Gris Lee Stories

'No man can think clearly when his fists are clenched' ~George Jean Nathan~ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I love the smell of metal in the morning. A dimly lit room. The clearest source of light coming from the lamp on the desk. It watches over my work. The only sounds are the scraping, whirring, buzzing of my tools. The rough texture of gloves over my calloused hands. I am focused. I am the machine. The door clicks open. “Hey Barry, just wanted to catch up on-“ “JESSE DON’T INTERRUPT ME!” I hurl the closest object at my annoying brother. In this case, it happens to be a spanner that whacks him square in the shoulder. He yelps like a little puppy. “Damn it Baron, that one actually hurt!” Jesse moans. I grunt and pull off my safety goggles to look at him. “You’re already wearing your body armour, right?” “No, actually” “Well then it’s yo

'Great events make me quiet and calm, it is only trifles that irritate my nerves' ~Queen Victoria~ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dodge to the left. Dodge to the right. Jump back. Avoid the wild swing she throws your way. You fail; her fist connects with your cheek. Take a breath, wipe off the blood. Wait as she swings again. Duck. Kick out your leg at her shins. She stumbles back, shoes scraping on gravel. In her daze, throw all your weight behind a punch to her gut. If you’re strong enough, she’ll cough up blood and collapse, winded. The others swarm you, praising your strength. No-one checks to see if she’s okay. Congratulations, you survived a street brawl. It feels like knives are carving at the inside of my chest. I take a few small breaths, wincing in pain, then I take one more. The pain doesn’t go away,   but

'As long as habit and routine dictate the pattern of living, new dimensions of the soul will not emerge' ~Henry Van Dyke~ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dodge to the right. Dodge to the left. Jump back. Cast a cold ray, freeze the enemy in place. Dash in, swing three times with the holy blade. Jump back before they break out. Run around in circles for bit, avoid the fire bolts. Wait for the right opportunity. Dodge between the bolts and unleash your super: HOLY LIGHT OF EXCALIBUR! Watch as the enemy bursts, floating above them with golden wings. The captured villagers scramble out of their now unlocked cells to congratulate your victory. “Thank you Miss Faida, you have saved our people from demon Lucifer’s wrath. We are forever in  your debt” Everyone is happy, smiling, laughing. Do do do do doo~ CONGRATULATIONS, YO

On the 30 th of June, in the early hours of the summer’s dawn, I couldn’t breathe. Surrounded by merriment, the drunken chatter, the flattery of my lover. The air was clean despite the smoke. Still, I found myself about to choke. With enough sense to put down the third glass of vodka I rushed to the sofa. Not enough time to be alone, I moaned and reluctantly clutched at the curve of my neck. Blinded, my sanity no longer in check, I couldn’t stop the demon forcing its way into my lungs. My struggle to breathe sung a perishing cry that called the others from the outside. The lover ran first, followed by my friend and the strangers. Not a stranger situation had I seen. Until now the demon had kept me to themselves. Pain had to be secret you see. I didn’t deserve to be healthy and clean. And yet the man I didn’t know and the one I didn’t want to show this side felt inclined to believe otherwise. They said things I wanted to believe were lies. They looked me in the