SpazKid
04-17-2005, 07:15 PM
Hey schmoes...
I'm still pretty new around here, but I've been lurking around these boards for a loooong time. I've slowly been emerging out of lurkdom.
Anyways, I have had this idea for awhile for a horror story/novel/novella I want to write, and it actually started out as an idea for a movie/screenplay, but since my true roots lie in prose, I've decided to turn the idea into a traditional story.
I've tentatively titled the story "Dead Air", but that is very subject to change. The basic plot is this: On a routine flight from Ohio to California, the passengers and crew learn that the world beneath them has fallen into chaos after a mysterious occurance caused the recently deceased to come back as flesh-eating monsters, able to turn others with nothing more than a deadly bite. What's worse - one of their own is already infected.
Here is the prologue:
The tombstone was a simple creation, mostly consisting of a carefully placed stack of smooth stones found from a nearby quarry and two thick twigs tied together with twine in the shape of a cross. Barry had done that part himself, insisting on making it perfect for dear old Goldie, who had been with the family since before he was born ten years ago.
Barry could remember growing up with Goldie, a beautiful golden retriever who had been his best friend. His parents would sit out on the back porch and watch their small child and man’s best friend laugh and play in the yard for hours. A ragged and torn tennis ball lay nearby the pile of stones. Barry would throw the ball as hard as he possibly could with his tiny arms and Goldie would always bring it back, eagerly wagging her tail, wanting to play some more.
The sun had just barely begun to rise when Barry’s mother quietly came into his bedroom, waking him from a peaceful night’s slumber, to inform him sadly that Goldie had not woken up that morning. Barry knew that Goldie was getting old, and she had gone through some health problems, but he never expected her to die. Not while he was so young and still needed a friend.
His mom told him that Goldie was in a better place now, where she could run around in the fields and play all the time, and that she was happy. She would always be young and healthy, forever. But that wasn’t enough for little Barry. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like now.
His schoolmates never spoke to him during recess, and no one seemed to understand him. No one ever wanted to play the inventive games he always came up with on the playground. The only time he felt comfortable with himself was when he was playing with Goldie.
And now, she was gone. Forever.
Barry morosely picked up the tattered tennis ball as he knelt before the makeshift gravesite. He softly tossed it back and forth between his small hands, and stared down at the low, even grass that surrounded the roughly hewn area that had been dug out of the ground to bury Goldie. His father had patted down the dirt so that it was mostly even with the ground, and Barry had helped him sprinkle fertilizer over the dirt so that grass would eventually begin to grow again.
His father told him that now that Goldie was gone, she would help the Earth regenerate itself, and bring new life to the ground. Barry found that this idea helped him, if only a little. He knew that there was a circle of life, and now, Goldie was a part of that circle. Still, her absence left him feeling cold…
Shivering, Barry realized that the coldness he felt was real.
A shadow had passed over him, blocking out the slight warmth from the sun hanging low in the sky that afternoon. Barry turned and saw his mother standing behind him, and she wiped a tear from her eye.
“You wanna come inside?,” she asked. “I could make you a sandwich.”
Barry turned back to Goldie’s grave, eyes downcast.
“No thanks…,” he murmured. His stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday evening at dinner, and with the news of Goldie’s departure, breakfast had been completely forgotten that morning, what with the desperate need to give the family’s dear friend a proper burial. “I…I’m not hungry…”
His mother crossed her arms. She could tell her son was lying, but she knew that he needed some time to grieve his loss. She silently went back inside, leaving Barry alone once again in the yard.
He sat there, kneeling in the grass, for what felt like a long, long time. He glanced up at the sky and saw that the sun had moved. That afternoon would soon be fading into evening.
And then…something moved.
A sudden flash lit up the sky, only for a few short moments, like the unexpected flash of a camera taking a picture. A strange streak remained across the clouds for a short time, but they, too faded.
Squinting, Barry watched the sky for any more activity.
Nothing seemed to be happening. Everything was silent and still, just like it had been moments ago.
Unsettled, Barry turned his attention back to the ground, and he became transfixed by the man-made crucifix that he, himself, had created in Goldie’s honor. A slight wind whistled through Barry’s ears, tousling his boyishly light blond hair.
There was an odd whimpering sound that caught Barry’s attention, and he looked curiously at Goldie’s grave. Maybe he was hearing things. He was so caught up in his sadness about Goldie dying, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.
“Goldie…?,” he murmured, half-hopeful, half-scared.
To both his amazement – and fear – the dirt that his father had so lovingly packed down after burying their dog, began to stir. Slowly, almost unnoticeably at first. But it quickly became apparent that something was…moving.
“Goldie?,” Barry repeated himself, really scared now.
He began to inch backwards on his knees, moving slowly away from the softly churning soil.
“Mo…Mom…,” Barry whimpered, barely able to make words come out of his quickly tightening throat.
Everything happened so quickly that young Barry didn’t even have time to scream. As a spray of dirt flew into the air, a ragged form appeared from out of the upturned dirt.
The last thing Barry saw were the cold, dead eyes of Goldie as her teeth sank into the soft flesh of his exposed throat.
* * *
The gurney burst through the O.R.’s double doors at lightning speed.
Dr. Engleman approached the barreling gurney, and grabbed the clipboard containing the preliminary information on the patient, and looked over at the nurse who was bringing him in.
“What’ve we got?,” Engleman asked.
“Male, thirty-eight,” the nurse clipped off. “Got in a bar fight. Witnesses say the attacker…bit him.”
Engleman glanced down at the man and saw that there was a large red splotch of blood blossoming on a makeshift bandage over his forearm. It looked as if someone had carved a large chunk of flesh from the appendage with a butcher knife.
“Some bite,” Engleman said appreciatively. They reached their destination where the operation would take place and the nurse put the brakes on the gurney. The man laying there stirred and began to moan slightly.
Engleman looked at the clipboard.
“Mr, uh…Burrows?,” Engleman said, addressing the injured man. “My name is Dr. Engleman, can you hear me?”
Burrows did not respond.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” the nurse explained. “He was out of it the entire way back to the hospital.”
Engleman removed the bandage from Burrows’ arm and winced.
“Jesus,” he murmured. He’d seen a lot in his time in the ER, but sometimes you just weren’t expecting to see so much gore. The flesh had been completely ripped clean from the man’s arm, exposing muscle and tendon and bone. It would take extensive surgery to repair it, and even then, he may never have feeling in his arm again.
All of the nerves had been irreparably severed.
“We’ll need to run some tests,” Engleman said. “Get everything prepped. We’re gonna be here awhile.”
The nurse nodded and began to get to work.
Engleman sighed, and looked over at Burrows face, slack and pale. He didn’t know how right he was.
* * *
End of prologue! Pretty please let me know what you thought of it. I'd like to know from some true horror fans how I'm doing so far. I know this isn't the meat of the story, but it's only the beginning!
Thanks!
I'm still pretty new around here, but I've been lurking around these boards for a loooong time. I've slowly been emerging out of lurkdom.
Anyways, I have had this idea for awhile for a horror story/novel/novella I want to write, and it actually started out as an idea for a movie/screenplay, but since my true roots lie in prose, I've decided to turn the idea into a traditional story.
I've tentatively titled the story "Dead Air", but that is very subject to change. The basic plot is this: On a routine flight from Ohio to California, the passengers and crew learn that the world beneath them has fallen into chaos after a mysterious occurance caused the recently deceased to come back as flesh-eating monsters, able to turn others with nothing more than a deadly bite. What's worse - one of their own is already infected.
Here is the prologue:
The tombstone was a simple creation, mostly consisting of a carefully placed stack of smooth stones found from a nearby quarry and two thick twigs tied together with twine in the shape of a cross. Barry had done that part himself, insisting on making it perfect for dear old Goldie, who had been with the family since before he was born ten years ago.
Barry could remember growing up with Goldie, a beautiful golden retriever who had been his best friend. His parents would sit out on the back porch and watch their small child and man’s best friend laugh and play in the yard for hours. A ragged and torn tennis ball lay nearby the pile of stones. Barry would throw the ball as hard as he possibly could with his tiny arms and Goldie would always bring it back, eagerly wagging her tail, wanting to play some more.
The sun had just barely begun to rise when Barry’s mother quietly came into his bedroom, waking him from a peaceful night’s slumber, to inform him sadly that Goldie had not woken up that morning. Barry knew that Goldie was getting old, and she had gone through some health problems, but he never expected her to die. Not while he was so young and still needed a friend.
His mom told him that Goldie was in a better place now, where she could run around in the fields and play all the time, and that she was happy. She would always be young and healthy, forever. But that wasn’t enough for little Barry. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like now.
His schoolmates never spoke to him during recess, and no one seemed to understand him. No one ever wanted to play the inventive games he always came up with on the playground. The only time he felt comfortable with himself was when he was playing with Goldie.
And now, she was gone. Forever.
Barry morosely picked up the tattered tennis ball as he knelt before the makeshift gravesite. He softly tossed it back and forth between his small hands, and stared down at the low, even grass that surrounded the roughly hewn area that had been dug out of the ground to bury Goldie. His father had patted down the dirt so that it was mostly even with the ground, and Barry had helped him sprinkle fertilizer over the dirt so that grass would eventually begin to grow again.
His father told him that now that Goldie was gone, she would help the Earth regenerate itself, and bring new life to the ground. Barry found that this idea helped him, if only a little. He knew that there was a circle of life, and now, Goldie was a part of that circle. Still, her absence left him feeling cold…
Shivering, Barry realized that the coldness he felt was real.
A shadow had passed over him, blocking out the slight warmth from the sun hanging low in the sky that afternoon. Barry turned and saw his mother standing behind him, and she wiped a tear from her eye.
“You wanna come inside?,” she asked. “I could make you a sandwich.”
Barry turned back to Goldie’s grave, eyes downcast.
“No thanks…,” he murmured. His stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday evening at dinner, and with the news of Goldie’s departure, breakfast had been completely forgotten that morning, what with the desperate need to give the family’s dear friend a proper burial. “I…I’m not hungry…”
His mother crossed her arms. She could tell her son was lying, but she knew that he needed some time to grieve his loss. She silently went back inside, leaving Barry alone once again in the yard.
He sat there, kneeling in the grass, for what felt like a long, long time. He glanced up at the sky and saw that the sun had moved. That afternoon would soon be fading into evening.
And then…something moved.
A sudden flash lit up the sky, only for a few short moments, like the unexpected flash of a camera taking a picture. A strange streak remained across the clouds for a short time, but they, too faded.
Squinting, Barry watched the sky for any more activity.
Nothing seemed to be happening. Everything was silent and still, just like it had been moments ago.
Unsettled, Barry turned his attention back to the ground, and he became transfixed by the man-made crucifix that he, himself, had created in Goldie’s honor. A slight wind whistled through Barry’s ears, tousling his boyishly light blond hair.
There was an odd whimpering sound that caught Barry’s attention, and he looked curiously at Goldie’s grave. Maybe he was hearing things. He was so caught up in his sadness about Goldie dying, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.
“Goldie…?,” he murmured, half-hopeful, half-scared.
To both his amazement – and fear – the dirt that his father had so lovingly packed down after burying their dog, began to stir. Slowly, almost unnoticeably at first. But it quickly became apparent that something was…moving.
“Goldie?,” Barry repeated himself, really scared now.
He began to inch backwards on his knees, moving slowly away from the softly churning soil.
“Mo…Mom…,” Barry whimpered, barely able to make words come out of his quickly tightening throat.
Everything happened so quickly that young Barry didn’t even have time to scream. As a spray of dirt flew into the air, a ragged form appeared from out of the upturned dirt.
The last thing Barry saw were the cold, dead eyes of Goldie as her teeth sank into the soft flesh of his exposed throat.
* * *
The gurney burst through the O.R.’s double doors at lightning speed.
Dr. Engleman approached the barreling gurney, and grabbed the clipboard containing the preliminary information on the patient, and looked over at the nurse who was bringing him in.
“What’ve we got?,” Engleman asked.
“Male, thirty-eight,” the nurse clipped off. “Got in a bar fight. Witnesses say the attacker…bit him.”
Engleman glanced down at the man and saw that there was a large red splotch of blood blossoming on a makeshift bandage over his forearm. It looked as if someone had carved a large chunk of flesh from the appendage with a butcher knife.
“Some bite,” Engleman said appreciatively. They reached their destination where the operation would take place and the nurse put the brakes on the gurney. The man laying there stirred and began to moan slightly.
Engleman looked at the clipboard.
“Mr, uh…Burrows?,” Engleman said, addressing the injured man. “My name is Dr. Engleman, can you hear me?”
Burrows did not respond.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” the nurse explained. “He was out of it the entire way back to the hospital.”
Engleman removed the bandage from Burrows’ arm and winced.
“Jesus,” he murmured. He’d seen a lot in his time in the ER, but sometimes you just weren’t expecting to see so much gore. The flesh had been completely ripped clean from the man’s arm, exposing muscle and tendon and bone. It would take extensive surgery to repair it, and even then, he may never have feeling in his arm again.
All of the nerves had been irreparably severed.
“We’ll need to run some tests,” Engleman said. “Get everything prepped. We’re gonna be here awhile.”
The nurse nodded and began to get to work.
Engleman sighed, and looked over at Burrows face, slack and pale. He didn’t know how right he was.
* * *
End of prologue! Pretty please let me know what you thought of it. I'd like to know from some true horror fans how I'm doing so far. I know this isn't the meat of the story, but it's only the beginning!
Thanks!