The Genre Shifting Nonsense Novel
an excerpt

She smiled. The knife fell with a dull thud onto the dusty floor. She leaned over him, her silver hair falling on his face. She looked deep into the boy's innocent frightened eyes, his lip trembled. The fallen knife caught a single ray of the dying sun and threw a stark red shade on her face. Her teeth gleamed. She put one hand beneath his head and brought his ear to level with her mouth "little boys should not play with fire" she whispered.

His eyes roamed over her face, but he did not see it. He was looking for something, something else. A distant bell started to toll. Her breadth stopped in her throat, they were frozen, like a photograph, for eternity. A voice in a hidden part of her head counted the strokes. Twelve. He started laughing macabrely. It was a howling maniacal cackle, drawn from the depths of hell itself. It echoed through the small warehouse, bounding off its walls, spiralling into the heavens. A swift wind caught it, carrying its horryfic anthem down the valley. He was dead by the time the echos had stopped. His lips were twisted into an inhuman laugh, his empty eyes glared accusingly at her through the monstrous face.

"No" she breathed. "Not now, no no no..."

A distant bell started to toll.

***********************************

"Tara...?"

Her head jerked up at the sound of her name.

"Yeah?"

"Welcome back darling"

Tara looked up into the cocky grin of Bub. He had been the bartender at The Cafe for as long as any one could remember. His ear studs glinted in the flickering light, as he slid a shot glass onto the bar top.

"The usual?" he asked.

Tara nodded mutely, the last fragments of her memory fading from her mind. She resisted the instinct to hang on to what was left, letting it all roll away like a misty cloud. She realised with a shudder that the leather boots were killing her feet, and that she felt incredibly tiered... and old.

"Any one else in?" she asked fingering the glass which Bub had filled to the rim with a dark liquid. It was the only item that was served at the bar except for chocolate ice cream. No one knew what it was, but thought better of asking Bub about it.

"Tonight it's just you." said the bartender settling to his old perch behind the bar.

A black cat crept out from inside the shadows and strolled down the bar top, making a deep purring noise at the back of its throat. Its eyes shone like jewels in the dim light, an emerald and a saphire. Bub acknowledged it with a nod of respect, reached under the counter to produce a small packet.

"Sameer" Tara said softly. The cat threw her a look of disdain as it crossed through the open doorway.

The doorway. It appeared and dissappeared at will, but always had a curtain of pure white light blocking the entrance that no one can see beyond. No one who had gone out that way and returned to speak of it. And many, many had tried. You just got to ask Bub and he would reel out story after story, of people who had tried and failed, or had just dissappeared. Except Sameer. Sameer had appeared one day out of the doorway - the first living thing to do so. Bub always refused to talk of that first meeting, and no one in remembered it, not in living memory, but it was understood that it was at that time Bub's respect for the dark cat had been forged. There were many rumours about it, that Sameer had sold his soul and human form to win that right, but Tara did not buy any of it. But she had always wanted to go through that doorway. See what hidden things lie ahead, the world beyond. So said everyone else as well, but no one did. No one in living memory. But time always worked differently in The Cafe. There WAS no time, or space, or the laws of physics. But everyone liked to pretend that they existed for convienience sake. Everyone. Tara snorted in disgust. She could count 'everyone' using her fingers on her two hands and toes on one foot.

She drained the drink in one gulp and dropped the glass on the table with a slightly unsteady hand. She once her again blocked her mind from thinking what unorthodox ingredients went into that drink. "Bub, can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah?" he said looking up from the single glass he was polishing. It was a well known fact in The Cafe that there were only two glasses. You just had to wait till the other person finishes thier drink.

"What lies beyond that doorway?"

Bub did not answer. He went back to polishing the glass. Every singe regular at the bar had asked him that question over a million times, he no longer bothered to asnwer.

Tara sighed and leaned over to take off her boots.

An extremely cheery voice behind her called out "Hullo Bub!" Tara groaned inwardly.

"Hello Tara!" the voice called out, a humungous hand smacked her on the back, temporarily upseting her sense of balance.

"Hey Tony" she gasped, fighting to get her breath back. She should have been used to this by now, but the impact always seemed to catch her surprise.

The huge form steered itself into one of the bar stools. Bub discretely handed him the bottle of the dark liquid, not bothering with glasses.

"So how you doin' Tara?" the genial voice called out again.

"So far so good" Tara said raising the empty glass in a silent toast. She was almost praying that the bell would toll again. Bell...? What bell...? She shook her head as though that would clear away the remanant memories, clinging to the dark recesses of her mind. She frowned to herself, they should not have lasted so long... Bub filled it up her glass again, with a bluish looking liquid this time. She peered down into a midnight blue viscous mixture, and drew back, startled. She was almost sure that it winked at her. She looked up at Bub in surprise.

"A new creation" he said proudly.

"Ah." She said, emptying the glass courageously. It resisted going down her throat, scrabbling in the opposite direction, but when it did a curious sensation spread over her. It reminded her of... home...? A suddenly vivid image of a green hillock and an old church tower flashed in front of her eyes. She tried to focus on it, but it dissappeared too quickly.

"It has quite a kick doesn't it?" Bub asked leaning conspiratorly over the bartop. Tara instinctively nodded and smile.

Tony took a swig from a bottle, looked at Tara and smiled. It was a smile that made known general good feeling and good will. Why he would want to smile that to her of all people, who had such a vibrant history with him she had no idea. Seeing all those eighteen yellowing teeth, emerge out of the foot long beard Tara wanted to kill herself. She welcomed a refill of Bub's new creation.

"Can... can I... can I have a drink?"

Tara's head whipped around hearing the new voice. The concept of 'new' takes on a whole different meaning in The Cafe. There had been no newbie at The Cafe for... living memory You either were a regular, or never came at all. There was quite literally, no way in or out of The Cafe, except for The Door, you just came. Tara surveyed the new guy, taking her own time, looking him up and down. She took in the sweater, the well ironed jeans, the white sneakers, the contact lens, and the disaster which was supposed to be spiked hair. She also noticed the diffident look he threw her, the way he kept shifting from foot to foot, and how his right hand involuntarily kept darting in and out of his jeans pocket. As her eyes moved slowly over his person, silently evaluating, Tara was amused to watch his face steadily progress from a tender pink to a deep crimson. But she kept her merriment to herself, here was some entertainment at last!

"Hullo there son!" Tony called out, kindly. Only that unless you know Tony, the effect can be quite the opposite. The boy looked that he was quite literally shaking in his shoes.

Tara decided to let him stew for a while before deciding to do anything about it. Bub placed a bowl ladened with dark chocolate ice cream on the table, waved the boy to one of the stools, and threw Tara an admonishing look. The boy looked questioningly at the ice cream and at Bub, and decided not to ask any questions. Tara pretended not to notice, and started to retie her waist length, thick silver hair. It was a long night ahead, and she was determined to have as much fun as she could, lame though it may seem. Among other things, entertainment also took a whole different meaning in The Cafe. She wondered whether she should draw Tony into some kind of conversation... A wave of heavy metal music hit Tara squarely between the eyes. She looked around surprised, once again during the evening. A brand new juke box stood conspicously in a dusty corner, all lights blazing, and colours bright enough to dazzle anyone's eyes.

"Where did that come from?" Tara yelled above the noise directing raised eye brows to Bub. He shrugged ambiguosly in answer.

"I...I... just thought that.. that... some music... will be.. be.. nice" the boy stammered, at the top of his voice.

Tara looked at him with a tilt in her head, waiting for him to continue.

"I.. wanted... wanted the music.. so thought.. thought the.. the juke box" he said, with an expression that was much alike a deer caught in headlights.

Tara met Bub's eyes over the kid's head, and she could see that he was obviously impressed. Not many had mastered the skill of realising that inside The Cafe, quite literally no rules applied.

"So... where ya from?" Tony asked encourangingly to the boy who was staring disdainfully at his ice cream.

"From your imagination" said a silky voice, extremely close to Tara's ear. She didn't bother turning around, knowing who it will be.

"You said the bar will be empty tonight" Tara said pointedly to Bub, forcing herself to not turn and look at the person standing behind her.

"I love you too sweetheart" said the snake-ish voice. He was close enough for her to feel his breath on his throat.

Tara shut her eyes for an instant, trying to master the instant sense of revulsion that rose to her throat. Something wet brushed against her cheek, and the the barricades she had put up in her mind, snapped. Instant anger rose to her head, which was immediately replaced by an icy rage tht had been conditioned by several years worth of disgust. Besides, it felt like a long night ahead.

She found a colt revolver in her hand, and a dangerous glint in her eye. Before she could turn and level it, she felt cold metal against her throat. The music stopped abruptly. The voice grated in her ear,

"Don't move."

Tara simulatneously heard a dry chuckle that sounded like dry leaves upset by the cold north wind and a bar stool toppling over. From the corner of her eye, she could see Tony rise to his feet. For a person who was more that seven feet in height, he was remarkably fast on his feet when he wanted to be. Bub was outside her immeadiate field of vision, but she knew that any reaction of his would be instantaneous. He was watching the situation to see which way it would go, so typical of Bub. There was just something that did not make sense, but she could not lay her finger on.

A cold hand crept under Tara's chin, turning her head and tilting it up. She smiled, he always had to be the perfect villain, the kind of villain that always gloats. In that moment's distraction she wrenched herself away from the hand and -

A distant bell began to toll.

Tara felt her breadth stop in her throat, they were frozen, like a photograph, for eternity. A voice at a hidden part of her head counted the strokes. Eleven. Another voice observed that, that was what was wrong with the situation. There was a story, unraveling. And stories do not happen in The Cafe.