Stonecutter Pt. 03

Stonecutter is a multipart fantasy. This is the third part, so reading the other two parts will help make sense of it. Thank you Elorra Butler for all your help and encouragement. All mistakes are my own.

Stonecutter pt.3

There before me, the woman that I had not seen for many, many decades, and two seconds later I was knocked out, kicked in my skull by her textbook spinning high flying kick. She was always kind of athletic, but for a woman approaching five hundred and maybe fifty years or so, it was a very good kick. Too bad I was the recipient of said blow. She was a damned good fighter, but sometimes she just couldn't turn it off!

I lay there on the floor, but somehow, I was looking down on myself. I didn't look too good. The women had gang tackled the little cunt and taped her to a chair with duct tape. They were all looking at me and touching my skull at the injury. I wondered if she had killed me. I didn't look too bad for how old I was. Shit, I was old as dirt.

Teresa came running into the room, and started CPR.

She was doing chest compressions. Teresa could ALWAYS be counted on to do the right thing! Audrey ran in and started mouth to mouth. All the women were crying except my ex wife. She sat there with a smirk on her face. She is such a fucking bitch. Has not changed in half a millennia. Suddenly, the door burst open, and there was Jazz and Sandra, still in her white uniform, holding a contraption. It had wires and metal bits and bobs. They were moving very fast. How did Sandra get here? Wasn't she at the airport?

"Watch out! Clear off! We got the defibrillator. Quickly, quickly, get off, and stand back!" Jazz yelled. Sandra placed the metal pads on my chest. Wow, I have a lot of muscles! I don't look half bad from four feet above. I wonder if I'm dead? It's probably not good that I'm looking down on my body, huh? Yeah, that's not a real good sign. I hate to say it, but I feel at peace. It's so quiet. Getting very dark...

"Charging!... Clear!" -Bzzzt- Yeeoow! That really hurts! Ouch. Damn that really hurt!

"Charging! Stay clear!" -bzzzzzt- Woohh! THAT fuckin hurts! Fuck, that hurt a lot! Stop doing that!

"Jazz?" She had her stethoscope on her ears and she was listening to my chest.

"We have a heartbeat! He's alive! Now let's kill the fuckin bitch!" She said with pith and vengeance! All the eyes turned to the damned red headed bitch, and if looks could kill, she would be dead on the floor. Nine times over. They were very fucking upset with her. I suppose I should be as well but I seem to be facing other issues.

"Would you girls like me to get him back to his regular self? In about two minutes?" It sounded a lot like boasting. The sad thing is, she could do it too. The fucking bitch had the power to do just that. That the fucking power was granted to a no good, cheating, cursing, mean, piece of shit like her... Well it irritated me to no end. She was a nasty piece of work, but the Big Man saw fit to bless (curse?) her with the power to heal. It was not her power, but a much higher power. But she was the conduit, if she touched you, she could accelerate the healing process a hundred times faster. An evil bitch should not have such abilities. Our Lord seems to have a huge sense of humor.

"You really should, because we're figuring out where to dump your dead body. How are you going to help him?" Jazz asked her.

"I have the touch. It's called God's touch, the laying on of hands. In truth it is not me. I'm just a pass through. But I can set him to right if I can touch the wound with me hands. It would also help if you all held hands in a circle and two of you touched him as well. Think good positive loving thoughts. It really does help even if you don't believe." She was still tightly bound.

"Free me right hand, and let me touch the wound, and his chest. If I can't help the bastard, you might as well kill me where I stand. The fucker owns me soul as well, same as you all. Excepting for... Well, the fact is... We did stand up and trade vows a long time ago. We were too poor to exchange rings back then! I was his blushing bride! I haven' seen 'im in over two hundred years, and he still makes me cry. I hate 'im. I hate meself the worse, a 'cause I... I still love the foukin bastard piece of shite! He owns me very soul like he was the divil. Come on, hurry now, a'fore he gets his little brain damaged, and he can't 'ford to lose too many more brain cells. He didn' have too many to start with! Instead of talking with ghosts he'll be talking to the house plants!" I swear she smiled, that foukin bitch.

They freed her hands, both of them, and she gently touched my crushed skull and my chest. Her touch felt as marvelous as it had in the past. I hate what she can do. Her nimble and gentle fingers worked the damn magic that she was granted at birth. She had a look of concentration and then of surprise.

"He was in a bad fight! He's got a bunch of serious wounds. How did this happen? I didn' do any o these other cuts an bad bruises." She asked. NOW she's concerned? After she kicks in me skull?

Fuckin bitch. I hate her. And I love her. Just let me die so I don't have to see her damned smirk. Please Lord, just take me now. She was pulling me back. No! Let me go. Let me- Oh fuck yeah I hurt all over. Ouch! Ouch, ouch! Get your hands off me bitch and let me die. Oh fuck me I hurt so damned bad, I must have bad wounds. The touch of my women is helping immensely, as much as my evil ex wife's capable hands. I hated the fact that she was so capable, so expert at her lifesaving craft, the fucking bitch was so damned good.

"He fought my soon-to-be ex-husband, he is a giant of a man, and Walt beat him bloody, and knocked him out. He probably saved my life. I don't understand it. He barely knew me and he was willing to die for me. I saw my ex husband hit him so hard and so many times! Then Walt kicked his ass, and punched him harder than I thought possible. He out weighs Walt by a hundred pounds easy, and Walt knocked him out, fair and square." She was gently touching my wounds, which were many.

"He saved me from that monster. He has no fear at all. I can't explain it, but I ... I love him. I must have lost my mind. I can't believe it, but I ... I would die for him!" Jazz was weeping and praying. She had cuts and bruises all over the place. I hope she's ok. I'm praying for her. She is so kind. I did not plan to take her, but she and I fit in each other's heart and soul. It sounds like a bad tv movie. But I could not help it any more than she could. Damn it, I loved her. I was not trying to love her! I... could not help myself.

"I'll tend to your wounds in a minute child, I have to concentrate a wee bit here."

She examined my skull. I could feel a few cracks that should not be there. There was still a good chance that I could die. Except my bitch ex wife was going to fix it, fix the problem she had caused. Damn it, I hate her. Even worse, I love the evil bitch. I hate myself for loving her so much. She tears me heart apart.

My red haired woman, ex-wife, spoke aloud in the ancient Irish Gaelic. She was from Ireland, and I was from Scotland, and she never let me forget it! It sounded like a song from days on past, a lovely bit of muse. She sang clear and like an opera star. The women did not know of it's magic powers to the right tongue. The words are all power generators in the guise of a poem or song, they were like a program for the living. That was only a reflection of the power in her, but it helped her to concentrate on the broken skull and sooth the brain within. For my ex wife, it was child's play.

"Teacht ar ais ar an saol,

mo stór mo chuid fola!

Teacht ar ais chugam,

Teacht ar ais!"

("Come back to life,

My darling blood.

Come back to me,

Come back!")

She gently touched my head with both hands, and repeated the song for five minutes. Then she kissed me hard on the lips. She had done it again. My skull was ok, by morning I would be good as new. My ex had such a power to heal.

"Now stop being lazy Ian. Get up my husband, no layin' about. There's a dozen horned up women awaitin' your big damn pecker, so gey 'ure damned ass up offn' the dirty damn disgustin' flur. We dun' have all day! They all be worried sick, so git yor lazy, gud-fer- nuttn' ass up. They all need yer big meat post. And so do I." She spoke to me like we were still married. Fuckin' bitch! Doesn't say hi, just kicks me in the head. She just about killed me, and I still love her. I hate myself for that. How does that mean little bitch still manage to infuriate me, after all this damn time? I love her and I hate her too. Oh she's the divils spawn, that one, she is. And her hooks are in me very soul.

"We have only nine women here!" One of the girls noted. Who counts these things?

"Don' you worry, there are tree or four women at his beck and call besides us. Be tree nice lady cleaners want to fouck my big prick husband here for sure, and abbye. They're standin just outside the dur, and prayin' much as you are. I am so sorry... I lost me temper. There is no other man, nor beast that can incite me to murder like Ian here can. He put me on a ship to America, and he stayed behind in France... All for nuttin! He left me. He left me! I never saw him again until jus now today. And I still hate him...and I love him too. I hate meself for that, but I canna' help it. I shall probly be spankt fer an inch o' me life, but 'tell you girls a lil' secret!... I really enjoy his spankin' my ass till I'm red as a cherry. He ... I still think o' him when I, you kno, play the patty fingurs! Please don't tell Ian. His head ull be so big 'e won' be able to git true the damn durs." She smiled as I was sucked back into my body, and gasping for air. Guess I was going to live. Fuck me! I then suddenly coughed and cursed and sputtered blood out of my mouth. Where did that come from? I need a drink.

"Aileen O'Dochartaigh, you devil bitch! How arein youah. I see you are yet to be forgiv'n me o' savin' youre fuckin' worthless ass. I saw what you did for your damned boat passage. I saw with me own damn eyes. How could you take up with him? Don't worry about excuses, I have fergivn ya tha transgress."

I looked her in the eyes. I still feel the hurt from her infidelity.

"Perhaps ya might like to explain why you want to kill me. I'm just your old ex- husband. Bye the bye, I am going by Walter Price now, Ian it is no longer." I fell into the old speak with my ex wife. It kinda felt good. Except for the part about wanting to murder her of course. Aileen really pissed me off to no end.

"First of all, fouk yuah! Oh yer still a lying, cheating, schemin, durty, rotten, nasty, basterd, mean, foukn asshole. Look at all these adorable womenfolk waiting for you, ya cheatin' piece of shite-" I interrupted her rant.

"-I'm not mean! I canna 'elp I still luv ya, ya foukn' bitch! Tryin to ferget ya fer two hunder an fifty years!-" I said in a rush. "You fergot my name five minutes after ya met that bastard fuckin' sailor Frenchie of yers. That's how long my love lasted for yer lyin yap. Five minutes."

"-Quiet, ya big prick! Second, you placed my body upon the boat that I had little or no chance against twenty foukn men for the whole damn bloody Atlantic ocean, you stupid fuok. What were you doing? Tirdly, we are still married ya moron. I n'er did divorce' yur' dumb ass, and I doubt that you did eithr. I hate you! And unfertunately I...love you as well.. And what are you foukn doin?"

Aileen looked at my beautiful women. "Don' tell me that you air foukn ALL these beautiful woman folk? Have they bin to the moonlight yet? Why did you beat this poor woman here?" She pointed at the gorgeous black woman, Jazz. Jasmine was covered in bruises and welts. Her ex husband had done a number on the poor woman.

"I didn't. I can't believe you would think that I would be a party to something like that! Her husband did this and more, he needed a bad beatin', so he an I... I danced with him a bit." I smirked meself.

"You danced on his face. And he's NOT my husband. I want you to be my man." Jasmine touched my face, gently, tears in her eyes. Jazz was going to set off a riot. There was a bunch of angry screaming. All the women folk sayin' 'bout the same ting. Pretty much "get your hands off him!" Or something like that.

"Oh shut it womenfolk! He canna marry any of you'n seein as he's still my foukn' bastard prick husband." She looked at me "Till death do us part. Remember? You dumb ass fouker you." She smiled at me. She knew. She knew! She was well aware of her power over me. I hate the bitch.

"Yer full o' shite woman! You bin gone fer ore' two hundr' nay fifty years! Ya canna' waltz in here, an kick in me skull, and say 'thanks for watchin' him girls. He's mine!' It donn'a work like that!" I looked her in the eye. I knew and she knew that I knew. She was fearful for just a second.

"Where were you when I was on that ship to America damn it!?" She asked.

"I was saving your damned life!" I said. What a stupid bitch. All the pain I had gone through for that evil bitch.

"How?" She asked with a jaundiced eye. She believed me not a whit.

"Well, I destroyed the damn guillotine, and killed 'bout two hundert' of the bastards that were afin' YOU. As long as I was in their eyes, they were chasin' me, and YOU could slip away, and I was going to follow you. They wanted to kill you so bad, remember? You told them all off and called them lawless savage pricks. You remember the plan? You got to the port of Philadelphia, and you just plain vanished. I heard you had killed all but three of the sailors that had annoyed you. But you were still with child, and not mine either, you cheatin bitch!" She looked at me with defiance.

"When you left the Philly dock for who knows where, I looked for you for damn near fifty years. I used all the spirits and the living men to find you, and I came up short. I spent all those years trying to find you, whilst you were running away from me! I caught up to you in the city of Chicago, in nineteen and thirty-three, more than a hundred years later. You were married to a mobster. Where was the Frenchman then? I couldn't look at you and him- it broke my heart and so I moved to China for a long time, until the war, then I enlisted again, this time as an American, and hoping to be killed facing the damned Germans. I was just so unfortunate enough to survive, and I moved to Texas, and I made a whole lot of money. I started quite a few plastics, and engineering, and chemical companies. I am very, very wealthy now. I own more than a hundred corporations. But I gotta work everyday, so I love to cut headstones for the dearly departed. I help folks grieve a bit, and show some respect for the dead. We still chat, now an' agin. Most of the dead just want to rest and not talk. Some move on to the next... Some of the folks, well they go to the other place. No free will for that. Who knows? I may be scheduled for the flames meself."

"Do you still carry on, um... speakin to the damn foukin ghosts? Those ghosts used to take great pride in jus scaring me to half to death, and for what? Sport!" anger framed her words as she almost spat. Aileen hates ghosts, PERIOD. Any way, shape or form. They scare her.

She was pissed at me all over again! The ghosts did love to scare her, 'tis true. They laughed like crazy when she screamed and peed herself. I told her how to stop it. The ghosts loved to scare her. It made their day. I have never heard poltergeists laugh louder than my ex wife's antics.

"They loved to frighten you now and then, because you jumped ten feet in the air! I kept telling you to just forget about them, ignore them, and they would have treated you better. You never listened to me!" I said. I shut up. Wasted breath on my part.

"Why did you not listen to me about France? We could have been together this whole time. Or we could have faced the guillotine together! By the bye, just how many of those French cretins did you help into the next world? Twenty? Fifty?" She asked me. Bad question to ask me. I hated killing, even with my red divil persona doing the killing.

"I'm not sure. They had me in heavy chains, ready to separate me skull from me neck. I begged them not to kill me at night because I was afraid of the moonlight. I asked for a morning execution. I told them I would wet my pants if I was forced into the moonlight. They laughed at me fright, and set up my execution for midnight at full moon. Course you know what happens to me in the moonlight. I showed them that I didn't need a damn guillotine to remove their very annoying heads. I dismantled that big damn guillotine with me bare hands, and used that huge heavy blade on them. I'm not sure how many, well, because you know I lose my mind in the change, but I guess about two hundred of the worst kind, they all needed killn, them... I let my temper go, and you do know what happens then! I am still ashamed, but I think they had killed thousands, chopping heads off left and right, and I only have guilt for about about maybe two hundred of those murderers souls. If any left me alone, then I did the same. I heard they said that it was a huge peasant uprising. I didn't know I was a peasant! I had to cross the Atlantic by myself in a very small boat. I was chasing you! I was going to die when a Spanish fisherman found me. I wound up in New Orleans, and had to make my way back to the port of Philadelphia. It took me many months. I had lost you. I kept looking for fifty years." I knew that she was running away from me.

I was in tears. "She had killed me back then. I knew what she was doing from the ghosts. They told me everything." She was crying too. Was it from guilt or innocence, or love? I dunna know fer sure, she can still lie to me face, an I bein the dumb assed cuckold, I still believed her. But I somehow knew that she was cheating and lying.

She gave me a whopper lie then, but I knew that it was a lie from the git go. I knew that she was with him in the moonlight, cause I felt it every single time she cheated in the change. Every single time! It was like a knife in my chest. I knew it, and she did too. How could she? And a new baby born of the evil tryst. Fifteen children born out of wedlock with her and the Frenchman. She had cheated on me so many times.

She hit me with another huge lie, but I knew it was coming. "I never stopped looking for you. Some smart guys came out with facial recognition software and it was three years... more looking at wrong faces... until I found you. It's the change this year isn't it? What are you going to do about these lovely lassies?" She looked at all the women who loved me... I could start another fight, but I really did need her help.

"I'm going to tell them the truth. One of them has stage four cancer. You think you could help her? I know yer hands can only do so much, but the poor woman needs help. Keep her ok 'till the blue light makes me skin turn bloody, and me seed turn red wit me own blood. If I can take her in the change, an take her hard, she has a good sportin' chance at some good and decent life. We can kill the cancer. I ... think... No, I am sure it can be done. She will probably be preggers fer sure. But I haint had a child fer goin on twenty-four years. Same as your daughter with HIM." I gave her the look reserved for the cheatn bitch she really is. "I canna think o any othr way to stop her cancer... None exist." I said simply.

"What kind?" She asked me. She was asking me about the cancer.

I knew she felt it already, do I look stupid? She knew. She could feel her pain from across the street. But I guess she wanted confirmation.

"Pancreatic. You knew all that from the touch. It's ALREADY metastasized. I may be her only option. But I don't know how to tell her and them. About the change. And the agony."