Horror Writing Thread

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

I've always thought that a Horror Writing Thread would be necessary on these Boards for authors/aspiring authors like myself to Post exerpts, chapters, characters, plot outlines, etc. here for other Schmoes to critique and improve on. As of right now, I've been having sort of an odd time as far as writing goes in which I can't seem to finish anything that I start, and I've decided to just scrap everything that isn't worth keeping and to start afresh. So I haven't got much on my hands right now, but I'm starting a story pretty soon revolving around a psychic and a haunted house. I wrote the first line today: The girl with the bruised eye got on the city bus. Nothing much, but it's a start, The Dark Tower series began with only one sentence.

So feel free to Post your writings, drafts, chapters, stories, excerpts, character/story outlines, etc!

[deadeye]

Best wishes to you on starting writing again. I'm in the same boat. Right now I'm working on a second novel (first wasn't published, but got good encouragement), and my research is killing me. Writing is hard work, but rewarding if it is your calling, so keep at it.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Thanks for the kind words and best of wishes to you as well. Feel free to Post about it over here, I'd love to be of assistance. I just finished my second unpublished, and I'm still on the task of getting over the characters.They really feel real to me, I guess that's a job well done coming from myself. :p

[spacemonkey]

As it turns out, we got a couple of horror writers on these boards! HOrror writers unite! Count me in on this group...by the way, the new story thread will be starting soon...be on the look out so you can participate again Ginge!

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Awesome. Can't wait to see what this one's about! :)

[Wolfe4086]

I am not really sure about some of my material if it falls under Horror or not. I know Surivival Instinct and War Diary do but not sure on Fallen Angel.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Yea, I think that there is definitelly a fine line between Horror Fiction and Dark Fiction. Most of my latest fall under the latter category.

[Wolfe4086]

Yea, I think that there is definitelly a fine line between Horror Fiction and Dark Fiction. Most of my latest fall under the latter category.

Well Fallen Angel follows a member of the Neo Genesis program that has escaped her handlers. Part of her genetic and her behavorial modifcation causes her to crave human blood. So it has horror aspects to it where as "Watcher in the Window" is strickly Cyberpunk.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Hmm...as the Germans say:Interessen.

[MisterTwister]

Here's something I wrote awhile back. Not very good but here it is anyways.

Tomorrow's another day

by Jonathon Knight

I am a monster. What I've been doing for the past 3 weeks is the stuff nightmares are made of.

The blade that lies in my hand is rusty and covered in blood. Whose blood is it? Fuck if I know. I've killed so many people that this blood could be numerous helpless victims.

My stomach is growling. I have a hunger for some fried chicken so I get up from my mess of a bed and grab my wallet. I place the blade in my back pocket and head out.

I walk out of Captain Seymour's Chicken Shack with a bag full of greasy goodness. I can't wait to get home and devour them like a lion on a zebra. But then I see something. An overweight man with greasy hair and T-shirt walking out of the shack. I fucking hate fat people.

The Man begins to walks down the street, near an alley. The Perfect area. With no one looking I run up behind the man. I grab him quickly and throw his lard ass in the alley.

He yells at me, calling me a "Dumbshit" I take out my blade and slash it across his face. He yells at me again, the same word, over and over again. I pick him up and slam him against the wall. I jam my blade into his stomach, turning it oh so slowly so he can feel it inside him.

I put my hand over his mouth to stop the screams. I pull the knife out. I see a rock on the ground and begin to bash his face in, over and over again. His teeth begin to fall out of his mouth and his face begins to look far from human.

I stop bashing his face in, realizing he is dead. I put the blade back in my pocket and leave the alley. I'm surprised no one heard what I was doing. I'm becoming too careless. Maybe I want to be caught? Maybe I want them to find all those bodies are buried throughout the city and find out a monster is living among them. A monster who would take a life away just so he can have the thrill of watching a human being expire from this planet.

I walk into my apartment and set the bucket of chicken on the table. I grab a wing out and jam it into my pie hole and begin to munch on it like an angry mouse. I then see the lady across the street from me coming home from a late night of work.

I watch the lady across the street from my window.

She begins to undress with no knowledge of the eyes across the street staring her down.

I unzip my pants and release my love stick upon my hand. I begin to stroke it up and down, keeping my eyes on the naked piece of flesh across the street. The More I do it, the better I feel.

My eyes begin to twitch at a rapid pace. The feeling of launching off finally comes to be as my knuckles are covered with a sticky substance.

I open my eyes and see the lady staring at me with a shocked look on her face. She walks away and I put my love stick back in my pants. I walk over to my desk and open the drawer, pulling out a hammer.

The pleasure is done, now the pain must begin.

I walk across the street and head up the stairs to her apartment. I calmly knock on her door. Since she'll know that I was the one pleasuring himself to her body, I'll get this over quickly.

She opens the door and without a thought I bash the hammer into her forehead, sending her to the ground. I grab her body and drag it into the apartment and shut the door.

She seems passed out from the blow to the head. The voices in my head are screaming to rape her and I know better to listen to them, they're always right. I take out the blade out of my pocket and slowly put it between her legs and begin to what I call "Knife rape" her.

I can tell she's feeling it and the pain I am causing her is beyond horrible. I am a fucking monster. Scum on this planet. But I can't help not doing it; I feel a sense of fun. I take the blade out between her legs. I can't let this poor creature feel anymore pain. I take the blade and slice open her throat. The blood from her throat spurts out and into my face. She is beginning to expire and leave this hellhole known as earth. I go up to her kitchen sink and clean off the blade. I feel tired and want to rest. Today has been a bummer but you know what?

Tomorrow's another day.

[MisterTwister]

Another old, crappy one. This is more in the style of Tales from the Crypt.

Halloween Night

by Jonathon Knight

Billy and Greg love Halloween, It’s their favorite holiday. But something has ruined their Halloween this year and that’s “The Trick or Treat Killer” A serial killer who caused a massacre last Halloween with 6 dead bodies. The Police never caught him and they are keeping an eye out this year. The town decided not to ban Halloween for some strange reason, but a lot of parents have decided not to allow their kids to go out for Halloween. including Billy and Greg’s.

“This is bullshit, I want some candy!” Billy says. “Don’t worry Bud, I have a plan” Greg says. “What is it?” Billy Asks. “We’re going to sneak out” Greg says. “That’s it, that’s your stupid plan!” Billy yells. “Hey don’t yell at me, it’s the best I can come up with at the time” Greg says. “My dog could have come up with something better then that” Billy says. “We’ll ask him then, asshole” Greg says. “Let’s just tell our parents were going over to Roger Foster’s house” Billy says. “I don’t think that will work” Greg says. “Let’s try it at least” Billy says.

5 MINUTES LATER.

Billy and Greg step outside. “I cannot believe it worked” Greg says. “Believe it fool, I’m the master of lying to my parents” Billy says. “I’m surprised they never saw the Robert Foster is a tool slogan written across your book bag” Greg says. “It proves they pay attention as much as I do” Billy says. Billy reaches into a bag at his side and pulls out two masks, one is a Skull and one is an evil clown. “You can be the killer clown, I’ll be the skull” Billy says. “More like the Numb Skull” Greg laughs. Billy slaps Greg upside his head. “Shut up” Billy says. Billy hands him the mask. “Let’s go get us some candy” Billy says. Billy and Greg travel to several houses, getting various types of candy, from Snickers to Skittles, the boys are getting loaded up with lots of sugary treats.

They stop by a house with the lights on, but the door is opened a little. “Isn’t that Roger’s House?” Greg asks. “Yeah it is, let’s get some candy from that tool” Billy says. Billy and Greg walk up to the door and begin to creep in. “Mrs. Foster, you there?” Greg asks. Billy and Greg fully walk into the house and shut the door behind them. The lights are on, but there’s no one in sight. “What’s going on?” Billy asks. Greg looks around and sees something lying on the floor in the kitchen. “Over there Billy” Greg says. Billy and Greg walk into the kitchen. Their jaws suddenly drop. There on the kitchen floor is Mrs. Foster, with her throat cut open. “Oh my god” Greg says. “What is going on?” Billy asks. “It’s the trick or treat killer, it has to be” Greg says. “Where are Roger and his Dad?” Billy asks. “Let’s check Roger’s room” Greg says.

Billy and Greg go up to Roger’s room and open the door. Roger is lying on his bed with a knife stabbed into the back of his head. “We have to get out of here, Right now!” Billy yells. Billy and Greg run into the living room and standing there is the Trick or Treat Killer, holding a knife in one hand and Roger’s Dad’s head in the other. The killer is wearing a monster mask and begins to approach the boys. Billy and Greg turn around and run out the back door. “Let’s go to the old Tapley house, he won’t be able to hear us in there” Greg says.

Billy and Greg run over to the old Tapley house and crawl through the window. Billy and Greg sit down on the ground. “I can’t believe we were actually face to face with the Trick or Treat killer” Billy says. “Me either” Greg says. “I can’t believe he actually killed Roger and his parents, I may have hated him, but still he didn’t deserve to die “Billy says. “Are you having a good Halloween, Billy?” Greg asks. Billy looks at Greg strange. “What the hell do you think!?” Billy yells. “Too Bad” Greg says.

The door to the Tapley house bursts open and there stands the Trick or Treat Killer with knife in hand. Greg stands up and grabs Billy. “What are you doing, let me the fuck go!” Billy yells. “I have him where you wanted him, Dad” Greg says. “Dad!? Your dad is the trick or treat killer!?” Billy says. “Sure is, and we were going to off you last year, but decided to let you have a year to rest” Greg says. “This is sick, you both are sick” Billy says. “Oh come on, this is me and Dad’s Hobby” Greg says. “But we’re friends!” Billy says. “We all have to make sacrifice’s Billy” Greg says. “Come on Greg, stop playing around” Billy says. “Sorry playtime is over” Greg says. The Trick or Treat Killer lifts up his knife. Billy’s eyes go wide.

The knife strikes down and from the outside you can just about hear a faint scream before Billy dies. This is a Halloween Night he’ll never forget…

The End

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

They weren't too bad. Short-heck yea! Entertaining nonetheless? Yup-yup! I prefer Halloween Night over Tomorrow's Another Day though, but that's just me being my Samhain-loving self. (I actually thought that Greg himself was going to be the Trick or Treat Killer, imo that would be a pretty wicked Crypt-esque twist. Your ending was pretty kewl too, didn't see that coming actually.)

You should most-def participate in Space Monkey's next Horror Writing Thread if you can.

[MisterTwister]

They weren't too bad. Short-heck yea! Entertaining nonetheless? Yup-yup! I prefer Halloween Night over Tomorrow's Another Day though, but that's just me being my Samhain-loving self. (I actually thought that Greg himself was going to be the Trick or Treat Killer, imo that would be a pretty wicked Crypt-esque twist. Your ending was pretty kewl too, didn't see that coming actually.)

You should most-def participate in Space Monkey's next Horror Writing Thread if you can.

Thanks for the kind comments G. I take the term Short story quite literally. I make them as short (and painless) as possible.

I originally thought of that as an ending but wanted to give it an extra beat or two.

I will participate in Space Monkey's next writing thread but I can't promise anything solid.:o

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Originally Posted by MisterTwister:
Thanks for the kind comments G. I take the term Short story quite literally. I make them as short (and painless) as possible.

I originally thought of that as an ending but wanted to give it an extra beat or two.

I will participate in Space Monkey's next writing thread but I can't promise anything solid.

Hey, a short and sweet short story is better than a long and boring "short" story. :) I actually prefer to get the reader to know the characters and what-not before I get to the knitty-gritty. I think of it like this:I'm decorating a nice room; putting a nice, green carpet in, hanging new curtains. Then just once the reader gets nice and cozy I tear the curtains down, crap on the carpet, and just completely ruin everything that the story begins with. :D

I did like that, caught me off guard. But what can I say, I'm a idiot! :D

I'm sure that you'll do just fine. *Puts a comforting hand on MisterTwister's shoulder.*

[MisterTwister]

Hey, a short and sweet short story is better than a long and boring "short" story. :) I actually prefer to get the reader to know the characters and what-not before I get to the knitty-gritty. I think of it like this:I'm decorating a nice room; putting a nice, green carpet in, hanging new curtains. Then just once the reader gets nice and cozy I tear the curtains down, crap on the carpet, and just completely ruin everything that the story begins with. :D

I did like that, caught me off guard. But what can I say, I'm a idiot! :D

I'm sure that you'll do just fine. *Puts a comforting hand on MisterTwister's shoulder.*

On alot of my unfinished screenplays I went overboard with the character development so I tend to throw that out the window with my short stories. Thanks for suggestions though. I'll try to sprinkle some CD in my next short story.

I like how you put it though about short stories. Hilarious but true:D

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Hey dude, just do your thang! :D

Thanks. The metaphor is more for novels than short-stories for me, but in my fiction I do find it very true. :D

[hrdude]

I'm cool to this thread..MT nice short story, even Stephen King reverts to them because they're sharp and punchy. Ging, great idea....I have so many ideas running through my brain this is a greta forum to express them.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Thanks. I've had this idea since I first joined Jo-Blo, but have just now gotten around to putting it to action. I currently don't have much going as far as Horror, I've had my hands full with my fantasy that I was talking about in the Screenwriting Forums.

EDIT:Feel free to Post any ideas, characters, lines of dialogue, excerpts, or even full stories in this Thread, hrdude! I would love to read them fo sho!

[countchocula]

I have an idea for a short story (shorter than Catheter). I don't know when the hell I would write it, though. The plot involves skullfucking, pistol sodomy, and bees.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Oh my. :eek:

I would love to read that. Now that I'm writing "Professionally" (As in:Writing with the intention of getting my current works someday published. Which really isn't all that much different than before, but it sounds nice,) it's really hard to get some serious writing down. I think that I may start waking up an hour early before school to fit some more writing in. That would definitely help.

So, pistol sodomy and bees, 'eh? :D

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

This is an excerpt from the second draft of my fantasy. Far from Horror, but I'm still very proud of the story and I'm glad to be writing it with the prose that it deserves. Compared to the original opening this is quite fantastic for me. There really isn't any plot progressions except for the meteor, which is the event that sets the plot into motion. Mostly just setting the tone of the story and introducing the town in which it takes place in.

A Clockwork in the Stars

Pox was a small town off the main highway where the population was meager and the crime-rate was lower. It was a town where shopkeeps could leave their businesses open with customers to sweep the sidewalk without the fear of thievery. Saturdays were for baseball games and Sundays for church. Everybody knew eachother without caring to get to know one another. There was no movie-theater nor roller-rink and recreation was what the citizens would call an evening with the family. Pox had not been known for its admirable football team because there was no football team. However, there was a bowling alley where both male and female teams competed. Pox was your typical small town with no plan for expansion.

It was the date of Februrary 16, 2008 that the meteor landed in Pox. The meteor was both unpredicted and unseen by many, although one fortunate photographer did snag themself a snapshot of it descending from the cloudless skies to the far side of town. In the picture the meteor looks the size of a gumball, with a tail of fire. This photograph was turned in to the Pox Herald with a brief description and was featured in a page 2 article the next week.

The skies were a nova blue that night. The full moon contemplated the world beneath its suspension like a watchful god. Stars lit the otherwise empty space above earth like a million night-lights. If the moon were a god, they would be its disciples. From the photographer's view on the plains outside of town, the meteor was cutting across the moon at that immortalized moment that the picture was taken.

In the town below, it was roughly eight on a Friday night. The mall would soon be closing up and the restaraunts as well. School was out for the weekend and the restless children were at home playing video-games or watching television. Some adults would be lying down before long, others sitting down at the computer in pursuit of pornography. The streets were mostly empty of traffic and their sidewalks were clear of chalking or jump-roping children. (Pretty much the same statement I used to describe the streets in Nightmare9, I know.)

Only one teenage girl saw the meteor that night as she was leaving her home. By this point in time the meteor was nearing its earthly destination. It was at about the height of the treetops and headed in the direction of the St. Judas Park across the street, which was owned by the same family that the church of the same name belonged to. Both curious and adventurous, the girl decided to follow where she believed to have seen the meteor fall.

And so the tale begins.

Feedback would be mucho appreciated, please and thank 'ya!

[MisterTwister]

What an interesting set-up Ging. You have me intrigued to read more. Good job my friend.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Thanks a ton! :)

I'm trying to make this one publishable and the 1st Draft was 210 pages long, so I definitelly cannot Post the entire story. I'm thinking that if all goes great as possible (Like the 1st Draft did), then I could write this Draft. Then when I'm about 16 I can write a third Draft, gloss over that with one, Final Draft, and hopefully put it out for the market. That's still about a year away, but imo if I write this good enough and send it out to enough Publishing Houses I may be able to get it bought during my Senior Year. That's just me and my crazy dreaming though. :rolleyes:

But yeah, pretty much its my metaphysical fantasy romance story. Or even like if I wrote my own retelling of the bible where (rather than being perfect) the Christ-figure made mistakes of their own and contributed just as much towards the bad as the good.

Okay, I'd better shut myself up before I go into total self-infatuation overdrive. :p

[MistAh BlistAh]

Really like what I've seen in this thread so far, nicely done! :)

As for my writing, I've got 2 scripts in their early stages, both original storys. Both Horror.

But lately I've been working on a Halloween Fan Sequel. The timeline is kind of messed up but I'll try to explain it. It follows parts I-II-H20-And Laurie's death in Resurrection, but ignores the rest of Resurrection.

The story follows John Tate searching for Michael, hunting for him sort of like Mike/Reggie in Phantasm II or The Winchesters in Supernatural :cool: Finally 31 Years after Michael's first attack on Laurie he returns to Haddonfield, where John must confront him.

'Halloween: The Search for Michael Myers'
Here's a lil' peek from it:

Chapter One: Broken Silence

Halloween...

John drove all night, seeing him everywhere. However unsure whenever it was the alcohol or the real deal. His head hasn't been in the right place as of late. Sunrise. Thirty-One years to the day, when his mother had her first encounter with him. Could he return once again, to the place he once called home. That’s why John has come back to Haddonfield. He’s been looking for him for a long time now. Every since he killed John’s mother, John’s been searching. Seeking revenge, searching for Michael.

First things first, coffee, I need coffee, John whispers to himself. Just as he pulls in to the local diner parking lot, sirens ring out, and a police cruiser follows.

John waits as the officer gets out of his car and walks over.

“Sheriff Doyle, I told you I’d be here first thing in the morning.”

John gets out of his car to greet him. Quickly smiles are erased, as both men know what they’re here for. Something both men have experienced before. Something both men never want to experience again.

[countchocula]

Thanks a ton! :)

I'm trying to make this one publishable and the 1st Draft was 210 pages long, so I definitelly cannot Post the entire story. I'm thinking that if all goes great as possible (Like the 1st Draft did), then I could write this Draft. Then when I'm about 16 I can write a third Draft, gloss over that with one, Final Draft, and hopefully put it out for the market. That's still about a year away, but imo if I write this good enough and send it out to enough Publishing Houses I may be able to get it bought during my Senior Year. That's just me and my crazy dreaming though. :rolleyes:

But yeah, pretty much its my metaphysical fantasy romance story. Or even like if I wrote my own retelling of the bible where (rather than being perfect) the Christ-figure made mistakes of their own and contributed just as much towards the bad as the good.

Okay, I'd better shut myself up before I go into total self-infatuation overdrive. :p

I've got to hand it to you. You've got a sensible goal and loads of talent. You're wise beyond your years, G1ng.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Wow, coming from you Count that means a great deal to me. *Gleaming nerdily.* :D

Going down the fan-fiction route I see, MisterBlister? I started out with ANOES "sequel" fan-fictions that were pretty much ultra-gory and that's about it. I never included any of the past plot-lines because I was terrified that I couldn't do them justice. :D (Even in 6th Grade I was an obsessive ANOES fan, more so than now even! I swear to God that I watched one film in the Series at the very least twice a week.) I'm glad that you're giving it a go. If taken seriously, fanfic's can be pretty great. imo they're always interesting though to see how the Series would continue had it been up to the fans. Best of luck my man! :)

[deadeye]

Good job Ging, I grew up in a little town that is a lot how you describe yours.

Question, Help Alert, for me. I'm at a place in my book where I want to use psychic smells as an alert that something bad is about to happen. It was used successfully with the cook in King's The Shining, and I want to put it in my book for one of characters who is a psychic. I've tried to find info on line, but I'm either not looking in the right place, or maybe it is one of King's fictions where he made all up and there's no such thing as psychic odors.

The set up for my character is this: while researching an old manor in London to determine if it is haunted, possessed, or a hoax, he gets stuck in the cellar/basement. While down there, he is bothered by a strong stink he first attributes to it just being old, musty, possibly a root/fruit cellar at one time. Then he realizes as he is trapped down there that the smell is getting worse and "follows" him around as he is trying to get out of the maze of rooms.

What I want to know, 1. is this plausible in terms of paranormally happening before, and 2. are there particular smells that are documented as being "harbingers of doom". I'm trying hard with this book to not totally make stuff up, but have some resource material behind the paranormal/occult happenings. So far I've got more info than I'll probably ever use except for this little bit here, and it's driving me nuts trying to make it work into the story! Thanks y'all for the help if you can give it.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

I actually used to live in a town not so far from my fictional Pox as well, I still go to the school there.

idk man. I think coming up with your own twist on the psychic mythos would be the best thing to do. If you want the strong odours to come in for it, then add it in whether it exists or not. I'm kinda busy as of right now, but I may look it up for ya later!

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Okay, I'm looking it up right now. I haven't found anything just yet, but I did come up with an idea.

What if the psychic character can smell the perfumes of the souls and each individual spirit has its own scent? idk if that was what you had in mind or not, but I thought that it was an interesting concept.

Here's one Link that I found. I didn't read the whole way through, but its supposedly a "true" experience along the lines of what you may be looking for.

http://www.psychic-experiences.com/real-psychic-story.php?story=1361

This doesn't quite have to do with psychic smells/aromas/odours, but it does provide some information on psychic abilities (which is referred to in this Link as Clairsentience).

http://home.xtra.co.nz/hosts/Wingmakers/Clairsentience.html

Another Link, this one is specifically on the subject of psychic smells. (But not smelly psychics. :p)

http://www.dajuana.com/psychic-readings/sharing-thoughts/smells-are-some-of-the-most-potent-parts-of-psychic-ability-762/

One more, this time from Yahoo Answers. It seems like in this one that people are open to the sort of thing.

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20070619154017AAf8zzq

[deadeye]

Those are exactly the links I looked up after reading your previous posting. I guess what I'm looking for is something that would smell like a rotten substance the character would expect to find in basement, but realize too late that it isn't a natural food-gone-bad odor, but an angry spirit. I need to play with it and do rewrites to get the point across I guess.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Hmm...that's quite a cooincidence. Everyone Google's I guess. :p

I would say that the best advice is to use your imagination, be creative with it! :)

[LordSimen]

Here's the second draft of a short story I'm writing for an English class. Very Lovecraft inspired. What'chyall think?

What Dwells Within
Written by Josh Langland

“Disgusting swine.” Jared Barker growled as he gazed upon the abomination whose abhorrent demeanor displayed itself upon the mirror before him. Nothing brought him more scorn than that of the manifestation of his own appearance and today was surely no different.
Yesterday marked the sixtieth year since his forbearer pushed the barely breathing wrinkled mound of flesh she called her son out of her frame. Unfortunately for him, the years since have been just as destructive to his own form as his creation was for hers.
Jared’s withered hand scratched a rough patch of skin upon his chest with hesitation. He swore he could feel the black-blotted skin itself peel and squish like rotten apricot. He wondered briefly if all his old companions were experiencing similar moments in their life as he was at that very moment. Then he remembered that he simply had no companions; not one being to care for him or his decaying exterior.
Unable to bare the sight of his newfound imperfection, Mr. Barker retired to his bed room where he draped into a robe with a soft belt that barely fit around his bloated gut. He wound his old alarm clock upon his mantle for he knew that he had an important meeting to attend in the morn.
Barker fancied himself as a captain of industry; a real go-getter whose rise to the top was chronicled by newspapers all across the globe over the course of the last forty years. He compiled such an enormous fortune that the mansion in which he dwelled was merely one of six that he in fact owned. Granted, the other five mansions were merely in his possession because they were the five estates surrounding his abode and his value for privacy proved to have no foreseeable limit.
The decumbent chorus of the grandfather clock echoed through the hallways of the debilitated lakeside manor signifying to all who heeded it’s melody that the latest hour of the eve had dawn. Jared’s acknowledgement of the timekeeper’s hourly crescendo consisted merely of a groan. Time was simply moving too fast for poor old Mr. Barker to keep up with it.
He laid back in bed with the robe expanded upon either side of his form as the belt that troubled him earlier seemed to no longer able to handle the wear and tear brought on by Jared’s lumpy midsection. He was tired, yet he could not sleep. He couldn’t even close his eyes- he just stared at the ceiling blankly lost in his own thoughts. Reminiscing of his glory years, no doubt.
Something then moved. Not in the room, nor in the house. Something moved within his body. He could feel it on his chest. A worm-like slug squirming inside his skin. He looked upon it with pure freight.
The questions came in hordes. Is something taken host inside of him? A creature of unknown origin? Why is this happening to him, of all people?
The skin-slug circled around the black blotted mush on Jared’s chest. Jared sat up and cautiously placed his finger in its path. The slug stopped as a result.
But then, almost as if Jared’s actions had merely given it pause to reflect, the slug curved around Jared’s finger and began a new path straight toward Jared’s stomach.
The creature sunk deep inside Jared’s stomach and disappeared from visible sight. But Jared could still feel it inside of him. It squirmed and wiggled through his stomach.
Before Jared even had the slightest moment to contemplate the situation he was struck with the most intense, quite literally gut-wrenching pain imaginable. He clenched tightly to his gullet and flew to the floor.
He lay at the foot of his bed writhed in pain. He let out an ungodly howl- Not that of a man, but of a dying creature. He whipped his body back and forth, his anatomy contorted in ways only possible through years of intense physical training; none of which Mr. Barker had ever actually partaken in.
His face collided with the wooden fibers of the floor repeatedly- An intentional decision made with the hope he’d either knock himself unconscious or that the pain caused by the new gashes created upon each consecutive impact would distract his mind from the torment in his abdomen. His insides shifted and rearranged as he lay. He could feel them as they shook and convulsed as if they had just been struck by lightning.
Jared tried oh so desperately to muster a reason for the event that had transpired that night. But he couldn’t figure one. There is no reason he deserved this and there is no reason something like this should happen. Especially not to him, a man of such stature and poise that he is not unlike that of a god among those in his line of work.
But nether-the-less, his body had begun a change that he could never understand. For he was not a god despite what his hubris would tell him. He was simply a man. A man with a frail, human body susceptible to thousands upon thousands of ailments and even more otherworldly transmutations that he could never known to have existed.
Suddenly he sat up and arched his back to wail. But his voice was distorted by the blood that gargled inside his mouth. This wasn’t a result of internal bleeding, but a case of a complete fluid cleansing of his body. All his blood, every single pint of it, sprayed upon the roof and walls- which effectively gave the room a shiny coat of crimson.
His stomach began to bubble as if his skin itself had become a liquid in design. The bubbles hissed as they spread across his entire body. Every inch of his flesh covered in this bubbly skin-like substance.
The experience, or sensation, of this was akin to that of having his entire body burned straight to the bone whilst was entirely conscious of each second of the pain.
He couldn’t scream anymore, as his lungs no longer existed. He couldn’t move, as his nerves were burned away. The only thing that remained intact was his mind and his soul, both of which were able to feel everything.
Finally his body melted away into a globe of flesh on the ground that bound together into a ball. The ball expanded bigger and bigger like an inflated balloon. Then the ball exploded, coating the crimson walls with a checker pattern made completely from strips of flesh.
Now there was something else in the room. A creature that had been inside the mound that was once Jared’s body. A monster of such a disgusting design that to describe it to anyone would effectively cause them to lose their minds. It wasn’t physical in design, but rather celestial and beyond our feeble limitations of our human minds.
After that night the world was engulfed in decay and ruin. When that which dwelled within was reborn the human race was devoured into a whirlwind of madness.

[MisterTwister]

Very good LS. Well written and interesting. Excellent ending, too.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Very impressive, LordSimen. Excellent prose if I do say so myself. (And I do.) I anticipate becoming an avid reader of your novels in the future. :)

I've been taking my writing slowly lately. A little slower than I would prefer actually, so not much to report from me.

[CosmicPuppet]

.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

And the Most Purposeless Post of the Year Award goes to...

.

[CosmicPuppet]

Sorry, I was actually going to post something, but it was late and I had to space all the paragraphs apart so I said screw it. I was tired.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Oh. Really? Apollogy accepted. I thought that you were just Posting that to be a jerk or something, so I guess that I owe you an apollogy as well. Sowwy! :)

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Not to be pimping out other Forums than Jo-Blo, but...I found this web-site for writers, made an account today.

www.writingforums.org

[CosmicPuppet]

The Body of the Meek
By Jordan Santos

The red neon cross flickered over the roof of the soggy Church on Crenshaw Avenue. The flickering drew the attention of Charlie Wright, a man who had moved back to Los Angeles and was looking for salvation in the form of a dollar. Charlie was homeless and well-traveled. He lived all along the West Coast for the last fifteen years. He had an haggard beard that he trimmed once a week. His smelled like foul sweat and coconut from a sun screen he put on every day. He kept himself underweight through a diet that consisted of peanut butter and bananas. He didn’t eat any meat since he considered it a luxury and Charlie couldn’t afford any indulgence. He only needed enough money for a pair of scissors and his daily nourishment of food and water. In the fifteen years he had been hustling the streets, he only got tired of his diet a handful of times, usually when he walked by a steak house. He always made sure to avoid them in LA, particularly, Taylor’s.

This was the first time Charlie had come back to the city after a self imposed exile. He promised not to come back due to the torture of failure the city had brought him. It beat Charlie to a bloody pulp and left wounds that would never heal. There was the chance of seeing his ex-wife, or his old colleagues from the Civil Court House in downtown around Hill Street. He was terrified he might relapse. Charlie seldom acknowledged his past life and did his best to make it disappear like grains of sand sliding through his foggy mind. Regardless, there were always a few grains which clung to his thoughts and infected him with the guilt that sent him wandering the country.

To hide from ever having to confront his past, Charlie would hang around Mid-City and hide amongst the tramps. He doubted anybody from would recognize him, as he forgot what he used to look like. He resembled Captain Ahab, but he had no white whale to chase, only a vague impression of survival. This instinct served him well as he had enough charm to score quarters, even dollar bills from pedestrians. He had a knack for creating a rapport with strangers. Once, in Portland, he was given a hundred dollar bill after defending a woman who was being mugged. He felt courageous and gave the woman a hug only to realize he made her uncomfortable. He could smell her fear and see the disgust in her face. He apologized and since then, Charlie never went out of his way to defend anyone. His only motivation was to get enough money to support his living, so to him, that meant targeting generous people who would give unconditionally. Religious people usually fit the profile. Poor suckers, he thought.

This is how Charlie found the Second Coming of Christ Church on Crenshaw. The flickering crimson cross beckoned him from across the street. The walls were cracked egg shells and they absorbed the rain water like an old sponge. As he got closer, the musty scent crept past his whiskers. He stood ten feet from the door, a rule he had picked up over the years. Stand too close and people feel threatened, but give them enough room and they’ll be friendlier. Charlie heard them chanting their hymn inside. It was always was funny to hear people off-key. He always tried to focus on those singers for fun. But the song was over and he noticed people began to shuffle outside, one after another.

As soon as the first couple got close enough, Charlie hit them with the classic, “God bless you my brothers.” They smiled warmly at him and the balding man reached into his coat and gave him a few cents. Charlie nodded his head and they were off on there way. This happened a few more times. Some simply shrugged and gave him that, “Times are hard” look that people have when they don’t want to say they are sorry.

Eventually, the Preacher noticed Charlie and couldn’t help but walk over to him and say hello. The Preacher was easily over six feet tall and had a stocky frame. His hands were large and rough like a man who worked construction. He wasn’t the average, frail holy man Charlie had come to expect. Then again, most of the holy people he met were Catholic.

“Hi,” Charlie spoke, “Warm evening, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Can’t beat that California weather. Almost like paradise.”

The Preacher smirked and said, “Hell can be deceptively inviting. From afar, it can feel like paradise, but once inside, it’s sears the flesh.”

“I guess that’s another way to describe global warming.” Charlie said. He was short, so he had to look up at the Preacher, which he felt gave him that much more of a presence among most of his followers.

“It’s not the world that’s getting hotter,” The Preacher spoke, “It’s our souls.”
Charlie laughed. He had never heard of that before. “That’s pretty good,” He said, “My name’s Charlie. What’s yours Father, I mean, Reverend?”

“Reverend Lazarus!” Somebody shouted from behind the Preacher. One of his followers was calling him from the doorway. Lazarus looked back at them and said, “I’m sorry, but I have to tend to a fellow brother, Charlie. God bless. Have a good night.”

Lazarus walked back to his follower. He glanced at Charlie and smiled at him as he walked inside. Lazarus’ outlook on life amused Charlie. Priests were usually the men of fire and brimstone, but Preachers were usually much more forgiving and weren’t as obsessed with the damnation. Or was it the other way around? He couldn’t keep track of them. But he didn’t seem like any of the religious man he had met before. They were all usually mad and trying to convert you whenever they ran out of things to say. Lazarus didn’t come onto him with that nonsense. There was intensity in his eyes, the kind that sees through hollow people. Charlie strolled off and wondered if Lazarus saw through his act.

A couple of hours later, Charlie found an alley to sleep in. He found a discarded tarp. He set it up as a tent by tying one end to the top corner of a dumpster and the other end on the ground, which he patted down with some heavy broken bricks. As he huddled inside kept he getting hints of rotting noodles and warm mayonnaise. It made him dream he was laying in a mass grave of bodies. He was stuck in the middle, alive, but dead at the same time. Unable to move or speak as soldiers walked over the bodies trying to look for survivors as they shouted, “Is there anybody out here?!” In his mind, Charlie wept and cried for help, but the soldiers kept on walking over him, stepping on him as if he was a used rug. “I’m alive,” he screamed in his head, “Please, stop! I’m alive!” After being there for what seemed an eternity, a bright white light shined over Charlie’s eyes. Charlie stared up into the red sky, where an white circle of light was beaming down on him. It was comforting him until a voice spoke, “Wake up! Wake up, you fucking bum! Get out of my alley!”

Charlie woke up to find the proprietor of a restaurant standing in front of the dumpster. He held a flashlight in his hands and kept pointing it down at him. Charlie gathered his things and walked off. He walked another five blocks until he found a park that wasn’t there when he had lived in the city fifteen years before. He found a gazebo and tucked himself in the corner until he woke up around seven that morning to the sound of joggers talking loudly about their day’s plans and jazzercise.

Charlie walked to a local video store and hung out by the window, getting glimpses of the TV screens inside which was playing a show that intrigued him. It took place on a beach. There were a mixed group of survivors arguing with each other and getting into adventures in an exotic locale. He hated TV, but for some reason, the show was intriguing. He noticed the cashier staring at him, so Charlie walked in and introduced himself. He apologized for watching, but he had to ask what show he was watching. The clerk told him, “Lost.” Charlie replied, “That about sums up my experience watching it. I don’t know what’s going on.” The clerk smirked, “Nobody does. Although I hear it’s purgatory or something like that.” Charlie was intrigued, and since the store was dead, the clerk began to let him in on the show and summarized the events that happened. This was the first actual human interaction Charlie had with anybody and it was about something artificial. He smiled in amusement and didn’t really care about the show, but it had been a long time since he saw a person speak so passionately to him about something, even if it was just a TV show.

Charlie later walked back to the Church and stood at his usual spot. He was surprised to find that no other homeless people had bothered to claim the area or even acknowledged the place. It must have been the exterior. It must have been the old paint chipping off daily like pieces of flint. The rusty metal door must have not been inviting. Or the feeble attempts at graffiti which bombarded the wall like a bad rash. If it was the Mormon Church on the other side of town, it might have attracted more people. But that one had a security guard to keep poor people out. The Mormon Church didn’t want any outsiders to interfere with whatever went on inside.

Charlie was staring at the clouds when a cold hand gripped his shoulder. Even though his layers of tattered clothes, a slight chill crept through him. It was Lazarus who had that same smile on his face.

“I guess even Hell has its cold days, huh?” Charlie said.

“It’s just another trick of the devil. He plays them on all of us. One minute, it’s a beautiful day, the next it burns like acid, then you’re shivering in the wind.”

“I’m liking the way you describe things, Lazarus.”

“Thanks, I try to have some levity in my life.”

Charlie chuckled as he looked at Lazarus, a man who looked more at home holding a sledge hammer than he did a bible. “Lazarus,” Charlie mused, “He was the guy who came back to life, right?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Technically, that made him a zombie, didn’t it?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but if you die, like you’re dead for more than a day and you come back to life, than doesn’t that qualify you to be a zombie?”

“Not if your soul comes back to your body, which is what actually happened. I haven’t watched that movie in a long time, so correct me if I’m wrong, but zombies don’t have any consciousness or a soul, right?”

“Yeah, they don’t. At least they didn’t in Night of the Living Dead.”

[CosmicPuppet]

The Body of the Meek -- Part 2
By Jordan Santos

Lazarus’ smile left and he looked Charlie straight in the eyes. Charlie wasn’t sure if he had insulted him. “Can I ask you for something, Charlie?” He said.

“Depends on what it is. If you need money, I can’t really help you in that department. You should ask the President.”

“We’ve been doing a project at the Church and I’d like for you to be a part of it.”

“I don’t know. I was born a skeptic. I came out of my mother’s womb clawing at her walls like a man falling into quick sand.’”

“It has nothing to do with your beliefs. We just bought the entire lot, and we’re setting up a shelter in the back building. We’ve been cleaning it up for months now and well, you’re the first person I’d like to ask to come by.”

“I really the generosity, but I couldn’t read a bible if it had pictures of naked women. Isn’t that how it usually works, you take me in and try to teach me the way of the Bible?”

“I don’t teach anything to anybody who doesn’t want to learn. I just thought you were a decent, honest person.”

“I am pretty honest. Decent? I hope so.”

“I didn’t mean to be presumptuous. It’s just I prepared some soup and -- Never mind… I’m sorry.” Lazarus said as he walked away.

“What kind of soup?” Charlie asked.

“Clam chowder.”

“No shit?” He said, licking his lips, “I love clam chowder.”

“It’s my grand father’s recipe.”

“Well, I can’t really say no to that. I’m sorry I came off like a jerk.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure you thought I was trying to convert you.”

“Nooo… You? Well, maybe just a little.” Charlie tried chuckling a bit to lighten the mood, but Lazarus stared at him with a stern gaze as he said, “I don’t do that. You can’t save anybody who doesn’t want to be saved.”

They walked back inside. Charlie’s stomach gurgled in anticipation. It would be his first meal of the day, and possibly in five years. “This is it,” Lazarus said. Charlie’s mouth watered, so he looked around the church to take his mind off of the soup. He counted only six pews. There were two stained glass windows, both of which were not even lit from the sun, but with a fake artificial light behind the glass. The altar at the back of the room was beaten up and probably once a debate podium. He could read words, “Hamilton High Can Suck It!” carved in the side of it. Out of habit, he looked around for a statue of Jesus nailed to the cross. He was relieved not to see it for the hundredth time.

“I know it’s not anything special, but it’s not the outside that counts.” Lazarus said, “It’s what you get inside your soul.”

Charlie nodded his head like he understood, but he probably would never bother to come here even if he had been religious. It was a shoe box compared to just about anything. It was the last place one finds enlightenment except to maybe leave. That was the only revelation Charlie ever stumbled upon as a child. The sermons were all mush in his brain by now, but he remembered the Priest feeding him a thin wafer and a sip of watered down wine. He wondered why only Catholics did that. Did the Protestants or Evangelicals get cookies and milk instead? All he could recall were random thoughts from when he was seven. Lazarus showed him to the back door. Their shoes clung to the grimy linoleum floor with every step sounding like they had tape on their soles.

In the back, there was a space between the church and the back building. The concrete had a spider’s web crack that formed around a drain hole in the center. An old creaky basketball hoop was bolted to the high cement wall that enclosed the lot. The net was black and shredded. Lazarus pointed Charlie to the small building with two floors. Lazarus unlocked the door and walked across to a table which was in a makeshift kitchen. Charlie could smell the clam chowder brewing in the pot on the stove. His stomach began talking again as Lazarus grabbed a bowl and began serving him with a ladle. They sat down on the wooden dining table and Charlie began slurping down the soup with a slice of bread he kept dipping and taking bites.

Lazarus smiled as Charlie ate the soup in no time at all. Charlie leaned back on his chair and burped. He excused himself and began stroking his beard.

“This is the first time I had chowder since I was staying up in San Francisco.”

“How long were you there for?”

“About a year. I’ve been up and down the West coast. I’ve been to San Diego, Tijuana, Portland, Humboldt, Oakland, even up to around the border of Canada.”

“That’s quite a journey.”

“Yeah, it was great. Not to say there weren’t hard times. There was a lot of shit I don’t care to remember, but hey, I bought the ticket and took the ride.”

Charlie’s belly began to gurgle again. The soup didn’t settle too well with his stomach. He clutched himself. He took deep breaths, hoping to let the ache pass. “I think I need some water.” He said. His head began to throb a little. “I think something might be wrong with the soup.”

Lazarus just stared at him with his arms crossed. He didn’t move. Charlie began to feel heavy. He took deep breaths, and was nervous, “I’m serious. I need some water.”

Lazarus stared at Charlie, studying his condition. “You already feel it? That was fast.”

“Feel what?” Charlie asked. He yawned. His eyes were getting a little foggy. He had to concentrate to keep his jaw from opening. A little drool dribbled down his beard.

Lazarus came in closer and looked down at Charlie.“I put a sedative in the soup. I stole it from a drug dealer.”

“What the fuck? You’re kidding, right?” Charlie said as he tried getting up. He tripped over and fell into Lazarus’ arms. Lazarus held up his head to look at him and spoke softly: “It’s okay now, Charlie. Sleep. It’ll be all over soon.”

Charlie fell into a black hole where time stood still. He didn’t dream.

A metallic cold sensation awoke Charlie from his sleep. He screamed and shivered from the touch of the metal table he was lying on. He tried getting up, but he was strapped down to the table, naked. He tried lifting his head but it was strapped down to the table. All that he could see was a bright light bulb hanging over his head from a white ceiling.

“Lazarus! Lazarus!”

For a moment, there was nothing until he could hear a zipper being opened behind him. And then Lazarus’ voice: “I’m here.” Charlie screamed, “Please, let me go! I haven’t done anything!” He could hear the sticky footsteps walk closer to the table. Charlie rolled his eyes back and looked up at Lazarus who stood in a black leather apron with black gloves on and a scalpel in his hand.

“What is this?”

“I have been instructed not to speak.”

“Whatever you want to do, I won’t say anything. Just let me go. I’ll walk out of here naked. Please, don’t rape me! Don’t kill me! Whatever it is that you want to do!”

“Please, Charlie, be quiet. This has nothing to do with you or me. This is about God’s work. This is something you couldn’t understand.”

Charlie couldn’t think of anything to say as Lazarus walked away into the darkness. He wanted to rationalize the situation, but he couldn’t. Lazarus couldn’t tell him why he was going to cut open his body. He wasn’t doing it for pleasure. He wasn’t doing it to inflict pain on Charlie. He was given an order from God and he felt that if he didn’t listen to God, he would be like the rest of the lost sheep. His eyes swelled up with tears as he looked back at Charlie. God said he would feel agony and hesitance the first time.

Even if he had explained the dream to Charlie, it wouldn’t make sense to him and he would look crazy. Maybe he was crazy, but he couldn’t deny the feeling after he woke up from the dream. Lazarus remembered being a child in it. He was physically the same, but in his mind he was a scared boy surrounded by tall oak trees and a grass field that was up to his knees. The trees grew twisted faces like a Jack O’ Lantern. All he could do was look up into the bright sun above him to keep himself shielded away from the trees. He cried for Jesus to help him whose face appeared burnt into the sun’s surface. Lazarus raised his arms as to grab it, and then the Sun grew arms of blazing fire and reached down to pick up him up. The arms of fire raised Lazarus above the trees, through the misted sky and into space. It was so bright, that space soon became drenched in the white light. As he got closer, Lazarus realized the Sun was a naked woman, sitting with her legs crossed with the light creating a perfect circle around her body. The giant woman, God, placed him on her lap and began speaking softly as if every word was a part of a grand symphony. She told him what he had to do through music. An orchestra of instructions fed into brain. To comfort him, she let Lazarus feed off her right breast and looked into his saucer like eyes as he received the message.

The Son of God, Jesus Christ, is going to be reborn. But it isn’t like what was written in the Bible. He needs a body. A vessel made up of the meek, the hungry, and the poor. He needs it to come back and fight the final battle against the greatest evil imaginable. Lazarus understood as she showed him the images of what he was going to do. He was going to have to kill people in the name of God. He had to follow God’s will and if he didn’t, he would have to pay for turning his back on the mission.

Staring down at Charlie, Lazarus began to wonder, was it all a dream? I never had a dream that powerful. I never had spoken to God before, he thought. He used to pretend to have a close relationship and base it solely on blind faith, but he finally saw God and there was nothing he could do but accept this task. He grabbed a piece of tape and cut it. He placed it over Charlie’s mouth who began crying and begged him in muffled pleas: “Pwuzz, Uhh buh guh! Uhh wuuhshuup Guhhd! Oh pwuzz!”

Lazarus put another piece over his mouth. He looked down at Charlie with tears in his eyes and spoke, “You may lie to me, but you can’t lie to God. No matter what, God will always know. He has shown me the path and I must follow.”

Lazarus looked to the back of the room where a line of his followers stood and watched. Standing there were couples, parents, even children, witnessing the first sacrifice. They were the people who remained in the congregation after Lazarus declared he spoke to God. Those who truly believed him stayed. They believed Lazarus’ dream was real because he was the most righteous man they had ever known. He had converted so many people that there was no way he could be wrong. They never saw an ounce of sin in his body. His every word was guided by God’s voice. His every gesture was an act of charity. A few of the children began to cry, but their parents whispered in their ears and held onto their shoulders tightly.

“It’s okay to cry,” A mother said as she put her weight on her son’s shoulders. This was God’s doing. The children wiped away their tears and forced their eyes to watch. The parents looked at Lazarus and nodded their heads to reassure him. It was the beginning of a bloody miracle. Either they left with the others or they had to stay and witness until Jesus was resurrected. It was worth the price of the bodies.

Lazarus touched Charlie’s stomach with the scalpel. The liver and the heart, he thought, that will be the first offering to Him. His hands shook and dropped the scalpel. He looked into Charlie’s crying eyes, begging to be let go. Lazarus felt a ping of remorse and wanted to cut Charlie’s restraints. Lazarus gripped the scalpel again and it dug it into Charlie’s body. His scream pierced through the tape. The children covered their ears and closed their eyes to hide from the blood that poured out and trickled onto the table. The parents watched in disgust and awe as Charlie’s body spasmed in pain. He vomited from the pain, which seeped the tiny crevasses of the tape. The children began crying, “Stop it! Make him stop momma!” A young voice hummed, getting the others’ attention. A teenaged girl with red hair was humming. The melody became clear and she sang, “He’s got the whole world, in his hands. He’s got the whole world, in his hands.”

One by one, the rest of the followers began chanting as they watched Lazarus perform his first sacrifice. Lazarus cried silently as the life disappeared from Charlie’s eyes. The body trembled one last time and then it went limp. Lazarus reached inside the body pretending the inside was warm chunky soup. He looked off to the side at a medical textbook that had a piture of a liver on it. Lazarus realized he would have to cut him open more to be able to take out the organs without damaging them. “I’m sorry,” Lazarus said at Charlie’s black stare. He had to finish what he started. It was all for the best cause. It had to be, this was God’s will.

[MistAh BlistAh]

Not to be pimping out other Forums than Jo-Blo, but...I found this web-site for writers, made an account today.

www.writingforums.org

Not as snazzy as Joblo but looks decent :cool:

Thankz for the link.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Of course not;np. ;)

I'm sorta rushed at the moment, but I'll give your story a looksy later, Cosmicpuppet. :)

[CosmicPuppet]

Cool, I appreciate it. I understand how busy things get. I've been on essay writing mode in school for a while now and it takes up a lot of my time.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Thanks for the understanding. Between homework, school projects, and spending time with the family its hard to fit in time for reading, writing, or reviewing. (Hence the delay in my Reviews From the Dark Side.) And of course these last few weeks I've been swamped with four projects back-to-back and homework, so I haven't gotten time to get much done.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Kay, I read the story. It was pretty good, man, congratulations! I definitely enjoyed the idea and the two main characters came off well. I also liked the bit about God as a woman, you hardly get to see that.

[countchocula]

Well done, Cosmic. I liked your imagery. Any plans to try and get it published somewhere?

[LordSimen]

Very impressive, LordSimen. Excellent prose if I do say so myself. (And I do.) I anticipate becoming an avid reader of your novels in the future. :)


Many thanks to both you and MisterTwister. =)

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Many thanks to both you and MisterTwister. =)

No, thanks to you and all those of you that have Posted their stories on here. You truly are all very talented. :)

[CosmicPuppet]

Thanks guys. Glad you enjoyed it. Count, I actually haven't thought about publishing it. I wrote it about two years ago. It's been on the back of my mind though. I feel like adapting it into a script. I have an ending in mind for the story, and the basic crumbs to show me the way. But since I'm working on another feature script at the moment, it might be a while until I get to it.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

I wrote a Horror story yesterday and today, its in dire need of another Draft, but I find it pretty funny. Its about a guy who masturbates to a picture of a girl and finds out that somehow doing so impregnated her with his child. :D

[CosmicPuppet]

That's a funny idea man. I'm curious to check it out.

[countchocula]

Cool idea, Ging. You should make it a 3-year-old girl.

I had a flurry of ideas today while taking a shit. I'm hesitant to disclose all of them, but one idea, in particular, cracked me up. It would be a horror/comedy where a detective starts murdering people for the fun of it. Back at the precinct, he is assigned to his own case. So he goes to the scene of a crime that he committed, and he tries to find ways to frame other people. I thought it would be funny to make him an idiot. I can see him standing over his victim with reporters, forensic investigators, and colleagues surrounding him.

"Um, Sanders, you better take a look at this."
"Hey, isn't that your wedding band?"
"That? Yeah. Er, I meant that over there. Look at that."
"Jesus, this guy's a sicko."
"Yeah. Mother of God. Holy Christ. Sweet Jesus."
"Something wrong?"
"No."

[countchocula]

Y'know, it's easy to come up with ideas, but I don't know when the hell I'm going to write this shit. It's hard enough keeping up with "Catheter."

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

The story is called Embryo:A Masturbitorial Romance, I put it in an "anthology" of mine (Which is really just a spiral-bound notebook) that I titled:To Write Love In Her Blood. Ten points if you get the joke, Count! ;) But I'd really like to give it another Draft so that it is at least decent enough to Post on here with a *Major Suckage* warning. :p

But I'm waiting for the right idea to come along so that I can start another novel. What I have in mind was how I was thinking about my Horror and Fantasy stories and how they are indistinguishable. Then while doing an English report on The History of Horror Literature I read that there was a time when Horror, Fantasy, and Sci-Fi were all the same, but later on went on to be marketed seperately. I would really like to write a story in the vein of all three genres, but alas I have no ideas for a plot-line, only random, nonsensical scenes. :(

[Wolfe4086]

But I'm waiting for the right idea to come along so that I can start another novel. What I have in mind was how I was thinking about my Horror and Fantasy stories and how they are indistinguishable. Then while doing an English report on The History of Horror Literature I read that there was a time when Horror, Fantasy, and Sci-Fi were all the same, but later on went on to be marketed seperately. I would really like to write a story in the vein of all three genres, but alas I have no ideas for a plot-line, only random, nonsensical scenes. :(

This is why I have a hard time categorizing my own material. How do you classify stories involving Genetically Enchanced Assassins who wield magic fighting Vampires and Demons?

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

This is why I have a hard time categorizing my own material. How do you classify stories involving Genetically Enchanced Assassins who wield magic fighting Vampires and Demons?

If you ask me, Horror is just a marketing label as far as novels go. For most films Horror is Horror, but when I read authors like Stephen King or Clive Barker, it doesn't feel like it's just Horror. Its pretty dumb imo. :p

[Wolfe4086]

If you ask me, Horror is just a marketing label as far as novels go. For most films Horror is Horror, but when I read authors like Stephen King or Clive Barker, it doesn't feel like it's just Horror. Its pretty dumb imo. :p

I have heard Clive Barker called Splatter Punk which is an obvious offshoot of Horror. Horror as a label does make some sense since some people do not want to read blood and guts so putting the horror label on it helps them avoid it. Just as if a Horror fan does not want to deal with SciFi based themes. What is difficult is the material that transcends these traditional boundaries.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Then they should have a "Transcending Genre" isle too, for those of us that like a little bit of it all! :D

[MistAh BlistAh]

Here's a lil' something I've been workin on for the past week (I'm a slow writer ;)), just finished...


Infected
By Justus Sheehan

Temperatures have reached their high for the day. I’ve never gotten use to the heat, but it has become bearable. Those infected seem to be immune to the rays of the sun. I’ve tried finding possible solutions to this problem, however it seems to be hopeless as there doesn’t seem to be any. So instead I must seek refuge on a daily basis. My current location and the place I’ve learned to call home is in a broken down and busted up apartment complex, looks like it hasn’t been occupied for years. I’ve boarded up the remaining windows where light shines through, clearly more work needs to be done, but it is acceptable at the moment.

Over the years, I’ve had plenty of close encounters with the savages that roam the streets. Their skin still seems to be intact, while they infect each other with numerous diseases and viruses. Some of their illnesses have become treatable, but none of them are completely immune. This society of animals has taken over everywhere I’ve been. I’ve never had faith but I’ve always hoped that there are others like me out there, somehow finding a way and having the will to survive.

I once had a family, but all have perished. My siblings were also immune, just like me. But none of that seems to matter when the damned get their hands on you. All I have left of them is a distant memory, as I’ve been alone for so long now. I try not to sleep much but when I do, all I see is flashes of that day when the infected got a hold of my family. My brother was beaten, while my sister was raped until eventually, they were crucified. They’re lifeless bodies were left hanging for weeks until finally they were set to fire and all I could do was watch from a distance. Somehow I find the strength from within to carry on, vengeance seems to be the only thing that keeps me going.

There was a time when I believed it was possible for us to coexist, but it feels like that was centuries ago. They seem to have technology on their side, while I’ve been forced back to basics as they now view my kind as nothing more then Neanderthals. No matter how advanced they become, they still possess traits of a wild animal. There’s no changing who they are or where they come from, but I suppose the same could be said for myself.

Hours pass as I wait patiently for nightfall. The view of the sunset, although I can’t bare to watch it, is the signal for when the world becomes somewhat safer, even if for a short period of time. It brings a certain level of comfort, words can’t even describe. It’s ironic however, as the thought of sunrise not only threatens but sickens me. Not something I wish to think about at the present time, as there is work to be done. I shouldn’t cloud my mind while my priority objective has yet to be completed.

This particular objective involves those who are infected. Their immune system is weak, which as a result affects the length of their life span. Their sickness limits some of their capabilities, but there is and always will be at least one use for them. This use just happens to be of great importance as it’s kept me alive as long as I can remember.

The skies go dark, as night has fallen. The task must be completed now. Just as they have hunted my kind, it is I, who must now hunt for theirs. I’ve never killed for fun or for sport, as what I must do is a necessity for survival. The hunger from within is calling now, as my stomach rumbles without it. The dryness of my mouth urges to quench the thirst. There is no more stalling, as time is of the essence. I must leave now if I’m to make it back before sunrise. One of their kind must be sacrificed, it’s the only way to stop my blood lust...at least for now.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Very interesting, Blister. :)

I've been busy at work on my dark rendition of Hansel and Gretel. (As of now untitled.) After that I have two, maybe three shorts lined up.

[MistAh BlistAh]

Thanks for checkin 'er out.

I tried posting it on that writing forum, but holy cow, the mods there are goofs. Dude closed it saying the feedback I left for others wasn't good enough, like wtf. Then I made a thread in the help section asking another mod or admin to look in to this matter, but the same dude closed and deleted that thread then told me not to make posts about mods, wow, the people over there clearly do not know how to run a site as they just lost a member.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

You mean that Cogito guy? Yea, idk what's with him. I really haven't gotten much-okay, any-writing done to Post on there, but I think that there's a rule that you have to Review two stories before you can Post your own.

[MistAh BlistAh]

You mean that Cogito guy? Yea, idk what's with him. I really haven't gotten much-okay, any-writing done to Post on there, but I think that there's a rule that you have to Review two stories before you can Post your own.

Yaaaa, it was that goof! Thats the thing though, I did review 2 because I read the rules before posting, then he said my reviews wern't good enough, dude takes his mod job a bit too seriously, haha. Oh well, I found another writing forum similar to it, where its much more layed back and less Nazi like.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

He just needs to settle down, and it kinda peeves me off how he has a certain post for every situation and hardly ever actually sits down and writes something. The Mods around here are much friendlier and kewler. (Not to be sucking anybody off, but its 100% true.)

[fourcerer]

why I can not quote?

_________________
Free Price Quotes on new and used cars, trucks, and suvs.
Opel Zafira (http://www.ramunelis.com)

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

I'm not sure. Is your internet/computer really slow? :confused:

Nonetheless, welcome to the Boards, fourcerer. Love the Avatar/Username. :)

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

I've been busy typing up my novel, (I always write by free-hand until now that I have the intention of getting published) so I may have some exerpts for you guys in the near future. :)

[XCoRyX]

I actually have a question i'm a bit stumbled on,and it may be a dumb one...but I have some typical descriptions, musically in terms of certain songs i'd like to be noted in an upcoming novel/story i'm working on...somewhat like American Psycho's descriptions of Phil Collins, Huey Lewis etc.,

Is it illegal to mention a song and artist by name in a story? Just simply, how a character enjoys it or plays it at the bar, etc.,

[countchocula]

No, a mere mention wouldn't be illegal. Just don't call the novel The Ghost Who Listened To Metallica.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

...Thank God for that because I probably have about a hundred band/film references in my novel already, and its become sort of a characteristic of the story itself! Then again I doubted it since King, etc. are always mentioning their favorite bands/films.

So there's a Creative Writing class around my area that's taking applications in for this Summer. It counts as one College Credit and sounds like a lot of fun, but costs around $700-$800. They are doing scholarships though...(Honest opinions) should I bother applying for a Scholarship?

[XCoRyX]

No, a mere mention wouldn't be illegal. Just don't call the novel The Ghost Who Listened To Metallica.

cool thanks for the answer dude.

[countchocula]

No problem.

So there's a Creative Writing class around my area that's taking applications in for this Summer. It counts as one College Credit and sounds like a lot of fun, but costs around $700-$800. They are doing scholarships though...(Honest opinions) should I bother applying for a Scholarship?

I took a Creative Writing class in High School, and it was my best experience in High School (bear in mind that I hated school altogether). Talk to your folks about it, and tell them how much writing means to you. Personally, I would gladly shell out the cash for my kid, but I don't know what your family's financial situation is. If they can't afford it right now, they can't afford it. A scholarship might be a good idea.

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Yeah, I'm definitely going to think about it. Thanks for the advice. :)

[Aba-DaBa-Tua]

Here's something I wrote for fun around Halloween, 2 or 3 years ago ... can't really remember which.



UNTITLED:

By Roberto.

"It sure is beautiful isn’t it?"

Her voice was soft and sweet, her touch warm to his skin. He wraps his strong arm around her and holds her closer as they lookup into the night sky, admiring the beauty of the stars above.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you, Mary."

He knows she smiles which makes him smile. It had been awhile since they had been able to spend time alone, too long in fact. Work had gotten in the way for both of them but it was hard getting time off, one being a nurse and the other being a soldier.

"Roberto," Mary began as she nuzzled up closer. "Why don’t we do this more often?"

"I think you know dear," He sighed. "Vacation time is coming up though, we’re going somewhere alone. I promise."

Roberto and Mary go silent once again, staring up at the black sky as they were before. Moments past before Mary’s right hand begins to roam. She starts by softly running her fingers along Roberto’s stomach but quickly trailing down to the top of his black sweats. Mary nipples at her bottom lip as she places her hand down into her lover’s pants and begins to caress him. A smile forms on Roberto’s face, of course, and he turns his face to hers and kisses her deeply. He uses one arm to pull her close and on reflex she rolls over on top of him. Roberto moves his hands down her back and grabs a hold of her shorts, slowly pulling them down. When they come all the way off Mary leans in and kisses Roberto softly on the lips and begins trailing down to his chin , neck and over to the ear.

"I Love you." she whispers.

Before creeping down further and further until she reaches exactly where it is that she is aiming for. Immediately he lets out a deep breath and swallows hard. His eyes shut as he takes in the incredible pleasure.

Roberto’s eyes shoot open as he hears the sound of rustling leaves. He considers stopping Mary but the sound stops so he allows her to continue. She doesn’t resist as his hands make their way down and rest on the top of her head, guiding her along.

Then the sound came again.

"What the fuck?" He says out loud.

Mary stops and lifts her head up.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Listen""

Nothing.

"What?" She asks again.

Nothing.

"You didn’t hear that?"

"What!?"

The leaves rustle again.

"THAT!" Roberto tries listening in once again. "Someone is around here."

"Babe that could be anything, a squirrel maybe."

"What if it’s not?"

"What if you’re just paranoid someone is going to catch you with your pants down?"

The leaves rustle again. This time coming from right beneath the truck.

"Hold on babe," Roberto pulls up his sweats and adjusts to get on one knee. "Let me just make sure."

"Fine." Mary leans back. "But this isn’t helping the mood."

He leans in and kisses her with a smile.

"Hold that thought."

Roberto leaps over the side of the truck and begins to look around the truck.

"Anything?" Mary asks.

"I don’t thi-" His words are cut off as he sees something scurry under the truck out of the corner of his eye. "THERE!"

"What is it?”

"Well it’s not a person." He says with a chuckle. " Let me check it out."

Roberto drops to his knees and moves cautiously closer. He doesn’t see anything. He turns his face upwards to Mary who is looking over the side of the truck.

"Well?" She asks impatiently. "I don’t have my shorts off for nothing."

He smiles.

"Yeah whatever it was is a fast little fucker."

He turns his head again to the ground.

It was so fast he had no time to react.

All he sees is blackness.

And all he hears are the screams of his lovely Mary.



____________________________________



"Another beer Jordan?"

"Fuck yeah man, do you even have to ask""

Jay Talley and Jordan White enjoyed coming out to "The Homestead" practically every night. The beer was usually free because there was always some drunk sap who figured if they got in good with some of the local law enforcement that they’d be able to get out of a free ticket or two. The music was good for the most part, nice pool tables and lets not forget to mention the ladies are easier than a cheerleader on prom night.

Jay returns to the table where Jordan is sitting with four young women. Two blondes, one brunette and a damn sassy redhead.

"Welcome back Jay." Jordan howls. "The ladies here were just telling me about their favorite sexual positions."

"Yeah?" Jay pulls out a smoke as he takes a seat next to a busty blonde with shoulder length hair. "What’s the verdict."

This is when the bar doors slam open.

"PLEASE SOMEBODY!"

Jay and Jordan both stand quickly and look to the door. An attractive young woman is standing in the doorway, hair a mess, feet and legs muddy, tears streaming down her face.

And missing pants.

Jordan moves towards the door first. Jay calls to the bartender.

"Hey Bryan you got a blanket or a towel in the back?"

"Be right back Jay."

"Miss come sit down over here." Jordan puts his arms on her shoulders and leads her to the bar. Both men try their best to cover her from other people’s views. Bryan, the bartender quickly comes back with a small red blanket. Jordan grabs it and hands it over so the young woman can cover herself up.

"What the hell is going on?" Jay questions.

"Dude she’s shaking bad." Jordan says as he turns to Bryan. "Call the station for us, let them know what’s going on."

"What’s your name?" Jay says slowly, trying to gain her attention.

"He … He … It ... I" Was all Mary could force out.

"HEY!" Jordan yells.

Her head jerks causing her eyes to meet Jordan’s.

"What happened miss?"

"I-I think he’s dead."

Jay and Jordan look at each other.

It was going to be a long fucking night.




_________________________________





The phone rang loudly through the station, waking the deputy from her quick nap.

"Fuck." she says to herself before answering the phone.

"Sheriff’s station, this is Deputy Valentine."

"Hey Deputy it’s Bryan from Homestead."

The thought of Bryan was enough to make Valentine sick. That large brute had cause a hell of a lot of trouble since that damn bar of his opened up. Not to mention the fact that he constantly tried asking her out whenever she came to try and break up a fight or handle a dispute.

"Oh god, what is it now""

"Look it’s nothing like that. Some girl just came in here all fucked up. Half naked, shakin‘, and she says she thinks someone is dead. Jay and Jordan are here now but they asked to get the sheriff down here

Vivica Valentine sits up.

"Um " alright Bryan, I’ll be right out there."

Deputy Valentine quickly gets off of her chair and grabs her jacket. She makes her way to the Sheriff’s door and knocks quickly before just walking in anyways.

"What is it Valentine""

"Sheriff Ambrosi, we have a problem."

"Oh?"

"Yeah we should check it out, I’ll fill you in on the way. Jay and Jordan are already there."

Sheriff Ambrosi looks up from a stack of papers on her desk.

"Really? Well let’s move it."




____________________________________




Slowly his eyes flicker open but everything is still fuzzy. His head hurts like hell and his body is weak. His mind is jumbled, memory a bit broken at the moment. He blinks a number of times to attempt to regain his sight to it’s full capacity.

"What the-" his voice is groggy and low. Almost like a growl.

Although his muscles are weak he fights to roll over to his side.

Then it hits him.

"MARY!"

The entire event unfolds in his mind in that moment as if it were happening right then. A million thoughts float in and out of Roberto’s mind.

Where’s Mary?

What the hell happened?

How long has it been?

What was that under the truck?

Of all of these however, one was more important than all of the others.

"Mary." He whispers again.

Roberto struggles to get to his feet, using the side of his truck to get up. It’s painfully obvious to him however that he’ll never be able to stand on his own. Roberto feels around for the handle, his vision still not 100%.

"There we go." He says as he finds the handle and pulls it open.

The interior light comes on causing his eyes to hurt.

"Son of a bitch."

Roberto basically falls into his driver’s seat and maneuvers until he can shut the door.

"Keys … shit where are the-"

A sharp pain runs through his body.

"AHH!" He groans. "What the fuck is that?"

The pain grows stronger as it slams into his head and then makes a trail into his chest. Roberto brings one arm tightly across his chest, brings his head down, and takes his free hand and pounds it to his temple. The pain only grows stronger and stronger as the moments go by.

"AHHH, NO!"

His entire body quivers, his head snaps forward. Blood spurts from his mouth and covers the windshield. He feels the warmth of his own blood running down his chin. The pain doesn’t subside, it only grows. Much like the fear that has now taken over.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

The blood curdling scream was the last thing that will ever be heard from Roberto.

Blood sprays out, covering the entire interior of the truck.




________________________________________





The White SUV rolls to a stop on the wet grass. The engine continues running for a few moments before shutting down but the lights staying on. All four doors swing open and out come Sheriff Ambrosi, Deputy Valentine, and Officers Talley and White. Jordan and Jay are still in their civilian attire, never getting a chance to change after the bar. Vivica looks at the two in disgust.

"Maybe you two should’ve stayed at the bar. I know there were some dumb tramps willing to let you touch them there."

"Hey kiss my ass." Jay snaps back.

"Just because you haven’t gotten laid since the dawn of man." Jordan quips.

"It’s because all men are like you two idiots."

"ENOUGH!" Lia roars without turning to face any of them. "They are fine Valentine. We have more important things to do here than you all arguing."

"Sorry Sheriff." Vivica gives one last look at her two male co-workers before moving to Lia’s side. "What’s the plan?"

"Jay." The Sheriff calls out.

"Yeah""

"The girl said it was around here right?"

"Just up ahead."

"Alright," Sheriff Ambrosi turns. "We’ll split up. Stay in contact through the radios. If we find the guy’s truck we should find him."

"Sheriff"" Jordan asks.

"Yes""

"Do you think she was telling the truth? I mean about what she saw?"

"I don’t know," her voice trails off. "She was pretty shaken."

"Yeah but-"

"Let’s gear up." Ambrosi interrupts.

"Yes Ma’am." All three say in unison.




________________________________________




"Find anything yet?" Valentine’s voice comes crackling across the radio.

"Negative." Jordan replies.

Jordan White takes slow step after slow step through the thick trees, scanning the area with his flashlight and keeping his pistol ready. Strange occurrences and violent actions really didn’t come about in their jurisdiction but something doesn’t feel right to him about this one. However he also can’t shake that "If this is some fucked up Halloween prank" As a matter of fact he can’t shake it so much that he repeats the thought into the radio.

"This better not be some kids pulling a prank for Halloween."

Static-

"I know right?" responds Jay.

Followed by static.

"Guys keep the chatter down unless you find something." The sheriff quickly adds.

He moves on, heading deeper into the woods and further away from his safety net (the SUV). When it’s this late and this dark every shadow can seem like a person, every blow of the wind could be some weirdo moving around. Or some perverted kids having sex.

This thought makes Jordan chuckle to himself. At least if he busted some kids having sex he’d have a shot at seeing something worthwhile.

"I could be fucking that blonde, man."

Then something flashes by in the darkness. Jordan’s muscles tighten as he thrusts his flashlight in the direction of the movement. He takes a deep breath and walks towards what he thought he saw, his hand on the handle of the pistol at his side.

"HEY!" He calls out, hoping to frighten whoever it might be. Or whatever it might be.

WOOSH!

Startled he turns to his right quickly, seeing the movement fly by in the darkness once more, moving some bushes.

"OK COME ON OUT!"

Nothing.

Jordan pulls his pistol from it’s holster, preparing it to fire.

He walks closer.

Closer.

Closer.

He points the weapon.

"I’m not playing."

He tightens his grip, placing his finger on the trigger.

"Come out-"

THE BUSH MOVES!

Something rushes out and scurries past him.

"Fuck!" Jordan shakes his head. "God Damn Rabbit."

"I FOUND IT!"

"FUCK!" Jordan yells, being startled by the sound of Vivica over the radio.

"Found what?" He yells back obviously not happy about being scared.

"The truck." Her voice is low. "Follow the outside trail to the lake, fast."

Something is obviously wrong.

"Be right there." Jordan responds back.

White turns to move back towards the trail.

The pain is immediate and the blood begins to flow like a river. It’s as if numerous razor sharp blades had been driven into his chest. His eyes go wide, almost bulging out of his head. His body twitches as it is lifted into the air.

Jordan looks at his assailant as he dies.

The last sound he hears is the sound of his own skull cracking from the teeth that come ripping into it. Everything goes dark and then his lifeless body is dropped to the ground.

The attacker swiftly moves on.





_________________________________






Valentine approaches the abandoned truck and as soon as she shines her flashlight on the windows a horrible feeling knots up her stomach.

"Tell me that isn’t blood."

But she knows it is. She circles around the front of the truck to the driver’s side, steadies her flashlight and pulls out her gun. Inside her head she counts down from 3.

3

2

1

And the driver’s side door swings open.

Blood is splattered across the windows and soaked into the cushions.

But no body.

Immediately Vivica gets on the radio.

"The truck." Her voice is low. "Follow the outside trail to the lake, fast."

She quickly inspects the inside but nothing too thorough as the amount of blood makes her a tad queasy. The Deputy gets herself together and begins to move her flashlight around the rest of the exterior of the vehicle, looking for clues. She moves the flashlight along the side of the truck’s bed, down to the tires and moves to the back.

"Nothing damaged out here."

The feeling that she’s being watched washes over Valentine. She spins around and lights up the outer portion of the tree line.

Nothing there.

It’s what she doesn’t see. From behind her a shadowy hand reaches up and grasps the edge of the truck followed by a second. The fingers are long and thin, very unusually long in fact. Ever so slowly a hulking form begins to rise up from the truck bed without making any kind of sound. Sheer terror fills Valentine as the sound of a low growl/hiss is whispered from right behind her, almost tickling her neck.

She lifts her weapon, turns and moves backwards.

"FREE-" She tries to scream out.

But its her that freezes.

The hulking figure continues to pull itself out of the truck’s bed and perches itself on the edge of the truck. Vivica hand brings up a shaky flashlight to get a view of what it is she is looking at.

A screeching growl is released, filling the night air.

"What the-"

The figure leaps forward and in an act of reflex Vivica fires off a round that slams into the body of the shadowy figure. Another hiss comes out, a mixture of pain and anger.

Valentine continues to back up and fire off rounds. Each bullet pierces flesh which is followed by the screech of pain and anger. Vivica unloads until there are no bullets left but her attacker doesn’t stop. Instead it slowly stalks her, crawling on the grass like some kind of lizard would do.

Vivica may be in awe, but she’s not stupid and she turns to run. Her legs pump faster than they have ever pumped before. Her heart beats faster than it has ever beat before. She feels fear like she has never felt before.

This thing is in close pursuit as it scurries along the dead leaves and mud. It’s unpleasant growl/hiss ringing in Vivica’s ears making it feel as if her eardrums were on fire. Vivica looks back just in time to see the shadow leap into the air and attach to a tree on the side THEN leap to the next tree and the next and one more before it flies through the air and slams to the ground in front of Vivica! The Deputy screams as she tries to stop but with the ground being wet she falls into the mud on her back.

The figure is on top of her automatically, digging it’s sharp claws into her arms pining her down.

A mixture of blood, sweat, and tears escape Valentine’s body.

"Please God." She says in a shaky voice.

The figure’s face moves down close to Vivica’s perhaps to take in her scent. Perhaps to enjoy her fear.

In the back a much thinner shadow moves upwards.

A Tail.

Then it opens it’s mouth and it’s silvery teeth seem to glow in the darkness and drool drips out of it’s mouth and falls onto Vivica’s face. Something violently bursts out from it’s mouth penetrating Vivica’s skull, Leaving her lifeless.

After it’s recent kill this monster lifts it’s head up and let’s out a demonic howl.

[Aba-DaBa-Tua]

The sound echoes through the night, startling Ambrosi. The Sheriff is known to be tough as nails but this was like nothing she had ever heard before. She reaches down for her radio.

"Does anyone know what the hell that was?"

Just static.

"Vivica?"

Nothing.

"Jordan? Jay?"

Nothing.

"SOMEBODY BETTER FUCKING TALK TO ME!"

A hand comes down on her shoulder.

"Hey."

Afraid she spins around and points her pistol in the face of Jay.

"WHOA! WHOA!" He yells, putting his arms up.

"God Damn it Jay don’t do that." Ambrosi says, settling back down.

"Sorry I didn’t know you’d be all worked up."

"Sorry." She lowers the gun. "You find Viv or Jordan?"

"No…"

"But?"

"I think I found the kid we’re looking for."

…

"Show me."

Lia follows Jay through the woods for awhile until Jay stops right behind a large tree.

"There." he motions his flashlight towards the tree’s base. "I don’t care to see it again."

She goes around the tree and immediately turns to vomit.

"Yeah I already did that." Jay tells her. "What kind of sick fuck would do that?"

Lia stands back up, still obviously shaken only capable of shaking her head to answer. She turns her whole body away from the bloody mess that is left of Roberto. His clothes are soaked in blood, his face twisted in fear and agony.

His chest ripped open.

Jay looks at Lia, Lia looks at Jay. Neither know exactly what to do next.

"Someone’s out here Jay." Lia finally says. "Someone…"

A few feet behind Lia in the darkness comes down the tail from the tree that Roberto’s body is pressed up against. Jay immediately lifts his flashlight to make sure he isn’t seeing shit.

"LIA!"

She turns in time to see the shadows come out and drive into her stomach, coming out of her back. The black tail rips Lia up into the trees, causing the leaves to shake and shiver.

"LIAAAAAA!" Jay screams.

THUMP!

Lia’s bloody and broken body falls at Jay’s feet.

"NOOOOO!"

Jay pulls his gun and begins shooting wildly into the trees with blind hope that he’ll hit something. Although he has no idea what he is up against. When his pistol runs out of ammo he pauses to listen. No sound comes. Nothing but the own pounding of his heartbeat and the erratic breathing.

Then he begins to run.

Over bushes

Through mud

Around trees

By the lake

To the truck

Jay rips the door open and leaps in.

"Thank God!" He proclaims because the keys are in the ignition.

He fires up the engine and puts the truck into drive and hit’s the gas.

THUMP THUMP!

The truck shakes from left to right.

That THING is on the roof.

As he drives Jay swerves left and right.

The creature’s claws dig into the roof as it gets a tight grip.

"NO! Get off!" Jay roars.

The scorpion-like tail slams through the roof and slices his arm causing an unbelievable pain to move through his body.

Jay slams on the brakes causing the SUV to come to a halt and tossing the beast over the top and into the dirt road in front of him.

Jay flips on the lights finally, getting a good look at what it is he faces.

"That’s one ugly mother fucker." he whispers.

It has some humanoid features but it’s not human. It has an elongated ,cylindrical head however no eyes. It’s skin appears hard, at least harder than any human would have and black. A whip-like tail with a sharp tip sways back and forth behind it. It’s long, scaly fingers end with razor like claws.

The creature stands and faces the truck.

Jay revs the engine once.

The creature snarls, showing its silvery rows of teeth and growls back.

Jay hit’s the gas.

The creature leaps forward, whipping it’s tail, slamming it on the hood with enough force to bring the back end off the ground! Jay loses control and the SUV flips on it’s side and then onto it’s roof. Jay fights to crawl out of the shattered window, dragging himself away from the wreckage and hoping he damaged the beast.

It leaps onto the broken down SUV! It’s growl rages through the night sky.

Jay doesn’t move.

No point really is there"

The monster jumps down and crawls to the fallen body of Jay. It reaches down with a clawed hand, wrapping it around his throat. It rises up onto it’s hind legs, bringing Jay up with it.

Jay spits in it’s face.

"You go to hell you son of a bitch!"

The creature’s head cocky sideways.

It’s mouth opens.

A green slime fires out, "spitting" at Jay as he did to it.

Immediately his face begins to burn and directly after that he feels it beginning to melt away. Instead of the beast’s howls filling the night, it is now the screams of Jay, until his face melts to nothing.

The Creature tosses Jay’s limp body to the side.

And one final time hisses into the darkness.




___________________________________________



"Whoa excuse me fellas but this is a crime scene, no one can cross."

"It’s okay, FBI."

The officer inspects the two men’s badges and clears them to cross the police line.

"Who is in charge here?"

"That’d be Detective Jacobs. He’s by the truck down that way."

The two men nodded and headed towards the F-150 the officer had pointed out. Detective Jacobs catches them coming from awhile off.

"May I help you gentlemen?" Kevin asks.

"Yes I’m Agent Rollins and this is Octavian. FBI. " Rollins offers his hand. "What happened here?"

They all shake hands as Jacobs leads them to the truck.

"Fucking weird I can tell you that. Sadly that’s about all I can tell you at this point." He sighs. "But we do have something."

"What would that be"" Octavian asks.

"This way." Jacobs leads them to the driver’s side of the truck and points down to something halfway hidden in the leaves. "Maybe you can tell me what the fuck that is."

A small creature. Eight legs, slimy skin, long tail.

Dead

"Hmmm " this is strange." Rollins begins.

"Who else knows about this?" Octavian asks quickly.

"You’re the first " and the few people I already have here. Too weird to let out yet."

A cell phone rings.

"Pardon me." Rollins says and turns to answer his phone. "Rollins."

"What’s the deal?" The voice on the other side booms.

"It was here sir." Rollins shakes his head. "We were too late."

A long pause.

"Find it Rich. We need it back."

"Will do Steven." He looks at Jacobs quickly. "And the authorities?"

"Handle it."

The phone hangs up. Rollins places it in his pocket. He looks to Octavian and nods.

"Show us what else you’ve found." Octavian demands.

"Sure follow me." Jacobs responds as he turns to lead them away from the truck.

That’s when the two shots are driven into his head.


THE END(?)

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

A BUMP! for Aba-Daba Tua's long-butt Posts. I didn't even notice them til today, srry bout that man-and good job btw. :)

[Aba-DaBa-Tua]

SORRY! Didn't realize it was going to take up so much space!

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Don't apologize, its all cool. :cool:

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

So my (awesome) friend may have just scored me one of the uber-bestest things to happen to me in the world. Apparently he was talking with some really talented artist and got him interested in doing artwork for my novel that I'm currently editing. Obviously nothing's solid yet, including whether my novel will ever even be submitted to be published, but this is just amazing to me. I never fathomed that an artist would ever do illustrations based on landscapes and creatures that I invented! I'm geeking out right now so bad!! :D

Hopefully all goes well, wish me luck-I'll need it! ;)

[Tweek]

So my (awesome) friend may have just scored me one of the uber-bestest things to happen to me in the world. Apparently he was talking with some really talented artist and got him interested in doing artwork for my novel that I'm currently editing. Obviously nothing's solid yet, including whether my novel will ever even be submitted to be published, but this is just amazing to me. I never fathomed that an artist would ever do illustrations based on landscapes and creatures that I invented! I'm geeking out right now so bad!! :D

Hopefully all goes well, wish me luck-I'll need it! ;)

NICE! I hope it works out, g1ngy. :)

[g1ng3rsnap9ed]

Thanks. :) Unfortunately the artist hasn't responded yet so things are starting to look down, but you gotta keep the hope, sista'! :D