[...Posted by Ted H]
Busy week. No SH for you, but heres a little ditty I wrote for That One Night a while ago...it be difficult to explaine how it fits in the story, so I wont even bother...
........................
[John Thomas Smith]
John Thomas Smith, better known as JT to all his friends, was a child prodigy. The boy was smart, plain and simple. He knew everything. He won the national spelling bee and several school awards before his balls even dropped. He even got to skip a grade he was so damn bright. Bullies would try to pick on him for being so smart, because no nerd was safe, but JT always had a way of talking to them that would leave a bully too depressed to try and beat the snot out of JT.
High school came for JT and he excelled even further. Smart, funny, athletic (when he wanted to be), he even looked good. Ladies couldn’t get enough of him and he was popular. Rumor was his cock was over 8 inches and he knew how to use it like a porn star. He was the kind of guy you love to hate, because nothing ever stopped him. The problem with JT though, was that he got bored.
The man turned to drugs and such. Not because he had shady friends or he made a wrong decision, that would be too easy. He did drugs just to shake things up a bit. He was just so amazing that even he began to resent himself. He was flaunting his talents and challenging the powers that be to take him down a notch or two. But instead of this bright story turning bitter like so many after school specials, nothing happened. He didn’t flunk out, he didn’t overdose, nobody close to him died, his parents didn’t find out, nobody overcame him and gave him reason to try anymore, nothing happened. He just kept excelling. The kid was too smart for the drugs to stop him. Fate itself couldn’t compete. Hell, if Jesus himself came down from the sky to fuck with him, JT would find a way to come out on top.
By 18, he was on as much dope as he could afford and was drinking when he wasn’t smoking. He spend nights partying and fucking anyone with a warm and willing hole. It didn’t matter for JT at this point, he could do anything. He graduated at the head of his class and went to some fancy Ivy League school with a full ride scholarship. Hell, everyone still loved him. Should he decide to go into politics, he would have the whole town vote for him, and if he tried a little harder (which wasn’t beyond him) the whole state would love him and make him senator. Give him ten more years, the fucker would be president if he really wanted to. Why stop there though? Was it too much to think he could be president of the world one day? Not for JT. The sky couldn’t even limit him it seemed. First he had to breeze through college, which it was estimated it would take him three years at the very most.
So off to college he went, outside of his hometown for the first time ever, into that wide world that had never heard of him before. The prodigy was now in an environment filled with other asinine prodigies. No longer able to easily stand out in the class, he actually blended in with the crowd. He was no longer the favorite, most popular guy around. Hell, he wasn’t even in the top ten for the class. This sudden shift for JT would not due, so he stopped all of his vices and fucking and dedicated himself to his work. For the first time in a long time, JT was giving it his all just to stand out again. Doing so helped raise his class standing but still, it wasn’t enough to stand alone in the group. Just barely being in the top ten percent wasn’t enough. For JT, it was either all or nothing.
The success and praise that had previously come so easy for JT, was now eluding him despite his best efforts. He was doing better now academically than he had ever done, but it just wasn’t enough to be on top. There was always someone in every class that did better than him, seemingly without even trying. JT was in it 110% and it still wasn’t good enough for his new, impossible standards. Eventually though, he just couldn’t keep up the pace, and started slipping. He fell out of the top ten percent and eventually out of the top twenty. He had burnt out. He had become his worst fear, mortal.
Resolving that his intelligence wasn’t the only thing that made him great, JT committed a 180 on his studies and attempted to regain his previous vices that he had previously abandoned. Unfortunately it was far too late to make any meaningful impact on anyone that was either. There was no longer anything special about JT.
Unable to stand being just another student, John Thomas Smith committed suicide by jumping off the school bridge onto a rocky cliff below. The irony for him there was, far brighter and more talented people had jumped off that bridge long before he ever came along, so even his suicide was nothing special by comparison.
March 27, 2011
March 20, 2011
Safe Haven - Joseph
[...Posted by Ted H]
So, Im trying to fall into a routine of posting an update every sunday night/ Lets see how long this lasts. The rest of the week, I leave in the hands of the other authors...
yeah...
..................................
[Safe Haven - Joseph]
Joseph sipped at his brandy as he watched the sun fall below the horizon. It was an amazing sight and an amazing privilege. He was always the last to see the sun off at night from his office at the pinnacle of the Hub, the only person allowed to see beyond the city walls. The office was almost entirely surrounded by windows, with the exception of the far wall. The ceiling was a half dome of glass extending down to the floor. His desk faced the only true wall and at dusk, he would swivel his leather chair around and watch the sunset.
Such is the life of the man in charge of Safe Haven. Sure, he was technically one of the three people who ran the city, but he was the real driving force that led. One was charged with running the Enforcers, another was in charge of the education and upbringing of the children, but Joseph was the only leader that mattered. He was charged with overseeing the maintenance of the city as well as its true protector, the massive walls. Any laws or rules of the city that are put into action are because of Joseph. He was also the only one who was refined and deserving of his rank as leader. The other two, while respected, were not the the status that Joseph pulled.
Joseph was high class even before the apocalypse happened. He was rich, and he had an ownership claim with most businesses in the city. When the dead started killing, he offered up that city to be purged of all life so that it may become Safe Haven. He called upon his many resources and had the bombs fall and the walls erected while the soldiers held off the ghouls.
Safe Haven is because Joseph deemed it so and everyone who is alive today owe their lives to him. This is the philosophy he holds and is why he does what he wishes with the people. He dreams of a perfect society, ruled by him, with a perfect way of life. Currently they are all rabid, wild beasts that need training. They will learn to go without vice, without needless violence and become perfect, the way he intends. A society that is unparalleled, one that calls him leader, master, second only to God himself.
This notion was rejected by those foolish people at first, as expected, but they lacked the ability and nerve to go against him. Those that threatened the dream were quickly purged and now live out of the outskirts of his city, waiting to die. They may have banded together and make efforts to disrupt his city, but they are merely insects. They are but the remainder of those who will not be privy to the more perfect world and they shall die as such.
Those that remained in the city soon grew docile over, and eventually accepting to his dream. Now they no longer fight, though they’re still not anywhere close to the perfection Joseph envisions. It is progress however, albeit slow, but progress nevertheless. His perfect society was coming.
Joseph closed his eyes and drained the remainder of his glass. The sun was gone, meaning it was another day closer to his dream.
So, Im trying to fall into a routine of posting an update every sunday night/ Lets see how long this lasts. The rest of the week, I leave in the hands of the other authors...
yeah...
..................................
[Safe Haven - Joseph]
Joseph sipped at his brandy as he watched the sun fall below the horizon. It was an amazing sight and an amazing privilege. He was always the last to see the sun off at night from his office at the pinnacle of the Hub, the only person allowed to see beyond the city walls. The office was almost entirely surrounded by windows, with the exception of the far wall. The ceiling was a half dome of glass extending down to the floor. His desk faced the only true wall and at dusk, he would swivel his leather chair around and watch the sunset.
Such is the life of the man in charge of Safe Haven. Sure, he was technically one of the three people who ran the city, but he was the real driving force that led. One was charged with running the Enforcers, another was in charge of the education and upbringing of the children, but Joseph was the only leader that mattered. He was charged with overseeing the maintenance of the city as well as its true protector, the massive walls. Any laws or rules of the city that are put into action are because of Joseph. He was also the only one who was refined and deserving of his rank as leader. The other two, while respected, were not the the status that Joseph pulled.
Joseph was high class even before the apocalypse happened. He was rich, and he had an ownership claim with most businesses in the city. When the dead started killing, he offered up that city to be purged of all life so that it may become Safe Haven. He called upon his many resources and had the bombs fall and the walls erected while the soldiers held off the ghouls.
Safe Haven is because Joseph deemed it so and everyone who is alive today owe their lives to him. This is the philosophy he holds and is why he does what he wishes with the people. He dreams of a perfect society, ruled by him, with a perfect way of life. Currently they are all rabid, wild beasts that need training. They will learn to go without vice, without needless violence and become perfect, the way he intends. A society that is unparalleled, one that calls him leader, master, second only to God himself.
This notion was rejected by those foolish people at first, as expected, but they lacked the ability and nerve to go against him. Those that threatened the dream were quickly purged and now live out of the outskirts of his city, waiting to die. They may have banded together and make efforts to disrupt his city, but they are merely insects. They are but the remainder of those who will not be privy to the more perfect world and they shall die as such.
Those that remained in the city soon grew docile over, and eventually accepting to his dream. Now they no longer fight, though they’re still not anywhere close to the perfection Joseph envisions. It is progress however, albeit slow, but progress nevertheless. His perfect society was coming.
Joseph closed his eyes and drained the remainder of his glass. The sun was gone, meaning it was another day closer to his dream.
March 14, 2011
The Man in the Alley
[...posted by Ted H]
Busy much?
We need to fire up a facebook group or somethin...
..................
It was so cold, Mick could actually feel his lungs burning. He didn’t have long to ponder the impossibility of that idea before he saw two people walking down the alley, a man and a woman. “Show time,” he said as he pulled his gun and appeared from behind a dumpster. He stood before the couple and casually aimed.
“You know the drill,” he said “Wallet, jewels, anything valuable. And spare me the pleading and small talk, I’ve heard it all before and I still want your shit.” The woman started whimpering and the man tensed up like he was about to try something. “Don’t,” Mick said preemptively “Cuz then I will shoot. And then out of spite I’ll rape your little girlfriend.”
“Stephen,” the woman pleaded as she removed a diamond ring and placed it in her purse, then dropped it to the ground. The man fished out his wallet and tossed it down as well. “Now get the fuck out of her before I change my mind about the rape,” Mick said as the two took off running. He then gathered the items and walked back over to the alleyway where he and his friends agreed to meet at.
Tony and Ricky were already there, going through the items they had robbed people of. “Will you marry me?” Mick asked Tony with a smile as he held up the diamond ring. “Real funny,” Tony said as he grabbed the ring and looked at it. “This shit real?” Mick walked over to a box and sat on it. “Should be,” he said “People I took it from looked loaded. Can’t see why the ring would be fake.”
“I dunno,” Ricky broke in “Lotta people walking around today trying to look richer then ‘ey are. Wouldn’t surprise me to buy some Cracka Jacks and find that very ring.” Tony shrugged “Looks real to me.” Mick nodded. “What do any of ‘yas know?” Ricky said “I know a guy. I’ll have em look at it tomorrow.”
“Never mind that, we got company,” Tony said as a figure walked down the alley towards them. All three instinctively put their hands on their weapons, but kept them concealed. “You lost?” Tony asked. The figure shook his head. He wore a dark grey trench coat and had shaggy dark hair that concealed his eyes. He kept his head low with both arms hanging at his sides. He didn’t seem dangerous, but no one was taking any chances“Lookin for someone?” Ricky called out. The figure smiled as he extended his arm and pointed right at Mick.
Mick’s blood ran cold. Something about this man was off, but he didn’t know what. He immediately aimed his gun at the man anyway, Ricky and Tony followed suit. “Get out of here, buddy, before we make you regret it,” Tony said. The man ignored him and kept walking, ignoring the guns and all the while making a path for Mick. “Didn’t you hear me? Get the fuck out of here!” The man continued to ignore Tony.
Mick couldn’t take it anymore. “Waste him!” he shouted and all three fired into the man’s chest. He immediately fell over and didn’t move. Tony sighed and laughed “Well that was fucked up, wasn’t it?” he asked. “Something wasn’t right,” Mick said as he lowered his gun, but kept it in his hand. “You’re telling me. That guy gave me the creeps,” Tony said as he walked towards the man’s body.
“We gotta split!” Ricky called “Cops probably heard us! I ain’t goin back to jail.” Ricky started walking away. “Would you just relax for a minute?” Tony yelled as he started checking the man’s pockets. “Screw you!” I’m getting the car, ‘ll bring it around. Wait here for me,” Ricky yelled and left.
“What did he want with me?” Mick asked. “Haven’t the slightest clue, Mick. This schmuck don’t even got ID. Check this out though,” Tony said as he pulled a large curved knife from the man. “Wonder what kind of damage you can do with this?” he asked, then went to get up as the man grabbed his wrist and pulled him down.
“Would you like to find out?” he asked as he took back his knife and punched Tony in the nose, causing him to fly off and onto the ground. In the blink of an eye, the man was up and pulling Tony into the air by his collar. “What?……Who are you?” he screamed as the man plunged his knife into Tony’s stomach. “Something far too powerful to trifle with,” the man said. Tony kept coughing up blood and convulsing as the man pulled the knife strait up through Tony’s chest and head, through every bone and organ as easily as if there was nothing at all obstructing the knifes path.
The man dropped Tony’s remains and stared down at Mick, who couldn’t bring himself to run. He weakly raised his gun again. “We both know that wont do anything,” the man said with a smile. Mick tried anyway, but the bullet flew wide, embedding into the brick wall behind. Before Mick could try again, the man extended his hands forward and Mick felt an invisible force knock him backwards and into a wall.
He was then pulled from the wall and suspended in the air by that same force, arms and legs outstretched as far as they could go. “What do you want with me?” he screamed, unable to move. The man smiled again. Mick didn’t believe in God, but he was willing to give it a try if a miracle could save him now. Instead he got Ricky, which was just as good at the moment. The man turned his head when he heard tire squeals and saw a sedan barrel its way down the alley. There wasn’t much room or time to get out of the way, but the man made no effort to escape.
The car smashed into the man, but the man didn’t budge. The car wrecked into him like he were a brick wall and it actually bounced backwards afterwards. Ricky made no sign of life from the drivers seat of the totaled vehicle. “What the fuck are you?” Mick stammered out as the man lightly dusted himself off, but was otherwise unharmed.
Mick had remained suspended and helpless in the air as the man had ignored his question and was ready to pick up where he left off. “Now then,” he said “This is going to hurt like hell, but only for a moment…Then it gets a lot worse.”
The police never did hear the gunshots from before, but everyone within ten blocks heard Mick’s final, agonizing screams.
Busy much?
We need to fire up a facebook group or somethin...
..................
It was so cold, Mick could actually feel his lungs burning. He didn’t have long to ponder the impossibility of that idea before he saw two people walking down the alley, a man and a woman. “Show time,” he said as he pulled his gun and appeared from behind a dumpster. He stood before the couple and casually aimed.
“You know the drill,” he said “Wallet, jewels, anything valuable. And spare me the pleading and small talk, I’ve heard it all before and I still want your shit.” The woman started whimpering and the man tensed up like he was about to try something. “Don’t,” Mick said preemptively “Cuz then I will shoot. And then out of spite I’ll rape your little girlfriend.”
“Stephen,” the woman pleaded as she removed a diamond ring and placed it in her purse, then dropped it to the ground. The man fished out his wallet and tossed it down as well. “Now get the fuck out of her before I change my mind about the rape,” Mick said as the two took off running. He then gathered the items and walked back over to the alleyway where he and his friends agreed to meet at.
Tony and Ricky were already there, going through the items they had robbed people of. “Will you marry me?” Mick asked Tony with a smile as he held up the diamond ring. “Real funny,” Tony said as he grabbed the ring and looked at it. “This shit real?” Mick walked over to a box and sat on it. “Should be,” he said “People I took it from looked loaded. Can’t see why the ring would be fake.”
“I dunno,” Ricky broke in “Lotta people walking around today trying to look richer then ‘ey are. Wouldn’t surprise me to buy some Cracka Jacks and find that very ring.” Tony shrugged “Looks real to me.” Mick nodded. “What do any of ‘yas know?” Ricky said “I know a guy. I’ll have em look at it tomorrow.”
“Never mind that, we got company,” Tony said as a figure walked down the alley towards them. All three instinctively put their hands on their weapons, but kept them concealed. “You lost?” Tony asked. The figure shook his head. He wore a dark grey trench coat and had shaggy dark hair that concealed his eyes. He kept his head low with both arms hanging at his sides. He didn’t seem dangerous, but no one was taking any chances“Lookin for someone?” Ricky called out. The figure smiled as he extended his arm and pointed right at Mick.
Mick’s blood ran cold. Something about this man was off, but he didn’t know what. He immediately aimed his gun at the man anyway, Ricky and Tony followed suit. “Get out of here, buddy, before we make you regret it,” Tony said. The man ignored him and kept walking, ignoring the guns and all the while making a path for Mick. “Didn’t you hear me? Get the fuck out of here!” The man continued to ignore Tony.
Mick couldn’t take it anymore. “Waste him!” he shouted and all three fired into the man’s chest. He immediately fell over and didn’t move. Tony sighed and laughed “Well that was fucked up, wasn’t it?” he asked. “Something wasn’t right,” Mick said as he lowered his gun, but kept it in his hand. “You’re telling me. That guy gave me the creeps,” Tony said as he walked towards the man’s body.
“We gotta split!” Ricky called “Cops probably heard us! I ain’t goin back to jail.” Ricky started walking away. “Would you just relax for a minute?” Tony yelled as he started checking the man’s pockets. “Screw you!” I’m getting the car, ‘ll bring it around. Wait here for me,” Ricky yelled and left.
“What did he want with me?” Mick asked. “Haven’t the slightest clue, Mick. This schmuck don’t even got ID. Check this out though,” Tony said as he pulled a large curved knife from the man. “Wonder what kind of damage you can do with this?” he asked, then went to get up as the man grabbed his wrist and pulled him down.
“Would you like to find out?” he asked as he took back his knife and punched Tony in the nose, causing him to fly off and onto the ground. In the blink of an eye, the man was up and pulling Tony into the air by his collar. “What?……Who are you?” he screamed as the man plunged his knife into Tony’s stomach. “Something far too powerful to trifle with,” the man said. Tony kept coughing up blood and convulsing as the man pulled the knife strait up through Tony’s chest and head, through every bone and organ as easily as if there was nothing at all obstructing the knifes path.
The man dropped Tony’s remains and stared down at Mick, who couldn’t bring himself to run. He weakly raised his gun again. “We both know that wont do anything,” the man said with a smile. Mick tried anyway, but the bullet flew wide, embedding into the brick wall behind. Before Mick could try again, the man extended his hands forward and Mick felt an invisible force knock him backwards and into a wall.
He was then pulled from the wall and suspended in the air by that same force, arms and legs outstretched as far as they could go. “What do you want with me?” he screamed, unable to move. The man smiled again. Mick didn’t believe in God, but he was willing to give it a try if a miracle could save him now. Instead he got Ricky, which was just as good at the moment. The man turned his head when he heard tire squeals and saw a sedan barrel its way down the alley. There wasn’t much room or time to get out of the way, but the man made no effort to escape.
The car smashed into the man, but the man didn’t budge. The car wrecked into him like he were a brick wall and it actually bounced backwards afterwards. Ricky made no sign of life from the drivers seat of the totaled vehicle. “What the fuck are you?” Mick stammered out as the man lightly dusted himself off, but was otherwise unharmed.
Mick had remained suspended and helpless in the air as the man had ignored his question and was ready to pick up where he left off. “Now then,” he said “This is going to hurt like hell, but only for a moment…Then it gets a lot worse.”
The police never did hear the gunshots from before, but everyone within ten blocks heard Mick’s final, agonizing screams.
March 9, 2011
On a Cold Winter's Night
[Posted by Will]
Here I sing of tales of old,
Where my story must be told.
Of when I lived on the country side,
An’ there it was I lost my bride.
…On a cold winter’s night…
It but started years ago,
Where my Bride an’ I were eight years old,
When she moved to the country side
An’ my love for her ‘came three miles wide,
I remember… On a cold winter’s night…
I loved her so,
An’ we were wed but thirty years ago.
I love her still even though I lost her,
An’ no comfort numbs the pain I foster.
I remember, still… On a cold winter’s night…
The hour was late when she fell ill, thirty years ago.
Winter came, the snow had fell an’ the doctor dare not go.
I lost my Bride, my love that night so many years ago.
I buried her out in the snow that night so many years ago.
‘Twas a night like tonight… a cold winter’s night…
Now, I lie here broken hearted,
Of the loss of my dear departed
An’ now the hour is late I fear,
For my times end is near for my dear Bride is here,
To take me home tonight… On a cold winter’s night…
Here I sing of tales of old,
Where my story must be told.
Of when I lived on the country side,
An’ there it was I lost my bride.
…On a cold winter’s night…
It but started years ago,
Where my Bride an’ I were eight years old,
When she moved to the country side
An’ my love for her ‘came three miles wide,
I remember… On a cold winter’s night…
I loved her so,
An’ we were wed but thirty years ago.
I love her still even though I lost her,
An’ no comfort numbs the pain I foster.
I remember, still… On a cold winter’s night…
The hour was late when she fell ill, thirty years ago.
Winter came, the snow had fell an’ the doctor dare not go.
I lost my Bride, my love that night so many years ago.
I buried her out in the snow that night so many years ago.
‘Twas a night like tonight… a cold winter’s night…
Now, I lie here broken hearted,
Of the loss of my dear departed
An’ now the hour is late I fear,
For my times end is near for my dear Bride is here,
To take me home tonight… On a cold winter’s night…
March 7, 2011
Safe Haven - After Curfew
[...posted by Ted H]
Crisis averted! Now back to your (non)regularly scheduled programming...
...................
[Safe Haven - After Curfew]
She had tripped. Cayra couldn’t believe it, but she didn’t have time to scorn herself. On her way down from the office building, she had tripped down the stairs and tumbled down the last flight. She wasn’t hurt bad in any way, but she had limp a while until the pain in her calf subsided. Between that and the few moments it took her to get her wits back about her and the slow speed she forced herself to travel, she definitely wasn’t going to be home before curfew. It wasn’t the end of the world, she’s been out after curfew before, she just had to be quick and hope some ResEs were late getting out themselves.
It never helped that people lock their doors tight at curfew either. Be it zombie or ResE, you were only inviting trouble if your door wasn’t locked at night. Besides, where she lived, the norm was that if you didn’t arrive home at curfew, then everyone assumes you’re dead and someone else gets your bed.
She stuck close to a nearby building she knew had a side alley. Her leg still hurt, but she was able to crouch low as she approached the end of the road near the building. She peered around to see a couple ResEs walking right for her. “Crap,” she thought as she slowly backtracked. She had to be quick but not loud as she made for the side alley she passed before.
She could hear their voices as they neared the corner. Cayra started to panic as she tiptoed her way into the alley, entering just as the men turned the corner. She crept her way to some nearby debris and kneeled down behind it. She peeked out and watched the two men walk into view.
They stopped right in the entry to the alley and Cayra prayed they wouldn’t walk down it. They were discussing something between them but showed no signs of walking anymore. The one man, tall and dark with a bandana on his head, kept talking loud and aggressive while the other one, white with messy and unkempt hair, wasn’t as loud and Cayra couldn’t hear him but he seemed to only rile the other man up.
The one guy finally spoke up and Cayra listened in on their discussion, since she wasn’t able to go anywhere anyway.
“Fucker needs another ass kicking is what he needs,” the dark one shouted.
“You’ve done that before, Mean,” the other guy said.
“Well its high time I did it again.”
“You really get your jollies from beating down a cripple?”
“Someone’s gotta do it before he gets too smug. Fucker needs an attitude adjustment.”
“What are you, John Cena?”
“Who?”
“Never mind. Look, you wanna feel like a big man? Beat on someone who can fucking walk, otherwise you make us both look like assholes.”
“Whatever, I’m fuckin beat. Let’s chill a while.”
“We’ve been out here ten minutes…”
“Yeah, and I’m tired.”
“…Drunk bastard.”
They walked out of view, but it was clear that those two weren’t going far, so Cayra would have to continue down the alley and hope there were no ResEs on the other side. The two men continued talking about beating down on a cripple so she didn’t have to worry about them as long as she stayed quiet. They didn’t sound too interested in doing their job, but Cayra didn’t want to tempt fate. Slowly, she made her way to the other side.
The coast was clear on the other end, but it was also wide open. The direction she needed to go didn’t have many buildings to hide behind. Her best bet was to cross the street and pass through a building that was partially crumbled. She softly jogged across the street, each step sounding a light echo down the street, which normally wouldn’t be a problem but it was dead quiet right now, making those echoes all the more audible. Upon reaching the building, Cayra checked behind her quickly to make sure there weren’t anyone approaching, then cut through the ruins.
Only a few more blocks after this, but those offered relatively safe hiding places she could use. She reached the other side of the building and peered out into the street. It was another wide open area, but once she crossed, her journey would become much less perilous. It seemed clear, but her nerves were on edge, something wasn’t right. She stayed put and checked around again to make sure. Not a movement, but that didn’t help her nerves. She thought about going back and trying another, longer path, but those two ResEs from before might still be around and there was no telling if they might catch her this time. She had to risk it now.
Cayra checked one more time and noticed no change in the scenery. “One…two…” she breathed, then ran out into the street. Halfway across and still no change. Upon reaching the sidewalk, she thought she heard the sound of loose gravel being kicked but she didn’t dare stop to look until she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head. Someone had struck her. She collapsed to the ground right at the entrance to a boarding house. Inside, people peered through the windows, helpless to help her as a ResE stood over her now.
“What have we here?” he asked as his partner approached, rifle aimed. Cayra rolled over to see the ResE as he shouldered the rifle he had hit her with. “See?” his partner said “I told you she’d come out on this side.” The other nodded. Cayra held the back of her head and turned to face the ground again. She was as good as dead.
Crisis averted! Now back to your (non)regularly scheduled programming...
...................
[Safe Haven - After Curfew]
She had tripped. Cayra couldn’t believe it, but she didn’t have time to scorn herself. On her way down from the office building, she had tripped down the stairs and tumbled down the last flight. She wasn’t hurt bad in any way, but she had limp a while until the pain in her calf subsided. Between that and the few moments it took her to get her wits back about her and the slow speed she forced herself to travel, she definitely wasn’t going to be home before curfew. It wasn’t the end of the world, she’s been out after curfew before, she just had to be quick and hope some ResEs were late getting out themselves.
It never helped that people lock their doors tight at curfew either. Be it zombie or ResE, you were only inviting trouble if your door wasn’t locked at night. Besides, where she lived, the norm was that if you didn’t arrive home at curfew, then everyone assumes you’re dead and someone else gets your bed.
She stuck close to a nearby building she knew had a side alley. Her leg still hurt, but she was able to crouch low as she approached the end of the road near the building. She peered around to see a couple ResEs walking right for her. “Crap,” she thought as she slowly backtracked. She had to be quick but not loud as she made for the side alley she passed before.
She could hear their voices as they neared the corner. Cayra started to panic as she tiptoed her way into the alley, entering just as the men turned the corner. She crept her way to some nearby debris and kneeled down behind it. She peeked out and watched the two men walk into view.
They stopped right in the entry to the alley and Cayra prayed they wouldn’t walk down it. They were discussing something between them but showed no signs of walking anymore. The one man, tall and dark with a bandana on his head, kept talking loud and aggressive while the other one, white with messy and unkempt hair, wasn’t as loud and Cayra couldn’t hear him but he seemed to only rile the other man up.
The one guy finally spoke up and Cayra listened in on their discussion, since she wasn’t able to go anywhere anyway.
“Fucker needs another ass kicking is what he needs,” the dark one shouted.
“You’ve done that before, Mean,” the other guy said.
“Well its high time I did it again.”
“You really get your jollies from beating down a cripple?”
“Someone’s gotta do it before he gets too smug. Fucker needs an attitude adjustment.”
“What are you, John Cena?”
“Who?”
“Never mind. Look, you wanna feel like a big man? Beat on someone who can fucking walk, otherwise you make us both look like assholes.”
“Whatever, I’m fuckin beat. Let’s chill a while.”
“We’ve been out here ten minutes…”
“Yeah, and I’m tired.”
“…Drunk bastard.”
They walked out of view, but it was clear that those two weren’t going far, so Cayra would have to continue down the alley and hope there were no ResEs on the other side. The two men continued talking about beating down on a cripple so she didn’t have to worry about them as long as she stayed quiet. They didn’t sound too interested in doing their job, but Cayra didn’t want to tempt fate. Slowly, she made her way to the other side.
The coast was clear on the other end, but it was also wide open. The direction she needed to go didn’t have many buildings to hide behind. Her best bet was to cross the street and pass through a building that was partially crumbled. She softly jogged across the street, each step sounding a light echo down the street, which normally wouldn’t be a problem but it was dead quiet right now, making those echoes all the more audible. Upon reaching the building, Cayra checked behind her quickly to make sure there weren’t anyone approaching, then cut through the ruins.
Only a few more blocks after this, but those offered relatively safe hiding places she could use. She reached the other side of the building and peered out into the street. It was another wide open area, but once she crossed, her journey would become much less perilous. It seemed clear, but her nerves were on edge, something wasn’t right. She stayed put and checked around again to make sure. Not a movement, but that didn’t help her nerves. She thought about going back and trying another, longer path, but those two ResEs from before might still be around and there was no telling if they might catch her this time. She had to risk it now.
Cayra checked one more time and noticed no change in the scenery. “One…two…” she breathed, then ran out into the street. Halfway across and still no change. Upon reaching the sidewalk, she thought she heard the sound of loose gravel being kicked but she didn’t dare stop to look until she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head. Someone had struck her. She collapsed to the ground right at the entrance to a boarding house. Inside, people peered through the windows, helpless to help her as a ResE stood over her now.
“What have we here?” he asked as his partner approached, rifle aimed. Cayra rolled over to see the ResE as he shouldered the rifle he had hit her with. “See?” his partner said “I told you she’d come out on this side.” The other nodded. Cayra held the back of her head and turned to face the ground again. She was as good as dead.
March 4, 2011
[Posted by Allie]
I've been slacking, I know. I'm sorry. I have actually been writing something amazing, but I'm not ready to stop and share bits of it yet. This is something I started and planned to finish during NaNoWriMo, but I lost my muse. Maybe it'll come back, who knows.
*************************************************************
Dear son,
"What are you thinking, Tristan, you don't call him son." He marked out the line.
Hey kid,
Still unsatisfied, he marked out the line again. He finally decided to keep it simple.
Trevor,
This isn't easy for me to write, but my time is up. I can't live with the embarrassment, the people laughing because someone my age can't walk on his own. It can't be good for you either. So, I must end it. I want you to grow up and be a good kid. Your grandmother can guide you as best as she can, so be sure to listen to her. Don't give her any grief; I did enough of that before, and even after, you were born. Don't bother missing me; I know no one else will. Just live your life.
Dad.
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my face with both hands. I had wanted to wait until my son was eighteen and out of on his own, but I couldn't take the humiliation anymore. A man of my stature walking around with a cane, or doing something as close to walking as possible, in this town got you mocked and ridiculed by everyone around. After so many years, it gets old and starts to hurt the soul. I figured an end would bring peace to everyone. No one would laugh at me or my son and no one would feel sorry for my mother anymore. They wouldn't have to worry about my anger or keeping up with my medications. Life would just be easier for everyone without me.
The letter to Trevor was written, but I wasn't quite ready yet. I wanted to smoke one last joint and die peacefully. After the high had set in, I'd take the pills from the table next to me by the handful, and it'd all be over.
I walked to the bed, checked my cell phone, knowing I had missed no calls or texts, placed my earphones in their respective ears, and laid down, ready to drown in music for the next hour or two. Marijuana always made me relax enough to remember my past, and tonight was no different. Except that, this time, my memories started from the beginning and I saw my life pass before my eyes.
*****
Chapter 1
My memories always start around the time I was twelve. That's when life started to go to Hell. I was always bullied in middle school for being a bookworm and a bigger kid. I kept to myself, trying to avoid any contact with anyone so as to avoid fights. I had spent my entire school career doing just that. Though, some bullies didn't like it when their victim was quiet, so coming home bruised up every few months was expected. Dad taught me how to fight, but I chose not to fight back most times. That changed the day I found out that he had died.
Something in me snapped that day. I didn't find out about the car accident that took his life until I got home from school that day. Mom said she didn't want to stress me out at school. I took the news silently, went upstairs to my room, put on my headphones, and drowned my pain with rock guitar music. I felt the anger fester up inside me. I was angry at God, at my mother, and most of all, at Dad, for leaving me alone in the world. Sure, he had been a hard ass, but he was my dad. He taught me everything I knew, from manners to sarcasm to how to beat someone with soap and a sock. How could he leave me?
The day of the funeral was filled with arguing. Mom was knit picking everything I did.
"Tristan, just wear the suit."
"No."
"I spent hard earned money on that, boy. You will wear it."
"You can go get your money back! Dad wouldn't care if I wore a suit or if I wore my jeans and a t-shirt."
"Well, he's not here. We need to be dressed nicely to represent our family. He wouldn't want you to make his family look bad, would you?"
"I don't care. I don't even want to go anyway."
I went, but I didn't wear the suit. No one noticed, anyway.
I went back to school the next day. On my way to the restroom, a kid a grade level above me stopped me. He said he'd kick my ass just because he could. He rared back to hit me and was surprised when I punched him in the gut. When he doubled over in pain, I landed five good punches to his face and head. He was surprised, but I hadn't hurt him enough to fully stop him. When he caught his breath, he punched me right in the nose. I wiped away the blood and pulled out a pocket knife.
"Touch me one more fucking time, and I'll slit your fucking throat," I warned.
He left me alone, but a teacher had heard the ruckus and came to check it out. Needless to say, I was kicked out of school for having the knife, let alone trying to use it.
Mom put me in every school nearby. We even moved so she could find more schools. I got kicked out of everyone after being suspended too many times. I stayed so angry that whenever anyone looked at me the wrong way, I snapped and would hit them. I heard whispers about me in hallways, and would beat the shit out of the person who started the rumors after threatening those who were spreading them. Principals and counselors always told Mom to send me to a therapist and to anger management courses. I would go, sure, but I would clam up. No one could get a word out of me so they couldn't get inside my head. Mom gave up on trying to get "fixed" when I was fifteen. I was expelled for skipping classes to smoke pot in the bathroom. It was two weeks until my sixteenth birthday so Mom said I could just get a head start on dropping out, since she knew I was going to anyways.
I spent a week straight at the houses' of family and friends. Mom was starting to become dependent on alcohol and I couldn't take her drunken rages on top of the rage I felt. My cousin Harry's house was my favorite place to go. His mom didn't care if we drank and smoked. In fact, she was the person who gave me my first joint the day after my dad died. She said it would calm me down. And it did, but never enough.
Harry and I would hang out in his Dad's garage and tinker on an old fixer upper that was Harry's eighteenth birthday present. We would turn up the radio and work, just the two of us, enjoying the music and each other's silence. I stayed there for a week straight before going home. The stays eventually got longer, though, as Mom had a new boyfriend who liked to drink just as much as she did. He'd get pissed off at me for being there and would always try to start a fight with me. Instead of dealing with that, I'd just stay away and let them pickle their livers.
Eventually, Mom's new boyfriend's newness wore off and he started showing his true colors; he was an angry drunk. I took up for her in the beginning, taking his focus off of her so he'd fight me, instead. After a while, I gave up, because Mom never kicked him out. She stood by and watched me take the fall for her over and over and never once told the jackass to get off me. After a few months of it, I decided to move out. Mom didn't seem to give a shit about her own flesh and blood, and neither did Harry, who was moving away to work in a steel factory in Alabama. He had friends there who put in a good word for him and he got in pretty easily.
They were leaving me alone, just like Dad had done.
I've been slacking, I know. I'm sorry. I have actually been writing something amazing, but I'm not ready to stop and share bits of it yet. This is something I started and planned to finish during NaNoWriMo, but I lost my muse. Maybe it'll come back, who knows.
*************************************************************
Dear son,
"What are you thinking, Tristan, you don't call him son." He marked out the line.
Hey kid,
Still unsatisfied, he marked out the line again. He finally decided to keep it simple.
Trevor,
This isn't easy for me to write, but my time is up. I can't live with the embarrassment, the people laughing because someone my age can't walk on his own. It can't be good for you either. So, I must end it. I want you to grow up and be a good kid. Your grandmother can guide you as best as she can, so be sure to listen to her. Don't give her any grief; I did enough of that before, and even after, you were born. Don't bother missing me; I know no one else will. Just live your life.
Dad.
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my face with both hands. I had wanted to wait until my son was eighteen and out of on his own, but I couldn't take the humiliation anymore. A man of my stature walking around with a cane, or doing something as close to walking as possible, in this town got you mocked and ridiculed by everyone around. After so many years, it gets old and starts to hurt the soul. I figured an end would bring peace to everyone. No one would laugh at me or my son and no one would feel sorry for my mother anymore. They wouldn't have to worry about my anger or keeping up with my medications. Life would just be easier for everyone without me.
The letter to Trevor was written, but I wasn't quite ready yet. I wanted to smoke one last joint and die peacefully. After the high had set in, I'd take the pills from the table next to me by the handful, and it'd all be over.
I walked to the bed, checked my cell phone, knowing I had missed no calls or texts, placed my earphones in their respective ears, and laid down, ready to drown in music for the next hour or two. Marijuana always made me relax enough to remember my past, and tonight was no different. Except that, this time, my memories started from the beginning and I saw my life pass before my eyes.
*****
Chapter 1
My memories always start around the time I was twelve. That's when life started to go to Hell. I was always bullied in middle school for being a bookworm and a bigger kid. I kept to myself, trying to avoid any contact with anyone so as to avoid fights. I had spent my entire school career doing just that. Though, some bullies didn't like it when their victim was quiet, so coming home bruised up every few months was expected. Dad taught me how to fight, but I chose not to fight back most times. That changed the day I found out that he had died.
Something in me snapped that day. I didn't find out about the car accident that took his life until I got home from school that day. Mom said she didn't want to stress me out at school. I took the news silently, went upstairs to my room, put on my headphones, and drowned my pain with rock guitar music. I felt the anger fester up inside me. I was angry at God, at my mother, and most of all, at Dad, for leaving me alone in the world. Sure, he had been a hard ass, but he was my dad. He taught me everything I knew, from manners to sarcasm to how to beat someone with soap and a sock. How could he leave me?
The day of the funeral was filled with arguing. Mom was knit picking everything I did.
"Tristan, just wear the suit."
"No."
"I spent hard earned money on that, boy. You will wear it."
"You can go get your money back! Dad wouldn't care if I wore a suit or if I wore my jeans and a t-shirt."
"Well, he's not here. We need to be dressed nicely to represent our family. He wouldn't want you to make his family look bad, would you?"
"I don't care. I don't even want to go anyway."
I went, but I didn't wear the suit. No one noticed, anyway.
I went back to school the next day. On my way to the restroom, a kid a grade level above me stopped me. He said he'd kick my ass just because he could. He rared back to hit me and was surprised when I punched him in the gut. When he doubled over in pain, I landed five good punches to his face and head. He was surprised, but I hadn't hurt him enough to fully stop him. When he caught his breath, he punched me right in the nose. I wiped away the blood and pulled out a pocket knife.
"Touch me one more fucking time, and I'll slit your fucking throat," I warned.
He left me alone, but a teacher had heard the ruckus and came to check it out. Needless to say, I was kicked out of school for having the knife, let alone trying to use it.
Mom put me in every school nearby. We even moved so she could find more schools. I got kicked out of everyone after being suspended too many times. I stayed so angry that whenever anyone looked at me the wrong way, I snapped and would hit them. I heard whispers about me in hallways, and would beat the shit out of the person who started the rumors after threatening those who were spreading them. Principals and counselors always told Mom to send me to a therapist and to anger management courses. I would go, sure, but I would clam up. No one could get a word out of me so they couldn't get inside my head. Mom gave up on trying to get "fixed" when I was fifteen. I was expelled for skipping classes to smoke pot in the bathroom. It was two weeks until my sixteenth birthday so Mom said I could just get a head start on dropping out, since she knew I was going to anyways.
I spent a week straight at the houses' of family and friends. Mom was starting to become dependent on alcohol and I couldn't take her drunken rages on top of the rage I felt. My cousin Harry's house was my favorite place to go. His mom didn't care if we drank and smoked. In fact, she was the person who gave me my first joint the day after my dad died. She said it would calm me down. And it did, but never enough.
Harry and I would hang out in his Dad's garage and tinker on an old fixer upper that was Harry's eighteenth birthday present. We would turn up the radio and work, just the two of us, enjoying the music and each other's silence. I stayed there for a week straight before going home. The stays eventually got longer, though, as Mom had a new boyfriend who liked to drink just as much as she did. He'd get pissed off at me for being there and would always try to start a fight with me. Instead of dealing with that, I'd just stay away and let them pickle their livers.
Eventually, Mom's new boyfriend's newness wore off and he started showing his true colors; he was an angry drunk. I took up for her in the beginning, taking his focus off of her so he'd fight me, instead. After a while, I gave up, because Mom never kicked him out. She stood by and watched me take the fall for her over and over and never once told the jackass to get off me. After a few months of it, I decided to move out. Mom didn't seem to give a shit about her own flesh and blood, and neither did Harry, who was moving away to work in a steel factory in Alabama. He had friends there who put in a good word for him and he got in pretty easily.
They were leaving me alone, just like Dad had done.
March 2, 2011
That One Night - Pills, Kills, and Wills (death)
[...posted by Ted H]
Aight, I can do one of a couple things tonight. I can either continue Safe Haven...or I can post something else, thus preventing myself from having too much drama come back to back. I went all of February going with the same theme. Figured I could change it up a bit from myself by posting a little piece from "That One Night"
...plus, I can give an example of the only rule I force upon myself when writing. I call it...
The Default Will Rule: When the story calls for an unimportant (even random) character to die in a trivial fashion, only serving to show off just how deadly/powerful the opposition is, that character shall be named "Will" and they will die the first time, every time.*
*Note: the characters named Will never need to be based off the actual Will the rule is named after. The only similarity is the name.
Anyway, this piece of the story shall show off not only how my Default Will Rule operates, but also just how bat shit insane this story can become...
enjoy...
............................................
[That One Night - Marshall's Flashback]
[The main character and his friend (Marshall) are in a diner after the first major encounter with a malevolent shadow wraith. Marshall now goes on to talk about the history he's had with this wraith]
"How many more people are dead, Marshall?" I asked
“Three. When he killed Will, I knew I needed help with this. When the shadow wraith found me, I freaked. You have to understand, I thought I was rid of it. It just came out of nowhere one day, screaming at me, but only I could hear or see it. Can you imagine what its like living around something that is screaming at you 24/7? It never stopped. Day, night, weekends, even holidays, all it ever did was scream. I would be watching TV with my entire family and this thing would appear right in front of the screen, screaming bloody murder, and only I would see and hear it. Everyone else would just stare right though it as if it weren’t there, because to them there really was nothing there.
“It would toss things in my room around at night, sometimes throwing them into the wall and breaking them over my head. It would steal things from around the house and leave them in my room. One night, it actually took all the panties from my mothers room and stuffed them under my mattress. I had to try an sneak them back where they belong at two in the morning. Try explaining that one to a psychiatrist? ‘Well sir I don’t actually have a fetish with my mothers underwear, that’s actually the mischief of ghost from another world that only I can see and hear.’ Yeah, it was best to avoid that conversation.
“My parents grew concerned anyway, especially when I started screaming back at the wraith, and they called my case worker. He was a doctor of some crap from some crappy university, with a friendly “You can just call me Will” attitude that made me resent him even more. For this visit, he brought a bottle of pills which he pulled from his pocket. He fed me some bull shit like what I was experiencing wasn’t real, then tried to get me to swallow a couple of the pills from the bottle. He told me the pills would make everything better again, like it was really that fucking simple to end this. A wraith from another fucking realm was constantly in my face screaming and a bottle of pills were suppose to magically make everything sunshine and roses? If Will honestly believed that bull shit, then he was the one that needed psychiatric help.
“I ignored the pill offer, which caused Will to get more invasive about me having to eat them. Apparently he wasn’t offering me the pills so much as he was ordering me to take them. I told him to fuck off. Then he said he would have to get physical if I didn’t willingly take the pills. Now, Will was a fat sack of shit, with no real muscle tone to speak of, so I laughed off his little “threat” which apparently struck a chord with him because the next thing I knew, the fucker was on top of me.
“Will was on top of me in the most non sexual way you can get when you’ve got your fingers in another persons mouth. His hand was trying to pry my teeth open so he could shove those damn pills down my throat, and I made the mistake of underestimating this fat fucks fatness, so I was trapped under his weight with his fingers in my mouth (again: completely nonsexual). That’s when the wraith struck.
“I didn’t see it act, but I felt the freezing chill run through my spine, announcing His presence. One second, Will had me pinned down under all 300+ pounds of lard, the next, he was off me and airborne. Will flew across the room and slammed into the wall, then collapsed onto the floor. I ran over and asked if he was alright. He got back up and ignored me. At first I thought he was either disoriented or perhaps he thought I was the one that had thrown him and was mad now. Something was off though, and I knew it had 100% to do with the wraith.
“Will then turned to face me with a big smile on his face. He told he how he really wanted me to take the pills. He said it would make me very happy. “Look how happy you could be,” he said as he downed the entire bottle of pills and gave off the biggest smile he could. “Wait” he said through his grin “You can be happier than this, I’ll show you.“ He then grabbed his cheek and dug his fingers in, blood pouring down his face as he ripped. He pulled and yanked at the skin until he had ripped his entire cheek off. I could see every tooth all the way over the side of his face.
“He then did the same thing to the other side of his face until he had ripped both cheeks off. You could see all of his teeth and he really did look happy as a result, despite the blood now pouring from his head. “Look how happy I am,” he said before he reached into his bag and pulled out a Swiss army knife.
“I really didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run, call for help, do anything but just stand there. “Will, uh…please stop,” was all I could throw out there. “Stop?” Will responded “I haven’t been this happy in my entire life, why would I stop now?” he then started cutting around his head onto the back of his neck and back to the other side of his face so that his “smile” went all the way around his head.
“He then grabbed his jaw and yanked it downward. A wet pop sounded as his jaw now hung limp below his head, his tongue dangling down as blood and drool dripped from it and onto the floor. Will tried to laugh, but the gargling of blood rising from his throat kept cutting him off. He then started carving happy faces into his body, because apparently what he did to his head still didn’t quite portray how happy he was feeling. He was putting happy faces on his arms, legs, chest, hell, he even threw a few stabs into his crotch all while laughing up blood and bile from his mouth.
“There was no room on his body for any more stabbing, so Will started smearing his blood onto the walls to make happy faces. He then shoved his hand into his pants and into his ass and used his feces to make more happy faces. Apparently Will had become Bob Ross and needed just the right shade of brown to sufficiently spread equality in his world of the happy, bloody shit people.
“Eventually, enough blood poured out of Will and he fell over dead. At that point my dad busted down the door and saw what had happened. The timing was impeccable. My dad assumed what most normal people would assume: that I freaked out in a bad way and killed Will…then spread blood and feces on the walls because fuck conventional wisdom and common sense, I’m a loony! Next thing I knew, cops had arrived to arrest me. The officers took one look into the room where Will was and one of them ran off to puke somewhere. I didn’t blame him, what with the shit and the drying blood and the decomposing corpse, the room had become pretty rancid. The cops led me out of the house and towards their car. One threw me onto the hood to arrest me, not at all being gentle about it and he patted me down, which felt more like he was slapping me the entire time, especially in the crotch.
That‘s when the wraith appeared again, this time I could see Him. He floated right through both cops, neither one noticed it, and then disappeared again. Apparently I wasn’t gonna get the same daring rescue twice in one night. A second later tough, the cop arresting me was shot in the back of the head by his partner. He then laughed, put the gun in his own mouth and pulled the trigger again.
“Once again, I freaked, only this time I was running. I knew I needed additional help, and I wasn’t gonna get any at home. I jumped into my dad’s car. I knew he kept a spare key in the glove box so I quickly dug it out as fired up the engine. When I backed out of the driveway, I looked over to see both cops had gotten up. They weren’t coming after me though, one was yelling at the other over shooting him. Soon both of them had their pistols drawn and were shooting each other. I watched in horror for a moment while both cops riddled each other with bullets, stopped to reload while arguing, then picked up the shooting again, all as if it were normal for them.
No one else saw this. My parents heard the shots and stayed inside all to avoid possibly getting shot by a stray bullet, which was unnecessary since the cops were about three feet from each other, it would have been impossible for them to miss. My family didn’t see the truth and it was too dark for any neighbors to see it happen, so everyone thinks I killed all those people."
Aight, I can do one of a couple things tonight. I can either continue Safe Haven...or I can post something else, thus preventing myself from having too much drama come back to back. I went all of February going with the same theme. Figured I could change it up a bit from myself by posting a little piece from "That One Night"
...plus, I can give an example of the only rule I force upon myself when writing. I call it...
The Default Will Rule: When the story calls for an unimportant (even random) character to die in a trivial fashion, only serving to show off just how deadly/powerful the opposition is, that character shall be named "Will" and they will die the first time, every time.*
*Note: the characters named Will never need to be based off the actual Will the rule is named after. The only similarity is the name.
Anyway, this piece of the story shall show off not only how my Default Will Rule operates, but also just how bat shit insane this story can become...
enjoy...
............................................
[That One Night - Marshall's Flashback]
[The main character and his friend (Marshall) are in a diner after the first major encounter with a malevolent shadow wraith. Marshall now goes on to talk about the history he's had with this wraith]
"How many more people are dead, Marshall?" I asked
“Three. When he killed Will, I knew I needed help with this. When the shadow wraith found me, I freaked. You have to understand, I thought I was rid of it. It just came out of nowhere one day, screaming at me, but only I could hear or see it. Can you imagine what its like living around something that is screaming at you 24/7? It never stopped. Day, night, weekends, even holidays, all it ever did was scream. I would be watching TV with my entire family and this thing would appear right in front of the screen, screaming bloody murder, and only I would see and hear it. Everyone else would just stare right though it as if it weren’t there, because to them there really was nothing there.
“It would toss things in my room around at night, sometimes throwing them into the wall and breaking them over my head. It would steal things from around the house and leave them in my room. One night, it actually took all the panties from my mothers room and stuffed them under my mattress. I had to try an sneak them back where they belong at two in the morning. Try explaining that one to a psychiatrist? ‘Well sir I don’t actually have a fetish with my mothers underwear, that’s actually the mischief of ghost from another world that only I can see and hear.’ Yeah, it was best to avoid that conversation.
“My parents grew concerned anyway, especially when I started screaming back at the wraith, and they called my case worker. He was a doctor of some crap from some crappy university, with a friendly “You can just call me Will” attitude that made me resent him even more. For this visit, he brought a bottle of pills which he pulled from his pocket. He fed me some bull shit like what I was experiencing wasn’t real, then tried to get me to swallow a couple of the pills from the bottle. He told me the pills would make everything better again, like it was really that fucking simple to end this. A wraith from another fucking realm was constantly in my face screaming and a bottle of pills were suppose to magically make everything sunshine and roses? If Will honestly believed that bull shit, then he was the one that needed psychiatric help.
“I ignored the pill offer, which caused Will to get more invasive about me having to eat them. Apparently he wasn’t offering me the pills so much as he was ordering me to take them. I told him to fuck off. Then he said he would have to get physical if I didn’t willingly take the pills. Now, Will was a fat sack of shit, with no real muscle tone to speak of, so I laughed off his little “threat” which apparently struck a chord with him because the next thing I knew, the fucker was on top of me.
“Will was on top of me in the most non sexual way you can get when you’ve got your fingers in another persons mouth. His hand was trying to pry my teeth open so he could shove those damn pills down my throat, and I made the mistake of underestimating this fat fucks fatness, so I was trapped under his weight with his fingers in my mouth (again: completely nonsexual). That’s when the wraith struck.
“I didn’t see it act, but I felt the freezing chill run through my spine, announcing His presence. One second, Will had me pinned down under all 300+ pounds of lard, the next, he was off me and airborne. Will flew across the room and slammed into the wall, then collapsed onto the floor. I ran over and asked if he was alright. He got back up and ignored me. At first I thought he was either disoriented or perhaps he thought I was the one that had thrown him and was mad now. Something was off though, and I knew it had 100% to do with the wraith.
“Will then turned to face me with a big smile on his face. He told he how he really wanted me to take the pills. He said it would make me very happy. “Look how happy you could be,” he said as he downed the entire bottle of pills and gave off the biggest smile he could. “Wait” he said through his grin “You can be happier than this, I’ll show you.“ He then grabbed his cheek and dug his fingers in, blood pouring down his face as he ripped. He pulled and yanked at the skin until he had ripped his entire cheek off. I could see every tooth all the way over the side of his face.
“He then did the same thing to the other side of his face until he had ripped both cheeks off. You could see all of his teeth and he really did look happy as a result, despite the blood now pouring from his head. “Look how happy I am,” he said before he reached into his bag and pulled out a Swiss army knife.
“I really didn’t know what to do. I wanted to run, call for help, do anything but just stand there. “Will, uh…please stop,” was all I could throw out there. “Stop?” Will responded “I haven’t been this happy in my entire life, why would I stop now?” he then started cutting around his head onto the back of his neck and back to the other side of his face so that his “smile” went all the way around his head.
“He then grabbed his jaw and yanked it downward. A wet pop sounded as his jaw now hung limp below his head, his tongue dangling down as blood and drool dripped from it and onto the floor. Will tried to laugh, but the gargling of blood rising from his throat kept cutting him off. He then started carving happy faces into his body, because apparently what he did to his head still didn’t quite portray how happy he was feeling. He was putting happy faces on his arms, legs, chest, hell, he even threw a few stabs into his crotch all while laughing up blood and bile from his mouth.
“There was no room on his body for any more stabbing, so Will started smearing his blood onto the walls to make happy faces. He then shoved his hand into his pants and into his ass and used his feces to make more happy faces. Apparently Will had become Bob Ross and needed just the right shade of brown to sufficiently spread equality in his world of the happy, bloody shit people.
“Eventually, enough blood poured out of Will and he fell over dead. At that point my dad busted down the door and saw what had happened. The timing was impeccable. My dad assumed what most normal people would assume: that I freaked out in a bad way and killed Will…then spread blood and feces on the walls because fuck conventional wisdom and common sense, I’m a loony! Next thing I knew, cops had arrived to arrest me. The officers took one look into the room where Will was and one of them ran off to puke somewhere. I didn’t blame him, what with the shit and the drying blood and the decomposing corpse, the room had become pretty rancid. The cops led me out of the house and towards their car. One threw me onto the hood to arrest me, not at all being gentle about it and he patted me down, which felt more like he was slapping me the entire time, especially in the crotch.
That‘s when the wraith appeared again, this time I could see Him. He floated right through both cops, neither one noticed it, and then disappeared again. Apparently I wasn’t gonna get the same daring rescue twice in one night. A second later tough, the cop arresting me was shot in the back of the head by his partner. He then laughed, put the gun in his own mouth and pulled the trigger again.
“Once again, I freaked, only this time I was running. I knew I needed additional help, and I wasn’t gonna get any at home. I jumped into my dad’s car. I knew he kept a spare key in the glove box so I quickly dug it out as fired up the engine. When I backed out of the driveway, I looked over to see both cops had gotten up. They weren’t coming after me though, one was yelling at the other over shooting him. Soon both of them had their pistols drawn and were shooting each other. I watched in horror for a moment while both cops riddled each other with bullets, stopped to reload while arguing, then picked up the shooting again, all as if it were normal for them.
No one else saw this. My parents heard the shots and stayed inside all to avoid possibly getting shot by a stray bullet, which was unnecessary since the cops were about three feet from each other, it would have been impossible for them to miss. My family didn’t see the truth and it was too dark for any neighbors to see it happen, so everyone thinks I killed all those people."
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