Author: James Happyman
Posted: March 06, 2000
Bozo in Sadland part one: new lease on life
Character created by Mark James Argyle
Written by James The Happy Man
It’s funny how things turn out, isn’t it?
Bozo was just your ordinary clown, working six days at the local circus, making people happy, doing all the self-effacing things that clowns are expected to do, and then, one day, the yucky circus master told him that he was no longer needed. The circus was under-budgeted, he had said, and Bozo had to go to make room for its survival. The conversation had been a laconic and mercenary one, but it had left an indelible mark on Bozo’s life, because all he had ever had had been the circus. The funny little circus. The place where Bozo had spend the majority of his youth, and all of his adult existence. It was all he ever wanted, but now…well, there was nothing for him. Nothing but his small cold apartment and a bottle of cheap, sour wine that only deepened and widened the cold hole inside him.
Bozo trundled down the alley that led into his pathetic dwelling. His fat, clumsy feet traced an uneven path through the debris, the soles of his old leather boots making hollow, clicking noises in the cold night.
He was wearing a white shirt and a tight pair of black pants.
Far from a funny clown suit.
He cursed, throwing his rage into the solemnity of the evening. No one out here cared. No one out here wanted to watch and laugh at a funny clown. It was just a great big empty, a baleful void which demanded nothing, expected nothing.
Bozo felt an unfamiliar malice boil inside him. It hurt. Everything hurt when you were not where you were supposed to be.
Still muttering under his breath – an incoherent farrago of curses and forgotten intentions – he fingered in his short pocket for his key. He found it, and pulled it out, studying its perfect, unsullied surface in the sparse moonlight that seemed to single him out.
That was how his life was supposed to be – perfect, whole, natural…not like this, never like this!
Resolve hardened in him. He would take back what he had lost, he swore to himself, he would reclaim his empire of happiness and content. But how?
Pondering the pressing quandary, he approached the dark rectangle that was his door, thrust his key into the shadowed gauze, and amazingly, heard a metallic snip as it slipped into the keyhole. That had never happened before. He would always have to get out his torch, or find some other light source so that he could see just what he was doing – let alone where the actual keyhole was – but tonight…well, it was most likely a fluke, but nevertheless, it instilled a sense of confidence in Bozo that he thought he would never again attain. It was a twisted, obscure feeling of confidence – verging on sardonic – but it was confidence. That was all that mattered right now.
He walked over the threshold, and into his den. He flicked on one of the lights, the yellow pall apathetically illuminating the depressing panorama of his life – strewn debris, left-over food in left-over dishes, magazines that could only denote personal dissatisfaction, and a dirty carpet that underpinned everything like depression itself. Bozo had never had nothing – not in the ways of material possessions at least. But before all of this happened, that hadn’t mattered, because he had had the circus – the place where he could leave behind all of his gloomies in a great big box, and adopt the comfortable, ameliorating persona of someone who lived in a perpetual Happyland.
But now Bozo had been exiled from that place; that place of fantastic, wonderful dreams.
Now he was caught in Sadland.
However, he thought as he lazily threw himself onto the sofa, he would do everything in his feeble power to gain entry back into that place of funny things and happy times. And he would start by making himself happy.
He picked up a copy of last week’s Time and flipped through it disinterestedly, his mind a disconnected blank. All of the words seemed like small ants to him, things not worthy of his concentration of his time. No, he would have to look elsewhere for some satisfaction.
But what did make Bozo happy?
Apart from being kind and funny, he couldn’t think of anything. Everything else had been repressed from alert consciousness, everything else had sunken into a hole that hadn’t been scoured for many a year. But surely now was the time to see what really, really could make Bozo all happy again? Then he would be a happy clown again!
Invigorated, he jumped up, almost ran out of his apartment, threw the door closed, and raced down the alley to explore the real world that he had so long denied.
The first place he went to was the gun shop.
He didn’t know why, but something was hammering at the back of his brain – constantly, inexorably – coercing to follow a path he didn’t know existed – and soon enough, he was standing in front of a simple, single-storied establishment that was really nothing more than a primitive shed, replete with a faded red awning and two glazed-over windows that looked out into the night like two somnolent eyes.
A warm, golden pulse was still reaching out from the shop, so Bozo decided to take his chances, and it felt good.
Feeling somewhat confused, his stepped into the shop. All around him were guns – every type of gun that you could imagine – the only non-metal delineation a tall, emaciated man that brooded over a small desk at the front of the building. He was wearing a painfully neutral expression, almost as if he was consciously trying not to let any emotion whatsoever find comfort in his features.
Bozo approached him, his body shivering with unfamiliarity.
The man looked at him with cool diffidence. Bozo, after all, he was now as plain as any other man. He didn’t have a mask of make-up anymore, just a mask of mediocrity.
He moistened his throat and tried to let his thoughts form naturally.
"Ar…what do have in the way of…" He trailed off, looking at his feet. He knew that his face was red – for more than on reason.
"In the way of what?" the vendor retorted, his voice an slur of apathy.
"Of…well, things to make me happy." There, he had said it. But what did he mean? Did he mean that – deep down inside – gun and the use thereof provided him with pleasure and satisfaction.
How could this be? Bozo, the happy clown, the funny little man who had all the jokes and made everyone laugh, a gun-happy repressed psychoneurotic? No, it was a reality too confronting to deal with. Better not to think about it and just go with the flow. Yes, and then he would be in Happyland once again, with all the little pixies – the naiades, the elves – of utopia. Just get the gun, go, and get on with it. Whatever it is.
"Yeah, I’m sure that everything in here would make you happy, but, well, you see, there are things like laws, and those laws mean that you can’t just walk in here unless you have all the right shit…you know?", the man said, his lazy demeanour perking as the prospect of a purchase rose above him like a coruscating ball of fire.
Something deep inside Bozo – something that had been hiding for much too long snapped fiercely. A series of anger-flashes ignited through him, spurring him to a rage that was so foreign to him, it scared him to the very marrow of his bones.
"Just give me something!" he yelled, throwing himself across the counter, his cumbersome body jarring against the sharp edges of the makeshift desk.
The vendor disappeared from sight, but then, in a moment the passed like alien quick-silver, he was positioned a few centimetres from Bozo’s face, a .33 in his right hand.
"This is loaded pal, so why don’t we just all calm down hey? All calm down?" he said, the gun looking like a good friend in his callused palm.
Bozo hesitated for a moment, his steely, steaming resolve combating with rationality. But the latter dissipated in an flash of impetuosity.
"Now!" he yelled, lashing out with his right fist at the exposed, reddening – inviting –cheekbone of the man.
But his fist never got there. The man fired –
it had been loaded
, and Bozo felt cold lead soar through his lungs, absorbing and draining his life, pulling him into the depths of death. He saw strings of blood arch from the wounds, hanging in the air – suspended by pain – and then he felt something else. Something hard, cold, but tangible – sweet, honeyed, full – something that he held on to, grasped, pulled himself up with. He swam and swam, and surfaced.
The man’s mouth was a perfect O. Bozo couldn’t even imagine what a resurrected clown looked like. He didn’t want to.
He went to one of the display cabinets, smashed it with a now immortal hand, and lustily grabbed a magnum .22. He was so full excited, so full of everything - but funnily enough, he couldn’t hear his heart beating. Oh well, that has comedic merit, Bozo thought inchoately.
As he left the shop, he collected some bullets and a sense of guilt that went as soon as it had come.
Bozo had been spared by something and now he was determined to make the most of what he had been given.
An indefinite existence.
Coming out on the 14/03/00:
Bozo in Sadland: PART 2
‘Yucky Clown Things’
Posted: February 25, 2000
The Cat from Hell
As the car turned the corner a light gray tabby was crossing the street. The driver of the car didn’t realize he had hit a cat even after he left. As the bumper came in contact with the cat's head it flew through the air and hit the sidewalk with a loud *SPLAT*. The driver continued on at a high rate of speed. If you were to look at this cat you would see that it looked like an apple after being stepped on, its skull hung in pieces. The cat’s name was Roger. He slowly got up and limped to a pay phone and somehow called his master to retrieve him from the side of the road. The master thought this as a bit queer and thought it was just a bunch teenage pranksters, but his gut told him something different, so he drove to the corner and found his pet lying in a pool of blood at the side of the road. He ran to the cat and knelt down beside him and cried. He looked up and screamed in terror as Roger sat up and ripped his throat to ribbons. The master fell over gurgling and holding his throat Roger pounced on the man’s back and bit in his neck ripping the flesh from the bone. The man tried to scream but his voice box was destroyed, he collapsed to the ground in a pool of his life’s blood. Roger licked his lips and limped slowly away as if he was sorry for killing his master. Someone in the neighborhood must have heard the commotion and had called the police since a white police cruiser drove up to the curb. The officer got out the car and walked slowly to the sidewalk to where he found the mutilated body of the young man. The officer had to fight off a fit of nausea as he saw the man’s head come detached from the body when a rat climbed onto it, it rolled to the edge of the curb and came to rest against the cruiser’s front tire. The officer called for an ambulance. The ambulance came and so did the chief of police. The site and condition of the body flabbergasted the chief. Then he saw more blood near a bush and called for the forensic people. Roger watched the police swarm the crime scene and laughed. He couldn’t help but laugh at the sloppy way the police handled the crime. Roger's stomach started to growl so he walked under the bushes and slowly made his way away from the crime scene.
The forensic people said that what looked like a domestic cat’s teeth bit the man. This development puzzled Chief Matthews very much. The thought of what this monster will do next scared him dearly. The chief went to his cruiser and drove to the station to make a report of this night's killing.
As the chief was driving to the station Roger was leaping off the ferry and running up the ramp heading to the main road. At the main road he turned right into a park that had many kids playing around the playground. Roger slowly made his way to the playground; there he hid behind one of the posts and waited for the right moment to strike. His chance came, as a little kid of six, slid down the slide. He was the last of them to leave. Roger followed him a short distance then he made his appearance. The kid looked down at Roger then brought his hand down to pet him, but withdrew cause of the smell wafting off Roger. The kid was unsure if he should run home or stay and wait for an adult. Roger made that decision for him, Roger jumped onto the kid's head and extracted his claw and sliced the kid's throat from ear to ear blood gushed out in a torrent and he kid tried to scream, but the flow of blood coming from his throat cut it short. He collapsed to the dirt floor twitching; Roger lapped up the spilt blood that pooled around the fallen child.
After, Roger lounged around the playground for another victim, but none came by, just the police and ambulance attendants, they took boy's body to the ferry terminal where an ambulance boat was waiting; Roger decided to wait till dark to kill again.
That night at the deceased boys home his family was grieving and trying to answer all of Chief Matthews' questions. Roger had gone to the boy’s home to see what he could get. At the moment he was looking through the kitchen window watching the chief trying to find answers. The boy's mother could not stop crying and was shaking so hard her husband had to hold her tight. They were saying he was their only son and they asked Matthews who would do such a thing to such a great boy. Roger snickered and thought I did ma’am and you can’t stop me, ha ha ha. Roger jumped down off the windowsill and limped to the front door, there he continued into the house. All the policemen saw him. They just thought he was the victim's cat. Roger limped to the living room, slid under the couch and waited for the police to leave, an hour or so later the police finally left. The family soon went to bed. Roger waited while the mother cried herself to sleep. He then crept up the stairs to the daughter's room. Inside he could see the girl of sixteen sleeping soundly. He quietly leapt onto the bed and walked to her head and again extracted his claw and slit her throat from ear to ear. She never saw the light of day; neither did the parents they were both slaughtered before sunrise. By dawn Roger was already on his way to the island next door.
Roger quickly swam over to the other island to continue his rain of terror. He arrived shortly after dawn, as he walked out of the water he shook himself dry. He didn't know this island very well so he slowly made his way up to a road witch looked well used. The pavement was old, worn, cracked and chipped in several places. Roger made his way down the road to an intersection; there he turned left and walked until he found a house. This house was about two stories high and had a slanted green metal roof. The occupants didn't know that they only had hours to live.
Roger made his way to the back door and checked to see if it was unlocked, which it wasn't. The injured cat climbed onto a nearby windowsill and looked into the house and saw that it was in shambles. The kitchen was a mess there were dishes piled high and the floor had cockroaches running all over on it. This disgusted Roger but thought that this would be a good start if any. Just when he was about to leave to find a hiding place until dark he heard music pouring out of one of the second story windows. Roger thought for a moment and decided he would climb the drainpipe.
Roger gingerly climbed the rickety pipe to the nearest roof; there he jumped off and slowly walked up to the open window. He looked in and saw a teenager about seventeen dancing to the sound and was paying no attention to him.
The young boy's name was Travis and he looked like a moron from Roger’s point of view. So Roger decided to use him as his first victim. This boy looks stupid enough to let me in, thought Roger. He meowed loudly over the loud music. The boy turned around startled. He looked a Roger at first with disgust then with pity, which Roger detested entirely. The boy just stared at the oozing mess on the top of Roger's head. Roger was ready to just kill that kid right that minute but he kept himself in check. Roger meowed again and the kid responded by walking over and picking Roger up careful not to touch his oozing head. Travis took Roger downstairs and carried him to the study where Travis picked up the phone and made a call. To Roger this was weird; it was if the boy was asking permission to keep him, Roger squirmed in Travis' arm trying to get away.
Travis was phoning the island vet, he asked her to come and have a look at this cat which to him was a goddamn mess. The vet said she would be right over. Roger tried to getaway but Travis held onto him with surprising strength. The vet arrived and Travis took Roger outside and showed him to her. She made a face of pure disgust. Roger stunk of rot and looked like a piece of garbage that had been laying for two years straight, when she went to check his head Roger brought his claw out and sliced her cheek to the bone. She screamed and grabbed her cheek. Travis having very little brains just stood there with a dumb look on his face. Roger squirmed out of his grasp and tried to slice Travis but he moved fast he grabbed Roger's front legs and twisted them until they broke in two. Roger howled with pain and rage he bit Travis on the arm and tore the flesh from the bone leaving ridges in it. Travis let go of him and ran for the house and the phone. Roger fell to the ground but could not run away since Travis had broken his legs. The vet looked down at Roger but did not move.
Travis was on the phone with the police before Roger had hit the ground. He said a mad cat has bitten him and badly wounded a local vet. The police said they would send someone over to help. The officer who arrived was not ready for this. He got one look at the vet and Travis and called for an ambulance. While the officer was tending to the vet and Travis, Roger crawled away under an abandoned car body and waited for the excitement to begin. The officer called Chief Matthews and reported of a mad cat. Matthews said he would be there as soon as he could. He arrived two minutes later from a police boat. The young officer told him what he found when he had got there. The only problem was that the cat had somehow disappeared. The officer told him about Roger's broken legs and said he could not have gotten far.
The police tried fruitlessly to stop this terror from continuing. This monster was always one step ahead of them. They had to think like him, which was quite hard considering Roger was dead and rotting. Chief Matthews was sick and tired of this so he held a meeting of the countries strongest influences. He wanted ideas on how to kill this monster from beyond the grave. This important meeting lasted for what seemed like hours, but was only two. During the meeting everyone had the same thing on his or her mind. What the hell was Roger doing this very minute. Not knowing this scared everyone.
Roger had started to feel tired since his last kill. His body was starting to decompose at a fast rate. His exposed brain had started to harden, which caused him to not be able to think clearly. To slow the process down he had to feed more often, but since he felt so tired he could not fight off a strong foe. In that case he had to feed off the young and old. There was still a problem for him, ever since he had started to feel tired he could not take the light of the sun, it made his eyes hurt and gave him a pounding headache. So Roger decided to only hunt at night, in a way this was good. The police would have a harder time finding him in the dark.
Chief Matthews was scared stupid when he first laid eyes on Roger. At the time Roger's flesh had started to fall off and he had lost one of his eyes when a sniper shot him. The bullet had passed out behind his head spraying the harden chucks of his brain. He didn't even flinch as the bullet passed through. That scared the sniper so bad he pissed himself. Roger growled deeply within his throat, he blinked his single eye and stared at the police chief. Matthews stared back and slowly withdrew his 44 Magnum pistol with a sandalwood handle. He knew Roger couldn't jump at him since a young teenager broke his two front legs earlier. Matthews loaded it with a silver bullet and cocked the hammer he aimed it at Roger's mangled head. Roger saw this but could do nothing but backup closer to the wall, which had him pinned. There was a dead silence before the chief pulled the trigger. The gun made a deafening bang as the bullet exited the pistol and flew threw the air toward Roger’s head. It came in contact dead center between the eyes. There was a hiss then a crack as Roger's skull split in two. Then with a roar a yellow green mist flowed from the bullet hole, the chief backed up in surprise and gasped in fright as the mist thickened then grew, the rest of the officers got up and ran in a panic screaming there heads off. The mist floated for a moment then dissolved into the air leaving behind the thick scent of sulfur. Then all was quiet except of Matthews labored breathing. Roger's body lay in a half rotten heap. The coroner went to the body, but went cautiously expecting Roger to lash out. The body remained still. Matthews said to the coroner. "Cut off the rest of his damn head and let’s have peace." The coroner sliced off Roger's mangled head.
The family affected got on with their lives. Travis and the veterinarian went to the hospital for their injuries and were released soon after. The chief was later committed to a mental hospital; he had gone insane when had shot Roger shouting he was still alive when he wasn’t.
Author: Brandon Waardenburg
Posted: January 7, 2000
A small cloud of darkness invaded his room from the
small crack between the carpet and the door. It billowed
uncontrollably, surrounded by a surreal dense fog. The
cloud rolled over the foot board of his bed kneading it’s
way up the flowered duvet. Up on his shelf, next to the
door, a small innocent snow globe was silently eaten by
this black pillow, consuming everything in it’s path and
converting it to darkness. It rolled up his heaving
chest and covered his mouth. His nostrils flared and his
eyes widened with fear. His white-knuckled fingers
gripped the sheets of his bed as the cloud choked at his
shrinking throat. He vaulted out of his bed clawing at
the night air and ripping at his clothes, praying this
would help him breath. He felt helpless.
The pink walls dissolved to black, a black that was
beyond humans conception of black. The shag carpet turned
to ash; a gray, rancid, and sulfurous ash. Everything
in the room melted in the intense heat. The clothes that
clung to his body melted and merged with his skin,
burning and blistering his now hairless limbs. Ashes
that consumed the floor crawled slowly and patiently up
his smooth legs leaving pain that could kill thousands of
men, but for some reason he wasn’t dead. Was he?
The room no longer became his bedroom but became his
cage. A blunt thought of suicide entered his mind. His
eyes scanned the barren space, searching for a sharp
object; maybe blunt, it didn’t matter. Nothing was
there. He stared at his naked body, still heaving with
suffocation when he leaned back to scream...
He leaned back to scream, when the room was quiet.
Now the room was just as quiet, still quiet. Not a sound
emerged from his throat. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t
whine, and he couldn’t surrender. The force that held
him by throat consumed him; ate him up and spat him out.
His head reeled back and he felt a drip. One by one he
felt cold drips fall upon his face and his arms. He
thought the rain would ease his current state. To feel
the wetness on his tongue would be the best thing in the
world right now.
His tongue left the confines of his mouth, surging
into the black stillness. With one swift motion he
scraped the outsides of his lips, feeling the wetness on
his tongue. He felt a small tremor of shivers run down
his spine and he felt good. He smiled and licked again;
it felt better. Then the rain became warm. Still he
licked his lips and held his mouth open to the sky. The
ashes that housed upon his legs scurried away like
spiders, leaving his red bitten legs. Were they spiders?
He didn’t care, the rain was here. Still it got warmer.
He licked his lips again but this time it wasn’t cool and
refreshing, it wasn’t cool or refreshing at all. It was
warm and salty. That taste was all too familiar, like
had tasted it before.
In one tremendous gush liquid burst through the
black unseen ceiling, tackling him to the ground with
infinite force. The water he tasted now became blood,
warm, stale, pungent blood. The back of his throat
heaved and gagged. He spat and vomited, brushing the
blood from his lips. The room became a sea of blood.
First a puddle, then a stream, now an ocean. He opened
his mouth once again to scream. It filled to the brim
with blood. He choked on the blood. Coughing and
sputtering, he used his arms in a swimmers motion, sights
aimed for the top. He kicked his legs, or did he? He
couldn’t tell. Am I moving? He thought. Surely I must
He swam hard, then harder. The distance left
appeared longer than the distance he’d traveled, making
in a frivolous journey. His lungs cried for air, his
muscles hungered for oxygen and his feet yearned for dry
Just then a wrenching derived from his waist. It
bent him in half with cosmic force that his head was now
where his knees should be. Feeling around his hip he
found a strap, a chain strap made of brawny metal links.
The chain wrapped once around his mid section joined by a
five pound metal cinch and extended down to the depths
below, or maybe that way was up? Through his idiocy he
pushed himself harder towards the way he thought was the
surface. Surely he should have drowned by now. Or was
that even the intention? Has it been seconds or hours?
That he didn’t even know. As quick as the blood came, it
consigned, fading, like everything else, into the night.
At this moment he heard a whining. A high-pitched
blood-curdling screech, higher than tolerable. He
clutched his ears to fend off the sound but still it made
no difference. The pain overwhelmed his mind as he
thrashed around on the ash-laden floor, arching his back,
kicking the air, and slamming his head to the ground.
The screeching continued but he couldn’t hear, the pain
continued but he couldn’t feel, his mouth opened but he
couldn’t scream. He clenched at his ears ripping them
apart from his head. He stared at his hands, bloodless,
he couldn’t bleed.
He stared at the ears he held loosely in his
calloused hands still contemplating if they were actually
his. His skin began to dissolve, dripping from his
starched-white bones. Yet through his rib cage his
heart, stained dark with sin, still beat rapidly,
pounding a monotonous rhythm. He screamed. He heard it,
he could scream! He lashed out at the unbroken air with
his voice as he beat his bones upon the solid turf. In
mid scream he noticed it. He felt no physical pain, no
anguish, just him alone with his thoughts. He sat and
relished upon his life. Tears streamed down his ash-
stained cheeks. His voice cried out to everyone but no
one could hear him. He rolled to his knees buckling
before the darkness. If only I hadn’t been such a prick.
He thought. If I had only listened--only listened--
listened to my pastor. If I had only listened to my
parents. If I had listened-just listened to anyone.
Being alone with his ached tortured more than the torment
and the torture. Just listening to his own voice admit
these things to himself hurt more than everything. He
would rather take the physical pain than endure the
mental pain. He cried out to the Lord hoping he could
taste a little bit of heaven, but his cry fell on deaf
ears. His thirst for the Lord was strong, but it was
strong when it was too late--when he was dead. He
thirsted for heaven when nothing else was left, when the
Devil grabbed him by his soul--when his name had been
scalded into the damnation of Hell.
He heard the cries of many, yet he only heard the
cry of one. He heard the voice of God say, “Why have you
forsaken me? Your life was none other than sin in the
flesh. You wasted your life on worldly things, on human
pleasures. You may have satisfied yourself for eighty
years, but you will be unsatisfied for the rest of
eternity. I’ll let you decide who’s right.”
A life was over but an eternity had just begun.
Author: Chris Thompson
Chris Thompson's Homepage
Posted: December 18, 1999
Zack ran through the bushes. It was night, and the cool midnight breeze blew into
his face, taunting him. He screamed, but no one was there to hear him. The only sense
he had was the feeling that someone was following him, and he must get away. So he
ran. The grass brushed against his legs, in long, penetrating strokes. He was wearing
only a pair of shorts.
He could tell he was in a field somewhere, somewhere he had been before. He
remembered nothing. The cold bit into him, thorns stuck into his foot. But if he stopped,
he would die. He felt it. It was certain that death was trailing him. Horror filled his
head, shrieking to just keep running, he would find a way out soon, some sort of
salvation! Doubt drowned out the thought, and there was no mercy.
There was no moon, he could only see with his night vision, and his vision this
time was not very well adjusted. He could hear long, determined footsteps behind him.
Gaining on him. His speed was not enough right now, so he increased it. The footsteps
behind him also increased. LOOK AROUND, LOOK AROUND! his mind screamed.
Looking around, he knew, would only stop him, shock would seize his heart, and he
would collapse, writhing in the bushes, the weeds.
He felt it now, the end of the line was nearing, drawing closer, and it was
inescapable. He couldn't breathe, but it was best to keep running. Something horrible
was behind him, and it, especially it, was not going to run out of breath.
His body convulsed in the darkness. The thing could see it. As a matter of fact,
he could see it perfectly well. It grinned its timeless grin, he was closing in for the kill.
Soon it would all be over, the hunt, the run, the trek. A messenger, was he. A messenger,
and a deliverer. And he would certainly be the first person do deliver the reaping of the
Zach knew now that there was no hope, except for the hope that this was all some
horrible dream. And that was a grim hope. This was too real to be a dream. BUT IF
YOU STOP YOU DIE, ZACH! He ignored his mind. Whatever was trailing him was
going to run out of breath. The big question here was, was it going to run out of breath
before he did? Zach did not know, as he would never know. Deep down inside, a part of
him doubted continued life in about five minutes.
The landscape was not a kind one. It was unchanging and unliving. It was
endless. It was the messengers favorite hunting ground. He had never had problems
before, and doubted he would now. This one put up a fight, but hope, or resistance, was
useless for anyone. Nonetheless, the prey would not stop running.
The end is drawing close, Zach thought, and hopefully I mean the end of this
field, this dream, this... whatever it is. Was there ever a question that he would stop
before the person following him did? No, he thought. No question at all. This place was
cruel, it was like a trap, and a trap in which Zach would not, could not escape.
He stopped. There was no use denying it now. No possibility of escape. It was
time to stop delaying the inevitable. A cold, unsympathetic hand fell upon his shoulder.
Posted: December 16, 1999
Alex drove up the steep pacific northwest mountain road, four other people in the news van with him. He was determined to get the story... Deep in the rocky mountains, a large group of people had disappeared while on a hunting trip. This wasn't the interesting part, however, the interesting thing about the story was the fact that it was a BIG group of people. About 36 to be exact.
The news van rounded the corner and screeched to a halt. Right in front of the van were the hunter's vehicles, "Geez, about time." Eric exclaimed, it was about six in the evening now, "how far do you have to go to shoot a deer anyway?" (they had been driving for about four and a half hours now). Eric was about 5'10" and was fairly husky.
"Eric, zip it!" Sally, a tall brunette with quite a nice body, replied.
"Both of you shut up." Alex said, not even looking back at them. "I think we just found our story."
"What do you mean? All we found were their SUVs. That's nothing, where are the missing people?" Jake asked.
"Well then, lets go!" Alex said. He opened up the door. "Wait, where are you going, Alex?" Sally called.
"We can't drive around their trucks, this is basically a cliff, and that van is no sport vehicle." Alex said, "just grab a couple of cameras and follow me."
Fortunately, there were still footprints from the missing hunters. They had only been missing for a day or so, and the weather was in their favor, sort of. It was cold out and there was a slight frost, which kept the footprints frozen in the mud.
After walking for an hour, the road they were following ended, but the footprints they were following were still very clear, because there were a ton of footprints. Jake wondered how these people expected to shoot anything with that many people.
"Wonder what these guys were expecting to hunt?" Alex asked.
"I was wondering the same thing." Jake said.
Soon the group came to a slight clearing, and the footprints ended. "What do you think happened?" Sally said.
"Ohhh god..." Eric dropped to his knees and vomited on the ground. Jake ran over to him, and
immediately withdrew in horror. "Y-you guys have to see this."
Alex and Sally hurried over and saw three of the hunters, they were dead, and it looked like they had been beaten to death. But it also looked like they had been chewed on. Not by an animal, but human teeth. There was a look of utter terror in the hunter's frozen faces.
Sally's chin quivered, "U-u-uhhhgggg" she backed up holding her head.
"Jesus..." Alex said, he lifted a camera and took a few pictures of the bodies. "L-let's go" Jake helped Eric up and they followed Alex deeper into the woods, they noticed a small path with marks like something had been dragged down the path.
The sun was well past setting, and darkness had finished setting in. "What are we going to do now, huh Alex??" Sally exclaimed, "It is dark and we have no shelter, no food, and we can't get back to the van before we freeze to dea-woah"
Right as she said that, the forest they had been walking through opened up to a huge clearing. The moonlight streamed down on a large building, and a huge concrete wall surrounding it. Barbed wire covered the top of the wall, but what seemed odd to them was that the barbed wire was facing inside, like a prison. The building was fairly run-down, but still in semi-good condition. "Well, this is how it always starts, isn't it?" Jake said, " 'hey look, there is some shelter. Let's sleep there for the night, then there is an axe murderer chasing us up stairs and cutting phone lines. . ." The group walked toward the concrete wall.
"Oh... my... god... I know what this is..." Sally said, in a trance, "this is one of those, um, what are they called?"
"It's an insane asylum..." Eric said, not looking away from the building.
"It looks like a prison to me, look at the bars on the windows." Jake said
"No, it's a lobotomy factory all right," Eric said, "notice how the windows are, say, 5 inches thick! But there are still signs of people scratching or hitting them or whatever. But these places were shut down in like the 50's or something." He moved up to the large iron gate. "So, we can probably sleep here tonight, and get back to the van tomorrow. That is, if we can get by this gate." The gate was firmly closed, and it looked like there was a very big safe-type lock on it.
Jake walked forward to Eric, "Are you insane? I think you deserve to be locked up in this place! There was or IS a murderer in these woods somewhere." Right when he said that, the gate's lock clicked, and the gate swung open a little bit.
"I thought I heard voices out here." a professional sounding voice uttered, a short, stocky man walked out. He was wearing a white, ruffled lab coat, and had small
spectacles on, which really stood out because of his bald head. "How did you people get out to a place like this?" he said.
"We were trying to find-" Sally started.
"A-a good place to camp." Jake said interrupting Sally.
"Camp? In this weather? Sounds like fun." the man said. The group looked at each other kind of confused, it was the middle of the night, and couldn't be more than 20 degrees outside.
"So, uh, I hate to ask you this," Alex said, "but would it be possible to stay here for the night, say in a waiting room or something?"
The little man looked kind of bewildered for a moment, "Well, I don't see why not... Follow me." He turned and walked toward the building's main door. Alex looked at his watch, 1:16 am, October 2. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep in this place.
The man (they guessed he was some type of doctor) led them into a small room, there was a large reception desk, it was dusty and a bit run-down, just like the outside of the building. The doctor looked up at them, cracked a thin little smile, and walked out of the room through a side door, and they heard the click of the lock.
Jake laid there, he heard Eric's loud snoring and wondered how he could possibly fall asleep in a place like this. This place was freaking him out. He wished he had a watch so he could see how long until the sun came up. He saw Alex sit up. "You're awake too, huh?" Jake said. "Yeah, I don't even want to blink in this place..." Alex replied.
"How long till we can get outta here?" Jake asked.
"It's five after two right now." he said.
"Jesus..." it had felt like forever. Just then, they heard a loud thump, as if a person had fallen to the ground. Jake and Alex jumped up to their feet.
"Oh god, what was that?" Sally exclaimed, jumping up also. Eric opened up his eyes, "What are you guys doing?"
"We heard something," Jake said, "sounded like a person falling over." Then they heard a loud moan coming from behind the locked door, it sounded like it was in pain. Jake looked at the large wooden door.
"Should we open the door?" Alex asked.
"Are you fucking crazy??" Sally exclaimed, "something bad is behind that door, I can tell. Let's just leave it locked. I think I would rather be out in the woods than in this creepy place."
"Yeah, me too." Jake said, "in fact, I'm gonna get out of here right now..." He got up and went to the main door, he turned the handle, and the door didn't open. "Shit, he locked this one too!"
"What?! No, no I have to get out of here, I can't be locked up in here!" Sally was getting claustrophobic at the thought of being stuck in the small room. All she wanted to do was go home and cuddle up with her boyfriend, she didn't even care about the story anymore, and she was the most stubborn of all of them, but she was scared...
"I can open up the door," Eric said, "doesn't look like that tough of a lock, come on Jake, on three." Eric got up and moved to the door, he waited for Jake to get hold of the handle, "One... two... THREE!" the two men hit the door, and they heard the crack as the lock broke and the door swung open.
"Oh my god! I LOVE you Eric!" Sally ran forward and hugged Eric. Eric was very excited, he had never met Sally before this story, but from the first time he looked at her body, he was in love. She released him and Eric looked out into the area between the main door and the locked gate. There were lots of clouds in the sky, but the moon was uncovered, and moonlight was lighting up the whole area. Eric walked out up to the gate, he looked back and shrugged his shoulders, something caught the corner of his eye, he looked over and saw a child, no more than ten years old. The kid was just standing there, staring at Eric. This made Eric quite uncomfortable, "What are you doing there, kid?" Eric looked up at the others, Jake shouted, "What's up? Can we unlock it?"
"There's a kid out here!" he replied.
"What?" they said.
"A kid, over there!" Eric pointed at the kid, he was walking toward Eric, Eric noticed that it was a little boy, he had a patient's robe on, and his hands were behind his back. "What have you got there, kid?" the boy pulled his hand forward, and revealed a small 9mm hunting pistol, he was holding it upside down, obviously he didn't know how to use it. "Woah, kid, you better give me that, you'll hurt yourself." Eric reached for the pistol, and the kid swung his other hand forward, which was hiding a scalpel, Eric jumped back, and felt the running of his warm blood down his hand, and looked at his arm, seeing that the kid had slashed his wrist. The kid moved forward, still staring at Eric's face, no expression. Eric noticed the large scar on his
forehead. Eric backed up and kicked the child in the stomach, the kid stabbing him in the calf with the scalpel. Then he fell to the ground. Eric turned toward the group, and just started noticing Sally's screaming, he bent down and
picked up the pistol, and started running, while limping toward the others.
The clouds covered the moon, and the light went away, making it virtually black outside, Eric felt a hand grab the collar of his shirt, ripping a big streak down the back, he turned, pistol-whipping his assailant, whom he couldn't see. He heard a loud grunt, and heard whatever it was fall to the frozen ground. He breathed out a sigh of relief, just as he felt a hard bite on his arm, Eric screamed out in pain, he felt the blood running down his arm and whoever, or whatever was biting him was still attached. He was hitting it hard with the pistol, but it held fast, he put the barrel to it and fired the pistol. The thing bit even harder and fell to the ground, tearing the flesh from Eric's arm. Then he felt something hit him hard in the leg, he yelled and dropped to the ground, the moon came back out from behind the clouds, and Eric saw that he was not even near the main entrance, he was around the corner, and it was a world different from the front, the windows were almost all
broken, the bars removed. Lights in the building were flickering, and he heard the screams, and moans of pain inside the building, even worse, he saw a group of inmates moving toward him, and standing above him, the one that hit him in the leg, another inmate, he had the leg of a chair or something in his hand, and the last that Eric saw was the makeshift club coming down on his head...
Sally was screaming and crying, Jake was yelling out for Eric, and Alex moved out the door a couple of steps, when the moon came out again, Eric was nowhere in sight, but they had heard him screaming.
"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!" Sally kept repeating, "Were going to FUCKING die in this place!"
"No, no we aren't, we're gonna make it out, but we can't go this way, I think I see more people coming from where we heard Eric" Alex said, "but the lock is broken, so we have to go through the other door over there."
"How? That door is locked too." Jake said. Alex walked over and backed up a couple of feet, the rushed forward and kicked the door, the door swung open flooding artificial light into the room. The three went into the room and shut the door, it stayed closed, but they knew it wouldn't take anything to open it.
They were in a narrow hallway, there were no windows, and no doors that they could see, the hallway turned at the end.
About halfway down the hallway, they heard a baby crying. "What's that?" Sally asked, scared.
"It's a... baby, I think." Jake said.
"A baby?" Alex said. They turned the corner, and saw a woman beside the only door out of the hallway. She was wearing a patient's uniform, and also had a scar on her
forehead. She was sitting in the corner, with her feet apart and straight forward, and there was a newborn baby laying in front of her, umbilical cord still attached. The woman's eyes were rolled back into her head, and her mouth was open. She didn't move as the three got closer, the baby just
laid there, crying. Jake approached the woman, she didn't move, he guessed that she was dead.
Suddenly, the door in front of them burst open, and a man came through, he got a look of anger when he saw Alex, Jake, and Sally. Then he looked down at the baby. he made glances to the baby and the three people. He bent down and picked up the baby, and looked at the group with a look of awe on his face.
Then, the look went away, and he bit the umbilical cord, the baby cried. He gripped one of the baby's hands, then they heard a few small pops, as the man popped the baby's fingers out of their sockets, then he stuck the fingers in his mouth and bit them. Hard. The baby was screaming, blood was flowing from the baby's hand, and some was on the outside of the man's mouth.
Sally screamed, the man looked up, and he got a look of utter terror on his face, he bolted through the door and ran down the adjacent hallway, almost tripping over another inmate laying on the ground. He ducked into a door, and shut it.
Sally was still screaming, and Jake was trying to calm her down a little, Alex just looked forward toward where the man had just run. Jake was hugging Sally, and she calmed down a little bit, or at least stopped screaming, and stood up. They walked through the door.
As Jake passed the body that the inmate had jumped over, he noticed that it was chewed on, just like the hunters that they found. Pieces of flesh were torn from it's throat, and stomach, and other places were bruised and broken. Jake guessed that the body was male, but couldn't tell for sure because of the damage and blood-soaked inmate attire.
As they passed the door that the man ran into, they noticed that it was a cell, and had a large steel door, the lock was off, and the door could open easily. Alex approached the door, and heard something inside crunching, he guessed that it was the man chewing on the baby's finger bones. He felt sick at the thought.
He slid the lock into place and heard the man on the inside yelling and moaning, and there was a large thud at the door, as the man threw his weight into it. Alex jumped back, and Sally screamed again, tears starting to flow again, as she just realized what the crunching was...
The three moved toward the door at the end of that hall, and when they reached it, they noticed it was locked. "Damn!" Alex said, "Jake, help me bust this one open."
Jake nodded, he glanced out the window to his side, and saw that the moon was out of the
clouds, and the moonlight was again streaming down into the courtyard. They got on the sides of the door, Alex counted to three, and they backed up and rammed their shoulders into the large door. It make a loud thump as the two bodies forced into it, but didn't budge.
They backed up for a second, Jake was rubbing his shoulder, they were right about to try again, but they heard a click from the other end, and a large man barreled through the door, he was about 6 and a half feet tall, Alex estimated, and had to be more than 300 pounds, and he had a large pipe in his hand. He swung it in a backhand type swing, Alex ducked just in time, but the pipe hit Jake right in the side, and he was thrown through the window beside him.
Alex jumped backwards, he had taken quite a few self defense classes, which were required by the news agency. And was now glad about that. He had managed to jump back a couple of steps, but the ogre of a man dashed forward, bringing the pipe down on his neck/collarbone area. As he dropped to the ground, all he heard were Sally's screams of terror...
Jake's head was pounding, along with the pains in his rib area, he was sure he had a couple broken. He could tell that he was outside, it was very cold, and he could tell that he had been laying there for awhile. He opened his eyes, they focused and he saw that it was snowing very lightly, the flakes were landing on his face and he felt them melting and leaving little drops of water on his nose and eyes. He
laid there, making sure that there was nobody around that knew he was still alive, although he knew that it didn't matter, these THINGS would eat anything. He wondered how this could happen, and realized that this place was so secluded that nobody would ever come up to check on it. So if something happened, nobody would even know, let alone come up to do anything about it. And by seeing the baby, he realized that the people would mate, and they also killed each other for food. Kind of like a natural food chain.
Jake sat up, and felt the blood rush from his head, only making it hurt worse. He suddenly got dizzy and had to put his hand on the ground to keep from laying back down. He hoped that he didn't have a concussion...
Jake waited a few minutes, sitting there, wondering if Alex and Sally were ok, he figured that they weren't. That was a very big man, and he had a very big pipe. He thought that he was "lucky" that the guy simply knocked him out the window. He could only imagine how he would feel now if that guy had hit him in the head with that pipe. He shuddered to think about it.
He stood up, still dizzy, but able to stay up. He looked up and saw the window that he crashed out of, it was up a little bit, but not on the second story, otherwise he figured, he would be dead.
Jake looked around him, there were no people, except a dead hunter, he was chewed on, like the others that he saw,
pieces of flesh torn from his arms and abdominal area. Jake almost puked when he saw the pieces of intestine crudely ripped out. He turned away for a moment, but realized what the hunter was holding, he turned, and realized it was a rifle, "YES!" he couldn't help saying aloud, Jake didn't know much about hunting and what kinds of rifles were out there, but he recognized this as a regular .22, he searched around the hunter's body (much to his own dismay) and found a box of ten more bullets. He wasn't sure how many bullets were in the gun, but he knew he had at least ten.
He thought of going back into the place to help Alex, if he was still there, but he figured that he was the only lucky one, but the only problem was, how to get over the wall. There was barbed wire all over the wall, and it was facing in, to keep in the "residents" of the place. The wall was about 20 feet tall. But the hunters were dragged here from the place where they died...
He walked into the shadow that was cast by the wall, and walked around, looking for where they could get over the wall or under or something. He walked around the total length of the wall, not finding anything... The
weird part was that there were no people at all inside the wall, and he could hear people on the outside of the wall, maybe there was a part that connected to the outside from the inside of the place?
He went to the back of the house, and there was a small porch area where there was a back door. He entered the door, and it looked halfway decent. This must not be a very frequented place, he thought. It almost looked like a hospital area, and there were quite a few hospital type rooms. The place hadn't been cleaned in a long time, but still wasn't as bloody and messed up as the other places he had been. He walked past all of the rooms, down the hall toward the main room at the end of the hall. He noticed that there were some halogen lights that were on inside the room, and he heard some shuffling, like someone moving around inside.
He went to the edge of the wall, so he wasn't completely obvious, and looked inside. The short stocky doctor guy from before was moving around a woman that was laying on a table. He had a scalpel in his hand, and was examining her. She was strapped to the bed, and had a gag over her mouth, and she was trying to scream. The doctor let out a giggle, as he started cutting random slices on her face. He cut across one of her eyes, and blood started pouring from her face. He pointed the scalpel at the eye that he had just cut open, grabbed under her head, and rammed her face into the scalpel. About three fourths of the scalpel was inside of the woman's eye, and she had stopped struggling and was just laying there. The doctor started laughing hysterically, and walked over to the counter, which Jake noticed was covered in blood from the used instruments sitting there. He grabbed a large suction tube to drain out people's blood before embalming them, and stuck it into the hole he made !
from the scalpel, and pulled down the gag. He walked over and flipped the switch to start draining her, and she let out a
bloodcurdling scream. The doctor, startled for a second, simply hit her in the head, knocking her out. The blood was still pouring from her face, and the suction was pulling air out as well as blood.
The doctor had his back to Jake, when he ran out at him. Right as the doctor was turning around, Jake hit him in the
forehead with the rifle. The doctor was laying on the ground, a large cut in his balding
forehead, and Jake was holding the rifle barrel right on his nose. The doctor was
dazed and Jake started yelling, "What the FUCK were you doing to her!?"
"She- she was dead! I have to embalm her! It's my JOB!" he answered.
"No! You killed her, you fucking killed her, THEN you were going to embalm her!" Jake yelled.
"Stop yelling! The others usually stay out of here because there is nobody here but me!"
"Why do they stay away from you?" Jake asked.
"Probably because I have neat tools." The doctor looked over at the counter where the bloody instruments were.
"Tools??" Jake yelled, amazed that he could say those killing objects were tools.
"Let me up please..." the doctor said, totally calm. Jake picked the doctor up and brought him to a table, strapping his wrist to it. "Hey, what are you doing, boy?" he asked
"Well, I want you to answer me some questions, since it seems that you are the only one here who knows what's going on." Jake said.
"Well, um, actually I don't." the doctor said. "I don't have any idea how this all started..." Jake didn't
believe him. He hit him again with the butt of the rifle, reopening the cut on his
forehead and making it bigger. Blood was streaming down the doctor's face and lab coat.
"Th-the whole thing was my fault, it was... Ok, I'm lying it wasn't my fault, but I didn't do anything to try and stop it. One day the door locks were opened, and I don't know how, but they were opened. All of the staff went to try and keep the inmates under control, but I went and hid in the sewer tunnel, nobody ever goes there. And when I came back out, all of my friends were dead, and the people were out wreaking havoc. So I came over here and have managed to stay alive from the frozen food storage."
"W-well, how long has this place been like this?" Jake asked.
"Uh, when it started, I was around 17 years old..."
"17!?" Jake was startled, this guy looked almost 50 years old, "so this place has been like this for like 40 years??"
"Well, the inspection people never come around, so they never see how bad this place really is."
"Actually, these places were shut down some time in the 50s or 60s..." Jake said. The doctor just sat there. Jake was right about to say how
weird the doctor was, but he figured that it was from living about 30 years in this place... Right then, he glanced at the third table in the room, which for some reason he hadn't looked at yet, and saw Sally... She was dead, obviously, because her front was ripped open in an autopsy type of way, but really
crudely, and all of her inside parts were in a small pan beside the table. There was a look of pain and torment on her face, and she was strapped to the table. He must not have used any painkillers and done it while she was alive...
"You, you sick, mother fu.... sick mother fuck..." Jake was dizzy and he fell to his knees. He looked up at the doctor, he was smiling, "Don't you like my autopsy? I found out how she died!" Jake stood up and fired the rifle into the doctor's chest, then again, then again. He fired the rifle until it ran out of bullets, which was seven or eight bullets, he didn't count. And kept clicking the rifle for about a minute.
When he came back to reality, he looked down at the "doctor", his face was covered in blood from the cut on his forehead, and his chest area was covered in blood from the multiple bullet wounds. He walked over to Sally, and closed her eyes and mouth...
Alex heard the voices, they weren't going away, just pressing into his brain, not letting him think, incoherent, loud, and he couldn't understand... Where was Jake? Where was Sally? Where was Eric? Has this whole thing even happened? He couldn't remember all of what happened. He didn't know where he was or how to get out, there was only blackness... Only the aching sound of the voices, and the memories of the moans and screams he had heard. He didn't even feel any pain, just emptiness. Plain. Simple. Emptiness.
Was he alive? Was he ok? Was he dead? So many questions, no answers...
His eyes opened, he was in a small room, suddenly the pain returned, aching in his head, and his shoulder was broken, he couldn't move his left arm, and there was blood caked all over his left side. He was stiff and couldn't move very well. How long was he unconscious? How did he get to this room?
He struggled to sit up in the small cot he was in, he checked his watch...
4:42 am, October 2nd...
He turned and looked around the small room, it looked like a hospital... For a split second, he thought he had been saved and he was in a hospital, but that realization was quickly
disintegrated when he heard the familiar moans and screams... They sounded very distant though, so he wondered if there were any people in this place. He got to his feet, slowly, and because of all of the pain, he realized that he was a sitting duck if there were any people around here.
He moved out of the room, and into a small, fairly clean hallway, and at the end there was a large room. He looked down the other hallway and saw a door that lead outside, and that was the last place he wanted to be right now. He shuffled into the large room at the end of the hallway, and saw the doctor. The doctor was moving around the room, looking at a body that was on a table, the body was Sally. Alex stood there, and simply watched as the doctor took a big tool that looked like a thing you would cut a lock with, and he
proceeded to cut her sternum and separate her ribs, opening her chest. Sally's mouth was opened and she was trying to scream, but all that Alex heard was the gurgling of the blood erupting from her mouth.
Alex noticed that the doctor hadn't yet seen him, so he struggled to get under the sheet and under another table that was in the middle of the room. It hurt to move... He let out his breath slowly so the doctor wouldn't hear him, and he realized that the doctor was talking. He didn't even hear him talking before.
"...and it wasn't my fault, if those guards had been able to stop me... I mean, I had a gun, and they had a gun, but they didn't shoot me, so I guess that it was ok that I opened the locks. I knew all of the inmates at that time, and none of them wanted to hurt me or anything, and I thought that was great, but there are all of the new ones now, and-and they want to hurt me and eat me or whatever. So if I was going to get hurt, I would go to the sewage pipes. And for awhile that worked, until these new inmates found out they could get outside from there. I guess we're lucky that they come back. But I wish they didn't, because then I could be alone, and not worry..." the doctor was talking to someone, himself maybe?
Then he heard the door to the outside shut, and he heard the all to familiar moan of one of the inmates, a female one, Alex thought. But it didn't matter.
"Gertrude, what are you doing? This is my area, remember?" Alex looked out from under the sheet, and watched as the doctor walked over and hit the woman with a large wrench. She collapsed and he
proceeded to strap her onto the table that Alex was under.
The woman was unconscious or dead, and the doctor walked back over to Sally, and
proceeded to talk. "So, you see, my dear, it wasn't completely my fault! The guards let me walk right by, if they had stopped me, then I wouldn't have opened the locks!"
Alex looked out the other side of the table, and saw another door out of the room. He hoped that he could get out before the doctor turned around, he rolled out, and got up and bolted to the door, throwing it open and shutting it. He looked down and realized that the door locked from the other side, and he felt like he was going to pass out from the pain in his shoulder and head. He was looking in tunnel vision, and small spots of color were appearing all around him. He also realized that he was in a pretty small room, and a ladder lead down. There was also a door at the other end of the little room he was in. He started down the ladder, and his arm just gave and he fell the rest of the way.
He laid there for quite a while, letting the pain pulse through his body, he looked around, and saw that it was the broiler, it wasn't being taken care of, but must not need it, since it had been turned off. He picked himself up, and shuffled to the broiler. It had been turned off for many years now, and he couldn't get it back on... "Well, there goes that idea." he wanted to turn the broiler up too high, and hopefully blow the place up. He went over and sat down, resting his back against the ladder. He realized that it wasn't silent in the room like he expected, he heard raspy breathing, and since the only light down there was from the room above shining down the ladder hole, he couldn't see very well. He looked around and saw a small pair of eyes looking straight at him. He panicked and turned to climb up the ladder, but felt something like a small child grab onto his back. He fell backwards and felt the child jump onto his chest, the child grabbed his left arm, and bit rig!
ht into his shoulder.
He felt the pain, it was unbearable, the thing biting him didn't even feel as bad as it holding his arm with the broken shoulder. He reached up with his other arm and grabbed it's hair and ripped it off of him. Alex jumped up with the last of his
adrenaline and was shooting up the ladder, but the thing grabbed onto him and went up the ladder with him. Alex was halfway out of the hole when the child bit the back of his neck, and Alex felt the bones in the spinal cord of his neck breaking under the pressure. Then the only pain Alex felt was his head hitting the cement floor at the bottom of the ladder, he didn't even feel the child as it dropped on him from above...
Jake had been sitting in the corner, a blank expression on his face, he felt like HE was going insane... None of it felt real, it all felt like a bad dream, and he couldn't even
believe it. But he knew that it was real, and most, if not all of his friends were dead, he hadn't found Alex, but he was betting that he was dead... He didn't even want to move, he was tired, and he hurt. His pain was just returning, the pain that was in his ribs firing back up.
Jake forced himself to stand up, and he picked up his rifle, just as he did that, he heard someone that sounded like Alex call out, and a loud thump, as if he had fallen. "Alex?? Alex, was that you??" He ran to the door in the corner of the room, leaving into a small hallway. There was a hole with a ladder leading down, and he heard something like crunching coming from the hole. He didn't even want to look down the hole, but something pushed him to look down, and he saw a small kid, sitting on his haunches, and taking bites out of Alex's stomach area. Jake
immediately pulled up the rifle, and fired a couple of rounds, and the child dropped to the ground, after taking the shots into it's head. Jake slid down the ladder, and checked Alex. Alex was moving his eyes, showing Jake that he was still alive. Blood was pouring from his mouth, and the rest of his body was twitching, "Alex, Alex..." he said, simply.
Alex looked at him, and gurgled something, as more blood erupted from his mouth. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he stopped moving...
Jake closed his eyes, and his head dropped, with the knowledge that all of his friends were dead. He didn't even want to get back up to leave, he didn't even know how he could leave. He got up, and climbed back up the ladder, and sat at the top.
The sewer... He remembered, the doctor had talked about he would hide in the sewer tunnel, and how he said that the inmates could get out to the forest from there. But where was the sewer tunnel? He hadn't asked... Jake cursed himself, and decided that it had to be somewhat close, and he left through the door at the end of the small hallway. He unlocked
it, and opened it up, and found himself in what looked like a cafeteria, but the tables were turned over, and there was blood all over the place. But there were no bodies, just blood, streaked and pooled everywhere. Dried in most places, but fairly fresh in others. He looked into the kitchen area, and found more blood, but also, he smelled something, like rotting food, not meat, but
vegetables of some sort. He couldn't tell what, but it smelled awful. He heard running water as he got closer, why would he hear running water? He found the spot, it was a little opening, where he could see the water running down a large pipe
underground. He wondered if this was the sewage pipe? Did the doctor mention anything about it being here? He didn't think so, but he wondered if this was the entrance that the doctor used. He didn't know if he could fit in there, but realized that the doctor did say he had used it when he was young, maybe he was slimmer then?
Well, he decided, might as well, he was beyond keeping himself alive now, and he didn't even care about it... He climbed up on the counter, and got in the position to jump down, just then he realized that they probably used the thing to drop down the garbage scraps and things, he kind of wondered what he would find down there...
He slipped through the hole, and dropped about ten feet to the metal bottom of the pipe, into about three feet of sewage. He almost fell over, and he figured that if he did that, he would have died by the smell alone. But it wasn't as bad as it could have been, it hadn't been cleaned in years, but probably hadn't been used in the same amount of time. He looked behind him, it was dark, and turned the other way. Did he see flashing lights? It was about a hundred feet to what looked like the end of the pipe. He was almost there, he could feel it. He moved down the pipe, and reached the end, realizing that the flashing lights were from a police car, how did a police car get there? It didn't matter, he thought, he dropped out of the pipe, falling into a large pond, and with the last of his strength, he swam to the shore. An officer was walking around, and shined a flashlight toward him. Jake heard him yell something at another officer, and he ran down to help him up, and led him to!
the car, where another officer was waiting. They took his gun, and opened up the back door of the car and sat him down on the seat. The two officers walked a little ways away, and were talking, when they came back, one asked, "Are you the only person here?"
Jake looked up, a look of despair, "Uh, yeah, yeah I'm the only one." One of the officers looked at the other, with a sceptical look, "Sir, will you stand up?"
Jake sat, confused. The officer repeated the request, "Will you stand up, please?" The officer walked over to him, and turned him around, placing his hands on the car, the officer proceeded to pat him down, and look through his wallet. He placed it on top of the trunk of the car, and spun Jake around, hitting him in the face with a well placed punch.
Jake dropped to the ground, unable to fight, what were they doing? Why did he punch him? The officer picked Jake up, and threw him back against the car again, and spun him around, handcuffing him, and spinning him around again, connecting with another punch to his face. Jake just layed there, and they picked him halfway up, and sat him against a tire from the car. The officer kicked him in the gut, and Jake fell on his side. The other officer pulled him back, and dropped right next to Jake, his face inches from Jake's, "We don't very well tolerate people coming up here, and fuckin' with our relatives..."
Relatives?? What? They are all crazy! Jake thought, we came up here to find some missing hunters, but, what did we find? Were these people from this place at one time? Then he realized it...
When the doctor told him about how the inmates always seemed to stay in the area, even though they would leave the asylum, they were actually leaving, starting their own lives, apart from this building...
He remembered thinking about how he had seen the baby... They must come back here to "mate" or whatever they do, he thought, but how could this place stay hidden?
A shot fired from the officer's pistol, and Jake lay there, a stream of blood running down his face from the hole in his forehead......
It didn't matter, any of it, just the emptiness, the quiet, the feeling of his own insanity taking hold....
Author: Matthew Gillespie
Posted: October 24, 1999
The Last Room On The Right
When Muffy had not returned, she began to worry. Dorothy Smith was
in her late sixties', and looked as frail as the shutters that rotted along the
windows of her house. She was a rather quiet woman who enjoyed spending
most of her time re-organizing a Butterfly collection, piled in the basement
corner. Like the basement itself, Dorothy was considered a dark, recluse by
most of her neighbors. In fact, she rarely left her front porch unless it was
garbage day. When Muffy, her black and white cat, had not returned she
suspected something was wrong. Dorothy stood at the edge of the room, and
called "Muffy? Where's my precious Muffy?" Usually, Muffy would
respond with a whimper and grunt sound. However, this time, there was no
whimper and no sound of a grunt. The room that Muffy usually enjoyed
hiding in, was located in the basement at the end of a long, dark hallway. It
was the last room on the right, and Dorothy tried to avoid it as much as
possible. There was an eerie presence to the blackness that filled the room,
one that made the frail woman often feel uneasy. The light-switch was
located at the far end of the room and there were no windows, making it
difficult for any light to exist. With one last call, "Muffy!," Dorothy retreated
to the upstairs phone, and began to dial a number.
It was not long before Billy-Bob Earl made his way through
Dorothy's front door. "I really appreciate you visiting me, at this early hour
of the morning," she said, with a hint of sympathy in her voice, "When I
called your number, I expected you to be up and about!" Billy-Bob glanced
around the room, not paying any attention to Dorothy's appreciation. He
turned to her and asked with an undertone in his voice, "What can I do for
you, ma'am?" Dorothy paused. She knew that her reason for calling and
waking him up was not of real legitimate importance. "My cat has
disappeared," she responded. A confused look crossed Billy-Bob's face and
he asked, "Where?" Dorothy's week feminine hands grabbed his strong
masculine hands and led him into the basement. Billy-Bob observed the
lime-green carpets that flooded the floors, and the bare-white walls that
surrounded them. Above of his head, bright-neon lights separated three
inches apart guided Dorothy down the dark hallway. Finally, they reached
the last room on the right. "My cat ran into this room, and never came back,"
Dorothy said in a quiet and subtle voice, pointing at the darkness. Billy-Bob
felt somewhat relieved that he was not required to climb a tree to fetch his
neighbor's cat. He turned to Dorothy and watched the expression on her
face grow more and more worried. "It's only a cat," he thought to himself
and asked, "Is there a light- switch?" With a sigh, Dorothy responded,
"Well that's just the problem! The light-switch is located at the other end of
the room. At my age, I'm afraid of falling in the darkness and being
completely helpless." Billy-Bob nodded his head, for he understood the
purpose of his presence. "Not to worry ma'am," he assured her and made his
way into the room.
Five-minutes had passed, and still no sign of Billy-Bob or Muffy.
Dorothy became even more frightened, and called out again and again,
"Billy-Bob? Muffy?" However, only dead silence filled the air. Due to
nervousness, she began to feel dizzy and needed a rest. After ten minutes
had passed, Dorothy made her way up the stairs to the telephone. She called
the police, and explained to them the strange occurrence. They advised her
to remain upstairs, until an officer arrived at the house. Fifteen minutes later,
Dorothy began to here a crying sound coming from the basement. She
remembered what the police officer had advised her, and remained on the
upstairs-floor. The crying sound soon became increasingly louder, and
Dorothy was becoming impatient. The sound grew so loud, that she decided
to follow it. It led back into the basement, and down the dark hallways, until
it ended at the last room on the right. Dorothy had never been more scared in
her life, but she continued walking towards the room and into the blackness.
It was, finally time to face her fears. Her hand glided along the edge of the
wall as it felt for the light-switch. Finally, her hand hit a bump. Dorothy
paused, and listened to the sound of breathing echoing throughout the
darkness. As she listened, the sound became distant until it was no longer
heard. She knew that there had been someone else in the room with her. The
rapid beating of her heart had become unbearable, and she quickly flicked
the object that her hand had hit. The lights filled the room, and dust slowly
began to clear. Dorothy glanced around the room, and noticed trails of blood
along the white walls. In the corner, something had caught her eye. She
stood frozen, for what she had seen was more horrifying than anything
created by the boundaries of her imagination...
Author: Matthew Gillespie
Posted: October 24, 1999
Jimmy screamed as the calculator crawled into the port, at the side of
his neck. It never usually hurt, but this time it did. He could feel the six, tiny
legs moving along at a coordinated pace. It was always a moment of relief,
when it finally planted itself. "One would never think technology hurt so
much," he thought, and went back to brushing his hair. The alarm clock next
to the window flashed: 8:05. Jimmy always had to remind himself that the
clock was five minutes slow. Today, he would not be late, especially for
Math class. He reached for the case that protected his calculator. "Just to be
sure," he thought, even though there was never any need for him to bring it.
Jimmy always liked to be prepared though, and if anything ever happened to
the calculator, he knew his parents would punish him for a month. With one
last glance in the mirror, Jimmy left his home and ran for the bus.
Once he arrived at school, Jimmy ran to Math class until he barely
collapsed from exhaustion. Mrs. Henderson was busy writing the lesson
along the chalkboard, while students began entering the room. "Hurry along,
everyone", she said in a loud, raspy voice. Everyone, including Jimmy, was
comfortably seated and prepared to take notes. As suspected by many
students, Mrs. Henderson turned around and began lecturing the class. "The
new calculators are going to take time, before we are all familiar with them.
Please try not to ask too many questions, they're new to me too," she said.
After a long pause, she continued, "…and try not to scratch at your port. I
know it's very itchy, but don't let it distract you. It will heal in three days."
Mrs. Henderson, then, began writing the lesson on the board.
Jimmy hated math with a passion, because he had many problems
comprehending and organizing numbers in his brain. It was a problem that
many other students had, but had taken math in threat of loosing their future
The concept of the new calculator provided students with more
options and capabilities, when learning with numbers. The calculator itself
took five years to develop, but the result was incredible- expensive, but well
worth the wait. Jimmy never liked bugs or anything that crawled, for that
matter, and didn't favor the idea of letting a tiny creature crawl into his neck.
He remembered the first time his calculator was put to use, which was like
nothing he had ever experience before. The calculator was just released for
sale, and Jimmy had begged his mother to buy him one- it was something
that guaranteed a passing mark.
The calculator was not like any other new object. It was different,
almost repulsive in a way. "Who thinks of these things," Jimmy had asked
himself many times. The bug itself was half-spider, half-centipede. The
long, thin legs allowed it to crawl through small spaces, and its narrow body
was perfect for planting itself on the left hemisphere of the brain. The micro-
chip was made-up of human bone cartilage, and later inserted into the bug's
spine. Scientists had spent five years of their precious lives studying, altering
genetic codes, and breeding the calculators until a successful product was
produced. The bugs were not what bothered Jimmy it was the port that
grossed him out. He already had three tattoos, and an ear piercing, but
having a rectangular hole inserted into his neck was unappealing to him.
Mrs. Henderson had finished writing the entire lesson on the board, and sat
down at a desk, to catch her breath. It was obvious that she was not an active
person, due to her weak physical appearance. Jimmy noticed that John
Briggs, a student who was usually very chatty, remained silent during the
lesson. "Are you alright?" Jimmy asked, in a concerned voice. "I just have a
slight headache. That's all. Just a headache," John responded without
glancing at Jimmy once. No more than five minutes had passed, and John's
face had turned a pinkish-blue color. "Are you sure everything is alright?"
Jimmy asked again, but received no answer. Suddenly, John fell to floor and
his leg began twitching nervously. Not one student moved from their seat.
They remained perfectly still, not to interfere themselves with an emergency.
Jimmy ran to John, and called to the teacher, "Mrs. Henderson, there's
something wrong with him!" The teacher leaned over her desk and starred at
John trembling violently on the floor. "Leave him Jimmy!" She cried,
"Leave him. He might have a virus!" Jimmy could not believe what he had
heard, and said again, "He needs help!" Not one student had moved an inch,
not even the teacher who grabbed a pile of papers from her desk and began
Moments later, blood began to drip from John's port. Jimmy held his
head in an upright position, and tried to calm him. "It's going to be alright!
Everything's going to be fine!" Jimmy reassured John, completely unaware
of what was happening. It was not long after that the bug had finally made
it's way to the end of the port. Jimmy starred in horror and watched as it
pushed through the healing skin, and landed in the pool of blood. It looked
even smaller than Jimmy had remembered it.
John had died on the tile floor, and Jimmy wiped the blood off of his
right hand. "He's dead," Jimmy shouted to the class. "Well…" Mrs.
Henderson replied, in a quiet voice, "Without his calculator, he's better off
Posted: October 23, 1999
“Mom, Why is my window open?” I yelled. “I don’t know, dear, I didn’t
open it”, she replied. “Oh”, I said. For the last couple days it had just
opened up. No apparent reason. I guess it was the wind or something.
My name is Ashley. I am 11 years old. I live with my mother, sister,
and older brother. My brother is 14 and my sister is 3 years old. My father
pasted away a year ago. That is when we had to move from our nice
modern house to where we lived now. It is a three story, old, white house.
The paint was chipped really bad but we didn’t have enough money to
fix it. I hated our house. It gave me the creeps. Why couldn’t we have a
new nice house like everyone else? Like we used to when my father was
No one knew what happened to my father. Of course we knew he
died, but we didn’t know how. They found his body, but still weren’t sure
what had got it. It looked like a shark had bit him badly, but he was no
where near any type of water. I always tried to investigate, but I got too
sad. I always ended up quitting.
Today was Monday morning. I just got over a weekend doing
nothing. I dressed for school, grabbed my books, went down the stairs,
and headed to my bus stop. My bus stop wasn’t far away. It was almost
right in front of my house. There weren’t many houses around were I
My day at school went by fast. Not because I was having fun
though. We had two tests that day. I was sure I failed one of them. They
were pretty hard. I got home about 4 PM and started my homework. I
was done about 4:30. We didn’t have a lot.
I watched TV for about and hour then it was time for dinner. For
dinner we ate roast beef and rice. It was pretty good. My brother and
myself had to wash the dishes. I would of rather washed them alone. He
is a pain and teases me too much (like every time he gets a chance).
After dinner I took a bath. Then I got my pj's on and hopped in bed.
I started reading my favorite book “To Kill a Mocking Bird” and soon fell
That night I woke up because I felt a cool breeze. I looked up and
my window was open. I was freezing. Then I wrapped my blanket
around me and went to close it. When I tried to close it I couldn’t. There
was a force against and it was too strong. I couldn’t shut it. Scared to
death, I tried to run out of my bedroom. The same force was against the
door. I started to see a glow threw the cracks. I started yelling. “Help,
Help.” I yelled with all my might. No one could heard me. I saw an
object. It looked like a person mixed with a witch. As it went toward me
I grabbed things and started throwing them at “it”. Things like
books and coins. They didn’t even hurt it. As it walked closer to me I still
couldn’t see what it was. It smelled awful. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t
bare to look. It grabbed me. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. I didn’t
think I was dead but knew I wasn’t alive. That is when I saw my dad
Posted: October 20, 1999
It was a dark night in the caves above to ocean Rick was busy making a fire to warm his body. The chilly ocean air kept him alert for any trouble that might come his way. Ever since be broke of jail a year ago he’d been busy looking over his shoulder hoping not to get caught. Rick is a 23 year old male with brown hair and hazel eyes. He went to jail cause he had robbed a bank. He had been stupid enough to spend all of the money in one lump some, which led to his arrest.
Three hours went by and Rick started to feel tired despite the cold air. He fell into a deep yet restless sleep. Some thing during the night Rick got up and walked to the road and got into his car and drove to an all night diner where he found a young girl about the age of 19 sitting at on of the many booths. He walked up to her and asked if he could sit and talk. She said sure. They talked for awhile soon the girl had to leave. Rick offered her a ride home she agreed. So the girl and Rick went to his car and drove out of the parking lot of the diner. The girl’s name was Kara. They drove toward the beach the girl asked why they were heading to the beach. Rick just said he needed some fresh air. “Oh,” said Kara, they continued to the beach. At the beach Rick got out and walked to the water line. Kara soon followed after him. He sat down on the sand and stared out into the star lit night. Kara sat down beside him and asked him if there was some thing wrong. He said no. Kara la!
id back and looked up toward the stars. Rick got on top of her and started to kiss her. At first she resisted but as the ocean waves soothed her she let him go.
An hour later she was dead. Rick got up and walked back to his car and drove to the cave on the other side of the bay.
The next morning a family was taking a walk along the beach when the saw Kara’s nude body. The mother place her hand over their child's face while the father went to see if the Kara was alive. She wasn’t there was a large hold in her head which looked like a .45
caliber bullet. The father ran to a pay phone and called 911.
The police and the coroner came and took the body away.
Rick woke to find he had blood all over his body. He panicked and looked to see if something had bitten him, he then noticed that the blood wasn’t his. He got up and ran to his car and drove straight for the police station. There he ran inside and collapsed onto the floor. An officer came and helped him up but then saw the blood drying on Rick’s clothes. He called for a doctor and placed Rick on a bench. Then Rick blurted “It’s not my blood, I already checked Help me!"
As it turned out Rick had a sleeping disorder, whenever he had a bad day he would get up and either beat some up of kill them. Rick is now in a mental hospital with around the clock supervision.
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