Sharp pain between my ribs above my belly
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2024.06.07 17:48 ewan_m DAE sharp pain in my lower belly left of the belly button( 3-4 inch below of belly button).
Every once in a great while, I'll get a sharp, stabbing pain in my lower belly left of the belly button( 3-4 inch below of belly button). Always in the same spot, and its been happening for years. But, it can be months between occurrences. Any idea what this could be?
submitted by ewan_m to DoesAnybodyElse [link] [comments]
2024.06.07 15:33 BeccaMirez 17 hours after surgery
Yesterday at 7am I checked into the day surgery center at my hospital my surgery was scheduled at 9am. My surgeon had another patient before me and may god bless this patient, his surgery had complications and it scared me when I saw an empty bed come back to where we were discharged from. I heard the nurses talking there was complications and my surgeon was still in surgery. By 12pm I was finally going into the OR for my surgery. I mentally prepared myself for it. I was freaking out before and soo scared to do the surgery but I watched the procedure done on YouTube and that helped me because I knew what was going to happen. By like 10am I asked my nurse if I could have something for anxiety and she said no we need you coherent and not loopy. So I didn't get anything. My husband stayed with me waiting the whole time and that helped alot. We did start to worry watching the time and that empty bed come back. The patient wasn't coming back. That patient was in surgery for 4 hours. That patient was staying for a while.
I am allergic to alot of Antibiotics so my anesthesiologist couldn't figure out what to give me through IV. She said if you have a reaction you're in the best place possible. She gave me pepcid because I have severe reflux, she gave me benadryl before everything else. They took me to OR, I was still calm and when I got to OR I started to get nervous and anxious then she put the oxygen mask on me and I guess the benadryl knocked me out because I don't remember anything after that.
The next thing I know is I'm waking up in recovery, the nurse was saying you should get some rest I said ok but every 10 minutes I was waking up with every little sound. I told her I am a very light sleeper. She said in 20 minutes we will take you to recovery where your husband can pick you up. I said ok. My surgeon called my husband and told him how the surgery went and told him I had two big stones. But that's all he said to him. Then as soon as I got to recovery (original place i was) my husband showed up. Then they let me go 5 minutes later . They said my surgery was an hour. I don't know how long I was in recovery sleeping from the medication they gave me. I moved my own self onto the OR table. I have no idea how I got back on the hospital bed!
I remember asking the recovery nurse alot of questions but I don't remember what they were. I asked if it was complicated she said no, I asked if there were stones she said you have to talk to your surgeon, I don't remember what other questions I asked. Benadryl makes me sooo tired!
So I went to OR at 12:12pm, and went home a 2:30pm. I had 2 large stones and that's all my surgery told my husband. I never saw my surgeon again after that.
I was very tired and loopy coming home. I have pain, i am a light sleeper so I was waking up every hour and just going to sleep waking up. My surgeon sent me home with Norco pain med. I had pain when I was in the recovery area waking up my ribs hurt! I asked the nurse if I could have pain meds she said no because you have allergies and I said only to antibiotics. She wasn't going to give me anything. She finally did. I don't remewhat. Then my discharge nurse I think gave me more before I left.
The most pain I feel is in my right shoulder and in my right ribs and no one said it would be hard for you to breath after because when you breath in you get a very sharp pain in your right ribs BUT you have to take deep breaths to prevent lung collapse and pneumonia. That's been very challenging. When I sit up or get up it feels like my stomach is not there anymore. It's so sore. The worst pain is breathing in and the shoulder pain. Just lay in bed the first day and rest. Day 2 walking. Nurse did say liquid diet 1st day little food the next and low fat for a while until the body can get use to digesting without a gallbladder.
Cheers to a long journey without the gallbladder. I hope it's easy.
Heating pad a must. A thick pillow over the belly a must. Pain meds too. That's all I've been doing.
submitted by BeccaMirez to gallbladders [link] [comments]
I am allergic to alot of Antibiotics so my anesthesiologist couldn't figure out what to give me through IV. She said if you have a reaction you're in the best place possible. She gave me pepcid because I have severe reflux, she gave me benadryl before everything else. They took me to OR, I was still calm and when I got to OR I started to get nervous and anxious then she put the oxygen mask on me and I guess the benadryl knocked me out because I don't remember anything after that.
The next thing I know is I'm waking up in recovery, the nurse was saying you should get some rest I said ok but every 10 minutes I was waking up with every little sound. I told her I am a very light sleeper. She said in 20 minutes we will take you to recovery where your husband can pick you up. I said ok. My surgeon called my husband and told him how the surgery went and told him I had two big stones. But that's all he said to him. Then as soon as I got to recovery (original place i was) my husband showed up. Then they let me go 5 minutes later . They said my surgery was an hour. I don't know how long I was in recovery sleeping from the medication they gave me. I moved my own self onto the OR table. I have no idea how I got back on the hospital bed!
I remember asking the recovery nurse alot of questions but I don't remember what they were. I asked if it was complicated she said no, I asked if there were stones she said you have to talk to your surgeon, I don't remember what other questions I asked. Benadryl makes me sooo tired!
So I went to OR at 12:12pm, and went home a 2:30pm. I had 2 large stones and that's all my surgery told my husband. I never saw my surgeon again after that.
I was very tired and loopy coming home. I have pain, i am a light sleeper so I was waking up every hour and just going to sleep waking up. My surgeon sent me home with Norco pain med. I had pain when I was in the recovery area waking up my ribs hurt! I asked the nurse if I could have pain meds she said no because you have allergies and I said only to antibiotics. She wasn't going to give me anything. She finally did. I don't remewhat. Then my discharge nurse I think gave me more before I left.
The most pain I feel is in my right shoulder and in my right ribs and no one said it would be hard for you to breath after because when you breath in you get a very sharp pain in your right ribs BUT you have to take deep breaths to prevent lung collapse and pneumonia. That's been very challenging. When I sit up or get up it feels like my stomach is not there anymore. It's so sore. The worst pain is breathing in and the shoulder pain. Just lay in bed the first day and rest. Day 2 walking. Nurse did say liquid diet 1st day little food the next and low fat for a while until the body can get use to digesting without a gallbladder.
Cheers to a long journey without the gallbladder. I hope it's easy.
Heating pad a must. A thick pillow over the belly a must. Pain meds too. That's all I've been doing.
2024.06.07 13:39 Liberty-Prime76 Letter of Marque 85 - A NoP Fanfic
As always, thank you to for the wonderful universe that is NoP! Thank you to for proof reading and helping me make this chapter as good as it can be, you're the man! Honestly LoM wouldn't have gone very far without him! If you haven't you should absolutely go read Foundations of Humanity! It's very good! :D
A big thanks to for helping with proofreading! He writes Out of Our Elements which is a very good one! If you like a good fic in the wilderness and a pair of cute 'friends' ;) you'll love OOE!
Also thank you to ! For this wonderful fanart of Taisa. And this one! She's so cute I'm gonna die
And thank you to ! For this adorable fanart of Chris and Renkel! Dear god help he's adorable I love him so much
Thank you , or AsciiSquid on Discord, for makin'Vengineer Taisa Gamin'. She's absolutely adorable, I love her lil' workers apron. She looks so excited to get to work!
Thank you ! For this astounding Pixel Art of Taisa after a few range day dates with Chris! Her little hat and gunbelt are absolutely astounding!
Thank you ! For this Artwork of Taisa and Chris as characters from One Piece! I've never seen or read it before but it's incredibly cute!
Thank you to for their wonderful work of several LoM fanfics!
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Memory Transcription Subject: Taikel, Venlil Farmer, Venlil-Human Exchange Host
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 20th, 2136
Stars above a paw with good news would be appreciated.
The Warren was silent but for the click-clack of Renkel’s claws on my pad as I sat at the island, staring down at my now cold bowl of crispy brown vegetables. Rensa had fallen further over the last paw, sinking well past where she had been after her accident. I think hope, fear and Renkel were the only things keeping me from stumbling into the night beside her.
My attention tracked across the living room as I swiveled the stool around to focus on the window she was sat in front of, with all I could see being the thread of a shadow slowly bringing the glass to her mouth; the only sign to tell me she was still there at all. I’d thought about replacing the gin with something gentler this waking, it had worked for a glass, keeping her marginally more lucid before she’d decided to refill it herself. Then before too long she was back to the same torpid drift she’d lost herself in these last few paws.
The clink of my skewer against the side of the bowl in front of me split the solemn, cold air of the kitchen as I let out a sigh, turning to look at the beads tic-tacing against each other in front of the open window beside the hearth. My eyes hung on the open thread waiting, almost eagerly, to be filled, for the news of our loss so that sordid black bead could find its new home.
My heart sank at the thought of receiving that message.
Of being informed that they really were gone.
Of having to confront the reality of our loss.
Having to explain to Renkel that his sister was never coming home, that Chris would never share his stories with him again.
That two of his best friends in the world had been taken from him.
Rensa falling even further, spiraling well beyond anything I could ever truly help her recover from.
The image of their stars drifting on the basin brought pooling tears to the corners of my eyes, pulling at the threads binding my heart like Night’s whipping winds.
I could feel them threatening to fall as I wrenched my eyes from Kalthet hanging in the window, squeezing them shut to push the horror away, to do anything and everything I could for my family.
For Rensa, for Renkel.
For them.
Come on, gray coat, do it for the-
The familiar chime of my pad drifted from Renkel on the couch, perking my ears to the distinct tune as he mewled curiously, locked onto the pad just as I was.
Was that Tais-
“PAPA!” My son squealed, leaping from the couch to fill the Warren with the rapid pitter-patter of his paws on hardwood followed along with a rapid beat of chime after chime from the pad he all but threw at me.
My heart swayed for a moment, a growing sprout of hope blooming as I gently plucked the pad from his paws, my tail slipping around him, pulling him close as I stared down at the noisy pad. The wheels in my mind spun on slick ground as panic, elation and worry filled my thoughts, my breath hitched, trying to push me onward to read even the first message as they came rushing in like a fresh harvest. Before long they stopped, messages about them going up to a peak to watch, the food Darlene had made, how much she hoped she’d see us again, terror at the Arxur’s arrival, jubilation that the federation had been driven away.
And then they turned to a tide of growing worry as her messages asked where we were, what was going on and how the town was holding up. Questions asking if we were getting the messages flooded in next, creeping closer and closer together before one finally broke the chain with an >Embarassed.< tail sign emote. A heavy sigh of relief tumbled from my mouth as I pulled Renkel a little closer, reading the message aloud to the pup with high ears and a blooming warmth in my chest.
“Hey Papa, looks like relays have been down for… a while. I’m ok, Chris is… mostly ok. I don’t know when you will get this, but whenever you do, I want you to know we’re coming home soon. I love you.”
My attention swung back to the window and the shadow hanging on the curtains between us as Renkel’s paws flew into the air, the pitter-patter of his feet on the hardwood racing around the living room, scooping up his book and bolting upstairs with an elated squeal. My tail fell into an excited wag before I looked back to the pad, the biting worry for Rensa gnawing a little harder at my gut dulled by the fact that they were alive! My daughter and Chris were, seemingly, safe. As worried as I was about reports of the Arxur on Earth, I couldn’t help but be elated at the news. Which certainly didn’t stay my claws from typing out a field of questions of my own as they sprouted to mind.
Taikel:
Oh thank the stars you’re ok, Oil-Spot!
What happened with the ship crash, the U.N. said it started a giant fire???
Are you two safe?
What are the Arxur doing there?
Where are the Arxur?
Where are you?
Her chat-flower bloomed after a few agonizingly long moments, setting the coiled tension in my heart loose as joyful tears slipped free into my wool. I hadn’t thought that little purple flower opening and closing could simultaneously elicit so many emotions.
Taisa:
Papa! Stars above I was worried something had happened.
Venlil ship rammed a fed light cruiser, lit the forest and mountainsides on fire real bad. We spent the last two paws doing our best to help put that out. Its contained and almost gone now so we’re getting shifted.We’re safe, mostly. We’ve got a worrying shipment with a few aid crews for the next paw or two but we’ve been approved to return to Heartwood after that is done.
They helped push the feds back and now they’re helping >Disbelief.< with the rebuilding efforts. Neither of us are particularly pleased with that.
Not sure about all of them but at least three of them are going to be on Polani. >Anger. Worry.<
We’re at Chris’ families, getting Polani ready to go get started with our ‘aid teams’.
How’re Mama and Renkel?
My heart stuck in my throat as I looked up at the window again, peering at Rensa’s shadow as the sound of Renkel excitedly foraging in his room met my ears, searching for the best words to say. I settled on the truth.
Taikel:
Renkel is currently running about the house like he’s had a cup of Chris’ ‘coffee’ again squealing happy. Your Mama is… not doing great right now but hopefully this news helps!
Any idea when you two will be home?
Taisa:
As soon as we can, not sure of exactly how many paws but I promise I’ll keep you updated.
Please let Mama know we’ll be home as soon as we can be.
Taikel:
I will, stay safe for me, Oil-Spot.
Taisa:
We’ll do our best, Papa. Love you.
Taikel:
Love you too.
I set the pad down and found myself staring at the Kalthet again, focusing on the empty space, ecstatic that another black spot wouldn’t yet truly fill our lives.
But it has filled the lives of others. Those people in the shelters… How many have lost family they know they’ll never see again?
>Enough.< A small nod bobbed my chin as I turned, padding up stairs to find Renkel. We’d been cooped up in the Warren long enough; it was harvest-time for all of us to get out and start helping. Besides, stars and I know that if that boy was good at anything other than foraging for new facts it was being a beacon of light in the world.
[Advance Transcript by Time Unit: 1.5 Hours]
Renkel let out an excited giggle, bouncing on his feet as I poured another glass for Rensa, splashing a claw of gin before diluting it with water and fire-fruit oil. Hard stopping hadn’t worked last time and it wouldn’t this time either, not without her howling in pain for paws on end… I couldn’t put her through that for another minute, let alone a few paws. But if I eased her down then it’d be better, it’d be tolerable for her and I was sure that Taisa and Chris’ return would snap her out of her stupor and break the fire just as fast as it’d started.
Or at least I hoped as hard as I could that it would.
Renkel bounds to the door, still jumping in place as his tail lashes about behind him excitedly, barely containing his squeaks as I open the door and wave him on outside. The cool twilight air flows into my wool as the beautiful golden rays dance in my eyes, casting the sky in a beautiful tapestry of colors. I’d seen it a thousand times, every waking of my life and yet, right now, it felt like the first time in forever.
Renkel doesn’t slow, bolting to the truck and calling out an upbeat whistle to Rensa as I stoop at her side, gently extracting the now-empty glass from her paws and replacing it with the new one before nuzzling her crown with an excited, hopeful mewl. “Taisa’s alright darling, they’ll be home in a few paws! Renkel and I are going to the shelter to try and help… do you want to come?”
A noncommittal, foggy grunt of acknowledgment was all I received alongside a weak return of my affections. The knot of pain in my chest tightened down again at the sight of my love, steeping in the fog hanging in her mind. It hurt to see her like this again, especially with the knowledge that the fear and anguish, the very cause of her pain, wasn’t true. Aside from patience and doing my best to gently lift her from the pit she’d dug to hide herself there was little I could do to truly help her.
So patience and a steady paw was what I would provide.
I gave her crown a small lick before I rose, gently easing her back down into her seat with the strongest purr I could manage. “We’ll be back soon, love. Get some rest, things will get better from here, I promise.”
The crunch of gravel beneath bolting paws reached my ears as I turned toward the truck, the excited squeaks, chirps and whistles erupting from Renkel faltered as he slowed to a stop at my side. His voice was a whisper as I turned him to pad to the truck, concern in his voice mirrored in how tight he clutched his book to his chest. “I-Is Mama coming with us?”
“No, Rekan, Mama’s still tired so she’s gonna stay home this time.” I whispered back, my paw squeezing his shoulder as my tail wrapped around his wrist. “But she wants us to go have all the fun we can at the shelter!
“Ok!” The pup’s ears perk, his tail wagging enthusiastically with the answer, tiny claws prodding me onward to the truck before tossing his head over his shoulder to shout to Rensa. “Lets go! Love you Mama! I’ll tell you all about it when we get home!”
A placid >You too.< was all he received.
That didn’t steal the shine from his field though, the joyful sound of his whistling accompanying the rapid prodding of his claws as he pushed me onward to the truck. The passenger door gives its usual whining squeal as it swings open, reminding me once again to call Parnel…
Later. Right now we help.
Renkel’s voice danced with enthusiasm as I hefted him up off his feet and into the seat beside mine, strapping him in as he sang and whistled Taisa’s chime. Before long I found myself joining him as I stepped back, gently swinging the door shut before padding to the drivers side, the hopeful tune dancing in the air around me as I climbed in alongside my son, gently pulling him close for a moment and earning a surprised mewl in return.
“You all ready, Rekan?”
>Yes!<
The truck’s engine shudders to life as Renkel props his book up on his lap, happily reading aloud to me about a new ‘fishy’ the ‘Blue Whale’. The rumble thrums through the truck as I slip it into gear, the familiar sound accompanied by the crunch of gravel under tread before it fades into the whispering hum of slow tires on asphalt. I turned my eyes for a moment, harvesting another look at Rensa lounging beside the Warren’s door.
And that little bloom of hope grew just a bit larger at the thought of them home, of her whole again. Of us whole again. I could handle this, in a paw or two she’d be lucid enough again. Then she’d be happy again.
And stars above that’s all I ever wanted.
Memory Transcription Subject: Christopher A. Dewey, Human Merchant Ship Captain, Crystal Star Shipping Co-Owner
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 20th, 2136
They’re late.
The heft of my loading suit felt like little more than a heavy coat as I stood at the top of Polani’s ramp, alone. Taisa was still up in the helm, likewise suited and strapped as we waited for the grays to arrive, along with their U.N. Handlers. Neither of us was particularly excited about any of this but we still had to do it. Still had to bend the knee every time the U.N. called us up.
We’d done everything they’d wanted us to do, hauled a few thousand souls off the Cradle, more’n that off Earth in the last few days, a quarter of which from places that just weren’t anymore…
And I still didn’t know if Anna was alright. They couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell me a definitive answer about what happened to her or the museum’s bunker, and it was eating me. Ma’n Pa’d told me I should wait, do my best to keep a level head, keep myself on track and I’d tried. Tried to keep everything straight in my head, to focus on helping people where I could and… and I still couldn’t stop the knife in my gut twisting at losing my little sister.
Patience… Anna’s always been lucky, she’ll be alright. She will.
My eyes turned skyward, looking up at the drifting plume of smoke and ash that still hung in the northern sky. The ash, dust, debris and dreams of a few hundred million people stained the sky that awful gray-brown that stretched for hundreds of miles. Each crater that’d once been a city had looked like over-eager paint smudges from orbit. Looking down at them and biting my lip was about all I could do to keep from crying my eyes out at the idea of what was left of Anna drifting along with… everyone else.
“Still don’t see them, Love!” Taisa whistled through our suit’s comms channel, the upbeat, hopeful lilt dancing in her voice, pulling me from the darkening rapids in my mind. I could practically hear her wagging tail as I shifted to look both ways across the Tarmac, spotting a quartet of white vans and a few loaded cargo trucks.
Damn shame. Would’ve rather just gone home to help Ma an’ Pa rather’n taxi some fuckin’ ‘gators around.
“Hate to rain on our parade here, Darlin’, but I don’t think we’re gettin’ out of it that easy… Fuckin’ half hour late or not.”
Her voice deflated as I heard her sigh filter through the suit’s speakers, a note of fear replacing the hope that’d sung just a moment before. “Ah Speh… and we were so close.”
“Another half hour and I’d’ve called it.” I grumbled back, the heavy clunk of my suit’s boots against the ramp echoing through the cavernous hold as I walked down to the tarmac below. “Stay up in the helm, I’ll get the aid workers, and the fuckin’ ‘gators, settled fast as I can manage.”
“Ok, Love.” Was the only response I received, the fear in her voice building to the point that all I wanted to do was slam the hold shut and comfort her rather than play host to the U.N.’s next great idea for our lives.
Unfortunately that wasn’t an actual option.
The quartet of vans slowed to a stop a hundred yards away, followed by the cargo trucks shuddering to a stop on either side of them, sliding open to reveal the first two were entirely filled with Peacekeepers, Human and Zurulian aid workers and a handful of bags, equipment and medicine, the other pair were packed to the gills with Peacekeepers and Arxur. Suddenly everything felt awful familiar as the horde of scaled bastards slunk from their trucks, their attention bouncing all around the space-port before finally settling on Polani and me.
Some of them bickered back and forth in that grating, growling language as it gutting the air just outside my translator's range and set my nerves alight as they pointed up at the star on Polani’s flank. I could feel the tension in my shoulders growing as they approached, following a few yards behind the first Peacekeeper in the bunch and the pair of shaking Zurulians practically beneath her feet. At least they were a few familiar faces amongst the gray tide rising toward me.
“Captain Dewey! Good to see you again! Was worried about you.” Colonel Connolly called to me, Kelfen and Metek’s scared eyes snapping to me, the pair seeming to relax at least a little.
“Colonel, it's good to see you’re alright as well, I hope things have been better for you than us. Kelfen, Metek, good to see you as well.” I replied with a wary voice, my eyes not leaving the horde lingering behind them.
“That’s a word for it.” Metek grumbled, his ears darting about as he shot worried glances behind him, nervously fiddling with his backpack’s straps. “C-Can we still use the room we were using before? We need to set up which teams a-are going where.”
“Certainly, I presume you know the way?”
>Yes.<
“Hop to it then.” I stated, inviting them past me as Kelfen shouted over her shoulder, calling the other aid workers and a handful of peacekeepers to follow them before they padded upstairs, followed closely by a myriad of Humans, Zurulians, Yotul, Venlil and, surprisingly, a few annoyed looking Arxur.
“Now, onto the cargo.” Connolly stated, stepping up beside me to look out at the gathered trucks. “ORF-SP’s got a few cargo-shovers on the way over we’re good to use for the transfers today. Them and the load should be sub-size for your hold so we’ll still have space for our new friends to stay downstairs with a few of my Peacekeepers. We’ll have you loaded up and on our way in a few minutes at the most.”
“Good.” I stated, not taking my eyes off of the grays as I heard the throaty hum of cargo-shovers rolling around Polani’s bow to take up station behind the cargo trucks, slipping their loads free of the trailers with ease. “Faster this is done the faster I can get Tai somewhere that neither of us are on the edge of a breakdown.”
“Agreed.” She stated, leaning to whisper in, what she assumed, was the suit’s ear. “I’m not exactly a fan of the lizards either, Cap’ but… if they’re willing to help haul people out of the rubble, and behave, then I’m willing to take the help.”
I nodded, letting out a long sigh as I stepped aside to let the first cargo-shover crawl up the ramp with its load, cresting into the hold before settling down with a sharp hiss from its pneumatics. “Neither are we. If any of them fuck’s with me or Taisa…”
“They’ll have to go through me and my Peacekeepers, Cap’; trust me I won’t let that happen if I can help it. Besides, once you’ve dropped us off you’re off the hook for any more Arxur loads, just aid moving for a few days. Old Moose says he’s trying to limit his crews to one Arxur flight each. About how long will it take to get to NYC?”
“‘Bout an hour or so.” I replied, a small smile crossing my face at the mention of the Mercy’s giant of a Captain. It wasn’t often I met someone bigger than me but God and Stars above if that man didn’t make me feel small. “Well I’ll have to thank him for that, next I see him. Still owe him and Charlie a drink; need to sort that out.”
“I’m sure the both of them would be happy with whatever you bring along at this point. Anyhow, you’ve got a ship to fly and I’ve got a bunch of idiots and lizards to wrangle.” She replied, waving the Peacekeepers and Arxur aboard with a shout as the last of the cargo-shovers crawled to a stop and settled down to the decking. “ALRIGHT, NO ONE TOUCHES ANYTHING YOU AREN’T ASKED, OR TOLD, TO! HANSEN, AKSEL, ANTOINE, GET YOUR SECTIONS TOGETHER AND REA-”
I shook my head with a small laugh at the familiar display, turning to walk upstairs to Taisa and the Helm. The sooner this was done and all the ‘gators were off our ship the sooner either of us would feel safe again. The hall to the helm was nearly empty as I crested the stairs, finding only a handful of figures standing around Kelfen and Metek as the pair organized the rescue and aid parties around a few other qualified medics. From how they were talking I figured the pair would be doing much the same on the ground, a small swell of pride filled my chest as Metek looked up, meeting the woman at his side’s eyes as she asked a question, hardly stuttering as he answered.
Though my mood was quickly soured as I noticed a mass of gray scales and scars that’d ‘strayed’ away from the group towards the helm. Even in my suit it was still taller than me by a full head while hunched over staring down at the angular pad in its grip.
And I didn’t much care.
“Back to your group.” I grumbled, the thumping clang of my suit boots on the decking punctuating my words as I passed. “Wouldn’t want you missin’ anyone down there.”
A low, rolling growl tumbled from its throat as it turned its head, looking down to meet my eyes before the sound shifted into a throaty chuckle that sounded far more like an actual ‘gator than I cared for. “I assure you, Captain, I’ve reviewed the documents as thoroughly as should be expected.”
“I hope so, Arxur.” I replied, turning back to the helm and forcing myself forward.
“You know, Human, I was surprised to learn that the very ship that would deliver me to aid this world was the very one I’d tried to drop a building on.” The Arxur purred, stopping me in my tracks as their voice rolled through the air like a saw through a cedar. “Odd that my second went missing shortly after she’d decided to board it.”
“Hmph.” I grunted in return, shifting to look over my shoulder and past them to the light pink stain on the bulkhead. “That’s what’s left of her, if’n you wanna pay your respects.”
The Arxur followed my eyeline, studying the stain and the small indent the shell had left behind before letting out a grating chuff of laughter. “She was overconfident and underskilled as a hunter. I’ve no respects to pay to weaklings such as her. You have done me a favor in ridding me of her.”
“Well I’d rather not have to do any more favors for you. Keep yourself, and your men, out of trouble and away from my helm.”
The Arxur narrowed its eyes, staring at me for a long moment before nodding, a horridly jagged smile splitting its lips. “It is good to finally meet a Human with a spine. I will keep my hunters out of their way and away from your pre- friends.”
“Good.” I stated, turning on my heel to trudge into the helm, the auto-door hissing and clacking shut behind me as I stepped out of sight and inside to join Taisa. She was all but curled up in her seat; clad in her suit she looked more like an over-sized armadillo than a Venlil. Her Tail fell stiff as I stepped in, her eyes whipping around to stare at me before her ears perked, a sigh of relief flooding the comms as she relaxed back into the seat.
“Thank Polani! You’re ok. Are we ready to fly, Love?”
“Yea, we’re ready. Let’s get this shit over with.” I grumbled before powering down the suit and sliding myself free of its confines. My pilot’s seat welcomed me as I slid behind the helm, running through Polani’s starting sequence before turning to meet her eyes again. “I’m feelin’ like we need a fuckin’ dog, Darlin’.”
>Agreed.<
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submitted by Liberty-Prime76 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
A big thanks to for helping with proofreading! He writes Out of Our Elements which is a very good one! If you like a good fic in the wilderness and a pair of cute 'friends' ;) you'll love OOE!
Also thank you to ! For this wonderful fanart of Taisa. And this one! She's so cute I'm gonna die
And thank you to ! For this adorable fanart of Chris and Renkel! Dear god help he's adorable I love him so much
Thank you , or AsciiSquid on Discord, for makin'
Thank you ! For this astounding Pixel Art of Taisa after a few range day dates with Chris! Her little hat and gunbelt are absolutely astounding!
Thank you ! For this Artwork of Taisa and Chris as characters from One Piece! I've never seen or read it before but it's incredibly cute!
Thank you to for their wonderful work of several LoM fanfics!
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Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 20th, 2136
Stars above a paw with good news would be appreciated.
The Warren was silent but for the click-clack of Renkel’s claws on my pad as I sat at the island, staring down at my now cold bowl of crispy brown vegetables. Rensa had fallen further over the last paw, sinking well past where she had been after her accident. I think hope, fear and Renkel were the only things keeping me from stumbling into the night beside her.
My attention tracked across the living room as I swiveled the stool around to focus on the window she was sat in front of, with all I could see being the thread of a shadow slowly bringing the glass to her mouth; the only sign to tell me she was still there at all. I’d thought about replacing the gin with something gentler this waking, it had worked for a glass, keeping her marginally more lucid before she’d decided to refill it herself. Then before too long she was back to the same torpid drift she’d lost herself in these last few paws.
The clink of my skewer against the side of the bowl in front of me split the solemn, cold air of the kitchen as I let out a sigh, turning to look at the beads tic-tacing against each other in front of the open window beside the hearth. My eyes hung on the open thread waiting, almost eagerly, to be filled, for the news of our loss so that sordid black bead could find its new home.
My heart sank at the thought of receiving that message.
Of being informed that they really were gone.
Of having to confront the reality of our loss.
Having to explain to Renkel that his sister was never coming home, that Chris would never share his stories with him again.
That two of his best friends in the world had been taken from him.
Rensa falling even further, spiraling well beyond anything I could ever truly help her recover from.
The image of their stars drifting on the basin brought pooling tears to the corners of my eyes, pulling at the threads binding my heart like Night’s whipping winds.
I could feel them threatening to fall as I wrenched my eyes from Kalthet hanging in the window, squeezing them shut to push the horror away, to do anything and everything I could for my family.
For Rensa, for Renkel.
For them.
Come on, gray coat, do it for the-
The familiar chime of my pad drifted from Renkel on the couch, perking my ears to the distinct tune as he mewled curiously, locked onto the pad just as I was.
Was that Tais-
“PAPA!” My son squealed, leaping from the couch to fill the Warren with the rapid pitter-patter of his paws on hardwood followed along with a rapid beat of chime after chime from the pad he all but threw at me.
My heart swayed for a moment, a growing sprout of hope blooming as I gently plucked the pad from his paws, my tail slipping around him, pulling him close as I stared down at the noisy pad. The wheels in my mind spun on slick ground as panic, elation and worry filled my thoughts, my breath hitched, trying to push me onward to read even the first message as they came rushing in like a fresh harvest. Before long they stopped, messages about them going up to a peak to watch, the food Darlene had made, how much she hoped she’d see us again, terror at the Arxur’s arrival, jubilation that the federation had been driven away.
And then they turned to a tide of growing worry as her messages asked where we were, what was going on and how the town was holding up. Questions asking if we were getting the messages flooded in next, creeping closer and closer together before one finally broke the chain with an >Embarassed.< tail sign emote. A heavy sigh of relief tumbled from my mouth as I pulled Renkel a little closer, reading the message aloud to the pup with high ears and a blooming warmth in my chest.
“Hey Papa, looks like relays have been down for… a while. I’m ok, Chris is… mostly ok. I don’t know when you will get this, but whenever you do, I want you to know we’re coming home soon. I love you.”
My attention swung back to the window and the shadow hanging on the curtains between us as Renkel’s paws flew into the air, the pitter-patter of his feet on the hardwood racing around the living room, scooping up his book and bolting upstairs with an elated squeal. My tail fell into an excited wag before I looked back to the pad, the biting worry for Rensa gnawing a little harder at my gut dulled by the fact that they were alive! My daughter and Chris were, seemingly, safe. As worried as I was about reports of the Arxur on Earth, I couldn’t help but be elated at the news. Which certainly didn’t stay my claws from typing out a field of questions of my own as they sprouted to mind.
Taikel:
Oh thank the stars you’re ok, Oil-Spot!
What happened with the ship crash, the U.N. said it started a giant fire???
Are you two safe?
What are the Arxur doing there?
Where are the Arxur?
Where are you?
Her chat-flower bloomed after a few agonizingly long moments, setting the coiled tension in my heart loose as joyful tears slipped free into my wool. I hadn’t thought that little purple flower opening and closing could simultaneously elicit so many emotions.
Taisa:
Papa! Stars above I was worried something had happened.
Venlil ship rammed a fed light cruiser, lit the forest and mountainsides on fire real bad. We spent the last two paws doing our best to help put that out. Its contained and almost gone now so we’re getting shifted.We’re safe, mostly. We’ve got a worrying shipment with a few aid crews for the next paw or two but we’ve been approved to return to Heartwood after that is done.
They helped push the feds back and now they’re helping >Disbelief.< with the rebuilding efforts. Neither of us are particularly pleased with that.
Not sure about all of them but at least three of them are going to be on Polani. >Anger. Worry.<
We’re at Chris’ families, getting Polani ready to go get started with our ‘aid teams’.
How’re Mama and Renkel?
My heart stuck in my throat as I looked up at the window again, peering at Rensa’s shadow as the sound of Renkel excitedly foraging in his room met my ears, searching for the best words to say. I settled on the truth.
Taikel:
Renkel is currently running about the house like he’s had a cup of Chris’ ‘coffee’ again squealing happy. Your Mama is… not doing great right now but hopefully this news helps!
Any idea when you two will be home?
Taisa:
As soon as we can, not sure of exactly how many paws but I promise I’ll keep you updated.
Please let Mama know we’ll be home as soon as we can be.
Taikel:
I will, stay safe for me, Oil-Spot.
Taisa:
We’ll do our best, Papa. Love you.
Taikel:
Love you too.
I set the pad down and found myself staring at the Kalthet again, focusing on the empty space, ecstatic that another black spot wouldn’t yet truly fill our lives.
But it has filled the lives of others. Those people in the shelters… How many have lost family they know they’ll never see again?
>Enough.< A small nod bobbed my chin as I turned, padding up stairs to find Renkel. We’d been cooped up in the Warren long enough; it was harvest-time for all of us to get out and start helping. Besides, stars and I know that if that boy was good at anything other than foraging for new facts it was being a beacon of light in the world.
[Advance Transcript by Time Unit: 1.5 Hours]
Renkel let out an excited giggle, bouncing on his feet as I poured another glass for Rensa, splashing a claw of gin before diluting it with water and fire-fruit oil. Hard stopping hadn’t worked last time and it wouldn’t this time either, not without her howling in pain for paws on end… I couldn’t put her through that for another minute, let alone a few paws. But if I eased her down then it’d be better, it’d be tolerable for her and I was sure that Taisa and Chris’ return would snap her out of her stupor and break the fire just as fast as it’d started.
Or at least I hoped as hard as I could that it would.
Renkel bounds to the door, still jumping in place as his tail lashes about behind him excitedly, barely containing his squeaks as I open the door and wave him on outside. The cool twilight air flows into my wool as the beautiful golden rays dance in my eyes, casting the sky in a beautiful tapestry of colors. I’d seen it a thousand times, every waking of my life and yet, right now, it felt like the first time in forever.
Renkel doesn’t slow, bolting to the truck and calling out an upbeat whistle to Rensa as I stoop at her side, gently extracting the now-empty glass from her paws and replacing it with the new one before nuzzling her crown with an excited, hopeful mewl. “Taisa’s alright darling, they’ll be home in a few paws! Renkel and I are going to the shelter to try and help… do you want to come?”
A noncommittal, foggy grunt of acknowledgment was all I received alongside a weak return of my affections. The knot of pain in my chest tightened down again at the sight of my love, steeping in the fog hanging in her mind. It hurt to see her like this again, especially with the knowledge that the fear and anguish, the very cause of her pain, wasn’t true. Aside from patience and doing my best to gently lift her from the pit she’d dug to hide herself there was little I could do to truly help her.
So patience and a steady paw was what I would provide.
I gave her crown a small lick before I rose, gently easing her back down into her seat with the strongest purr I could manage. “We’ll be back soon, love. Get some rest, things will get better from here, I promise.”
The crunch of gravel beneath bolting paws reached my ears as I turned toward the truck, the excited squeaks, chirps and whistles erupting from Renkel faltered as he slowed to a stop at my side. His voice was a whisper as I turned him to pad to the truck, concern in his voice mirrored in how tight he clutched his book to his chest. “I-Is Mama coming with us?”
“No, Rekan, Mama’s still tired so she’s gonna stay home this time.” I whispered back, my paw squeezing his shoulder as my tail wrapped around his wrist. “But she wants us to go have all the fun we can at the shelter!
“Ok!” The pup’s ears perk, his tail wagging enthusiastically with the answer, tiny claws prodding me onward to the truck before tossing his head over his shoulder to shout to Rensa. “Lets go! Love you Mama! I’ll tell you all about it when we get home!”
A placid >You too.< was all he received.
That didn’t steal the shine from his field though, the joyful sound of his whistling accompanying the rapid prodding of his claws as he pushed me onward to the truck. The passenger door gives its usual whining squeal as it swings open, reminding me once again to call Parnel…
Later. Right now we help.
Renkel’s voice danced with enthusiasm as I hefted him up off his feet and into the seat beside mine, strapping him in as he sang and whistled Taisa’s chime. Before long I found myself joining him as I stepped back, gently swinging the door shut before padding to the drivers side, the hopeful tune dancing in the air around me as I climbed in alongside my son, gently pulling him close for a moment and earning a surprised mewl in return.
“You all ready, Rekan?”
>Yes!<
The truck’s engine shudders to life as Renkel props his book up on his lap, happily reading aloud to me about a new ‘fishy’ the ‘Blue Whale’. The rumble thrums through the truck as I slip it into gear, the familiar sound accompanied by the crunch of gravel under tread before it fades into the whispering hum of slow tires on asphalt. I turned my eyes for a moment, harvesting another look at Rensa lounging beside the Warren’s door.
And that little bloom of hope grew just a bit larger at the thought of them home, of her whole again. Of us whole again. I could handle this, in a paw or two she’d be lucid enough again. Then she’d be happy again.
And stars above that’s all I ever wanted.
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 20th, 2136
They’re late.
The heft of my loading suit felt like little more than a heavy coat as I stood at the top of Polani’s ramp, alone. Taisa was still up in the helm, likewise suited and strapped as we waited for the grays to arrive, along with their U.N. Handlers. Neither of us was particularly excited about any of this but we still had to do it. Still had to bend the knee every time the U.N. called us up.
We’d done everything they’d wanted us to do, hauled a few thousand souls off the Cradle, more’n that off Earth in the last few days, a quarter of which from places that just weren’t anymore…
And I still didn’t know if Anna was alright. They couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell me a definitive answer about what happened to her or the museum’s bunker, and it was eating me. Ma’n Pa’d told me I should wait, do my best to keep a level head, keep myself on track and I’d tried. Tried to keep everything straight in my head, to focus on helping people where I could and… and I still couldn’t stop the knife in my gut twisting at losing my little sister.
Patience… Anna’s always been lucky, she’ll be alright. She will.
My eyes turned skyward, looking up at the drifting plume of smoke and ash that still hung in the northern sky. The ash, dust, debris and dreams of a few hundred million people stained the sky that awful gray-brown that stretched for hundreds of miles. Each crater that’d once been a city had looked like over-eager paint smudges from orbit. Looking down at them and biting my lip was about all I could do to keep from crying my eyes out at the idea of what was left of Anna drifting along with… everyone else.
“Still don’t see them, Love!” Taisa whistled through our suit’s comms channel, the upbeat, hopeful lilt dancing in her voice, pulling me from the darkening rapids in my mind. I could practically hear her wagging tail as I shifted to look both ways across the Tarmac, spotting a quartet of white vans and a few loaded cargo trucks.
Damn shame. Would’ve rather just gone home to help Ma an’ Pa rather’n taxi some fuckin’ ‘gators around.
“Hate to rain on our parade here, Darlin’, but I don’t think we’re gettin’ out of it that easy… Fuckin’ half hour late or not.”
Her voice deflated as I heard her sigh filter through the suit’s speakers, a note of fear replacing the hope that’d sung just a moment before. “Ah Speh… and we were so close.”
“Another half hour and I’d’ve called it.” I grumbled back, the heavy clunk of my suit’s boots against the ramp echoing through the cavernous hold as I walked down to the tarmac below. “Stay up in the helm, I’ll get the aid workers, and the fuckin’ ‘gators, settled fast as I can manage.”
“Ok, Love.” Was the only response I received, the fear in her voice building to the point that all I wanted to do was slam the hold shut and comfort her rather than play host to the U.N.’s next great idea for our lives.
Unfortunately that wasn’t an actual option.
The quartet of vans slowed to a stop a hundred yards away, followed by the cargo trucks shuddering to a stop on either side of them, sliding open to reveal the first two were entirely filled with Peacekeepers, Human and Zurulian aid workers and a handful of bags, equipment and medicine, the other pair were packed to the gills with Peacekeepers and Arxur. Suddenly everything felt awful familiar as the horde of scaled bastards slunk from their trucks, their attention bouncing all around the space-port before finally settling on Polani and me.
Some of them bickered back and forth in that grating, growling language as it gutting the air just outside my translator's range and set my nerves alight as they pointed up at the star on Polani’s flank. I could feel the tension in my shoulders growing as they approached, following a few yards behind the first Peacekeeper in the bunch and the pair of shaking Zurulians practically beneath her feet. At least they were a few familiar faces amongst the gray tide rising toward me.
“Captain Dewey! Good to see you again! Was worried about you.” Colonel Connolly called to me, Kelfen and Metek’s scared eyes snapping to me, the pair seeming to relax at least a little.
“Colonel, it's good to see you’re alright as well, I hope things have been better for you than us. Kelfen, Metek, good to see you as well.” I replied with a wary voice, my eyes not leaving the horde lingering behind them.
“That’s a word for it.” Metek grumbled, his ears darting about as he shot worried glances behind him, nervously fiddling with his backpack’s straps. “C-Can we still use the room we were using before? We need to set up which teams a-are going where.”
“Certainly, I presume you know the way?”
>Yes.<
“Hop to it then.” I stated, inviting them past me as Kelfen shouted over her shoulder, calling the other aid workers and a handful of peacekeepers to follow them before they padded upstairs, followed closely by a myriad of Humans, Zurulians, Yotul, Venlil and, surprisingly, a few annoyed looking Arxur.
“Now, onto the cargo.” Connolly stated, stepping up beside me to look out at the gathered trucks. “ORF-SP’s got a few cargo-shovers on the way over we’re good to use for the transfers today. Them and the load should be sub-size for your hold so we’ll still have space for our new friends to stay downstairs with a few of my Peacekeepers. We’ll have you loaded up and on our way in a few minutes at the most.”
“Good.” I stated, not taking my eyes off of the grays as I heard the throaty hum of cargo-shovers rolling around Polani’s bow to take up station behind the cargo trucks, slipping their loads free of the trailers with ease. “Faster this is done the faster I can get Tai somewhere that neither of us are on the edge of a breakdown.”
“Agreed.” She stated, leaning to whisper in, what she assumed, was the suit’s ear. “I’m not exactly a fan of the lizards either, Cap’ but… if they’re willing to help haul people out of the rubble, and behave, then I’m willing to take the help.”
I nodded, letting out a long sigh as I stepped aside to let the first cargo-shover crawl up the ramp with its load, cresting into the hold before settling down with a sharp hiss from its pneumatics. “Neither are we. If any of them fuck’s with me or Taisa…”
“They’ll have to go through me and my Peacekeepers, Cap’; trust me I won’t let that happen if I can help it. Besides, once you’ve dropped us off you’re off the hook for any more Arxur loads, just aid moving for a few days. Old Moose says he’s trying to limit his crews to one Arxur flight each. About how long will it take to get to NYC?”
“‘Bout an hour or so.” I replied, a small smile crossing my face at the mention of the Mercy’s giant of a Captain. It wasn’t often I met someone bigger than me but God and Stars above if that man didn’t make me feel small. “Well I’ll have to thank him for that, next I see him. Still owe him and Charlie a drink; need to sort that out.”
“I’m sure the both of them would be happy with whatever you bring along at this point. Anyhow, you’ve got a ship to fly and I’ve got a bunch of idiots and lizards to wrangle.” She replied, waving the Peacekeepers and Arxur aboard with a shout as the last of the cargo-shovers crawled to a stop and settled down to the decking. “ALRIGHT, NO ONE TOUCHES ANYTHING YOU AREN’T ASKED, OR TOLD, TO! HANSEN, AKSEL, ANTOINE, GET YOUR SECTIONS TOGETHER AND REA-”
I shook my head with a small laugh at the familiar display, turning to walk upstairs to Taisa and the Helm. The sooner this was done and all the ‘gators were off our ship the sooner either of us would feel safe again. The hall to the helm was nearly empty as I crested the stairs, finding only a handful of figures standing around Kelfen and Metek as the pair organized the rescue and aid parties around a few other qualified medics. From how they were talking I figured the pair would be doing much the same on the ground, a small swell of pride filled my chest as Metek looked up, meeting the woman at his side’s eyes as she asked a question, hardly stuttering as he answered.
Though my mood was quickly soured as I noticed a mass of gray scales and scars that’d ‘strayed’ away from the group towards the helm. Even in my suit it was still taller than me by a full head while hunched over staring down at the angular pad in its grip.
And I didn’t much care.
“Back to your group.” I grumbled, the thumping clang of my suit boots on the decking punctuating my words as I passed. “Wouldn’t want you missin’ anyone down there.”
A low, rolling growl tumbled from its throat as it turned its head, looking down to meet my eyes before the sound shifted into a throaty chuckle that sounded far more like an actual ‘gator than I cared for. “I assure you, Captain, I’ve reviewed the documents as thoroughly as should be expected.”
“I hope so, Arxur.” I replied, turning back to the helm and forcing myself forward.
“You know, Human, I was surprised to learn that the very ship that would deliver me to aid this world was the very one I’d tried to drop a building on.” The Arxur purred, stopping me in my tracks as their voice rolled through the air like a saw through a cedar. “Odd that my second went missing shortly after she’d decided to board it.”
“Hmph.” I grunted in return, shifting to look over my shoulder and past them to the light pink stain on the bulkhead. “That’s what’s left of her, if’n you wanna pay your respects.”
The Arxur followed my eyeline, studying the stain and the small indent the shell had left behind before letting out a grating chuff of laughter. “She was overconfident and underskilled as a hunter. I’ve no respects to pay to weaklings such as her. You have done me a favor in ridding me of her.”
“Well I’d rather not have to do any more favors for you. Keep yourself, and your men, out of trouble and away from my helm.”
The Arxur narrowed its eyes, staring at me for a long moment before nodding, a horridly jagged smile splitting its lips. “It is good to finally meet a Human with a spine. I will keep my hunters out of their way and away from your pre- friends.”
“Good.” I stated, turning on my heel to trudge into the helm, the auto-door hissing and clacking shut behind me as I stepped out of sight and inside to join Taisa. She was all but curled up in her seat; clad in her suit she looked more like an over-sized armadillo than a Venlil. Her Tail fell stiff as I stepped in, her eyes whipping around to stare at me before her ears perked, a sigh of relief flooding the comms as she relaxed back into the seat.
“Thank Polani! You’re ok. Are we ready to fly, Love?”
“Yea, we’re ready. Let’s get this shit over with.” I grumbled before powering down the suit and sliding myself free of its confines. My pilot’s seat welcomed me as I slid behind the helm, running through Polani’s starting sequence before turning to meet her eyes again. “I’m feelin’ like we need a fuckin’ dog, Darlin’.”
>Agreed.<
2024.06.07 13:33 Jus17173 Depth of Madness - Chapter 1 - (Edge of Madness book 2)
Hey guys! It's the Mbengo guy (Saw someone call me that in one of the short articles I was posting on this sub a while back) I'm here to bring you book 2 of the Madness series. And I'm so sorry it's taken me over two years to deliver, but I just had to get the story right. Book one was titled 'Edge of Madness'. Book two is called 'Depth of Madness.'
For those who haven't read Book One, here's the Synopsis for Book One of the Madness Series, Edge of Madness:
500 years ago, the Goddess of Order, Meena, chose a mortal whom she fancied and made him her champion, bestowing upon him great power that ensured he never lost a war and he always prevailed in the face of adversity. The 'Jojoh Meena', the blessing of the Goddess of Order, was passed down from the mortal whom she favored and down through the line of his male descendants who became Kings of the Kingdom of Binoria. The descendants, with the power of the Goddess, waged war against their rival Kingdoms. Nearly wiping out the kingdom of Kolotia who defied their rule. Subjugating the Remu and the Talisi Kingdoms and forcing them to pay an annual penance to the mighty Binoria to ensure their fate doesn't mirror that of Kolotia. Vayin Vigon, present king of Binoria and holder of the blessing of the Goddess as his ancestors before him, sits on the red throne of the most powerful kingdom in the realm, Binoria. King Vayin Vigon is unstoppable in and out of the field of battle and his reign of tyranny seems to have no end. But unbeknownst to King Vayin is a Kolotian shepherd named Ishar, a young man who catches the eye of the God of Chaos, a malevolent God named Ovek who seeks to right the wrong done to the realm 500 years ago by the Goddess Meena. As the Goddess of Order gave to the Kings of Binoria so must the God of Chaos take from Ishar so as to restore balance within the realm. And the price deemed fit to be paid by Ishar so as to be the champion of Chaos, is the young Kolotian's sanity. Will madness be enough to overcome tyranny?
Here's the link to the first Chapter of Edge of Madness :
Edge of Madness Chapter One
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For those of you who haven't read the first book, do not read the Synopsis for Depth of Madness for it contains spoilers. I'm posting this to jog the memory of those who've already read the first book and aren't looking to re-read it.
Here's the Synopsis for Depth of Madness, Book 2 of the Madness Series:
In a realm where gods and their chosen champions vie for power, an unprecedented threat emerges, demanding unity among unlikely allies.
Ishar, a Kolotian and the champion of the God of Chaos, disappears into the desert seeking to liberate his hidden kin. His madness, traded for his chaotic power, makes his quest as unpredictable as it is vital.
Rehny, housing the Goddess of Love, Nyawe, seeks nothing more than a quiet life of farming, far from the turmoil of civilization. Despite his abandonment of the sword and his title as commander of Binoria’s legions, fate conspires to draw him back into a conflict he cannot escape.
Mairek, the champion of the God of Space and Time, finds himself bearing the overwhelming expectations of the kingdom of Talisi. As plans hinge on his success, he faces relentless pressure, all while Time itself seems bent on his destruction.
In the kingdom of Remu, Edda, newly promoted from spy to knight, embarks on a critical mission to awaken the slumbering Goddess Alietsi. If she fails, she must seek aid from other champions to prepare Remu for an impending assault on a weakened Binoria.
Half-siblings Dahli and Masutap, champions of the Goddess of Order, find themselves on opposite sides of a devastating conflict. As queen of Binoria, Dahli is determined to thwart their brother Leba and his dark patron, Locha, the bringer of endless night. With annihilation looming, her resolve is unyielding, yet the path to salvation is fraught with peril.
Far across the Rankf Sea, in the hidden land of Basi Haya, Kaza, a member of the exiled Rad es Maalas, embarks on his own journey, one that will reveal his unexpected role as a key figure in the unfolding events. As Kaza’s path to becoming the champion of Sin is revealed, his emergence will have profound implications for the realm, even as many remain unaware of his existence.
As these champions converge, their fates intertwined, they must set aside their differences to confront the ultimate threat: Leba and his malevolent deity, Locha. With the very fabric of their realm at stake, unity becomes their only hope against the overwhelming power of total obliteration.
In this epic continuation of the saga, alliances will be tested, destinies forged, and the line between order and chaos will blur as heroes and villains clash in a battle for the soul of the world.
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Okay, let me post the first Chapter of DoM, sorry for the long intro. And I just want to say I missed you guys so much, I had so much fun on this sub while posting the first book. So many debates and fun interactions with constructive criticism and humor based on the story. It was fun and I'm hoping we can do this all again.
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Chapter 1
On the night he was born, Dragons raged in the sky. Fire lit the expanse above the ground, bathing clouds in an orange glow. Roars that made teacups tremble sounded throughout the whole continent of Basi Haya. and in a tiny shack, forged of dry reeds and rotting wood, a child was born to a whore. A child whose cries were drowned out by the malevolent cries of the Dragons warring above.
"He is a healthy boy, Raco. You must be proud." The midwife said. An old woman whose back was arched, laden with the weight of time. She was the only midwife in the tiny village south of the Dragon belt bordering on the Rankf sea. The crows feet adorning her eyes and the deep farrows above her brow spoke not only of the number of oscillations she'd lived through, but also her skill when it came to the task she'd partook in since her youth, birthing.
Raco's eyes didn't leave her child. There, on a bed made of bull rawhide, with a small smear of blood beneath her, her eyes stayed glued on the child. A birth that had taken three hours, a toil that was a necessity in the face of nature. Blood and pain, she was familiar with both now. By Sin she was familiar. It had been the story of her life and now it seemed to be nearing its conclusion, the child in her arms was destined to carry her story forth. Yet, what glory would the son of a whore obtain?
Sweat dripped from her brow, stinging her eyes. She blinked the discomfort away. His cries were endless, yet they caressed her soul, intertwined with her own silent cries. "Hush little one." She said and cradled him tighter to her bosom, the baby became lax in its wails, ceasing in its restlessness brought about by his first breath. It was as if the child knew what life was and Raco could hear his objection to the necessary toil a life led in order to sustain itself. But his limbs were so small and the way he waved them about, as if to rage against his own existence was awfully cute. Raco tickled the child's tummy with her index finger, the child, not knowing laughter, proceeded to thrash about. Raco smiled at the child. Bright flashes of light from outside aided the torch light within the shack and she was able to take in the child's rich green skin that was yet to become a pallid green grey as her own was. Yes, the green skin marked him as one of her race, the Rad es Maalas, and his eyes, yellow in their intensity, peered up at her. She felt a kinship with him, a camaraderie of sorts that comes into being with the creation of new life. She would do anything for him. She would charge the Dragons that warred above and bring their endless song of fire and brimstone to a frozen halt.
"They say the Queen of the East is delivering a child tonight as well." The old woman said.
"The business of royalty is not my concern." Raco answered.
"They say the child will be marked for Sin, just as yours is."
"That is absurd!"
"The Dragons do not lie, their fire that lights the sky is not one of anguish, but of jubilation. The Queen's child is marked for greatness." The old hag said. "Do you know the father?" She asked, pointing a crooked finger at the child in Raco's arms. Silence met her question. "Knowing your profession of Sin, the child must be nameless for there is no male to claim him."
Profession of Sin. Yes, that was the short take on her life. In Basi Haya, Sin was frowned upon. Seen as the reason behind their banishment from a land across the Rankf sea. A land they longed to return to, a land without Dragons, the henchmen of Sin. It is Sin that led the Queen of the East and the King of the West to form the Purge Accords. A period when Sin was purged from the Rad es Maalas so as to appease the Dragons and calm their rage.
Tonight, the dragons raged, seeking their penance that was a long time coming. A roar sounded from above and the baby renewed its cries with vigor.
"Don't be frightened little one, their cries are of anguish and not strength, when the moon is full so is their pain full as well. They have to release it and fire is the result of this." She raised herself off the bed, holding the baby to her chest.
"Where are you going?" The old woman asked.
"I want him to see." Raco said as she passed her on the way to the door.
"Are you mad? The bastard might die and —" Her words were lost to Raco. She exited the shack with the babe in her arms.
Raco was greeted to something out of a fever dream. The shack was a solitary dwelling, paces away from the rest of the village. The night was bright with the full moon upon the sky and the fire that lit the clouds from the circling dragons above forged a covalence of hues so radiant in their beauty, that her lips parted in awe. The old hag kept calling to her, beckoning her to return to the shelter of her abode. But she turned a deaf ear. Her feet shuffled, dragging her forward, one step at a time, away from the old woman, away from the shack. Towards the Dragon's discern.The place where you are in the Dragon's mercy.
The baby's cries couldn't be heard, the very earth trembled before the onslaught raging above. The Dragons. Large winged creatures. Their hide was forged of scales that couldn't be penetrated. The scales overlapped, sheathing the creature in armor. They had large serrated teeth, the size of a grown man's arm. No man has ever killed a Dragon. But the Dragons have claimed the lives of many men. Mostly fools who were in the open when their bloodlust ruled the sky. Fools like her.
Raco turned her gaze away from the sky, she peered into her son's eyes. Seeing the blaze, dancing along his yellow irises. "We are little things, little one," she said. "There are things that will be stronger than you, and there are those that will be weaker. This is what defines a man's place in the realm, may your strength be a sharp contrast to your weakness."
Raco took delight in her son's silence, his cries had dwindled to a dying stream. The only sound was that of the Dragons above. She moved to speak some more, thinking her words were somehow reaching her son, as if by a link that tied their souls together. Then she decided against it, she just held him up to the sky by his arms, the thin blanket afforded to her by the midwife, dangled from the child.
After a span of moments, she made as if to return to the shack, satisfied with her daring attempt to give her son a view of a sky lit by Dragons. But a growl behind her held her in place. She turned, slowly, to come eye to eye with a Dragon. It had descended from the sky, silently, it had crawled and slithered upon the ground until it was five paces away from her. How a creature as large as it could move without a sound left her quite bewildered. Large claws dug into the ground as the creature inched closer. She couldn't tell the hue of its scales by moonlight alone, but it was rich in its darkness. Its head, the size of a cart, meandered with the aid of its long neck, and its arms that held protruding wings conjoined to the flank of its midriff, stuck free of the creature by its elbows, climbing high into the sky, the length of ten grown men perched one upon the other. The creature opened its maw and the width of its jaw stood the length of her entire body.
Raco was made witness to rows of large serrated teeth, fit to dismember a man limb from limb. I will be purged of sin. She thought, the words passed down from her forefathers who'd stood before Dragons. All of the Rad es Maalas have ancestors who've met their death before Dragons. It was a customary act in the past. It is said that if a man stood before a Dragon and didn't meet his end through being birthed in flame, then that man was the champion of Sin and could tame the Dragons. The belief was later made obsolete, as the death toll climbed towards overwhelming numbers, extinction threatened them. No man has lived while within the Dragon's discern. The same place she currently stood. Before the eyes of a Dragon.
The babe in her arms, twisted, turned and faced the Dragon. The child raised his small, pudgy arms towards the Dragon. Then gave what only Raco could interpret as a child's laugh. A sound forged of obliviousness to the seriousness of matters. A pleasure in not knowing the ways of things.
The Dragon's mouth abruptly closed. Then the creature stood still, its eyes trained on them. The child cried out, raising his arms and waving at the beast before him. And Raco trembled as the Dragon gave an answering growl. The child cried out again, lifting his small fingers. The Dragon inched forward and its snout touched the child's outstretched arms.
Silence engulfed Raco where she stood. The babe trembled within her arms, she felt faint with dread. Yet, nothing was happening. The dragon and the child were locked in a silent contest, one willing their soul to overcome the other's spirit. She didn't know how she understood what was happening. All she could see was a Dragon being tamed. Somehow her child...
The Dragon edged back, suddenly. It opened its mouth with its face turned towards the sky and gave out a manic roar that had Raco stumbling back to land on her behind. The babe still in her arms, cried out with glee, as if seeking to match the Dragon's roar. Suddenly, the Dragon's midriff glowed. A flame coalescing, it climbed the length of its neck and when it reached its mouth, the flames poured out of the Dragon, shooting into the sky in a fierce orange jet of heat.
The Dragon flapped its arms, gaining momentum, the wind from the beating wings tagged at Raco's dark hair. The heat from the Dragon threatened to scorch her skin, yet the child in her arms cried out, his mouth spread out in a large toothless smile. The child's eyes! * Raco exclaimed. The irises weren't yellow as hers were — as it was for all the Rad es Maalas. Neither were they round. *The eyes! They were vertical slits, dark as a Dragon's.
The Dragon climbed into the sky, rising higher and higher. Becoming smaller as it drifted ever further into the large abyss above. Raco got off the ground and turned her face to her son, she held him some length from her body, as if frightened of something. Then brushing away the absurdity of a mother fearing her spawn, she brought him closer until their faces were inches apart. His eyes have changed. The vertical slits peering up at her were a testament of this.
Suddenly, the shack door opened and out came a trembling old woman, her face trailing streams of tears. She raised her trembling limbs to the sky and cried out. "Sijalad!" Meaning: Champion of sin.
Raco stared at the old woman as she inched closer, crying the same name over and over. She'd been a witness to what had just occurred, so it wasn't a dream or a malady brought about by birth. What the old woman had seen had definitely happened, it wasn't a figment of her imagination, a weary mind brought about by the perils of birth. No, they had stood before a Dragon and lived. And her son. Her dear infant child, was changed by it. "Sijalad!" The old woman knelt down before her, and raised her voice in the ancient worship of Sin. Raco's eyes turned to her son, his lids were closed, the child was fast asleep. She touched his pudgy hand with one finger, prying it open, then she rested her finger within her son's embrace. Abruptly, the baby's fingers curled around her finger, tightening with quite the grip for an infant.
"I will name him Kaza." Raco said. The word meant, To tighten. The child was destined to have a grip on the impossible. As Kaza had proved that night.
"Kaza Sijalad!" The old woman cried out.
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Did you enjoy this chapter? Want more? If you're eager to continue the journey and can't wait for the next installment, you can check out my [Patreon](patreon.com/user?u=53923380)
By supporting me there, you not only get early access to more chapters but also exclusive content, behind-the-scenes insights, and much more.
Your support means the world to me and helps me continue writing. Thank you for reading!
submitted by Jus17173 to HFY [link] [comments]
For those who haven't read Book One, here's the Synopsis for Book One of the Madness Series, Edge of Madness:
500 years ago, the Goddess of Order, Meena, chose a mortal whom she fancied and made him her champion, bestowing upon him great power that ensured he never lost a war and he always prevailed in the face of adversity. The 'Jojoh Meena', the blessing of the Goddess of Order, was passed down from the mortal whom she favored and down through the line of his male descendants who became Kings of the Kingdom of Binoria. The descendants, with the power of the Goddess, waged war against their rival Kingdoms. Nearly wiping out the kingdom of Kolotia who defied their rule. Subjugating the Remu and the Talisi Kingdoms and forcing them to pay an annual penance to the mighty Binoria to ensure their fate doesn't mirror that of Kolotia. Vayin Vigon, present king of Binoria and holder of the blessing of the Goddess as his ancestors before him, sits on the red throne of the most powerful kingdom in the realm, Binoria. King Vayin Vigon is unstoppable in and out of the field of battle and his reign of tyranny seems to have no end. But unbeknownst to King Vayin is a Kolotian shepherd named Ishar, a young man who catches the eye of the God of Chaos, a malevolent God named Ovek who seeks to right the wrong done to the realm 500 years ago by the Goddess Meena. As the Goddess of Order gave to the Kings of Binoria so must the God of Chaos take from Ishar so as to restore balance within the realm. And the price deemed fit to be paid by Ishar so as to be the champion of Chaos, is the young Kolotian's sanity. Will madness be enough to overcome tyranny?
Here's the link to the first Chapter of Edge of Madness :
Edge of Madness Chapter One
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For those of you who haven't read the first book, do not read the Synopsis for Depth of Madness for it contains spoilers. I'm posting this to jog the memory of those who've already read the first book and aren't looking to re-read it.
Here's the Synopsis for Depth of Madness, Book 2 of the Madness Series:
In a realm where gods and their chosen champions vie for power, an unprecedented threat emerges, demanding unity among unlikely allies.
Ishar, a Kolotian and the champion of the God of Chaos, disappears into the desert seeking to liberate his hidden kin. His madness, traded for his chaotic power, makes his quest as unpredictable as it is vital.
Rehny, housing the Goddess of Love, Nyawe, seeks nothing more than a quiet life of farming, far from the turmoil of civilization. Despite his abandonment of the sword and his title as commander of Binoria’s legions, fate conspires to draw him back into a conflict he cannot escape.
Mairek, the champion of the God of Space and Time, finds himself bearing the overwhelming expectations of the kingdom of Talisi. As plans hinge on his success, he faces relentless pressure, all while Time itself seems bent on his destruction.
In the kingdom of Remu, Edda, newly promoted from spy to knight, embarks on a critical mission to awaken the slumbering Goddess Alietsi. If she fails, she must seek aid from other champions to prepare Remu for an impending assault on a weakened Binoria.
Half-siblings Dahli and Masutap, champions of the Goddess of Order, find themselves on opposite sides of a devastating conflict. As queen of Binoria, Dahli is determined to thwart their brother Leba and his dark patron, Locha, the bringer of endless night. With annihilation looming, her resolve is unyielding, yet the path to salvation is fraught with peril.
Far across the Rankf Sea, in the hidden land of Basi Haya, Kaza, a member of the exiled Rad es Maalas, embarks on his own journey, one that will reveal his unexpected role as a key figure in the unfolding events. As Kaza’s path to becoming the champion of Sin is revealed, his emergence will have profound implications for the realm, even as many remain unaware of his existence.
As these champions converge, their fates intertwined, they must set aside their differences to confront the ultimate threat: Leba and his malevolent deity, Locha. With the very fabric of their realm at stake, unity becomes their only hope against the overwhelming power of total obliteration.
In this epic continuation of the saga, alliances will be tested, destinies forged, and the line between order and chaos will blur as heroes and villains clash in a battle for the soul of the world.
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Okay, let me post the first Chapter of DoM, sorry for the long intro. And I just want to say I missed you guys so much, I had so much fun on this sub while posting the first book. So many debates and fun interactions with constructive criticism and humor based on the story. It was fun and I'm hoping we can do this all again.
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Chapter 1
On the night he was born, Dragons raged in the sky. Fire lit the expanse above the ground, bathing clouds in an orange glow. Roars that made teacups tremble sounded throughout the whole continent of Basi Haya. and in a tiny shack, forged of dry reeds and rotting wood, a child was born to a whore. A child whose cries were drowned out by the malevolent cries of the Dragons warring above.
"He is a healthy boy, Raco. You must be proud." The midwife said. An old woman whose back was arched, laden with the weight of time. She was the only midwife in the tiny village south of the Dragon belt bordering on the Rankf sea. The crows feet adorning her eyes and the deep farrows above her brow spoke not only of the number of oscillations she'd lived through, but also her skill when it came to the task she'd partook in since her youth, birthing.
Raco's eyes didn't leave her child. There, on a bed made of bull rawhide, with a small smear of blood beneath her, her eyes stayed glued on the child. A birth that had taken three hours, a toil that was a necessity in the face of nature. Blood and pain, she was familiar with both now. By Sin she was familiar. It had been the story of her life and now it seemed to be nearing its conclusion, the child in her arms was destined to carry her story forth. Yet, what glory would the son of a whore obtain?
Sweat dripped from her brow, stinging her eyes. She blinked the discomfort away. His cries were endless, yet they caressed her soul, intertwined with her own silent cries. "Hush little one." She said and cradled him tighter to her bosom, the baby became lax in its wails, ceasing in its restlessness brought about by his first breath. It was as if the child knew what life was and Raco could hear his objection to the necessary toil a life led in order to sustain itself. But his limbs were so small and the way he waved them about, as if to rage against his own existence was awfully cute. Raco tickled the child's tummy with her index finger, the child, not knowing laughter, proceeded to thrash about. Raco smiled at the child. Bright flashes of light from outside aided the torch light within the shack and she was able to take in the child's rich green skin that was yet to become a pallid green grey as her own was. Yes, the green skin marked him as one of her race, the Rad es Maalas, and his eyes, yellow in their intensity, peered up at her. She felt a kinship with him, a camaraderie of sorts that comes into being with the creation of new life. She would do anything for him. She would charge the Dragons that warred above and bring their endless song of fire and brimstone to a frozen halt.
"They say the Queen of the East is delivering a child tonight as well." The old woman said.
"The business of royalty is not my concern." Raco answered.
"They say the child will be marked for Sin, just as yours is."
"That is absurd!"
"The Dragons do not lie, their fire that lights the sky is not one of anguish, but of jubilation. The Queen's child is marked for greatness." The old hag said. "Do you know the father?" She asked, pointing a crooked finger at the child in Raco's arms. Silence met her question. "Knowing your profession of Sin, the child must be nameless for there is no male to claim him."
Profession of Sin. Yes, that was the short take on her life. In Basi Haya, Sin was frowned upon. Seen as the reason behind their banishment from a land across the Rankf sea. A land they longed to return to, a land without Dragons, the henchmen of Sin. It is Sin that led the Queen of the East and the King of the West to form the Purge Accords. A period when Sin was purged from the Rad es Maalas so as to appease the Dragons and calm their rage.
Tonight, the dragons raged, seeking their penance that was a long time coming. A roar sounded from above and the baby renewed its cries with vigor.
"Don't be frightened little one, their cries are of anguish and not strength, when the moon is full so is their pain full as well. They have to release it and fire is the result of this." She raised herself off the bed, holding the baby to her chest.
"Where are you going?" The old woman asked.
"I want him to see." Raco said as she passed her on the way to the door.
"Are you mad? The bastard might die and —" Her words were lost to Raco. She exited the shack with the babe in her arms.
Raco was greeted to something out of a fever dream. The shack was a solitary dwelling, paces away from the rest of the village. The night was bright with the full moon upon the sky and the fire that lit the clouds from the circling dragons above forged a covalence of hues so radiant in their beauty, that her lips parted in awe. The old hag kept calling to her, beckoning her to return to the shelter of her abode. But she turned a deaf ear. Her feet shuffled, dragging her forward, one step at a time, away from the old woman, away from the shack. Towards the Dragon's discern.The place where you are in the Dragon's mercy.
The baby's cries couldn't be heard, the very earth trembled before the onslaught raging above. The Dragons. Large winged creatures. Their hide was forged of scales that couldn't be penetrated. The scales overlapped, sheathing the creature in armor. They had large serrated teeth, the size of a grown man's arm. No man has ever killed a Dragon. But the Dragons have claimed the lives of many men. Mostly fools who were in the open when their bloodlust ruled the sky. Fools like her.
Raco turned her gaze away from the sky, she peered into her son's eyes. Seeing the blaze, dancing along his yellow irises. "We are little things, little one," she said. "There are things that will be stronger than you, and there are those that will be weaker. This is what defines a man's place in the realm, may your strength be a sharp contrast to your weakness."
Raco took delight in her son's silence, his cries had dwindled to a dying stream. The only sound was that of the Dragons above. She moved to speak some more, thinking her words were somehow reaching her son, as if by a link that tied their souls together. Then she decided against it, she just held him up to the sky by his arms, the thin blanket afforded to her by the midwife, dangled from the child.
After a span of moments, she made as if to return to the shack, satisfied with her daring attempt to give her son a view of a sky lit by Dragons. But a growl behind her held her in place. She turned, slowly, to come eye to eye with a Dragon. It had descended from the sky, silently, it had crawled and slithered upon the ground until it was five paces away from her. How a creature as large as it could move without a sound left her quite bewildered. Large claws dug into the ground as the creature inched closer. She couldn't tell the hue of its scales by moonlight alone, but it was rich in its darkness. Its head, the size of a cart, meandered with the aid of its long neck, and its arms that held protruding wings conjoined to the flank of its midriff, stuck free of the creature by its elbows, climbing high into the sky, the length of ten grown men perched one upon the other. The creature opened its maw and the width of its jaw stood the length of her entire body.
Raco was made witness to rows of large serrated teeth, fit to dismember a man limb from limb. I will be purged of sin. She thought, the words passed down from her forefathers who'd stood before Dragons. All of the Rad es Maalas have ancestors who've met their death before Dragons. It was a customary act in the past. It is said that if a man stood before a Dragon and didn't meet his end through being birthed in flame, then that man was the champion of Sin and could tame the Dragons. The belief was later made obsolete, as the death toll climbed towards overwhelming numbers, extinction threatened them. No man has lived while within the Dragon's discern. The same place she currently stood. Before the eyes of a Dragon.
The babe in her arms, twisted, turned and faced the Dragon. The child raised his small, pudgy arms towards the Dragon. Then gave what only Raco could interpret as a child's laugh. A sound forged of obliviousness to the seriousness of matters. A pleasure in not knowing the ways of things.
The Dragon's mouth abruptly closed. Then the creature stood still, its eyes trained on them. The child cried out, raising his arms and waving at the beast before him. And Raco trembled as the Dragon gave an answering growl. The child cried out again, lifting his small fingers. The Dragon inched forward and its snout touched the child's outstretched arms.
Silence engulfed Raco where she stood. The babe trembled within her arms, she felt faint with dread. Yet, nothing was happening. The dragon and the child were locked in a silent contest, one willing their soul to overcome the other's spirit. She didn't know how she understood what was happening. All she could see was a Dragon being tamed. Somehow her child...
The Dragon edged back, suddenly. It opened its mouth with its face turned towards the sky and gave out a manic roar that had Raco stumbling back to land on her behind. The babe still in her arms, cried out with glee, as if seeking to match the Dragon's roar. Suddenly, the Dragon's midriff glowed. A flame coalescing, it climbed the length of its neck and when it reached its mouth, the flames poured out of the Dragon, shooting into the sky in a fierce orange jet of heat.
The Dragon flapped its arms, gaining momentum, the wind from the beating wings tagged at Raco's dark hair. The heat from the Dragon threatened to scorch her skin, yet the child in her arms cried out, his mouth spread out in a large toothless smile. The child's eyes! * Raco exclaimed. The irises weren't yellow as hers were — as it was for all the Rad es Maalas. Neither were they round. *The eyes! They were vertical slits, dark as a Dragon's.
The Dragon climbed into the sky, rising higher and higher. Becoming smaller as it drifted ever further into the large abyss above. Raco got off the ground and turned her face to her son, she held him some length from her body, as if frightened of something. Then brushing away the absurdity of a mother fearing her spawn, she brought him closer until their faces were inches apart. His eyes have changed. The vertical slits peering up at her were a testament of this.
Suddenly, the shack door opened and out came a trembling old woman, her face trailing streams of tears. She raised her trembling limbs to the sky and cried out. "Sijalad!" Meaning: Champion of sin.
Raco stared at the old woman as she inched closer, crying the same name over and over. She'd been a witness to what had just occurred, so it wasn't a dream or a malady brought about by birth. What the old woman had seen had definitely happened, it wasn't a figment of her imagination, a weary mind brought about by the perils of birth. No, they had stood before a Dragon and lived. And her son. Her dear infant child, was changed by it. "Sijalad!" The old woman knelt down before her, and raised her voice in the ancient worship of Sin. Raco's eyes turned to her son, his lids were closed, the child was fast asleep. She touched his pudgy hand with one finger, prying it open, then she rested her finger within her son's embrace. Abruptly, the baby's fingers curled around her finger, tightening with quite the grip for an infant.
"I will name him Kaza." Raco said. The word meant, To tighten. The child was destined to have a grip on the impossible. As Kaza had proved that night.
"Kaza Sijalad!" The old woman cried out.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Did you enjoy this chapter? Want more? If you're eager to continue the journey and can't wait for the next installment, you can check out my [Patreon](patreon.com/user?u=53923380)
By supporting me there, you not only get early access to more chapters but also exclusive content, behind-the-scenes insights, and much more.
Your support means the world to me and helps me continue writing. Thank you for reading!
2024.06.07 09:44 Historical_Control35 Could this be MALS?
Hi everyone! I’m a 27F who has been dealing with severe intermittent epigastric pain for a year and a half now. The pain starts off pinchy (3/10) and comes in waves until it slowly increases to 10/10, severe, throbbing waves of pain. I eventually end up vomiting like 6-10 times over the course of a couple of hours. The pain is so bad I get sleepy and pass out until I need to vomit again. Magically, the pain and vomiting completely go away on their own. The totality of the pain/vomiting is anywhere from 6-8 hours. I have to say I’m not the best at following through with appointments (I think out of fear of the possible diagnosis) but I have seen GI and my OBGYN. OBGYN thinks it’s mittelschmerz (ovulation pain) but that’s normally lower pelvis, one sided pain. This is smack dab in the middle of my abdomen between my belly button and rib cage. They want me to start birth control with no further work up. GI wanted to do an endoscopy but to me, there’s no point unless I am actively having the flare up.
I am not looking for a diagnosis from here or scolding for not following up with doctors, but more so does this relate to anyone with MALS? Thank you 🙏🏼
submitted by Historical_Control35 to thelifeofMALS [link] [comments]
I am not looking for a diagnosis from here or scolding for not following up with doctors, but more so does this relate to anyone with MALS? Thank you 🙏🏼
2024.06.07 07:54 Mysterious_Cat_1706 Gribble - Chapter 3
[Backstory][Arc 1][[[Next>]]()
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Chapter 3: The Ambition
Bones clacked like gruesome castanets. Fleshless feet tramped flagstones slick with old blood, bits of rotted sinew sloughing off with each jerky step.
Thousands of skeletal soldiers stood in silent ranks, a forest of bleached spines and wind-scoured rib cages. Their empty eye sockets stared ahead, dark and pitiless as the void. Rusted scraps of armor clung to their desiccated frames, pitted swords and notched battle-axes gripped in bony hands.
The air stank of ancient death and the sour tang of dark sorcery, the reek hanging like a miasma over the assembled horde. No breath stirred those hollow chests, no hearts beat within those cage-like ribs - yet still they stood, poised and ready, an army of the restless dead awaiting their master's command with the patience of eternity. In their deathless stillness was a terrible promise of violence to come, a hunger for the wailing of the soon-to-be-slain that transcended mere life or mortality.
They were the War-Dead, Dark Legion, and their hour was fast approaching.
Gribble stalked before his Dark Legion. His eyes swept over the gathered dead. Row upon row of bony figures, some still clad in rusted scraps of armor. Notched blades and spear-hafts clutched in fleshless hands.
Gribble's lips skinned back from his teeth in a savage grin. With the dwarf kingdom he toppled, his legion swelled, Hundreds more added with the fall of the dwarf keep.
Hundreds were not enough. He needed thousands. Tens of thousands. An unending tide of bone and steel to crush all who stood against him.
Gribble's gaze caught on a handful of skeletons standing apart. Thicker-limbed than their fellows. Ropy strands of tendon and muscle still clinging to their frames.
He prowled closer. Something about the dense lattice of their bones. The way the grave-light smoldered in their empty sockets.
These had been strong in life, powerful. The sinew still threading their limbs spoke of their vitality only partially leeched by death.
Gribble ran a black nail along an exposed femur, tracing patterns in the dust and grave-soil. Perhaps a tenth, maybe less, of his legion carried such marks of power.
An elite cadre, standing tall among the fodder. But still too few.
Gribble paced. His mind raced. The dwarf cairns had yielded their treasures of flesh, but such pitiful stock couldn't feed his ambitions. He needed more. More bodies, more bones.
A memory niggled, a scrap map glimpsed in the dwarf king's chamber before blood painted the stone. Parchment dark with age and secrets.
Kingdoms scribed in fading ink. Man, beast, troll, goblin. Their borders drawn in spidery lies. All ripe for harvest, if he had but the scythe.
Gribble's feet beat a path across flagstones as his thoughts whirred. Those foreign lands with their teeming multitudes. Graveyards waiting to birth his soldiers.
But which to reap first? The arid wastes where troll-bones baked beneath ungentle suns? The shadowed bowers of the goblins, choked with leaves and treachery?
Or perhaps...the vaunted halls of men, with their gleaming marble and reeking hypocrisy. So many, men. Living their mayfly lives heedless of the dark. Practically inviting his cleansing fire...
But no. Not men. Not yet. Their time would come, but first an older hate must be quenched.
Cloven hooves and muzzles matted with grave-loam filled Gribble's thoughts. The beastmen. Furred abominations rutting in their filthy sties.
Strong, though. Fearsome. Their warriors' sinews ran red with valor and vigor.
What better fodder for his legion than those battle-hardened physiques? Those snarling muzzles and knotted arms gifted a second-life in his service?
Mind awhirl with visions of beastmen arrayed in ranks of bone and steel, Gribble turned once more to the map seared in memory.
Yes, there...scribed in mocking neatness upon fading parchment. But to reach it...
Gribble scowled, verdant face twisting. The Whispering Woods. That choked tangle of secrets and sorrow standing between him and his quarry.
Other warlords, paltry, mewling creatures, might balk at such a barrier. Turn aside in search of paths less perilous. But not Gribble.
No trees, no matter how old or fey, would deny him his destiny. What were wailing boughs and haunted groves to one such as he? Things to burn and break.
Resolve hardening as his Dark Legion looked on in silent vigil, Gribble schemed.
Magics could be woven, wards erected against the forest's seeping malevolence. Perhaps a levy of goblins, lashed and cowed, could be driven ahead to bear the brunt...
But no...no half-measures would suffice. Not here, not with so much at stake. This war would require a blade of singular sharpness.
He must turn the Whispering Woods' own power against it, suborn its nightshades and moss-choked pools to his will. Fight ancient sorcery with older blasphemies.
Long-moldered tomes and forbidden rituals surfaced from memory, rising through the charnel depths of Gribble's mind.
Lores scribed in blood and bile, etched upon pages of tanned flesh. Secrets pried from the screaming shade-forms of liches and arch-daemons. All could now be turned to his purpose.
Gribble smiled, a death's-head rictus. His skeletal minions shuffled in their ranks, as if tasting his black joy.
Yes...with such nightmares yoked to his banner, what chance did mere trees and flowers have? He would march beneath a canopy of screaming faces and tortured bodies, while unearthly fires licked at his heels.
And when the beastmen saw him come, riding upon a road of wailing wood and roiling shadow...ah, then the yielding of new soldiers would begin.
Gribble pictured the halls of the beastmen choked with harvestable forms. Fallen warriors, rent and tattered, piled high as cordwood for his arts.
Each shattered rib-cage another sword for his ranks. Each cracked skull a sightless new sentry for his battlements of bone.
And how fitting, to flay the skins and work them still bloody into new banners. Gribble's imagination soared, running rich with images of beast-leather fluttering in a fetid wind. The standards of his new army, forged from the flesh of fallen foes.
Why stop at banners? The beastmen's hides could be cured and hammered into armor, their hooves boiled down to make crude glues and ground to powder for alchemical tinctures...
Gribble trembled as dark bliss coursed through his veins like ichor, a pleasure both intellectual and visceral.
Every death would feed his Legion. Every new skeleton would in turn take its own harvest from the living. An unending cycle of slaughter and replenishment.
He saw his horde swelling with each victory, growing from thousands to hundreds of thousands. An endless sea of clattering bone, gleaming steel, and cold black fire.
All would fall before his pitiless onslaught. Beastman, troll, goblin, man. He would tear the flesh from their bones and scour the world clean.
The thrill of this vision coursed through Gribble, bringing with it a clarity colder than midwinter iron.
He knew now, with a certainty that blazed through his sinews, that taking the Beastmen Kingdom was no mere stepping stone to greater conquest.
It was a beginning, yes - the first pebble in an avalanche that would bury all the world beneath clattering bone. But it was also a pivot point, a moment when a petty necromancer playing with dead scraps would be transformed into something far greater.
A Dark King astride a nightmare. The Devouring Shadow. He Who Waits at the End of All.
The annihilation of the beastmen would elevate him from mere warlord to sovereign of death itself. Their still-warm corpses his coronation shroud, their shattered weapons his scepter and sword.
He would wade through their entrails to his final throne upon a mountain of skulls, and he would watch the world perish at his feet.
Gribble bellowed sudden, savage laughter to the vaulted sky, and his minions echoed with their own clacking, sepulchral madness.
The Beastman Kingdom would fall, and in its death throes give agonized birth to a new and terrible epoch.
An age of bone and ashes, with Gribble as its dark sovereign. All would be subsumed into the Eternal Necropolis of his nightmares, with not even distant memory left to whisper of when life and light held fleeting sway.
Only dead stars and withered stone would chronicle the march of his legions. And that, Gribble knew as his laughter twisted into a rictus of unholy joy, was the only legacy of true worth.
What need had an architect of oblivion for gaudy trappings of state? The screams of the dying would be his fanfares and the wails of the bereaved his accolades. All else was meaningless dust.
Drawing in a deep breath through flared nostrils, Gribble savored the iron and rot stink of his horde.
Their fetor was the incense of his ascendance, their blind obedience the only worship he craved. In them was the kernel of his dark design.
He paced once more through their ranks, letting fleshless fingers scrabble at his robes. Bone digits clattered against scavenged armor and notched swords. Silently pleading for the boon of his regard.
With each stride, Gribble felt himself grow in stature. General to King. King to Necromancer. Necromancer to Lich-God. All would fall before his glory, their blood and marrow mere mortar for the Black Cathedral of his reign.
The Whispering Woods with its petty tricks? The beastmen with their musk and primal savagery? Mere chaff before a holocaust.
The forest would blacken and curl into ash at his tread. The beastmen's vaunted strength would wither, their fur slough away to scabrous ruin.
Their souls would serve just as well as their bodies - chained eternally to his legion, serf-shades in his shadow demesne.
Gribble was destruction unchained, death ascendant. A blight upon creation, unfurling like a pustule-soaked banner above all things fair or foul.
All would stumble into his bony embrace in time, eyes clouded by putrefaction. Every grave would yawn wide to be glutted anew at his behest.
The dry ligaments of his own physique trembled exultant at the prospect. The moldering pulp in his skull throbbed with ambition's fever dream.
Soon...soon he would advance. The Whispering Woods were already as good as kindling for his pyres. The beastmen just offal for his abattoir.
Nothing could halt his inexorable tread. He was the Worm that Gnaws in the Night, the Last Sigh of a Dying Star. All would hear his tread and despair.
Gribble quelled the surge of black ecstasy in his desiccated sinews. He would need that fire banked for now, a coldly smoldering ember to stoke his minions to greater slaughter.
There was preparation yet to be done. Rituals to invoke, sacrifices to spill upon the clotted earth. He would need the very winds to scream his exultation and the trees to weep blood at his coming.
One last tour of his assembled forces, then, before he retired to his charnel sanctum.
Surveying his skeletal horde, Gribble nodded in grim satisfaction. They would serve. They would reap.
Those still joined by withered muscle would be his fists, hammering at the gates of the living until they cracked asunder. Those spare and bleached by long inhumation would be his scythes, culling chaff until only a bare stubble remained for the burning.
And he, Gribble, the Horned Necromancer, the Dark King, would be the single will animating that unholy flood. Guiding it over every sill and threshold until nothing remained un-drowned.
He would look upon a world of sepulchers and smile, alone and deathless in the ruin of his own design.
The wailing winds would keen the only threnody fit for his ascendance. The crunch of bone and the slip of worm-riddled flesh the only applause he required.
A universe of graves, a cosmos of rot. That was his only desire, and the beastmen of their paltry kingdom would be the next to feel his liberating caress.
Gribble spat once upon the ground and turned his back on his assembled forces. It was time to retire and prepare himself for the beautiful slaughter to come.
There was a Whispering Wood to blaze, a kingdom to crack asunder, and a black eternity of despair to birth.
Gribble, Lord of the Dark, was now poised to ascend. And all the world would sing a funeral dirge at his coming.
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Chapter 3: The Ambition
Bones clacked like gruesome castanets. Fleshless feet tramped flagstones slick with old blood, bits of rotted sinew sloughing off with each jerky step.
Thousands of skeletal soldiers stood in silent ranks, a forest of bleached spines and wind-scoured rib cages. Their empty eye sockets stared ahead, dark and pitiless as the void. Rusted scraps of armor clung to their desiccated frames, pitted swords and notched battle-axes gripped in bony hands.
The air stank of ancient death and the sour tang of dark sorcery, the reek hanging like a miasma over the assembled horde. No breath stirred those hollow chests, no hearts beat within those cage-like ribs - yet still they stood, poised and ready, an army of the restless dead awaiting their master's command with the patience of eternity. In their deathless stillness was a terrible promise of violence to come, a hunger for the wailing of the soon-to-be-slain that transcended mere life or mortality.
They were the War-Dead, Dark Legion, and their hour was fast approaching.
Gribble stalked before his Dark Legion. His eyes swept over the gathered dead. Row upon row of bony figures, some still clad in rusted scraps of armor. Notched blades and spear-hafts clutched in fleshless hands.
Gribble's lips skinned back from his teeth in a savage grin. With the dwarf kingdom he toppled, his legion swelled, Hundreds more added with the fall of the dwarf keep.
Hundreds were not enough. He needed thousands. Tens of thousands. An unending tide of bone and steel to crush all who stood against him.
Gribble's gaze caught on a handful of skeletons standing apart. Thicker-limbed than their fellows. Ropy strands of tendon and muscle still clinging to their frames.
He prowled closer. Something about the dense lattice of their bones. The way the grave-light smoldered in their empty sockets.
These had been strong in life, powerful. The sinew still threading their limbs spoke of their vitality only partially leeched by death.
Gribble ran a black nail along an exposed femur, tracing patterns in the dust and grave-soil. Perhaps a tenth, maybe less, of his legion carried such marks of power.
An elite cadre, standing tall among the fodder. But still too few.
Gribble paced. His mind raced. The dwarf cairns had yielded their treasures of flesh, but such pitiful stock couldn't feed his ambitions. He needed more. More bodies, more bones.
A memory niggled, a scrap map glimpsed in the dwarf king's chamber before blood painted the stone. Parchment dark with age and secrets.
Kingdoms scribed in fading ink. Man, beast, troll, goblin. Their borders drawn in spidery lies. All ripe for harvest, if he had but the scythe.
Gribble's feet beat a path across flagstones as his thoughts whirred. Those foreign lands with their teeming multitudes. Graveyards waiting to birth his soldiers.
But which to reap first? The arid wastes where troll-bones baked beneath ungentle suns? The shadowed bowers of the goblins, choked with leaves and treachery?
Or perhaps...the vaunted halls of men, with their gleaming marble and reeking hypocrisy. So many, men. Living their mayfly lives heedless of the dark. Practically inviting his cleansing fire...
But no. Not men. Not yet. Their time would come, but first an older hate must be quenched.
Cloven hooves and muzzles matted with grave-loam filled Gribble's thoughts. The beastmen. Furred abominations rutting in their filthy sties.
Strong, though. Fearsome. Their warriors' sinews ran red with valor and vigor.
What better fodder for his legion than those battle-hardened physiques? Those snarling muzzles and knotted arms gifted a second-life in his service?
Mind awhirl with visions of beastmen arrayed in ranks of bone and steel, Gribble turned once more to the map seared in memory.
Yes, there...scribed in mocking neatness upon fading parchment. But to reach it...
Gribble scowled, verdant face twisting. The Whispering Woods. That choked tangle of secrets and sorrow standing between him and his quarry.
Other warlords, paltry, mewling creatures, might balk at such a barrier. Turn aside in search of paths less perilous. But not Gribble.
No trees, no matter how old or fey, would deny him his destiny. What were wailing boughs and haunted groves to one such as he? Things to burn and break.
Resolve hardening as his Dark Legion looked on in silent vigil, Gribble schemed.
Magics could be woven, wards erected against the forest's seeping malevolence. Perhaps a levy of goblins, lashed and cowed, could be driven ahead to bear the brunt...
But no...no half-measures would suffice. Not here, not with so much at stake. This war would require a blade of singular sharpness.
He must turn the Whispering Woods' own power against it, suborn its nightshades and moss-choked pools to his will. Fight ancient sorcery with older blasphemies.
Long-moldered tomes and forbidden rituals surfaced from memory, rising through the charnel depths of Gribble's mind.
Lores scribed in blood and bile, etched upon pages of tanned flesh. Secrets pried from the screaming shade-forms of liches and arch-daemons. All could now be turned to his purpose.
Gribble smiled, a death's-head rictus. His skeletal minions shuffled in their ranks, as if tasting his black joy.
Yes...with such nightmares yoked to his banner, what chance did mere trees and flowers have? He would march beneath a canopy of screaming faces and tortured bodies, while unearthly fires licked at his heels.
And when the beastmen saw him come, riding upon a road of wailing wood and roiling shadow...ah, then the yielding of new soldiers would begin.
Gribble pictured the halls of the beastmen choked with harvestable forms. Fallen warriors, rent and tattered, piled high as cordwood for his arts.
Each shattered rib-cage another sword for his ranks. Each cracked skull a sightless new sentry for his battlements of bone.
And how fitting, to flay the skins and work them still bloody into new banners. Gribble's imagination soared, running rich with images of beast-leather fluttering in a fetid wind. The standards of his new army, forged from the flesh of fallen foes.
Why stop at banners? The beastmen's hides could be cured and hammered into armor, their hooves boiled down to make crude glues and ground to powder for alchemical tinctures...
Gribble trembled as dark bliss coursed through his veins like ichor, a pleasure both intellectual and visceral.
Every death would feed his Legion. Every new skeleton would in turn take its own harvest from the living. An unending cycle of slaughter and replenishment.
He saw his horde swelling with each victory, growing from thousands to hundreds of thousands. An endless sea of clattering bone, gleaming steel, and cold black fire.
All would fall before his pitiless onslaught. Beastman, troll, goblin, man. He would tear the flesh from their bones and scour the world clean.
The thrill of this vision coursed through Gribble, bringing with it a clarity colder than midwinter iron.
He knew now, with a certainty that blazed through his sinews, that taking the Beastmen Kingdom was no mere stepping stone to greater conquest.
It was a beginning, yes - the first pebble in an avalanche that would bury all the world beneath clattering bone. But it was also a pivot point, a moment when a petty necromancer playing with dead scraps would be transformed into something far greater.
A Dark King astride a nightmare. The Devouring Shadow. He Who Waits at the End of All.
The annihilation of the beastmen would elevate him from mere warlord to sovereign of death itself. Their still-warm corpses his coronation shroud, their shattered weapons his scepter and sword.
He would wade through their entrails to his final throne upon a mountain of skulls, and he would watch the world perish at his feet.
Gribble bellowed sudden, savage laughter to the vaulted sky, and his minions echoed with their own clacking, sepulchral madness.
The Beastman Kingdom would fall, and in its death throes give agonized birth to a new and terrible epoch.
An age of bone and ashes, with Gribble as its dark sovereign. All would be subsumed into the Eternal Necropolis of his nightmares, with not even distant memory left to whisper of when life and light held fleeting sway.
Only dead stars and withered stone would chronicle the march of his legions. And that, Gribble knew as his laughter twisted into a rictus of unholy joy, was the only legacy of true worth.
What need had an architect of oblivion for gaudy trappings of state? The screams of the dying would be his fanfares and the wails of the bereaved his accolades. All else was meaningless dust.
Drawing in a deep breath through flared nostrils, Gribble savored the iron and rot stink of his horde.
Their fetor was the incense of his ascendance, their blind obedience the only worship he craved. In them was the kernel of his dark design.
He paced once more through their ranks, letting fleshless fingers scrabble at his robes. Bone digits clattered against scavenged armor and notched swords. Silently pleading for the boon of his regard.
With each stride, Gribble felt himself grow in stature. General to King. King to Necromancer. Necromancer to Lich-God. All would fall before his glory, their blood and marrow mere mortar for the Black Cathedral of his reign.
The Whispering Woods with its petty tricks? The beastmen with their musk and primal savagery? Mere chaff before a holocaust.
The forest would blacken and curl into ash at his tread. The beastmen's vaunted strength would wither, their fur slough away to scabrous ruin.
Their souls would serve just as well as their bodies - chained eternally to his legion, serf-shades in his shadow demesne.
Gribble was destruction unchained, death ascendant. A blight upon creation, unfurling like a pustule-soaked banner above all things fair or foul.
All would stumble into his bony embrace in time, eyes clouded by putrefaction. Every grave would yawn wide to be glutted anew at his behest.
The dry ligaments of his own physique trembled exultant at the prospect. The moldering pulp in his skull throbbed with ambition's fever dream.
Soon...soon he would advance. The Whispering Woods were already as good as kindling for his pyres. The beastmen just offal for his abattoir.
Nothing could halt his inexorable tread. He was the Worm that Gnaws in the Night, the Last Sigh of a Dying Star. All would hear his tread and despair.
Gribble quelled the surge of black ecstasy in his desiccated sinews. He would need that fire banked for now, a coldly smoldering ember to stoke his minions to greater slaughter.
There was preparation yet to be done. Rituals to invoke, sacrifices to spill upon the clotted earth. He would need the very winds to scream his exultation and the trees to weep blood at his coming.
One last tour of his assembled forces, then, before he retired to his charnel sanctum.
Surveying his skeletal horde, Gribble nodded in grim satisfaction. They would serve. They would reap.
Those still joined by withered muscle would be his fists, hammering at the gates of the living until they cracked asunder. Those spare and bleached by long inhumation would be his scythes, culling chaff until only a bare stubble remained for the burning.
And he, Gribble, the Horned Necromancer, the Dark King, would be the single will animating that unholy flood. Guiding it over every sill and threshold until nothing remained un-drowned.
He would look upon a world of sepulchers and smile, alone and deathless in the ruin of his own design.
The wailing winds would keen the only threnody fit for his ascendance. The crunch of bone and the slip of worm-riddled flesh the only applause he required.
A universe of graves, a cosmos of rot. That was his only desire, and the beastmen of their paltry kingdom would be the next to feel his liberating caress.
Gribble spat once upon the ground and turned his back on his assembled forces. It was time to retire and prepare himself for the beautiful slaughter to come.
There was a Whispering Wood to blaze, a kingdom to crack asunder, and a black eternity of despair to birth.
Gribble, Lord of the Dark, was now poised to ascend. And all the world would sing a funeral dirge at his coming.
2024.06.07 06:15 TheOneTrueAnimeGod Sionia Chapter 18
Sionia
Chapter 18
Map First Previous
A crashing boom woke me from my sleep as I quickly raised up. Suddenly, the carriage door opened where I grabbed my weapons belt and put my hand on my sig.
“Wait for meow!” Called Meowth as she climbed into the carriage followed by Razor who each sat on oppose sides of the carriage.
“It is about to rain and pitch stones and we will not be pelted by them.” Said Razor as I looked at his glowing eyes in the darkness.
“I see. What of the wolf kin brothers?” I asked.
“They are standing under the platform in the corner behind the planks they set up.” Razor replied.
The flash of lightening and another crashing boom reverberated overhead. I could hear the girls in the other carriage scream. Suddenly, hails stones started to strike the carriage roof. I quickly sat up and closed the open windows just as the rain picked up. Another crashing boom and I heard Meowth give out a tiny mew as I could tell she was afraid. Looking over at Razor, his eyes were round saucers as he too was showing a bit of fear. Laying back down, Pamba crawled back under the covers and snugged against my side.
Later, I heard the carriage door open and felt Razor and Meowth step out. Yawning, I raised up and pulled the curtain back. The ground was full of muddy puddles. Looking up at the sky, it was overcast but the rain had moved on as it was now just past dawn. Opening the windows, I breathed in the fresh morning air and the scent of wet wheat that is similar to fresh cut grass but an earthy sweetness to it. Sitting up fully, I open the curtain wider to let in more light.
About thirty minutes later, Tiana came and was pointing at something. I then saw Lukas with a plank and setting it down in front next to the bronze bowl that led toward my carriage. Lukas began adjusting the walled off curtains with Wynna and Alice. Tiana waved and motioned to another where I saw Stefan my other footman bring a stack of dry wood where he began the process of starting a fire. I reached over and pulled out the book of animals and began reading to pass the time.
About twenty minutes later, I felt the carriage lean heavily and heard Razor up on the roof. Looking out the window, I saw Meowth climb up on the the second carriage where she was using some straw to dry the roof before she stretched and laid down.
A while later, I saw Tiana pouring hot water into the bronze bowl. I closed my book and put on my slippers. Opening the carriage door, I was immediately met by Rana.
“Good morrow, Lord Wyatt.” Said Rana with a salute and short bow.
“Good morrow, Rana. You also Tiana.” I replied with a nod of my head.
“Good morrow, Lord Wyatt. Lukas is cleaning the shaving razor and will be here presently.” Tiana said with a salute and bow.
“Very good.” I said and looked over to the girls carriage where Flora was the first to exit.
I went into my closed off section where Gus was waiting where he and Tiana began undressing me. Tiana washed me and when finished, Lukas shaved me. Looking over was Rana holding my green outfit, my underwear and socks. After Tiana applied the scented oil, I pulled my pants on, Old Maude came and rubbed the salve on my wound and removed the stitches from my wounds on my back.
“You have healed very well. The scar is hardly noticeable except here where the bone protrudes.” Old Maude commented as I felt her tap on my left shoulder blade.
“That is good and I am glad.” I answered with a smile.
With my dressing complete and wearing my boots, I walked to check on the wounded. I found them all still asleep. Rowland and Johannas were sleeping in the feed storage building with Moe.
With nothing going on, I walked over to my cook Kanade and grabbed a slice of fresh baked bread where I spread a bit of jam on it. I then climbed up onto the wall to look out across the countryside and just enjoy the scenery.
About an hour later, I saw Nick riding hard out of the east and down a small trek of a road before tuning south toward the outpost. I immediately, climbed down and went to the main entrance that was swung open by Carson alerted by Arnold who had the northern side watch.
“Lord Wyatt! An Empire force of about two thousand is about four leagues off to the east where they currently are camped. I saw that they have florse riders. I did not get a close look as I did not want to alert them.” Nick exclaimed in his excited state.
“I see. Lars! House of Wyatt! Ready yourselves. We move out in less than a span!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.
At my command everyone was running to pack things up. Big Jake was halfway making the morning meal as I passed. Thinking for a moment. I make a decision.
“Big Jake, Kanade. Finish up the morning meal quickly and let everyone eat. It may be a while before we stop to eat again. Have one of the stable boys help with clean up. Oh, make some broth for Moe and Reagan who I do not think can eat solid food yet. Just give it to the apprentice doctor Johannas.” I ordered looking up at the gentle giant of a man.
“Yes, Lord Wyatt.” Answered Big Jake with a salute and a bow copied by Kanade.
Back at the carriage, I folded up the chairs and stowed them in the back bench storage area. I then handed the folded up table to Lukas where he carried it to my cart where I locked it up in the crate with the camping gear.
Gus brought me a plate of toast, bacon and something similar to cream of wheat sweetened with simple syrup flavored with large cherries. I ordered everyone to eat something quickly and not take long. I ate my meal quickly as there was much to do. After I ate, I pulled out my chain mail and padded linen setting them on the front bench ready for me to put on in flash should the need arise. I also spent time checking my weapons and insuring that all were loaded including the magazines.
About an hour later, Lars ordered the florses hitched to the wagons and carriages. Almost two hours after Nick rode in with the news, our party was heading out of the outpost north up the Avalon Elysium road back to the Lanyon crossroad. Looking at my detail map of Astria, The crossroad to the east went straight to the Black Gate of Rowan. I realized that the Empire's army was moving toward Lanyon. How fast? That was the million dollar question!
“Rider approaching!” Came the repeated call of the guards.
The rider was Ivor and he came up to my carriage where Lars was.
“Empire force a little over two thousand is camped on the road off to the east. They do not appear to be in any hurry to move out as the road is muddy. I expect them to reach Lanyon cross in about seven to eight spans if they begin now. If they send their florse riders ahead, then they will be here in about four spans.” Ivor reported what he had seen.
“Lord Wyatt, if we push the florses to walk trot and rest them a bit after a league, we can be in Lanyon in just under eight spans. We can then alert the Baron of Lanyon and send a floxis message to inform the capital and the First Order of Knights.” Lars proposed with a salute and fist double chest bump.
“How far from Lanyon to Brea?” I asked openly.
“It is about seven leagues.” Zack answered confidently.
“Can we push hard to reach Brea in a day from Lanyon?” I asked as I consulted the map as I understood a league is about five miles.
“It is possible. However, the florses will be done. They will not be able to push the last thirty three milo from Brea to Camelot. I feel it would not be wise to push the florses that hard. I would suggest we rest on the far side of Lanyon and camp for the night. We can then push on to Brea as that is a good two day travel. Once in Brea, we can find out how far behind the Empire's army is. If necessary, we can then push hard to reach the capital as it will not matter if the florses are exhausted at that point.” Zack advised with a salute.
“I see. Very well. Lars, lets get to Lanyon quickly the way we did after we left Avalon. Rest the florses as suggested.” I stated my decision with a nod.
“As you command, Lord Wyatt.” Lars replied with a salute with a fist double chest bump.
“Ivor, ride back and see if the Empire is on the move. If not, remain watchful until it does. Then come and let us know how fast they are moving. Is it a slow march or a fast one.” I ordered Ivor with a nod of my head.
“I hear and obey, Lord Wyatt.” Ivor stated with a salute and fist double chest bump.
Ivor saddled another florse and galloped down the east road toward Rowan. Our group turned westward toward old Fort Lanyon crossroad. Lars had the florses walk for a little span or fifteen minutes then trot for a little span. This continued until we had completed a league or about five miles. Here we rested the florses for a half span approximately thirty minutes where they gave them a short drink of water. Those foaming were changed out for fresh florses.
Just over seven hours after leaving the outpost, we entered into the town of Lanyon. It was a town of about five to seven thousand people. It was an agricultural town with a merchant store, a shoemaker, a blacksmith and two taverns. The Baron of Lanyon lived in a small two story manor. However, no one was there. The footman stated the steward was out visiting a few farms to review the crops and get a count on newly born calves and lambs.
Zack with Nick and Big Jake went to the merchant storefront and had them send a floxis message to the capital about the Empire army approaching. This news sent the small town into a panic. There was nothing we could do to put the people at ease. However, it was best that we move on down the road a few milos. I also had Nick buy some bacon and eggs that Big Jake would get with the money he had left over.
Continuing on, we stopped with the city of Lanyon barely in sight and pulled off the road a good distance along a small creek with a wooded area. Once everyone began exiting, the shouts of Moe could be clearly heard where I quickly went to check with the doctors.
“Relax, Relax. It is alright.” Johannas said as he was holding down Moe who continued to moan and cry out.
“Lord Wyatt, Moe did not travel well but the mattress helped.” Said Rowland who began crawling into the cart.
“He is in a lot of pain. The motion over the last hour just became unbearable for him.” Johannas commented as he looked at Rowland.
“We need to make a weak pain drought and just get him completely soused.” Johannas stated as he basically was now sitting on Moe to keep him under control.
“I already have some made up and Lord Wyatt bought some really strong umber spirytus.” Rowland replied jumping out of the cart.
“Do you need anything?” I asked Rowland when he looked at me.
“No, Lord Wyatt. Once he has about four good cups, Moe will quiet down and he will not feel much pain.” Rowland said with a salute and quickly ran to the other cart.
Walking over to the other cart, I planned on speaking with Sir Jas. Rowland ran past nodding as his arms were full to deliver the pain medicine and start the process of getting Moe inebriated. At the cart, I saw Sir Jas sitting up with a strain on his face.
“Sorry for the rough ride.” I apologized with a nod of my head.
“Do not be. You were wise to put distance from the Empire's forces. Just too many for you to fight with the few men you have. However, I do not doubt you could have eliminated half their number with your Atlantean weapons.” Sir Jas replied as he obviously was trying not to show how much in pain he was in.
“Thank you, Sir Jas. Most kind. Perhaps, you would like to join me for the evening meal. Give you a chance to get some fresh air and have some company.” I asked for I wanted to speak with Sir Jas concerning military matters.
“Yes, I am most honored.” Sir Jas answered with a smile and a salute.
“Lucky.” Reagan said but he too was also looking as though he was in a lot of pain as well.
“You know full well you are eating mush foods and drinking broths. It would be wrong to tempt you with what we may have.” I replied to Reagan shaking my head.
“I know. What I would not give for a nice thick boar steak!” Reagan said with a grunt.
“I promise to treat you to boar steaks when you are well enough to enjoy it.” I promised with a little laugh.
“Sounds good.” Reagan said with a brief half wave salute as Reagan grunted in pain and holding his belly with his eyes closed tightly.
“I will see you in a bit, Sir Jas.” I said with a nod and walked back toward my carriage.
The privacy screen had been set up by Lukas, Stefan and Alice with Gus arranging my little section in one corner. Tiana was setting up the bronze bowl while Rana was watching the construction of a new fire pit nearby. I took out the nylon camping chairs and sat down in one. Pamba having finished her constitutional jumped up into my lap and rolled over onto her back. I then rubbed her belly where she literally giggled and was kicking her rear paws in pure delight.
About forty five minutes later, Tiana with Gus came walking up.
“Would you like to wash up, Lord Wyatt?” Asked Tiana with a salute as her ears were drooped down halfway.
That would be lovely.” I replied.
I was then led to my little section where I was undressed. Rana came with my blue outfit that in all honesty did not fit that well but it would serve. After Tiana applied the scented oil, Old Maude came to apply the salve and put a new dressing on my wound.
“Tiana, you look very tired. Please get some rest. It will not do if you become sick.” I said with concern.
“Thank you, Lord Wyatt. I am really OK. Just not used to hard travel.” Tiana replied with a brief smile.
“You should turn in after you eat. Do not object. You need the rest. That goes for everyone here!” I insisted with a nod.
After Old Maude finished up, Gus helped me finish dressing and Stefan put on my slippers. Rana walked around me shaking her head then promised to make the clothes fit me better in the future.
Walking over my two folding chairs, Sir Jas was sitting in one with his leg stretched out. I sat down next to him. Looking over, I called to Rolf who was standing nearby to have a couple of logs set up around my fire as I expected others to join me.
Illya and Rina came a short time later and gave a short curtsy and bow before sitting down off to my far right. Charlie came running where he gave me a formal bow.
“Good evening, Count Wyatt.” Said Charlie giving my formal title.
“Good evening, Charlie. Perhaps after you see the king, I can call you Count Appleton once your title has been officially transferred to you.
“I hope so. I must avenge my father.” Said Charlie with a sour look.
“Look at me Charlie! Those who walk the path of revenge find only misery, destruction and disappointment. Revenge never ends how you think it should and only brings more sorrow. What you should focus on is justice! Justice not revenge. Do you understand the difference?” I asked the poignant question after my admonishment.
“I think so.” Replied Charlie with his head downcast.
“Good. You should talk and ask others the best way to seek justice. You do not want to go down an evil path that you will regret for the rest of your life. Now, lift your head. All is good between us.” I said with a smile.
Charlie looked up at me and smiled before running and hugging Prima and Freya who had watched the exchange. Freya sat to my left on a raised log that had a flattened section. Prima and Charlie sat on another log further to my left.
Kanade came with four porcelain cups of wine which she gave to Sir Jas, Freya, Prima and myself. Returning a short time later, she brought cups for everyone else. When everyone had a cup of wine except Charlie who was given apple cider. Sir Jas gave a toast.
“To good company and friendship.” Sir Jas said with cup raised.
“Good company and friendship.” Replied everyone else including me with cups raised.
“It is good to see everyone this evening. I am glad to have those I trust around me.” I said with a smile.
“Yes, I feel the same.” Freya said with a smile as she reached out and touched my left forearm.
“Yes.” Agreed everyone except Charlie who was looking around wide eyed with a questioning look as he did not understand the situation.
“Sir Jas. You have heard the news. What can I expect over the next several days given the Empire of Mardor has invaded deeply into Astria?” I asked Sir Jas for I needed advise as I was in over my head.
“Our king has raised the banner. The levy army will assemble and march push the invaders out. How long this war will last? I do not know. When the Empire invaded the High Valleys, it was more to attack the dwarves of the Iron and Grey Mountains. The Empire and all dwarves have a special hatred for one another. I do not think the Empire wants to go to war with any of the Elf Kingdoms.” Answered Sir Jas said as he looked off into the campfire.
“I see. What does the Empire hope to gain? I do not see a long term benefit to the invasion into central Astria. High Valley's. Yes, Empire most likely thought they could gain and hold that territory. But, to see them invade deep into Astria, I do not understand. What is their overarching goal?” I stated my biggest questions.
“The Empire believes that they can rule the world. They destroyed the Kingdom of Wress to gain the lands of Mag Mell. Their goal is simply rule the world. If they can take and hold any land, they see it as a victory. They are just a greedy evil people ruled by a mad man who will use anything and everything to achieve the goal of world domination. Emperor Morrighan is delusional and his demented authoritarian ways make it impossible for anyone to go against him. Those that speak against the Emperor are either imprisoned, tortured or killed for his enjoyment. Captives of the empire are tortured and some are killed as sport. Those that survive are made slaves which are forcefully bred to create their next generation of armies.” Sir Jas replied with disgust on his face.
“I see. So, the war will continue until either side wins or a peace is made. I feel that total victory is not possible over the Empire. What do you think?” I questioned that continued my thoughts and confirmations.
“You are correct. Empire is a military society with an emperor who rules supreme. Some say his control is backed by a demon who insures no one can usurp the throne. I do not know if this is true or not but that is the rumor. The best outcome for Astria is to drive them out of our lands. If we invade them, it could bring all their forces against us. I feel this invasion is the Empire's reaction to our lack of punitive reaction to the High Valley invasion. They are just seeing if Astria is strong enough to oppose them. If we do not punish them severely, this war could drag on for cycles possibly generations.” Sir Jas answered with a shake of his head.
“Then, lets hope that the levy army obliterates them quickly! To the destruction of the Empire's forces.” I said and raised my cup in a toast.
“To the destruction of the Empire's forces.” Everyone replied including Charlie this time.
The meal was trencher style of meat cubes with potatoes, peas and carrots in a thick sauce that was very tasty. After the meal, I asked that everyone get some rest as it would be a long day and we may need to travel hard if the Empire's forces were close. After all, they could travel at night to arrive by dawn.
The night passed without any trouble or anything of note. The sky was cloudy off to the east but clear off to the west. Just as the cooking fires were going, sound of alarm rang out.
“Alarm, Alarm! Lars! Armed soldiers to the south!” Called one of the guards on watch.
I immediately pulled on my bluejeans and a t shirt. I opened the curtain to the carriage where Razor had leapt off and was standing a few feet away with Meowth in quiet discussion. I opened the door to the carriage and began pulling on my boots as Lars came running up.
“It looks like the First order of Knights and part of the levy army moving up the Kings Highway.” Lars reported with a salute and fist double chest bump.
“That is good news.” I replied as I gave a salute and a nod to Lars.
About an hour later, the army stopped and allowed their men a rest as several riders came to our encampment. Stepping forward, I stood looking up at a man that seemed familiar to me but I knew I had not met him before. The imposing man with very broad shoulders dismounted with his yellow and white feathered capped knights behind him. I remembered that Sir Jas had a yellow feather and the other captain also had a white feather. I then noticed the gold ring on this man who looked at me with piercing eyes. The gold ringed man was in well polished dark purple colored armor. I noted the sigil crest of a double diamond where one was red and the other white both framed in gold on his shield and the on the flag the standard bearer was holding.
“I am Margrave Zoran Zolik Commander of the First Order of Knights. Given the description my brother gave, you must be Count Ryan Wyatt.” Stated Margrave Zolik with a salute and no expression at all.
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Count Ryan Wyatt.” I introduced myself with a salute and I frowned a bit as I was not sure of proper etiquette in this situation.
“Forgive me. Count Wyatt. I was not sure of your rank and identity.” Margrave Zolik apologized and made another salute followed by a formal bow.
“No problem. I understand and given the circumstances.” I replied with a return salute and a full nod of my head.
“I received your floxis in Brea concerning the Empire's forces. I also understand you already fought a battle against the Empire's monsters. Is that true?” Asked Margrave Zolik.
“Yes. The battle was three days ago. My scouts found the Empire's forces yesterday morning. We pushed hard from the outpost near Lanyon Cross on the Avalon Elysium road.” I replied and shook my head in remembering that ordeal.
“How large was the monster force you faced?” Asked Margrave Zolik as he frowned with concern.
“About a hundred thirty goblins, five hobgoblins, one ogre, three war orcs carrying red slimes and a salamander commanded by a Mardor slaver. There were also about fifty Empire florse archers with them.” I answered with a slight shrug.
“How many did you lose?” Margrave Zolik asked as he seemed shocked.
“Two house servants caught by arrows over the outpost wall by the florse archers. I lost none of my guards but two were severely injured.” I said matter of factually looking the Margrave in the eye.
“Seriously! You defeated them with no loss to your fighting men! That is incredible!” Exclaimed Margrave Zolik in total shock.
“Well, it is not what your are thinking. I set up an ambush at the outpost using caltrops. It forced the monsters into a kill zone where they could not rush us in a mass wave. Our archers picked off the enemy without having to concern themselves with close combat. By the time close combat happened, their numbers had been reduced enough that the battle was manageable.” I replied to the stunned looks of the Margrave and his men.
“That is unbelievable. What are caltrops? I have never heard that word before.” Asked Margrave Zolik.
“Lars, retrieve one of the caltrops from the baggage cart and give it to the Margrave.” I ordered with a wave of my hand to the cart.
After a couple minutes, Lars handed Margrave Zolik a caltrop.
“Keep that as reference. It works against monsters as they are barefoot as a defensive barrier. These wooden types do not work very well against florses or men with proper shoes. If you have metal ones, it would devastate their florses and provide problems for any infantry.” I explained as Margrave Zolik handed it off to his yellow feathered subordinate.
“Sir Samuel, have the men riding make these as we travel. I have the feeling it will be something we can use.” Margrave Zolik stated to his captain.
“Yes. Lord Zolik” Replied Sir Samuel who handed it to a white feathered man behind him.
“Count Wyatt. The king has sent transports to Brea for you. Take the left fork past the city gate as it will take you down to the river docks. There, they will load up your carriages and carts and stow your florses. You can float down the Cyan River and arrive in Camelot by the morning. The king is very anxious to meet you. Seems that several ambassadors have been singing your praise. Amazingly, an Atlantean ambassador has also arrived demanding to see and speak with you. Your star is on the rise and with each passing day your fame grows.” Margrave Zolik stated with a laugh.
“I see. I was not aware that any knew of me.” I stated but knew that Princess Astrid and Sam stated that they would spread the word about my deeds.
“You had to know the high elves would send out word. Especially, given well. Never mind. Safe to say you should have known.” Said Margrave Zolik with a deep laugh.
“Yes, I kind of suspected. However, until it happens, you never know.” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.
“Fair enough.” Said Margrave Zolik looking at me seriously.
“Rider approaching from the North!” Shouted Nick and came running up to our group.
“Ivor is approaching at hard gallop.” Reported Nick with a salute and fist double chest bump.
“Very good. Make sure to have a new florse ready and saddle it for him when he arrives.” I ordered with a salute and nod of my head.
Turning to Margrave Zolik I said, “I had one of my scouts stay with the Empire's forces to let me know when they started to move out from their campsite and how fast they are marching.” I said in seriousness.
“That is valuable information.” Margrave Zolik said impressed.
A few minutes later, Ivor rode into camp and made his report.
“The Empire rested most of yesterday as I suspect they did not want to march through mud. When they reached Lanyon Cross they turned south toward Elysium. They stopped at the outpost and seemed to be alerted when they found some of the burned bodies of the goblins. They have now camped in the outpost and seem to be setting up to defend it.” Reported Ivor with a salute and fist double chest bump.
“Well done. Get something to eat and a bit or rest. We will move out in two or so spans.” I told Ivor with a fist double chest bump in return.
“You are one of Duke Boasag's men.” Stated Margrave Zolik as he seemed to recognize Ivor.
“No, Lord Zolik. I am a house guard to Count Wyatt. I used to be with Duke Boasag. Now, I serve Count Wyatt who is a noble above nobles. It is an honor and privilege to be in service to Count Wyatt. I would go so far to say service is like brotherhood and family under House of Wyatt.” Responded Ivor with a salute and bow before walking off toward the cooking fires and where Big Jake stood out.
“You have a loyal man.” Said Margrave Zolik.
“Margrave Zolik, I would consider it an honor and privilege to be allowed to serve House of Wyatt. All of Lord Wyatt's people are extremely loyal. All would fight to the death to protect him and all want to see him succeed.” Sir Jas declared as he hobbled up with the help of Tobin.
“Sir Jas. I had heard you were wounded. My brother opines that his workload is doubled with your absence.” Margrave Zolik said taking note of Sir Jas.
“I will be requesting transfer to House of Wyatt when I speak to Duke Avondale. Lord Wyatt's bravery, manner and philosophy are such that few nobles can attain. His care and concern for his people is like a father looking after his children. Who would not want to serve under a lord like that?” Sir Jas announced with a salute and bow.
“Your words have been noted. I wonder what my brother Sargos will say when he hears about this.” Said Margrave Zolik with a frown and shaking of his head.
“Be warned, there may be caltrops to the north up on both sides of the Avalon road as you approach the outpost. They are also along the east side of the outpost. I do not know how many are out there as the monsters soaked up a good number to the north of the outpost. The ones to the east were untouched and will be a hindrance so be careful. If the Empire has moved on, you can retrieve them and have a good number already made.” I advised with a serious warning.
“Thank you, Lord Wyatt. We will see you in Camelot within a month or I will be dead.” Said Margrave Zolik as he mounted his florse and began leading the First Order of Knights with his part of the levy army down the road.
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Chapter 18
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A crashing boom woke me from my sleep as I quickly raised up. Suddenly, the carriage door opened where I grabbed my weapons belt and put my hand on my sig.
“Wait for meow!” Called Meowth as she climbed into the carriage followed by Razor who each sat on oppose sides of the carriage.
“It is about to rain and pitch stones and we will not be pelted by them.” Said Razor as I looked at his glowing eyes in the darkness.
“I see. What of the wolf kin brothers?” I asked.
“They are standing under the platform in the corner behind the planks they set up.” Razor replied.
The flash of lightening and another crashing boom reverberated overhead. I could hear the girls in the other carriage scream. Suddenly, hails stones started to strike the carriage roof. I quickly sat up and closed the open windows just as the rain picked up. Another crashing boom and I heard Meowth give out a tiny mew as I could tell she was afraid. Looking over at Razor, his eyes were round saucers as he too was showing a bit of fear. Laying back down, Pamba crawled back under the covers and snugged against my side.
Later, I heard the carriage door open and felt Razor and Meowth step out. Yawning, I raised up and pulled the curtain back. The ground was full of muddy puddles. Looking up at the sky, it was overcast but the rain had moved on as it was now just past dawn. Opening the windows, I breathed in the fresh morning air and the scent of wet wheat that is similar to fresh cut grass but an earthy sweetness to it. Sitting up fully, I open the curtain wider to let in more light.
About thirty minutes later, Tiana came and was pointing at something. I then saw Lukas with a plank and setting it down in front next to the bronze bowl that led toward my carriage. Lukas began adjusting the walled off curtains with Wynna and Alice. Tiana waved and motioned to another where I saw Stefan my other footman bring a stack of dry wood where he began the process of starting a fire. I reached over and pulled out the book of animals and began reading to pass the time.
About twenty minutes later, I felt the carriage lean heavily and heard Razor up on the roof. Looking out the window, I saw Meowth climb up on the the second carriage where she was using some straw to dry the roof before she stretched and laid down.
A while later, I saw Tiana pouring hot water into the bronze bowl. I closed my book and put on my slippers. Opening the carriage door, I was immediately met by Rana.
“Good morrow, Lord Wyatt.” Said Rana with a salute and short bow.
“Good morrow, Rana. You also Tiana.” I replied with a nod of my head.
“Good morrow, Lord Wyatt. Lukas is cleaning the shaving razor and will be here presently.” Tiana said with a salute and bow.
“Very good.” I said and looked over to the girls carriage where Flora was the first to exit.
I went into my closed off section where Gus was waiting where he and Tiana began undressing me. Tiana washed me and when finished, Lukas shaved me. Looking over was Rana holding my green outfit, my underwear and socks. After Tiana applied the scented oil, I pulled my pants on, Old Maude came and rubbed the salve on my wound and removed the stitches from my wounds on my back.
“You have healed very well. The scar is hardly noticeable except here where the bone protrudes.” Old Maude commented as I felt her tap on my left shoulder blade.
“That is good and I am glad.” I answered with a smile.
With my dressing complete and wearing my boots, I walked to check on the wounded. I found them all still asleep. Rowland and Johannas were sleeping in the feed storage building with Moe.
With nothing going on, I walked over to my cook Kanade and grabbed a slice of fresh baked bread where I spread a bit of jam on it. I then climbed up onto the wall to look out across the countryside and just enjoy the scenery.
About an hour later, I saw Nick riding hard out of the east and down a small trek of a road before tuning south toward the outpost. I immediately, climbed down and went to the main entrance that was swung open by Carson alerted by Arnold who had the northern side watch.
“Lord Wyatt! An Empire force of about two thousand is about four leagues off to the east where they currently are camped. I saw that they have florse riders. I did not get a close look as I did not want to alert them.” Nick exclaimed in his excited state.
“I see. Lars! House of Wyatt! Ready yourselves. We move out in less than a span!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.
At my command everyone was running to pack things up. Big Jake was halfway making the morning meal as I passed. Thinking for a moment. I make a decision.
“Big Jake, Kanade. Finish up the morning meal quickly and let everyone eat. It may be a while before we stop to eat again. Have one of the stable boys help with clean up. Oh, make some broth for Moe and Reagan who I do not think can eat solid food yet. Just give it to the apprentice doctor Johannas.” I ordered looking up at the gentle giant of a man.
“Yes, Lord Wyatt.” Answered Big Jake with a salute and a bow copied by Kanade.
Back at the carriage, I folded up the chairs and stowed them in the back bench storage area. I then handed the folded up table to Lukas where he carried it to my cart where I locked it up in the crate with the camping gear.
Gus brought me a plate of toast, bacon and something similar to cream of wheat sweetened with simple syrup flavored with large cherries. I ordered everyone to eat something quickly and not take long. I ate my meal quickly as there was much to do. After I ate, I pulled out my chain mail and padded linen setting them on the front bench ready for me to put on in flash should the need arise. I also spent time checking my weapons and insuring that all were loaded including the magazines.
About an hour later, Lars ordered the florses hitched to the wagons and carriages. Almost two hours after Nick rode in with the news, our party was heading out of the outpost north up the Avalon Elysium road back to the Lanyon crossroad. Looking at my detail map of Astria, The crossroad to the east went straight to the Black Gate of Rowan. I realized that the Empire's army was moving toward Lanyon. How fast? That was the million dollar question!
“Rider approaching!” Came the repeated call of the guards.
The rider was Ivor and he came up to my carriage where Lars was.
“Empire force a little over two thousand is camped on the road off to the east. They do not appear to be in any hurry to move out as the road is muddy. I expect them to reach Lanyon cross in about seven to eight spans if they begin now. If they send their florse riders ahead, then they will be here in about four spans.” Ivor reported what he had seen.
“Lord Wyatt, if we push the florses to walk trot and rest them a bit after a league, we can be in Lanyon in just under eight spans. We can then alert the Baron of Lanyon and send a floxis message to inform the capital and the First Order of Knights.” Lars proposed with a salute and fist double chest bump.
“How far from Lanyon to Brea?” I asked openly.
“It is about seven leagues.” Zack answered confidently.
“Can we push hard to reach Brea in a day from Lanyon?” I asked as I consulted the map as I understood a league is about five miles.
“It is possible. However, the florses will be done. They will not be able to push the last thirty three milo from Brea to Camelot. I feel it would not be wise to push the florses that hard. I would suggest we rest on the far side of Lanyon and camp for the night. We can then push on to Brea as that is a good two day travel. Once in Brea, we can find out how far behind the Empire's army is. If necessary, we can then push hard to reach the capital as it will not matter if the florses are exhausted at that point.” Zack advised with a salute.
“I see. Very well. Lars, lets get to Lanyon quickly the way we did after we left Avalon. Rest the florses as suggested.” I stated my decision with a nod.
“As you command, Lord Wyatt.” Lars replied with a salute with a fist double chest bump.
“Ivor, ride back and see if the Empire is on the move. If not, remain watchful until it does. Then come and let us know how fast they are moving. Is it a slow march or a fast one.” I ordered Ivor with a nod of my head.
“I hear and obey, Lord Wyatt.” Ivor stated with a salute and fist double chest bump.
Ivor saddled another florse and galloped down the east road toward Rowan. Our group turned westward toward old Fort Lanyon crossroad. Lars had the florses walk for a little span or fifteen minutes then trot for a little span. This continued until we had completed a league or about five miles. Here we rested the florses for a half span approximately thirty minutes where they gave them a short drink of water. Those foaming were changed out for fresh florses.
Just over seven hours after leaving the outpost, we entered into the town of Lanyon. It was a town of about five to seven thousand people. It was an agricultural town with a merchant store, a shoemaker, a blacksmith and two taverns. The Baron of Lanyon lived in a small two story manor. However, no one was there. The footman stated the steward was out visiting a few farms to review the crops and get a count on newly born calves and lambs.
Zack with Nick and Big Jake went to the merchant storefront and had them send a floxis message to the capital about the Empire army approaching. This news sent the small town into a panic. There was nothing we could do to put the people at ease. However, it was best that we move on down the road a few milos. I also had Nick buy some bacon and eggs that Big Jake would get with the money he had left over.
Continuing on, we stopped with the city of Lanyon barely in sight and pulled off the road a good distance along a small creek with a wooded area. Once everyone began exiting, the shouts of Moe could be clearly heard where I quickly went to check with the doctors.
“Relax, Relax. It is alright.” Johannas said as he was holding down Moe who continued to moan and cry out.
“Lord Wyatt, Moe did not travel well but the mattress helped.” Said Rowland who began crawling into the cart.
“He is in a lot of pain. The motion over the last hour just became unbearable for him.” Johannas commented as he looked at Rowland.
“We need to make a weak pain drought and just get him completely soused.” Johannas stated as he basically was now sitting on Moe to keep him under control.
“I already have some made up and Lord Wyatt bought some really strong umber spirytus.” Rowland replied jumping out of the cart.
“Do you need anything?” I asked Rowland when he looked at me.
“No, Lord Wyatt. Once he has about four good cups, Moe will quiet down and he will not feel much pain.” Rowland said with a salute and quickly ran to the other cart.
Walking over to the other cart, I planned on speaking with Sir Jas. Rowland ran past nodding as his arms were full to deliver the pain medicine and start the process of getting Moe inebriated. At the cart, I saw Sir Jas sitting up with a strain on his face.
“Sorry for the rough ride.” I apologized with a nod of my head.
“Do not be. You were wise to put distance from the Empire's forces. Just too many for you to fight with the few men you have. However, I do not doubt you could have eliminated half their number with your Atlantean weapons.” Sir Jas replied as he obviously was trying not to show how much in pain he was in.
“Thank you, Sir Jas. Most kind. Perhaps, you would like to join me for the evening meal. Give you a chance to get some fresh air and have some company.” I asked for I wanted to speak with Sir Jas concerning military matters.
“Yes, I am most honored.” Sir Jas answered with a smile and a salute.
“Lucky.” Reagan said but he too was also looking as though he was in a lot of pain as well.
“You know full well you are eating mush foods and drinking broths. It would be wrong to tempt you with what we may have.” I replied to Reagan shaking my head.
“I know. What I would not give for a nice thick boar steak!” Reagan said with a grunt.
“I promise to treat you to boar steaks when you are well enough to enjoy it.” I promised with a little laugh.
“Sounds good.” Reagan said with a brief half wave salute as Reagan grunted in pain and holding his belly with his eyes closed tightly.
“I will see you in a bit, Sir Jas.” I said with a nod and walked back toward my carriage.
The privacy screen had been set up by Lukas, Stefan and Alice with Gus arranging my little section in one corner. Tiana was setting up the bronze bowl while Rana was watching the construction of a new fire pit nearby. I took out the nylon camping chairs and sat down in one. Pamba having finished her constitutional jumped up into my lap and rolled over onto her back. I then rubbed her belly where she literally giggled and was kicking her rear paws in pure delight.
About forty five minutes later, Tiana with Gus came walking up.
“Would you like to wash up, Lord Wyatt?” Asked Tiana with a salute as her ears were drooped down halfway.
That would be lovely.” I replied.
I was then led to my little section where I was undressed. Rana came with my blue outfit that in all honesty did not fit that well but it would serve. After Tiana applied the scented oil, Old Maude came to apply the salve and put a new dressing on my wound.
“Tiana, you look very tired. Please get some rest. It will not do if you become sick.” I said with concern.
“Thank you, Lord Wyatt. I am really OK. Just not used to hard travel.” Tiana replied with a brief smile.
“You should turn in after you eat. Do not object. You need the rest. That goes for everyone here!” I insisted with a nod.
After Old Maude finished up, Gus helped me finish dressing and Stefan put on my slippers. Rana walked around me shaking her head then promised to make the clothes fit me better in the future.
Walking over my two folding chairs, Sir Jas was sitting in one with his leg stretched out. I sat down next to him. Looking over, I called to Rolf who was standing nearby to have a couple of logs set up around my fire as I expected others to join me.
Illya and Rina came a short time later and gave a short curtsy and bow before sitting down off to my far right. Charlie came running where he gave me a formal bow.
“Good evening, Count Wyatt.” Said Charlie giving my formal title.
“Good evening, Charlie. Perhaps after you see the king, I can call you Count Appleton once your title has been officially transferred to you.
“I hope so. I must avenge my father.” Said Charlie with a sour look.
“Look at me Charlie! Those who walk the path of revenge find only misery, destruction and disappointment. Revenge never ends how you think it should and only brings more sorrow. What you should focus on is justice! Justice not revenge. Do you understand the difference?” I asked the poignant question after my admonishment.
“I think so.” Replied Charlie with his head downcast.
“Good. You should talk and ask others the best way to seek justice. You do not want to go down an evil path that you will regret for the rest of your life. Now, lift your head. All is good between us.” I said with a smile.
Charlie looked up at me and smiled before running and hugging Prima and Freya who had watched the exchange. Freya sat to my left on a raised log that had a flattened section. Prima and Charlie sat on another log further to my left.
Kanade came with four porcelain cups of wine which she gave to Sir Jas, Freya, Prima and myself. Returning a short time later, she brought cups for everyone else. When everyone had a cup of wine except Charlie who was given apple cider. Sir Jas gave a toast.
“To good company and friendship.” Sir Jas said with cup raised.
“Good company and friendship.” Replied everyone else including me with cups raised.
“It is good to see everyone this evening. I am glad to have those I trust around me.” I said with a smile.
“Yes, I feel the same.” Freya said with a smile as she reached out and touched my left forearm.
“Yes.” Agreed everyone except Charlie who was looking around wide eyed with a questioning look as he did not understand the situation.
“Sir Jas. You have heard the news. What can I expect over the next several days given the Empire of Mardor has invaded deeply into Astria?” I asked Sir Jas for I needed advise as I was in over my head.
“Our king has raised the banner. The levy army will assemble and march push the invaders out. How long this war will last? I do not know. When the Empire invaded the High Valleys, it was more to attack the dwarves of the Iron and Grey Mountains. The Empire and all dwarves have a special hatred for one another. I do not think the Empire wants to go to war with any of the Elf Kingdoms.” Answered Sir Jas said as he looked off into the campfire.
“I see. What does the Empire hope to gain? I do not see a long term benefit to the invasion into central Astria. High Valley's. Yes, Empire most likely thought they could gain and hold that territory. But, to see them invade deep into Astria, I do not understand. What is their overarching goal?” I stated my biggest questions.
“The Empire believes that they can rule the world. They destroyed the Kingdom of Wress to gain the lands of Mag Mell. Their goal is simply rule the world. If they can take and hold any land, they see it as a victory. They are just a greedy evil people ruled by a mad man who will use anything and everything to achieve the goal of world domination. Emperor Morrighan is delusional and his demented authoritarian ways make it impossible for anyone to go against him. Those that speak against the Emperor are either imprisoned, tortured or killed for his enjoyment. Captives of the empire are tortured and some are killed as sport. Those that survive are made slaves which are forcefully bred to create their next generation of armies.” Sir Jas replied with disgust on his face.
“I see. So, the war will continue until either side wins or a peace is made. I feel that total victory is not possible over the Empire. What do you think?” I questioned that continued my thoughts and confirmations.
“You are correct. Empire is a military society with an emperor who rules supreme. Some say his control is backed by a demon who insures no one can usurp the throne. I do not know if this is true or not but that is the rumor. The best outcome for Astria is to drive them out of our lands. If we invade them, it could bring all their forces against us. I feel this invasion is the Empire's reaction to our lack of punitive reaction to the High Valley invasion. They are just seeing if Astria is strong enough to oppose them. If we do not punish them severely, this war could drag on for cycles possibly generations.” Sir Jas answered with a shake of his head.
“Then, lets hope that the levy army obliterates them quickly! To the destruction of the Empire's forces.” I said and raised my cup in a toast.
“To the destruction of the Empire's forces.” Everyone replied including Charlie this time.
The meal was trencher style of meat cubes with potatoes, peas and carrots in a thick sauce that was very tasty. After the meal, I asked that everyone get some rest as it would be a long day and we may need to travel hard if the Empire's forces were close. After all, they could travel at night to arrive by dawn.
The night passed without any trouble or anything of note. The sky was cloudy off to the east but clear off to the west. Just as the cooking fires were going, sound of alarm rang out.
“Alarm, Alarm! Lars! Armed soldiers to the south!” Called one of the guards on watch.
I immediately pulled on my bluejeans and a t shirt. I opened the curtain to the carriage where Razor had leapt off and was standing a few feet away with Meowth in quiet discussion. I opened the door to the carriage and began pulling on my boots as Lars came running up.
“It looks like the First order of Knights and part of the levy army moving up the Kings Highway.” Lars reported with a salute and fist double chest bump.
“That is good news.” I replied as I gave a salute and a nod to Lars.
About an hour later, the army stopped and allowed their men a rest as several riders came to our encampment. Stepping forward, I stood looking up at a man that seemed familiar to me but I knew I had not met him before. The imposing man with very broad shoulders dismounted with his yellow and white feathered capped knights behind him. I remembered that Sir Jas had a yellow feather and the other captain also had a white feather. I then noticed the gold ring on this man who looked at me with piercing eyes. The gold ringed man was in well polished dark purple colored armor. I noted the sigil crest of a double diamond where one was red and the other white both framed in gold on his shield and the on the flag the standard bearer was holding.
“I am Margrave Zoran Zolik Commander of the First Order of Knights. Given the description my brother gave, you must be Count Ryan Wyatt.” Stated Margrave Zolik with a salute and no expression at all.
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Count Ryan Wyatt.” I introduced myself with a salute and I frowned a bit as I was not sure of proper etiquette in this situation.
“Forgive me. Count Wyatt. I was not sure of your rank and identity.” Margrave Zolik apologized and made another salute followed by a formal bow.
“No problem. I understand and given the circumstances.” I replied with a return salute and a full nod of my head.
“I received your floxis in Brea concerning the Empire's forces. I also understand you already fought a battle against the Empire's monsters. Is that true?” Asked Margrave Zolik.
“Yes. The battle was three days ago. My scouts found the Empire's forces yesterday morning. We pushed hard from the outpost near Lanyon Cross on the Avalon Elysium road.” I replied and shook my head in remembering that ordeal.
“How large was the monster force you faced?” Asked Margrave Zolik as he frowned with concern.
“About a hundred thirty goblins, five hobgoblins, one ogre, three war orcs carrying red slimes and a salamander commanded by a Mardor slaver. There were also about fifty Empire florse archers with them.” I answered with a slight shrug.
“How many did you lose?” Margrave Zolik asked as he seemed shocked.
“Two house servants caught by arrows over the outpost wall by the florse archers. I lost none of my guards but two were severely injured.” I said matter of factually looking the Margrave in the eye.
“Seriously! You defeated them with no loss to your fighting men! That is incredible!” Exclaimed Margrave Zolik in total shock.
“Well, it is not what your are thinking. I set up an ambush at the outpost using caltrops. It forced the monsters into a kill zone where they could not rush us in a mass wave. Our archers picked off the enemy without having to concern themselves with close combat. By the time close combat happened, their numbers had been reduced enough that the battle was manageable.” I replied to the stunned looks of the Margrave and his men.
“That is unbelievable. What are caltrops? I have never heard that word before.” Asked Margrave Zolik.
“Lars, retrieve one of the caltrops from the baggage cart and give it to the Margrave.” I ordered with a wave of my hand to the cart.
After a couple minutes, Lars handed Margrave Zolik a caltrop.
“Keep that as reference. It works against monsters as they are barefoot as a defensive barrier. These wooden types do not work very well against florses or men with proper shoes. If you have metal ones, it would devastate their florses and provide problems for any infantry.” I explained as Margrave Zolik handed it off to his yellow feathered subordinate.
“Sir Samuel, have the men riding make these as we travel. I have the feeling it will be something we can use.” Margrave Zolik stated to his captain.
“Yes. Lord Zolik” Replied Sir Samuel who handed it to a white feathered man behind him.
“Count Wyatt. The king has sent transports to Brea for you. Take the left fork past the city gate as it will take you down to the river docks. There, they will load up your carriages and carts and stow your florses. You can float down the Cyan River and arrive in Camelot by the morning. The king is very anxious to meet you. Seems that several ambassadors have been singing your praise. Amazingly, an Atlantean ambassador has also arrived demanding to see and speak with you. Your star is on the rise and with each passing day your fame grows.” Margrave Zolik stated with a laugh.
“I see. I was not aware that any knew of me.” I stated but knew that Princess Astrid and Sam stated that they would spread the word about my deeds.
“You had to know the high elves would send out word. Especially, given well. Never mind. Safe to say you should have known.” Said Margrave Zolik with a deep laugh.
“Yes, I kind of suspected. However, until it happens, you never know.” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.
“Fair enough.” Said Margrave Zolik looking at me seriously.
“Rider approaching from the North!” Shouted Nick and came running up to our group.
“Ivor is approaching at hard gallop.” Reported Nick with a salute and fist double chest bump.
“Very good. Make sure to have a new florse ready and saddle it for him when he arrives.” I ordered with a salute and nod of my head.
Turning to Margrave Zolik I said, “I had one of my scouts stay with the Empire's forces to let me know when they started to move out from their campsite and how fast they are marching.” I said in seriousness.
“That is valuable information.” Margrave Zolik said impressed.
A few minutes later, Ivor rode into camp and made his report.
“The Empire rested most of yesterday as I suspect they did not want to march through mud. When they reached Lanyon Cross they turned south toward Elysium. They stopped at the outpost and seemed to be alerted when they found some of the burned bodies of the goblins. They have now camped in the outpost and seem to be setting up to defend it.” Reported Ivor with a salute and fist double chest bump.
“Well done. Get something to eat and a bit or rest. We will move out in two or so spans.” I told Ivor with a fist double chest bump in return.
“You are one of Duke Boasag's men.” Stated Margrave Zolik as he seemed to recognize Ivor.
“No, Lord Zolik. I am a house guard to Count Wyatt. I used to be with Duke Boasag. Now, I serve Count Wyatt who is a noble above nobles. It is an honor and privilege to be in service to Count Wyatt. I would go so far to say service is like brotherhood and family under House of Wyatt.” Responded Ivor with a salute and bow before walking off toward the cooking fires and where Big Jake stood out.
“You have a loyal man.” Said Margrave Zolik.
“Margrave Zolik, I would consider it an honor and privilege to be allowed to serve House of Wyatt. All of Lord Wyatt's people are extremely loyal. All would fight to the death to protect him and all want to see him succeed.” Sir Jas declared as he hobbled up with the help of Tobin.
“Sir Jas. I had heard you were wounded. My brother opines that his workload is doubled with your absence.” Margrave Zolik said taking note of Sir Jas.
“I will be requesting transfer to House of Wyatt when I speak to Duke Avondale. Lord Wyatt's bravery, manner and philosophy are such that few nobles can attain. His care and concern for his people is like a father looking after his children. Who would not want to serve under a lord like that?” Sir Jas announced with a salute and bow.
“Your words have been noted. I wonder what my brother Sargos will say when he hears about this.” Said Margrave Zolik with a frown and shaking of his head.
“Be warned, there may be caltrops to the north up on both sides of the Avalon road as you approach the outpost. They are also along the east side of the outpost. I do not know how many are out there as the monsters soaked up a good number to the north of the outpost. The ones to the east were untouched and will be a hindrance so be careful. If the Empire has moved on, you can retrieve them and have a good number already made.” I advised with a serious warning.
“Thank you, Lord Wyatt. We will see you in Camelot within a month or I will be dead.” Said Margrave Zolik as he mounted his florse and began leading the First Order of Knights with his part of the levy army down the road.
2024.06.07 03:37 LostManufacturer7316 t.c.
I miss you. I breathe in hollow oceans of oxygen, breathe out dispirited sighs, and I miss you. I remember, all of it, forever knitted into the backdrop of my mind. And I miss you. I encourage my thoughts to drift, to breathe in your smell, once again; the heady-salt-you taste of your skin that soothes and devastates my insides... And I miss you. I miss you as the sun's rays flood life into my eyes, and feel remorse for all the moments in which we never stood a chance to meet. Lifetimes pass before my eyes - a cruel infinitesimal flipbook accordion, while incidental moments of contentment allow me to forget that you aren’t coming back to me, this time.
I miss you as the day fades away. I find myself observing the moon as she rises; the blinding angel of unfathomably dark skies. She welcomes desires of the heart like no other. The quiet dreams… those that ring with gentle sincerity. Wishes that pry open our eyes… not merely keep us caged inside, in some complex dichotomy of petty lies and false, shiny pride. The simple truths that stir up buried emotion… softly dissolving unwarranted beams of deflection.
These are no tricks of the light, for she gracefully holds onto our shackles for the night. Illuminating our quietest dreams - simple, or steep - the ones we tuck carefully back into covers as we drift off to sleep. She seems to hold them tenderly, with faultless empathy - she expresses her love the way that you alone first did for me. I open my heart to her, face to face, and wish so desperately that I wanted, even the tiniest bit, to wipe this heart clean from your name.
I miss you when my mind wanders astray... remembering your firm, gentle hands, wide enough to encompass my perpetually rigid shoulder blades - rhetorically asking with clear, knowing eyes if I’m sure that I’m okay. An inviting, omniscient eyebrow, raised in heartfelt skepticism, would reach near-comically above your eyes. I yearn perilously to relive memories of your fingertips painting glorious brushstrokes of comfort deeply into my palms and thighs, my fingers smoothing delicate circles into the soft tender of your belly, or earnestly kneading limbs into muscle and sinew, to unsnarl buried tension I wish you wouldn't carry with such pride. I miss so terribly the unfaltering way your eyes were never the first to leave mine.
Painstakingly reliving memories, over and over again, lest I forget our brazen, heavenly bliss forged in guileless sin, awakened with the long-desired freedom of permission to press my soul tightly to yours; my skin against your skin. Devotional temples built of flesh and bone... we collide into the primordial dance of shifting muscles, melding in tandem like we were made for just this; exploring sweet treasures found in teasing out each rich, dulcet tone. God forbid I forget the apocalyptic first or sorrowful last time that we kissed. Your touch was soft as a brook, yet burned with holy fire... I wish, and I wish, that I wanted, even a little bit, to forget the heart-wrenching beauty of your soul, rolling in rhythms bespoken of a divine masochist. I dream of all the different versions of your pleasure I could draw out with my heart, body, and mind. If only, if only. If only. If only we’d had more time.
I miss you when I’m feeling soft. Aching to hold, to bestow my adoration with painfully sure fingertips and promises of devotion flowing through my soul. I’m happy, then I miss you; I grieve our denouement when faced with each softer, wiser version of myself you may never get to meet. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you gifted me your ace while I kept my cards hidden behind the flimsy illusion of fate. Why did you have to be too good to be true? So unbearably right for me... and I, for you.
For as long as I live, at the very least, I promise you this: I will never forget the light breathing life back into our eyes; you spoke your dreams and they harmonized into a luscious symphony, for our holy-grail prize is the empyrean way your deepest dreams are eternally woven with mine. I will never forget the merging of our wounded hearts… creating something sweet out of individually broken parts, which might as well have been defined by the jaded ring of defeat and self-perpetuating misery. I remember how you thought I was there to help you heal; it's much more fitting to know, now, that's what you also did for me. Hands crafted for love, with the heart of a saint, a Tartarean soul, and a delightfully subterranean mind... your exhilarating essence fights through trials of hell to walk so free in the light.
and yet. And yet, and.... and yet. There's no just resolution for this cutthroat twist of fate. The only words that could satiate this pain are: tell me you miss me too, and you understand why I can't help but wait. You will find your way back home to me no matter how grueling the journey. No matter how long it takes. I will miss you in the vibrating silences between sounds, in quiet caverns where I escape to contemplate. And I miss you in each parting of my lips; reminding me where yours belong. I will miss the way your happiness is bound to my fatal red thread; needing the way you lead me back into my soul's truest song.
I miss your schoolboy bouts of joy and the instinctive way our minds, bodies, and souls clash-blend so masterfully... authentic connection; we were poetry in motion, art raised into life. Holy fools with souls of the wise, we were sacrilegion itself and the most sacred, fine wine. I swear, I'd be content to listen to you talk at unforgivable length, each and every passable day. I would do it all with easier smiles alighting upon my face if you would just come home and reclaim your place.
I swear that I could be brave enough to put on the cape, even when we're both afraid. I would shoulder the weight this time, not leave you stranded at sea... I owe you that and so much more: it's becoming overwhelmingly clear to me. I could be healed enough to trust, this time, dismantling towers of mirage, unveiling well-masked fear and uncertainty. Or at the very least, I could do my best. We could put these tearful convictions to the test to discover once and for all whether or not they really ought to be laid to rest.
I know, you're not coming back for me, yet I wait for you, still - against all rational mind. It makes little sense, yet little else means more, to me... my pure and Plutonian love, it is my steadfast belief that you, and you alone, hold my key.
submitted by LostManufacturer7316 to UnsentLetters [link] [comments]
I miss you as the day fades away. I find myself observing the moon as she rises; the blinding angel of unfathomably dark skies. She welcomes desires of the heart like no other. The quiet dreams… those that ring with gentle sincerity. Wishes that pry open our eyes… not merely keep us caged inside, in some complex dichotomy of petty lies and false, shiny pride. The simple truths that stir up buried emotion… softly dissolving unwarranted beams of deflection.
These are no tricks of the light, for she gracefully holds onto our shackles for the night. Illuminating our quietest dreams - simple, or steep - the ones we tuck carefully back into covers as we drift off to sleep. She seems to hold them tenderly, with faultless empathy - she expresses her love the way that you alone first did for me. I open my heart to her, face to face, and wish so desperately that I wanted, even the tiniest bit, to wipe this heart clean from your name.
I miss you when my mind wanders astray... remembering your firm, gentle hands, wide enough to encompass my perpetually rigid shoulder blades - rhetorically asking with clear, knowing eyes if I’m sure that I’m okay. An inviting, omniscient eyebrow, raised in heartfelt skepticism, would reach near-comically above your eyes. I yearn perilously to relive memories of your fingertips painting glorious brushstrokes of comfort deeply into my palms and thighs, my fingers smoothing delicate circles into the soft tender of your belly, or earnestly kneading limbs into muscle and sinew, to unsnarl buried tension I wish you wouldn't carry with such pride. I miss so terribly the unfaltering way your eyes were never the first to leave mine.
Painstakingly reliving memories, over and over again, lest I forget our brazen, heavenly bliss forged in guileless sin, awakened with the long-desired freedom of permission to press my soul tightly to yours; my skin against your skin. Devotional temples built of flesh and bone... we collide into the primordial dance of shifting muscles, melding in tandem like we were made for just this; exploring sweet treasures found in teasing out each rich, dulcet tone. God forbid I forget the apocalyptic first or sorrowful last time that we kissed. Your touch was soft as a brook, yet burned with holy fire... I wish, and I wish, that I wanted, even a little bit, to forget the heart-wrenching beauty of your soul, rolling in rhythms bespoken of a divine masochist. I dream of all the different versions of your pleasure I could draw out with my heart, body, and mind. If only, if only. If only. If only we’d had more time.
I miss you when I’m feeling soft. Aching to hold, to bestow my adoration with painfully sure fingertips and promises of devotion flowing through my soul. I’m happy, then I miss you; I grieve our denouement when faced with each softer, wiser version of myself you may never get to meet. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you gifted me your ace while I kept my cards hidden behind the flimsy illusion of fate. Why did you have to be too good to be true? So unbearably right for me... and I, for you.
For as long as I live, at the very least, I promise you this: I will never forget the light breathing life back into our eyes; you spoke your dreams and they harmonized into a luscious symphony, for our holy-grail prize is the empyrean way your deepest dreams are eternally woven with mine. I will never forget the merging of our wounded hearts… creating something sweet out of individually broken parts, which might as well have been defined by the jaded ring of defeat and self-perpetuating misery. I remember how you thought I was there to help you heal; it's much more fitting to know, now, that's what you also did for me. Hands crafted for love, with the heart of a saint, a Tartarean soul, and a delightfully subterranean mind... your exhilarating essence fights through trials of hell to walk so free in the light.
and yet. And yet, and.... and yet. There's no just resolution for this cutthroat twist of fate. The only words that could satiate this pain are: tell me you miss me too, and you understand why I can't help but wait. You will find your way back home to me no matter how grueling the journey. No matter how long it takes. I will miss you in the vibrating silences between sounds, in quiet caverns where I escape to contemplate. And I miss you in each parting of my lips; reminding me where yours belong. I will miss the way your happiness is bound to my fatal red thread; needing the way you lead me back into my soul's truest song.
I miss your schoolboy bouts of joy and the instinctive way our minds, bodies, and souls clash-blend so masterfully... authentic connection; we were poetry in motion, art raised into life. Holy fools with souls of the wise, we were sacrilegion itself and the most sacred, fine wine. I swear, I'd be content to listen to you talk at unforgivable length, each and every passable day. I would do it all with easier smiles alighting upon my face if you would just come home and reclaim your place.
I swear that I could be brave enough to put on the cape, even when we're both afraid. I would shoulder the weight this time, not leave you stranded at sea... I owe you that and so much more: it's becoming overwhelmingly clear to me. I could be healed enough to trust, this time, dismantling towers of mirage, unveiling well-masked fear and uncertainty. Or at the very least, I could do my best. We could put these tearful convictions to the test to discover once and for all whether or not they really ought to be laid to rest.
I know, you're not coming back for me, yet I wait for you, still - against all rational mind. It makes little sense, yet little else means more, to me... my pure and Plutonian love, it is my steadfast belief that you, and you alone, hold my key.
2024.06.07 01:11 cgstories Yellow Nightmare
At one point in my life, I nearly lost my sanity. The madness started off as a nightmare, then it leaked into my days.
At first, it was quiet and slow, like the daddy long-leg spider spinning its web in the corner of the ceiling. Then, with a few seconds between each one, water droplets dripped from the faucet into the sink. Each drop rang the same flat, dead note, echoing throughout the apartment. The wallpaper had turned increasingly yellow with every drop, but not a vibrant yellow. Rather, it was sickly and jaundiced, like a dying canary with its feathers falling off.
There was a tear as well. A loose sliver of wallpaper flapped back and forth as the wind blew in through an opened window. It reminded me of the way fatty, loose, and wrinkled skin jiggles within an old woman's armpit. The flap of wallpaper hid something, resembling a head. It lacked eyes, mouth, or nose—just the veiled impression of a head. But before I could get a good look, I was torn from the mystery by the screech of my alarm clock.
I went into the kitchen to find that yesterday’s delivery of bread had gone bad. The nightmare had eaten it from the inside out, leaving nothing but black crumbs for me to scrounge from the floor. When I opened the fridge door, an odor assaulted my nostrils. All the beverages had gone sour, the eggs were cracked, and the greens had browned and withered. With a sigh of defeat, I closed the fridge door. I would have to buy new groceries. But that would mean leaving this apartment, going outside.
Outside.
Out into the world, with all its chaos.
That was where the nightmare wanted me to go. But I wasn't ready, not yet. I couldn't just walk out my front door. It wasn't that easy. Going outside required preparation, and even thinking about the process of getting ready made my head throb. My chest started to ache, as if all the air had been squeezed out of my lungs. I sat in the kitchen, motionless, only listening to the noise of eight spindly legs as they incessantly worked toward some unknown goal.
The spider had spun its web across the ceiling, and the light danced upon it, its long, pale fingers plucking the strings. In an odd way, I couldn't help but marvel at its beauty as it shimmered. It resonated with the muted buzz of trapped insects, mummified victims awaiting their demise in Saran wrap. I could feel their suffocation as the air was squeezed from their lungs. Their frantic movements came to an abrupt halt as the spider reeled them closer.
A silent panic enveloped the walls, and its deathly yellow tinge cast a darker hue than congealed mustard over everything around it.
Like the fading bathroom light, which glowed in a murky gold that shimmered weakly now and then, my reflection in the mirror appeared as a featureless black shape. Cold drops traced over my closed eyelids, the bridge of my nose, my lips, my chin, and cheeks. One of my molars was loose in my mouth, and I lazily flicked it with the tip of my tongue while the rest remained firm and pearly white. There was no pain, only the dread of unlocking the front door, weighing heavily on my stomach.
How did it all start? How did it come to this? There was a time in my life when I didn't feel this unending sickness, this terrible sense of foreboding. There was a time when nightmares confined themselves to my sleep, and sometimes I didn't dream at all. In those innocent days, I had a job, a dull, dead-end office job with my own cubicle. It was a white, square space, and I was just one of a hundred dull, white-collared office drones in identical cubicles. Faceless, uniformed, synchronized. That's what I remembered from the old days.
I sat there, looking at papers stacked in rows that reached such towering heights they seemed to stretch into infinity. Just gazing up at them would strain my neck, their sheer magnitude bearing an intimidating resemblance to the frieze of Roman columns. It brought to mind arched ceilings adorned with intricately carved animal faces and mythical gods entwined in vines. It served as a reminder of just how small and insignificant one could feel, like an ant that could easily be squished beneath the toe of one of those carved deities.
Yet, in my cubicle, there was no beautiful artwork to behold. Instead, my gaze was met with an endless, nauseating expanse of blinding, bright whiteness. The fluorescent lights overhead forced my irises to shrink to the size of a grain. The towering stack of paperwork loomed over me, trembling with every touch, as if threatening to crumble into a million pieces. As the electric fan above blew in my direction, one lone piece of paper teetered on the edge, inching its way over and descending like a delicate feather, finally landing right in front of me.
The page before me remained blank, serving as a mere surface for my coffee mug. Suddenly, I found myself unable to lift the pen, unable to write. All I could manage was to shift uncomfortably in my chair as my left leg trembled uncontrollably. The fluorescent lights above grew increasingly brighter, their heat intensifying as if licking at the back of my neck.
I felt overwhelmed in the vast expanse of cubicles, lost amidst the faceless crowd where everyone consumed the same sandwich and salad, where our dreams blended together into a monotonous haze. In this world, each one of us bore monosyllabic names and identical haircuts.
In an abrupt act, I dropped the pen and abandoned my desk. In the blink of an eye, I found myself outside, perched on the ledge of the 49th floor of the building. The wind jeered at me with a malicious force, while the city and its inhabitants below appeared smaller than ants. Leaning against the building, most people would tremble at such dizzying heights. However, I calmly observed the birds soaring by, vanishing into the clouds as they drifted across the vast expanse of the blue sky, akin to white caps crashing against rugged rocks on a distant shore. I stood at the precipice, poised to leap into the vast unknown, longing to finally awaken from this torment.
Yet, I did not.
Instead, I found myself returning to my desk once more. My coffee mug, bearing a small crack at the bottom, bled onto the blank page, leaving behind a peculiar mark. It almost resembled the shape of a head, faceless and haunting, with invisible eyes that seemed to follow me relentlessly. Though I crumpled up that sheet of paper and discarded it, its presence lingered. As I sat at the desk, absentmindedly rolling the pen between my fingers, its shadow loomed over me, breathing down my neck, prickling my skin and hair like nettles.
The paperwork continued to mount, growing higher and higher, causing the Roman columns to tremble and sway unsteadily. Under its weight, the desk's joints creaked and shuddered. My shoulders ached, worn down by the relentless gaze of the faceless presence. The once-bright light above me became blinding, making the ink from my pen seemingly vanish from the white page.
As the pen slipped from my trembling hand and fell to the floor, the colonnade collapsed, its destruction drowned out by a cacophony of shuffling papers, ringing phones, and the mocking chatter of the wall clock ticking away. I ran down the hallway, propelled by a surge of desperation, bolted through the emergency door, and descended 49 flights of stairs with reckless abandon.
For eight months, I could not bring myself to return to that suffocating cubicle. I imagined it sitting there, empty and abandoned, with only traces of my work lingering stubbornly, like weathered remnants of ancient Rome's walls and columns. I remained stagnant, caught between the past and the future, unable to move backward or forward. Instead, I remained anchored to this apartment, gripped by an inexplicable fear that constricted my lungs and relentlessly throbbed in my heart.
In this little studio, I believed I was safe, if only for a fleeting moment. But now, I could no longer divert my gaze as the nightmare crept out from within the walls, causing the lights to flicker and devouring my food from the inside out.
But still, I couldn't bring myself to step outside, not today. The sky appeared too yellow, too sickly. Perhaps tomorrow would offer a better opportunity. The outside air seemed tainted, unfit to breathe on this particular day. There was something amiss, something poisonous lingering in the atmosphere. Its taste lingered in my mouth, reminiscent of chewing on cotton balls soaked in stale mustard. No amount of milk or vodka could wash it away. It clung to my tongue, playfully flicking against a dangling nerve of one of my teeth.
I vigorously brushed my tongue with a toothbrush, scrubbing until its pristine white coat turned crimson. I winced as I rinsed it with hot water, hoping to alleviate the sensation. Yet, the taste persisted, stubbornly clinging to the tip of my tongue.
Like a horrible itch.
Burning.
Stinging.
Pinching pain.
A glorious red ring with a yellow gem.
I tried to pinch it between my thumb and forefinger, and tears welled up in my eyes. The stinging pain radiated from the tip of my tongue, spreading through my entire being. Yet, it remained, gleaming at me like an ugly sun smirking behind a shroud of smog. The wind persistently blew through the flap in the wallpaper, seeping in through the window. I could sense the presence lurking behind it, fixating its gaze upon me.
As I locked eyes with it, I stood frozen in place. My mouth hung open as the impossible unfolded before me.
It formed a smile without lips and let out a laugh. The sound was flat and dissonant, akin to the incessant drip of water from that wretched loose faucet, slithering down the sink's throat. That same corroded throat into which I had gagged and expelled blood and bile from my stomach. I felt as though all the blood had drained from my face. With trepidation, I raised my eyes to the dirty mirror above the sink. Reflecting back at me was nothing but a husk, a ghost of my former self.
But upon closer inspection, I noticed a change. It crept along at a sluggish, excruciating pace. It began with the whites of my eyes, now tinged with yellow. Yellow. And my pupils were as pitch-black and vacant as a sinkhole. My teeth, too, were misaligned and yellow-ish brown. I had neglected to brush them for weeks, perhaps months, to the point where a layer of plaque had encrusted their surface and wedged between them.
The tooth at the back could no longer find its place. I tapped it once more with the tip of my tongue, feeling its jagged edge scrape against the tender yellow sore. And then it dislodged, bouncing around in my mouth. In sheer disgust, I spat it out. The blood marked a trail to the sinkhole, dangerously close to its edge. I ran my tongue over the remaining teeth, sensing them shift in their positions. Soon, one after another, they cracked and fell, and the little red dots swirled and twirled along with them in the sink. Only a few teeth stubbornly clung to the front, refusing to let go.
You look so ugly. I remembered those words. A colleague had once said them to me during lunch.
"And you look like smeared shit," I shot back. We sat in the corner of the cafeteria, hunched over our sandwiches and coffee. That lipless, smiling joker told me to calm down, claiming they didn't mean it. Oh, how the others laughed. I couldn't bring myself to look any of them in the face.
Weren't we supposed to be friends? Friends who winked and smiled as they plunged knives into your gut, watching your insides spill onto the floor. Friends who pretended to sympathize as they picked up your organs, attempting to put them back, telling you it was just a joke. All wounds heal, they said. But this scar remained hidden beneath my clothes. I was the punchline of the jokes friends liked to share.
When lunch ended, everyone returned to their cubicles. Everyone except me. I sneaked away for a quick trip to the restroom. It was then that I began to feel the tooth move. I flicked it with my tongue.
Flick. Flick.
As all of this came to me, I couldn't even stand to look my reflection in the eye. At least, not without feeling the urge to destroy it, shattering every remaining shard of glass into the sink. The thing behind the wallpaper smiled wider, revealing a row of straight white teeth held together by browning gums. Its deep chuckle resonated throughout the apartment, grating against my skin and pinching my nerves. With every ounce of my dwindling strength, I clenched my fists.
Don't laugh at me.
Don't.
Laugh.
I pushed away the dangling piece of wallpaper and came face to face with it. Straight white teeth. Wide white eyes. Look how it mocked me. Sneered at me. What did it want from me? Why had it intruded into my world?
"Go back! Look at everything you've taken from me. Please, just let me have this day!" I pleaded.
It said nothing in response. Its smile only widened, stretching across the wall and tearing new lines through the wallpaper. The wood snapped and cracked. The nails and joints creaked from within. The wall heaved in and out like someone dying from laughter, gasping for air in desperate suffocation.
Stop laughing.
I took hold of the fluttering piece and traveled along the wall, crushing it in my clenched fist. It felt strange in my hand, warm and soft, almost like dry human skin. The thing's smile now appeared strained, as if it were attempting to endure some hidden anguish. Despite its pride, it couldn't let me hear its soft squeaks of pain. But the more I ripped away, the deeper I dug my fingers into its soft tissue, the tighter it clenched its teeth. With each tightening grip, it began to bleed, its blood seeping under my fingernails. Tears welled up in its eyes.
Nowhere inside me was there an ounce of pity for it. I felt nothing. Seething contempt was all that remained within me. I tore away at every inch of its skin, dismantling it from one end to the other until there was nothing left but its fragile bones. Its discarded skin littered the floor, staining the carpet with its blood. Cockroaches scurried in and out of its empty sockets, while termites nibbled at the wood in its final dying breaths. Just as I began to turn away, I noticed something at the center. Stuck between its ribs was a dead canary. The bird's color had faded to gray, its lifeless body consumed from the inside out, its remaining insides shriveled to crumbs.
I cooled myself down with a handful of freezing water from the faucet. When I opened my eyes, I no longer saw the featureless black shape staring back at me. My teeth were intact. The bubble on my tongue had burst, oozing its yellow pus. Its taste was sour, like mustard churning in expired milk.
The faucet continued to leak.
I realized I had forgotten to properly wash my hands. My fingernails were caked with blood and grime. I reasoned that I could do it later, perhaps before I went grocery shopping. You see, I could do everything later.
But right now, all I wanted was sleep.
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At first, it was quiet and slow, like the daddy long-leg spider spinning its web in the corner of the ceiling. Then, with a few seconds between each one, water droplets dripped from the faucet into the sink. Each drop rang the same flat, dead note, echoing throughout the apartment. The wallpaper had turned increasingly yellow with every drop, but not a vibrant yellow. Rather, it was sickly and jaundiced, like a dying canary with its feathers falling off.
There was a tear as well. A loose sliver of wallpaper flapped back and forth as the wind blew in through an opened window. It reminded me of the way fatty, loose, and wrinkled skin jiggles within an old woman's armpit. The flap of wallpaper hid something, resembling a head. It lacked eyes, mouth, or nose—just the veiled impression of a head. But before I could get a good look, I was torn from the mystery by the screech of my alarm clock.
I went into the kitchen to find that yesterday’s delivery of bread had gone bad. The nightmare had eaten it from the inside out, leaving nothing but black crumbs for me to scrounge from the floor. When I opened the fridge door, an odor assaulted my nostrils. All the beverages had gone sour, the eggs were cracked, and the greens had browned and withered. With a sigh of defeat, I closed the fridge door. I would have to buy new groceries. But that would mean leaving this apartment, going outside.
Outside.
Out into the world, with all its chaos.
That was where the nightmare wanted me to go. But I wasn't ready, not yet. I couldn't just walk out my front door. It wasn't that easy. Going outside required preparation, and even thinking about the process of getting ready made my head throb. My chest started to ache, as if all the air had been squeezed out of my lungs. I sat in the kitchen, motionless, only listening to the noise of eight spindly legs as they incessantly worked toward some unknown goal.
The spider had spun its web across the ceiling, and the light danced upon it, its long, pale fingers plucking the strings. In an odd way, I couldn't help but marvel at its beauty as it shimmered. It resonated with the muted buzz of trapped insects, mummified victims awaiting their demise in Saran wrap. I could feel their suffocation as the air was squeezed from their lungs. Their frantic movements came to an abrupt halt as the spider reeled them closer.
A silent panic enveloped the walls, and its deathly yellow tinge cast a darker hue than congealed mustard over everything around it.
Like the fading bathroom light, which glowed in a murky gold that shimmered weakly now and then, my reflection in the mirror appeared as a featureless black shape. Cold drops traced over my closed eyelids, the bridge of my nose, my lips, my chin, and cheeks. One of my molars was loose in my mouth, and I lazily flicked it with the tip of my tongue while the rest remained firm and pearly white. There was no pain, only the dread of unlocking the front door, weighing heavily on my stomach.
How did it all start? How did it come to this? There was a time in my life when I didn't feel this unending sickness, this terrible sense of foreboding. There was a time when nightmares confined themselves to my sleep, and sometimes I didn't dream at all. In those innocent days, I had a job, a dull, dead-end office job with my own cubicle. It was a white, square space, and I was just one of a hundred dull, white-collared office drones in identical cubicles. Faceless, uniformed, synchronized. That's what I remembered from the old days.
I sat there, looking at papers stacked in rows that reached such towering heights they seemed to stretch into infinity. Just gazing up at them would strain my neck, their sheer magnitude bearing an intimidating resemblance to the frieze of Roman columns. It brought to mind arched ceilings adorned with intricately carved animal faces and mythical gods entwined in vines. It served as a reminder of just how small and insignificant one could feel, like an ant that could easily be squished beneath the toe of one of those carved deities.
Yet, in my cubicle, there was no beautiful artwork to behold. Instead, my gaze was met with an endless, nauseating expanse of blinding, bright whiteness. The fluorescent lights overhead forced my irises to shrink to the size of a grain. The towering stack of paperwork loomed over me, trembling with every touch, as if threatening to crumble into a million pieces. As the electric fan above blew in my direction, one lone piece of paper teetered on the edge, inching its way over and descending like a delicate feather, finally landing right in front of me.
The page before me remained blank, serving as a mere surface for my coffee mug. Suddenly, I found myself unable to lift the pen, unable to write. All I could manage was to shift uncomfortably in my chair as my left leg trembled uncontrollably. The fluorescent lights above grew increasingly brighter, their heat intensifying as if licking at the back of my neck.
I felt overwhelmed in the vast expanse of cubicles, lost amidst the faceless crowd where everyone consumed the same sandwich and salad, where our dreams blended together into a monotonous haze. In this world, each one of us bore monosyllabic names and identical haircuts.
In an abrupt act, I dropped the pen and abandoned my desk. In the blink of an eye, I found myself outside, perched on the ledge of the 49th floor of the building. The wind jeered at me with a malicious force, while the city and its inhabitants below appeared smaller than ants. Leaning against the building, most people would tremble at such dizzying heights. However, I calmly observed the birds soaring by, vanishing into the clouds as they drifted across the vast expanse of the blue sky, akin to white caps crashing against rugged rocks on a distant shore. I stood at the precipice, poised to leap into the vast unknown, longing to finally awaken from this torment.
Yet, I did not.
Instead, I found myself returning to my desk once more. My coffee mug, bearing a small crack at the bottom, bled onto the blank page, leaving behind a peculiar mark. It almost resembled the shape of a head, faceless and haunting, with invisible eyes that seemed to follow me relentlessly. Though I crumpled up that sheet of paper and discarded it, its presence lingered. As I sat at the desk, absentmindedly rolling the pen between my fingers, its shadow loomed over me, breathing down my neck, prickling my skin and hair like nettles.
The paperwork continued to mount, growing higher and higher, causing the Roman columns to tremble and sway unsteadily. Under its weight, the desk's joints creaked and shuddered. My shoulders ached, worn down by the relentless gaze of the faceless presence. The once-bright light above me became blinding, making the ink from my pen seemingly vanish from the white page.
As the pen slipped from my trembling hand and fell to the floor, the colonnade collapsed, its destruction drowned out by a cacophony of shuffling papers, ringing phones, and the mocking chatter of the wall clock ticking away. I ran down the hallway, propelled by a surge of desperation, bolted through the emergency door, and descended 49 flights of stairs with reckless abandon.
For eight months, I could not bring myself to return to that suffocating cubicle. I imagined it sitting there, empty and abandoned, with only traces of my work lingering stubbornly, like weathered remnants of ancient Rome's walls and columns. I remained stagnant, caught between the past and the future, unable to move backward or forward. Instead, I remained anchored to this apartment, gripped by an inexplicable fear that constricted my lungs and relentlessly throbbed in my heart.
In this little studio, I believed I was safe, if only for a fleeting moment. But now, I could no longer divert my gaze as the nightmare crept out from within the walls, causing the lights to flicker and devouring my food from the inside out.
But still, I couldn't bring myself to step outside, not today. The sky appeared too yellow, too sickly. Perhaps tomorrow would offer a better opportunity. The outside air seemed tainted, unfit to breathe on this particular day. There was something amiss, something poisonous lingering in the atmosphere. Its taste lingered in my mouth, reminiscent of chewing on cotton balls soaked in stale mustard. No amount of milk or vodka could wash it away. It clung to my tongue, playfully flicking against a dangling nerve of one of my teeth.
I vigorously brushed my tongue with a toothbrush, scrubbing until its pristine white coat turned crimson. I winced as I rinsed it with hot water, hoping to alleviate the sensation. Yet, the taste persisted, stubbornly clinging to the tip of my tongue.
Like a horrible itch.
Burning.
Stinging.
Pinching pain.
A glorious red ring with a yellow gem.
I tried to pinch it between my thumb and forefinger, and tears welled up in my eyes. The stinging pain radiated from the tip of my tongue, spreading through my entire being. Yet, it remained, gleaming at me like an ugly sun smirking behind a shroud of smog. The wind persistently blew through the flap in the wallpaper, seeping in through the window. I could sense the presence lurking behind it, fixating its gaze upon me.
As I locked eyes with it, I stood frozen in place. My mouth hung open as the impossible unfolded before me.
It formed a smile without lips and let out a laugh. The sound was flat and dissonant, akin to the incessant drip of water from that wretched loose faucet, slithering down the sink's throat. That same corroded throat into which I had gagged and expelled blood and bile from my stomach. I felt as though all the blood had drained from my face. With trepidation, I raised my eyes to the dirty mirror above the sink. Reflecting back at me was nothing but a husk, a ghost of my former self.
But upon closer inspection, I noticed a change. It crept along at a sluggish, excruciating pace. It began with the whites of my eyes, now tinged with yellow. Yellow. And my pupils were as pitch-black and vacant as a sinkhole. My teeth, too, were misaligned and yellow-ish brown. I had neglected to brush them for weeks, perhaps months, to the point where a layer of plaque had encrusted their surface and wedged between them.
The tooth at the back could no longer find its place. I tapped it once more with the tip of my tongue, feeling its jagged edge scrape against the tender yellow sore. And then it dislodged, bouncing around in my mouth. In sheer disgust, I spat it out. The blood marked a trail to the sinkhole, dangerously close to its edge. I ran my tongue over the remaining teeth, sensing them shift in their positions. Soon, one after another, they cracked and fell, and the little red dots swirled and twirled along with them in the sink. Only a few teeth stubbornly clung to the front, refusing to let go.
You look so ugly. I remembered those words. A colleague had once said them to me during lunch.
"And you look like smeared shit," I shot back. We sat in the corner of the cafeteria, hunched over our sandwiches and coffee. That lipless, smiling joker told me to calm down, claiming they didn't mean it. Oh, how the others laughed. I couldn't bring myself to look any of them in the face.
Weren't we supposed to be friends? Friends who winked and smiled as they plunged knives into your gut, watching your insides spill onto the floor. Friends who pretended to sympathize as they picked up your organs, attempting to put them back, telling you it was just a joke. All wounds heal, they said. But this scar remained hidden beneath my clothes. I was the punchline of the jokes friends liked to share.
When lunch ended, everyone returned to their cubicles. Everyone except me. I sneaked away for a quick trip to the restroom. It was then that I began to feel the tooth move. I flicked it with my tongue.
Flick. Flick.
As all of this came to me, I couldn't even stand to look my reflection in the eye. At least, not without feeling the urge to destroy it, shattering every remaining shard of glass into the sink. The thing behind the wallpaper smiled wider, revealing a row of straight white teeth held together by browning gums. Its deep chuckle resonated throughout the apartment, grating against my skin and pinching my nerves. With every ounce of my dwindling strength, I clenched my fists.
Don't laugh at me.
Don't.
Laugh.
I pushed away the dangling piece of wallpaper and came face to face with it. Straight white teeth. Wide white eyes. Look how it mocked me. Sneered at me. What did it want from me? Why had it intruded into my world?
"Go back! Look at everything you've taken from me. Please, just let me have this day!" I pleaded.
It said nothing in response. Its smile only widened, stretching across the wall and tearing new lines through the wallpaper. The wood snapped and cracked. The nails and joints creaked from within. The wall heaved in and out like someone dying from laughter, gasping for air in desperate suffocation.
Stop laughing.
I took hold of the fluttering piece and traveled along the wall, crushing it in my clenched fist. It felt strange in my hand, warm and soft, almost like dry human skin. The thing's smile now appeared strained, as if it were attempting to endure some hidden anguish. Despite its pride, it couldn't let me hear its soft squeaks of pain. But the more I ripped away, the deeper I dug my fingers into its soft tissue, the tighter it clenched its teeth. With each tightening grip, it began to bleed, its blood seeping under my fingernails. Tears welled up in its eyes.
Nowhere inside me was there an ounce of pity for it. I felt nothing. Seething contempt was all that remained within me. I tore away at every inch of its skin, dismantling it from one end to the other until there was nothing left but its fragile bones. Its discarded skin littered the floor, staining the carpet with its blood. Cockroaches scurried in and out of its empty sockets, while termites nibbled at the wood in its final dying breaths. Just as I began to turn away, I noticed something at the center. Stuck between its ribs was a dead canary. The bird's color had faded to gray, its lifeless body consumed from the inside out, its remaining insides shriveled to crumbs.
I cooled myself down with a handful of freezing water from the faucet. When I opened my eyes, I no longer saw the featureless black shape staring back at me. My teeth were intact. The bubble on my tongue had burst, oozing its yellow pus. Its taste was sour, like mustard churning in expired milk.
The faucet continued to leak.
I realized I had forgotten to properly wash my hands. My fingernails were caked with blood and grime. I reasoned that I could do it later, perhaps before I went grocery shopping. You see, I could do everything later.
But right now, all I wanted was sleep.
2024.06.07 00:36 Sp00kyd00d4ever Infinity Blood: Hunt for the Divine
This will be the final chapter I post from my novel! Let me know what you think and if you would like me to continue sharing!
Present day, circa 2007
City of Edenlore
"I'm telling you, I saw him do it! Last night, I drove past that abandoned auto shop, you know, the one by the docks with the twelve-foot fence—he scaled it like it was nothing! He damn near flew over it!" The music in the club was blaring so loudly that he had to lean into his huddled group of friends and gesture with his pointer finger at the man at the far end of the room, leaning against a wall.
He had an air of mystery about him, a slender build, his dark hair nearly covering his eyes, and he was dressed in a black leather jacket over a white long-sleeve dress shirt. He seemed uninterested in the festivities surrounding him. He was occupied.
"You're full of it, dude," one of his friends retorted and shoved him playfully.
"It looked like he was chasing something."
His name was Nathaniel "Nathan" Lumen. Leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, he observed the scene, seemingly aloof.
He watched the dance floor erupt in further exuberance as the lights flickered in rhythm with the bass in a hypnotic sequence. An assortment of colorful lights bounced from every corner of the club. An ocean of hands rose in the air in response to the DJ's call to "raise the roof."
His eyes found their target, an average-looking man caressing a young woman by the small of her back, whispering something into her ear sensually. She giggled. He pulled her in closer. He then began to lure her off the dance floor, through the crowd, and towards the exit. Nathan pursued them closely.
The woman followed the man to an alleyway a couple of streets away from the club. He turned back to look at her, and the look he gave stirred something deep inside her. A word came to mind. Hunger. They had walked a significant distance, and the music grew more muffled the further they retreated into the alley until it was nothing but a whisper.
He pinned her to a wall and began to traverse the entirety of her body with his face. She inhaled deeply. A rush of ecstasy flowed through her. He clutched a handful of her hair in his hand, causing her to moan. His lips were cold as they found their way to the nape of her neck. Suddenly his teeth were no longer those of a human but razor sharp and serrated, covered in saliva.
"Late-night snacking?" a voice called from the shadows. Nathan Lumen stepped forth, hands still in his pants pockets. "It'll be the death of you."
He became a blur of movement, and in an instant, his elbow met the side of the bestial creature's face. It stumbled backward and was swiftly met with a kick that sent it crashing into the wall on the opposite side of the alley. The woman screamed in horror and ran for cover behind a near by dumpster.
"Seriously, your diet could use some work. I mean, I know you're all demon vampires or whatever and all, but your cholesterol has got to be through the roof, right?" He teased the now enraged demon.
"Quite humorous, slayer, but we shall see who is laughing when we tear you to pieces and chew on your hollowed-out bones!" it shouted, tearing free from its host shell, exposing its true appearance.
"We, huh?" He strode over in a confident, swaggering stride toward the monstrous creature.
"Of course! You think I came alone?" it snarled at the slayer like a rabid dog, ready to attack.
"You kidding? I've been waiting to dance all night." He reached into a vest pocket, pulled out a pair of silver knuckles, and slipped them onto each of his hands.
The maligus unleashed a high-pitched screech. The call was returned by several identical howls coming from in the distance, quickly moving closer. From above, two demons swooped down. The hideous hells-pawn now surrounded the slayer, flapping their wings wildly and screeching their terrible screeches.
"You failed to pursue me the other night; you will fail once more! Feast on the infidel!" They began rushing at the slayer, foaming at their mouths.
"Bring it on," he grinned confidently. There wasn't much in this world that gave him as much pleasure as the unbridled thrill of a good fight.
He took a defensive stance. The first demon that lunged at him was met with an uppercut to the chin that sent it up into the air in a diagonal line, his silver knuckle causing it to burst into flames, leaving only a puff of ash in the air. The next swiped at him ferociously with its jagged claw. He dodged the attack and landed a rotating kick that sent it twirling in a circle before he brought down a heavy heel drop at the base of its skull. It crumpled to the floor.
He now turned his focus to the next hellspawn lunging at him. He narrowly avoided its grasp as it attempted to embed its jaw on his right shoulder. Sliding under its legs and across the floor, he granted himself enough distance to run at incredible speed and leap onto the beast, pummeling it relentlessly with a series of powerful blows, each causing the creature to wince and cry out in pain and frustration.
He lifted the creature over his head and hurled it against a large dumpster a good twelve feet away. It writhed in agony, smoke pouring out of its opened wounds. It watched on as the slayer finished off another demon that lay unconscious on the ground, stunned at his skill and ferocity.
It cried out in a shrill, almost pleading voice. Nathan then drew a small dagger from inside his jacket pocket and set it flying with deadly accuracy, impaling the maligus through the chest. With that, it burst into flames and was gone.
The young man stood in the dimly lit alley, making his way to the small dagger now lying on the ground. He bent over, picked it up, and tucked it back under his lapel. A foreboding feeling washed over him, a sensation that had been occurring more frequently over the past few weeks.
A soft whimpering sound pulled his attention toward the bear by dumpster, it was the girl from before. She sat trembling, muttering unintelligible words to herself. Trying to console herself from brink of insanity from which she loomed dangerously near. Such was the curse which befell those humans who were fortunate enough to survive an encounter with the maligus. A fate worst than death was one where one's reality was forever altered by the knowledge of the maligus existence . Over the centuries mankind had grown less and less able to reconcile with this never-ending nightmare.
Nathan came over to her careful to not make any sudden movements for fear he would further damage her already fragile psyche. He gently rested the palm of his hand on to the top of her head. Her trembling body eased to a calmed state before she slipped into a deep sleep.
He removed his hand from atop her head and brought both silver knuckle dusters together with a loud clang to they sent a shower of sparks raining over the sleeping young woman her body glowed a brilliant silver shimmering light which gradually disappeared.
"That'll keep you save through the night. From demons or anyone with bad intentions. You'll feel better when you wake up."
He made his way out of the alley toward the lively city streets of Edenlore. The night was still young, and he had a lot more vanquishing to do before sunbreak; the city never truly slept.
After spending the entirety of the night ridding the city streets of bloodsuckers, the young slayer finally decided it was time to return home. He entered his apartment door, the room was pitch black, and newspaper pages were taped to every window, providing a barricade from any sliver of sunlight. He made his way toward the kitchen and flipped on a light switch.
"Late night, Nate?" a petite young woman greeted him. She was hanging upside down from the kitchen ceiling.
Her name was Sabrina, affectionately called "Rean" by Nathan. Rean was most certainly not like other girls; she was a halfling, a partial bloodsucker.
"Just another Saturday night for Edenlore's favorite vampire hunter. " Nathan replied, using his leg to pull a chair out from underneath the small aluminum kitchen table. He sat down, removing one silver knuckle and dropping it on the table with a heavy thud.
"You mean Edenlore's one and only vampire hunter," the young woman retorted with a laugh, still suspended from the ceiling. He removed the other knuckle with another thud. "Same thing, and to top it off after I polished off a couple of those freak I had to mind wipe a few civilians." he groaned, throwing his legs up and resting them on the table. Both silver knuckles were adorned with Catholic imagery, and the words "ego te absolvo" were inscribed along each side, hardly visible through dried blood and grime.
" Oh, la la look at all that blood! My my my fun fun night looks like to me!" She landed upright on the kitchen floor, leaning in to better observe the blood-smeared tools.
She was a petite, jittery young thing with wiry red clumps of hair standing every which way, her eyes large, the deepest of turquoise. She turned her focus from the stained silver knuckles and smiled a wild, wide-toothed smile, her one fanged tooth protruding on the left side of her mouth.
"You're looking a little too intensely at those things, Rean." She's acting manic again. "Guessing you're ready to eat?" He stood and walked over to a pantry door sealed with several locks.
" Oh yeees starving! Why can't you just leave me the key, huh? Having to wait for you to come home every morning is torture!" She danced a mournful sort of dance on her way to the living room couch and let herself fall onto it in an overly dramatic fashion.
"And come home to you gorging yourself on a week's worth of my blood? I don't think so." He unlocked the many padlocks and latches. Inside was a large, chrome industrial freezer. He reached into the freezer and pulled out two blood bags. He tossed one to Rean, who caught it and began to feed.
She punctured one bag using her pointed tooth and began to suck on it, then moved on to the next. After she was done, there was a tonal change to her voice. What was once the voice and mannerisms of a hyperactive child now became more serious and tranquil.
"I can't keep cooped up like this forever. I feel like I'm going insane. Why the sudden need for me to stay in? You and I both know I'm able to fend off my hunger when we're out in public," she slumped back into the dull gray couch, nestling both hands between its cushions.
"I know, but we just got to play it safe for now, Rean. Something's different. Something feels off lately. Don't worry, it won't be forever. I promise. I'll try not to come home as late." he reassured her, handing her another bag. She sighed and took it from his hand.
Nathan nodded off on the couch for the remainder of the day. He had become accustomed to spending almost every night out until the first light of daybreak, and so he would spend the remaining day catching up on much-needed rest. He awoke precisely at midnight to an overwhelming feeling of unease. He walked into the kitchen for a cold glass of water, set the glass down near the sink, and stared out the kitchen window.
"Is everything alright?" Rean asked, her voice tinged with concern. Nathan didn't answer; he simply continued to stare out the window. He moved toward the kitchen door, which led to the balcony. In the far distance, a sliver of luminescence began to appear in the night sky, a tearing of some sort like that of a knife piercing through a thin sheet and then being pulled apart. The tear began to expand, letting more light through.
"Stay here, I'll be back," he said abruptly. With one swift motion, Nathan propelled himself off the balcony, landing on the ground below, and began bolting toward the phenomenon hanging in the sky.
The tear above had begun to split open even further, igniting the night sky over the city. Everyone who witnessed it was caught in a trance of astonishment. As the rift widened, every light in the city would brighten exponentially, dim, and then suddenly cease, leaving the city caught in a shroud of darkness.
Then, something began to emerge from within the rift. A cluster of high-pitched shrieks began to amplify, growing louder. And then came the thundering sound of a hundred flapping wings. Before long, the night sky was filled with swarming flocks of demons.
They began to descend upon the city, and panic ensued as they began attacking citizens. Many were carried off, others were pinned to the ground as they were feasted on, and the streets erupted into pandemonium.
submitted by Sp00kyd00d4ever to Write_Right [link] [comments]
Present day, circa 2007
City of Edenlore
"I'm telling you, I saw him do it! Last night, I drove past that abandoned auto shop, you know, the one by the docks with the twelve-foot fence—he scaled it like it was nothing! He damn near flew over it!" The music in the club was blaring so loudly that he had to lean into his huddled group of friends and gesture with his pointer finger at the man at the far end of the room, leaning against a wall.
He had an air of mystery about him, a slender build, his dark hair nearly covering his eyes, and he was dressed in a black leather jacket over a white long-sleeve dress shirt. He seemed uninterested in the festivities surrounding him. He was occupied.
"You're full of it, dude," one of his friends retorted and shoved him playfully.
"It looked like he was chasing something."
His name was Nathaniel "Nathan" Lumen. Leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, he observed the scene, seemingly aloof.
He watched the dance floor erupt in further exuberance as the lights flickered in rhythm with the bass in a hypnotic sequence. An assortment of colorful lights bounced from every corner of the club. An ocean of hands rose in the air in response to the DJ's call to "raise the roof."
His eyes found their target, an average-looking man caressing a young woman by the small of her back, whispering something into her ear sensually. She giggled. He pulled her in closer. He then began to lure her off the dance floor, through the crowd, and towards the exit. Nathan pursued them closely.
The woman followed the man to an alleyway a couple of streets away from the club. He turned back to look at her, and the look he gave stirred something deep inside her. A word came to mind. Hunger. They had walked a significant distance, and the music grew more muffled the further they retreated into the alley until it was nothing but a whisper.
He pinned her to a wall and began to traverse the entirety of her body with his face. She inhaled deeply. A rush of ecstasy flowed through her. He clutched a handful of her hair in his hand, causing her to moan. His lips were cold as they found their way to the nape of her neck. Suddenly his teeth were no longer those of a human but razor sharp and serrated, covered in saliva.
"Late-night snacking?" a voice called from the shadows. Nathan Lumen stepped forth, hands still in his pants pockets. "It'll be the death of you."
He became a blur of movement, and in an instant, his elbow met the side of the bestial creature's face. It stumbled backward and was swiftly met with a kick that sent it crashing into the wall on the opposite side of the alley. The woman screamed in horror and ran for cover behind a near by dumpster.
"Seriously, your diet could use some work. I mean, I know you're all demon vampires or whatever and all, but your cholesterol has got to be through the roof, right?" He teased the now enraged demon.
"Quite humorous, slayer, but we shall see who is laughing when we tear you to pieces and chew on your hollowed-out bones!" it shouted, tearing free from its host shell, exposing its true appearance.
"We, huh?" He strode over in a confident, swaggering stride toward the monstrous creature.
"Of course! You think I came alone?" it snarled at the slayer like a rabid dog, ready to attack.
"You kidding? I've been waiting to dance all night." He reached into a vest pocket, pulled out a pair of silver knuckles, and slipped them onto each of his hands.
The maligus unleashed a high-pitched screech. The call was returned by several identical howls coming from in the distance, quickly moving closer. From above, two demons swooped down. The hideous hells-pawn now surrounded the slayer, flapping their wings wildly and screeching their terrible screeches.
"You failed to pursue me the other night; you will fail once more! Feast on the infidel!" They began rushing at the slayer, foaming at their mouths.
"Bring it on," he grinned confidently. There wasn't much in this world that gave him as much pleasure as the unbridled thrill of a good fight.
He took a defensive stance. The first demon that lunged at him was met with an uppercut to the chin that sent it up into the air in a diagonal line, his silver knuckle causing it to burst into flames, leaving only a puff of ash in the air. The next swiped at him ferociously with its jagged claw. He dodged the attack and landed a rotating kick that sent it twirling in a circle before he brought down a heavy heel drop at the base of its skull. It crumpled to the floor.
He now turned his focus to the next hellspawn lunging at him. He narrowly avoided its grasp as it attempted to embed its jaw on his right shoulder. Sliding under its legs and across the floor, he granted himself enough distance to run at incredible speed and leap onto the beast, pummeling it relentlessly with a series of powerful blows, each causing the creature to wince and cry out in pain and frustration.
He lifted the creature over his head and hurled it against a large dumpster a good twelve feet away. It writhed in agony, smoke pouring out of its opened wounds. It watched on as the slayer finished off another demon that lay unconscious on the ground, stunned at his skill and ferocity.
It cried out in a shrill, almost pleading voice. Nathan then drew a small dagger from inside his jacket pocket and set it flying with deadly accuracy, impaling the maligus through the chest. With that, it burst into flames and was gone.
The young man stood in the dimly lit alley, making his way to the small dagger now lying on the ground. He bent over, picked it up, and tucked it back under his lapel. A foreboding feeling washed over him, a sensation that had been occurring more frequently over the past few weeks.
A soft whimpering sound pulled his attention toward the bear by dumpster, it was the girl from before. She sat trembling, muttering unintelligible words to herself. Trying to console herself from brink of insanity from which she loomed dangerously near. Such was the curse which befell those humans who were fortunate enough to survive an encounter with the maligus. A fate worst than death was one where one's reality was forever altered by the knowledge of the maligus existence . Over the centuries mankind had grown less and less able to reconcile with this never-ending nightmare.
Nathan came over to her careful to not make any sudden movements for fear he would further damage her already fragile psyche. He gently rested the palm of his hand on to the top of her head. Her trembling body eased to a calmed state before she slipped into a deep sleep.
He removed his hand from atop her head and brought both silver knuckle dusters together with a loud clang to they sent a shower of sparks raining over the sleeping young woman her body glowed a brilliant silver shimmering light which gradually disappeared.
"That'll keep you save through the night. From demons or anyone with bad intentions. You'll feel better when you wake up."
He made his way out of the alley toward the lively city streets of Edenlore. The night was still young, and he had a lot more vanquishing to do before sunbreak; the city never truly slept.
After spending the entirety of the night ridding the city streets of bloodsuckers, the young slayer finally decided it was time to return home. He entered his apartment door, the room was pitch black, and newspaper pages were taped to every window, providing a barricade from any sliver of sunlight. He made his way toward the kitchen and flipped on a light switch.
"Late night, Nate?" a petite young woman greeted him. She was hanging upside down from the kitchen ceiling.
Her name was Sabrina, affectionately called "Rean" by Nathan. Rean was most certainly not like other girls; she was a halfling, a partial bloodsucker.
"Just another Saturday night for Edenlore's favorite vampire hunter. " Nathan replied, using his leg to pull a chair out from underneath the small aluminum kitchen table. He sat down, removing one silver knuckle and dropping it on the table with a heavy thud.
"You mean Edenlore's one and only vampire hunter," the young woman retorted with a laugh, still suspended from the ceiling. He removed the other knuckle with another thud. "Same thing, and to top it off after I polished off a couple of those freak I had to mind wipe a few civilians." he groaned, throwing his legs up and resting them on the table. Both silver knuckles were adorned with Catholic imagery, and the words "ego te absolvo" were inscribed along each side, hardly visible through dried blood and grime.
" Oh, la la look at all that blood! My my my fun fun night looks like to me!" She landed upright on the kitchen floor, leaning in to better observe the blood-smeared tools.
She was a petite, jittery young thing with wiry red clumps of hair standing every which way, her eyes large, the deepest of turquoise. She turned her focus from the stained silver knuckles and smiled a wild, wide-toothed smile, her one fanged tooth protruding on the left side of her mouth.
"You're looking a little too intensely at those things, Rean." She's acting manic again. "Guessing you're ready to eat?" He stood and walked over to a pantry door sealed with several locks.
" Oh yeees starving! Why can't you just leave me the key, huh? Having to wait for you to come home every morning is torture!" She danced a mournful sort of dance on her way to the living room couch and let herself fall onto it in an overly dramatic fashion.
"And come home to you gorging yourself on a week's worth of my blood? I don't think so." He unlocked the many padlocks and latches. Inside was a large, chrome industrial freezer. He reached into the freezer and pulled out two blood bags. He tossed one to Rean, who caught it and began to feed.
She punctured one bag using her pointed tooth and began to suck on it, then moved on to the next. After she was done, there was a tonal change to her voice. What was once the voice and mannerisms of a hyperactive child now became more serious and tranquil.
"I can't keep cooped up like this forever. I feel like I'm going insane. Why the sudden need for me to stay in? You and I both know I'm able to fend off my hunger when we're out in public," she slumped back into the dull gray couch, nestling both hands between its cushions.
"I know, but we just got to play it safe for now, Rean. Something's different. Something feels off lately. Don't worry, it won't be forever. I promise. I'll try not to come home as late." he reassured her, handing her another bag. She sighed and took it from his hand.
Nathan nodded off on the couch for the remainder of the day. He had become accustomed to spending almost every night out until the first light of daybreak, and so he would spend the remaining day catching up on much-needed rest. He awoke precisely at midnight to an overwhelming feeling of unease. He walked into the kitchen for a cold glass of water, set the glass down near the sink, and stared out the kitchen window.
"Is everything alright?" Rean asked, her voice tinged with concern. Nathan didn't answer; he simply continued to stare out the window. He moved toward the kitchen door, which led to the balcony. In the far distance, a sliver of luminescence began to appear in the night sky, a tearing of some sort like that of a knife piercing through a thin sheet and then being pulled apart. The tear began to expand, letting more light through.
"Stay here, I'll be back," he said abruptly. With one swift motion, Nathan propelled himself off the balcony, landing on the ground below, and began bolting toward the phenomenon hanging in the sky.
The tear above had begun to split open even further, igniting the night sky over the city. Everyone who witnessed it was caught in a trance of astonishment. As the rift widened, every light in the city would brighten exponentially, dim, and then suddenly cease, leaving the city caught in a shroud of darkness.
Then, something began to emerge from within the rift. A cluster of high-pitched shrieks began to amplify, growing louder. And then came the thundering sound of a hundred flapping wings. Before long, the night sky was filled with swarming flocks of demons.
They began to descend upon the city, and panic ensued as they began attacking citizens. Many were carried off, others were pinned to the ground as they were feasted on, and the streets erupted into pandemonium.
2024.06.06 22:13 Ben_Elohim_2020 The Nature of Family: Birth of a Fanatic [One-shot]
Thank you to:
u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.
u/blankxlate, author of Sweet Vengeance, for proofreading.
u/EdibleGojid, author of Dark Cuts, for proofreading.
EmClear, aspiring author, for proofreading
You, the reader, for your support.
Please consider reading the works of my proofreaders as they’re all authors of excellent stories and be sure to check the links below for more of my work and beautiful art from members of the community.
[Nature of Family Master List]
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The Nature of Family: Birth of a Fanatic
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Memory transcription subject: Intalran, Krakotl Civilian (Age 7)
Date [standardised human time]: February 9th, 2124
A loud boom in the distance wakes me from my restless sleep. Somewhere out there in the city another bomb has gone off, another battle fought, another life taken too soon by the monsters from the stars. I don’t know why this is happening, why they’ve come here, or why they want to hurt us so badly… Maybe that's just how they are? A senseless evil that needs no reason besides the simple fact that they can. What I do know is that mom and dad are scared. They’ve been putting up a brave face, trying not to pass along their fears to my big brother and I, but I can tell that something is deeply, deeply wrong.
Just one week ago everything had been right with the world. Everything had been fine, peaceful, boring even. I’d heard stories of the predators of course, I’d been raised on them and taught the lessons that every young chick is taught, warned of the dangers out there in the wider universe that prey upon our kind. Somehow it had always seemed so far off, so distant. The stories were something that wasn't quite real. They were something that happened to someone else, not here, not to my home, not to my family, not to me. That all changed with the day the raid sirens began their call.
It had been an ordinary day before it happened, warm and sunny with hardly a cloud in the sky and the sweet smell of flowers drifting along with the cool breeze. Akrim and I had just gotten back from a visit to the local park. I had been pestering him relentlessly to go out and play with me, to not waste away the entire season cooped up inside, and he had finally relented, pulling himself away from his studies for long enough to take me. Mom was waiting for us back at home when we arrived, tending to her garden and whistling along to the radio as she worked. She wasted no time in enlisting our help once she spotted us, but I didn't mind. Mom made gardening fun, and I like singing along to the music on the station with her. The songs stopped mid-way as I was talon-deep in weeds, ripping up the pesky invaders, to broadcast an elevated risk advisory. Mom listened attentively to the message before changing the channel to a different station. I didn't think anything of it at the time.
The first time I noticed something was off was when Dad came home from work earlier than normal that evening. He made all the usual gestures, an affectionate embrace with Mom as he came through the door, a pat on the back for Akrim, and a ruffle of my head feathers as he passed me by, but something felt wrong. There was a tension in him, a stress that underpinned his every action, something unspoken that gnawed at the back of his mind. Something he didn't wish to burden his children with.
I could hear Mom and Dad discussing their worries later that evening, after they’d sent Akrim and I down to roost so early that the sun hadn’t even set yet. Not long after I’d caught Akrim leaving his room, gliding down the hall on silent wings, and after a brief discussion joined him in his mission. The two of us crept down the stairs like a pair of thieves, listening attentively as we spied on our parents. The two of them huddled around the holovision, fixated on the local news broadcast, and Mom seemed on the verge of tears, shaking with every word as my Dad comforted her. I couldn't understand what the broadcaster was saying, but I could tell it wasn't good. At my brother's insistence we returned to our room, the look on his face filling me with dread.
The sirens themselves came in the dead of night, a shrill, haunting wail that made me shiver and shake. I'd heard them before during the usual tests and drills, everyone had, but this time felt somehow different. More real. The mechanical cry seemed almost like a living thing, some monster in the dead of night that had come to take me for its meal. In truth, that wasn't so far off.
Akrim was out of bed in a moment, shooing me downstairs while Mom and Dad pulled out backpacks loaded with supplies, preparing us and themselves for a long journey away from home. An adventure they called it. Everyone knew the right thing to do was to rush to the local shelter as fast as you could, hoping to beat the crowd and get in before they sealed it shut, hoping not to get crushed in the middle of a stampede.
My Dad felt differently, and perhaps that was a good thing. The monsters breached the shelter doors two days ago now. We could hear the explosion and the screams all the way from our hideout. My brother told me not to expect to see any of my friends or neighbours who went there seeking safety ever again. I hope he’s wrong, but I know he isn’t.
We travelled in the opposite direction of the shelter, avoiding the rest of the herd and the ensuing stampede, running ever onward even as my feet began to ache and my lungs began to burn. At last, when I felt I could run no further, we stopped, taking refuge in an abandoned building in the old historical district. A place to hide away from the crowds and the city centre. A place where we wouldn't be found… hopefully.
Strange ships flew down from the night sky, angular and alien in design, the ships of the monsters. They came like lightning, fast and deadly, destroying everything in sight with casual cruelty, but that was only the beginning. Larger vessels followed soon after, swarming with the giant grey beasts. Cattle ships.
From the elevated vantage point inside our shelter I could see them, spreading out like a plague across the city, ravaging everything and everyone in sight, dragging them back towards those ships, never to be seen again. Mom covered my eyes and dragged me away from the windows, telling me to stay quiet and hide before I could see what they did to the ones they captured, but I remember the stories. I know what happens.
I shudder at the thought and a chill breeze drifts in through the shattered window, cutting right through the thin survival blanket as I pull it even more tightly around my shoulders.
“Can’t sleep?” My brother asks, gently rubbing my back with a wing as he tries to comfort me.
“No.” I answer, looking out at the remains of the ruined city through clouded glass. “Do… Do you think that sound was the Exterminators coming to rescue us?” I ask with trepidation, already knowing the answer.
My brother just sighs and pulls me into a hug.
“I don’t think so.” He says remorsefully. “According to the emergency broadcasts the frontlines are still being fought on the other side of the city. It’ll be days until they reach us… If they reach us…”
“What are we gonna do?” I hold back tears, trying to be brave like Mom and Dad as I look out at the sporadic twinkle of weapons-fire illuminating the night on the horizon, so close and yet so far away.
“I don’t know, Intalran,” he says wistfully, “I don’t know.”
“Akrim!” My Father enters into the room, angrily chastising my brother. “Don’t say that to your brother! Everything will be just fine! There’s no need to make him cry!”
“I’m not crying…” I protest with tears in my eyes, unheard or perhaps simply ignored.
“I’m not going to lie to him, Dad!” Akrim shouts back. “Look around! Nothing is fine. Nothing…”
Mom gets up from the back, waking from her own fitful dreams to comfort her distressed chicks. She wraps her wings around both of us, swaddling us in her embrace.
“Please,” she says softly, “now isn’t the time to argue. All we have to do is wait here and have faith. The Exterminators will come. Intala will deliver us from this evil. She won’t allow the innocent chicks of her flock to come to harm. You just need to believe.”
“Ok…” I go along with my Mom’s words and she gives a small trill in response, squeezing us ever tighter as she nuzzles us, but in my heart… I don’t know if I believe it.
If Intala really cared about us then why would she have let any of this happen to begin with? What about all the other chicks out there in the city? What about the ones that were inside the shelter? Why would Intala allow anyone to suffer? Why would she allow the monsters to exist at all? Is it that Intala can’t help us? Is it that she doesn’t actually care? Or could it be that Intala isn’t even real…?
My stomach rumbles out a tortured groan, more concerned with the needs of the material than the spiritual.
“Do… Do we still have any food left?” I ask aloud, bringing about a look of shame from both my parents' faces.
“I’m sorry, Son,” My father looks away, “but we ran out yesterday. It’s all my fault. I should have packed more into the bags. I should have rationed better. I should have… I… I… ”
Mom gets up and embraces dad in a hug, quieting his regretful ramblings.
“It’s alright, Love.” She soothes his restless spirit with a simple word in the way only she can. “You’ve done the best you could. We’re all still here because of you. We’ll be ok. We’ll make it through this. Intala provides.”
“Actually…” my brother interjects, rising from his seat and walking over towards his bedding, “I still have a little bit of food leftover from my last meal. I knew we were running out, so I wanted to save it, just in case we needed it later,” from under his pillow he pulls a small, ripened juicefruit, “but here. You can have it, Intalran.”
“Really? I ask as he presses the last of our precious food reserves into my open wings. “What about you though? What are you gonna eat?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m not even hungry.” His lie is as plain as could be. We’re all hungry and we all need food, but no one calls him out on it. “You need it more than I do.” He insists.
“Maybe we could split it?” I suggest.
I look over to my parents, seeking their guidance to help absolve me of my guilt. Instead they just look on expectantly, happy to watch me eat the entire juicefruit myself.
“Intala provides.” My Mom intones with appreciation. “Make sure you enjoy it. It might be the last thing you get to eat for a little while.”
I look down at the plump and delectable looking fruit, still feeling a smidge guilty for ‘stealing’ the last of our food for myself.
“Thank you, Akrim.” I say before digging my beak into the tart flesh of the fruit, sucking out the sweet juices within that give the tasty treat its name.
While I munch away at the fruit, taking my time to appreciate every sip and bite, Akrim peers out the window down to the streets below.
“Hey, Dad?” He asks, pointing down towards a pack of the monsters roaming below, splitting off into groups to search the nearby buildings. “I think we might have a problem…”
My dad walks over and peers down himself, pulling Akrim back from the window.
“Damn!” He curses under his breath. “They’re searching the buildings again. Everyone away from the windows, we need to get somewhere more secure. Move!”
“Maybe this is a good sign?” My mother suggests as she quickly packs up our meagre belongings, removing any trace of our brief residence. “If they’re doing a final sweep of the city that must mean they’re getting ready to leave soon.”
“Maybe,” Dad answers, “but that won’t matter one bit if they find us before they do.”
Hurrying us along, my Dad begins moving us out of the open space that had become our living quarters in the past few days and back towards the hidden room upstairs. As we mount the stairs I can hear it down below, the loud crunch of a door being ripped off its hinges followed by the weighty footfall of a pack of massive predators.
“They’re in the building!” Akrim whispers. “Hurry!”
Try as I might, my little legs can only run so fast and the sound of the monsters behind us only gets louder and louder with each passing moment as they begin making their way upstairs. Not content with my pace, Dad picks me up and holds me in his wings, carrying me the rest of the way up the stairs to the special room. Inside is nothing more than a small study with old dusty furniture, a sturdy desk, a couple of archaic bookshelves, and a storage closet. Opening up the closet, he presses against the back panel allowing it to swing free, revealing a small, barren room barely big enough to stand in with a single tiny ventilation window to let air in from the outside.
Akrim rushes into the hideaway at once while Dad puts me down.
“Inside!” he urges me. “Quickly and quietly before-”
AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!
Before he can finish speaking Dad’s words are cut off by a pained scream that makes all our feathers ruffle, that of a woman. With a final, remorseful glance back at us, he discretely shuts the hidden panel once more and turns around to face his destiny, placing himself between us and the invaders. We watch helplessly from just outside, through the slit where the panel fails to make flush with the frame.
The door to the study is open and inside is a terrifying beast out of a nightmare. Its body is huge, towering over Dad at over twice his height, so large that it needs to duck and hunch just to fit inside the room. Dull grey scales cover the entirety of its body, covering a lean and famished physique, taut with tension and decorated by a multitude of pink scar tissue across its arms and chest. Terrible clawed hands and feet grip the doorway and floor respectively, digging in and splitting the wood with the causal weight of their power. Hideous binocular eyes stare down ravenously, savouring the taste of blood and envisioning the sadistic joys to come. In its long, toothy snout it holds aloft the form of my Mom, still alive and squirming in pain as her wing is held trapped in its jaws by the shoulder. It flexes the muscles in its mouth, biting down harder with a crunch of splintering bone that causes Mom to flail anew.
AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!
Dad stands on shaky feet, barely able to remain upright as he faces down such a horrific monstrosity and watches the love of his life writhe in agony. He unfurls his wings and raises them high overhead in a magnificent threat display, irrevocably weakened by the nervous chattering of his beak and the tears in his eyes.
The great beast almost seems to laugh, a low rumbling chuckle emanating from its massive chest, mocking and taking enjoyment from Dads valiant challenge. It begins shaking its head side to side in a violent, rolling motion, yanking Mom to and from in its jaws like a rag-doll, ripping muscle and displacing bone as she cries.
“Caaaaaaawwwww!” Dad lets out a primal screech of rage, unable to simply stand by and watch any longer.
He leaps into the air, his wings beating powerfully as he throws himself at the Arxur with talons outstretched and thirsting for the blood of vengeance.
The monster bats him aside with hardly a care, striking him in the side with an enormous clawed hand that batters him to the floor and tears open his side at the ribs, leaving his lacerated innards free to slowly spill and ooze out onto the floor. A mixture of shock and pain fills his face as he lays there, slowly bleeding out from his mortal wound, and his unseeing eyes lock with mine as I peer through the slit.
Grief and rage threaten to overwhelm me, forcibly pulling at the strings of my heart so harshly that I fear they may break. Tears flow freely from my eyes and a rising shriek of anger begins to build in my throat. I open my beak to scream… And my brother clamps it shut with a wing. I struggle and flail in his embrace, fighting him at every opportunity, too maddened by my own sorrows to think clearly, but when I look up to face him… I can see the tears flowing from his eyes as well.
I can’t keep doing this. I need to be smart. I need to be brave. Like Akrim. Like Dad…
I stop resisting and allow my body to go limp. Akrim refuses to let go, supporting me as I slump down. Our trials are far from over however as the wet, rending sound of peeling flesh pierces through the door, followed by more screaming and a heavy thud on the floor.
Peering back into the room, Mom lays beside Dad on the ground, her left wing completely ripped off at the shoulder and a ragged gorge running down her chest exposing her ribs.
“Oh Intala, who art in heaven, deliver us from evil and grant us peace.” Mom chokes out her prayers through a blood-filled beak, delirious with pain and almost trance-like as she repeats her memorised verses over and over again. “Rain fire upon the predator so that they may be cleansed, and lead your flock towards salvation. Smite those who would harm your chicks with righteous fury, for they are your blessing and our light. Oh Intala, who art in heaven…”
The Arxur cares not for their pain, their suffering, or their prayers. It reaches down with callous indifference and plants a foot on the small of Dads back, grabbing his ankle with a hand, and pulls.
AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!
Dad screams as his body is slowly pulled apart by the brute's otherworldly strength, his ligaments and tendons unable to fight against such insurmountable force. His leg dislocates from his hip with an audible pop before the muscle gives way and shears off at the thigh in ragged strands. The beast raises the leg of my father to its mouth and takes a bite, overcome with ecstasy and pleasure as Dad wails in agony and mother continues in her fevered prayers.
I don’t know how much more I can take. My entire body is shaking and I feel as though I’m about to pass out, my head growing light from the sheer horror of it all. This doesn’t feel real, but even in my worst nightmares I could never conceive of something so atrocious. I can’t pass out though. The rage and hatred burning inside is too strong for that. The call for blood, for vengeance, too much to ignore.
The Arxur, not content to simply enjoy what suffering it has already inflicted, casts aside the torn leg and returns for more. Dad’s second leg comes off much as the first, with no less screaming or agony. I feel so helpless and weak, so cowardly for hiding by and simply watching it happen, but there’s nothing I can do. Beside me, Akrim shakes and twitches in empathy, his ragged breathing and hateful eyes a match for my own.
At long last dad goes still, his ravaged body unable to sustain itself with so much blood strewn about the floor, and the predator turns its sights to Mom. Flipping her over to expose her front, it inspects its handiwork, Mom’s chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow rhythm as her body fights to stay alive. Her eyes are blank as she stares sightlessly up towards the ceiling, but her soft yet fervent prayers continue to reverberate. This seems to displease the monster.
With a sudden snap of its jaws it plunges its snout into the hole at my mothers side, digging around inside for delicate morsels to snatch and steal from her chest cavity. Shaking her body about and tugging with all its might, the Arxur rips free its prize, a fresh pair of lungs, and my mothers voice goes silent for the final time.
My stomach finally gives out at the sight of it, half digested bits of juicefruit spilling forth from my mouth as I keel over… and the Arxur takes notice. It stops in the midst of its blood frenzy, its joyful mutilation of my parents' still warm bodies, to look over towards the closet, over at me.
Akrim sees it coming and drags me to my feet.
“We need to get out of here now!” He shouts, stealth no longer an option. “Out the window!”
At the sound of my brothers voice the Arxur charges, crashing through the hidden panel and reducing it to splinters, but it’s too late. Akrim and I are already through the ventilation window and floating down to the streets below on our wings. The beast shoots a clawed hand out the tiny window, but to no avail, snatching only air as it narrowly misses me.
“The cattle are escaping!” It roars in its vile, guttural tongue. “Capture them!”
We land with a start on the streets below, taking off as fast as we can to who-knows-where as reptilian, binocular eyes lean out to peer down on us from the surrounding building and feral roars fill the air. I don’t know where we’re going, I don’t know what we hope to accomplish by it, but all I know is that I need to keep moving, keep running as hard and fast as I can. Away from the hideout, away from the predators, away from my parents, and away from the horrors. Sadly, as much as the mind may be willing, the body may not be able. Especially when that body is half-starved from days of subsistence rations.
I trip and fall, skinning my knee on the pavement and drawing blood. Just one more means for the monsters to track us. Ahead of me Akrim continues to run, further and further away.
“Akrim!” I cry out tearfully. “Don’t leave me!”
Akrim halts at once, realising for the first time that I’ve fallen and rushes back to me.
“I’m not gonna leave you.” He says, picking me up and holding me in his arms as he continues to run. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise. We only have each other now, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone take you away from me!”
Behind us I can see the predators gaining on us, my weight only slowing Akrim down as he gasps and wheezes, his body overheating and struggling to replace the air in his lungs as we continue our harried retreat.
We emerge into an open plaza, strewn with abandoned vehicles and rubble, a once beautiful place now reduced to little more than an open-air graveyard. In the centre stands a statue of a Krakotl, rising in flight and surrounded by flames yet miraculously unburned, a monument to Intala. It is covered in soot and ash, blemished by battlefield scars and cracked in places, yet still shines with the warm glint of bronze.
The Arxur emerge on the other end of the street and we turn to run away only to find our next path blocked, again and again and again. We’ve been trapped, cornered and with nowhere left to run. This is the end for us. Visions of my parents' deaths flash through my mind, slowly torn limb from limb while still alive, still in agony. I don’t want to die like that.
Akrim backs us into a small corner and sets me down, placing himself between me and the ravenous pack bearing down on us.
“Close your eyes, Intalran.” He says, tears running down his face. “Don’t look. It’ll all be over soon. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better brother.”
He takes up a threat display, small and weak compared to the monstrosities that slowly encircle us, yet undaunted. So brave, so much like Dad.
“Caaaaawwwww!” He screams out with defiance, and I know for certain that it is the last I’ll ever hear of my brother.
I gaze up at the shrine of Intala, my mind racing with prayers more desperate than any I’d ever had before, begging for salvation, begging for forgiveness, begging… for a miracle.
Oh Intala, why have you forsaken us? Why did you allow them to take my parents? Why are you going to allow them to take my brother? Why are you going to let them take me? What have I done wrong in your eyes? What did my Mother, my Father, my Brother, what did any of us do to displease you? Whatever it is, I'm sorry! I’m sorry I’ve been a bad son! I’m sorry I’ve been a bad brother! I’m sorry I doubted you! I’m sorry! But please! Please don’t let this happen! Take me if you have to, but don’t let them hurt Akrim! I beg you! Save us! Deliver us! Smite the predator with righteous fire and cleanse us of our sin! I promise, I’ll make it up to you! I’ll never doubt again! Never stray from your path again! Please!
I fall to the ground, sobbing, inconsolable… and my prayers are answered with a roar of thunder that splits the sky.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt! Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt! Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!
Pavement stones shatter all around us, sending fragments of shrapnel everywhere, and causing the Arxur to break off their hunt to flee for cover. Gazing up I can see them coming over the horizon, silhouetted against the rising light of dawn. Three Federation troop carriers, descending upon us with their mounted shard cannons letting loose a storm of righteous fury against the enemy. The Exterminators had arrived.
The Arxur return fire from their shadowy alcoves and pitiful shelter, but it’s no use against the shining ships of intalas wrath. They halt over the plaza, their propulsion jets rotating for vertical landing as they hover over the ruined streets. Wires drop to dangle free from the shuttles, and out of them emerges Intala’s angels, avatars of her divine will garbed in luminous chrome and wielding the instruments of her vengeance. They rappel one after another down the lines, letting loose with fire and shard as they make their landfall upon the blasphemous heathens that encroach upon Intala’s world.
A lone figure rises above all others, a strong and heroic champion whose uniform is sanctified with the purest of gold. In his hands he holds aloft a massive, rotary shardgun with twin-linked barrels, a marvel of engineering and a sacred armament whose weight and power could be borne by no lesser man. It sings out a chorus of destruction, planting seeds of death in all those who meet its gaze as the Champion mounts the steps to the shrine, placing himself at the head of the assault.
Shards fly and fire reigns as the monsters are pushed back. The Champion’s helmet is struck free from his face, leaving him unharmed but revealing a most surprising sight, a figure I’d never have expected to see.
He is a Venlil, the weakest and most cowardly of all the races, but this man is the exception that proves the rule. His wool is as black as night, as black as the void of space itself, and upon his face rests the unwavering eyes of a ruthless and righteously ordained killer, unerring in his focus and possessed of a divine will. He sweeps the battlements with his weapon, letting forth a whirlwind of death and dropping predatory bodies by the dozens as his shots unerringly find their mark, spilling free pools of crimson blood.
He remains steady and unwavering, the chaos of the battlefield engulfing him fully as he reaps the souls of the sinners, but not a single shot can find him as he stands before Intala, the light of the morning sun a halo surrounding his head. This man was no mere champion, but a Herald of divine justice, an avatar of death itself summoned forth by Intala herself to enact her will upon the blasphemous and the unworthy. All those who would sow terror in the heart of her flock would soon find that terror returned to them tenfold.
“Drive them to the sea and drown them in their own blood!” The Herald orders his men with unbridled conviction, rousing them to further glory. “For your homes! For your people! For the Federation!”
He raises a fist with infectious zeal, firing his machine gun one-handed and heralding the dawn of hope, the end to the ceaseless nightmare. His cries are echoed on the wind by his followers, a roar of fury and vengeance that will not go unheard.
“For the Federation!”
“For The Protector!”
“For Nishtal!”
“For Intala!”
One of the angels approaches my brother and I, an elaborate emblem upon his shoulder of an Arxur skull, pierced clean through with an elongated dagger and wreathed in purifying flame.
“Civilians located and secure,” he transmits over his headset, “proceeding with extermination of hostile force, over.”
I get up on shaking feet and approach the angel in chrome, shivering and shaking in the bask of their glory, unworthy to even look upon them yet compelled to do nothing else.
“Who… Who is that?” I dare to ask, casting single wing towards the Herald as he slowly walks away, chasing the monsters out of sight, out of our city, back down to the depths of damnation where they may fester and rot, burning for all time yet to come in the radiance of Intalas majesty.
“Prestige Officer Glagrig.” The angel deigns to answer my question. “It was his damn idea to lead a deep-strike operation behind enemy lines in the first place.”
His tone is gruff and unfriendly, but how could I expect anything else? I am bothering him during his work, distracting him from his sacred task, given to him by Intala herself, though he may not realise it. I’m honoured that he chooses to speak with me at all.
I look out, watching with rapt attention as the figure of Intala’s Herald, my saviour, Prestige Officer Glagrig, vanishes from sight. I will remember that name, and I will fulfil my promise to Intala. Someday… Someday I’ll be just like him.
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A/N - I hope you’ve all enjoyed this thrilling look into the origins of Intalran and I hope it helps shed a bit more light on his character. If you haven’t done so in a while I would highly recommend you check out the Master List linked at the top of the page for everything Nature of Family. The list is regularly updated so even if you’ve checked it before there might be something new that you’ve missed. Recent additions include Children of the Grave, an Empty Eyes story about Trilvri’s time as a Cadet in the Penitents, and The Duskwall Shadestalker, a wonderful (and now cannon) Ficnapping by VeryUnluckyDice himself.
I’ve been having a lot of fun with these one-shots lately and I haven’t quite decided what I want to work on next. Chapter 19 of NoF is of course a priority, but I’ve also got some other great ideas floating around including a new multi-part Empty Eyes adventure, an Alfonse origin story (among other origin stories), a ‘Playing By Ear’ style music-focused Empty Eyes one-shot which Dice has been kind enough to offer assistance with, a sequel to The Duskwall Shadestalker, and even a barely fleshed-out concept for a bit of a Rom-Com. If any of that sounds particularly interesting to you or if there’s anything you really want to see or learn more about in the future please let me know in the comments. I won’t promise anything, and at the end of the day I’ll write whatever I’m inspired to write, but if there’s enough demand I may be swayed in one direction or another.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!
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u/SpacePaladin15 for creating the Nature of Predators universe.
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[Nature of Family Master List]
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The Nature of Family: Birth of a Fanatic
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Memory transcription subject: Intalran, Krakotl Civilian (Age 7)
Date [standardised human time]: February 9th, 2124
A loud boom in the distance wakes me from my restless sleep. Somewhere out there in the city another bomb has gone off, another battle fought, another life taken too soon by the monsters from the stars. I don’t know why this is happening, why they’ve come here, or why they want to hurt us so badly… Maybe that's just how they are? A senseless evil that needs no reason besides the simple fact that they can. What I do know is that mom and dad are scared. They’ve been putting up a brave face, trying not to pass along their fears to my big brother and I, but I can tell that something is deeply, deeply wrong.
Just one week ago everything had been right with the world. Everything had been fine, peaceful, boring even. I’d heard stories of the predators of course, I’d been raised on them and taught the lessons that every young chick is taught, warned of the dangers out there in the wider universe that prey upon our kind. Somehow it had always seemed so far off, so distant. The stories were something that wasn't quite real. They were something that happened to someone else, not here, not to my home, not to my family, not to me. That all changed with the day the raid sirens began their call.
It had been an ordinary day before it happened, warm and sunny with hardly a cloud in the sky and the sweet smell of flowers drifting along with the cool breeze. Akrim and I had just gotten back from a visit to the local park. I had been pestering him relentlessly to go out and play with me, to not waste away the entire season cooped up inside, and he had finally relented, pulling himself away from his studies for long enough to take me. Mom was waiting for us back at home when we arrived, tending to her garden and whistling along to the radio as she worked. She wasted no time in enlisting our help once she spotted us, but I didn't mind. Mom made gardening fun, and I like singing along to the music on the station with her. The songs stopped mid-way as I was talon-deep in weeds, ripping up the pesky invaders, to broadcast an elevated risk advisory. Mom listened attentively to the message before changing the channel to a different station. I didn't think anything of it at the time.
The first time I noticed something was off was when Dad came home from work earlier than normal that evening. He made all the usual gestures, an affectionate embrace with Mom as he came through the door, a pat on the back for Akrim, and a ruffle of my head feathers as he passed me by, but something felt wrong. There was a tension in him, a stress that underpinned his every action, something unspoken that gnawed at the back of his mind. Something he didn't wish to burden his children with.
I could hear Mom and Dad discussing their worries later that evening, after they’d sent Akrim and I down to roost so early that the sun hadn’t even set yet. Not long after I’d caught Akrim leaving his room, gliding down the hall on silent wings, and after a brief discussion joined him in his mission. The two of us crept down the stairs like a pair of thieves, listening attentively as we spied on our parents. The two of them huddled around the holovision, fixated on the local news broadcast, and Mom seemed on the verge of tears, shaking with every word as my Dad comforted her. I couldn't understand what the broadcaster was saying, but I could tell it wasn't good. At my brother's insistence we returned to our room, the look on his face filling me with dread.
The sirens themselves came in the dead of night, a shrill, haunting wail that made me shiver and shake. I'd heard them before during the usual tests and drills, everyone had, but this time felt somehow different. More real. The mechanical cry seemed almost like a living thing, some monster in the dead of night that had come to take me for its meal. In truth, that wasn't so far off.
Akrim was out of bed in a moment, shooing me downstairs while Mom and Dad pulled out backpacks loaded with supplies, preparing us and themselves for a long journey away from home. An adventure they called it. Everyone knew the right thing to do was to rush to the local shelter as fast as you could, hoping to beat the crowd and get in before they sealed it shut, hoping not to get crushed in the middle of a stampede.
My Dad felt differently, and perhaps that was a good thing. The monsters breached the shelter doors two days ago now. We could hear the explosion and the screams all the way from our hideout. My brother told me not to expect to see any of my friends or neighbours who went there seeking safety ever again. I hope he’s wrong, but I know he isn’t.
We travelled in the opposite direction of the shelter, avoiding the rest of the herd and the ensuing stampede, running ever onward even as my feet began to ache and my lungs began to burn. At last, when I felt I could run no further, we stopped, taking refuge in an abandoned building in the old historical district. A place to hide away from the crowds and the city centre. A place where we wouldn't be found… hopefully.
Strange ships flew down from the night sky, angular and alien in design, the ships of the monsters. They came like lightning, fast and deadly, destroying everything in sight with casual cruelty, but that was only the beginning. Larger vessels followed soon after, swarming with the giant grey beasts. Cattle ships.
From the elevated vantage point inside our shelter I could see them, spreading out like a plague across the city, ravaging everything and everyone in sight, dragging them back towards those ships, never to be seen again. Mom covered my eyes and dragged me away from the windows, telling me to stay quiet and hide before I could see what they did to the ones they captured, but I remember the stories. I know what happens.
I shudder at the thought and a chill breeze drifts in through the shattered window, cutting right through the thin survival blanket as I pull it even more tightly around my shoulders.
“Can’t sleep?” My brother asks, gently rubbing my back with a wing as he tries to comfort me.
“No.” I answer, looking out at the remains of the ruined city through clouded glass. “Do… Do you think that sound was the Exterminators coming to rescue us?” I ask with trepidation, already knowing the answer.
My brother just sighs and pulls me into a hug.
“I don’t think so.” He says remorsefully. “According to the emergency broadcasts the frontlines are still being fought on the other side of the city. It’ll be days until they reach us… If they reach us…”
“What are we gonna do?” I hold back tears, trying to be brave like Mom and Dad as I look out at the sporadic twinkle of weapons-fire illuminating the night on the horizon, so close and yet so far away.
“I don’t know, Intalran,” he says wistfully, “I don’t know.”
“Akrim!” My Father enters into the room, angrily chastising my brother. “Don’t say that to your brother! Everything will be just fine! There’s no need to make him cry!”
“I’m not crying…” I protest with tears in my eyes, unheard or perhaps simply ignored.
“I’m not going to lie to him, Dad!” Akrim shouts back. “Look around! Nothing is fine. Nothing…”
Mom gets up from the back, waking from her own fitful dreams to comfort her distressed chicks. She wraps her wings around both of us, swaddling us in her embrace.
“Please,” she says softly, “now isn’t the time to argue. All we have to do is wait here and have faith. The Exterminators will come. Intala will deliver us from this evil. She won’t allow the innocent chicks of her flock to come to harm. You just need to believe.”
“Ok…” I go along with my Mom’s words and she gives a small trill in response, squeezing us ever tighter as she nuzzles us, but in my heart… I don’t know if I believe it.
If Intala really cared about us then why would she have let any of this happen to begin with? What about all the other chicks out there in the city? What about the ones that were inside the shelter? Why would Intala allow anyone to suffer? Why would she allow the monsters to exist at all? Is it that Intala can’t help us? Is it that she doesn’t actually care? Or could it be that Intala isn’t even real…?
My stomach rumbles out a tortured groan, more concerned with the needs of the material than the spiritual.
“Do… Do we still have any food left?” I ask aloud, bringing about a look of shame from both my parents' faces.
“I’m sorry, Son,” My father looks away, “but we ran out yesterday. It’s all my fault. I should have packed more into the bags. I should have rationed better. I should have… I… I… ”
Mom gets up and embraces dad in a hug, quieting his regretful ramblings.
“It’s alright, Love.” She soothes his restless spirit with a simple word in the way only she can. “You’ve done the best you could. We’re all still here because of you. We’ll be ok. We’ll make it through this. Intala provides.”
“Actually…” my brother interjects, rising from his seat and walking over towards his bedding, “I still have a little bit of food leftover from my last meal. I knew we were running out, so I wanted to save it, just in case we needed it later,” from under his pillow he pulls a small, ripened juicefruit, “but here. You can have it, Intalran.”
“Really? I ask as he presses the last of our precious food reserves into my open wings. “What about you though? What are you gonna eat?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m not even hungry.” His lie is as plain as could be. We’re all hungry and we all need food, but no one calls him out on it. “You need it more than I do.” He insists.
“Maybe we could split it?” I suggest.
I look over to my parents, seeking their guidance to help absolve me of my guilt. Instead they just look on expectantly, happy to watch me eat the entire juicefruit myself.
“Intala provides.” My Mom intones with appreciation. “Make sure you enjoy it. It might be the last thing you get to eat for a little while.”
I look down at the plump and delectable looking fruit, still feeling a smidge guilty for ‘stealing’ the last of our food for myself.
“Thank you, Akrim.” I say before digging my beak into the tart flesh of the fruit, sucking out the sweet juices within that give the tasty treat its name.
While I munch away at the fruit, taking my time to appreciate every sip and bite, Akrim peers out the window down to the streets below.
“Hey, Dad?” He asks, pointing down towards a pack of the monsters roaming below, splitting off into groups to search the nearby buildings. “I think we might have a problem…”
My dad walks over and peers down himself, pulling Akrim back from the window.
“Damn!” He curses under his breath. “They’re searching the buildings again. Everyone away from the windows, we need to get somewhere more secure. Move!”
“Maybe this is a good sign?” My mother suggests as she quickly packs up our meagre belongings, removing any trace of our brief residence. “If they’re doing a final sweep of the city that must mean they’re getting ready to leave soon.”
“Maybe,” Dad answers, “but that won’t matter one bit if they find us before they do.”
Hurrying us along, my Dad begins moving us out of the open space that had become our living quarters in the past few days and back towards the hidden room upstairs. As we mount the stairs I can hear it down below, the loud crunch of a door being ripped off its hinges followed by the weighty footfall of a pack of massive predators.
“They’re in the building!” Akrim whispers. “Hurry!”
Try as I might, my little legs can only run so fast and the sound of the monsters behind us only gets louder and louder with each passing moment as they begin making their way upstairs. Not content with my pace, Dad picks me up and holds me in his wings, carrying me the rest of the way up the stairs to the special room. Inside is nothing more than a small study with old dusty furniture, a sturdy desk, a couple of archaic bookshelves, and a storage closet. Opening up the closet, he presses against the back panel allowing it to swing free, revealing a small, barren room barely big enough to stand in with a single tiny ventilation window to let air in from the outside.
Akrim rushes into the hideaway at once while Dad puts me down.
“Inside!” he urges me. “Quickly and quietly before-”
AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!
Before he can finish speaking Dad’s words are cut off by a pained scream that makes all our feathers ruffle, that of a woman. With a final, remorseful glance back at us, he discretely shuts the hidden panel once more and turns around to face his destiny, placing himself between us and the invaders. We watch helplessly from just outside, through the slit where the panel fails to make flush with the frame.
The door to the study is open and inside is a terrifying beast out of a nightmare. Its body is huge, towering over Dad at over twice his height, so large that it needs to duck and hunch just to fit inside the room. Dull grey scales cover the entirety of its body, covering a lean and famished physique, taut with tension and decorated by a multitude of pink scar tissue across its arms and chest. Terrible clawed hands and feet grip the doorway and floor respectively, digging in and splitting the wood with the causal weight of their power. Hideous binocular eyes stare down ravenously, savouring the taste of blood and envisioning the sadistic joys to come. In its long, toothy snout it holds aloft the form of my Mom, still alive and squirming in pain as her wing is held trapped in its jaws by the shoulder. It flexes the muscles in its mouth, biting down harder with a crunch of splintering bone that causes Mom to flail anew.
AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!
Dad stands on shaky feet, barely able to remain upright as he faces down such a horrific monstrosity and watches the love of his life writhe in agony. He unfurls his wings and raises them high overhead in a magnificent threat display, irrevocably weakened by the nervous chattering of his beak and the tears in his eyes.
The great beast almost seems to laugh, a low rumbling chuckle emanating from its massive chest, mocking and taking enjoyment from Dads valiant challenge. It begins shaking its head side to side in a violent, rolling motion, yanking Mom to and from in its jaws like a rag-doll, ripping muscle and displacing bone as she cries.
“Caaaaaaawwwww!” Dad lets out a primal screech of rage, unable to simply stand by and watch any longer.
He leaps into the air, his wings beating powerfully as he throws himself at the Arxur with talons outstretched and thirsting for the blood of vengeance.
The monster bats him aside with hardly a care, striking him in the side with an enormous clawed hand that batters him to the floor and tears open his side at the ribs, leaving his lacerated innards free to slowly spill and ooze out onto the floor. A mixture of shock and pain fills his face as he lays there, slowly bleeding out from his mortal wound, and his unseeing eyes lock with mine as I peer through the slit.
Grief and rage threaten to overwhelm me, forcibly pulling at the strings of my heart so harshly that I fear they may break. Tears flow freely from my eyes and a rising shriek of anger begins to build in my throat. I open my beak to scream… And my brother clamps it shut with a wing. I struggle and flail in his embrace, fighting him at every opportunity, too maddened by my own sorrows to think clearly, but when I look up to face him… I can see the tears flowing from his eyes as well.
I can’t keep doing this. I need to be smart. I need to be brave. Like Akrim. Like Dad…
I stop resisting and allow my body to go limp. Akrim refuses to let go, supporting me as I slump down. Our trials are far from over however as the wet, rending sound of peeling flesh pierces through the door, followed by more screaming and a heavy thud on the floor.
Peering back into the room, Mom lays beside Dad on the ground, her left wing completely ripped off at the shoulder and a ragged gorge running down her chest exposing her ribs.
“Oh Intala, who art in heaven, deliver us from evil and grant us peace.” Mom chokes out her prayers through a blood-filled beak, delirious with pain and almost trance-like as she repeats her memorised verses over and over again. “Rain fire upon the predator so that they may be cleansed, and lead your flock towards salvation. Smite those who would harm your chicks with righteous fury, for they are your blessing and our light. Oh Intala, who art in heaven…”
The Arxur cares not for their pain, their suffering, or their prayers. It reaches down with callous indifference and plants a foot on the small of Dads back, grabbing his ankle with a hand, and pulls.
AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!
Dad screams as his body is slowly pulled apart by the brute's otherworldly strength, his ligaments and tendons unable to fight against such insurmountable force. His leg dislocates from his hip with an audible pop before the muscle gives way and shears off at the thigh in ragged strands. The beast raises the leg of my father to its mouth and takes a bite, overcome with ecstasy and pleasure as Dad wails in agony and mother continues in her fevered prayers.
I don’t know how much more I can take. My entire body is shaking and I feel as though I’m about to pass out, my head growing light from the sheer horror of it all. This doesn’t feel real, but even in my worst nightmares I could never conceive of something so atrocious. I can’t pass out though. The rage and hatred burning inside is too strong for that. The call for blood, for vengeance, too much to ignore.
The Arxur, not content to simply enjoy what suffering it has already inflicted, casts aside the torn leg and returns for more. Dad’s second leg comes off much as the first, with no less screaming or agony. I feel so helpless and weak, so cowardly for hiding by and simply watching it happen, but there’s nothing I can do. Beside me, Akrim shakes and twitches in empathy, his ragged breathing and hateful eyes a match for my own.
At long last dad goes still, his ravaged body unable to sustain itself with so much blood strewn about the floor, and the predator turns its sights to Mom. Flipping her over to expose her front, it inspects its handiwork, Mom’s chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow rhythm as her body fights to stay alive. Her eyes are blank as she stares sightlessly up towards the ceiling, but her soft yet fervent prayers continue to reverberate. This seems to displease the monster.
With a sudden snap of its jaws it plunges its snout into the hole at my mothers side, digging around inside for delicate morsels to snatch and steal from her chest cavity. Shaking her body about and tugging with all its might, the Arxur rips free its prize, a fresh pair of lungs, and my mothers voice goes silent for the final time.
My stomach finally gives out at the sight of it, half digested bits of juicefruit spilling forth from my mouth as I keel over… and the Arxur takes notice. It stops in the midst of its blood frenzy, its joyful mutilation of my parents' still warm bodies, to look over towards the closet, over at me.
Akrim sees it coming and drags me to my feet.
“We need to get out of here now!” He shouts, stealth no longer an option. “Out the window!”
At the sound of my brothers voice the Arxur charges, crashing through the hidden panel and reducing it to splinters, but it’s too late. Akrim and I are already through the ventilation window and floating down to the streets below on our wings. The beast shoots a clawed hand out the tiny window, but to no avail, snatching only air as it narrowly misses me.
“The cattle are escaping!” It roars in its vile, guttural tongue. “Capture them!”
We land with a start on the streets below, taking off as fast as we can to who-knows-where as reptilian, binocular eyes lean out to peer down on us from the surrounding building and feral roars fill the air. I don’t know where we’re going, I don’t know what we hope to accomplish by it, but all I know is that I need to keep moving, keep running as hard and fast as I can. Away from the hideout, away from the predators, away from my parents, and away from the horrors. Sadly, as much as the mind may be willing, the body may not be able. Especially when that body is half-starved from days of subsistence rations.
I trip and fall, skinning my knee on the pavement and drawing blood. Just one more means for the monsters to track us. Ahead of me Akrim continues to run, further and further away.
“Akrim!” I cry out tearfully. “Don’t leave me!”
Akrim halts at once, realising for the first time that I’ve fallen and rushes back to me.
“I’m not gonna leave you.” He says, picking me up and holding me in his arms as he continues to run. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise. We only have each other now, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone take you away from me!”
Behind us I can see the predators gaining on us, my weight only slowing Akrim down as he gasps and wheezes, his body overheating and struggling to replace the air in his lungs as we continue our harried retreat.
We emerge into an open plaza, strewn with abandoned vehicles and rubble, a once beautiful place now reduced to little more than an open-air graveyard. In the centre stands a statue of a Krakotl, rising in flight and surrounded by flames yet miraculously unburned, a monument to Intala. It is covered in soot and ash, blemished by battlefield scars and cracked in places, yet still shines with the warm glint of bronze.
The Arxur emerge on the other end of the street and we turn to run away only to find our next path blocked, again and again and again. We’ve been trapped, cornered and with nowhere left to run. This is the end for us. Visions of my parents' deaths flash through my mind, slowly torn limb from limb while still alive, still in agony. I don’t want to die like that.
Akrim backs us into a small corner and sets me down, placing himself between me and the ravenous pack bearing down on us.
“Close your eyes, Intalran.” He says, tears running down his face. “Don’t look. It’ll all be over soon. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better brother.”
He takes up a threat display, small and weak compared to the monstrosities that slowly encircle us, yet undaunted. So brave, so much like Dad.
“Caaaaawwwww!” He screams out with defiance, and I know for certain that it is the last I’ll ever hear of my brother.
I gaze up at the shrine of Intala, my mind racing with prayers more desperate than any I’d ever had before, begging for salvation, begging for forgiveness, begging… for a miracle.
Oh Intala, why have you forsaken us? Why did you allow them to take my parents? Why are you going to allow them to take my brother? Why are you going to let them take me? What have I done wrong in your eyes? What did my Mother, my Father, my Brother, what did any of us do to displease you? Whatever it is, I'm sorry! I’m sorry I’ve been a bad son! I’m sorry I’ve been a bad brother! I’m sorry I doubted you! I’m sorry! But please! Please don’t let this happen! Take me if you have to, but don’t let them hurt Akrim! I beg you! Save us! Deliver us! Smite the predator with righteous fire and cleanse us of our sin! I promise, I’ll make it up to you! I’ll never doubt again! Never stray from your path again! Please!
I fall to the ground, sobbing, inconsolable… and my prayers are answered with a roar of thunder that splits the sky.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt! Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt! Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!
Pavement stones shatter all around us, sending fragments of shrapnel everywhere, and causing the Arxur to break off their hunt to flee for cover. Gazing up I can see them coming over the horizon, silhouetted against the rising light of dawn. Three Federation troop carriers, descending upon us with their mounted shard cannons letting loose a storm of righteous fury against the enemy. The Exterminators had arrived.
The Arxur return fire from their shadowy alcoves and pitiful shelter, but it’s no use against the shining ships of intalas wrath. They halt over the plaza, their propulsion jets rotating for vertical landing as they hover over the ruined streets. Wires drop to dangle free from the shuttles, and out of them emerges Intala’s angels, avatars of her divine will garbed in luminous chrome and wielding the instruments of her vengeance. They rappel one after another down the lines, letting loose with fire and shard as they make their landfall upon the blasphemous heathens that encroach upon Intala’s world.
A lone figure rises above all others, a strong and heroic champion whose uniform is sanctified with the purest of gold. In his hands he holds aloft a massive, rotary shardgun with twin-linked barrels, a marvel of engineering and a sacred armament whose weight and power could be borne by no lesser man. It sings out a chorus of destruction, planting seeds of death in all those who meet its gaze as the Champion mounts the steps to the shrine, placing himself at the head of the assault.
Shards fly and fire reigns as the monsters are pushed back. The Champion’s helmet is struck free from his face, leaving him unharmed but revealing a most surprising sight, a figure I’d never have expected to see.
He is a Venlil, the weakest and most cowardly of all the races, but this man is the exception that proves the rule. His wool is as black as night, as black as the void of space itself, and upon his face rests the unwavering eyes of a ruthless and righteously ordained killer, unerring in his focus and possessed of a divine will. He sweeps the battlements with his weapon, letting forth a whirlwind of death and dropping predatory bodies by the dozens as his shots unerringly find their mark, spilling free pools of crimson blood.
He remains steady and unwavering, the chaos of the battlefield engulfing him fully as he reaps the souls of the sinners, but not a single shot can find him as he stands before Intala, the light of the morning sun a halo surrounding his head. This man was no mere champion, but a Herald of divine justice, an avatar of death itself summoned forth by Intala herself to enact her will upon the blasphemous and the unworthy. All those who would sow terror in the heart of her flock would soon find that terror returned to them tenfold.
“Drive them to the sea and drown them in their own blood!” The Herald orders his men with unbridled conviction, rousing them to further glory. “For your homes! For your people! For the Federation!”
He raises a fist with infectious zeal, firing his machine gun one-handed and heralding the dawn of hope, the end to the ceaseless nightmare. His cries are echoed on the wind by his followers, a roar of fury and vengeance that will not go unheard.
“For the Federation!”
“For The Protector!”
“For Nishtal!”
“For Intala!”
One of the angels approaches my brother and I, an elaborate emblem upon his shoulder of an Arxur skull, pierced clean through with an elongated dagger and wreathed in purifying flame.
“Civilians located and secure,” he transmits over his headset, “proceeding with extermination of hostile force, over.”
I get up on shaking feet and approach the angel in chrome, shivering and shaking in the bask of their glory, unworthy to even look upon them yet compelled to do nothing else.
“Who… Who is that?” I dare to ask, casting single wing towards the Herald as he slowly walks away, chasing the monsters out of sight, out of our city, back down to the depths of damnation where they may fester and rot, burning for all time yet to come in the radiance of Intalas majesty.
“Prestige Officer Glagrig.” The angel deigns to answer my question. “It was his damn idea to lead a deep-strike operation behind enemy lines in the first place.”
His tone is gruff and unfriendly, but how could I expect anything else? I am bothering him during his work, distracting him from his sacred task, given to him by Intala herself, though he may not realise it. I’m honoured that he chooses to speak with me at all.
I look out, watching with rapt attention as the figure of Intala’s Herald, my saviour, Prestige Officer Glagrig, vanishes from sight. I will remember that name, and I will fulfil my promise to Intala. Someday… Someday I’ll be just like him.
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A/N - I hope you’ve all enjoyed this thrilling look into the origins of Intalran and I hope it helps shed a bit more light on his character. If you haven’t done so in a while I would highly recommend you check out the Master List linked at the top of the page for everything Nature of Family. The list is regularly updated so even if you’ve checked it before there might be something new that you’ve missed. Recent additions include Children of the Grave, an Empty Eyes story about Trilvri’s time as a Cadet in the Penitents, and The Duskwall Shadestalker, a wonderful (and now cannon) Ficnapping by VeryUnluckyDice himself.
I’ve been having a lot of fun with these one-shots lately and I haven’t quite decided what I want to work on next. Chapter 19 of NoF is of course a priority, but I’ve also got some other great ideas floating around including a new multi-part Empty Eyes adventure, an Alfonse origin story (among other origin stories), a ‘Playing By Ear’ style music-focused Empty Eyes one-shot which Dice has been kind enough to offer assistance with, a sequel to The Duskwall Shadestalker, and even a barely fleshed-out concept for a bit of a Rom-Com. If any of that sounds particularly interesting to you or if there’s anything you really want to see or learn more about in the future please let me know in the comments. I won’t promise anything, and at the end of the day I’ll write whatever I’m inspired to write, but if there’s enough demand I may be swayed in one direction or another.
If you like the story then please remember to upvote, comment, and use the “!Subscribeme” function to be alerted to all new posts. I post as often as I can but real life has a tendency of getting in the way and my job makes it almost impossible to keep to any kind of schedule. Your engagement and support go a long way towards helping to keep me on track and motivated, so thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stay tuned for next chapter!
2024.06.06 20:24 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
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I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:23 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
submitted by CIAHerpes to creepypasta [link] [comments]
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:22 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
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I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:22 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
submitted by CIAHerpes to Horror_stories [link] [comments]
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:22 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
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I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:21 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
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I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:21 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
submitted by CIAHerpes to LighthouseHorror [link] [comments]
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:21 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
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I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:20 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
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I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:20 CIAHerpes An anomaly has spread through the town of Frost Hollow. Soon after, I heard the radio screech out a list of rules.
Life in Frost Hollow had always been fairly normal, up until a few days ago. My husband and I had small issues and arguments, like any couple, but there was no sign of the severe transformation that would escalate into such gruesome, nightmarish scenes.
I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
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I always woke early. The day that it all started, I rose around dawn to see the muted gleam of an infant sunrise shining through the window. I looked over to Jack’s side of the bed, seeing it empty. It appeared unslept in, which I found strange, as he worked the night shift and would nearly always be home and in bed by 3 or 4 AM.
But ever since he had found our newborn daughter dead in her crib, he had been acting strange, disappearing at random hours and occasionally bringing a “friend” home. The people he brought were always young, glassy-eyed guys I had never seen before, who often followed him around in an eerie silence like ducklings following a mother duck.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, going out onto the porch as the world came to life. The Sun rose overhead like a burning angel, a fiery eye in a vast expanse of cloudless blue. I knew it would be another scorcher of a day, humid and sticky. I watched early-morning joggers passing by. I wondered where Jack was. I pulled out my cell phone, checking to see if he had sent me any messages, but there was nothing there.
As I sat on the front porch, I thought about my fading youth. I had once hair the color of summer sunlight, but now it was going gray. The small wrinkles around my mouth and eyes seemed to be lengthening and deepening every day. Everything in the world seemed to grow dusty and brittle, like one enormous sarcophagus. I felt certain I would never have another child, never see bright blue eyes staring up at me from the crib again.
Far off down the street, there was a strange translucent rippling in the air, like burning heat rising off desert sands. It expanded into a perfectly flat wall. It cut across trees, homes and cars. I squinted, realizing that it was coming nearer with every heartbeat. I thought it was some kind of bizarre meteorological phenomenon, some sort of heat mirage or humidity bubble. As it slowly crept closer, I got bored, pulling out my phone to read the news.
After a few minutes sitting and people-watching, I went inside to make some breakfast. I ambled over to the freezer, looking inside for something edible, maybe some chicken tenders I could deep-fry next to some eggs and toast. Instead, I found a decapitated human head, its open, staring eyes glassy and frostbitten. I felt a scream welling up in my throat as I dropped my coffee mug to the floor. It shattered, spraying drops of burning hot liquid all over my legs.
The freezing mist slunk towards me like ghostly hands, obscuring the face’s features for a long moment. I wondered if this was just an extremely realistic mannequin head. I looked at the blue lips, pressed together as if in an expression of disapproval, saw the ragged patches of black flesh at the bottom of the neck, and knew it was real. Frozen crystals of dark blood clung to the bottom of the head in a black pool, gluing it to the freezer floor and keeping it in an upright position.
Between the lips, I saw a folded piece of paper. On the front, in flowing, black cursive, read two words: “To Laura”. I hesitated for a couple heartbeats, then snatched the note from the dismembered head. The lips refused to let it go at first, until I gently wriggled it from side to side. It came loose with a wet, sucking sound.
The moment I freed the note, a siren rang out down the street, the volume deafening. It rose and fell in shrill wails for a few seconds. I saw the fridge tremble in front of me under the onslaught of such noise. Black mist slowly started to ooze from every surface. By the time it evaporated a few seconds later, the fridge looked like it had aged fifty years. Enormous rust spots covered its exterior, and the smell of rotting food was instantly overwhelming, like the rancid odor of roadkill putrefying under a burning sun.
The rest of the kitchen seemed to have changed as well. Everything had grown old and filthy. The counters were covered in cobwebs and grime. Deep cracks ran through the walls, and the windows were all broken.
Turning back to the freezer, I studied the mutilated head’s features more thoroughly. It was a woman with raven-black hair and blue eyes, probably in her early twenties. Who was this person? How had they died, and how had their head gotten in my freezer? What was that horrible siren?
I unfolded the note, seeing Jack’s flowing handwriting there. My heart felt like it dropped out of my chest as I quickly scanned the words.
“Dear Laura,
“If you’re reading this, it means you found the head. It’s probably a good thing, I think. There are some things I have kept secret from you, from everyone, for a long time.
“I don’t know when it first began, when this fractured piece of my personality gained control. It all started innocently enough- peeking in people’s windows when they weren’t looking, or stalking random joggers for days without being seen. It was always a rush to get away with it.
“Soon, I would break into people’s houses and rearrange all their furniture. I’d hide a portable camera in the corner or on top of a bookshelf and watch their reactions. Oh, how I laughed! As you can imagine, it was quite fun. Life doesn’t have enough laughter, after all. It seems more like wandering across an endless desert sometimes.
“But eventually, I would stumble across an oasis, a resting place in this never-ending life of shit. Or at least, that other piece of my personality did. You might not believe me, but the first time I killed, it was an accident. Perhaps it was fate sending the first pebbles skittering down over the ledge that would inevitably lead to an avalanche.
“I had been doing my usual routine, breaking into houses, moving things around, sometimes writing Satanic messages on the wall in pig’s blood. It was all to keep people on their toes, you know? Just for chuckles and smiles. But, still, I always kept my pistol on me. I had walked up and down the streets, seeing the mail piling up outside one old colonial home surrounded by a grove of thick trees. I had found the house empty when I scoped it out originally. It seemed perfect. That night, I made my way inside.
“I remember hearing the front door unlock abruptly in the middle of the night. I tried to run towards the window in the bathroom around back, the way I had come in originally. But the man must have heard my footsteps. He came around the corner with a shotgun, his face beet-red. He was screaming and hollering. I was crawling through the window when he started raising the gun. The ringing sound as he pumped a round in the chamber was like a scream from God, telling me to awaken. At that moment, I knew it was kill or be killed. Before he could pull the trigger, I aimed for his head and fired twice. I remember the rush of pleasure as his face disintegrated into a puddle of blood and bone chips.
“After that, things start to get hazy. At first, I thought it was a psychotic breakdown, because something started wearing my face, following me when I went crawling through the neighborhood. Perhaps it is a part of me in some way, my true self. After all, murder is Godly, the pure power of the divine, and killing in the name of God is always a mercy. So says the Savior.
“Well, anyway, I’m rambling. It’s time to finish this letter before I start to sound crazy. We can’t have that, can we? What will the neighbors think?
“The main thing to remember is: don’t look behind you.
“I’ll see you very soon.”
I read the last line a few times before it sunk into my mind. Don’t look behind you? It didn’t make any sense.
Then I heard the choked giggling from the pantry closet. It started low, like the first rumblings of an earthquake. The door was left open a fraction of an inch. One bloodshot eye stared at me through the crack. It flicked quickly to the left and right, the pupil dilated and insane.
“Jack?” I whispered, feeling sick and weak. “What’s… what’s wrong?” I slowly backpedaled towards the front door. The laughter turned into a gurgle, something that might have come from the lips of a drowning man. He flung the door open, his face pale and bloodless. Trickles of dried blood covered his arms and hands. Under his fingernails, I saw clotted black gore. Translucent black shadows swirled around his face and chest, spiraling up into a vortex like a dark whirlwind. They shimmered all around him, distorting his features and seeming to increase in intensity by the second.
“Jack isn’t here anymore,” he hissed in a diseased voice. His lips split apart, revealing teeth that looked far too long and sharp. “He’s hidden behind the veil, rotting under the floorboards. Even now, he tries to claw his way up.” He stepped towards me, revealing a long butcher’s knife in one hand, its steel stained a deep scarlet. Fresh blood still dripped from the tip.
“Stay away from me,” I shrieked, glancing behind me. The town looked different now, the streets deserted. Dark shadows danced over everything, as if there were a solar eclipse. The entire world seemed to exhale, a low, diseased hissing that radiated from everything all around me.
This strange monster wearing Jack’s face continued moving closer, seeming to draw power from the changes. His eyes darkened in a flash, turning black and cloudy. The cyclone of shadows twisting around his body moved faster, a curtain of darkness so thick that it started to obscure his face.
“My name is Friend,” he gurgled, lunging forward with the knife. I instinctively pulled away, stumbling back towards the open front door. I felt a cold pain radiate down my left arm, a slashing pain that made my vision turn white with adrenaline and shock. A slash opened up on the top of my skin, fresh blood bubbling out instantly. I fell backwards through the door onto the front porch, smacking my head hard on the wooden porch. Friend slunk towards me, a hurricane of blackness with an eerie human pillar at the center. He stared down at me with a grin like a razor blade, letting fresh blood, my blood, drip off the blade and patter gently to the rotted, mold-streaked floor.
I kicked forward with all of my strength, aiming a blow at his knee. I heard something crack, felt the leg give with a sickening explosion of black blood. The flesh felt loose and spongy, almost boneless. Friend wailed like a banshee, his voice rising into an ear-splitting wail. He fell forwards towards me, aiming the knife at my heart, a look of fury darkening his face.
A gunshot rang out behind me. A perfectly round scarlet hole appeared in Friend’s shoulder. He jerked, twisting and gurgling in pain. Black blood spattered my face and neck, feeling as cold as dry ice. I rolled away as his body came down, the knife landing only inches from my chest. It quivered there, its tip stuck deeply in the wooden floor.
Friend’s features changed rapidly in front of my eyes, dripping and melting. The mask of humanity he wore started to fall away, revealing a spinning black hole of a head with a single red eye in the center. Wounded and leaking blood the color of waste oil, he skittered away on four lengthening skeletal limbs, crawling like a spider. His clothes stretched and tightened around his changing, bulging flesh. Breathing hard, I turned to look at my savior.
I recognized the withered old face of my neighbor, a man we all called Bones. He had no family that I had ever seen, and lived a solitary life, almost that of a hermit. I had talked to him a few times, been invited into his home even. His walls were covered with the taxidermied heads of animals, black bears and bucks and moose he had killed. Crossbows, guns and hunting bows of all kinds had lain scattered over nearly every room. He was an outdoorsman at heart.
“Bones,” I whispered in a choked voice. “Thank God.” He shuffled forwards, a small, very thin old man with a sunken bird chest. His giant, rectangular glasses magnified his eyes to the size of dinnerplates, and a white wizard beard hung down to the center of his chest. Jack and I had often joked that he looked like a character from Duck Dynasty. He holstered his pistol around his waist before reaching down a trembling hand and helping me up.
“Something happened,” Bones said grimly. “When that siren went off. I was looking outside, just smoking and sipping some black tea, and I saw it happen. Everything started sputtering and shimmering, and this thick, black mist rose over the streets and houses. When it finally blew away, I saw… this.” He waved a hand outside for emphasis, motioning at the apocalyptic scene.
The streets heaved in great cracks and fissures, as if an earthquake had rolled through the earth. The houses looked like they had survived a nuclear apocalypse. The windows were all shattered. Tiny shards of glass littered the ground like splinters of diamond. The roofs were peeled away and rotting, with enormous holes eaten into the centers of most of them. Something like spider silk covered the dilapidated walls of most of the houses on the street, formed in symmetrical webs that rose two or three stories high.
Behind me, the radio suddenly turned on, the lights flickering overhead. The power all along the street flashed on and off, the streetlights outside strobing at the same erratic frequency. Something like a metallic shriek rang out through the radio’s speaker. Bones and I jumped, turning to look backwards at the old radio laying on the kitchen counter.
“This isn’t the real world!” a man screamed over the radio. I immediately recognized the terrified voice of Jack. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear here. The anomaly is spreading. Laura, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry for everything. Listen, to get out of this, there are a few things you need to remember.
“First, you should know there are gateways in this place, portals that lead back to our world. You can recognize them by the blinding white light radiating from them. It might be a bedroom door, a window, even a kitchen cabinet or a box. They form randomly throughout the anomaly and are highly unstable, often lasting for only seconds. If you find one, take it immediately. These are your only way home.
“Second, the entities here can take the form of any person or animal. But you’ll know them by the shadows that surround them. To kill them, you want to go for the crimson eye in the center of their faces.
“Third, there are places with food, water and other supplies. They will look like dilapidated gas stations with the name ‘Hel’s Market’ on them. These are safe spaces where the things on the streets don’t roam. Don’t stay in there too long, though, or you might see Hel. She doesn’t like visitors.”
“Jack? Where the hell are you?!” I screamed at the radio, running over and shaking it like a crying baby, hearing random pieces inside the old gadget give a metallic rattle. But the speaker only gave a hiss of static as the radio died in my hands. A million thoughts seemed to run through my head at once. Was Jack still alive? Why had his voice come on the radio? Why had his writing been on the note? Bones came up behind me, putting a slight hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll find him,” Bones said. “Jack’s a tough guy. But we need to start moving. We can’t stay here forever. We’re going to need to find supplies. Everything around here is trash.”
“It could be worse out there than it is here,” I argued. “Why do we need to keep moving? We could barricade ourselves inside and wait for the police, and the… military, and…”
“Lady, you’re living in a dream world,” Bones said coldly, his magnified eyes turning into owlish slits. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be here. You don’t even know where Jack is. You have zero supplies, zilcho. You could barricade yourself somewhere and slowly starve to death, but that wouldn’t help us much.” His words made me think. I nodded.
“Fine, but we should grab some food and water first,” I said glumly, my head spinning. I felt sick and tired from all of this, yet the feeling rose in my chest that I hadn’t seen anything yet. Bones gave a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching as he watched me.
I went over to the kitchen sink, turning it on. For a long moment, nothing happened. There was a burping, gurgling sound deep down in the pipes. They clattered and shook as if thousands of rats were slinking through them. The faucet bubbled and hissed frothy dark water. Finally, it spat a gout of thick scarlet blood all over the rusted sink, squirming with dozens of writhing maggots. I gasped, backpedaling. The smell of iron and rot from the rancid mess sputtering out of the faucet in waves was sickening. Repressing an urge to gag, I reached forward and slammed the handle down.
“Yup, that’s what I expected,” Bones said grimly. He looked around with a blank expression on his face, as if he were only on a stroll at the park. At that same moment, the lights overhead flickered one last time and died. The cracked and broken street lamps outside went dark simultaneously- at least those few that still worked.
I went over to the fridge, opening the door. The nauseating smell of rot exploded across the room, hitting me in the face like a slap. I gagged, seeing clouds of black and yellow mold growing over dried, twisted heaps of decaying food. The milk had become a soupy mess in the container with black tendrils growing along the sides of the exploded jug. I slammed the fridge door shut. I ran over to the front door and stuck my head out, inhaling sweet, clean air. Bones followed slowly behind me, seemingly unaffected.
“Don’t look like we’re getting any food or water from here,” he said contemplatively. “My place ain’t any better. When that siren hit and the black mist came, it changed everything- ate at things, as if time had been turned on fast forward. By the time the fog had gone, my house was a wreck. The food in the fridge was all rot-gut sludge, and the cans in the pantry were ready to explode. My guns were all rusted heaps of junk, the crossbows twisted and the strings snapped. Some of them had tiny black spiders building webs on them.”
“So how’d you get the pistol?” I asked, curious. He looked at me as if I were an idiot.
“I had it on me when it happened,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient child. I nodded, looking around for a weapon I could use. In the living room, I found a metal baseball bat that Jack had bought years ago. Like everything else, it had been eaten away by the ravages of time. Streaks of dark rust covered the length of it. I swung it a few times, feeling that it still felt structurally intact.
“Let’s go,” I said, following Bones outside.
***
We headed deeper into civilization, towards the downtown area with restaurants, gas stations and grocery stores. The sky above had no stars, no sun or moon. It swirled in a dark blue hurricane, meeting in a black eye at the center. The cyclonic clouds peeled away like old scabs. Some pale light came, casting everything in a cyanotic light. I saw pale, dirty faces disappearing into the alleyways and ruined homes, many of them apparently of children.
“I saw them too,” Bones muttered, holding his pistol tightly by his side. “They look like pictures of kids at Auschwitz I’ve seen. Starving and filthy. Where’s their parents, you think?” I shuddered to think about it. What if this place was sucking random people in, just making them disappear from the world? What if it was spreading, like a cancerous tumor hidden under gauze?
I had nearly forgotten about Friend, the strange shape-shifting creature who wore Jack’s face, but he hadn’t forgotten about me. We were passing the burnt-out hulk of a tractor-trailer when his shadowy face shot around the corner, staring at us with Jack’s face. He had eyes like two burnt holes, black and smoldering. His body was a strange combination of spider and human, the thin limbs ending in sharp points. Fine, dark hairs like needles covered his arms and legs. The bullet wound had apparently already healed. Black blood had crusted onto the surfaces of his shirt and pants. He didn’t hesitate to attack. He swung an insectile arm at Bones’ chest. I screamed, seeing it all happen in slow motion.
The limb went straight through Bones’ heart. Bright red arterial blood immediately began flooding out as he looked down in shock, still holding the pistol in one hand. He gurgled, dropping the gun and falling forward, dragging the arm down with him. I had the baseball bat in my hands. With all of my strength, I swung it at the creature’s head. It made contact with a fleshy thud. The soft, yielding flesh of Friend cratered under the impact. Friend made a soft hissing sound as the wound bubbled and danced as if a nest of mice were about to emerge.
I leapt for the pistol. A choked sound rasped from Bones’ trembling lips. The adrenaline rush made me feel no pain as I hit the hard, cracked road, rolling as I landed. I felt the cold metal of the pistol’s grip under my hand. I raised it, feeling the stab wound Friend had given me earlier rip back open. Fresh streams of blood soaked my clothes as I fired, dripping from the long slash along my arm.
The top of Friend’s head exploded, the body transforming before my eyes into a black, spidery humanoid with a single spinning red eye in the center of its pointed skull. Dark blood the color of asphalt leaked down its naked, glossy body. It had no mouth or nose that I could see, but fine silvery hairs covered its jointed arms and legs. The eye widened in pain as it stared into the barrel of the pistol, one blade-like arm still caught in Bones’ chest. I remembered the transmission that had come through the radio and aimed for the center of the spinning eye.
“Why do you keep taking Jack’s form?” I asked Friend, the gun feeling heavy in my trembling hand. “Why just him?”
“I can take the form of any who are part of the Church of the Final Rapture, those who have given their souls to the dark presence here,” he hissed cryptically. He jerked forward, trying to bring his other blade-like arm up towards my neck with a quick slashing blow. I instantly fired, pulling the trigger over and over.
When the first of the bullets pierced his eye, I saw a blinding explosion come from the center of it, like a flashbang radiating light the color of an infected wound. Orange the color of pus spun around bright reds and necrotic blacks. I stepped back, crying out. I instinctively brought my hand up to cover my eyes.
When I could see again, I found only a smoking crater in the spot where Friend and Bones had stood. Gray smoke hissed from the center of it. I knelt down, seeing a dark, jelly-like substance covering the jagged patches of concrete. I quickly realized it was flesh, though whether human or alien, I couldn’t say.
Shell-shocked, I stumbled over to Bones’ melted pants, feeling around his waist until I felt the cold metal of an extra magazine. I had emptied all the bullets in the gun fighting Friend. To my dismay, I realized Bones only had one extra magazine.
Feeling sick and weak, I stumbled away, heading towards downtown, hoping against hope that I would find some solace or answers there.
***
I was wavering on my feet like a drunk woman. As I got closer to the center of town, I found dead bodies hanging from the lampposts, many of them mummified or skeletal. I wondered how many people lived in this hellish world.
I heard crying ahead of me, far off in the distance. I saw a little girl kneeling below the body of a young woman. The corpse looked fresh. The tip of the dead woman’s black tongue poked out through her stiff blue lips. The young girl’s wails tore at my heart.
The girl was wearing rags, tatters of a shirt and pants that were covered in streaks of what looked like dirt and blood. Her face was grimy, but her eyes were big and blue. She looked up at me suddenly as I drew near, panic twisting her small face. She reminded me of the baby I had, the one who had died of crib death a few months earlier. My daughter had the same big blue eyes as this girl here. I looked around the destroyed world, seeing there were more spiderwebs covering the ruined buildings here.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” I asked. She grabbed my shirt, pushing her small face against my thigh.
“They killed my mommy,” she wailed, trying not to look at the hanging corpse. I hugged her.
“Who did?” I asked. “Who killed all these people?” She looked up, surprised.
“How do you not know? It’s the Church of the Final Rapture. They’re trying to spread this…” She waved a dirty hand around for emphasis, wiping tears from her bloodshot eyes. “They think if they can spread this bad place far enough, then it will lead to the Final Judgment, and Jesus will come back and good will finally win. But first, they say they need to kill a lot of people and make the battle happen.” She shook her small head. “They’re crazy. A bunch of religious nuts, Mommy always said. And she was right. Look what they did to her.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marian,” she answered in a small, diffident voice. I helped her up to her feet.
“I’m Laura,” I said, “and you can’t stay here forever, Marian. There are bad things here. Is it true there are ways out of here, doorways of light or something? Have you seen any?”
“I caught a glimpse of one once,” she answered. “It was beautiful. Like looking into a rainbow. I thought I could hear singing.” Her eyes grew distant and far-away. I took her hand, urging her to walk forwards, away from the corpse of her mother.
“So what happened?” I asked, trying to keep Marian talking.
“I saw it, but by the time I found Mom and told her, it had evaporated…” We turned a corner. Looming there overhead, we came face-to-face with what had made the webs.
***
My first thought was that it was some cross between a horse and an insect, the height of a small child and over a dozen feet long. It had the body of a struggling old man in its insectile jaws. They jutted out like the pincers of a stag beetle with wicked serrated edges. Two bulbous black eyes emerged from the sides of its head, the size of baseballs. They didn’t appear to have any lids. They stared at us, unblinking. I saw myself and Marian reflected in those dark orbs, as if they were an obsidian mirror. The pale chitinous shell of the creature shimmered with rainbows as it moved in a blur towards us. Its snout was rounded with two nostril holes. Stringy, blood-flecked mucus constantly dribbled down its eldritch face, falling down from its nose and mouth.
The hundreds of long, skittering legs moved in rhythmic peristaltic waves. The old man continuously kicked and punched at the monstrous face, but the abomination didn’t seem to notice or care. Blood dribbled from his toothless mouth and deep slashes covered his chest, stomach and legs. His lips and fingernails took on a faint bluish cast. As its black eyes focused on us, frothy bubbles of clear saliva started dripping from its flexing pincers. With a primal, reptilian hiss, it threw its head to the side. The dying man soared through the air, smashing into a concrete wall with a bone-shattering thud.
“Stop!” I cried instinctively, raising the pistol and firing. Marian screamed, running behind me and hugging my leg as the dark juggernaut ran us down.
The first bullet caught it in the neck, but the thick black plates of scales deflected it easily, leaving only a series of fine cracks running down its torso. I kept firing, aiming at its face. The second one hit it in the right eye, which exploded like a water balloon filled with blue blood. Its wailing intensified until I thought my eardrums might explode. Half-blinded, its body slithered forward like a snake’s, its many legs driving it towards us.
I jumped to the side at the last second, but Marian wasn’t so lucky. The creature’s massive pincers wrapped around her chest, grabbing her and lifting her into the air. Deep slices appeared in her rags of clothes as she cried, pleading for help. I inhaled deeply, aiming for the abomination’s face, hoping I wouldn’t hit the girl.
The last bullet in the magazine pierced its other eye. It exploded. The creature dropped Mirian to the ground, wailing a steam-whistle shriek. I grabbed Marian’s hand, lifting her off the ground.
“Run!” I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her forward. Up ahead, I saw lights illuminating a store. It was the only building with electricity that I could see. I found it strange.
As we got closer, I saw the sign, reading: “Hel’s Market”.
***
The insectoid creature’s agonized screams drew other skittering monstrosities forward. They crawled out of the side streets and alleys, their strange horse faces and insectile jaws working furiously as if tasting the air for prey. I remembered the rules on the radio, when they had said the markets were a safe spot.
We ran through the door into a building that hadn't decayed like everything else. It felt air conditioned and cool. The glass here was intact, and rows after rows of cold drinks, ice cream and frozen meals stretched out before us. It looked like a regular convenience store, but in the back, I saw a doorless threshold with stairs that led down into a shadowy basement. I shuddered as I looked at it. Outside, the creatures had stopped at the front door, their bulbous eyes staring intently in at us.
“Are you OK?” I asked Mirian, looking at her injuries. The creature had left two deep slices along the sides of her chest. They bled freely, soaking her tattered rags in fresh streaks of scarlet. She nodded silently, tears running down her rounded cheeks. We quickly grabbed drinks and snacks, chugging soda and energy drinks and eating candy and beef jerky. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was after nearly dying so many times, and Marian looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.
I was staring out the front glass window, looking at the creatures waiting there for us with hunger and bloodlust gleaming in their alien eyes, when I heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs at the back of the store. Mirian grabbed my hand tightly.
“I think something’s coming,” she whispered in terror.
***
Through the dark threshold, I saw a woman looming nearly ten feet tall. The left half of her body was decayed and rotted, mummified and gray, like everything in this world. The right was beautiful and young, the skin pink and healthy. Behind her, I saw her dragging a man bound tightly in razor-wire, the sharp edges biting into his skin. I instantly recognized Jack.
“Jack?” I asked, stepping back towards the door.
“See your husband,” Hel hissed in a shadowy voice. She threw the trembling mass of bloody flesh at my feet. Jack screamed, kicking and twisting.
“Get… out of here!” he whispered at me through teeth streaked with crimson. “I’ll… help you…”
“Did you help cause this?” I asked. Hel looked between us with sadistic pleasure, the living part of her mouth splitting into a grin. The dead part cracked, the dry skin ripping and showing blackened teeth underneath. Jack nodded.
“The Church… of the Final Rapture… yes, we tried to spread the anomaly, to end all suffering, to cause God to notice us again and come back…” Hel laughed at that, a sound like grating metal.
“Foolish men,” she gurgled. “You shouldn’t have played with things you didn’t understand.” Jack’s eyes grew big. There was a moment of clarity as he met my gaze, motioning towards the black door at the back of the store.
“I’ll… do what I can…” he said, “with what the Church has taught me.” He closed his eyes as Hel drew near, her heavy footsteps shaking the store. She lifted up one giant, naked foot over his head, holding it there like a guillotine blade. It came down with a crunch.
The door at the back of the store started vibrating and shimmering with white light as Jack died. I heard singing from it. Grabbing Marian’s arm, I pulled her towards it. A large, rotted hand came out, grabbing at my hair. I felt myself pulled back off my feet.
Like a rabid animal, Marian ran forward, sinking her sharp teeth into Hel's wrist. I felt the grip release, my back smashing hard against the floor. The wind was instantly knocked out of my lungs. Grabbing Marian's hand, we crawled towards the door, only feet away. Beautiful, angelic singing resonated through it, growing louder as we got closer. Hel shrieked with fury as we crossed the threshold, disappearing into the light. Everything dissolved in the blinding radiance, and for a moment, I felt warm and free.
***
I found myself back home with Marian, the Sun outside bright and clear. The freezer was still open, the dismembered head staring blankly out at me. Marian was gently crying, cradling her bleeding chest. All of the agonies and wounds I had suffered instantly started shrieking, grating my nerves.
Sickened, I stumbled outside and threw up, trying to forget the nightmares and broken bodies of the anomaly.
2024.06.06 20:00 Cool_Bad_8302 Looking for Faithful to the Rogue book
 | Faithful to the Rogue submitted by Cool_Bad_8302 to romancenovels [link] [comments] Book1 Chapter1 Sticky sweat trickles down my temple as I try to regulate my ragged breathing. Hiding isn't something that's new to me, but it's not something I particularly enjoy. It's a necessity to survival when you're a rogue. Running can only get you so far in this world. I move slightly to the left to try to peer around the trunk of the tree only to step on a stray branch laying on the forest floor. The crack resonates throughout the vast landscape alerting him of my location. Turning, I sprint in the opposite direction hoping to gain some distance. It proves to be fruitless seconds later when, I feel sharp jagged claws tearing deep into my calf muscles destroying flesh and muscle. My leg instantly gives out, causing both of us to tumble to the ground and roll through brush full thorns that scrape the skin all over my body, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. Before I can distinguish up from down, my skull is smashed back into the ground. I look my attacker in the face trying to determine his motive. Right away I can tell this isn't someone my father sent to retrieve or kill me. It's a regular, plain, yet extremely dangerous rogue. Assessing the dark dull eyes of the rogue I notice the amount of scars all around his weathered face. This guy has been a rogue for a long time, he hasn't had interaction with other wolves, let alone any pack in a extended amount of time. The emotionless expression on his face as his fingers tighten around my already raw throat, from his earlier attempts to take my life, inform me that my death won't affect his conscious after I'm gone. Finally, his lack of mark that would be placed somewhere on the side of his neck indicates he's got nothing to lose. Weighing my options on how to get out of this situation only takes a split second as I pull my arm back before slamming my fist as hard as I can into his Adam's apple. I roll out from underneath him and pick up the first big rock I can find. The rock making contact with the back of his skull lets out a loud boom. His unconscious body topples to the ground. The first step I take to run painfully reminds me of the gashes on my right calf. I know I can't run fast enough to escape him. I try to remember which packs are near by. The last time I recorded my location was nearly a week ago, and it was hundreds of miles away. Even though I have had eight years to memorize all packs and where they are located I never got around to it. The sound of groaning breaks me out of my thoughts. I run as hard as I can considering my leg is oozing out blood. I take a deep breath trying to catch the scent of anyone that isn't myself or my assailant. I cut north when I smell a faint hint of a vanilla-lavender mix indicating a pack is nearby. Without a second thought I feel myself cross the border from neutral territory onto pack land. I know no matter which pack I just entered, someone has already felt my presence. Unable to wait much longer, I let out a blood curdling scream hoping to speed up the process of asking for backup. I whip around just in time to feel a familiar body slam into mine. The only two outcomes of this situation is him killing me before anyone can get to us, me killing him before anyone get to us, or holding him off until someone arrives. I pick option three. Before I have the chance to attack he already has my one good leg in a death grip, and I'm too late once I realize what his plan is. The crunch of the bones in my left leg echos through the trees. Suddenly it's as everything is in slow motion, the shock hits before the pain. I think I'm screaming out in pain but all I can hear is the ringing in my ears. The trees in my peripheral vision are spinning. My stomach aches to empty its contents. His sick sadistic smirk is the last thing I see before a golden blur snatches him off of me. I turn on my side gagging due to the excruciating pain pulsing up both my legs. After I regain some of my strength I try to sit up only to fall right back down. Looking up at the sky between the leaves of the trees, I try and process how I got here. How after so many years on my own does it end this way? I start to panic when the sunlight is beginning to be obscured by black dots. Book1 Chapter2 "Hey! Stay awake for us!" Yells a guy with hazel eyes. I can tell by the way his eyes are running over my body he is trying to figure out the full extent of my injuries. Based on the way his eyes widen when his eyes land on my legs I know it's not good. I almost don't notice the second presence on my right due to my wolf's weekend state. "Violet said it would work best to get her to the doctor ourselves than have him come all the way out here." Blue eyes looks across from me to hazel eyes. I can tell that they are both mind linking by the cloudy look in their eyes. It isn't more than a couple seconds later that hazel eyes looks back down at me. "What's your name?" He questions in a very blunt and emotionless tone. I go to chuckle which is bad mistake because it strains the muscles that are all torn and bruised from sliding on the forest floor, which is riddled with rock and sticks. The blue -eyed man immediately reacts, helping me sit up. "Her name doesn't matter right now Alex, we need to get her to the pack doctor." I go to protest but it's too late. Hazel eyes or "Alex" picks me up while trying to avoid any of my wounds, which is easier said than done. I hiss out in pain squeezing my eyes shut as if that will help in some way. When I open them back up again everything thing is a blur. The trees are whizzing past us as he runs with me in his arms. "Della, my name is Della." At this point there is no benefit in not telling them my name. I'm already feeling lightheaded from losing so much blood. If I don't make it at least they'll have a name for the report. As my eyes are closing we break a tree line. I lift my heavy lids to get a look at where we are going. Ahead of us is a three-story building painted white with a red medical symbol above the doors. I hear a loud gasp and realize we are running right past pack members going on about their daily lives. I don't get to think about what they must think because we burst through the front doors of the pack hospital. "Violet!" Alex screams causing me to flinch slightly do to his close proximity. I notice blue eyes running down the hallway in a different direction. "Oh my god! Emeric didn't mention her condition was this dire." A women with dark eyes frantically rushes over. She quickly looks me over then points down the white hall. "Last door on the left." Alex doesn't hesitate rushing into the exam room and placing me on the uncomfortable hospital bed. I groan, feeling dizzy when the room starts to spin. "What happened?" The woman asks while trying to get my vitals. "We peeled some rogue off her. She had already lost a lot of blood by the time we got there." Alex answers while trying to wipe some off my blood off his arms. The woman turns her attention to me. "What hurts the most right now?" She attempts to hold eye contact with me, but it's getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open. "My leg and back." I manage to wheeze out. "Alex can you get an IV started?" She rushes cutting my shirt off to try and get a look at my back. When I feel the prick of the IV the door to the room is pushed open. A older man with a white doctor's jacket comes in with blue eyes trailing behind him. He takes one look at me before turning to the women. "Prep for surgery." It's the last thing I hear before the black splotches in my vision completely take over, and suddenly I'm drifting into oblivion. Book1 Chapter3 I know I'm awake but I can't seem to pry my eyes open. I know it's not a dream because I can wiggle my fingers and toes slightly. The pain that I feel in my legs and back is a grim reminder of what happened. The sound of the heart rate monitor to my right is the only noise in the room. Suddenly I hear footsteps and voices outside my room, and then the door to my room is slammed open. |