several hours later when I returned home just before midnight, I found Fred in the living room waiting for me and he said we should talk about it and I sat down to listen to this sorry excuse of a man who had betrayed me so deeply. He explained that since he had only been with me in matters sexual, he had felt like the walls were closing in on him and he needed to play the field and try out other women before committing to me and Georgina had been the one who seduced him. And I sat there listening without any visible emotion 19

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as each word that he said pierced me and drew a little blood and I thought I was going to die. I thought of the revenge that I could exert but there was nothing that I could think of that would take away the excruciating pain. And I cried till morning as Fred begged me to stop crying and asked me what he could do to make this better. I thought he was suitably sorry and that I could forgive him and we could try to mend the tattered relationship but how wrong I was.....

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4 Three days later, Fred married Georgina. I had been so clueless and so blind to the extent that I didn't know they were planning their wedding. Fred gave his last name to a different woman. The name that was supposed to be mine. She was going to have his children and live the life that I planned in my dreams. I cried when I heard that they got married. Then I got really drunk for the next three days. I fueled on cocaine and cheap wine and then I met a stranger at the bar and brought him home and I had sex with him and afterwards I cried as I looked at Fred's picture on my nightstand and realized that even sleeping with somebody else hadn't healed the pain and the anger in me. I had been crying the whole day when finally I decided to get into the car and drive to grandma's place in Pueblo so I could pour out my heart to the one person that I knew loved me unconditionally. It was already seven o‟clock in the evening when I slung a little overnight bag on the back seat of my little Jeep and set off. It would take me around six hours so I would 21

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probably get there around one o‟clock or maybe around midnight if I speeded. Sweet grandma had said she would wait up for me. I had been driving for about four hours and was close to Pueblo. I could see the familiar Colorado landscape scattered with the Indian Navajo settlements, the hidden poverty of America, the houses that have no water or electricity where people are dirt poor but nobody ever talks about them. I had passed the four corners monument where the four states of Arizona, Colorado, Utah and New Mexico intersect. I was crying and it was raining heavily outside and I had been listening to the radio issuing warnings to the citizens telling them to stay indoors but I had ignored the broadcasts. I intended to make it to Pueblo that night. The sirens were blaring on the radio and I was just driving and crying… And driving… One hour after I had taken the intersection, I realized I had made the wrong turn... I was completely lost and there was no one in sight. Those were not the days of smartphones and GPS, so I hadn‟t an inkling where I was. It was getting darker and my fuel gauge indicated that I had less than a quarter tank of gas. I figured that if I continued driving I would soon come to a gas station, you know all those truck driver stopover points always have some gas station. I had been driving for another twenty miles in the rain, in the dark getting more scared as I realized I was lost in my own native Colorado and I was wondering if I should turn back when I heard a loud bang from the back of my car. I know the sound of a puncture. I cursed out loud as I crawled to a stop and got out of the car into the rain and prepared to change the flat tire. That was when I realized I didn't have the right jack 22

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and just in time I remembered that Fred had used it two weeks previously and must have forgotten to return it. Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot tears of anger and bitterness and self-pity at how cruel the world had suddenly become; how everything and everybody was ganging up against me. I crawled back into the car and shrugged off my wet jacket and was preparing to spend the night by the roadside praying and hoping that nothing would happen to me. Slowly I relaxed and was just beginning to doze off when I sighted the lights from the rear view mirror. It was the blue and red flashing lights of the cop car. Now if you live in America, you know those lights can be such a relief when you need help. Or they can be terrifying and signal the end of your freedom when you have committed a crime and those lights are chasing you on the highway… At this point for me, it was such a relief to see a police car crawl over and park behind me. I glanced through my side mirror as the tall cop came over to the driver‟s side of my car. I rolled down the window and he bent down to talk to me. “Having trouble here ma‟am?” “Yes officer. Flat tire, in the middle of nowhere.” “Let me see your driver‟s license and registration?” He took his time examining the documents and then he finally handed them back to me. “Not from around here, are you?” “I used to be. Pueblo.” “Well, you are a long ways from Pueblo, young lady.” He asked a few more questions basically on what I was doing on this godforsaken road in the middle of the night all alone. I explained to him that I was on my way to see family and I had the flat tire and I was unable to continue and that I didn't have the right jack and could he please help me change the tire. 23

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He went round the back of the car and examined the size of my tire and then he announced that he didn't have the right equipment and was really sorry about that. “Perhaps you can call for backup? See if another officer has the right tools?” “No, I have a much better idea…” “Yes?” That was when he pointed out to a farmhouse that was about a quarter of a mile from the road. The lights flickered in the distance. Funny I hadn't seen it all the while I sat there. He said that I could crawl along to the farmhouse and perhaps they would help me... “It is more dangerous for you out here on the road. Better to have your car parked out at the farmhouse. And they might give you something to eat. Folks around here are good people.” The thought of a nice cup of hot tea or soup to warm my cold exhausted bones had me convinced. I was tired and hungry and I didn‟t have any food in the car. Obviously the idea of the farmhouse was pleasant. I turned on the ignition and I drove slowly quite aware that I had completely ruined the rim. I would get round to it tomorrow morning, better to get out of the dangerous main road, and of course better to be surrounded by the people at the farmhouse. I soon crawled to a stop outside the farmhouse and went and knocked on the door....

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5 I knocked on the door. There was no response. For about two minutes, I stood there banging pretty hard on the door. Still, there was silence from the dark farmhouse. They had probably gone to sleep. Then finally as I was about to turn away and walk back to my car, an old lady threw open the door. “Get in quickly!” she screamed before I could greet her and explain my predicament. Her accent was different. Certainly not from around here, I thought as I struggled to understand what she was saying. She yelled at me to get in out of the rain and said something like she didn't want me to dirty the house with mud; she would have to clean all over again and she was tired of doing that. I was surprised at the way she yelled at me and for an instant, I thought of turning back from the angry welcome and driving back to the highway. But looking back through the darkness, I immediately decided that it was better to get into the house. Better the hostile old woman than the darkness out 25

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there where the Colorado mountain lions roamed. She banged the door shut. She limped slowly in front of me and I followed her through a dim shadowy hallway. I figured the poor old thing had arthritis or some similar old lady bones' ailment. We emerged into what appeared to be the living room and she offered me a seat. Just like the hallway, this room too was dimly lit. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the light. That was when I noticed that there were about ten men and two women in the room. They were seated at the large farmhouse dining table, and they were be playing a game of cards. The old woman asked me not to move from the seat she had assigned me as she went to fix for me some soup... I sat still and looked around. I was thankful that my body was warming up and I shifted slightly making myself more comfortable. My eyes were darting everywhere trying to take in the surroundings. The furniture was from the last century. The men were drinking from beer mugs and continued to play their game. The two women had moved from the table and sat by the roaring fireside and were studying me in what seemed to me to be amusement. I figured it was just a woman thing. They had seen another woman come into the house and their antennae was up, so probably marking territory. The room was quite dim but soon I was picking up things that I hadn't seen on first glance. I focused on one of the men. He had the strangest longest beard I had ever seen. Country bumpkin doesn't shave I thought. Then he stood up and walked over to me and asked me whether I wanted to play. His words were slurred, such as those that come from a drunk man, but not quite. He was stuttering but not quite. I didn‟t answer, being so 26

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mesmerized by his looks. He repeated his request. “Do you want to play?” “No, thank you. Perhaps another time.” I said. He grinned and exposed broken teeth that probably hadn't been attended to by a dentist in a long time. I stared at him, and he said that I would have to play later… Then he laughed this really weird laughter which chilled me… In that moment, as soon as I heard that laughter, I remembered the people that I used to see in the loony bin when I was a child. Another man from the table laughed… Another one yelled like he was dying... Another one made some wild signs... That's when I looked at the old woman who was hobbling in from the kitchen carrying a bowl of soup and I noticed that she too had unkempt hair, which no comb would ever pass through. I heard another man scream, and couldn't make out what he was saying... Then another one stood up and threw himself on the floor and was rolling around like he was in awful pain… My eyes grew wider and wider...

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6 I was chilled to the bone both from the surroundings, the ancient furniture and the funny mannerisms of the farmhouse dwellers. All of them looked scary and weird; life seemed to have taken a toll on them or stood still for some of them. Their hairstyles were from back in the days and their clothes appeared last century. Now you have to note, it's not like they were dirty or anything. But there was just something unexplainable, spooky, and creepy even. In the stories grandma had told me, she had vividly described the loonies and this is how they were fixed in my imagination. I tried to talk myself out of my morbid thoughts, even trying to convince myself that the weed I had smoked over the last one week when I had fallen into the deep abyss of hell and back was finally getting to me, plus with all the sorrow and tears that I had expended, it was a wonder that I could still think logically. So I decided these must just be poor farmers from the area gathered for their weekly bingo game. I looked at the oldest one who appeared over seventy and imagined that poverty plus the hard work they put in on the farm under the hot Colorado sun was what gave them that very 28

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hard look, and perhaps they did not have a barber for miles around hence their faces were bushy with grey hair. Two of the guys appeared weathered from old age, yet they at the same time looked quite young, quite a contradiction, I thought. Toiling on the farms had probably greyed them. I continued to sit there justifying to myself the weird feeling in the pit of my tummy which said I was in trouble... The old woman had long returned from the kitchen with a bowl of soup and placed it before me on a little side table. I looked at the dirty brown muddy soup and a wave of nausea hit me and I held my breath so that I wouldn't throw up. The old woman was watching me and when I looked up and met her eyes, my heart missed a beat. Her eyes were oddly white. They didn‟t have any visible pupils. The stare was blank and if there was any way I could describe a dead man's look, mind you I haven't seen a dead man's look, but these eyes would have fit that description perfectly. My stomach turned over and I felt dizzy and my legs felt so heavy like they were glued to the floor. "Drink up." she said. Her voice was hoarse and scratched the air in a most eerie manner. “I am not so hungry.” I said. "It's going to be a long night." she said. "My name is Felicity. What is yours?" I told her. And then as she continued to stare at me with that disembodied look, I decided to take the bull by the horns. Might as well know what was in store for me. "Are you cult members?” “No.” “Are they going to kill me?" She laughed. A thin high pitched shrill that stopped as suddenly as it began. "No. But they..." she tilted her head towards the men 29

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at the table. “Yeah?” “They are going to ask you to play a game of cards." "Cards? And then?" I asked. "Well it all depends." she shrugged. I stood up. “Depends on what?” “On the outcome. If you win or lose. They are betting people. And the price is high.” I didn‟t want to get in no betting matches or games with these weirdos. "Thanks for the soup but I am not so hungry anymore. I think I shall go and sleep in the car." I started to make a beeline for the door. She shrugged again... “It‟s no use. It‟s no use…” she repeated. She kept repeating that it was just no use as she shrugged more and tagged at her unkempt hair and followed me. Crazies for sure, I thought as I walked to the door. Everyone was staring at me in a most disinterested way. Only the man with the extra-large head broke the silence by laughing out loud. “It‟s just no use...” Felicity repeated. With firm steps I walked towards the door, opened it and stepped out. I removed the car keys from my pocket and quickly ran to the spot under the tree where I had parked my the car. I couldn't see it. I looked again, my eyes slowly becoming used to the pitch darkness. There was no car. Even a blind man could have confirmed that. My car was missing. I walked back towards the house. At the doorway, a man I had not noticed before, came up to me and held out his hand. "My name is Drew. Are you ready to play cards?" “No. I would like to take my leave now. Where is my car?” “Don‟t worry about it. Now come along with me.” “No really. I insist. I would like to leave. I have 30

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bothered you and your friends enough.” He was tall, had dark brown hair that came up to his ears and he had quite a pleasant face. Actually I found him rather handsome and quite charming. He had laugh lines on his face and his baby blue eyes twinkled in quite a naughty seductive manner. He was sheer perfection, one of these men that one only sees in glossy magazines. I was surprised that I hadn't noticed him before. "Come along, I shall tell you how the game works." I didn't say anything as he half dragged me to the table. "Sit down." He pulled up a chair for me. I was seated next to Drew on one side and on the other side, there was a short shrunken man who had a large bulbous nose that might have been broken in a bar brawl. The man with the bulbous nose stared at me without blinking and I was as uneasy as hell. Drew quickly explained the rules of the game. It dawned on me that if I didn't win the game, the only way I would get out of this alive was by having sex with one of the men. I looked around at the ten men seated at the table. All of them definitely had something wrong with them, the blank dead eyes, the bushy beards, one had an egg-shaped head, yet another sat there with saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. Only Drew seemed normal. I looked at him and as our eyes met, he smiled in that charming boyish manner that he had. I wondered idly what this dish of a man was doing amongst these grotesque scary people. "This here is Boyd, that's Glenn, Waspy, Old George..." Drew rattled off the names of the other nine men. The only one whose name stuck in my mind was Glenn because he chose that moment to reach out to his eye and 31

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make as if to rub it. Then he dug deeper and removed something big and round. I stared mouth agape as I realized he was holding one of his eyeballs in his hand. To my shock, he then took out a kerchief from his pocket and began polishing the eyeball. The hole on his face was big and black and deep. I felt a strong urge to pee. I was so scared. Nobody else around the table seemed disturbed by what he was doing. Drew had said I would have to play the cards to get out alive. Win or lose, I would have to have sex with one of them. The only tips I knew about playing poker was from that old Gambler song by Kenny Rogers. Kenny Rogers had said something about knowing what aces to keep and which ones to lose. Something about reading people's faces… Besides that, I really hadn't the vaguest idea. Indeed the night was going to be long. Now I knew why Felicity had said the night was going to be long. I asked Drew to top up my glass with whiskey as old George shuffled the cards.... Old George passed around the cards. I landed a 7 hearts and 3 other random cards which had diamonds on them. I really didn't know what was happening. The man with the glass eye, Glenn, once again during the game removed his eyeball and polished it and deftly inserted it back into its socket while winking with his one good eye. Another man, old George the one who had shuffled the cards removed his teeth and put them in a jar of water. I remembered watching on TV, news on a woman who had got away with murder because she pleaded temporary insanity. Her husband had made her brush his dentures for many years. I kept glancing at the teeth floating in the jar. They were extremely white and glowed 32

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in the dim room. In about five minutes each of the men had thrown back their cards on the table with growing excitement and soon I was the only one with cards in my hand. The verdict was in. I had lost the game and I would have to pick one of the guys to have sex with. By this time I had gulped down the whiskey and asked for another glass and drowned it. Obviously it would have to be the charming Drew with the Texan drawl... I didn‟t care about the moralities of sleeping with strangers. Fred had moved on. I would have sex with Drew…

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7 Everything had happened so fast, and here I was being forced to choose one of the strangers to have sex with. “DREW...” I said. Clearly there was no other suitable choice. It was at this point that glass eyed Glenn spoke up and said tonight was supposed to be his night. Drew had screwed the last woman that was here and it was his, Glenn's turn. He was getting visibly angry as he argued his case. His face was red and the veins on his neck were protruding. I imagined he might collapse or faint but he didn't. Drew said something to him which I didn't catch. Glenn, the one eyed man, turned to me and said I was going with him. My skin was crawling from horror and disgust and revulsion as I said I would do no such thing. Exasperated and extremely angry, Glenn removed his glass eyeball and I thought he might hit me with it as he flung it in my direction. It made a whooshing sound over my head and it smashed into the wall behind me and broke into a thousand smithereens. Then two of the guys jumped up and held Glenn down as he lunged towards me. I thought I heard one of 34

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the men suggest to him that he could as usual watch. He calmed down and was given some whiskey. I also asked for another glass of whiskey to calm my frayed nerves and to prepare me for the ordeal that was about to happen. Sex with any man, even a cute one such as Drew, while being watched is certainly an ordeal. In single file we all trooped towards the barn. Apparently that's where all the sexual sacrifices took place. The rain had long stopped and it was chilly.... Drew pulled me into the barn, pushed aside some of the hay, making space on what seemed to be some type of bed. “It‟s going to be alright. Relax,” he said. He poured some locally made wine into a glass and handed it to me. It was nothing compared to what I am used to but it did not taste bad either. The alcohol content was quite high and so I started getting woozy from my fourth glass of the night, considering I had also taken two glasses of whiskey on an empty tummy. Drew certainly knew what to do with a woman's body or maybe he didn't. I really didn't know because I hadn't had much sexual exposure and besides I was drunker than a skunk. I watched him as he removed his plaid shirt and I could see his bare chest, and suddenly passion and heat stirred in me and I wanted to dig my nails into his manly skin. He noticed my stare and moved closer to me. He kissed me on the lips then looked deep into my eyes and whispered something which I didn't quite catch but I thought it was be brave now, don't scream or something peculiar like that. Anyway it didn't make sense whatever he was saying.... Drew pulled me against his hard chest and started caressing my back while winking at the men and all the time talking to me and saying sweet little nothings. I was turned on. I let out a sigh, mostly of relief that 35

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this wasn't as bad as I expected, thank God I had been clever enough to choose the most handsome and the most normal of the bunch. This would soon be over and they would fix my car and I would be on my way. I felt his hands all over me but I had no strength to stop him. Actually, I didn‟t want to stop him. He pulled me closer, kissed me again on the lips and this time I kissed him back holding the back of his head with one hand. For a moment I forgot we had company. I dropped my wine glass and held him tighter, kissing him deeper and deeper. He opened the buttons on my shirt exposing my tits, and the men watching, gasped in shock at the size. I helped him unzip my jeans and he pulled them off. I discarded my underwear too… Drew was massaging me everywhere, kissing me, nibbling my neck, working his tongue on me. I was enjoying every bit of it. My lustful new self, soon took over and was demanding more and more of him. He turned me over and entered me from behind and my eyes popped open and I almost screamed out loud with pleasure. I was watching from below how his huge cock was finding its way inside me. I closed my eyes to enjoy this feeling deep inside me, but the thought of the 9 men watching us, stopped me in my tracks. The 9 men were cheering him on asking him to hit it harder and harder. They knew exactly what I needed and they saved me from asking Drew to hit hard. In my drunken state, I opened my eyes and noticed one man was busy tugging at Drew's leg and briefly I wondered what was happening. Then I saw the leg come off and immediately I realized that Drew wore a prosthetic leg. The man was now holding Drew‟s fake leg in the air. Drew was struggling to balance on his one good leg as he 36

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thrust deeper. There we were, him standing on one leg and his other leg was deep in me, well it did feel like a third leg because it was so huge. I could feel it smashing into my navel, my belly button and almost cracking my ribs each time he thrust. Then I noticed that the man holding the prosthetic leg had moved closer to us and I froze, as in I really froze. The fear immobilized me. There I was bent over with my ass in the air and a monster dick in me. Drew held me tight with one hand and prevented me from falling. Greg the one eyed man rushed forward and grabbed the prosthetic leg... .

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8 I wanted to run when I saw Greg holding the prosthetic leg. Somehow I sensed things had taken a turn for the worse. I wrestled to get out of Drew‟s firm grip. Before I could regain my senses Drew pushed me down to the hay and he turned me over and entered me from the front and then with precision with the monster dick still in me, he turned me around such that he was now lying on his back and I was riding him with my naked butt up in the air. I felt Drew half hold my butt cheeks tightly like he was trying to spread them open. I was breathing heavily bumping to the impact of his thrusting. My oh my this one legged man had so much energy. My pussy was dripping and I could hear the wet sloppy sounds as he dug hard. I felt him deep inside me, his member hitting my G-spot, and just then I felt something hard hit my ass, as if someone had spanked me. I did not know what hit me but that impact gave me a mini orgasm and then I looked around and from the corner of my eye I saw Glenn preparing to swing the prosthetic leg. 38

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That's when I realized that Glenn had hit me with the leg the first time around. The alcohol left my body and I jumped up and started to run. The leg was up in the air and I felt it hit me on my head as I went down in a slump and welcome darkness surrounded me...

I woke up in a strange room. I opened my eyes very slowly and surveyed my surroundings. The room was pristine white. The bed sheets were white and very crisp and smelled of disinfectant. There were fresh flowers in a bowl sitting on the nightstand. A woman who was dressed in a nurse's scrubs walked in. “It‟s wonderful that you are finally awake. Do you feel better?” “I am fine. Where am I? How did I get here?” “You are in hospital. You were brought in by the police.” She proceeded to take my temperature and my vital signs and then proclaimed that I was fine and perhaps the doctor might discharge me and I could go home that day. “There‟s a cop who has been hovering around the hospital who would like to have you answer some questions before you leave.” I panicked when I remembered the last cop I had dealt with. That was the one who had pointed me to the farmhouse to go seek shelter from the rains and the dark night. “I don‟t think I am equal to the task. I would like to sleep some more, if you don‟t mind.” “It‟s really up to you dear but I would sooner get over 39

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it. He asked that you not be discharged before you record a statement.” “I am tired.” “Okay, dear. I shall let him know.” She was making to leave the room when I made up my mind to get the ordeal over and done with. “Wait. Nurse, please bring him in now. I will talk with him.” When the Sheriff walked into the room, I froze and the smile I had fixed on my face faded. I could have recognized him anywhere. It was the policeman who had directed me to the farmhouse. He drew up a chair and sat next to me. “It‟s nice to see you are awake. You gave us quite the scare, young lady.” “You and whom?” “That would be the officers that brought you here and myself. Well, what happened to you?” he asked me. “Obviously I don‟t know. I am looking at you to tell me what happened, officer. I woke up and found myself here.” “You have no memory of what happened?” he asked. “If I did, I would tell you officer. I don‟t know how I got here. This is all very confusing.” The officer explained that he had found me passed out in my car in a small town in Utah and I had nearly died from exposure to extreme heat and an overdose of cocaine. I told him about the flat tire and he shook his head and said my car was just fine and he had already examined it. “My car doesn‟t have a flat tire?” “No ma‟am.” “Are you sure?” “Positive.” “Young lady, may I call you Portia?” “Of course.” 40

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“Portia Hen, listen to me carefully. And I will only tell you this one time. In Utah, we are not quite as liberal as they are over in Colorado about the use of drugs.” “I am in Utah?” “Yes. So as I was saying, if you must do drugs, I would caution you to stay away from Utah.” “Isn‟t this still America? Where there is freedom and one can go anywhere?” “Not here. You are in my territory now. I am letting you go off easy this time. And may I suggest that you seek therapy and counseling for drug abuse?” “I don‟t do that many drugs.” “The deranged state you were brought in to the hospital told a different story.” “Officer, would you believe anything I say at this point?” “Try me.” “I was held against my will at a farmhouse occupied by loonies.” He looked at me with stone cold eyes and asked if I had any evidence of the allegations that I had just made. I decided at that point not to pursue that theory so I said I didn't have any. The sheriff left after reiterating his warning. I lay there for a while with the nagging feeling that there was something weird about him. Much later as I was eating the hospital dinner it came to me. The way he spoke, his voice and his smile, and the way he walked, had a distinct resemblance to Glenn, the one eyed glass man. They could have been brothers. I never got to confirm any of that. I called Fred and Georgina and pleaded with them to come get me out of the hospital. Which they did quite grudgingly as it interrupted their honeymoon. Six months later I moved to Tucson, Arizona. I have 41

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been feeling quite settled. Until today… I saw one eyed man with the glass eyeball. I can hear him pacing around downstairs. And I am pacing around upstairs... Sweating... Shivering... Oh my fucking God!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What was that noise? My lights just went off...

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NOTE FROM AUTHOR

If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review and some comments on Amazon. We become better writers through practice and feedback. Thank you for reading.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Portia Hen writes during her spare time when she can get time off from her day job. She likes to sip alcohol as she writes and shoos away the kids. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona but dreams of moving to California or New York. Be sure to check out the other twenty titles written by Portia Hen. All of them are available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited, some of them for free. Portia thanks you for leaving a review of this book on Amazon. OTHER BOOKS BY PORTIA HEN (This Old Whore Series) In the Name of the Father and the Son, Book 1 Lord of the Hacienda, Book 2 Humped on Camelback Mountain, Book 3 Husband and his Best Friend Have I Loved, Book 4 Insane Connection, Book 5 Happy Ending Masseuse, Book 6 Swingers‟ Paradise, Book 7 A Man with a Gun, Book 8 Peeping Frank, Book 9 Crazy in Colorado, Book 10

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