Motionless

Just a quick bit of sci-fi I wrote out of boredom.

Motionless. The only way to describe the wasteland of Braxis. The rolling dunes of the desert were completely without movement. From one side of the horizon to the other one could look an they would see nothing but the barren plains of grey, the desert of Braxis being not covered in sand but ash. Over the centuries since the planet’s core had burst the ash thrown up into the atmosphere had settled and compacted under the harsh winds and heavy rain storms, leaving a solid floor of darkness, leaving it motionless, or all but motionless. Slowly and tentatively something small broke the surface of the ash. A small creature, it’s fur matted and coarse carefully poked it’s head from where it had been hiding beneath the cover of ash and, after many minutes scouting the area. Broke from it’s cover, running a few feet it hid in the shadows provided by the closes dune and went to ground, flattening itself to the floor and watching. Taking it’s time the predator waited, knowing that before long it’s patience would be rewarded. Finally it’s patience was rewarded when something moved, skirting the desert quickly it darted forward before stopping. Sliding forward almost leisurely the predator moved, what it was hunting didn’t matter, only that it was soon to become food. The hunter had learnt after years of life, how to move silently but quickly across the desert and before too long it had closed on it’s prey which was still very much unaware of it’s presence. Staying low the hunter stopped, knowing that even as it closed, one wrong movement would cost it it’s meal. The ash moved minutely before it as it carefully moved again, finally it was close enough, the time to strike was now and with one surge of it’s muscles it burst forward and out of the ash, It’s huge frame exploding from the ash like a breaching whale and it’s jaws scooping up and enveloping the small rodent which hadn’t even realised it was being stalked and which managed a small, pitiful squeal before it disappeared completely into the maw of oblivion.
The Dust Devil lay on the surface of the ash,resting it’s huge frame allowing it’s scales to absorb some small amount of sunlight from the clouded sky as it chewed it’s prey a few times before swallowing. In the distance it watched a as a trio of dust clouds made their way across the desert, the Devil had seen clouds like this before, it didn’t know what caused them but it’s primitive animal intellect told it that it was best to stay away for now. Even if it moved at top speed it was no match for the vehicles on the horizon, but what else it knew was that sooner or later those vehicles would releases softer, slower targets and then maybe it could claim a more significant meals that the one it had just had. Casually the beast turned back to the ash, using it’s ram like nose to crack the surface and then pulled itself underground again. The only sign that it had ever been there being the long thin track left by it’s dorsal spines as it moved, punctuated by one larger crater before the trail continued, turning east and following after the clouds on the horizon.
Heedless of the display of nature that had just occurred the small army jeep sped on across the wasteland, it’s wheels kicking up huge plumes of ash as it did so, causing the bus that followed behind it to need to keep a good distance to it’s left in order for the driver to be able to see where they were going and the same said for the cargo truck behind that, causing the convoy to gouge a wide series of tracks out of the previously perfectly flat ash.

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A little Self Indulgence

I have a bit of a love hate relationship with scripts. The ability to write long coversations with ease is invaluble but at the same time they do somewhat limit the ability to be descriptive of enviroments and actions. That said I have been mulling over for a while something I read years ago about it being important to create your own characters and make them your own and so my mind turned to how I would design a character in the same vain as horror classica such as Pinhead, Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees and the like. Now I’m not comparing my characters to greats like them because I think my invention is as good, just that they are the type of design and style I was looking to replicate.

INT. A BEDROOM.
A man sits at a desk, the only light coming from the computer
glowing computer monitor in front of him, he is naked except
for a pair of boxer shorts and as he scrolls through the list
of videos on the screen he licks his lips. One had controls
the mouse while the other slowly slips from where it had been
resting on his leg and creeps down the front of his shorts.
As a video plays he starts to rub his cock vigorously. On
screen a woman is dragged down a back alley by two men, her
blouse ripped violently off of her body. By the time the
second man gets his turn with the now broken and battered
woman the man at his desk has already spilt his seed and is
lounging on his chair looking satisfied, and glancing around
for tissues.
HIDDEN FIGURE
I trust that was what you wanted.
The man at the computer looks around in fear
MAN AT DESK
Who’s there? How did you get in
here
A figure steps from the shadows, unnaturally tall and thin it
is dressed in a bizarre black outfit so tight that even in
the dark its ribs can be seen through the material, strangely
pointed and sharp. It’s shoulders are adorned with a ragged
looking cloak and it wears boots up to its knees. On its head
is a cavalier hat complete with silver feather that shimmers
in the dark. The hat is tilted in such a way that the pointed
brim covers the figures eyes.
THE CAVALIER
My name is without importance, it
has long since been lost beneath
the sands of time, as for how I
entered, the door.
(thin, pale lips curl into
a smile beneath the
pointed hat)
MAN AT DESK
I’ve been here all night, I can see
that door and no body has been
through it.
THE CAVALIER
I did not say I used that door, I
used the door. But again, it is of
no importance.
MAN AT DESK
I don’t know who you are or what
drugs you’ve been taking, just get
out of my house now, I’m calling
the police.
THE CAVALIER
Call whoever you want, They won’t
hear you. I won’t allow them to.
MAN AT DESK
Look Just get out, I have a gun in
this desk here and I will use it
THE CAVALIER
(smirking again)
You have no such weapon, nor would
one aid you even if you did. I am
beyond threats from this world
MAN AT DESK
(becoming hysterical)
Look I don’t know what you want but
get out I really will call the
police
THE CAVALIER
And as I have told you, they will
not hear you. As for what I want, I
have come for you Anthony Rouse
ANTHONY
How do you know my name?
THE CAVALIER
How could I not know the name of
the man who called me.
ANTHONY
I don’t know you, I have never
called you. You won’t even tell me
who you are.
THE CAVALIER
Your mouth doesn’t need to summon
me, your actions are enough, I hope
that you enjoyed them, they may be
your last for a very long time.
Anthony falls backwards out of his chair and scoots away
across the floor. In response The Cavalier takes a few
delicate paces forwards, carefully placing each foot in front
of the other.
ANTHONY
You-you’re here to kill me? Why?
HELP! HELP!
THE CAVALIER
(licks its lips as if
savoring a great taste)
Kill you my dear Anthony?

(MORE)
No, you are not going to die,
though your actions may have
condemned you to a fate you would
consider worse.
ANTHONY
Please No!, What have I done to
deserve this? Why would a demon
like you come to me?
THE CAVALIER
What have you done? My dear Anthony
you have just finished signing your
own fate, The ink isn’t even dry on
your hands yet.
The Cavalier turns it’s head towards the door for a moment
before turning back.
(beneath it’s hat there is
a glint of gold from an
amber eye which is hidden
as The Cavalier turns
back)
THE CAVALIER (CONT’D)
Beyond that door is a room where a
woman sleeps. A woman you promised
as you were wed to her that you
would love forever and yet as she
sleeps you are in here committing
adultery of the mind and yet you
have the indecency to ask what it
is you have done? And you asked my
identity before, you may have found
a fitting answer as Demon seems
like a fitting way to describe my
personage
ANTHONY
Please, Poor Monica, you can’t kill
me, think of her? Where would she
be without me. I provide for her, I
put food on her table…
THE CAVALIER
(Anger rising in its voice
for the first time)
An appeal to consider the innocent?
Where was she on your mind as you
were in here defiling the bond the
two of you signed? How can you lie
there and ask me to think of her
when you never did. Provide for
her? When was the last time you did
anything with her wellbeing in
mind? You call yourself a man when
really there is no chivalry in your
heart.

THE CAVALIER (CONT’D)
(MORE)
I, who addressed myself as demon am
more a man than you. Those tears
you weep are not for her but for
yourself.
ANTHONY
(begging)
Please no! There must be people
worse than I am, all I did was
masturbate, there are men out there
cheating all the time, right now
someone is with a whore while his
wife is at home please why me?
THE CAVALIER
Worse than you? Yes there are, but
it is not them to who I appear, but
you.
ANTHONY
I can change…
THE CAVALIER
Change Anthony? That is an
admission of guilt. People who
change are people who are wrong.
You have put yourself in a position
you should never have been in
Anthony, This is your own doing.
The Cavalier raises a hand and Anthony rises off the ground.
He starts to twitch and scream as he convulses in the air,
clearly in excruciating pain even though his body shows no
sign of physical damage.
ANTHONY
(between screams)
Please no! God in heaven no!
THE CAVALIER
(unleashes a dark laugh so
evil that despite the
mystical space he exists
in manages to wake Monica
in the next room)
A great man once wrote, that There
are more things in heaven and
earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of
in your philosophy. None of these
things will you see My dear
Anthony. You are going beyond
earth, and with your crimes, you
will never see heaven.
Anthony, still convulsing, drifts across the floor until his
chin rests perfectly in The Cavalier’s outstretched hand.

THE CAVALIER (CONT’D)
As soon as their skin touches Anthony’s convulsions stop and
he hangs from The Cavalier’s hand entirely, The Cavalier its
self showing no sign of struggling to hold him.
ANTHONY
P…please, a second chance.
THE CAVALIER
You have had a chance Anthony, that
is more than some get. Now come,
there is so much yet for you to
experience.
The Cavalier finally lifts its hat, tipping it up with one
delicate finger and showing a ghostly pale face that houses
golden eyes glowing so intently that they seem to bore into
the very soul.
The door opens and Monica steps in, turning on the light she
stares around the empty room. The chair is still on it’s side
on the floor and on the computer screen the second man
finished with the woman as the first pulls a knife to slit
her throat.
MONICA
Anthony?
End.

Ashes and Anger (wip)

I have been going back and forth for a while about what I am going to do with this story. I have, in truth, been working on it for over a year. occasionally I open it up and write a few lines but I really haven’t got much drive left to finish it despite still quite liking the idea. I guess in all fairness you could say that if it has taken that long I can’t like it too much but at the same time I would hate to see it unfinished after it got so close. I just got side tracked when i was writing ‘You are what you eat’ and i never really got the momentum back for it…

Ashes and Anger.

The music stuttering from the small Sony radio wavered and faded before coming back to power for a few seconds before fading again and finally dying into static. James Arnold cursed under his breath and stood from his chair, walking across the room to give it a gentle tap. There was no response and after a few more severe slaps James gave on the damned thing and turned it off. It always happened here, it was something about the crematorium walls that meant that almost any technology short of that which kept the place running seemed to short out and die. The local council had come up with some excuse about the way the place was built and deemed all excess items unnecessary, if it didn’t interrupt the way the crematorium was run then they weren’t going to do a thing.

James returned to his desk and picked up the crossword again, 11 down, Ironmonger, 6 letters. James puzzled over it again; he had been stuck for a while. Finally he gave up and turned to his right pressing the intercom.

‘Hey Trev, you there?’

For a moment there was nothing but a quiet buzz before a voice replied.

‘Yea Jim, what’s up?’

‘You had any luck with 11 down?’

There was a chuckle from the intercom.

‘Yea I put Harold…’

‘What do you mean Harold?’

‘Well I have a friend called Harold who is an ironmonger’

‘Somehow I’m not sure that’s the answer they had in mind’

Both men were chuckling now

‘Yea well maybe I could be more helpful but I’m still stuck on 5 across.’

‘Yea I haven’t figured it out either; I’m starting to think I’m not very good at crosswords.’

‘I’m starting to think the same, you’re not very good at these, stick to sudoku’

James laughed

‘Asshole’

‘I Heard that. Look give me 20 minutes to have a sweep of the top floor and then I’ll come down and we can compare what answers we do have.’

‘No problem’ finished James and he let go of the intercom.

‘Oh he’s coming down’ mumbled James to himself before giving his crossword another scan and then throwing it down on the desk.

‘Can’t do a crossword on my own’

James opened up his desk draw and looked about inside, shifting around the piles of receipts and the odd dirty magazine he kept in there till he found the Pack of cigarettes he had been looking for. He opened the pack and withdrew a cigarette and his lighter, lit up and then threw the pack and lighter back into the draw which he closed. Then rocking back on his chair he placed his feet on the desk and took a deep drag on the lit cigarette before turning to the security console. There was nothing happening. Each of the cameras showed the same empty corridors they always showed at this time of night. What a waste of money, keeping both a manager and a security personnel on the premises at night. What was the point? Who wanted to get into a crematorium at night? What were people going to try and do? Steal something? It was stupid. But James supposed that as long as they kept paying him his surprisingly generous salary he didn’t really care.

Taking another drag of his cigarette James was startled when the radio buzzed static again loudly. God damn this place, stupid power problems. But wait, hadn’t he turned the radio off? Looking over towards the wall where it was plugged in James could quite clearly see from his chair that the switch was in the off position. James gazed at this for a moment, running through ideas of how the radio could have come to making noise when the sudden knock at the door made him jump and almost fall backwards out his chair, the cigarette dropping from his mouth.

‘Don’t you remember being told not to rock on your chair in school?’ Trevor, the security guard was stood in the doorway laughing as James grabbed the desk to keep himself from toppling.

‘You Dick!’ James shouted, his hand on his heart feeling it beating like a machine gun.

‘Something got you distracted Jim?

‘Damn radio playing up again only, I turned it off when it first started doing it’

‘Maybe it’s the ghosts’ Trevor said waving his arms in a mock ghostly fashion.

‘Oh shut up and show me your crossword.’

An hour later Trevor returned to the top level and to his security details. While James shoved his paper in his draw and turned back to his security console. He slipped between the various cameras, 1 was fine, 2 was fine 3 was fine 4…4 wasn’t showing anything. Well it was showing something but it was just a grey image, not static but something was blocking the lens. James sighed and got up from his chair, grabbing his keys and heading to the door. Just as he left the radio gave another loud buzz of static, James jumped and spun to look at it. It was still off. Taking a deep breath to steady himself again James walked over to the radio and unplugged it before leaving the room and making his was to corridor G where the offending camera was located. As James walked the corridor his mind was preoccupied with the radio and he only faintly noticed the burnt smell in the air. Of course this wasn’t unusual in a crematorium but usually by this time of night the smell would have faded to almost undetectable while tonight the smell was getting stronger.

When he reached corridor G he looked up at the camera and saw what the problem was. There was a thick layer of ash covering the lens, as well as a smear of it down the wall underneath the camera. James stood and took in the scene, the ash looked almost like it had been deliberately left on the camera, it seemed too perfect for it to be there, and the wall, there was a lot of ash there, stuck to It as it was it looked as if something had been dragged down it, leaving the smear. James’ mind raced with a thousand unlikely scenarios, the wind, an animal, then he finally realised. Chuckling at his stupidity he went to clean the camera. It was a practical joke. Trevor must be trying to spook him by making this mess; he might even be behind the radio somehow. Reaching up to brush the ash from the camera he ran his finger along the lens and yelped, wrenching his hand back and clutching it close to him. The lens had been burning hot, like touching a stove. James looked at his finger, expecting for it to already be turning red, maybe already be burned, but it looked as it ever did and the pain was already subsiding.

Slowly, carefully James reached up again. The camera was giving off no heat that he could feel without touching it, not even slightly warm. He took a breath and rubbed his finger across the lens. The glass was cold as ice. James whipped all the ash off and walked back a few steps. Maybe it was a static shock he had felt, not a burn. James left the ash on the wall; the cleaners could deal with it in the morning. All the way back to his office James had a cold sweat, he felt like something wasn’t right and he was starting to feel that this may not be a practical joke. It was just that a feeling, he had not concrete proof that it wasn’t, just this horrible feeling.

When James got to the door of his office he stopped. There was a sound coming from inside. A quiet but high pitched screech, one persistent note that seemed to be never ending permeating the door and drifting down the corridor. James slowly opened the door carefully glancing into the room to try and see where the noise was coming from. Not that he needed look far. He already knew as soon as the door opened that it would be the radio that was making that sound. The screech was issuing from the speakers like a piano with something lying on the keys. The plug was still lying on the table next to the body of the radio and James knew that he had never put batteries in it, had never even taken off the back cover.  James cautiously picked up the radio, holding it in his hands and staring at it. The sound persisted. James gave the radio a quick shake and still the sound persisted. James gave the radio another harder shake and the screech exploded into a scream that filled the room. A banshee’s wail that split the ears and rattled the screens of the security console.

James dropped the radio and it crashed to the floor, bits of plastic scattering in all directions and one of the speaker covers skidded off under the table. The scream stopped immediately and in the silence James could feel his ears ringing, his eardrums throbbing. The silence stretched on for minutes while James simply stood and looked down at the broken radio. Smashed on the ground the main body was mostly intact, a few chips and one big crack. The led screen had shattered but for the most part it was in one piece.  Finally James decided what to do. Picking up the radio he hurried over to his cupboard and wrenched it open. Placing the radio at the back of the bottom shelf he slammed the door and padlocked it closed something he never did. Then he returned to his chair and slumped down. His fear slowly leaving him and making him exhausted. For the rest of that night James merely sat and stared at the cupboard. Almost too afraid to move for fear that the radio might start screaming again. When dawn came he left immediately, not waiting for his replacement to arrive.

James did not sleep well that day. Dreading returning to the crematorium he dreamt of twisting darkness and the smell of burnt flesh that filled his lungs and choked him. He woke before his alarm drenched in a hot sweat and considered calling in sick but he knew he would never be believed. He staggered around his flat still exhausted and unable to even think of eating anything he considered telling Trevor about what had happened but he knew he would just get laughed at. He decided he needed some proof and finally he decided that he knew how to get it. Rummaging through his draws he finally found what he was looking for. His Dictaphone from when he had attempted university.

That night James arrived at work almost an hour early, something that was almost unheard of. He set his Dictaphone up in the room and waited for his shift to start, the sandwich he had bought at the corner shop lay open but uneaten. James had spent the entire day without food, buying the sandwich simply because he thought that he needed it but as soon as he tried to take a bit he felt his stomach turn, unable to even stomach the concept. He almost ached at the prospect. So he sat and waited, waited for anything to happen.

But nothing happened. James’ shift started. The hours rolled by Trevor came in for a chat but James was too preoccupied to be much of a conversationalist and Trevor left seeming a bit put off.

The Factory

So after a long time of working on a submission for  publisher and after some work on a personal project of mine that I’m not sharing yet, I finally got down to some horror story work. This is an attempt of mine to try and write something a bit longer and I’m not sure about it but I guess we shall see. Also for once i edited my work!

 

The factory loomed ominously high into the air, the grey tower of the smokestack highlighted by the clear sky. Ryan stared up at the tall building, looking through the broken windows, fancying that he could see shapes moving beyond the shards of glass that still sat in their frames. At eight years old Ryan had always been told by his mother to stay away from the factory even though the chain link fence that surrounded it was completely locked and there was no way through. Ryan had always thought that he would be able to climb the fence easily enough if he had a chance, but he knew he wouldn’t even get half way up before he was seen.

Ryan was about to turn away and continue on his way back home when he felt something pat him on the back. Ryan jumped and wheeled around to see another child, probably slightly older than himself, his features contorted into a smirk.

“You like the factory kid?”

Ryan didn’t reply, he was still slightly shaken and he didn’t recall having ever seen this kid before.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t scare you did I?”

Ryan shook his head but still didn’t say anything.

“You ever been in there? It’s really cool inside.”

“You can’t get in, the gate is locked” Ryan finally replied.

“Don’t be stupid, you don’t get in through the gate; there’s a hole in the fence, me and all my friends have been in there.”

“There’s a hole? Where?” asked Ryan excitedly, despite knowing that he probably shouldn’t know or else he would be even more tempted to go exploring it.

“It’s round the back, follow me” and with that the kid walked off, turning round once to wave Ryan after him as he hadn’t moved. Ryan hesitated for another moment and then followed.

As they walked round the back of the factory the kid turned round again.

“What’s your name?”

“Ryan”

“Mine’s Tommy” he replied and continued walking.

The pair reached the back of the factory by slipping through a narrow back alley, little more than a few feet gap between two other houses. When they got around to the back Tommy knelt down by the fence and started to pull at a corner by a support pole, revealing a gap that was small but still large enough to crawl through. Tommy stood again and gestured for Ryan to crawl go on through.

“Go on” he said, but Ryan didn’t move.

“My mum tells me I’m not supposed to go in there, it’s dangerous.”

“Oh you big baby, do you do everything your mum tells you? I told you everyone I know has been in there, it’s not dangerous.”

Ryan stood and considered it for a moment, before stooping and staring to crawl under the fence. When he got to the other side he turned back to Tommy but he had made no inclination that he was going to follow him.

“Are you not coming?”

“Not yet, there’s a game. If it’s your first time going into the factory, you have to go alone.”

Ryan was shocked at this.

“Go in alone? For how long?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come in and find you when you’ve been in there long enough.”

Ryan turned and looked at the factory. As enticing as it had looked before it now had an air of foreboding that didn’t seem to settle quite right.

“Go on, go in, or are you just a chicken?” Tommy taunted from the other side of the fence.

Ryan gave one last half glance backwards before setting off resolutely towards the ominous building that stood in front of him.

As Ryan approached the factory he started to wonder how he was supposed to get inside. He had always thought that the large iron doors had been sealed when it had closed and he knew he had no chance of being able to pull them open. His trainers crunched in the gravel that covered what had once been the car park of the factory but now was empty asides from an old rusty shopping trolley that lay on its side in the middle of the car park.

Starting to consider the possibility that there was maybe a widow somewhere on the ground level somewhere he could climb through Ryan wondered if that was how Tommy had gotten

before. Or maybe Tommy had been lying and he had never been in the factory and had just been teasing him. But then how would know about the hole in the fence. But as Ryan grew closer to the big factory front doors he saw that instead of being closed they were in fact standing slightly ajar, just enough for him to be able to slip through in fact.

Pausing just before the doors Ryan peered into the darkness of the factory but he couldn’t see much through the small gap between the doors. Taking a deep breath Ryan started to slip through the opening. As he slithered through he started to see more of the factory’s insides which got his excitement going and he struggled harder, desperate to get inside. Suddenly something caught Ryan’s jacket. He pulled desperately at it but he could not get it free. Suddenly the horrible thought that while he was stuck there circled his head, still halfway between the doors, something could happen and the doors would slam shut on him! He started to pull more frantically at the jacket but still couldn’t budge it. Finally he managed to get the zipper open and he slipped out of it tripping as he forced his way through the doors, landing hard on the ground.

Getting up from the floor Ryan tried again to pull his jacket from the door but was still unable to. He thought it must be stuck from the other side and was about to squeeze through again to try and retrieve it but then he remembered what Tommy had said, he had to stay in there until Tommy came and got him before he leave. He stood there for a moment, considering what to do, then decided that he would have to get his jacket on the way out. Turning away from this now he faced the rest of the factory.

Ryan found himself in a massive room full of old machinery such as conveyor belts which stretched the majority of the room. There was a staircase that lead up a back wall, ending in a door that lead off to another part of the factory. The factory had used to be used to make car engines a couple of which were still sitting on the conveyor belts as well as several small piles of parts littered around the place, almost like they had been abandoned in a hurry. There was also a chain hanging from the ceiling that ended in a vicious looking hook the purpose of which Ryan could not fathom.

The edges of the room were lined with huge metal supports that ran up the walls and across the ceiling connecting together in the middle of the roof, giving Ryan the image of some bizarre metal ribcage. On the back wall of the factory there was a massive machine that all the conveyor belts lead out from. This machine was probably about the size of Ryan’s bedroom back home and he was amazed at the complexity. With several panels on the side with controls that Ryan could not understand. Given its positioning and sheer size Ryan thought instantly of it as the heart of the factory, hidden behind its steel ribs.

But Ryan’s attention was distracted mostly with the way that the light filtered in through the windows, many of which were broken or boarded up so that the light only managed to enter in slivers, becoming a glowing razor blade that cut through the darkness. The dust particles floated down and rose through the trails of light, reflecting off it and giving the appearance that they were sparkling. The small movements they made, caused by the light breeze wafting in, made them look like they were dancing through the beams of light, pirouetting through the air.

The wind that blew through the factory made a quiet whistling sound as it passed through some of the piles of pipes that littered the ground and the occasional squeak from a mouse made a quiet symphony to play for the dust. Ryan was amazed at how, despite the initial impression of stillness, that the factory gave off it was in fact in constant state of movement. From the dust dancing around and the mice scurrying back and forth under the machinery to the fluttering of the ivy leaves of a creeper that had grown up through a crack in the concrete floor and was now constricting it’s way round one of the steel ribs.

Ryan also noticed the smell that the breeze brought in with it. While he had been expecting the smell in the factory to be damp and mouldy it was quite the opposite. It smelt earthy, like walking through a wood and smelling the damp soil and the wet grass. It was a smell that reminded Ryan of going to see his grandparents, who lived in the country, playing hide and seek with his cousins. The smell made Ryan happy. It washed away all the fear that he had had just moments earlier and started his excitement running again. He was eager to go exploring the rest of the factory.

After looking around at the several doors that lead off the main factory floor Ryan decided to take a passage closer to the back wall, partly because he wanted to get a closer look at the heart and also because it seemed to him that that was where the breeze was coming from. Wandering down the corridor Ryan saw that there were several wires and pipes attached to the ceiling running from the heart and down into the next room. This seemed slightly weird to Ryan as he had would have thought that wires like that would have been somewhere that they were less likely to be damaged. His mother had always told him that a damaged wire was exceedingly dangerous and that he should stay away from one should he see it. But these wires weren’t damaged as far as Ryan could see so he continued to wander along the corridor. He should be ok.

The corridor was long and bland to look at but finally Ryan entered another room. This one was a lot smaller, filled by another large machine that the wires led into. He assumed that it must be some sort of engine to drive the other machine as there was the smell of petrol about it and several

empty cans lying in a corner that Ryan had seen before when his mother had stopped to fill the car up. Ryan found this room to be less interesting than the main factory floor and after a quick look around, returned the way he had come with the intention of seeing where the stairs lead.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs he looked them up and down, they looked secure enough though there was a worrying amount of rust on some of them and the handrail was broken in several places. Ryan hesitated, starting to worry about the wisdom of climbing them, but as he looked up towards the room at the top he could see that the door was slightly open and there was a golden glow coming from inside. Taking a deep breath Ryan put his foot on the bottom stair and started his ascent. He was small for his age and quite light so he reckoned that he shouldn’t have any problems. Though they were rusty the stairs stood firm as he climbed them and even the worst looking section showed no signs of stress as he traversed them. Reaching the door at the top he pushed it all the way open and stepped inside, still slightly relieved to be off the stairs.

Turning to look at the rest of the room he had entered he saw he was in a small office, about half as long as the main factory floor and thinner, he was surprised to see that the divisions that separated the cubicles were still in place and a few of the desks were still sat there, worn and starting to be eaten away by woodworm but still where they had been left.

Ryan walked around some of the cubicles examining them; opening desk draws gripped by the desire to see if anything had been left in them. He jumping out of his skin when he opened one to see a small rat sat inside chewing on a rotting piece of paper. The rat leered up at him and squealed before leaping from the draw and speeding off out of sight. Ryan let out a small yell as it darted past him and stumbled backwards, hitting the wall. He waited a moment to let his heart settle down again before looking around the room again, trying to find the source of the light he had seen, his desire to examine the draws no longer as strong. Finally saw it. There was a door at the opposite end of the room that stood ajar, and the glow he had seen was emanating from under and around the cracks where it was slightly open. Creeping forward cautiously he pushed the door open a bit more and peered round it to see what was inside.

Ryan saw a single office, not too large in size but with a big window opposite the door that looked out onto the street below and gave a nice view of the sky. The sun was starting it’s decent in the sky, painting it shade of burnished bronze as it hung just above the skyline of the city. In the middle of the room was another old desk and behind that there was a tall office chair bound in brown leather. Despite the fact that the chair must have been quite old the leather had only started

to crack in a few places and apart from a bit of wear in another couple of spots was clean and still perfectly useable.

There was also an old filing cabinet in the corner of the room and despite the instant temptation to sit in the chair Ryan headed over to this first, opening each draw too see what, if anything, was inside, certain that it at least couldn’t be another rat, though that didn’t stop him being slightly more cautious. Finding each draw to be empty he turned and looked out the window, admiring the view and the way the sky had changed colour since he entered the factory. He thought to himself that when he got home he might try and paint it. Art was his favourite class in school and his teachers had all said he was good at it. And then his heart skipped a beat. Home. He was meant to be back before it got dark. He had forgotten with all the fun he had been having exploring the factory. He hurried to the door of the office and pulled it open, about to run out and leave the factory when he stopped in the doorway, turning slowly to look back at the chair. Surely he could just quickly sit in it and see what it was like to sit there in the big chair. He could spare just a quick few minutes.

Ryan walked over to the desk and settled himself into the chair; it was soft and seemed to settle to his weight perfectly making it extremely comfortable. The leather also seemed to be strangely warm despite the cool air wafting through the factory. Ryan span around in the chair a few times before pretending he was shouting orders to his imaginary workers. He was loudly telling them that they weren’t working fast enough, shouting at them and telling them they needed to do better. He stood up on the chair and shouted across the offices at an imaginary man in the back, pleased to hear the way his voice echoed around the empty air.

Then from behind him came the screech of metal on metal, loud and chilling, it came from where the filling cabinet was sitting. Ryan span around, still stood on the chair with a chill crawling up his spine. The chair rocked as he moved, making him lose his balance. He stumbled, flailing his arms about trying to find something to steady himself on, found nothing and fell backwards. The world slowed for a second as he fell but then a sharp pain split the side of his head, a crack resonated around him and the world went black.

When Ryan awoke his head hurt worse than it had ever hurt before and when he reached up to feel the spot where it had hit the table he felt a huge lump under his hair as well as something sticky. Looking at his fingers he saw red clinging to them and realised he had been bleeding. He started to panic his breath coming hard and fast, catching in his lungs at points. He sat there almost in tears for a few minutes before he managed to calm himself and regain some sense.

When he finally regained some control he got to his feel and looked around and thought he was going to have another panic attack. The room was dark, the window that had previously let in all the light of the outside was now broken, shards of smashed glass sticking up from the frame and a few boards had been nailed across the frame to cover it, though by the look of them they had been there for a while. The desk was now leaning diagonally as one side of it had rotted away to the point where it had broken and the chair Ryan had stood on was not a tattered mess. The leather, which had been almost pristine, was now all but peeled away. The stuffing was damp and grey, spilling out of several holes and onto the floor. Ryan also noticed the filing cabinet, now battered, missing all its draws and lying on its side. Ryan felt his breath catching in his throat. How could it all have changed he thought? It wasn’t like this before, it wasn’t.

He hurried from the room as quickly as he could and out into the office that had been filled with cubicles. Just like the first office this one now seemed completely different. The few dividers that remained were toppled over and broken; the fabric on them was worn and rotten away with age. The desks were all missing now, with nothing but marks on the filthy floor to show where they had been. There were also stains on the walls, long, greasy looking marks that ran down from skirting board to skirting board. Where they had before been a clean white in colour they were now a dirty grey, covered in marks and peeling where water had leaked in.

Ryan again rushed through this room and out onto the staircase, planning on rushing down it and out the door but he had to grab onto the hand rail as he reached the first stair to avoid falling down the hole that had appeared. The staircase was now completely covered in rust, the missing piece of it lay on the floor of the factory, fifteen feet below fractured upwards like a spiked pit. Ryan stared out over the factory floor and gasped.

The darkness had filled in where before the light had streamed in from outside. Shadows now covered the walls and where before there had been beams of light that had played with the dust that hung in the air and made it dance now the shadows that hung thick from the ceiling and covered the floor. The dust still circled in the air but now it only gave the illusion that the shadows were moving, slowly crawling across the machinery and the conveyor belts, shying away from the light like some demented jungle creature. Where the ivy that had crept through the windows had glowed and emerald in the sunlight it now seemed thicker and looked slimy as the low light reflected off the damp than clung to it, giving the vines the look of tendrils forcing themselves through the cracks, gripping the walls as if a sea serpent had slipped from the ocean like some horror movie and now gripped to the side of the factory, hauling it back to the sea.

The smell of earth had gone and had been replaced by a stench of mould and rot but it was also tinted with something bitter and foul that lingered at the back of his throat and almost made him gag as it filled his lungs. The sound of the wind not seemed like a distant scream as floated round the factory, chilling Ryan to the bone and making his breath mist in front of his face. The supports of the factory, which Ryan had before thought looked like ribs, now seemed to curve inwards in the darkness, making the entire factory feel like the chest of some mighty monster.

Ryan felt cold sweat trickle down his back and realised he had to escape the factory and now. Looking down the staircase Ryan could only see one way down the stairs, he would have to grip the rail, carefully placing his feet on the side of the stairs where it hadn’t broken away.it would be dangerous but it was the only way. Slowly Ryan started to edge his way down the side of the stairs. The metal groaned loudly under his weight and dust started to drift out of the wall where the supports strained to pull themselves free. Occasionally small chips of metal would fall out from the stairs as the rust and strain finally defeated them. The wind that flowed through the factory felt like it had suddenly turned against Ryan, pushing him backwards towards the holes in the stairs. The sound of the wind changed from a scream to a cheer, urging itself to push Ryan down and to his death.

Ryan pulled himself onwards however and neared the bottom of the stairs when finally the stairs seemed to give way and the supports pulled themselves from the wall. Creaking and moaning the structure slowly started to collapse on itself. Panicking Ryan did the first thing that came to his mind and leapt from his positions on the stairs and down onto the floor, his legs giving way under the impact. The stairs smashed loudly to the floor, snapping and bending under the weight of the rest of the metal. The shadows on the wall seemed to swirl in the rising cloud of dust forming evil faces for split seconds, menacing in their visage and wafting away before Ryan could be sure he had seen it. A few stray bolts clattered across the floor, bouncing off the metal and making a sound that resembled that of a high pitched laugh.

Ryan lay on the cold, filthy ground trying to catch his breath and calm his heart again. Ryan could only look at the tumbled staircase and think how close he had been to going down with it and being crushed. Even if that hadn’t killed him he would be stuck there without help. The realisation suddenly dawned on him that he was lying in in the shadows, covered in the muck of the factory; his knee had taken a hard knock when he hit the ground and his shoulder was aching to match the throb that had been in his head since his fall. The shadows around him had suddenly seemed to grow very still since his fall and Ryan grew chill, they were watching him, waiting to see what he would do. Like animals circling wounded prey.

Ryan knew that he had to run; he had to get away from here as fast as he could. He would slip through the door, dive through the hole in the fence and wouldn’t stop running till he was home and safe in his bed. He pulled himself up from the ground, feeling himself sticking to something, in his panic he thought that the floor itself was holding on to him, trying to pin him down. Ryan wrenched himself free and ran. Dodging round the conveyor belts and other machinery piled on the ground. The shadows seemed to curl and move around him trying to hold out wispy arms to grab hold of him but Ryan burst past them. Reaching the front of the factory he looked up, expecting to see his jacket still hanging between the doors, stuck on something outside, but what he saw made his heart sinking in his chest.

His jacket was lying on the floor, torn to tatters. It lay a few feet from the door as if it had been pulled loose from where it had stuck and been hurled away by someone, or something. The door itself stood tall and solid and clearly closed. Ryan rushed to it, screaming to himself in his head that it couldn’t be true and he was just seeing things. He pushed at it with all his might, tried pulling on it, hammered on it with his fists and kicked at it but there was no way that he could move it. Ryan felt tears starting to flow freely from his eyes and he screamed loudly in as much frustration as fear. How could the door have closed? But now he felt he was trapped. He thought of trying the windows but they were boarded up as the window in the office had been and that at least was how they had always been. Even if he could pull a board away he would cut himself to pieces on the shards of glass as he climbed through.

Ryan whipped the tears from his eyes and looked around watching the shadows circling around him, their sleek forms seeming to creep down the walls and across the floor. Even the ivy now seemed to be bending his way. Then he saw it, something that gave him hope. There was a shadow down the end of the corridor he had walked down earlier. No it wasn’t a shadow. It was a silhouette. A human silhouette. Ryan realised in an instant, it must be Tommy come to get him out!

Ryan ran towards him, why hadn’t Tommy found him earlier? It didn’t matter he would know a way out of here and then he could go home. Ryan ran down the corridor but as he got closer Tommy turned and ran away from him. Ryan called after him and started to run harder but Tommy easily outpaced him. Ryan chased him back into the room with the engine. The room was not very large and Ryan could see that there was nowhere for Tommy to hide. But he was not there

Ryan was confused now, he was scared and he was alone. He turned and was about to start walking back down the corridor, getting desperate enough to try one of the windows, see if he could knock some glass out of one and make it safe to escape through, when suddenly the engine behind

him started to rumble. At first it only growled quietly but it grew louder and louder, reaching a roar that filled the room and echoed down the corridor. The engine started to shake with the force of the mechanism inside and the stench of petrol filled Ryan’s nostrils. Ryan stood terrified of what was happening. He needed to run but he was rooted to the spot. Finally he managed to force himself to turn away, running headlong down the corridor chased by the roar of the machine behind him. The further down the corridor he got the more the sound of the engine was replaced by a new sound. A rhythmic thumping that was, if possible, even louder. He finally reached the main floor of the factory, terrified of what he might see. Of what could be making that noise.

The heart of the factory had started to beat. The pounding filled his ears, so loud it rattled his teeth. It sounded like fireworks being set off right beside his head, a monotonous thump-thump thump-thump. The sound echoed around the entire room, from the ribcage ceiling to the slick murky floors. Ryan glanced up and saw to his horror that the ribs of the factory were not just ribs but they had now become claws that were visibly bending in towards him, long skeletal fingers that lead the shadows down from the ceiling to grasp at him.

Desperately Ryan ran for the only way out he could see. He wrenched urged himself into motion, almost tripping as he dashed to the closest window. The window was boarded up but the glass behind the boards was broken, if only he could get the boards away then Ryan could clamber out and be free. He didn’t even care if he got cut by the glass as long as he was out. He grabbed a hold of the bottom board and pulled with all the strength he had left, desperately trying to wrench the board free. But the wood held firm. The nails keeping it on the frame didn’t move and inch and despite the rotten, worn look of the wood the plank didn’t so much as bend. Almost hysterical Ryan tried again and again to pull the board free but it still refused to move. Warm tears flooded his eyes as he looked through the gaps in the window, straining his eyes in the dark to see if there was anyone out there. His heart skipped a beat as he saw there was a figure standing in the street and as they moved under a street light he saw that it was his mother! She must have gotten worried and come looking for him. Pushing his mouth between the gaps in the boards he screamed for her, straining his voice over the thumping of the heart. From the distance between them his mother should have been able to hear his hysterical cry for help. Ryan called again and again but to his dismay, when he looked his mother was looking up and down the street, clearly having not heard him. He called again and his mother looked up briefly, she turned and gave the factory a glance before she turned and walked on down the street.

Ryan fell to his knees, tears now running freely down his face. He had nothing left he could try, he was trapped. Why had he not listened to his mother? Why had he allowed himself to enter

the factory? And where was Tommy? Had he entered after him? Had he already been caught by whatever it was that was that pursued him. As these thoughts swirled around Ryan’s head another shadow rose up the wall, taller and darker than the others. The shadow swirled and formed into a very familiar face. Tommy’s face. It looked down at Ryan and sneered, a familiar expression to the one he had worn when he first startled Ryan, but now it was cruel and full of malice and Ryan realised how he had been lured into the factory. How whatever was in the factory had waited for someone like him to lure into its lair.

The shadows moved around him, surrounding him and slowly advancing towards their prey. They closed the gap and started to creep up Ryan’s legs, twisting themselves around him like the ivy that had slithered up the walls. Ryan finally found his voice and let out a scream.

Outside the factory was as it had ever been. The street was deserted and silent. No thumping heart. No screams. Nothing.

It was Summer

Woo, more first drafts! This one is hot off the press, I literally finished writing it and uploaded it. Maybe one day i shall edit this but for now enjoy the rough draft, I quite like it for once.

 

It was summer, you just had to step outside and you could smell it on the air. The cool breeze brought with it the sweet smell of freshly bloomed flowers and the laughter of children as they played in the street. The little caule de sac was full of them, running back and forth with hose pipes and super soakers drenching each other and enjoying the sensation of the water, softening the heat from the sun. all the parents were gathered around the one house, the barbecue blazing away and emitting the smell of charcoal to compete with the flowers. There were smiles on everyone’s faces and nobody even looked twice as a car pulled up outside one house and a tall, handsome boy stepped out. He looked around and smiled at the scene, before bending low and pulling a bottle of wine from the back seat of his car.

Emily was sat alone in her house. She was looking across her living room at the TV but she didn’t even register that the TV itself wasn’t switched on. Her eyes were blank, deep in thought and when the doorbell rang she almost jumped out of her skin. Sheepishly she moved slowly to the hallway and stood staring at the front door, reluctant to open it until the doorbell rang again and she was forced into action. Tim was at the door, earlier than they had agreed but he had a huge smile on his face and as he walked into her home he gave her a peck on the cheek and offered her the bottle of wine. Emily declined the drink and lead him through to the living room where she sat down on the settee and he sat beside her, wrapping one arm over her shoulders and pulling her in close.

‘So how have you been Em’s? I didn’t think it would be so long for you to want to see me again.’

‘You’re early’ Emily replied. She tried to affect a smile and failed.

‘I couldn’t wait to see you again, you don’t look best pleased to see me.’ Replied Tim, his smile broadening.

‘I guess…’ started Emily, looking for something to reply with but finding nothing.

‘You OK Em’s? you’re a little slow today’

‘I’m fine just…thinking about something on the TV’

Tim turned to look at the blank screen of the television before turning back to Emily, confused.

‘I turned it off when you got here.’ replied Emily, trying again for a smile and this time managing a small one.

‘Well what was it about’

‘Oh…nothing really’

There was silence for a minutes before Tim spoke up

‘Well I hope you didn’t invite me over just for small talk cos, to be frank, you suck at it Emily’

Then he leaned in close to her and pressed his mouth to hers. Emily pushed him away and but her persisted and pulled her closer.

‘Wait…no wait’ she managed to say and he finally let her go

‘What Em? This is why I’m here isn’t it?’

‘…how about that drink after all?’ she said, managing her small smile again

‘Good idea, maybe it’ll loosen you up a bit.’

Emily went to the kitchen with the bottle of wine and, making sure to take her time, grabbed two glasses from the shelf and poured two generous portions. She paused looking at the half empty bottle and then grabbed her glass and drained the contents in a few gulps before pouring herself another large portion, which she then drank some of before picking up the glasses and heading back to the living room.

Tim was lounging on the settee, making himself at home and when she entered he smiled at her again and took the offered drink. He had a sip from his glass and turned back to see that Emily had half finished her glass already. He smiled again

‘Either you’re really thirsty of you’re looking for some liquid courage Emily, what’s the matter? You worried?’

‘No I’m just…I’m not worried, maybe a little nervous.’

‘Nervous? But why? It’s not like it’s the first time. And you liked it so much last time, that’s why you invited me back, I know what you like’

And Tim pulled her close again, wrapping one arm around her and holding her tight as he kissed her again, pushing his tongue into her mouth. The other arm slowly moved down her back and settled on her arse, squeezing tightly. Emily tried to go with it, tried to enjoy it but it wasn’t long before she was pushing him off of her again. Or trying to. Tim’s grip on her refused to loosen and the harder she seemed to force it the harder he seemed to hold on. Emily tried to say something, to object again but it was hard with his tongue stuffed into her mouth and his weight slowly pressing down on her. In the end she had to bite down on him to get him to finally pull away.

‘Jesus what the fuck Emily? I know you enjoy it rough but fucking hell bitch’

‘I was trying to say…’ Emily panted out ‘Not here…’

‘Then where? You wanna go to the back of my car again?’ demanded Tim

‘No I mean…not up here, I can’t make a mess, let’s go downstairs’

Being interrupted had always been a pet peeve of Emily’s and even under the circumstances she felt her anger rising at Tim. In response Tim smiled stupidly at her, like a vast coin had just dropped for him.

‘Oh right, I get it, you wanna keep us secret then’ he said with a smirk

‘Yea, that’s right come on.’ Replied Emily and she stood, downed the rest of her drink and then, leading Tim by the hand, headed to the basement.

Emily’s basement was a basement in name alone. The wooden stairs down were clean and well-kept with a small red carpet that ran down the middle of them to help keep your footing. The room itself was clear and well-lit with three different lights and the floor, though uncovered was polished wood with plenty of space to move around. At one point Emily’s dad had wanted to make it into a recreation room and at the far end there was a projector screen pulled down on which he had planned to show movies but had never gotten round to it.

Emily grabbed a few rugs from a corner and lay them across the floor while Tim walked around examining the room.

‘Nice little place you have here, would be great for a man cave…’ he said as he turned back.

Emily was slowly unbuttoning her shirt and watching him and he smiled again as she exposed her bra.

‘Or maybe just a little love nest.’ He finished.

He smiled at Emily, knowing what was about to happen, she tried to smile back

‘Now we get down to the rough stuff’ he said, advancing on her

She backed away

‘No point in running, this happens now’ said Tim, lifting up his shirt.

He almost had his shirt over his head when the thing emerged from behind the projector screen.

It was big and grotesque, beyond describable as anything but a horror from some twisted imagination. One arm reached out and grabbed Tim by the top of the head as another wrapped round him and plunged long clawed fingers deep down his throat. Blood bubbled up and spilled on the floor and with hardly any effort the creature pulled Tim’s jaw away, throwing it to the floor by Emily’s feat and splattering her with blood. Then it moved its head around and sank it’s hellish jaws deep into the wound it had made. There was a gurgling sound and blood flowed like a waterfall down Tim’s chest and pooled on the floor. Finally the thing ripped its head free, bringing with it a chunk from Tim’s neck which it devoured in seconds.

Tim’s corpse dropped to the floor and the thing crouched low over it, moving it’s hand over the remnants of its face before looking up towards Emily. She backed into a wall and stared, terrified, unable to move and just stared back at the nightmarish scene that had just taken place in front of her.

‘Please…don’t hurt me’ she managed at last

The thing smiled.

‘Why would I hurt you?’ it replied, Tim’s voice issuing from its fiendish lips ‘You helped me, fed me, don’t you know you don’t bite the hand that feeds you?’

‘I’m so sorry…’ Emily stammered.

‘Sorry for this thing?’ the creature said, indicating to Tim’s body.

It bent low and clamped its mouth over one of Tim’s staring eyes in some disgusting parody of a kiss and when it pulled away more blood was oozing from its lips and Tim’s eye was gone.

‘This one had some horrendous intentions for you, but I think you knew that. It’s better this way.’

Emily didn’t know whether to run of throw up

‘don’t worry about the mess by the way, I’ll deal with it, I don’t want to miss a drop of this.

The Fish Market

Not sure where the idea came from for this little piece, but I wanted to make up sort of a little world where fantasy esque creatures are thrust into a real world and how they get by and of course I had to put a weird little spin on it. I don’t even know what genre I would put this into but I kinda like it all the same. As always it needs some polish.

 

The rain started suddenly and without warning, falling in thick, icy sheets that quickly made a river out of the roads and soaked anything that was unfortunate enough to be caught out in it. People ran for cover, animals found shelter wherever they could and sat looking sadly up at the sky. Any who could avoid going outside did so and the few that were forced outside covered themselves as best they could. The streets emptied quickly so there was no one to pay any attention to a lone figure walking slowly and calmly down the pavement. He was a short man, dressed in a long coat and a wide brimmed fedora which, though both originally grey, turned black in the rain and must have done little to protect the man from the fierceness of the weather.

Unperturbed the figure carried on his steady pace down the road, even pausing at one point, offering a hand out to a dog that hid beneath an upturned crate in an alley, but the dog refused to move. Chuckling to itself the figure moved on down the street. Passing a small oriental restaurant the man looked into the window, inspecting the clientele. Almost all of the inhabitants within were younger of between the teenage and young adult age group, certainly no one over thirty, and each seemed to be wearing an assortment of clothes inappropriate for the weather and that would have been considered odd in the era they were originally made in. hanging around in small groups they were laughing and joking with their friends and not one of them seemed to notice the figure, soaked through, staring through the window. Staring up at the sign that hung above the door and proclaimed in Japanese that the restaurant was Asian Oceans, the man chucked to himself again before continuing round the side of the building, making no effort to avoid puddles as it went, and entering the dimly lit alleyway behind it.

Heading down the alley the figure came to a door painted bright red that lead to the back of the restaurant. The man knocked twice on the red slide on the door and waited, the slide was drawn back and a set of eyes peered out into the rain, taking a good measure of the figure stood before him. The figure greeted him in Japanese and tipped his hat back so that the man inside could get a clear look at his face. The man inside returned the greeting and slide closed. After a few seconds there was the sound of a bolt being drawn back and then the door swung open.

The figure stepped inside and removed his hat. What was revealed when the hat was removed would have put the chills up the spine of any normal human being. The man’s flesh was pale and clammy, seeming to hang off the man’s head and giving the impression that it was too big for the body it covered. It was completely bald, lacking even eyebrows and the sunken eyes were farther apart than they should have ever been. A pale yellow in colour the iris on each was far too large and the nose on the face was flat and small to the point of hardly being there at all. As the man looked around it took a few deep gasps of air before letting out a deep, throaty cough and then smiling with a mouth too wide. There was the sound of a bell from the other side of the room that the man had entered and a door swung open and the man who had opened the door walked in. The strange looking figure had a brief glance of the restaurant kitchen and through a serving window, the front of the restaurant through the open door before the man who had entered lammed it shut quickly.

The man who had entered was Asian, with a shaven head, dressed in a white tee shirt and black slacks with a tea towel shoved through his belt. He was unassuming in every way. Entering the back room he looked at the figure and shouted something in Japanese, pointing to a hat stand that stood by the door. The figure waved his hand dismissively, revealing long pale figure, webbed fingers, and removed his coat.

If the man’s facial features were alarming then what was under his coat was terrifying. He was completely naked, the pale and clammy appearance of his skin continuing down his entire body making his look old and wrinkled, the skin sagging unpleasantly. His knees and elbows were further down his limbs than they should have been and the Asian man saw at a glance that he was missing any obvious genitals. On the man’s neck there were three deep gauges in the flesh on either side that expanded with every breath taken, gills. The stench that radiated from the man as soon as his coat was removed was a pungent mixture of rotten fish and salt and as he hung his coat up on the hook he make a nauseous squelching sound.

Just then the door to an old and grimy looking fridge that stood to the side of the room swung open and out stepped a small man, also Asian, in traditional black attire. He looked around and saw the pale man. Smiling widely he hurried forward and bowed low. The pale man responded with a simple tip of his head before motioning to the fridge the man had emerged from and asking in slow Japanese

‘Shall we?’

The small man in black nodded ecstatically and responded

‘Yes, right away’

The two figures stepped through the fridge door and entered a long flight of steps leading down and twisting so that they end was concealed. The walls were compact dirt with seemingly little thought to stability and they were lit by small lanterns that hung from the ceiling, a fire blazing away curiously brightly inside each one.

‘It has been a while Mr Lawrence’ the small Asian man said in a friendly tone ‘you used to come more regularly, not found preference somewhere else I hope’

The pale man, Mr Lawrence let out a small giggle before replying

‘Where else could I go Mr Himitsu? You’re establishment is the best in town.’

They both laughed at this before rounding a corner and entering into a vast cavern. The walls were the same compact dirt but this cavern was bustling with activity. Many people were walking around several of them were naked like Mr Lawrence, with the same clammy skin but some of these were various colours, others had sail like fins running down their backs but all appearing to be male. Many other people were dressed like the kitchen worker from above them, running back and forth carrying large crates of unknown contents. Round the walls there were wooden shacks painted in bright colours with vibrant patterns, many of them built back into the walls themselves and all windowless, the doorways covered by bright cloth curtains. By the side of these shacks were large pools of water in which many of the naked man were relaxing, as if in a hot tub but without the bubbles.

By the far wall there was a rope pulley system and as the pair watched one of the workmen attached a crate to the rope and gave it a quick tug and soon the crate was being hoisted up towards the hole in the ceiling through which the rope was coming.

‘Would you like your usual tub Mr Lawrence? Or were you planning on being adventurous today?’

‘The usual will be fine Himitsu, how long will I be waiting?’

‘It might be a short wait sir, as you can see the weather has made us busy today.’

Mr Lawrence was lead towards a tub by the side of a large turquoise hut with a yellow wave pattern on the which he eased himself down into an let out a sigh of relaxation.

‘Is there anything I might get you while you wait Mr Lawrence? A drink perhaps?’

‘No thank you Himitsu, you said yourself that the wait won’t be long’

‘Not long at all sir, another customer is just finishing up now.’

Then a bell rang from somewhere high up in the roof of the cavern and Himitsu bowed and walked away leaving Mr Lawrence alone. The bald man let himself slip a little further into the tub and placed his hands behind his head, closing his eyes and listening to the bustle of activity around him. His peace was not long lasting though as there was a loud cracking sound from the back of the cavern followed by some shouting in Japanese. Mr Lawrence looked up and gazed towards the back of the cavern where there was an especially large pool but rather than more people it was filled with large smooth black orbs about the size of a football which reflected the light of the torched that surrounded the pool.

A large crack had appeared in the side of one of these orbs and as Mr Lawrence watched it shuddered and a piece of the orb fell away into the water clearly revealing something inside moving. As Mr Lawrence watched as a man in a workman’s jumpsuit ran over and picked the orb out of the water reaching inside the hole he pulled away the outer shell and revealed what was inside. The creature was about a foot long, a dark grey in colour looking like a huge slug but with hardly a tail and very discernable arms and legs. As it was pulled from its shell it looked up with a grotesque parody of a human face, opened its bulbous black eyes and let out an ear splitting cry that filled the cavern. It howled like a child but with a sickening tone to its voice that sent a chill through an already cold cave. The workman grabbed it by its tail and carried it nonchalantly off to a small side cavern that lead off the main one and out of site, taking what looked to be a huge cleaver off a hook on the wall as he went. The crying continued for what seemed to be an age once the two were out of sight and Mr Lawrence sat and watched the entrance to the cavern until the cry was suddenly cut off by a sick thudding sound and a squelch.

‘Mr Lawrence, If you are ready Miss Gao will see you now’ Himitsu had reappeared and bowed low, indicating one of the huts around the edge of the cavern

‘Thank you’ replied Mr Lawrence, heaving his grotesque body up out of the Jacuzzi and slowly. On the way over to the indicated hut Mr Lawrence saw the man who had carried off the spawn from the egg walking across the cavern and placed a dripping sack into a bucket that had lowered from the ceiling. Giving the rope a quick tug he stood back as the bucket rose up towards the ceiling. Mr Lawrence smiled and entered the hut. Inside was decorated in blue and pink ribbons and the floor was covered in similarly covered cushions. Across these cushions a woman was sprawled, barely covered in the same ribbons that covered the walls she looked up as Mr Lawrence entered and smiled slyly. No words were said; she just adjusted her position slightly and pulled away the ribbons to reveal herself to him. Her body was the same pale, soggy looking skin as Mr Lawrence, sagging in repulsively and the stench of salt and oil was overwhelming. Mr Lawrence smiled and dropped to his knees in front of her.

As Mr Lawrence left the restaurant a few hours later he took his time to slowly was around the front and glance in at the people sat at the tables. Every single one of them laughing and smiling, joking with friends as they devoured huge platefuls of sushi. Mr Lawrence smiled too. If people only knew what went into their food.

Munchies at Midnight.

So when I was bored at work today ( as I often am) I set myself a little writing task. I haven’t ever writen a transformation scene before and decided to add as much unnessesary gore as I could. I guess there would usually be more to this story but for now this is all I have, may add to it later. Not really much to say on this so…enjoy?

Keith sat in his armchair and stared at the TV. He wasn’t watching what was happening on the screen, he couldn’t focus. Occasionally his eyes would dart to the window and stare for a few moments out into the darkness that enveloped the moors outside until he saw one of them moving before he quickly looked back at the screen. The shutter to the garage was open and a cool breeze rolled in and sent the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Keith clenched his fists. He was nervous and when he was nervous he couldn’t help but clench his fists, it was old habit and he had never been able to kick it. Not that it really seemed to matter, at least it was harmless. His stomach rumbles and Keith considers going to the fridge and grabbing something quick to eat, but he could hardly convince his legs to move. Anyway he would eat soon enough.

Try as he might Keith couldn’t stop his mind wandering. He thought about the poor couple whose car he had serviced as they came through his station. They had been a nice pair, had paid him and even tipped, they had smiled at him and joked, even offered him some of the food they had had in their car but he had refused. The woman was pretty, she was very pretty. Her summer frock had been blown about in the wind a bit and the man, tall, strong man, had made a joke about Marilyn Monroe. Keith had tried not to look. He had warned them to avoid being out after dark and they had joked about that too. Stupid people.

There was movement at the window again and Keith looked over to see a pair of yellow eyes staring in at him. He looked away and a few moments later the eyes were gone. Your stomach moans again but not because of the lack of food this time. Sweat starts to form on his brow and Keith wipes it away before undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. Outside he can hear them padding around on the concrete surface of the garage out front. He had left the shutter open. Switching off the TV he wasn’t clenching his fists now, he was shaking, finding it hard to even hold the remote. Keith stood and started to cross the room on unstable legs, intending to switch the light off.

And then the pain hit him. A burning, searing pain that ripped through Keith’s stomach like a knife and was so intense he was thrown to the floor. He let out a scream of agony and ripped at his shirt, pulling the fabric from his body with inhuman strength and hurling it across the room. More eyes were at the window now. Small amber specs that stared in at him with grim amusement as the moonlight shone down upon their owners. Keith grabbed for the ever tightening waistline of his jeans, desperate to get them off as well but he was bent backwards as another pain ripped his back. There was a loud snapping and cracking as his vertebra cracked and twisted, warping and stretching into a whole new shape. Keith let out another scream that became a gargled cough as blood spilled from his gaping mouth, bringing with teeth that had been forced from his gums by new sharp fangs. The muscles beneath his skin strained against their confinement as they grew and new hair started to sprout in tufts from all over his body.

The lining of Keith’s jeans finally gave up under the strain and burst, leaving nothing but shreds clinging to the rapidly mutating body. Fingernails dropped from clutching hands as new claws started to tear through the skin and the bones in Keith’s legs snapped to pieces as new bone underneath forced their way through, twisting Keith’s legs into a new shape. His bottom jaw stretched outwards, his new fangs protruding upwards and his screams of pain became simple guttural, feral moans before his top jaw followed suit. Finally his skin, which had been straining and stretching under the growth of new muscles finally failed and it split like the seams of the jeans had. First the thighs gave way, ripping apart and unleashing a torrent of blood, then came the back soon after, splitting down the spins and allowing the new form to push through. Finally the skin around Keith’s face split, first at the corner of the mouth, giving him a gaping Glasgow smile, then the rest of the face tore away, leaving just a bestial snarl looking outwards. Blood burst from the shredded remnants of Keith’s body and the floor and walls were covered.

The thing that was left in the ruins that had been Keith slumped to the ground, hair matted and slick with blood and still quivering as it finished the last of its metamorphosis. Its snout sniffed the air, trying to find the scent of its pack mates and finally locating them outside the door to the room in which it lay. Its clawed hands wiped blood from its face in a bizarrely human act and its amber eyes regarded the room. Slowly it raised itself to its feet and looked around before rearing up onto its hind legs. The blood soaked beast was massive; standing almost eight feet all when reared up it crossed the room in just a few steps and threw its weight against the door, throwing it open.