Me: I just love it when the paragraphs get all bunched up. It really makes my day. Insert stupid question here. Why are they called Easter eggs? Is it because you have to search to find them?
I've always been a fan of Easter eggs and weird goofs hidden in movies. Like any super mature guy, what gets me the most are those naughty secret images and things hidden in children's movies. You know, the priest's erection in The Little Mermaid, the topless woman on that one VHS edition of The Rescuers, SEX in the sky in The Lion King (although that one's legitimacy is debatable...)Well, I heard from an Internet friend that there's one in Coraline. Now, Coraline isn't just a kid's movie. It's a pretty scary movie, and on top of the scariness there's even a little bit of risque material---the burlesque dancer neighbors come to mind. But my friend told me that there's a secret image hidden in the movie that was just some animator's idea of fun, nothing naughty or sexual. It's in the scene where Coraline's Other Mother is cracking an egg in the frying pan---if you zoom in on the egg yolk while it's suspended in midair, you can see Jack Skellington's head (Nightmare Before Christmas)...
Me: Lucky you with your ginormous TV. I did watch the movie but I don't have the DVD. Maybe I'll check to see if I can get a good deal because it is a great movie. Maybe that's why I went all Lalaloopsy crazy because they have the button eyes and are just so fucking cute.
Anyway, I pulled out my DVD and popped it in my 64 inch TV. I went to the scene and paused the movie, then zoomed.
There it was. The faint yet unmistakable head of Jack Skellingon suspended in the yellow yolk of an egg. I was about to eject the DVD when I noticed something right below Jack's head, right at the bottom of the yolk. It looked like a faint string of words, but I couldn't make them out... Maybe they weren't even words. The movie quality at this zoomed in point was way to fuzzy, and it could have been just a shadow or some kind of tiny imperfection in whatever material the egg was made from...
I mentioned it to my friend online.
Me: Am I an idiot for never thinking about looking for hidden stuff? I watch. I enjoy. That's it.
"It COULD be words," he said. "Maybe it's a phone number or something."
Yeah, but I was thinking it was probably some kind of props note or label that didn't totally erase from the egg. My friend told me I should download an HD version anyway and maybe I could see more clearly if the fuzzy line was words or if it was nothing.
Well, I went ahead and torrented an HD version. (Sorry, Laika and Focus Features! I promise I bought the DVD legitimately...I just needed this version for scholarly research...) Again, I zoomed in as far as I could on my computer, and there was Jack Skellington's head, much clearer and defined this time. And below it, there WERE words.
Me: This seems like a lot of work but hey as long as I don't have to do it I'm okay with it.
But I still couldn't read them..I could make out the fuzzy shapes, but I couldn't zoom in any more. Well, now comes the good part about Internet friends. Whoever you talk to on the Internet could literally be anyone with all sorts of different connections, and my friend told me he knew a guy who worked at Laika and helped oversee the conversion from the original theatrical digital file to the various home entertainment files/mediums, and this guy could potentially have access to the original Coraline movie file, which would of course be the most HD version of the movie there was.
Well, my friend got back to me a few days later, and he said the guy he knew had a personal copy of the original file at his home in Oregon, and he'd show it to us if wanted to see it, but it was too big/copyrighted to send over the Internet. Now, I live in Washington state, which isn't too far away from Oregon, but did I really want to drive several hours just to sate my curiosity?
Me: No wonder I stay home and rarely go out.
The answer, it turns out, is yes. The restaurant I work at got big time slammed by the health department and had to close for a week. Apparently the state doesn't like customers with 6 legs crawling around in the cooler...
So now I had a week of total free time with nothing to do, and the idea of meeting my online friend and watching his friend's copy of the original Coraline movie file sounded even more tantalizing. So we set a day to meet and a time that worked for my friend's friend to show us the movie, and I was off to Oregon.
My friend---his name's Kael---lives in Veneta, Oregon, a small town about three and a half hours from where I live in Washington. Was I a little nervous to meet him? After all, we'd only ever talked online on various movie and anime forums. Yes, I was a little nervous, but I had met people from the Internet before in real life and they'd been perfectly fine. There's just always that little bit of nervousness, because you have no idea who the human behind the screen name is. There are just so many possibilities.
Anyway, I drove down to Veneta on a Wednesday, Kael's day off. We were supposed to meet at the Taco Time in Veneta at noon, but I arrived and waited for an hour and a half and no one showed up. He wasn't responding to my texts, and I was worried that I had wasted all of that gas and time just to be blown off by a trolling pasty-faced Code Red-blooded asshole.
Well, just as I was getting ready to leave, this super tall skinny guy in a lime green hoodie showed up. He wore glasses and had shaggy black hair and looked to be in his low to mid thirties. He made a beeline for my table.
"Matt?" he said.
Me: Red flag?
"Yeah, Kael?" I responded. I hadn't actually ever seen a picture of him, but I was assuming it was him.
"Actually Kael couldn't make it...I'm his friend Ricardo. I work at Laika."
Oh...so no Kael. Hmm.
"Is Kael okay?" I asked. "He hasn't responded to any of my texts."
"Yeah, he's fine, just got called in to work," the guy, Ricardo, said. "Works at a daycare, and one of the helpers got sick and they needed him."
"He works at a daycare?" I snorted before I could catch myself. I gave a small rueful smile. "I mean, that's a totally cool job, I just didn't expect Kael to work at a daycare."
"Yeah, he's sorry he couldn't make it."
"He could have at least let me know..." I was kind of pissed. I drove all this way and didn't even get to meet Kael. This guy Ricardo better show me the movie...
"I can still show you the movie file, if you want," Ricardo said. He was super fidgety, darting his eyes around the restaurant and constantly pushing his glasses up his nose.
"I mean, sure, I guess. I came all this way," I said. "And I just am really curious what the text on the egg yolk is."
Me: I would have totally looked.
"Oh yeah," he said, giving a weird short little laugh. "I haven't looked myself yet, was just waiting for you and Kael."
"Really?" I said. "I'd be chomping at the bit...I'm a huge conspiracy nut. Even though it's probably nothing and I wasted three and a half hours driving down here."
"Maybe, but it could be something...right?" Ricardo said. His darting eyes suddenly became still focused on my own. "Maybe it's the phone number of some crew member's ex-girlfriend...maybe it says 'Pixar sucks dick!'
Me: Not really a fan of scavenger hunts. Maybe it's because I'm too dumb although I would sure as hell give it a try if books were involved.
"Maybe a clue for some massively secret scavenger hunt."
"Hey now," I said, "Don't get me too excited."
"Let's go find out, then," Ricardo said.
I followed Ricardo in his truck to his house, a small, typically small-town northwestern house. We made our way down into his basement.
Me: Guess what basements can be nice. They got such a bad rap just like bats who are awesome because they eat bugs. I hate bugs.
Ricardo had a nice basement. And I mean nice. First of all, it was huge, and it was finished, basement with super deep and comfy carpet. There was a huge TV, a collection of at least two dozen video game consoles stretched out chronologically, four or five computer stations scattered around, and a gigantic fridge. He handed me a beer.
Me: Well you're Mister Fancy Pants.
"Alright," he said. "Let's go into the projection room." He brought me through a door into another huge room. The ratio of downstairs size to upstairs size was probably like 3 to 1. They must have paid him pretty well at Laika for him to have all this stuff, especially here in the projector room: two rows of super big comfy leather recliners and another gigantic fridge, along with a wall crammed full of framed and autographed movie posters,, and reels stacked all along the walls. He disappeared into a small room, and in a few seconds the projector turned on and a huge rectangle of light hit the projector screen. I sat down in one of the recliners. Thirty seconds later and the opening credits for Coraline popped up. Ricardo came out of the small room and sat down next to me, a remote clutched in his hand. He fast-forwarded through the movie until he got to the egg scene, and then he paused it.
"Oh boy," I said. "Here we go..."
He slowly fast-forwarded frame by frame, the egg in the Other Mother's hands breaking open one frame at a time, the yellow ball of yolk gradually appearing and falling out of the shell.
"Stop," I said. He stopped. There was Jack Skellington's head. "Zoom in right here," I said. He slowly zoomed in. Jack's head was super clear in this version, even zoomed in. All of the imperfections and tiny pockets of light were incredibly visible on the stop motion egg yolk. Ricardo slowly inched down on the frame and stopped when the bottom of the yolk came into sight.
It was text. Ricardo zoomed in even farther. "This is as far as I can go," he said.
Me: I have no idea what that means. I'm just thinking onion but clearly that isn't what this is about.
But I could make it out this time. It was still a tiny bit blurry, but it was a string of letters and numbers. And it ended in the domain .onion. .onion. Tor. The Onion Router. The gateway to the dark and wild fringes of the Internet. So there was a .onion address hidden in Coraline.
What was it? Where did it lead? What kind of website?
Ricardo and I looked at each other.
"So did you ever hear anything about this?" I asked.
"No," he said. "I had no idea." For some reason, I wasn't sure if I believed him.
"Well, maybe we should look up the address," I said.
Me: I hear Tor and think publisher. Is my book love showing? Dude you're just now questioning whether or not this was a good idea? You should have started wondering when the other guy didn't show up and didn't bother to text you?
"Let me grab my Tor computer," he said. He left the projection room. His Tor computer? That he specifically uses for just the Tor browser? I considered my situation suddenly: here I was in the bowels of a stranger's home. I really didn't know Ricardo or anything about him, besides the fact that he worked at Laika. What was with all the computers in his basement?
"Here we go," he said, coming back into the room with a MacBook Pro. He sat down next to me and opened the Tor browser. I had my days of teenage Darknet curiosity, but I never went far on Tor. I'd only ever used the browser a couple of times.
Ricardo squinted up at the screen and slowly began typing in the .onion address embedded at the bottom of the egg yolk. It was silent in the room, save for his typing. This is so weird, I thought.
"And done!" he said. He hit enter. The page began to load at an agonizingly slow pace, due to the Tor browser utilizing hundreds of computers from around the globe.
And then it was done loading. There was a single word on the screen, a blue link in Courier font. ENTER. Ricardo looked at me.
"Sure, why not?" I said. He clicked ENTER.
Oh great, things just got that more cryptic...
There was a photo of some kind of building, a shed almost, under a grey sky and in a clearing surrounded by trees. That was it. The only thing on the site. The one image.
Ricardo turned to me, a wry grin on his face.
Me: The Knight Bus?
"That's the Knight Box."
Me: No clue because my mind went to Harry Potter.
"The Knight Box?" I said. "What's that?"
"Travis Knight---he's the CEO of Laika---goes there to like meditate and do groundwork for films he wants to do."
"So that's it? The CEO's mediation shed?" I was kind of disappointed.
"Yep, apparently," Ricardo said. "Just some inside joke."
But it was still kind of weird... "Then what's it doing with a .onion address?" I asked.
Ricardo shrugged. "Who knows."
I sat there for a few moments, staring at the computer screen, and then back up at the zoomed in yolk on the projector screen.
"Well I guess I'm just going to go then," I said.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I was hoping it'd be something cooler too."
"Yeah, well, it is what it is," I said. "I'll text Kael."
Ricardo stood up. "I'll show you out," he said. We went upstairs.
I paused at the front door.
Me: Dude escape while you're able to.
"Where is this Knight Box?" I asked. "I'm in town, so I may as well go see it."
"Uh, I don't know, Mr. Knight probably doesn't want people poking around there...it's supposed to be a private place."
"I'll just look," I said. "I'm not going to bother anything, especially not if someone's there."
Me: That's not the least bit sketchy.
"Suit yourself," Ricardo said. He pulled out his phone and touched a few keys. He held it out to me. "Here are the coordinates."
How did he have the coordinates so readily available? "Alright, cool," I said, quickly typing them into my own phone.
"And if you, uh, do run into Mr. Knight, please don't mention me," Ricardo said, his eyes darting all around. He seemed nervous.
"I won't," I said. "It was nice meeting you, Ricardo."
"Yeah, bye," he said, going back into the house and closing the door. I didn't know what to make of my afternoon. It was about 3:30ish, the sky grey and a light drizzle in the air. Typical November in Oregon. I got in my car and pulled out of Ricardo's driveway, following the coordinates on my phone.
Me: I have similar experiences when I'm in the grocery store with my little cart. The shopping carts at the store are beasts compared to it and of course you have many people who aren't very observant.
They took me to Siuslaw National Forest, a beautiful and hilly parcel of land. Varying levels of trees dominated the horizon, tendrils of mist oozing in and out of them. I paid at the visitors' center and slowly began driving farther into the park. It was getting mistier, and the guy at the visitors' center warned me about sticking to the trails. I drove on the main road following the coordinates, which were about five miles away according to my phone. The road became narrower and twistier, and a damn pickup almost broadsided me coming fast around a corner. I wondered about this Knight Box. Why would it be in the thick of a national forest? I understood that Mr. Knight wanted to get away and meditate, but did the park service actually allow for a private building by a private citizen on its land?
Me: Good idea to be prepared in case someone finds you wandering around but there's always the chance that the someone that finds you is holding a shotgun.
I was about two-thirds of a mile from the coordinates now, and they were now pointing away from the road, into the trees. I pulled over into a small gravel parking lot and got out of my car. The mist was heavy and the sky was grey and everything was silent. No birds, no wind rustling through the trees, no sounds of other cars. It was kind of unnerving. I found a small unmarked gravel path leading up into the trees with a metal gate in front of it, a sign on in reading in big red letters, WARNING: PRIVATE TRAIL. ALL TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED. I looked back up and down the main road. Surely no would stop by. I was only going to investigate. If caught, I could say I never saw the sign because of the mist...
Me; Why didn't this guy bring a friend with him?
I climbed over the gate and started up the path. The trees arched over me like a tunnel and it was dark. Really dark. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and kept pressing forward, upward, toward. But toward what? I was breathing hard because I was somewhat out of shape, and the gravel path was getting steeper and steeper and narrower and narrower. I wasn't even 100% sure I was still on the path, but then the gravel began widening again and the path began leveling out, and I saw some light in the distance. The trees began thinning out, and soon I emerged into a clearing.
There was a building in the clearing, a few hundred meters in. As I got closer I saw a big ice chest on the outside and a small wooden structure that I recognized as a firewood shed. It looked like this building was or used to be a sort of camping check-in spot or something, with the whole kind of wide triangular roof and what looked like from a distance a sliding window with a ledge. The clearing was super quiet, and it was really getting kind of dark. I realized it was about 5ish, and it would be dark before I knew it. I didn't want to get locked in the park, so I couldn't investigate the building for long. I took a quick picture with my phone of the building.
I reached the building and looked through the windows. If this really was the Knight Box, I had no idea where Travis Knight did his mediation or thinking or storyboarding or whatever he did. There was stuff everywhere, canoes, oars, life jackets, stacks of paper, bundles of firewood, tarps, all sorts of camping-related things. I walked around the entire building but saw nothing that really warranted its importance. I tried the door handle, but it was locked. There was nothing in the little shed either but firewood.
Why would a link to a picture of this shed be hidden in the original Coraline movie file? Why an .onion link too? Night was really coming on now, and I needed to leave before I either got lost or stuck in the park. I started to walk away from the building, but a tiny bit of movement from inside caught my eye. A door---a closet door?---barely visible behind a pile of life jackets pushed open slightly, but the pile of life jackets prevented it from opening further.
Me: Don't do it.
I found myself paralyzed. Fear and wonder were all mixed up together inside my head. Who the hell was in this building? Especially in like a closet? Behind a pile of stuff?
The door pushed open again, harder, and a few life jackets tumbled to the floor. I checked my phone to make sure it still got a signal---I wanted to be able to call 911 if I had to. I had one bar of service...hopefully it would be enough to call for help...
And then from the other side of the clearing---the side opposite where I had come from---I saw a figure moving fast toward me. Oh my god, my heart seized up. I was about to run when I saw something inside the building, something poking out of the closet inside.
Me: Well that isn't creepy at all is it?
A face, barely visible in the darkness, a small pale face with long dark hair. It looked like a little kid, a girl. She pushed forward inside against the life jackets and a few more fell to the ground. More of her body appeared, and I saw that she was naked. She was moving her body hard, wriggling, trying to push her way out of the closet and over the life jackets. Behind her I saw another arm poke out, and then a small head popped out. A boy.
The figure across the meadow was approaching. I had to get out of there. I was terrified. As I was turning to leave, though, I heard a muffled noise from inside the building.
Coming from the person inside, the girl. It was like a moan/scream, and then I noticed something terrifying, something about the girl, something that made me run fast away, not wanting to stick around and find out what the figure running towards me wanted. I ran and ran, away from the building and back onto the gravel path.
Me: Fuck you my identity will remain a mystery so excuse me while I haul ass out of here dude.
"Who are you? Come the fuck back here!" I heard behind me. But I wasn't going back.
Me: That's totally me. It is weird that I'm less likely to fall when I'm read walking. I can't explain it.
I tripped on a protruding root. "Oh shit," I cried out as I fell forward, the gravel slicing against my arms and face. I picked myself up and felt blood on my face. I realized my phone had fallen from my hand, but there was no way I was stopping to look for it. I heard my pursuer behind me, coming fast down the path and yelling, "Stop and talk to me!"
I pushed blindly onward, making my way through the almost total darkness using only my feet to feel out the path. I wasn't even sure I was on the path, the terrain was so steep and bumpy. There were trees all around me, and branches whipped against my face.
Me: This dude is like Jason but with speaking.
God I needed to get to my car. That was the only end goal in my mind. I wasn't even considering what I had just seen in the building. I just knew I had to get to my car and away from whoever was chasing me. I still heard him behind me. I was crying now. I was here in the forest in the middle of nowhere at night, and nobody besides Ricardo knew I was here. The tears and the blood mixed on my face.
And then there were no more trees and I was standing by the road, and there was my car a couple hundred feet away. I ran to it and pulled out my keys, my hands shaking so much I nearly dropped them. I jumped into my car and turned it on, flipping the headlights on and throwing it into drive. I zoomed off down the road, glancing out my window was I went. I saw somebody running back into the trees, but I couldn't make out any details. I just floored it and left Siuslaw, getting an hour away before stopping for gas and a gas station hot dog.
Me: Couldn't you track it with GPS?
And that's what happened that day. You wanna know what happened to Kael and Ricardo? Me too. Heard nothing from them since, which saddens me, especially with Kael. We were friends, and now he's literally disappeared from the Internet. Kael's a pretty unusual name, and I used whitepages.com to look up Kaels in Veneta, but I found no one with that name. I also tried googling "Ricardo Laika DVD", but nothing came up. Maybe Kael and Ricardo were always the same person. I dunno. And I lost my phone, so there went the coordinates for the Knight Box and the .onion url. I really hope whoever was chasing me didn't find my phone. I had some important stuff on there.
Me: Dude don't they sound familiar?
So the restaurant is up and running again, and I the fast-paced environment keeps my mind off of things. I know I probably have a moral obligation, but...I have no proof they were kids. They could have just been nude animatronic dolls or something, maybe something for an upcoming Laika movie. And if they were kids...well, they weren't. They couldn't be. Nobody could sit through the unknowable psychological torment of sewing large black buttons into the eyes of naked children and then locking them in a closet in the middle of a forest. I decided after that day that I will let sleeping dogs lie.
Of course, the question still remains: Why was that .onion url and therefore that image of the Knight Box hidden in the egg yolk in Coraline? Who put it there? Was it a ploy to lead someone there? Did Henry Selick know it was there? I still have questions, but I'm not going to go look. I have nothing to judge Laika or Travis Knight with, and I never will. And I never will return to Siuslaw National Forest. The one photo I took of the building with my phone was saved in the Cloud, and I include it with my story only to show you that even things that appear super mundane can harbor things far outside your expectations, things that may or may not be just plain surreal. That day feels so surreal now, thinking about it. Surreal in the worst of ways. I try not think about it.
And I don't really look for Easter eggs anymore.
Me by Barbara Desmond
Me: I couldn't not think of the last episode of Xena when I saw this title. I suck at titles but of course I know the name of the last episode of this awesome show. Oh yeah I get the whole being desperate thing.
He never expected this kind of thing, nor would he have ever in his whole life. A simple man like Father Kaufmann never would have fathomed such a surprise, especially from one of the men who attended his mass from time to time. Then again, they say that desperate times call for desperate measures.
Another Sunday morning withered away into its grave, allowing the birth of the sunny afternoon in Linz, Austria. The sounds of horses pulling buggies were passing through the roads, but the hunger pains were pulling his mind from anything outside the church. Sitting on one of the many empty, wooden benches, the priest’s stomach thundered in need, louder by the minute. His palms clasped together, shaking, and he kneeled on the floor. The priest was no longer feeling his rib cage resting on his organs, which were beginning to feed on themselves.
Me: Maybe there's a game on and they didn't want to come.
Breathing with what felt like some weight pushing his lungs inward, he bowed his head. The balding, spectacled, greying man gently rested the surface of his face against the edges of his thumbs. “Father in Heaven, I am in great need of help. I don’t understand why this is happening. This is the second Sunday that my church is empty. What am I not doing right? Am I not serving you sufficiently? It’s not my place to question, but I need an answer. I just need a sign.”
Me: What is wrong with this dude? Is he on a hunger strike that he'll only break if someone comes to his church? Bad idea dude.
His eyelids were sinking. With some of the small reservoir of strength left in his body, he jolted his eyes more open. Yet this sudden, forced energy wasn’t to last very long at all. You see, it was simply a matter of seconds before his eyes were shut again, and the boat of his mind drifted off shore, sailing into the sea of unconsciousness.
Me: Am I the only one that's confused. I'll admit that I'm easily confused and apparently I have the super power of confusing people.
Since the door leading inside was still open since morning, perhaps someone was bound to become curious, and so, someone did. The curiosity, in this visitor’s thoughts, never once asked if the deed could be done, but rather, how much convincing it would need.
There, leaning with a left elbow against the church door trim, stood a man or figure, holding this cheeky grin at the priest. There was a fresh chunk of opportunity for the man or figure to sink his or its teeth inside, and fall in ecstasy over its succulence. His or its mouth just beginning to spawn a thick saliva, the man or figure’s clean grin turned just slightly wider.
Me: Call the Winchesters.
He or it took first steps closer to the priest’s involuntarily sleeping body. Just as this entity wearing an all-paper white suit and hat walked far inside enough to be out of its way, the church door slammed shut. It were as if a gust of wind pushed it shut, but there was no such force of earthly nature to make it do so.
The sound of the large, wooden door creaking, then banging closed boomed against Kaufmann’s heart, waking him up. Pivoting his head and eyes to see all around him, there was no new, visible presence in his sight. The only difference he noticed was the only exit from the church being shut off. Thinking nothing of it but perhaps the wind, or maybe one of the townsfolk, the preacher lifted his body, sitting it down on the front bench.
Me: Well I guess I can't always pick a winner.
Looking up at the large crucifix that binded Christ before the altar, Kaufmann heard a soft squeak. It only started after the slamming of the door though. The noise was just near him, and the towering cross as well. Pointing his pupils more towards the ceiling, indeed he found the source of the sounds. It was the chandelier, the real light source that used candles to help illuminate the room. Slowly, it was swinging back and forth, like something or someone gave it a little push. The man or figure being somewhere inside was still unknown to the priest. His eyes starting to sink once more, he started to think that a bit of wind might have caused this as well, possibly from the closing off of the only exit.
Nodding off and shutting his eyelids again, he wouldn’t see what else occurred with the chandelier. Swinging to and fro a little harder, the candles now went out. After emitting only smoke for maybe two minutes, they were beginning to burn again. Instead of a usual, natural orange, though, they burned off a different tint. It was that of a very dim crimson, almost a sort of pink hue. That very color echoed off the flames, consuming the room. Just before the preacher opened up his eyelids again, the light from the candles died for a second time. The space around him was dark, but not quite dark enough to not be able to see, since there were glimmers of sunlight seeping in from the outside.
Me; I'm guessing this isn't the KFC dude.
A couple, unseeable footsteps crept up to Father Kaufmann. They stopped, followed by the feeling of a frozen hand on his shoulder. That gave the priest a sudden sensation of ice racing to his heart. Quickly turning his head, the priest saw a smiling, pale man in a purely white suit and hat standing there with a harmless smile.
“Oh!” The priest clutched against his heart as if that would slow it down when he looked at who was behind him. “Oh, it’s you.” He breathed calmly, grinning to see the follower of his church, even though it was merely one.
“Yes, Padre.” The man or figure stroked his bare chin, looking around the church. “A bit empty this Sunday, I see.”
“It is. It’s been that way for the past couple of weeks. I’m… I’m at a bit of a struggle.”
“That’s rather unfortunate, Father.” The person in all white took a seat next to Kaufmann.
Me: Sucks to be you and to be me. I'm seriously considering dumpster diving.
“Very. I’m not sure what to do at this point. I may have to resort to shutting down the church, or worse, beg on the street.”
The tone in the other person’s voice turned a little softer as a gentle gasp initiated it. Whatever pleasantness on his visage was wiped clean, off, replaced with that of dread.“Oh no. I’d hate to see that ever happen. Perhaps there’s a way I could help.”
“That’s very kind of you, but without enough people attending Mass, it’s a distinct possibility.”
“Hmm, yes, I hate to say it, but that’s very true.”
“I’m sure you can tell it’s a bit of a dark time for me.”
“Yes, yes, indeed. I’d still like to help you though, Father.”
“I have my ways, Father.”
“Hmm, well, I suppose you could say that, in a way, at least.”
“Again, that’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t ask you to just take care of me like that.”
“Oh no, that’s not what I had in mind. Oh, speaking of dark times,” he said, gazing at the chandelier. “Maybe I should go ahead, and light up those candles.”
“No, please, you don’t have to climb up the ladder for that. It’s not needed. I insist.”
“That wouldn’t be any trouble at all. Besides, I have an easier way anyway.”
The priest raised one eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Me: Anyone else think this priest is dumb?
“Here, I’ll show you.”
“Oh, by the way, I hope you won’t mind my asking, but why is it that you only visit the church sometimes? The other people who’d attend would do so every week.”
“You could say I’m a traveling man. I mean, if you’re someone who goes to different places around the world, it’s not quite as plausible to stay with only one church.”
“Ah, now I understand. So, what do you do that requires world travel like this?”
“I guess I’ll tell you in just a moment. For now, though, let’s fix how dark it is in here. I’m sure you’d like to see a little better, right?” The man-figure clapped his or its hands together twice.
Me: Like the lights only with candles. Clap on. Clap off.
At the second clap the wicks of the candles burst in flame for a second time. The light glowing from them was a little different though. The flames were at a natural orange, but not the color radiating from them. It was now a darker red than before. The hue was more of a blood shade.
With this new light that was twitching between that shade of blood, and complete darkness, the large cross was also changing. It’s movements, or lack of, were no longer completely static. Even though both the cross, and the image of Christ attached to it didn’t move, something from within it did. The priest looked over at it as he saw the wooden image dribble blood from the spots of The Savior’s agonizing wounds, but also, down from the eyes.
“How’s that, Father? Better, huh?” The humanoid figure looked over to see the priest’s eyes and mouth stretched open. “What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.” He or it had stretched arms on top of the back of the bench. Chuckling, the being told Kaufmann, “Just joking, Padre. I mean, someone of my status needs to make dramatic introductions sometimes. I’m sure you understand, right?”
Dashing away, the preacher stopped at the door, desperately tugging on it. He tugged harder, and his palms heated up, sweating. He looked back at he or it, who smiled back at him, pulling the door as hard as he could. The door was in no way positioned to be locked, but it refused to budge as if it were.
The speaker of the gospel trembled in placed, forcing himself to shout, “Who are you!? Is this some kind of trick!?”
Me; Hello Satan.
“Oh, no trick, Padre, and hey! I see you’ve finally gotten rid of that monotone for once! Maybe if you showed a little more emotion all the time, people wouldn’t have been so eager to leave for a different church, eh?” He or it slapped his palm against his forehead. “Oh Dear, I’m so sorry! I forgot to really introduce myself! Man, I guess when you’re nearly as old as me, you tend to forget. I just hope it doesn’t get as bad as it does when you mortals get wrinkly after only less than a hundred years. Anyway, you mortals have given me a lot of names, actually, but I’m sure you know them all. I am The Accuser, The Adversary, Author of All Sin, The Father of Lies, The Old Serpent, The Morning Star, The Prince of Darkness, Satan, Lucifer. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Father.” The being stared straight into the priest’s eyes, and its became that of a snake’s.
Me: I guess someone doesn't watch Supernatural.
“No, it can’t be true.”
“Oh, yes, Father.” The entity stood up, taking one step, and then another towards the old man. “Right here…” He or it had both arms spread out, as if to bow in front of an audience. “In the flesh.”
Looking to the left side of the door, he realized there was still the small body of holy water in the bowl attached to the wall. Without any second thought, he cupped his wrinkly hands in it, throwing what he scooped at the entity in white.
Me: Anyone else thinking of when Lucifer was wearing Sam's meat suit and wearing a white suit?
The bits of water splashed in his or its face. Upon the impact of the sacred liquid, the entity fell on to the floor, curling into the fetal position. The being in the white suit screamed in absolute pain, his or its voice becoming a pitch far, far too low to be anything human. The sound stabbed into the priest’s ear drums as two black tips pierced through, and emerging from the visitor’s forehead. Following the tips of ebony were lengths of bone ivory that curled, and then two more pairs of similar, but smaller horns in between. Rolling onto his or its back, the teeth in the entity’s mouth turned into something much more long and sharpened, like the edge of a sword. The visitor’s mouth widened with more screaming, showing rows of more fangs rising, and maturing into full. The being’s eyes shifted into the back of his or its head, the corneas becoming a flawless black. Soon, the unnatural shrieks of pain stopped to be replaced by a different sound from the visitor’s mouth.
The entity’s mouth curled up into a smile, followed by giddy laughter. The person in all white stood back up on his feet, still giggling in glee to himself, and looking back to Kaufmann.
Laughter waning a bit, the unholy thing crossed his or its arms. The voice coming from this being’s lips returned to its previous state. “Come on, Father, you really think a little splash of water’s going to do any harm to me? I’m The Prince of Darkness. Surely, I deserve a little more credit than that.”
Even though the preacher’s ears were ringing from the sound of the other party’s other voice, he was still fairly capable of distinguishing spoken words. “How do I know you’re The Devil, and not just some demon?”
“Well…” The being stroked his chin carefully. “I suppose you don’t have to believe that if you don’t choose to, but if it were some mere demon trying to impersonate my greatness? Let’s say their punishment would be immediate, and terribly great.”
“They’d be damned, along with men?”
“‘Along with men’?” The figure let out another chuckle. “Oh, no, Father. Ha, you think the punishment for damned mortals is incomprehensible? You should try to imagine that for the demons who displease me.” The Morning Star pointed his hand at the church floor, gradually rising his arm.
As his arm rose higher, something was starting to peak up from underneath the floor. It rumbled, cracking the wood of the floor, eventually bursting it. What rose from underneath was a dirty and burned skeleton of a human being. It climbed on to the floor from what would seem to be an endless hole through the soil. The frame of a human body hissed at the priest, positioning itself on its hands and knees.
Me: Anyone else feel like some KFC? If only I got a coupon for some free chicken instead of a coupon for the worst pizza ever. Okay maybe second worst because California Kitchen is pretty bad.
Brushing dirt off the upper surface of the bones, The Prince of Darkness casually took a seat on its spine, crossing one leg over the other. “Now, I’ll forgive your rude behavior, Father. I’ll forgive this one time. All I ask is that you give me audience with you.”
Without a verbal reply, Kaufmann tried again to pull open the door, summoning all of his strength. Still, it was to no success.
“Listen, Father, you’re not leaving until you at least hear me out. Give me an audience for my full proposition, and if you’re still not interested, I’ll leave you be, and never bother you again.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“I suppose you really don’t, but right now, you’ll pretty much have to take my word for it. You really don’t have much of a choice at the moment.”
Father Kaufmann stopped pulling on the church door, keeping his back against it, and looked the fallen angel in the eyes. “What do you want with me?”
“Like I said, I want to help you, Father.” He rested his right elbow on top of his leg, and then his chin on top of his right palm. That cheeky smirk was still stuck on his visage as he conversed with the clergyman.
“Help me how?”
“Perhaps that was a bad choice of words. It’s really a deal, if anything. I’m going to help you bring people back to your church every Sunday.”
“And what do you want for it, my soul?”
Giving out a big sigh, The Prince of Darkness looked down, shaking his head. “I mean, you could, but that’s become so typical. It’s grown a bit cliché. It’s just not that fun anymore. I mean, what’s the fun in making deals with people if you keep asking for the same thing every time?”
Me: Well that's nice.
“You’re giving options?”
The Devil’s face jolted back up with a big, shining snicker. “Sure! Nowadays, I like to give my clients three options with a deal. I mean, we’re living in the nineteenth century, Father. Let’s mix things up a little!”
“So, what options are you giving me?”
The snicker disappeared off of Satan’s face. “Well, you could sell your soul, I guess.” His visage immediately brightened back up. “The second choice is sending someone else to me instead, preferably an innocent.”
“You can sell someone else?”
“Oh, sure, but it’s just not very heard of. Most people don’t go with that choice though. I mean, it’s easy enough. All you need is something of theirs like an article of clothing, lock of hair, a photograph, something of the sort. Once you have that, draw a circle of graveyard dust during the night of a solar eclipse, repeat a certain incantation, blah, blah, and the soul of an innocent is mine. No harm’s done to you.” “I could never.”
“Eh.” The Father of Lies shrugged. “Yeah, I figured as much. You always sort of had a big stick up your ass.”
“So, why does the notion of someone selling their own soul bore you so much? Is it really that common?”
“Well, kind of. I mean, that’s part of it. It just stops being so much fun when you really realize that most people are always going to end up in eternal damnation.” He pointed at the priest. “You of all people should know this, Padre.” Circling his hand around, The Author of Sin went on. “It’s more exciting when you don’t know if you’re going to win the game or not. If you’re having so much of a winning streak for so long though, you start to see that, and winning too much gets so boring.”
A big ass Sims game only in reality. There has to be some explanation for those times you go to another room and totally forget what you were going to that room for.
“So you’re saying each soul is just a point in a game?”
“More or less, yeah, so a guy selling his soul isn’t as anticipated as it used to be. Most people are smart enough to realize that eighty years of bliss is nothing compared to an eternity of torment. That’s most people though. There’s always going to be people dumb enough to do it anyway, especially young people who want to be famous. Heh, in say, around the year two-thousand and ten, there’ll be a ripe handful of young, teen singers for the picking.”
“Then, what’s the third option?”
“Whatever favor I want in return.”
“What kind of favor?”
The Prince of Darkness shrugged. “Hell if I know. I’ll think of something though. Maybe I’ll just want to be treated to dinner. Then again, we’re in Austria and not Italy, and you’re a bit tight on money anyway. So it looks like that’s out of the question.”
Me: Do you really need to ask this question dude? It obviously won't end well.
“And what happens if I don’t hold up my end of the bargain?”
“Like I said, Hell if I know, but I’ll think of something. There was this one guy, you may have heard of him. His name was Edgar Allan Poe. He asked to deal that kind of deal with me to make him a literary legend. Since a deal is sacred to me, I, naturally, keep to my word. However, he didn’t fulfill his end of the agreement. Get this.” He started to chuckle mischievously. “I stirred a little something up, and he never got a chance to see his own fame. The guy was broke, lost the women in his family to tuberculosis, and ended up dead in a gutter. That was forty years ago though, so who knows what I might cook up?”
“And why should I agree to these terms?”
“Oh, come on, Father. I probably won’t ask you to do anything too drastic. It’ll probably be something you do a lot anyway. Well, you would if people attended Mass at all. Besides, I know you’re a pretty hungry guy. I mean, sure, if you say ‘no,’ I’ll leave you alone for good, but what happens to you? I’m sure the hunger pains are just unbearable.” The Devil gently patted his thigh, and the preacher’s hunger intensified.
It was a waving ripple that crumbled to more biting and crying for food within his abdomen. Kaufmann’s legs were shaking at this point. The clergyman was barely even able to keep standing. Trying not to fall to his knees or tailbone, he held himself up with the wooden appendage carrying the holy water.
The Devil scoffed to himself. “And starving to death isn’t a very peaceful way to go. Besides, what about your church? Why should all the effort you’ve put into this place crumble at your feet? What’ll you do then? I know you, Father Kaufmann, and I know you wouldn’t want to fail your service to the guy upstairs, would you?”
“No, no, of course not. I’d be working with you to do it though. Isn’t that, in itself a heavy sin?”
“A sin is a sin, Father. Besides, even if a small deal with me were a sin, think about all the things people have done in the past in His name. I would think that murder is a bit more extreme than a simple deal.”
“I suppose so.”
“Oh, come on, you’ve read that book of yours front to back. You know the kinds of things carried out in His name. I promise to you a little deal like this isn’t such a big deal. You’d be doing it to do His work anyway, right? Besides, if you’re worried about your soul after this, you can always ask for forgiveness, maybe confess, and all will be okay, right?” Putting his hand over his mouth, but not covering his smile very much, Satan giggled like a schoolboy with a dirty secret.
“Yes. Yes, that’s true.”
“So how about it, Padre?” The Prince of Darkness stood up from his seat, reaching out his right hand to the priest.
“Wait. Why me?”
Me: I guess even Satan can get bored.
“I’ve known about your struggle before people started attending Mass less often. I learn about these sort of human affairs all the time. I don’t usually go out of my way for mortals, so I was really passing by more or less. Seeing you in misfortune just sort of sparked my interest.”
“How will you get people to come back though?”
“Oh, worry not your balding head about that. Influencing mortals isn’t so difficult. I’ll be honest here. Free will is a bit of a joke. Yahweh tries to respect it, but I don’t get why. It’s kind of silly to have millions of pawns at the tips of your fingers if you can’t have a little control over them, right?”
Kaufmann stayed silent, his pupils quivering.
The Father of Lies gave the priest a gentle slap on the shoulder. “Ah, you know I’m just kidding, Padre.” He gave another tiny snicker, not to the clergyman’s hearing. “What do you say then?” He put out his right hand to the preacher again. “Are we going to seal the deal?”
Trembling, Father Kaufmann’s right hand reached towards The Devil’s. It slowly crept more and more forward until grasping it to shake. “Yes. Yes.” Looking up to the heavens, he murmured, “Father in Heaven, please forgive me.”
“Good.” At that word, the appearance of the visitor, and the inside of the church clicked back to how it was before. It were as if it was never The Devil, but rather, another follower who simply wanted to help. All looked as normal once more. Swinging back open, the church door pivoted violently, banging against the wall next to it. It creaked, coming to a stop as the entity told Kaufmann, “Oh, one more thing, Father. Hold out your hands. There’s something I should give you. Trust me, you need it by now.”
Hesitating at first the clergyman did as instructed. “Wait, what are you going to do?” “Come on, Father. Have a little faith.” The Prince of Darkness winked at him.
Me: I have to figure out how to cook something in an oven with no temperatures on the knob. It just says off and broil.
The Adversary waved his hand, and then flicked it over the priest’s open palms. There appeared something to make the hungry preacher’s eyes widen, and jaw drop. What materialized onto his hands was a plate with small, neat piles of meat and potatoes joined by appropriate utensils.
“Eat up, Padre.” The entity turned, walking towards the only doorway out. “You’ll need it for tonight’s Mass, and don’t worry. I’ll help you tonight, of course.”
“An evening Mass? How peculiar, but very well.”
“Be ready by moonlight, Father.” At these words, there was no visible, physical form. It was a mere, embodied murmur that echoed around the room.
Devouring the mass on his plate, the priest still wandered his eyes around the church, and indeed, saw nothing.
The Moon was standing high, and cleaned up, Kaufmann was standing at the altar. He watched the opened, church door. The balding man was shaking a little bit, but not from hunger.
The first, guest footstep entered the church. “Hiya, Father!” It was him again. It was that same visitor in his all-white suit and matching hat. The Accuser walked right up to the priest, saying, “I thought I’d show a little earlier than everyone else just so you can see my example, and this won’t have to be an issue for you anymore.”
“Right. When should the others be arriving, and how full will it be tonight?”
“Oh, the building’s going to be completely filled.” He stepped closer, being just centimeters from the man. The Author of Sin softly whispered into his ear, “And they should be arriving right about now.”
Kaufmann’s head turned to his side where the whisper came from. It was just as he looked over that the being’s image was dissipating and fading, The Devil’s body instantly becoming a thick fog. Surrounding the priest, this fog forced itself inside through his nostrils, ears and mouth. The preacher’s pupils rolled up, away from sight, as the entity was completely within.
From the innards of his body, the body he tried to move, but was unable to, he heard The Morning Star speaking to him. “So yeah, I’ve got this part for ya, Padre.”
The clergyman attempted as hard as he could to speak back. However, he found himself also not able to vibrate his vocal chords even slightly, let alone move his jaw.
“Oh, right,” Satan let him know, “It’s okay, Father. You can just think whatever you want to say to me. I’ll hear you just fine.”
The priest wondered, Why can’t I move!? What are you doing!?
“Didn’t you listen before? I’m showing you how to do things so this isn’t a problem anymore. I’m setting an example for you, so stop fighting it. If you keep that up, it’ll only make things extremely painful for you.”
Kaufmann did as he was told, trying to imagine whatever extent of bodily torment the entity meant. So, what about my end of the bargain?
“Haven’t thought of it yet, Padre. I’ll let you know when I think about it, okay?” Giggling at first, The Prince of Darkness shifted his voice into being more serious. “All right, here we go. People are starting to show up.”
Me: I always hated the hard benches.
Kaufmann watched as his body waltzed over to the entrance of the church, pulling off a little grin. As returning attendees approached the building, his body’s smile grew, and The Devil shook every person’s hand. Energetic welcomes were given to each person attending, they did the same back to him. There wasn’t quite as much enthusiasm in their replies though, and being seated in the wooden benches, they whispered among themselves. Sometimes, a few of them would look at the preacher, and then back to one another, resuming whatever they were murmuring.
Wearing the clergyman’s body like a meaty suit, The Author of Sin hastily walked up to the wooden podium before the audience. Clasping his hands together, The Devil let out a great shout. “Good evening!”
Maybe half or so of the attending townspeople jumped an inch in their maple seats, staring at the priest’s body.
Although not listening so much to the sermon The Accuser gave at maybe the moment’s notice, Kaufmann paid his attention to something else. It was funneled towards The Father of Lies’ tones, and how he’d move the body’s arms and hands about. That, and then at how the people were reacting to this. They weren’t looking around, or sneaking in more conversation towards one another. The people before the priest and the entity were all sitting perfectly still, gazing in fascination. They were listening in perfection, and it was a sight Father Kaufmann had never quite seen in his own church before. At some point, there was the passing of the collection plate. By the time it came back, it was full, just as a rich orchard of ripe apples, beckoning to be bitten into.
An hour of the night, maybe a bit more time, waned into non-existence before the attendees made their leave. All of them were smiling, but this time, with a flowing energy in their walking. Instead of none this time, several of them gathered in a somewhat scattered group to shake the hand of the priest’s body. With every shake were compliments about how moving the sermon was, and questions of when the next service was. The answer given by The Adversary was the typical, Sunday morning. The Devil waved at all them, and smiling with persistence until they were all gone. A moment after the last attendee was out of sight, the door to the church pushed shut. Once again, it wasn’t by any hand, nor wind.
Now, an opportunity for a bit of privacy between the two faded inside the building. The church being closed away from the outside world, that same thick fog gathered into the center of the clergyman’s stomach. It rose, forcing Kaufmann’s jaw open. Eyes rolling back once more, the fog seeped out of the body’s throat, like a much slower vomiting.
The thickness that finally exited his body gained a man-looking form. Colors of pale flesh and paper white swirled until a clear image of Satan’s image, upon first speaking to the priest, returned.
“Well, Padre,” the visitor giggled again. “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”
“Maybe not.” The preacher’s voice was quieted down, his visage angled towards the floor, but his eyes still meeting the entity’s.
Me: I guess someone doesn't have an anti possession tattoo.
“Ah, right.” Kaufmann’s visitor stroked his bare chin again, looking upward, but at nothing. “Before I forget, there is your end of the bargain, Father.”
Those words were something the clergyman would’ve shaken at no matter how much time he had to prepare for it. Even though the amount of time he had before hearing them was more short-lived than the life of a fly, all the tomorrows would’ve made no difference. It could only be imagined what his end of the bargain would be. Perhaps a mortal sin, or even a ghastly collection of them that would haunt the back of his mind for remainder of his life. Maybe not just a mortal sin, but what he taught people in the church to be known as a “grave matter.” Something as grave a matter as murder, maybe something even more grave. With The Devil Himself, God only knows. “My end?” “Yeah, and don’t worry.” The entity in the white suit chuckled. “It’s not like I’ll ask you to take anyone life, as entertaining as it could be. No, it’s much simpler, and much better.”
“What?” The priest’s breathing gained weight, fueling his terrified imagination.
“Easy, Padre. Jeez, I keep telling you it’s really easy, but you just don’t want to have any faith. You keep thinking like I’m a bad guy or something. I’m not nearly as bad as you and your ancestors have taught the mortals, you know. I may be The Father of Lies, but I’m not always dishonest. Anyway, what I want in return. All I need you to do is a simple baptism.”
“A baptism? That’s all?” The images that spiraled into the darkest whirlpools of his imagination that may have sunken into no true return whisked away.
“Yes, in fact for a family of three who were just attending ‘your’ service this evening.” The smile on his face looked pleasant, and innocent enough.
“Oh? Who are they?”
“The father’s name is Alois. They should be coming again next Sunday, just like all the others. Then, they’ll ask you to baptize their newborn son in the nearby lake.” The face, as pleasant as it looked just a moment ago, transformed into a little bit of a scowl.
At first glance, this expression would look like simple, human irritation. Looking into the eyes though… Gazing into the eyes of the Morning Star, Father Kaufmann could just feel countless lashings, slashings and unearthly fires burning just inches away from his tingling flesh.
The Devil’s voice deepened back into the voice he carried when screaming at the touch of the holy water. “It’s absolutely imperative that this child does not drown. This is a simple task that I am bestowing upon you, and I trust that you will accomplish this with no problems. This child is going to make an unimaginable difference for both you and me. It’s absolutely necessary that all goes well. You have a single job, Father, and nothing more. If you think what I did to Poe was terrible, only attempt to fathom the things I would have in store for you if you would even dare to let this go less than satisfactory. Do you understand me, Kaufmann?”
Me: He knows when you're sleeping and he knows when you're awake dude.
The priest, for some reason, wasn’t cowering in the corner of the room like some beaten pup, despite his wanting to. There was ringing in his ears just as before, but he still heard every word of The Prince of Darkness’ inhuman voice. “Yes.” He shivered in an unnoticeably thin layer of cold sweat. “Yes, I understand.”
The entity’s vocal chords expelled the same, seemingly human voice with a dash of lightheartedness like it did just a moment ago. “Good.” He tipped his hat at the priest, and walked away. “Pleasure doing business with you, Father. Have a good night, and remember.” He stopped at the door, turning his face to the clergyman. “Even though I may be away and out of sight, I’ll always be around, with you.” The Father of Lies left the church, away from any townsman’s seeing.
Me: This baby should have drowned.
The next Sunday morning came, and that family asked the priest to perform the baptism, just as was told. Without any question, the preacher agreed. Not many days afterwards, the family and Kaufmann went to the nearby lake for the baptism. The child did indeed come fairly close to drowning. Luckily for the family, and especially the priest, the baby boy was saved before it was too late. The parents were regardless, happy over the baptism, and proudly said how their little boy would grow up, making a great difference for the church. Their baby would make a big difference for maybe Austria, perhaps even the world, their little Adolf Hitler.
Credited to Dylon Winfield
Me by Barbarra Desmond
I decided to watch a video and see if I could figure out how to make the Fun Loom fun. It was for the Rainbow Loom. I thought hey they are practically the same thing but I did learn that the Fun Loom is bigger so the directions went right out the window when she said how many bands of each color you needed. Isn't this thing kinda horrifying? Hello torture device for downstairs.
I got this cute little basket thing from Dollar Tree. I decided to get a few and thought I'd use it for my crafty stuff although so far I'm failing miserably at this craft. Maybe I'm not cut out for looming or maybe I should try out the Loom Wizard to see if the kid's directions will work better for me.
I did what the chick in the video said and ended up with this. Clearly this isn't right. I need directions for the really dumb and for the left handed people. I'm starting to think I should just do it the exact opposite way that the directions say since that could work.
Clearly I have a future in photography. The red bands just seem to fade into the red of this cute little basket. This picture is just bizarre.
Despite having to add more bands I got to this part so I consider that an accomplishment.
Since that didn't seem very tear drop looking I stopped at this point so this is epic fail two. I think I need to look at other videos to see if I can find one that's simple and friendly to left handed people. I might try everything the exact opposite way to see if that works after all I'm no stranger to using the can opener upside down.
This is my entry into Derpyspaghetti's Dark Humor contest. My theme was Cannibalism.
Me: I'm kind of caged too because I have an asshole attached to my bathroom that just has to crank up garbage. It isn't even music. I'm going to try to record it but I'm hoping asshole will get a clue. I can deal with his occasional funky smell but I draw the line at this loud noise bullshit. That food doesn't look at all tempting.
As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster… oh wait, that’s Goodfellas, let’s try this again. As far back as I can remember, I always wanted a good-looking girlfriend and to be sort of popular. Yeah, that sounds more like it. How’s everyone doing? My name is Cameron Dunn, and this is my story. Who am I speaking to? Who even knows, as my pursuit for love currently has me locked up in a cage. Yep, Cameron is caged, or so it seems. Who threw me in here, and why am I currently pacing the walls… heck, how am I even writing this? Well, some answers will be revealed, I promise.
Me: I know who that is. Talk about day and night with her role on Days Of Our Lives as Faith the preacher's daughter and her role on Xena as Valasca. That bitch was crazy and left quite an impression even though she was just in one episode of Xena I think. I'm not really a zombie fan although I did enjoy that zombie book by Gena Showalter. There can be exceptions to rules.
A bit about me to start off, I guess. I was lonely. Hell, I was so lonely that the closest thing I ever had to a girlfriend came from my affinity to Julia Walker; she was the zombie girl from Return of the Living Dead 3, in case you didn’t know. She was played by Melinda Clarke, and let me tell you, she made me fall in love in an hour and a half. That should sum me up a bit. I was the guy that fell in love with movie characters and would then doze off as I fantasized about fictional lives together with people that didn’t even exist. Oh Julie, I would have loved you, zombie or not. My best friend is a guy named Ike Ruddock. He was a lot like me, in the lonely department. We’d sit up for hours on the phone chatting about the lives that we wished we had. We’re both 16 you see; guess I should have mentioned that earlier. Our long nightly ramblings would generally consist of such gems as, ‘I wish we had girlfriends,’ or, ‘This is how life would be if we had girlfriends.’ Okay, not trying to sound too much like a copy of Kenny Leonard here. Trust me, we had our own issues, and not all of them were based around our crippling lack of physical contact from the opposite sex.
Me: Sadly I don't have a Toys R US near me now.
Neither Ike nor I were really miserable folks all the time either. We had our hobbies. Now, those hobbies consisted mainly of playing Final Fantasy 3 all night and then talking about it. We also liked renting cheap horror movies and making fun of them, and of course there were our semi-regular nights of egging cars and pouring sticky drinks over payphones. Ike had his driver’s license, so we’d slip out sometimes and just go around doing dumb stuff like that. A good day out was a trip to the mall, waste a dozen quarters or so at the arcade and then get kicked out of Toys R Us for making the talking Stone Cold Steve Austin doll say vulgar things. (Shake them titties just sounds so strange coming from a plastic Steve Austin head.) However, there was a hole there in our lives, and that hole was a girlfriend.
The perfect night!
Me: That bitch was crazy. How about the end when she was strapped to the bed and saying she was flying.
I think we got shot down a lot because we went after the wrong types though. For our first couple years of high school, we went after the cookie cutter “hot girl” type. This usually was the preppy, popular chick that would look at us and laugh. It wasn’t until we watched a little flick called The Craft that I finally realized that the problem was we were chasing after the wrong types. Remember how I mentioned falling in love with the zombie girl from Return of the Living Dead 3? Well, let’s just say that when I saw Fairuza Balk’s character in The Craft, my heart spun on its head. I knew that was the key. I needed to just find some socially awkward girl who could understand and appreciate the finer nuances that I brought to the relationship table. If that girl could be as attractive as Balk’s character that would just be a double win for me. Who knows, maybe even Ike could find one too and we could go on weird double dates down to the local cemetery. We could try to summon demons and then do weird stuff on graves. See folks, I was thinking clearly, and the motivation to find my odd girlfriend grew from there.
And the perfect girl!
Me: That's just lame. Really? My clothes pretty much comes from Walmart but I go to Ross for my shoes.
So, forgive me here, I’m working with a 5000 word limit, which sounds like a lot, but in actuality isn’t, so, I’ll have to forgo the massive purple prose that you’re obviously looking forward to, sorry. Here’s the deal, Ike and I lived in New Orleans, (of course we did, I think it’s a rule or something that we have to) and our high school, Warren Easton, was full of potential love interests. However, my idea that just finding a weird girl that would look past our obvious social shortcomings was quickly failing. Turns out that even the artsy, gothy types still had friends and interests that kept a gap between our virginity and romantic bliss. I wasn’t into their music or fashion, (I actually thought Marilyn Manson was called Merlyn Manson for about 6 months and made that mistake a couple of times when trying to bond over music) and my clothes ranged from K-Mart to the bargain bin when J.C. Penney had a sale. Ike wasn’t quite as on board with the ‘get a strange girl’ plan, as I think he was still holding out hope that Clarissa from Clarissa Explains It All was a real person that would surely crawl out of his television any day. So it was just I, failing in glorious fashion.
That is, until she transferred to our school.
Me; That name is a mouthful. She sounds super rich and potentially off the charts bitchy.
Vivianna Alexander was her name. She showed up one day in class out of nowhere. She was perfect! Lovely pale skin, deep dark hair, secretive eyes, she was the Fairuza Balk to my… Well, there wasn’t a male lead in that movie, so she was the Balk to my… me. She was new to the school so she had no friends for me to compete with. Does all of this make me sound creepy? C’mon, I’m 16, how developed do you expect me to be? I saw this as a sign. So, in true Cameron fashion, I avoided her and instead tried to dig up some information.
Me: Who doesn't have some issue floating around some of us more than others?
There wasn’t much to dig, though. Ike knew less about her than I did. All I was able to get from asking around to the few people that would speak to me was that she’d come here from another town due to family issues. I had no idea what those issues were. That would involve speaking to her, but I figured that it’d bode well for me to get to know her. After all, I had a few issues at home too. My mother was raising me alone, and she was a handful anyway. Big old half Sicilian woman, loved to eat and talk at volumes far beyond those of normal social standards. Still though, the challenge was in talking to her, which is not something I excelled at well.
Me: She sounds delightful. Satan gets a bad rap. Crack open a book. It has been a while since I read the Satanic Bible so I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure it was about putting yourself first which can be frowned upon because people think you have to put others first. Bitch don't have kids. Bitch don't want kids. Why can't bitch put bitch first? Oops where was I?
However, fate seemed to be on my side throughout, as a few events happened that led me right into her home.
She mutilated a bird. That’s what started it. See, everyone was saying how weird she was. She would sit in silence, eat lunch alone, and walk with her head down. On paper, it would seem that her self-esteem was just low enough to make her a perfect candidate to date me. People left her alone for the most part. Some of the girls called her Lydia, like from Beetlejuice I guess, while a few others asked her once or twice if she worshiped Satan. That was about the extent of it though. She wasn’t really focused on until the bird incident. No one knows why she did it either, and with my luck, I missed it when it happened. Kids were saying though that she was seen at lunch slicing open a bird on one of the outdoor stone tables near the cafeteria. See, Warren Easton was located about a half mile from downtown New Orleans, so we got a lot of pigeons. Most of the kids would toss them bread during lunch, so these birds knew where to come everyday for a good meal. According to the rumor mill, Vivianna had managed to catch one. Kids were watching as she gently picked the bird up, laid it down on the table before her, and proceeded to use a fork (yes, a fork) to slice it open down the stomach. People watched on in shock and awe as she then dipped her finger into its open guts and took a taste of its blood.
Now, at first I thought this was all bogus. They already were calling her a devil worshiper, so the idea of her killing a bird in the name of her dark lord just seemed too convenient. I was ready to rule it out, but then Ike called me that night and told me that he saw it happen. I would have laughed at anyone else, but Ike didn’t lie. He called and told me something like,
Me: Maybe she was thirsty.
“Dude, that freaky girl you like killed a bird at lunch today and drank its blood.”
Me: I was suspended once for two days. My PE teacher was a bitch and I kind of let her know how I felt but it started with a misunderstanding. Oopsie.
We talked about that for a long time, and he swore on all the characters of Final Fantasy and beyond that it happened, just like that. The next day she wasn’t at school, as she’d likely been suspended, but all the kids were talking now. Those hard to find rumors were fleshing themselves out, as suddenly everyone was a subject matter expert on Vivianna.
“She had to transfer from her old school because the police found out what her family really does,” said one girl to me as I sat down in class.
Me: Are they eating the homeless people?
“Her family was kidnapping local homeless people,” said another.
Me: I want to be a wealthy weirdo but without the whole eating people thing. I'm good with eating chicken.
“They were caught running a Satanic Cult and had to move out of their last neighborhood,” confirmed a third.
By the end of that day I heard that she was a Satanist, a serial killer and finally even a cannibal. Someone even claimed that her father ran a restaurant that was secretly serving human to wealthy weirdos, and the cops had caught on. I didn’t really believe much of it, as most of those claims should have wound her family up in jail, not just moving to another school. However, the bird incident seemed to have really happened, as not just Ike but just about everyone else that shared a lunch period with her swore to it. There was even a little reddish-brown stain on the table where she’d been sitting. Bird blood perhaps?
Now, if you think these rumors would have deterred me away from her, you’d don’t know old Cameron Dunn. She really was turning out to be like Fairuza from The Craft. We could be the weird couple of Warren Easton. The bizarre, bird-slicing Vivianna and her faithful boyfriend, the slightly chubby yet otherwise lovable Cam; it was a match made in Heaven… or somewhere at least.
Me: Aren't pigeons on the bottom of the barrel or are the crows there instead? Who really likes pigeons? Maybe if you have a bird shit fetish and no I don't what to know if that's a real thing.
She came back to school a few days later, and let me tell you all, the kids were not forgiving. I didn’t know we had so many pigeon lovers there. Girls snubbed or ridiculed her, boys made the sign of the cross when she walked by, and poor little Vivianna, she walked through it all. I was actually trying to think of just the right way to approach the situation. I mean, I am pretty shy, even when it comes to talking to an animal mutilator, but around 2 pm that Friday, the gods smiled upon me… sort of.
I’d come around the corner and found her surrounded by two guys and a girl. They were shouting horrible things, calling her a witch, a bitch and… well, nothing else really rhymes that works, so you get the idea. The girl was sort of directing the two guys. Maybe they didn’t feel too good about bullying a lone girl, but their friend was providing the cheerleading, and they were following the cadence. This was my chance. Vivianna was up against the wall, trying to walk past, but the guys kept blocking her.
“You going to cast a spell on us, bitch? You going to turn us into birds?” the girl was saying. I still don’t know why you’d provoke someone by daring them to cast a spell on you, but that seemed to be their game. So, feeling like Locke from Final Fantasy 3 when he bravely stepped in to protect Terra, I puffed up my chest, stepped in between them and made my stand.
Me: Are you really surprised that this happened?
I was promptly beaten up.
When I came around, I was sitting up against the wall while Vivianna was dabbing blood off of my cheek with her thumb. And you know what, I could have sworn I saw her lick her thumb at least once. I didn’t care though; in my mind I’d just made the first move in Operation Fairuza.
“God, dude, why’d you do that?” she’d asked.
“Didn’t like seeing you get picked on. Three on one, two of them being guys, I had to say something,” I replied.
“Yeah, but I’m used to it. It’s like this at most schools. I stick out, it happens.”
She finished her strange ritual of cleaning me up and helped me to my feet. We spent a little time that day talking after school. She told me that she was new to New Orleans; she hinted that there were some issues at her last school, but didn’t go into detail. I wanted to push further, but didn’t want to scare her off either. We sat out front until her parents pulled up to get her. I wanted to ask for her phone number, or at least give her mine, but it seemed as though the chance was slipping. I still could have, but that damn shyness kept holding me back. She finally gave me a hug and thanked me once more. She told me we’d talk more on Monday, and briskly climbed into her parent’s car.
Me: Am I having a dumb moment? If you kill a bird and drink its blood you aren't actually a cannibal unless you're a bird doing it to another bird. Think about how creepy that commercial is with the Potato Heads eating chips in the pantry.
The parents, WOW! Big black sedan, I could see her father only briefly through the open window. He was a tall looking man, black beard, black turtleneck; he looked like the father of a bird-killing cannibal. They drove off and I sat there wishing I’d have gotten her number. However, luck was apparently on my side.
Me: I seem to have ears of a bat which is really bad. Oddly I would swear that one ear had some damage from the stint I suffered where the person upstairs was a nympho hooker that literally went at it all the time. Bitch was always giggling and that bed was so fucking loud. It drove me crazy.
That night, it was around 8 pm; I was about to call Ike up for our nightly chat about life, love and all things Square Soft, when the phone rang. My mom picked it up from the kitchen and I could hear almost every word. As I said before, she spoke as though the world was all half deaf and she was the only hope of an audible connection. She came into my room, smiling ear to ear, and informed me that I had a phone call.
It was Vivianna. We talked for a little while. Mostly mundane stuff, more thanks for stepping in at school followed by what I could only call a blessing from Heaven above, an invitation to her home the following night!
My mom filled me in on the rest. Turns out Vivianna told her parents all about my heroic intervention. Her folks were so impressed that they looked us up in the phone book and called to talk to my mother. They thanked her for the remarkable bravery of her son and extended an invite for me to come by the following night and eat with them in their home. When I was put on the phone with Vivianna, she was really opening up. Her voice sounded almost giddy, not the drab tone maintained at school. She seemed legitimately thrilled at the idea of me coming over. I know I was!
Me: Sure this girl is totally normal. What is normal? Who knows?
The next night I was all set for the “date.” My mom was thrilled about it too. She was always going on about how I needed to find a nice girl and be a normal teenager. Of course she insisted that I bring food. I told her that this was a dinner and food would already be there, but as I mentioned once before, my mom revolved all affection around the idea of a meal. She put something together in a Tupperware container and insisted that I offer it. I didn’t think it was polite to do so, but I brought it with me at mom’s insistence. She dropped me off at their home, told me to call her when it was over and left me standing there on the sidewalk in front of the Alexander home.
Me: People talk shit all the time but that doesn't make it true. I could be wrong but I would think a cannibal would make every attempt to not stand out among other people but I could be wrong. I don't know any cannibals that I could ask. I do wonder if I could sell my body for them to eat and get paid before they actually do it.
Okay, time to set some mood here; I know I gotta get the reader (or listener if Creeparoni gets ahold of this) into the right mindset. I was nervous now. Yes, part of it was that I was going into the home of a girl that I really liked and had to not make an ass out of myself. Another part of me though was a little bit nervous about all the crap I’d heard about her family. Satan worship, cannibalism and kidnappings had been the most common of rumors. Could any of that be true? These were realizations that I’d never come close to meeting up with in real life. How would I actually respond to it? Well, no sense in just standing out on the pavement wondering, it was time to go in and find out what the real deal was all about.
Her father answered the door, and just as I recalled from seeing him briefly in his car, he was an odd one. Tall as all hell, the guy had to be pushing over 6 feet, with a neatly cropped beard that was as black as night, and some really intense eyes.
“You must be Cameron!” he said in a voice that was a bit too jolly for his appearance. “C’mon in, we’ve been waiting for you!”
“Thank you for having me over,” I replied with a bit of nerves.
Me: Behold the wonder of Tupperware. It is a little weird to bring food over when you're asked over for dinner unless it is a Pot Luck. Why do they call it Pot Luck? It just sounds weird when you think about it.
He took the Tupperware container from me and sat it down on their dining room table. His wife came out to join him. Now, she was almost like a stereotype of the creepy parent too. This was too much. She was attractive for a woman her age. She had long blonde hair that was almost platinum, deep brown eyes and a wide smile that seemed to almost have too many teeth for any human jaw.
“Cameron, so nice to meet you! I’m Renee, Viv’s mom, and you’ve already met my husband, Casper. We heard all about what you did at school, standing up for Viv the way you did. You are a remarkable young man. We’re so honored to have you with us tonight.”
Me: Fingers crossed that he's like the ghost.
Casper… the dad’s name was Casper… I sure hope he’s friendly.
“Yes, Cameron, stay as long as you’d like… Perhaps even longer!” Casper announced, followed by a deep laugh. My skin broke out in goose bumps for just a moment.
“Casper, that joke has never been funny, stop it!” Renee scolded, and the big man blushed a bit.
I was led through to the living room, where I assumed I would get grilled a bit by the parents, and that’s when I saw it all. They had two lamps, both appearing to be made out of human remains. That’s right, I’m skipping over the buildup and going right into their lamps. It was too much to ignore. Bones created the lamp base, and in place of a traditional shade was a thin filmy substance that I thought for sure was human flesh. It was stapled together at the seams.
“Do you like the lamps?” Renee asked me.
“Well, I…” I stuttered.
“I hope he likes them, they cost me a fortune,” Casper replied.
Me: Prices can get crazy. I think the Anayanka replica necklace is ridiculous and it isn't even real silver.
“Well, dear, when you insist on buying props from popular movies, you have to be prepared to spend a little,” his wife replied.
“Props?” I asked, trying not to sound too shaky in the voice.
Me: Weird but sweet I guess.
“Yep, Texas Chainsaw Massacre! Renee and I actually saw that movie on our first date, and it’s always been special to us. They filmed that movie out near Austin, TX- that’s where we just moved from. Turns out they were selling off some of the old props, and when I saw those lamps, I knew I had to get them for our home,” Casper explained.
Okay, I could breathe again.
Me: Is he an Ozzy fan. He did it once but I think it was an accident. It might have been a pigeon or a bat. Bats are handy. They eat bugs. Okay the breath has to be out of control but they eat bugs. I don't like bugs.
“I feel so bad for what happened at school with Viv and that damned bird. It’s all Casper’s fault, you know,” Renee stated.
I was about to ask for more information, what really happened, when suddenly I heard the stairs creaking from overhead, and looked up to see Vivianna herself coming down. She looked stunning. If there was ever a time in real life for that Sixpence None the Richer song "Kiss Me" to play, this was it. She was wearing a long black dress, had her hair up and was almost gliding down the stairs.
“Cameron, so glad you’re here!” she announced, sounding very honest in her joy. My heart did a little flip.
Renee led us all to the table. Vivianna sat next to me. If it were possible to go to Heaven, die there, and go to like, Super Heaven, this was it.
Me: Maybe he really loves food like Dean Winchester and Shane Dawson do.
“Let’s eat!” Casper stated with excitement, maybe a bit too much, and I saw how wide and hungry his eyes became.
A domed plate was put in front of me. “Guests always go first,” Renee stated and gestured for me to remove the dome.
Me: A joke?
I pulled up the dome and almost jumped from the table. On the plate in front of me was a dead bird, a pigeon.
“The culprit himself,” Casper joked.
“What… what is this?” I asked.
“That’s the reason why our daughter is getting bullied,” Renee answered. “Casper and his antics, I swear if we have to move again…”
Vivianna reached over and grabbed it. I watched in stunned silence as she jabbed her fork down into the dead animal’s stomach, producing a red liquid. Just as I’d heard she’d done at school, she dipped her finger into the pool of slime and took a lick.
Me: Okay they are just big fans of horror movies.
“We thought it’d be funny if she brought it to school to show it off,” Casper said. “Turns out not so much.”
Renee sighed, “Another of my husband’s stupid props. This one we named Ozzie. It was a prop from some zombie movie. You fill the rubber bird with strawberry jelly and bite into it for effect. I guess we figured Viv could show it off, impress some friends or something. Who would’ve believed those kids would actually think it was real?”
“You mean, it was a fake bird?” I asked, failing to hide the slight nervous undertone of my voice.
Me: It did seem weird for a pigeon to show up at the right time to be killed and sucked dry.
“Of course. What, did you think I actually killed a pigeon?” Vivianna asked, and I had to lie to avoid sounding like just another prick from the school.
“Well, of course I never believed it even happened, but, now that you’ve shown me what it really is… jeez, hard to believe people were so freaked out, right?”
Viv smiled at that. I guess I covered for myself well enough.
“My parents are both artists, Cameron, and we actually owned a studio out in Austin. Things were going well enough until my dad got the idea to do a damned over-the-top exhibit on the streets.”
Me: But how creepy would it have been if a real killer decided to slip in a real body to the horror show?
“Hey, that exhibit was brilliant. I created a real life horror show right there on 7th street in downtown Austin. I had a beheading, a disemboweling, all free for the public to view. It was even around Halloween. I had no idea that the police would get called out because some folks actually thought I was murdering someone on the sidewalk,” Casper explained.
“So, that’s why you guys had to move?” I asked.
Me: i want to be in a place where keep weird is the motto.
“Yeah, the publicity didn’t go over well for my dad’s studio. What was meant to be a really deep art show turned out to just freak a lot of people out. Guess the 'Keep Austin Weird' motto isn’t as true as they claim.”
“We always heard that New Orleans was really tolerant of the strange and eccentric, so we sold the studio and decided to try and set up shop down here. Then Casper sends our daughter to school with a prop bird filled with jelly and it looks like we’re on the fast track to be pariahs again,” Renee added.
“Okay, enough about that, let’s eat!” Vivianna suddenly exclaimed.
Me: Uh oh.
“I hope you like meat!” Casper announced, and gave me a strange wink.
“Oh, dad, are we having dried James tonight?” Viv asked her father.
“Of course, dear!”
Me: You're kidding right?
A plate was produced with what appeared to be sliced up tubes of red meat. “Now Cameron, James here was a bit of a jerk, but he certainly will snap right into your mouth!” Renee announced smiling.
The family tore into the tubes of meat. I sat there stunned for a moment when suddenly the tension was broken.
“I love these things!” Viv informed me. “I used to think Slim Jims were gross, but when my dad started calling them James, I don’t know, it was just too funny not to enjoy.”
Slim Jim’s… jerky… of course. Jim is short for James; just another damned dad joke from Casper the Freaky Ghost. I ate one and was indeed informed by my mouth that this was store bought beef jerky.
“Okay, Cameron, I hope you’re ready for the main course!” Casper announced. “I hope you like human!”
Okay, there it was, no way that I misheard or misunderstood that. The man just said human, as in, people.
“Yeah, we know not everyone is a big fan of human. We started eating it back in Austin though, and Viv can’t get enough of it,” Renee chimed in. I could see that both she and her husband had dried meat stuck to their cheeks. Their teeth now looked really sharp as they smiled.
“I’ll get it!” Vivianna said with excitement. I sat there in silence.
She returned from the kitchen a moment later with a large bowl of what looked like white, congealed foam. The bowl was placed in the center of the table. Her parents joined in with gathering more plates, knifes and such, as rice and peas were spooned out to form a bed of food on each plate.
“Time for the human!” Renee announced, and slopped a large portion of the thick substance on to each plate.
“Cameron, we understand if this isn’t what you’re used to. Not everyone eats this, we know. Feel free to let us know if you don’t like it,” Vivianna told me with a smile.
Struggling for words, I began to sputter out something that was barely speech when Renee spoke again.
Me: It is weird and I don't want to have it anywhere near me. The name just is very off putting.
“Hummus isn’t for everyone. We were pretty much grown before we could stomach Greek food.”
“Hummus?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, I still remember the first time we had it. Viv was just a little kid. We went to this Greek place and she looked at the menu and started to cry. She kept saying, ‘Dad, I am not going to eat human!’ over and over again. See, she saw hummus and thought it said human, she was really convinced that it was…” But Casper could no longer speak through his laughter. Renee slapped his arm gently.
“Cas, you’re going to embarrass her again! First with the stupid bird, now telling baby stories, and you know she likes Cameron… Oops! Sorry, Viv.”
“Oh, mom…” Vivianna said, but looked at me with a smile. “Secret's out now, I guess.”
We ate, I laughed and relaxed a bit.
“We like you too, Cameron. You really stood up for our daughter, and that means a lot. We wish people had stood up for us back in Austin, but it’s good to know that bold people still exist.”
“In other words, Viv, we approve,” Renee stated, causing her daughter to smile all the more.
“Shall we eat dessert?” Casper asked.
“Sounds good. Tonight we’re having Ben and Jerry!” Renee replied.
Yeah, of course, ice cream, I thought to myself. All night they’ve been messing with me, from lamp shades to beef jerky to Viv’s strange way of saying hummus. I guess they wanted to get one more jab at me before dinner was over.
“You guys stay seated, I’ll go and get it. Fridge is right in there, I guess?” I asked, pointing at the kitchen.
The family nodded. Yeah, Ben and Jerry, maybe that was the kids that were picking on her at school. In fact, come to think of it, Benjamin and Gerald, wasn’t that… No, no more games.
I walked into the kitchen to get the ice cream when suddenly there was a shrill scream from the dining room.
This scream was followed by the loud voice of Casper.
“Viv, get upstairs, Renee, call the police!”
Oh crap, I forgot all about the Tupperware. Mom must have packed one of her specialties. Damn it, mom!
So, Casper came in and held me down. The cops came and put me in this cage that I now write from. I would call my mom to come and help me out, but I have a feeling she’s probably locked up in a similar cell as my own.''
As weird as Viv’s family was, I’m really disappointed that they reacted the way they did to the dish I brought.
Maybe it’s mom’s fault for leaving the wedding ring on one of them, but still, you’d swear Viv’s family had never heard of finger sandwiches.
Written by K. Banning Kellum
Content is available under CC BY-NC Published February 9th, 2017
Last Night's Dream I was getting groceries but of course this being a dream it wasn't a normal experience. I went into the store and ended up getting a picture of one of the BookTubers whose videos I watch. I was carrying a briefcase that was as big as a suitcase but it was flat. I decided to get some food and while I was on the aisle looking at pizza I decided to go get a cart. I got a cart and started putting food in it. I decided to take a nap. I had a purse that I put near my cart. I left my cart alone for some reason. When I was walking back some guy grabbed it. I started chasing him and that's when I woke up. What the fuck?
Me: This is already terrifying. I can't help but think of Buffy. Anya mentioned some strange worlds like a world of shrimp. Can someone put me in the world of books with a doorway to the world of pizza and Dr Pepper?
I awaken. I don't know it at the moment, but this day marks my fourth straight year of existing in the dogscape. I push myself up from the carpet of writhing, twitching dogflesh beneath me and rise to my feet, stretching in the morning sun. It took me a while to learn to balance on the layer of solid dogs that now blankets every inch of solid ground, but nowadays I can walk and run as easily and as fast as I ever did on soil or concrete. Perhaps faster...
Me: Are they alive or dead? This is just creepy.
This was a city once, I think, though which one I can't remember. I only owe my guess to the massive pillars of dogs jutting into the sky, perhaps ancient buildings now completely filled and overgrown by canine biomatter. I climbed one once, sinking my fingers and toes deep into the dogwall to gain purchase, and after hours and hours of climbing was rewarded with an incredible vista - fur and eyes, panting tongues and wagging tails, hugging the contours of the once-barren land and stretching in a single aeomebic mass farther than the eye can see.
Me: Well I'm glad I didn't decide to eat breakfast while read comment on this. Who doesn't want to eat fetal puppies? Yum!
Now I don't do that, though. Now I merely go about my day. I hike to the Gardens, where the dogplants sprout up in bizarre shapes from the floor of the dogscape, and reach up to pluck the fetal puppyfruits right off the wagging, energetic branches. I bite into the succulent flesh, the juices dribbling down my chin and dripping down to be reabsorbed by the groundflesh, and revel in the savory taste. I'm thirsty, so I range until I find one of the Mothermounds, and there I suckle at a teatpatch until I've had my fill of milk. Sometimes I see other humans around me, as well-adapted to the dogscape as I am, but I barely acknowledge them, say nothing. What, after all, is there to say? The world is different now - what meaning would our old words have?
Me: This is probably a great place to go to lose weight. Would you eat in this place?
Free-ranging dogs are becoming rarer and rarer to see now, and those I do see seem as lost, as passive as I am. They too graze on the dogplants, step carefully over the undulating, bleeding dogfloor, dimly acknowledge myself and one another. In the distant sky, and on the far horizon, I sometimes see massive forms sail or crawl or undulate, and I wonder if in this new world normal, singular, ambulatory dogs have become as obsolete as I am.
Me: This place would terrify me and drive me crazy. I wonder if it would be a better place to be than where I am now since I'm dealing with an asshole. It's kind of hard to keep my temper in check considering how annoyed I am and okay the medication that would dull that is no longer going down the gullet because the prescription ran out. I called to have it renewed because it isn't my fault that my appointment got delayed.
I dug down once. Down beneath the dogs. Beneath the hair and the ears and the barking. It was hard, and took a lot of planning - I had to destroy one of the dogtrees with my hands, rip out the twisted, yards-long communal spines that served them as branches and lash them together with tendons and skin. But soon I had tools - pitchforks, spears, shovels. I picked a spot where the dogfloor seemed shallower and set to work.
The blood started spurting when my spear first broke the surface, and didn't stop for hours and hours and hours. I was drenched in gore and viscera, covered in flecks of bone and meat and brain. but I learned to ignore the sickening squelching sounds, ward off the smell, and just kept going deeper and deeper, spearing and levering out dogs of stranger and stranger size and build, dogs with two heads, dogs with human hands, dogs with writhing tentacles where their back legs should be.
Eventually I came to the end of the dogs. Or perhaps the beginning of whatever lies beyond dogs. An expanse of multicolored, patchwork fur that extended as far as I could dig in any direction. I could pierce it with great difficulty but it barely bled, and try as I might I could only barely peel the skin away, revealing a layer of striated greyish muscle beneath. It started to tremble as I watched it, shaking the very dogmatter around me, and I realized that the dogscape was beginning to regenerate itself, close in over me, seal me in - so I fled, climbing back up into the light.
Me: This is beyond gross. Maybe I should have done this later in the day. It is quite the pickle I'm in. I'm hungry but at the same time this story is turning me off of food.
The stream trickled warmly past the black leathery edges of the puppy mouth stream. The saliva waters churned as they flowed from the bed of the stream lined with the ever-lapping tongues of eager greeting puppies.
To feel a rock on the shore is to find sharp milk teeth of weened dogs, cast to the tufts of mange weeds growing into spits and bank.
The head of the stream is split by a single mound of golden fur. Like an upholstered boulder set with a large golden eye that swerves to see passing visitors. The waters will bubble and froth should the eye see you. The tongues lapping nervous loving greetings with gurgled yips.
Me: I'm way too picky to eat this. I swear if this unknown author fucking says it tastes like chicken I'm going to snap. There's only one thing that tastes like chicken and that's chicken. What is up with men wanting more than one wife? I could be wrong since I haven't done any research but it seems to be a straight male thing. Dude you do realize that means that your five wives are going to have synched up periods.
The Dogscape. That's what we call it. Us humans that banded together, I mean. We sit around campfires and cook the whelps we collect from the dogtrees. The only flammable material we have is the acrid fur that grows everywhere. It offends all senses, but soon the meal is prepared. The only food sources are the dogtrees and the mothermounds. Some foolish enough dig for meat. Though the reward is great, many don't come back, for the dogflesh regrows above them, trapping them inside the moist ground. Primitive tools are forged from bones and leather, such as shovels and knives and clothes. I have lived here for as long as I can remember. There are faint shimmers of the time before the Dogflesh, but what use is there dwelling on the past when it cannot fill our stomachs in the present? I am our tribe's scribe. My name is Dok. I used to have a real name, but it escapes my memory. I record all of our findings and knowledge in my leather pages, using dog blood as ink. There were times when there were more of us. The tribe started with as many as sixty people. Now, our numbers are as few as twenty. Our leader is Keef. He instructs us to find food, build shelter, and bring fire. He abuses his power, taking five wives and eating more than his share of the food, but those who speak against him meet death in the night. It is hellish, but there is no other choice. Without guidance, we will die out here, so we must remain under his leadership.
Me: Sleep well tonight? Shit I wouldn't be able to sleep well any night.
It has been two days since my last writing. I am lucky that Keef cannot read, for if he had seen my statements about him, I would be dead. Yesterday, one of our tribe members, Kot, was killed by accidentally stepping into one of the open dogmouths. His screams of pain as it chewed forced me to crush his skull with a shovel, killing him instantly. The bastard Keef claimed Kot's food ration as his own. I can sense the others are beginning to tire of Keef's position of power as well. Nobody spoke a word at that night's feast. I will not sleep well tonight, hearing Kot's screams in my nightmares.
Me: Oh sure the scribe knows all. That's as silly as people thinking I'm smart because I read a lot. That couldn't be be farther from the truth. Reading doesn't automatically make a person smart.
I fear for my life. Fek was killed in front of all of us by Keef today. He refused to continue digging for meat, so the monster beat him to death with his bare hands as a sign that he would not tolerate a refusal to work. I cannot stand for this much longer. Fek was not even an adult; he could not have been more than seventeen human years. This brings our numbers down to eighteen. There is Keef, his five wives, me, and the remaining 11 diggers and gatherers. The others whisper to me in secret that I should be the leader instead. I guess they think I have all the answers because I am the scribe. Only time will tell.
I was awoken at the crack of dawn by one of the diggers, Gar specifically. He told me that tonight would be the night. The others had a plan. They want me to announce that I am the new leader during the feast. When he is distracted with rage, they intend to kill him from behind. I tell Gar that I accept his plan, and will assist them tonight. What have I gotten myself into?
Me: That is just fucked up. I don't know what the point of that was. I guess Keef is super opposed to reading.
Damn them all. I told Keef I planned to replace him. He arose, filled with rage. I waited for the blow to strike him. It never hit Keef; instead it hit me. Gar was Keef's spy all along. They dragged me far away from the Gardens, and tied me to a barren dogtree. He said that a quick death would not befit me, and I will waste away under the deathly sun. I can just barely reach my journal from here. I suppose this is the end of me.
Me: Who doesn't love to snack on whatever happens to be soaked in blood? Well that was nice of it to free this dude and as a bonus maybe he'll eat Keef and set the wives free because they can't be enjoying that. I'm guessing multiple wives is a sitch that doesn't often work. I guess it makes sense if you're a sex addict and want to spill your seed all over so you have a bunch of kids. Fingers crossed that Keef is shooting blanks.
When the sun was highest in the sky, the heat became unbearable. I saw figures on the horizon. They were not human; they were the hounds that come to eat what the humans leave behind. I thought they were going to eat me. Instead, they went for the blood-soaked meatropes that held me in place. I was free. I kneeled down to the hounds, and looked deep in its eyes. I told them I knew where they could fill their bellies to the brim. It barked once in what I assume was confirmation. I stood up, and we set off to feast.
Me: I really doubt that anyone in this world could get clean. Showers would probably consist of dog urine if you're lucky or dog blood if you're not with a touch of bile on the side as a bonus.
When we reached the settlement, it was amidst their feast. I approached, death in my gaze. Keef was shocked and angry. The diggers and gatherers were quick to his defense; I guess he bribed them. I whistled, and the hounds slinked through the fur to my side. We struck like a lightning bolt. My fist smashed into Keef's face just as my hounds pounced upon his closest guards. Though I was physically weak, I was quite fast. I stole a shovel and quickly buried it into Keef's bloat while he was disoriented. The smell was sickening, as I expected from a man like him. The hounds made quick work of the rest. I helped, of course. None were spared. I made sure I had my vengeance upon Gar. The hounds were quite full by the end. I took my time and buried each corpse (or what was left of them). I leave this book upon their graves in the hopes that someone who can understand it finds it. If you do, take heed of these words. The Dogscape knows all, and is strict but fair. She provides justice where justice is due.
Me: Poor Carl.
I had a dog right after the dogscape happened. His name was Carl, he always followed me around. When I was almost dead from starving, he got me dogfruits. When I was dying of thirst, he held milk in his mouth and got it to me. One day his foot got stuck in a mouth and I couldn't get him out so I watched while it swallowed him.
A few years later when I went back, Carl was right there but he was stretched out and I went to pet him, except it wasn't him and he bit me and wouldn't let go.
I wonder if people can be part of the dogscape too?
I miss Carl.
All is one in the new truth. The dogmother is vast beyond imagining, and requires many to be kept comfortable and clean. We chosen do not go unrewarded, however. In her vast wisdom, the matriarch gives all we need. We sup from her vast teat, a hearty meal unlike any other. It invigorates, and nourishes us canistodians, and gives us more than we could have ever wished. The time soon approaches though to find new workers. The metamorphosis is upon many of us, and soon we will join with the glory of the dogmound. We are so different from the others, as they shuffle about down among the foetI groves. Many of us have a thick coat already, and old Laurence has already begun to walk on all fours. Soon we will shed our mortal selves, and be part of the dogmother... Our...mother...
Me: Running away was a good plan dude.
"I think we knew the war had been lost the day the General committed suicide. The masses of flesh and fur just spread, like waves across the cities. We found out that whatever it was, it was drinking the oceans and eating anything it came across. Airstrikes, tanks, bombs, it only slowed it down! We were living on borrowed time. It was...unstoppable. I don't think it was until later that we noticed all the dogs were gone. And then at night, the howling...It was just too much." The former soldier's face streamed with involuntary tears as he remembered the events. He sat there, wallowing in his own emotions, telling his story to a skeleton he found. "My unit...completely wiped out...I saw those tentacles, and those mouths...they tore them to shreds. I ran away, even when they called for help...IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" The dogtree shifted slightly. The many eyes growing around directed their gaze towards the psychopathic man. "YOU RUINED EVERYTHING! YOU KILLED MY FRIENDS, MY FAMILY, GODDAMN EVERYONE!" He ran and stabbed one of the eyes with a bone fragment. A howling noise emerged and a nearby dogtree swatted him several yards. He broke a few ribs when he hit the "ground". He coughed a bit of blood, but got back up and charged again. This time he ran towards one of the open mouths around and kicked several of its teeth out. It bit his foot in response, costing him a toe or two. He was so full of adrenaline he was incapable of registering any kind of pain.
He beat and tore and bit at the flesh with his bare hands until he was knee deep in blood and gore. One of the tubes he tore spilled some sort of digestive fluid all over him. It burned, but he had to go on. He dug and dug with his bare hands until the ground started to close above him. He kept digging until he found them- the heart and brain. He laughed at his fortune of finding both of them so close to each other. He jammed his hands deep into grey matter, disturbing the contents and slowly losing oxygen in his tunnel of meat. He gasped, and clawed at the heart. Tearing it out of place, he collapsed and blacked out. He awoke to many tentacles burying themselves in his body. One hit his spinal cord, and fused with his brainstem. A flood of thought hit him all at once, as he suddenly became one with the Dogscape. More tentacles connected themselves to his vital organs, as he became assimilated. He saw through every eye in the lands, and he felt every single nerve on the planet. The healing factor continued tearing him apart, but adding new pathways and connections. It wasn't long until he was entirely consumed. His memories faded away as his brain was reorganized into replacing the one he had destroyed.
It’s been three years and two weeks now since I met another human being. I know because I’ve cut a small notch in my left leg for every day, one in my left arm for every week, and one in my right arm for every year. Admittedly not the most effective way of keeping track of time, but when I started, I figured I’d be dead or this would be over before it really mattered.
Like I said I haven't met any other people for a while but I figured I would write this anyways just in case as a warning to others that might be out there.
I ran into something terrible today. Well, the whole dogscape is terrible but I mean MORE terrible. I think even among the dogscape it's some sort of crazy abomination, since the feral dogs and the ground-mouths didn't seem too fond of it either. And that screaming is not something I ever hope to hear again. But that's not the beginning. I’m sorry about this, the blood I’m using doesn't really come off the paper and I can't waste any by throwing it away and not even thinking about talking to other people for years has made me sort of bad at thinking in a straight line. But I’ll try. Let me just start over at the beginning.
The day started normally. It was my weekly gathering day so I left my tent (by the way I left the tent at the foot of the pillar of dogs in the direction of the setting sun if you want it but you probably won’t because the skin has probably gone bad by now) to collect the dogfruits I would need for the week and to fill a bag or two with milk. But when I got to the place where there should have been teats there was just a bloody mess where someone had dug deep into the flesh of the dogscape. I didn't really think much of it at first just that I would need to go looking for a new source of milk.
Then I saw it.
Me: That was really dumb. Do a little recon first before you decide to speak.
I thought it was another person at first. If I had stopped to really look first I wouldn't have had any problems and I wouldn't be writing this right now I guess. I started shouting to get its attention and I did get its attention because it turned to me and then I realized that I had made a huge mistake.
Thinking back the really long arms and the twisty body probably should have been my first clue. But I didn’t really see that anything was wrong until it turned towards me and I saw what I thought was a head was just a featureless lump of flesh. Its arms unfolded outwards each arm ending in two canine legs and the human face on its chest opened its mouth and started screaming. I figured it was bad news then and made a mad dash for the nearest pillar of dogs but it kept running after me and it was much faster. Somehow I managed to make it and I started scrambling to climb out of its reach. I didn’t get very far before there was a sharp pain in my leg and I looked down and saw that it had bitten me with one of the many canine mouths along the arm things. I screamed as it pulled me down but that didn't do much and I probably would have died right then if it weren’t for what happened next.
Out of nowhere a mouth I didn’t even see when I started climbing the dog pillar bit down on it and then one in the ground and they started chewing at it but that didn’t really seem to hurt it but it let go all the same. I ran away as fast as I could but I could hear that screaming long after I was out of sight. I didn’t sleep that night.
Just before nightfall tonight I felt like I had to make sure the dogscape had killed it and went to the pillar, but I saw no trace of it. But the notebook I tore this paper from was there and I took that.
Me: Sounds like a good plan. It would be dumb to hang around with that thing out there ready to pounce who knows when.
So now here I am. I am not going to stay around here any longer after I finish this but finding this notebook made me think maybe there are other people and if so maybe I should warn them about things like this.
So if you are reading this good luck.
Me: I guess this guy isn't a pessimist or as I call it a realist.
Oh also I am moving in the direction of the rising sun so if you can read this you are probably another person so if you go that direction maybe we can meet up and be a little better off than we were?
Tics are the only things that seem to like this place.
If I shake my head I can make it snow.
They're everywhere. During the evenings I can see massive clouds of the bastards flitting across the matted surface, making the flesh of the Dogscape quiver as they drink their fill. Sometimes candid legs of various size and deformity burst through the surface to scratch at them. It doesn't work. All the dogscape gains are vast stretches of scar marks, which the fleas feed upon.
Sometimes I rest on the side of a large outgrowth and only realize it's a monstrous tic. They latch on to one of the Deep Arteries of the Dogflesh and endlessly leech of the new world's lifeblood.
I saw a man once. It was hot that day. I was making my way for a dogpillar and saw him in the distance. He wasn't moving and as I approached I saw why. He was covered in tics. Not a single spot on him was clear. What little clothes remained on him were stretched over the fuckers There was no wind, so all you heard was the faint scuttling of their tiny legs scratching against their ludicrously swelled bodies. He must've heard me, because he opened his mouth and tried to say something. His voice was raspy, and his mouth was red, but he did manage to say one word.
Today is the 5th day of the 12th month of the 654th year. Ours is the final generation. After us, the dogscape will be all that is left and all remaining men will either absorb into mother dog or perish from this swiftly dying world.
I have only a vague memory of my mother. Whether she was killed, stolen, or absorbed, I can't say. Really, no one is quite sure what happened to the women. Slowly but surely, they've disappeared, often vanishing in the night without any warning and leaving no trace. Women are the only thing of any value in this world anymore; and the primary purpose of the tribe is to protect the group's claim to a woman, who is used for the benefit of all the members
Our tribe's woman was taken several months ago. The first month, we mourned her. She may have been a captive in many ways, but many of us could not help but become attached to her. The second, some of the men began engaging in homosexual activities with one another out of desperation. I'm sure that I was not the only one who realized that there was little meaning to our continued companionship and that soon the tribe would disband. This is the third month since she was taken and it's all falling apart. First the elder was killed over a dispute; it was really just a confirmation that the unity of the tribe no longer existed, no longer had any reason to exist without the tribe's woman. And so, we began to drift apart.
Me: That's just gross. You don't need sex to live.
I know what will come next. When tribes dissipate, the members, alone and confused, come to depend on the mother dog for sex in much the same way they do for food, warmth, and shelter. Mother dog's sex organs dot the landscape like diseased watering molehills in the dogflesh. The men find a sex organ to claim for their own and spend their days thrusting into it. Often, they find entrances near dog trees, fucking when they're desirous and eating the fetuses when they're hungry. They have no reason ever to move from their mound. In this way, men forget the world around them and become obsessed with mother dog; now not only a mother, but a lover too; it is their everything. It is common to see skeletons, either bare or being picked apart by dogs, their pelvises still pressing into a dog mound, surrounded by the still-reeking stench of their own filth.
Today is the 27th day of the 12th month of the 654th year. As I had predicted, the former members of my tribe have slowly but surely fallen into a degenerate lives as mound humpers. The desperate scum have forgotten their own humanity. Sickening. I vow never to fall into that disgusting state. And so I will walk this lonely, depraved dogscape searching. It can't end this way, with all humanity uselessly masturbating itself into extinction. So I continue, knowing I may end up hopeless utterly defeated by the dogscape.
Today is the 2nd day of the 4th month of the 663rd year. I found a woman. Standing, as if waiting for me, under a dog tree, her mouth dyed red with the blood from a dog fetus. At one time, I would have been puzzled to see a woman standing alone and unafraid. But I haven't come upon a tribe in years and incredibly rarely does one come across a man who is not mesmerized with a dog mound. I suppose this must have been the biggest surprise to her; to have found a man who has not yet become a slave to mother dog.
Me: Dude you'e no better than the others. That's totally disturbing.
In any case, it's important not to take chances. So I grabbed her, forced her down, and fucked her right there. Then I tied her down to the dogtree with a length of dogflesh rope so that she couldn't run.
Me: You mean your captive sex slave. Define human since you're scrapping at the bottom of the barrel.
Today is the 7th day of the 8th month of the 663rd year. My woman is pregnant. I have watched over her, protected her from the wild mongrels that still roamed the dogscape. When the swarms of ticks came, I covered her in a hide. I wonder if we the only ones left on this planet who are still human?
Today is the 5th day of the 1st month of the 664th year. My child was born today. My woman squeezed my hand, breathing hard, pushing. After some time, the child came. A healthy normal female infant. I saw that all my struggles hadn't been in vain, that our race did have a future. And I realized that I was crying. I held the child briefly, and then set it down to reach for my blade to cut the umbilical cord.
No sooner had I set the girl down than a furry tendril shot out from the dogtree. With a whack, it wrapped quick around the umbilical cord, gripped it tight. As the dog tree sunk into the ground before me, I hacked at the vine. But it could not be cut. Next I went for the umbilical cord tearing with all my strength to save my girl; but the vine had melded with it, and converted it into the same strong substance. And so I could only watch in horror as the dog tree disappeared into Mother Dog, dragging my woman and daughter with it. I dug after them, ripped the dogflesh open enough to watch as the mutated dogs of the upper layers tear at the child's face.
Me: There's always the option of killing yourself since that would be a much better fate.
There is no hope for the human race. The dogscape will not tolerate disloyalty any longer. And so, I commit myself to this dog mound, to become truly one with mother dog. What a damned fool I was forever thinking I could beat this world.
Galactic Calendar: Year 100 Day 1
We have arrived at the closest star system from our previous home. Our world was ravaged by war and we continued through space as nomads. We have searched for a hospitable world, and find this one to be to our liking.
We had received signals from this planet that date back at least 700 of its rotations around their star. If they are anything like us, then generations surely have changed here.
As we approached, I am puzzled, for the planet appears much different than our records indicate. The planet is a brown color, not blue, and it appears to be alive in its own right.
We will send a team down and investigate.
Our ship reached orbit around the planet's singular moon. There we gave the crew a final review of the information we knew about the people of this world. Our main source of communication we have received was in the form of signals they called "television." Our understanding of the language will no doubt appear primitive to the dwellers below.
Though personally, I feel that something is odd. We had lost all communications from this world recently. The captain assumes it was because of their switching to a higher technology. They always talked about their newest technology which looked more and more like a race that could enter that of other space-faring peoples.
I am to go down with the rest of the team by the next day on the planet. Though I watch the now-brown world and feel that something is wrong...terribly wrong.
I don't know how many days it's been since I saw the last human. It's hard for the remaining survivors of the DogScape, women have all gone and only a handful of men remain. But as I said it's been days since I saw the last one. I wondered the furry field's looking for a teat patch when I stumbled across something both very horrifying yet wonderful at the same time.
Me: Die happy? Do you mean that you'd be relieved when you finally die and leave this miserable world?
I looked down at what appeared to be a patch of both male and female reproductive dog organs. I stared fascinated as they endlessly paired with each other. I knew I should have looked away but I just couldn't. After a while of watching them breed endlessly they seemed to stop. It appeared that they finally sensed me. I almost felt bad for bad for interrupting so I started to walk away but I felt something grab a hold of my leg. I looked down to see a mutated dog paw holding tightly to my pant leg. I tried to pull my leg from its grasp but it held on. Then to my horror it started pulling me to the middle of the organ patch. I franticly began to fight to get loose, for I knew what it wanted. More dog paws sprouted up and began pulling me. I knew I didn't stand a chance. I knew that I would be joined with Dog Mother in the end, so I silently accepted my fate. At least I would die happy.
While archaic, tribal worship of the Dogmother, in all its visible and fleshy glory, is the most common form of "religion" in the barbaric Dogscape, there does exist another mythology. One practiced only in distant, isolated pockets, and by a few of the older survivors. The exact details change from tribe to tribe, year to year. But the basics never change. It is the legend of the Beginning of the Dogscape, the genesis of the world we know. It tells of a time when humans were plentiful, and walked upon ground that wasn't alive.
Me: If I was a dog person before reading this I don't think I'd be after reading this.
There is a god. Or a demon perhaps. A dog that lived amongst the humans was even accepted and provided for by a human family. But it was no ordinary dog. This beast lived for over 50 years, while canines of the time rarely lasted more than a decade. It was greatly powerful, more in control of its owner family than they were of it. They say, it went out at night and hunted human prey, bringing back large collections of bones as trophies to its home. But the humans tried to ignore it, convince themselves that it wasn't a problem.
Soon though, as the Origin Dog reached a century of age, it became increasingly powerful and unlike others. More strange disappearances and even attacks during the day. Vehicles were found with deep bite marks through metal, and homes were burrowed into from below.
Me: When does immortality ever go well? I just don't get the appeal aside from the whole no aging thing.
The government of the time, many times more powerful than any chieftain of today, captured the hellhound. They performed experiments, tried to understand where it channeled its energy from. Progress was good; it looked as though even the secret to immortality could be gained from this dog! But accidents occur. The Betrayer, as they call her, who worked at the government facility, felt sympathy for the GodDog. She released him, and concurrently, the all-consuming hell that is Dogscape.
The enraged beast no longer held any sympathy for humanity. As it thrashed recklessly through the lab, mutated samples adhered to its flesh, growing like a cancer. Soon, what would become Dogscape was spreading like wildfire, its maw gnashing at everything that moved, its hide spreading over soil, stone, and sea.
What is the name of this horrible demon? It varies, but they all come from a similar etymological origin, I believe. I've taken down names from all over the world, Armad, Me'arm, Aduke.
Me: Well that sounds accurate?
And yet, the DogMother is most certainly feminine. Well, it is said that The Betrayer was in fact, the first human assimilated into the Dogscape.
It's cold here. Jets of moist breathe dot the landscape amid undulating hills. There are no proper dog trees, only short piles of huddling dog limbs. Teats are few and far between, and when I find one I must work to coax the milk into a skin bladder.
I move across the hills, my feet numb through the shoes I have fashioned. I move in the direction that seems easiest, a subtle and mangy slope that I only just noticed was guiding my path in a general downhill fashion. Where there is fur it is thick and rancid with matted oil. I don't know why The Mother does what it does, but all of her fruits have their uses. I hack at a fur clump, separating it from the flesh below. There is only a little blood from a grazed skin tag. I fold and shape the waxy fur onto the insulating hairy coverings on my body. The dogflesh rumbles beneath me in a more than disconcerting way. It has been doing that for the past several weeks, more so the further I have traveled. It is getting colder.
I can hear only the wind now, tearing across The Mother. The howls, warbling and mournful, have stopped. The sharp barks and yips no longer form a background cacophony. I huddle into my coverings, and shoulder ahead. I have no path to follow but forward.
The ground feels harder here. The gentle give of the dogland has ceased, giving way to a dull sound absorbing thud of matted fur. I slipped yesterday on what seemed to be a lake of solid piss. It was not reabsorbing into The Mother. My own shivering seems to syncopate with the occasional rumbles of The Mother. Her flesh no longer seems like a living being, but I know that deep within her the blood flows. It is so cold here.
I continue forward every day. The ground slopes more, and I struggle to sleep in a forgiving skin fold. There is no purpose but to move forward now. One foot in front of the other. It has been dark for as long as I can remember. How long will this night last?
The air is dry. The land is mostly featureless and hard as I walk. The wind blows clumps of brittle hair across my face, and they hurt. A soft pop, a subtle blue flash, and then they blow past me. My hands are deep within my coverings. They are numb, and if I expose them to ward off the shocks then the cold will take them from me. I have already lost three toes. I can no longer feel that foot. I no longer bother to light fires in the deep crooks where I sleep, but the last I saw of that foot it was black and swollen. It felt like it was burning.
My travel is slow. I have heard soft subtle tapping sounds, but when I investigate I find only dog claws moving against the ground. The rumbles have continued, and with them now come subtle rending sounds, like a mouth chewing on a bone. When the sounds intensify I move faster. I don't know what causes them, but I do not think it is The Mother.
I have not found any teats in a long time. I am thirsty, and my skin bladder is almost empty. I would kill my own parents for a fresh puppy fetus. I passed a small pile of humans, almost buried in billowing dried fur. They were dead and dessicated. They looked like they were strong when they lived. I keep moving. There is only the road ahead of me. I do not know what it leads to.
The ground shifted beneath my feet, and I pissed in fear. Not a mouth, but a great hard chasm of flesh and bone had torn open beneath me. A stinking humid burst of air bellowed out, then hung in a cold cloud around me. On my ass, I peered into the gloomy hole that had nearly swallowed me, but it was now still. I sat and contemplated it, breathing heavily, and thought of my empty skin bladders.
Me: That's just gross.
Slowly, I could hear sounds several dozen feet below me start to play and echo in the cleft. A soft slapping. Then a gurgle. I don't know how, but I knew that this was my chance for sustenance. I slid into the meaty maw. I climbed down a shorn slab of giant ribs, still red and moist, and finally landed on the steaming dark floor of the hole. It writhed beneath my feet. I felt around, not knowing what I was looking for, when my hands fell upon a thumping tube set into the meat wall. An artery. I grabbed it, pulling at connective flesh, and then bit at it. The blood shot out in spurts, and I drank my fill. I was covered in viscera. I struggled to fill my skin bladders. The cleft shuddered around me, and I knew I must leave it immediately. The walls were starting to hang tendrils of meat, feelers, to heal this damaged canyon. I exhausted myself climbing out, and nearly fell back in as I crested the edge of the crack, out into the cold night. The dog flesh slowly mended behind me as I panted on the hard ground. Before I left it, I considered it, and cataloged it. A stretch mark. The Mother was still growing.
Me: My goal would be death because this is one fucked up place.
I am so weak, and it is so cold. My filled bladders of blood are gone, and the gray dogscape stretches before me. I must make it to my goal, but I do not know what my goal is. I have walked for what seems like months in the darkness. I climb down a huge mass of frigid dog flesh. It is like a great heap of small dogs, a pile of dog heads and legs, a mound of tails and torsos. It is cold and lifeless. A slow, low creaking can be heard deep within it. I grip an ear and lower myself to the bottom of the wall of dog. And my foot lands on something else. I gasp, then get caught in a fit of coughing. I don't know what I am standing on, but it is not The Mother. I feel queasy, nauseous. What could possibly be not The Mother? It's frigid and hard, but I scrape at it and bits of dandery coldness come up off of it. I hold them close to my face and my breath turns the stuff to water. I try to eat a handful of it, but it is so cold that it robs me of almost all of my remaining energy. The moisture trickles down my throat. It is good. I look behind me at the dog wall, with its exposed frozen bones and happy looking faces, then ahead of me at the featureless dark. I am too far gone to turn back now. I continue walking for hours, then sleep, then I walk more. My footsteps are leaden.
Finally, ahead of me, I see light. I make my way towards it, slowly, over the course of several hours. It is a beacon to me now. A bright glowing steady fire. As I approach I see that the guiding light stands on a pole before a series of low dark structures. They are like solid walls of bone, but not. They are not of dogflesh. The billowing hair and cold dandery water pile against the sides. I know that this is what I was destined for. At one end, near the light, is a dark panel set into the wall. On it are markings placed their by some person's hand, but I do not know what they say. "AIS-1" and "ENTRANCE". I shoulder against the panel, but it barely shudders. I try again, and again. I am renewed with purpose by the discovery of this place, but I am weak from my travel. I lean my back to the panel and slide down it, exhausted. My back catches against a low bar set into the panel, pushes it down, and then clicks. The panel gives way and I fall into the darkness within.
I am in a small dark, dry cave. It is alien to me. The wind blows debris and fur into the room with me. I look around. Strange dark masses seem to leer at me. There are soft white skins hanging on the wall, and more of the unusual markings everywhere. "Procedure List:" and "KEEP CLOSED" and "Warning" and "Wear Radio At All Times". A bright red cylinder with yellow stripes is inside a small box. I reach for it but my hands scramble against a clear covering across the entrance to the box. I look at my hands now. They are purple, and I can not feel them anymore. Another panel is on the opposite wall, like the one I had opened. I move towards it feebly. I am so cold. I pull on the handle set into the panel, but it does not move. A small red light flashes above it. I pull harder, but it does not move. I pull again, jumping, but lose my balance, and lurch to the ground. I smack my head with a dull thud. The cold is blowing in fiercely from the opening behind me. I scrape against the hard panel, but it will not move. More markings adorn it. "Close Outer Door First". I do not understand them. I sit against the panel. My vision is blurry, and a trickle of my own blood seeps across my eye. I go to sleep there, leaning against the dark doorway. I sleep and do not wake up.
"My name is Charles Mountel, of Arctic Ice Station one. The abomination is not here, it is too cold. Tigger and I are the last survivors. We are 14 nautical miles South of the North Pole, directly North of Vancouver. Triangulate our position based on this radio signal. This message will repeat in five minutes."
The radio broadcast the message again, as it had thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of times. A cold, dead, desiccated body sat huddled before the radio systems in a chair. At its feet lay the curled, dead body of a mutt.
Me by Barbara Desmond
Saved from 4chan's /x/ on Friday Sep 28th 2012 at 1:31 AM Eastern Time.
Edited slightly from the original thread to improve grammar and flow.
Here's my story:
>be black and have family down in Alabama
>they farm and own a huge amount of land down in Huntsville
>uncle owns a big house and a bunch of trailers they put out in the woods for hunting or camping
>down south cousins suggest that we go out there to camp
>know I'm a city kid from Chicago so they tease the fuck out of me
>collect food, kill a pig and some chickens, and bring necessities to camp out for a few days
>we get to the camp and it's obvious something is weird
>air has this weird electric smell like right before a storm, like ozone
>we think nothing of it and unpack and go down to a little creek to swim for a few hours
>All of a sudden some older white guy and a white teenager come out of the bushes
>he has a shotgun in the crook of his arm and says hello and ask us what we're doing this far back in the woods
>tell him about my uncle, who he knows, and say we're camping out
>he tells us we need to be real careful out here and stick together there was a big animal in the woods
>His son, who is my age asks if he can stay and hang out with us
>he says OK
Me: No idea what that means. I'm like the dumb version of Temperance Brennan. Oops I haven't watched that at all this season. That bitch just really annoys me at times.
I'm going to stop greentexting because the story is fairly long and the format is harder to write in.
Me: The Brits love the soccer and we love the football. It does confuse me that the Brits don't embrace the word they came up with which leads to confusion and on another note isn't Rugby football?
So we end up playing football. Dicking around with me, there's the white kid "Tanner", five of my cousins, and then four of their friends. In total, there were five girls and six boys. We all were around 15-17.
Me: Who doesn't love dicking the day away? Apparently you don't need a dick to do it which is good because I don't have one.
We ended up just dicking the day away. So, we head back to the camp and pulling out some stuff for a campfire, even though the trailers both had kitchenettes. Tanner says that his family's property sits up against my uncle's. He wants to run home and ask his dad if he can come out camping with us. My cousin Rooster says he's going to go with him since it's going to get dark soon. One of the girls also wants to tag along.
Me: I hate that I lose an hour today. I already have enough problems sleeping without someone stealing my hour.
It's about 7 o'clock, and it's starting to get pretty dark. They take flashlights and take the trail toward Tan's property. The rest of us chill. We make smores, drink and kiss on the girls.
Me: I bet it smells much better than whatever the hell the neighbor from hell smokes on what is supposed to be a smoke free property. Maybe he can't read or he's just stupid and or an asshole that doesn't care about others having to deal with the stench. Regular cigarettes are horrible but this shit is even worse.
About thirty or forty minutes later, there's the smell of ozone again. You could smell it over the smell of the fire we had started. This really nasty, coppery smell like right after you've had a nosebleed and it's stopped. It wasn't exactly like dried blood, but it was that nasty metallic, back-of-your-throat smell.
We immediately think that it's some kind of electrical malfunction, or someone left a hotplate on or some shit. We search the trailers and nothing is on, and we can all smell it. All of a sudden, we can hear people booking down the path toward us, and Rooster, Tan and the girl all come running into the clearing, out of breath. And they don't even break stride; they all run into the trailer, right by where the fire is.
Me: The only fire I've ever experienced was the time I accidentally set a trash can on fire. Everything was fine. I got it out and no harm was done aside from it scaring the shit out of me.
We all get the fuck outta there and into the trailers. They end up calming down; even Rooster is crying his fucking eyes out at this point. All the while, the fire is guttering lower and lower, so my other cousins say fuck it and are about to go outside to get the generator out of a shed between the trailers.
Me: Why didn't anyone think of calling 911?
Tanner goes, "Fuck no! Lock the front door, ain't nobody else going outside!" He's been crying too, and his eyes are bloodshot and puffy and his pants are dirty as shit.
He goes on to tell us that they went up to his house. His father said sure, he could go out camping, but to make sure they were careful on the way back, and that maybe they should take one of the hunting rifles just in case.
Me: Call me crazy but I'd be screaming at this point.
Evidently, Tanner had seen something in their yard a few days before. One of their pigs had come up, ripped up and half eaten. They assumed it was just some big cats or coyotes, even though they don't usually fuck with live animals.
Me: Oh this won't end well. I guess someone hasn't been watching Supernatural which has shown just how bad camping can get.
He had gone upstairs and packed his stuff, and told his dad they would be OK without the rifle because coyotes avoid people. So they started walking back toward where we were camping.
Me: Oh that's a great idea Rooster taunt the thing in the dark.
So, Rooster finally stops crying and shaking; the girl already had, but she was just staring out the window with a dumb look on her face. He says they had gotten halfway into the woods toward the camp when they started to hear shit in the forest. It was almost pitch black by this time, so they weren't sure at first what the fuck it was. The girl says that she heard something in the bushes right off the trail and they all beamed their flashlights over there and there was someone standing back in the woods in a little hollow. Rooster said they shouted at him and told him that he was scaring the fuck out of them and what a dick he was.
He says that's when he realized that the guy was facing away from them. So they keep walking, and they start smelling the nasty coppery ozone smell. They say that they look off into the forest on the opposite side, and it's a dude standing in the forest, backward slightly closer to the path.
Me: This makes me think of Angel and how he really doesn't like power walkers.
So now they start power walking and Tan keeps going, "I should have taken the fucking rifle."
As they're telling the story, the smell is still super strong even inside the cabin.
They say that after they started walking faster, a kind of low gibbering had started coming from both sides of the wood. And as they started booking it back to the trailer, the girl said she had flashed her flashlight out into the woods to the side of them and had seen something jerking itself through the woods. The gibbering just got louder and louder, and when they could see the light from our camp fire, something had come out of the woods about 40 yards behind them onto the track, and they had just flat out ran as hard as they could to the trailer.
Did you not hear about curiosity killing the cat?
So we're out in the fucking woods, and we're assuming at this point it's some rednecks or some shit trying to fuck with us.
Me: Goats are creepy animals and with the bogus bullshit that TV etc does when it comes to Satanism just keeps on with the bad rap for goats and Satanism. For Pete's sake read a book on the subject instead of just assuming TV shows or books get it right.
All of a sudden, my other cousin, Junior, starts going on about how he went to school with a native kid that was telling him about the 'Goatman' or some shit. We promptly tell him to shut the fuck up because we don't need any spooky talk right now.
Me: I would have been long gone by this point but that might have something to do with me having a brain that at least partially works.
But he just keeps going on and on about how it's the fucking 'Goatman,' and how we're in his woods and blah, blah, blah. Now at the time, I had never heard of this goat man or any of that, but then a couple years ago -- the year before I graduated from college -- I had a Menom for a roommate and I ended up asking him about it. And to sum it up, it's basically a fucking man with the head of a goat and he can shape shift and he gets among groups of people to terrorize them. It's also supposed to be kind of like the Wendigo, and it's bad mojo to even talk about it and even worse if you see it.
Me: It would be cool if you could just turn on and off scents. Some I wouldn't mind turning on and others I couldn't turn off fast enough.
Keep in mind, I didn't know this back when I was sixteen. So my cousin is going, "The goat man's going to get in and fucking get us." The girls are all terrified and my cousins and I are all fucking trying to figure out if it's just some hillbillies or if it's some animal.
So all of a sudden the smell just goes away. Like to this day, I haven't even experienced anything like it. Like, usually smells fade away or lessen. It just literally was there one second and then not the second.
So it's after an hour, making it around 9 or 10. We've stopped shitting bricks enough to go back outside and stoke the fire again. We figure it was just some assholes trying to fuck with us, so we don't go back home, because we think if we do, they'll chase us through the woods or some crazy shit.
Me: You stay another night. That's just stupid. Pretty much my reaction to fish. If someone shoved it in my face and kept it there I'm pretty confident I'd be puking.
Nothing else weird happens that night. And we stay another night, and for the main part of the night nothing happens. At about 1 in the morning, we're outside getting drunk and telling ghost stories. As someone is finishing some 2spooky story -- I don't remember what about -- the smell comes back. It's so fucking strong, that one of the girls literally starts vomiting.
I stand up, and you can actually feel how clammy the air is. I say we should get inside and this isn't right; we should have just fucking left.
Me: No chocolate? I don't know if I'd just it there and eat a hot dog. I'm assuming hot dog because it isn't a doll although that's spelled with a z because that isn't very appetizing and probably it is a bad idea to eat one. Also you'd probably get a massive hair ball if you ate one because those bitches have a lot of hair.
We all go back inside, and we're standing around. My cousin just keeps going on about how it's the goat man. And my cousin Rooster tries to shut him the fuck up, and all the while I'm just feeling that something is wrong, and I can't figure out what the fuck it is.
We end up sitting in there for a while; the smell is just as strong, and we're terrified and all huddled in this camper. We end up cooking brats for everybody because nobody wants to go outside. It's one of those packs with four brats. We have a total of 3 packs. I grill them up on the stove and give everybody a hot dog. I get mine. After a while, one of my cousins gets up and goes over to the pot to get another one.
Me: What an idiot.
He starts grumbling about about how I get two brats and everybody else only got one, and I look at him like he's fucking stupid. I tell him that everybody only got one because there were only 12 brats, if he wants more he should open up a new pack and cook some more.
That's when the girl that had been out with Rooster and Tan just starts screaming, "OH JESUS, OH LORD, GET IT OUT!" She's crying and shivering, and then it dawns on the cousin standing up what the fuck is wrong. Me and him both glance around the room, and then I feel my heart fucking sink. I run the fuck out of the cabin and the girl runs out with us. The trailer door is banging against the side of the trailer as everybody books out of the cabin.
Me: I bet whoever's missing got eaten since I'm sure they didn't have the sense to get the hell out of this crazy ass place.
One of my cousin's friends ask us what the fuck was wrong. I start counting us. There's only 11 now.
Me: Why are strangers camping together? That just sounds stupid.
"I shit you not," my cousin verified. There had been twelve people in the cabin. But being that everybody didn't really know each other well, nobody had really noticed the whole fucking time that there was an extra person. And then I realized earlier that I had kind of noticed something was off. You know how when you're just dicking around having a good time that you don't sweat the smallest shit, and you don't always keep track of certain stuff? I'm dead sure that someone else had been in the trailer with us, and that they had been there for at least a fucking day, eating with us. What makes it worse is, I could figure out which one because I don't think anyone ever actually interacted with the other person/the Goat-man.
The girl kept praying to Jesus and we're all sitting outside; eventually we get big-ass sticks and go back in the cabin, but there's nobody in there. We count again, and there's 11 people. We go back into the trailer and lock the door. We explain what the fuck happened, and the girl says that she realized too, and that when he was about to say something, the person sitting next to her had grabbed her leg hard and leaned over toward her and said something she couldn't understand.
Me: How are you falling asleep? I'm surprised I fell asleep that one night after I heard a voice in my ear. It said a word but I'm not sure what it was and it wigged me out a bit especially since I watched a video on YouTube where the girl had the same experience. Well the nightlight will protect me.
So we are pretty much scared as fuck as we huddle together, and I fall asleep. When I wake up, the sun is just coming up, and half the people are asleep and the other half are packing our shit up.
Me: Leave the four people behind and just go.
We all want to walk back home, but like four people want to stay until the sun is all the way up. And some people think that we're just fucking around and still want to stay at the trailers. I just want to get the fuck out of the woods.
Me: This bitch has a brain or at least it activated after she was touched in a bad way.
The girl's name was Keira, the one that the Goat-man had touched. Anyway, I asked her if she really thinks it was something bad, and she says she just wants to go home and she doesn't want to be out in the woods alone for another night.
Me: Call me kooky but I really doubt locking the door is going to matter to the goat man. Why didn't you just wave it at the idiots and tell them to go before you started shooting?
So we decide to split up; the four that want to go can go, but I have to stay because I have the keys to the cabin and it's my uncle's and I have to lock up. I'm super pissed at this point, because I feel like people aren't taking this shit seriously, and I definitely didn't want to be out in the woods for another night. I spend the rest of the day trying to convince the rest of the people -- now 4 girls and four guys -- to get the fuck out of dodge. Tanner leaves with them to go get a rifle and says he's going to be back. So there are just 7 of us left by 4 PM.
Me: Tanner you're stupid. I bet he was eaten by the goat man after all goats eat a lot and if you're some hybrid of a goat and a man you probably have one crazy appetite.
At around 5 PM he hasn't made it back yet, and we're getting extremely fucking antsy, and the only reason I stopped begging them to go back was because he went to get a gun.
Me: Maybe she was infected with stupidity when she got touched by the goat man. I really don't know but I might since I still have more to read.
it's about 5:30 PM or so, when the one cousin that did stay says that the girl Keira is outside. We all look outside, and sure enough, she's standing by the fire pit with her back to the cabin.
I'm thinking to myself, if she was so fucking scared, why the hell would she come back? And then I get this nasty feeling in my gut. Keep in mind, the whole time the coppery smell has been gone. Now I realize I can smell just a twinge of it.
I say this to the rest of them and everybody -- and these are the people that wanted to stay in the fucking woods after we had the goddamn Goatman in our midst -- is laughing at me and asking if I set this up to scare them.
Me: Why aren't these people leaving?
I'm looking at them like, "I'm not fucking bullshitting you at all right now." I ask them why the fuck would I play like that? So one of the girls goes outside to get Kiera. She gets halfway to her and stops cold. Keira starts heaving; I don't know how the fuck to describe it. Sort of like if someone with their back turned was laughing without actually making any sound. It was this fact that made me realize there was not a fucking sound in the whole woods; it was dead silent.
Me: The woods aren't going to be quiet but a cemetery is after all it is just filled with dead people so you're sure to get some peace and quiet unless someone goes around raising the dead.
This was like later in September, so it was still fairly hot at the time, but it was super chilly some days too. And you could usually hear big-ass geese honking or some kind of birds or squirrels chitchatting.
So I step out the door and tell her to come back in the fucking trailer right goddamn now.
She backs up into the trailer and we lock the fucking door. We pull down all the shades except one, and put a guy there in a chair to watch her. She stands there for another 20 minutes or so. The guy turns to say that she's still there. And there's a HUGE fucking bang on the door.
We all jump the fuck up and scramble around the living room of the trailer. The banging is super fucking loud.
So now my cousin is holding one of the girls and the other two are kinda giggling with nervous laughter and me and the other two guys are shitting bricks.
Then we hear Tan. He's screaming.
"LET ME THE FUCK IN, STOP FUCKING PLAYING!"
So we go over to the door and open it, and he stumbles in with a rifle. There's nobody else outside.
Me: Dude you have a gun why didn't you just fire it?
Evidently, he had walked up to the campsite. Nothing weird happened in the forest, but he had seen a girl. Mind you, he said it was not Keira standing there. When he had gotten to the edge of the clearing, she had turned toward him with the slack jawed look and just stared him down, slowly tracking him as he walked around the outside of the clearing towards the camp. He said it wasn't till he was almost halfway to the trailer he had realized that she was getting closer to him. She had started off by the fire, and without him even seeing her move she had been turning, inching closer. He said he just ran the rest of the way back to the cabin thinking it would open. And when he got to the door and it was locked, he turned and it was about half the distance to the door.
He looks around the room and then gets super pale. He pulls me to the side and whispers in my ear, "You know there are only seven of us in here, right?" I get that feeling where you stomach drops to your nuts. It had been back inside the trailer while we were sorting out who was going where, and then when we all went outside to talk earlier in the day. It has just slipped right back in.
Me: I think it is long overdue for me to start throwing things at the screen but I'm resisting the urge because I don't want to break anything.
We looked out the window and there is nobody out there. So we recount everyone and then basically, I go over and ask everyone how many people were here earlier. And everybody says 8. I say, "Well, how many are here now?" They all do the count and then realize there are only now seven people in the cabin.
Me: A few hours? Why would you hang around for a few more hours?
So Tan had brought back a couple boxes of ammo and his rifle. And he had told his dad that there was some kind of animal in the forest because he didn't think his dad would believe him if he said it was Goatman. He says that his cousin is supposed to be coming down in a few hours and that in the morning we can all go back to his place and his cousin will drive us home.
Now I'm really fucking terrified, but I at least feel better because we can be American and shoot the fuck out of whatever it is if it comes back. But then my cousin gets into this huge argument with one of the girls because she thinks that I'm trying to be funny and prank them, and that she's getting really scared and that I'm not funny. He keeps telling her I'm not that kind of person, and she says, "Well, how do we know the girl wasn't just Tanner in a wig? Or if it's really the Goatman, how do we know that this is the real Tanner and that Goatman just didn't kill Tanner in the woods and take his gun?"
Me: One perk of just having a fake pet for a best friend is that I don't have to worry about some random person showing up and going unnoticed.
So we fucking get into a huge argument about this, where me and Tan are like, "we could seriously be in danger because at the very least someone has been sneaking themselves into our fucking trailer without us knowing and mingling with us, and at worst, something bad is in the forest fucking with us."
One of the girls is crying and saying she wants to go right now, and we're trying to tell her we shouldn't because none of us are walking through the woods in the middle of the night. At this point the sun is starting to go down and it's getting a little cloudy out.
Me: You're not the only one confused but for me that's pretty much most of the time.
We eat something and turn on the radio for a while, but we can't really get a station out there with anything decent. So we turn it off at about the time that Tan's cousin shows up. He was like 19, I think. At this point, the sun is just barely over the horizon and he has one of those heavy duty lantern flashlights and another rifle. He walks up to the trailer and we whisper to Tan asking if he's sure that's his cousin and he says yes.
The guy looks behind him and all around the camp, then walks in. He kind of glances at all of us and looks a little confused.
He says, "Where's your other little buddy at? I figured she would meet me up at the cabin. Is she a little slow or something?" He also asked whether we had been cooking blood in the cabin, because it smelled like blood and hot pans all the way up the trail. We are all like fucking "NOPE." But we ask him what the fuck he's talking about with the girl he saw.
He had come down the same trail Tan had been using and he had come up on "one of youse guy's buddies" standing in the middle of the trail, looking at him slack jawed. He had asked her a bunch of questions, but all she did was just look at him. Then, she smiled at him and he said he kept walking. She couldn't seem to keep up with him and kept lagging a little behind him. He said he asked her if she was hurt or something, and if she needed any help. But, she had continued to stare. Eventually, he had been walking and turned around a bend in the trail. But when he turned around and went back to see if she was okay, the trail was empty. He'd assumed she had taken some short cut through the woods to our trailer.
Me: Why are you still there? Go on your way? Did this guy not have a truck?
We tell him the whole story of what's been going on. I half expected him to say we were full of shit, but he just listened and then sat down on the couches in the living room.
Tanner's cousin gets back to the girl. He says, when she had kept trying to lag behind him, it had kinda weirded him the fuck out, so he tried to keep her in front of him, but no matter how slow he walked, she was always lagging a little behind. And that he smelled this nasty smell, and it got stronger as he got to the camp. Eventually it got really strong. She had said something really low that he didn't catch, and when he had turned around she had been right the fuck up on him, and he stepped back from her.
It was at this point he asked her if she was okay, and if she wasn't, him to carry her back the rest of the way, and she just kept staring. He said he reached out for her, as in to grab her on the shoulder, but he must have "misjudged the distance" because she was off to the side of where he had put his hand, like she had moved while he was looking dead at her.
So at this point, we know this shit's real, unless Tan is playing a joke, which we can tell he's not because he's almost pissing his pants.
Me: Why are you sitting around? You have guns. Go on your way dummies.
So they load up their rifles, we eat some more, and we just kind of sit around until about 11. To this fucking day, every time I think about this, I really pray to God that it's some huge prank that my cousins played on me and just never revealed so I would shit for the rest of my life.
At 'round 11, the stink of copper turns into an actual nasty gross blood-like smell, like cooking blood and singed hair. Tan and his cousin, Reese, get the fuck up instantly and grab the rifles.
Me: Don't get the door. I only get the door for the mailman. I just hate that the stupid peephole is too tall. Did they not think about the shorter people when they decided to install one in the door? On the door?
There's like a half-knocking, half-clawing at the door, and I shit you not, there's this voice, and it sounds like when you see those YouTube cats and dogs whose owners teach them how to "talk." It says in this halting, weirdly toned voice, "Let me the fuck in, stop fucking playing."
It made my fucking nuts creep up against my body, and one of the girls just starts crying and calling on Jesus.
Me: I have the cadence of being dead inside.
It was so fucking obviously not a person talking. It didn't have the right cadence, and that's some shit that I never realized until that moment, but all people have a certain cadence when they talk, no matter what language. All people have a certain kind of rhythm to talking.
This shit didn't have any kind of cadence or rhythm. One of those YouTube cats, that's what the fuck it sounded like outside the door. So now I'm in full on terror mode. We keep yelling outside, "Who is it? Stop fucking around, man!" and it just keeps saying, "in" or "Let me the fuck in" for almost 15 minutes.
It sounded like this almost, just not funny. Sorry for being on a tangent, but if you can't imagine how this shit sounded, then you can't imagine how fucked up the whole situation was.
So then the smell goes away for a while. And for the next hour or so, you can hear someone basically creeping around in the woods and shit. Every couple minutes it'll come back into the door, and say something.
Me Is someone going to finally do something?
Finally when the smell fades away, it's around 2 in the morning right now. Reese says, "Man, fuck this!" and opens the door and walks outside with his rifle.
He fires a shot into the air, and says something to the effect of, "In the name of Jesus Christ, go away!" He fires two more times, and then from the woods right up against the river across from the trailer, it sounds like something is slowly jibbering and hooting.
Then it starts screaming and it sounds almost like a woman and a cat in a bag screaming together. Like I seriously have never heard any shit like that, and you can hear the brush over that way start to shake, Reese fires over into the treeline and then starts backing into the house.
We lock the door, and we can hear this shit keening and screaming. Reese says something had come out of the bushes, super low to the ground and crawling toward the cabin. He had shot at it.
Pretty much, that was how the rest of the night went; it was literally screaming constantly for the next two hours, and we could hear shit moving out into the treeline. But it never came back up to the cabin until everyone had finally fallen asleep.
Tan had been sitting in the chair watching the door with his rifle; nobody else heard or saw this, and he told me two days later, after the whole thing was over.
Me: How are these people sleeping? I have enough trouble getting to sleep without creepy times in the woods.
He said he had been nodding off after the screaming and noises finally stopped, and he had been almost asleep when he saw someone come out of the bathroom and then lay down in the middle of the floor and go to sleep. He just assumed it was one of us and he had nodded off.
Then he said he kind of realized something was wrong, and while pretending to be sleeping, he counted us. There were 9 people in the cabin. He basically didn't want to try to shoot at the fucking thing in the cabin and have it kill us all then and there, or have Reese wake up and start shooting and then we kill ourselves. So he just stayed awake all night, pretending to be asleep.
He said sometimes, it would stand up and kind of do this weird jittery thing, or heave like it was laughing. But then it would lay back down.
The story closes pretty weak, because from my perspective nothing happened. We woke up. And I noticed that Tan was a little jittery, and that he was avoiding looking at all of us. But we ate some breakfast, packed up and started walking to his house. He stayed last in the cabin and said he'd lock up and bring me my uncle's keys; to just start walking and he'd catch up. Which I didn't really want to fucking do.
We got a little bit up the path, and when he came running up, basically we just jogged back to his house. His cousin took us home.
There was a window in the bathroom. Tan had gone back to lock up and looked in there. We were too stupid to lock a screen less window. The window was fucking up when he went in there.
Me: Always make sure everything is locked.
I'm guessing it had been doing that all along, waiting for us to fall asleep or slip up and then getting in among us. It walked with us all the Goddamn way back to his house, and then he said it lagged to the back of the group and looked him dead in the eyes before walking into the woods.
Me: Even though I hate the sun I take my read walks during the day. So far I'm not finding this to be a walk friendly neighborhood. I really should see if there's one of those little free library thingies. They have one near where I used to live but I never took or put anything inside it. I did take a look but didn't see anything that interested me. They aren't big on street lamps around here so I'm not sure how I'd feel about taking a walk at night.
About five years ago I lived downtown in a major city in the US. I've always been a night person, so I would often find myself bored after my roommate, who was decidedly not a night person, went to sleep. To pass the time, I used to go for long walks and spend the time thinking.
Me: Duh of course something is bad to happen when you're out at night by yourself. We can't all be Xena or Buffy. I only recently learned how to make a fist. The thumb goes out.
I spent four years like that, walking alone at night, and never once had a reason to feel afraid. I always used to joke with my roommate that even the drug dealers in the city were polite. But all of that changed in just a few minutes of one evening.
It was a Wednesday, somewhere between one and two in the morning, and I was walking near a police patrolled park quite a ways from my apartment. It was a quiet night, even for a weeknight, with very little traffic and almost no one on foot. The park, as it was most nights, was completely empty.
Me: That's weird. I read walk so this dude dance walks. If it was me I'd run and I never run.
I turned down a short side-street in order to loop back to my apartment when I first noticed him. At the far end of the street, on my side, was the silhouette of a man, dancing. It was a strange dance, similar to a waltz, but he finished each "box" with an odd forward stride. I guess you could say he was dance-walking, headed straight for me.
Me: I would have crossed the street. It is crazy how many idiots I come across when walking. Guess what I'm more likely to notice you even though I'm read walking than you are to notice to me. It really annoys me when I get out of a person's way only to have them get in my way which forces me to move again. Just one of the reasons I'm not really a fan of people. I kind of like the dog I encountered the other day. The little guy ran across the street and I asked him why he was following me and kept walking. He went back across the street to his home but paused in the middle of the street. I tried to get a picture of him but it didn't work because my so called texting gloves doesn't always understand that it is supposed to click but doesn't always click although it beats being a weirdo wearing one glove and having the other bare hand in my pocket that comes out to turn the page.
Deciding he was probably drunk, I stepped as close as I could to the road to give him the majority of the sidewalk to pass me by. The closer he got, the more I realized how gracefully he was moving. He was very tall and lanky, and wearing an old suit. He danced closer still, until I could make out his face. His eyes were open wide and wild, head tilted back slightly, looking off at the sky. His mouth was formed in a painfully wide cartoon of a smile. Between the eyes and the smile, I decided to cross the street before he danced any closer.
Me: Run like the wind.
I took my eyes off of him to cross the empty street. As I reached the other side, I glanced back... and then stopped dead in my tracks. He had stopped dancing and was standing with one foot in the street, perfectly parallel to me. He was facing me but still looking skyward. Smile still wide on his lips.
Me: Stop looking back and just run you idiot.
I was completely and utterly unnerved by this. I started walking again, but kept my eyes on the man. He didn't move. Once I had put about half a block between us, I turned away from him for a moment to watch the sidewalk in front of me. The street and sidewalk ahead of me were completely empty. Still unnerved, I looked back to where he had been standing to find him gone. For the briefest of moments I felt relieved, until I noticed him. He had crossed the street, and was now slightly crouched down. I couldn't tell for sure due to the distance and the shadows, but I was certain he was facing me. I had looked away from him for no more than ten seconds, so it was clear that he had moved fast.
Me: Weirdly a bush looked like a person until I got closer. The bugs on the ceiling hallucinations are super creepy. It is always weird that if I look away and look back up the shadow bug is where it was when I looked away. It then decides to keep moving when I look up again. Just me?
I was so shocked that I stood there for some time, staring at him. And then he started moving toward me again. He took giant, exaggerated tip-toed steps, as if he were a cartoon character sneaking up on someone. Except he was moving very, very quickly.
I'd like to say at this point I ran away or pulled out my pepper spray or my cellphone or anything at all, but I didn't. I just stood there, completely frozen as the smiling man crept toward me.
Me: Stupid much? Run you idiot.
And then he stopped again, about a car length away from me. Still smiling his smile, still looking to the sky.
Me: Could this person be a bigger idiot? Don't talk to the strange man. Remember Stranger Danger. Okay I would stop for a stranger if he wooed with me with books or he waved around a gift card for Book Outlet, Amazon or both.
When I finally found my voice, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. What I meant to ask was, "What do you want?!" in an angry, commanding tone. What came out was a whimper: "Whaaat…?"
Me: That's just creepy. Don't you have any self preservation at all? Run you moron.
Regardless of whether or not humans can smell fear, they can certainly hear it. I heard it in my own voice, and that only made me more afraid. But he didn't react to it at all. He just stood there, smiling.
Me: And you're just standing there with your thumb up your ass. Could you be a bigger idiot? I'm still debating on whether or not I'm Waldorf or Statler? That's the name of the guys in the balcony on The Muppets. I love those guys even though I had no clue what their names were.
And then, after what felt like forever, he turned around, very slowly, and started dance-walking away. Just like that. Not wanting to turn my back to him again, I just watched him go, until he was far enough away to almost be out of sight. And then I realized something. He wasn't moving away anymore, nor was he dancing. I watched in horror as the distant shape of him grew larger and larger. He was coming back my way. And this time he was running.
Me: About time.
I ran too.
Me: Yep I'd be totally paranoid by this point. Oh wait I already am.
I ran until I was off of the side-road and back onto a better lit road with sparse traffic. Looking behind me then, he was nowhere to be found. The rest of the way home, I kept glancing over my shoulder, always expecting to see his stupid smile, but he was never there.
Me: Hooray for getting an ounce of smarts.
I lived in that city for six months after that night, and I never went out for another walk. There was something about his face that always haunted me. He didn't look drunk, he didn't look high. He looked completely and utterly insane. And that's a very, very scary thing to see.
Credited to blue_tidal
Me by Barbara Desmond
Continuing the theme of Walmart I thought I'd mention some donuts I tried. I did get a cup of glazed donut holes that I thought were good and they were ninety-eight cents so hooray for cheap. I wonder if the cup was for people like me to reuse after eating the donuts. My dinnerware is used by kids so why not.
Anyhoo I ended up finding donut holes that were chocolate and as a bonus they have sprinkles. The reviews on Walmart weren't that great but I'm going to say what I think about them. I do laugh at the date on them. Oh please those donuts were gone long before the dates could become double digits. Silly Walmart like I'm going to have donuts around for that long. It was a nice change to have chocolate donut holes since that isn't something I've come across often. They are usually not chocolate. Okay I'm blanking on what they call it. Plain cake? No idea but I have to say that I've never come across sprinkles like this before.
Are they the best donuts ever? No they aren't but I did like them. It's not like I have a donut shop to go to since there's no Dunkin' around and I think Winchells might be extinct. I miss that place. I used to walk up there to get donuts except for that one time when someone got hit by a car right in front of the place. Instead of getting a donut that day I turned around because I'm not one of those people who has to stop and stare at car accidents. I guess I could see if there's a place near me but I'm not holding my breath. Hell I didn't find out about the Dunkin' near me at the house until after it was too late. Can places be a Mandela effect since this just might be one? I still reject the s at the end of Chuck E Cheese. That's the name of the guy so why would there be an s at the end? This place was right down the street from me when I lived in California oddly enough by a gun store but it did not have an s but now the one near me does. The whole thing with The Home Depot could be just a simple matter of most people ignoring the word the. I feel bad for the word the and can relate to it.
The donuts are tasty and thank the gods for having them when I had my period last week but the sprinkles are very strange. I've never had sprinkles that linger on my hands. They stay around and are more powerful than Doritos and Cheetos since the cheese usually comes off pretty easily. The sprinkles almost dye your skin the color of them so it does take effort to get that off. That's my only complaint. Where do these sprinkles come from and why are they so strong? I've never had lingering sprinkles before. I don't think I've ever had a donut with sprinkles that had sprinkles that stuck to my fingers like these do. I don't know what it is but it is strange but that won't stop me from eating these donuts because I do like them and do appreciate that they give you a nice amount for a not too ridiculous price.
I was going to try to go to the library but decided against it because of the temperature and the wind. It doesn't take much to stop me from going there even though I want to go there. I just wasn't expecting a library that's more than a library. It also opens at an awkward time. Unless you count that trip to the mailbox to get mail I haven't been out since Friday so I thought I'd go out. I don't know why weekends are designated stay in days but they are along with most days when I'm on my period.
Anyhoo I got dressed and bundled up because it was much cooler today. It was like winter since it was like thirty and unlike that crazy book I read that claimed thirty was really hot it wasn't. Maybe thirty is different in England after all they dial 999 in an emergency instead of 911. I think the number should be universal and should work regardless of what you're typing in the phone. If I'm in England am I really going to think to myself oh over here I need to type in 999 instead of 911? No bitch I'm typing 911 because that's what I've typed in on the other times I've called it. Sure my shirt is technically a Halloween shirt but it is cute and fuck it I'm wearing it.
This is the kind of day where it is a nightmare to be read walking with a book so having the phone to read on is a good thing and another perk is being able to read a long book without the weight of carrying it. I've come to appreciate ebooks but they will never replace physical books. Am I going to show off my ebook collection with pictures of the covers so I can be surrounded by books which I find comforting? No I'm not. I'm reading Chainfire in case you were wondering and yes I'm annoyed with Nicci and Cara because it is so typical for others to question Richard when they think they know what the fuck's going on and they really don't. I am determined to catch up on the Sword Of Truth series because I really want to read Death's Mistress. That bitch is crazy.
I still find the walking experience here to be strange with half of the crossings having a button to push to cross the street. Instead of saying hey I'm here to cross it is more like hey where's the button or here's a button that says I'm here and the response is so the fuck what you're going to have to wait because pushing the button doesn't do anything here. Of course there was that one idiot that went in the exit and it was someone from the money truck. Dude go in on the left and exit on the other side and the reverse for when you're in the store. It was on my way out that I had the holy shit that dude looks like Matthew Gubler from Criminal Minds. Yes I had to look up his name because I swear it was spelled differently before but I'm not super sure about that. The guy looked like a long haired version because this guy had pretty long hair as in past his shoulders but looked so much like him although this guy was in a chair so I'm assuming he can't walk but who knows since it could be a temporary thing. Hello you're going in the wrong door dude that's pushing him at least I think he was being pushed by a dude. I'm not sure.
I decided to go to Walmart because the light was a go for that direction. If I went to King Soopers I'd have to cross the other street and cross another street along with a journey across a parking lot that includes going by Discount Liquor and Dollar Tree before going through another parking lot. Since I was going to Walmart I figured I'd be able to find a nice box of cheaply priced Saltines. I get crackers at King Soopers that are really cheap as in under a dollar cheap and so cheap they don't have a name but they do have a cute owl on the box and actually taste good and have a nice amount of salt not too much and not too little. Since I needed peanut butter I thought I'd get that and get some Olay body wash which is what you should buy if you have Eczema on your hands. They have a pump and it is huge. It lasts over a month and doesn't hate my hands like regular soaps do. This time I decided to be a little daring so I got the few bucks cheaper one that is supposed to like Olay. I'm not sure how that is going to go.
I was really running low on the soap and was even using the mystery Herbal Essences is this body wash or dish soap because I was at that point where you had to keep slamming on the pump in the hopes something would come out. So far I haven't been able to get the pump pumping so I think I'll have to pour it into the other bottle which is a pain in the ass. I might look at it later to see if I can get it open. I hope this wasn't a mistake but damn it I really wanted to get that cute little peep so my little arrangement on the counter wouldn't be off balance. It needed something on the other side because I'm strange and have a thing about even numbers. I just prefer them. I got the pink peep and got some peeps that you eat with it. It was cute and now that I think about it my purple one went missing. I don't know where it is but I can say that about quite a few things because I'm still waiting to get the rest of my stuff. It sucks having one earring with the knowledge that the other one can easily be gotten if only something would happen that I've been waiting for an eternity.
I seem to be having an easier time with finding my way around Walmart. The new King Soopers sucks because it isn't arranged the same way which is strange since they tend to be arranged the same way. I get the peanut butter and okay a little chocolate because it helps keep the bitch a little less bitchier and I deserve it after what happened last night. Thanks a lot asshole for blasting music that sucks balls when I'm trying to sleep and thanks to the insomnia that didn't allow me to sleep. I'm surprised I slept at all last night and I'm in the midst of making a plan to find out the apt number of this guy so I can bust him on the whole smoking thing. This is supposed to be a smoke free property and the stench and butts around the place suggest this asshole doesn't care but I do because shit it stinks. Maybe he's a serial killer and he's cooking his victims during those times. It travels through closed windows and fills the place up with a horrible smell. I can't describe how horrible it smells. I'd rather be surrounded by my own shit because that is more pleasant than this smell.
I checked out the crackers and the cheapest one I came across was $1.78 so when it comes to crackers King Soopers wins because I can get more than one for that price. That was disappointing but at least I got my little peep guy that is now sitting on top of a book and hanging out on one side while the little bear is hanging at the other end. I wonder where the purple one went. I'm pretty sure I had one possibly from Walgreens but it didn't come with peeps that you can eat. Yes I'm weird. Just like there are times when I enjoy Funyans the same can be said for Peeps but not the weird ass flavors. I prefer the regular flavors although I do think I tried the chocolate ones once and got it free because the cashier didn't ring it up and this was one of those times when I went to an actual person. I love when that happens. If only it would happen on something really expensive. Anyhoo so far this day has been super not exciting. I didn't get the number and now I'm wondering if tomorrow will be the day that I go to the library or maybe I'll get my hair cut. It has been a while or I could go wild and cut it myself since that always goes so well.
Me: I would be a bit wigged out if I actually looked out the window and saw someone since I'm on the second floor. I went from the basement to the first floor and now I'm on the second floor. I always keep the blinds closed.
Jenny walked over to bed and got in. The mattress was cold, so she decided to get up and grab a jumper. When she put it on she noticed something in the corner of her eye; a figure outside her window. She thought it was just her mind playing with her, but seeing as she was on the bottom floor it could be a person. Taking care not to provoke whoever it was, she walked over. It was raining outside, and very dark. It was deathly silent.
Me: I'm not ten and I'd be a bit wigged out right about now.
Jenny felt a chill down her spine as she walked over to the window to take a closer look. She saw that the figure looked like a small girl, no older than Jenny. It was just a silhouette, the only thing that she could see was a small figure with long hair. Jenny heard a noise from behind her that made her jump around immediately. On the wall in her room, a message was being engraved: 'Don't turn off the light'. She couldn't stop staring at the message. Her heart was pumping rapidly. She could feel it all over her body. Her muscles were ceasing up in her arm as her fingers and hands were shaking fast. She was only ten and easily frightened. Her legs fell weak and she dropped to her knees.
Me: I'd say crawl your ass out of there but that's just me.
She laid on the ground for around a minute taking in what had just happened. She tried screaming, but only air came out of her mouth, she was far too weak to do anything, it was like an iron weight was pulling down on her throat. After another minute, she became able to stand again. Immediately, she remembered the girl at the window, was she still there?!
Me: Well don't invite her in unless you want her to suck you dry.
She turned to face the window and fell back in fright, she was there, staring in, blood dripping from her face, eyes wide and angry. She didn't have teeth, she had fangs. She had the face of a screaming child, Jenny fell back into her desk. She felt something sharp go into her back, it was a pencil from her stationary set, jammed right into her. She started screaming and crying, but silently. She couldn't scream. Jenny tried several times to call for help from her father who was upstairs but couldn't. A thought came to mind that it was the creature at the window stopping her from talking or shouting. Her eyes couldn't stop staring at the girl at the window. Its grin, the blood, the eyes that look into you. Jenny reached her back and pulled out the pencil. It was covered in blood. From upstairs Jenny could hear someone moving around. Her heart jumped a beat, she was going to get help. Into her room walked her father. She smiled, she was saved. The Father picked Jenny up and saw the stab wound from the pencil in her back.
Me: Anyone else confused? Where did the pencil come from? Did I miss something? Am I just really stupid?
"Jenny, what happened sweetheart?" She looked at the window. It was gone. Then Jenny made the mistake to look at the door where her father had just came from. There she was. Standing in the entrance to her room. Jenny tried to scream and tell her Dad, she couldn't.
"Jenny! Jenny what happened! Talk to me sweetheart." She tried to hit her dad to make him look around, but she was being stopped. The creature was stopping her. Tears streamed down her face as the girl, with the grin, the blood, the fangs, the eyes moved towards her Father. But then the creature looked up at the light, which was still turned on. Her mouth closed. And then with the most agonizing and with the most angry face, ran out of the room. Jenny was able to speak again.
Me: Wouldn't that be the pencil? Those things can be deadly in the right hands.
"Jenny! Will you tell me why you're destroying your room!" The Dad, who hadn't seen a thing, placed Jenny down on the floor. She felt great pain in her back as she sat on the floor.
"A girl at the window, wrote that!" she pointed to the writing on the wall, to which her dad gave a great gasp.
"It was the girl, Dad, she did it! We can't turn off the light!" The Dad shook his head and started to wipe Jenny's back with a wet tissue, and in no time the blood had all gone on her back.
"Jenny, you have to go back to bed now!" Jenny started crying and screaming as the image of the demonic girl came back to her.
"Will you stay with me then Dad? Promise you will!" The Dad nodded and sat on a small chair in the corner of her room.
Me: If you're tired enough it is possible to fall asleep with the lights off. At least have a nightlight handy for times like this.
"I'm going to have to turn the light off Jenny, or else you won't be able to go back to sleep!" She obliged and got back into her bed.
Her heart started pumping fast again as she started wondering what was going to happen when that light went off. Maybe it was watching what was going on. Maybe she was watching whether or not the light was turned on.
The light went off.
"Are you still there, Dad?" she mumbled, fear in her voice.
"Yes, go back to bed."
Me: I'm thinking Dad is dead, dead, dead.
Jenny turned over in her bed and closed her eyes. Silence. But something was strange: she had expected her Dad to have left after five minutes. But that never happened. It was well over ten minutes now, and her Dad never moved. She smiled at the thought of her Dad being loyal and making sure everything was okay for the whole night. But she wanted to make sure. Jenny hobbled across he bed to the lamp at the side of her bed.
The light went on
Me: See I told you about the pencil being deadly in the right hands.
"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh, No! Dad! No!" And her dad was there. Dead. Her Dad had been mutilated. His bottom jaw was removed. The tongue was left to hang out with blood leaking from the mouth like a tap. His clothes had been ripped off to reveal a massive slice ripped down the chest. One of his eyes had been impaled by the same pencil that had been in Jenny's back.
Me: I'd faint too. Me and blood don't mix. I can watch horror movies but if there's blood in reality I get woozy.
Me: I can't help but think of that episode of Supernatural where there was that fucked up family that hunted people and used their parts for arts and crafts. Who wouldn't want a candy dish made out of a human skull?
When she woke up, she wasn't in her bedroom. She was in her living room on one of her chairs. Tied up. Her legs were tied to the bottom and her arms were tied to the side. Jenny was also gagged. The girl was standing in the side of the room, with a knife. Jenny started sweating with fright. She was crying so much that her eyes started stinging and she could hardly see. It moved close and closer to her. The creature grabbed Jenny's arm...and bit into it. Jenny's head flicked up in pain and her chest was in pain from the attempt to scream. Her arm went numb as the creature pulled out some flesh. Jenny's heavy breathing became annoying for the creature. So it repetitively stabbed her in the chest with the kitchen knife. The gag in Jenny's mouth became blood stained from the blood being pumped through her mouth. Jenny's eyes rolled back as the pain became unbearable. The creature made its final move, and slowly began cutting with the knife at the neck. Jenny cried as she knew her death was soon, but not instant. The pain was incredible. After thirty seconds her head was removed, and the little girl was dead. The creature, the girl, started eating Jenny's head from the inside out.
Me by Barbara Desmond
Random things that happen to me. Might be boring or might be entertaining. You decide. I will also post reviews on random things when the mood strikes me. I rarely remember my dreams but will post about them when I do recall them.