You’re running and running,
Nothing but blackness surrounds you.
Drip, drip, drip; you hear their drool falling to the tunnels’ floor behind you.
Stumbling over rocks and broken glass your bare feet leave bloody trails.
The beasts will follow you until the sun, which you still can’t see.
Gargled panting breaths escape the monsters.
They crave you, their favorite treat.
Hopeless, panicked, purposeless meat,
Dripping a trail of blood to their dinner table.
Sharp turns take you by surprise,
Leaving bloody marks on the walls where your face hits so suddenly.
Like flies to a light the bloody walls act as beacons to the creatures.
You can almost feel the heat vision seeking you out.
The floor gives way and you fall to your certain demise.
Icy cold envelopes you stealing your breath,
Cold turns to warmth and thankfulness as you see the sun through the ripples above you.
You start thrashing, you need to feel that heat, the brightness.
Swimming higher and higher you breach the surface,
Staring into the sky gasping for breath confusion penetrates you.
Beside the bright sun is a hole… in the sky.
Like a shattered window the blue sky gives way to the blackness of the tunnel.
Jagged edges tear at the void filled with nightmares,
They hiss and choke scrambling away from the light.
Their melting flesh falling in chunks from the hole,
Splashing all around you.
The sun, the air, the salt water, the rotting corpses,
All so amazing and joyous to your now contented soul.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Story Part 2
Soda looks carefully around the corner, “Man? You okay?”
“I’m fine… look at my shoulder,” I say.
His eyes go wide, “what the hell? Where’d they go?”
That’s what I’d like to know, I think as I stare down slightly at an angle to my now unmarked skin. I close the bathroom door and pick up the pro-wrap and ointment that I had dropped, taking off my chain and binder I hang them on the door behind me. Slipping out of my boxers I step into the shower, the water as hot as it will go feels cold on my back and neck. Burning the skin red everywhere else, I begin to become even more confused. Did I do nerve damage with that gash that ‘was’ there? What the hell happened to it anyway? I saw it there clear as day and so did Soda. So very, very strange, eventually I step out of the shower and dry off. Sore as hell I wrap a towel around me and fall heavy on the couch, “you sure I didn’t hit my head man? It’s killing me,” I asked and stated.
Soda looks over from the computer, “yah, man I’m sure. Your head was fine, or well, as fine as it ever is,” he says while rolling his eyes.
I mumble thanks while flipping him the bird. I pass out into a restless sleep.
I wake up the next day and Soda had gone to work, the power had gone out while I was asleep I assumed because all the clocks were set back. Then I noticed not only were they set back but also continuing to go farther back, I had no idea what time it was but the sky was dark with clouds. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffen, as all of a sudden I’m on guard, nervous. There’s a crash in the laundry room and I run to the kitchen and grab a knife from the drawer. Pulse racing and breathing heavy I inch back toward the living room in the dark. Knife out in front I creep toward the door and stop short when I see that it’s been cracked open. It was closed when I went to the kitchen. Almost blind in fear I smell something; moist rust. Nearly paralyzed in pure terror as the smell registers in my mind as blood I swing around slicing at the air. The tip of the knife catches something and I feel wetness on my hand but see nothing in front of me. Another crash in the laundry room and I noticed the front door is now wide open. I run over and there’s nothing, the screen door is swinging slowly shut at the top of the stairs. I step into the laundry rooms’ pitch-blackness and the light’s all snap back on. I hear a whoosh from the hot water tank as it kicks back to life. Looking around I see large scratches all across the top of the washer and dryer, something had been perched there and it was something big. One step at a time I walk farther into the room when I notice something on the ground. Bending down by the dryer I see that it’s a small droplet of blood and I feel a random pang of sadness and hunger flash over me. Confused for a second I brush it off as nothing, I spot something just under the machine. Shining white I pick it up; a razor edged tooth is in the palm of my hand. Wide eyed, I think back and recall slicing something with my knife and feeling wetness but no blood. It must have been saliva from this beast. All of a sudden I jump up, compelled with an urge to clean off the tooth. Running to the bathroom I run the cold water over the tooth and wash the blood and spit off of it. Moving it around in my hand I feel it’s sharp edges accidentally slicing my finger on the point. Very sharp, I think to myself as I wander back to the futon. Laying down I continue to hold the tooth in my hand tightly pressed to my chest. I drift off into a confusing and terrifying dream.
“I’m fine… look at my shoulder,” I say.
His eyes go wide, “what the hell? Where’d they go?”
That’s what I’d like to know, I think as I stare down slightly at an angle to my now unmarked skin. I close the bathroom door and pick up the pro-wrap and ointment that I had dropped, taking off my chain and binder I hang them on the door behind me. Slipping out of my boxers I step into the shower, the water as hot as it will go feels cold on my back and neck. Burning the skin red everywhere else, I begin to become even more confused. Did I do nerve damage with that gash that ‘was’ there? What the hell happened to it anyway? I saw it there clear as day and so did Soda. So very, very strange, eventually I step out of the shower and dry off. Sore as hell I wrap a towel around me and fall heavy on the couch, “you sure I didn’t hit my head man? It’s killing me,” I asked and stated.
Soda looks over from the computer, “yah, man I’m sure. Your head was fine, or well, as fine as it ever is,” he says while rolling his eyes.
I mumble thanks while flipping him the bird. I pass out into a restless sleep.
I wake up the next day and Soda had gone to work, the power had gone out while I was asleep I assumed because all the clocks were set back. Then I noticed not only were they set back but also continuing to go farther back, I had no idea what time it was but the sky was dark with clouds. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffen, as all of a sudden I’m on guard, nervous. There’s a crash in the laundry room and I run to the kitchen and grab a knife from the drawer. Pulse racing and breathing heavy I inch back toward the living room in the dark. Knife out in front I creep toward the door and stop short when I see that it’s been cracked open. It was closed when I went to the kitchen. Almost blind in fear I smell something; moist rust. Nearly paralyzed in pure terror as the smell registers in my mind as blood I swing around slicing at the air. The tip of the knife catches something and I feel wetness on my hand but see nothing in front of me. Another crash in the laundry room and I noticed the front door is now wide open. I run over and there’s nothing, the screen door is swinging slowly shut at the top of the stairs. I step into the laundry rooms’ pitch-blackness and the light’s all snap back on. I hear a whoosh from the hot water tank as it kicks back to life. Looking around I see large scratches all across the top of the washer and dryer, something had been perched there and it was something big. One step at a time I walk farther into the room when I notice something on the ground. Bending down by the dryer I see that it’s a small droplet of blood and I feel a random pang of sadness and hunger flash over me. Confused for a second I brush it off as nothing, I spot something just under the machine. Shining white I pick it up; a razor edged tooth is in the palm of my hand. Wide eyed, I think back and recall slicing something with my knife and feeling wetness but no blood. It must have been saliva from this beast. All of a sudden I jump up, compelled with an urge to clean off the tooth. Running to the bathroom I run the cold water over the tooth and wash the blood and spit off of it. Moving it around in my hand I feel it’s sharp edges accidentally slicing my finger on the point. Very sharp, I think to myself as I wander back to the futon. Laying down I continue to hold the tooth in my hand tightly pressed to my chest. I drift off into a confusing and terrifying dream.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
New Story Part 1
My heart is racing as the fear pounds through my veins like war drums. Where are you? It’s a horrible night out the negative energy is resonating through the ground. Everything is hiding, there’s no sign of life within ten blocks. My breathing quickens and my hand grasps the knife in my sleeve tighter as I approach the end of the street. Nothing, I look to the left and the right, I look down the street in front of me and still nothing. There’s no sign of you anywhere, I hear a crunch of a single leaf to my back right. Something’s there, I take a careful step to my left, and another, and another. The crunches synchronize with my steps, my heart jumps. I smell something musty and rank, fowl breath and old rain washed mud; like a stray dog. I turn to run as something behind me lunges; I fall.
The blackness lightens to grey and I open my eyes. I’m laying on the futon with my roommate Soda standing over me, “what the hell happened to me?”
“You tell me,” said Soda,
“I get up for work and find you passed out in the front yard bleeding all over the place.”
Bleeding? I try to focus and find the pain that comes with blood; a knife stabs the back of my head. “Oww,” I groan,
“My fucking head is killing me, is it cracked?”
Soda looks at me confused, “no man, your head is fine. I was more concerned with the teeth marks on your shoulder. That’s a nasty gash.”
I look down to see what he’s talking about and once again pain shoots through the back of my head. I gasp at the pain and then again at the enormous jaw shaped bruising around the extensive puncture wounds. “Fuck me sideways,” I yell,
“What the fuck did I do? I don’t remember this happening! The fuckin’ thing doesn’t even hurt!”
My horrified expression worries him even more, “man, are you trying to tell me you can’t feel that?”
“I seriously cannot feel that! Poke it, find out!” I cried.
I demonstrate by jabbing my finger into the wound, “why can’t I bloody well feel that?!”
Wiping the blood or Sodas’ jeans I stand up, “woah! What the fuck boy!” he yells.
“What?” I snap back at him.
“I didn’t even see you stand up and th-then you were there!” the wide-eyed Soda explains.
Very confused at this point I try to walk more slowly to the bathroom so as not to ask him again. Cautiously, I take out the pro-wrap and ointment and turn to the bathroom sink. Filling it up with water I look up into the mirror and gasp, stumbling backward.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Soda yells from the other room.
“F-fine…” I yell back.
Looking into the mirror again I stare at my eyes; bright gold stares back at me rather than my usual green. I glance down at the wound to assess it and my gold eyes go wide. The gaping, gouged wound has all but disappeared. All that’s left of it is a light scar. Everything falls from my hands to the tiled bathroom floor.
The blackness lightens to grey and I open my eyes. I’m laying on the futon with my roommate Soda standing over me, “what the hell happened to me?”
“You tell me,” said Soda,
“I get up for work and find you passed out in the front yard bleeding all over the place.”
Bleeding? I try to focus and find the pain that comes with blood; a knife stabs the back of my head. “Oww,” I groan,
“My fucking head is killing me, is it cracked?”
Soda looks at me confused, “no man, your head is fine. I was more concerned with the teeth marks on your shoulder. That’s a nasty gash.”
I look down to see what he’s talking about and once again pain shoots through the back of my head. I gasp at the pain and then again at the enormous jaw shaped bruising around the extensive puncture wounds. “Fuck me sideways,” I yell,
“What the fuck did I do? I don’t remember this happening! The fuckin’ thing doesn’t even hurt!”
My horrified expression worries him even more, “man, are you trying to tell me you can’t feel that?”
“I seriously cannot feel that! Poke it, find out!” I cried.
I demonstrate by jabbing my finger into the wound, “why can’t I bloody well feel that?!”
Wiping the blood or Sodas’ jeans I stand up, “woah! What the fuck boy!” he yells.
“What?” I snap back at him.
“I didn’t even see you stand up and th-then you were there!” the wide-eyed Soda explains.
Very confused at this point I try to walk more slowly to the bathroom so as not to ask him again. Cautiously, I take out the pro-wrap and ointment and turn to the bathroom sink. Filling it up with water I look up into the mirror and gasp, stumbling backward.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Soda yells from the other room.
“F-fine…” I yell back.
Looking into the mirror again I stare at my eyes; bright gold stares back at me rather than my usual green. I glance down at the wound to assess it and my gold eyes go wide. The gaping, gouged wound has all but disappeared. All that’s left of it is a light scar. Everything falls from my hands to the tiled bathroom floor.
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