Ruffled plume jacket by elevenses
Time, and Time Again - Chapter 4
2024.05.18 15:04 Hewholooksskyward Time, and Time Again - Chapter 4
First I Previous
Chapter 4
The days and weeks that followed were a whirlwind of activity. There was so much to learn; history, both Earth’s future, and the war against the Satura, science and modern technology, much of which Mike struggled to grasp, as well as more mundane tasks like requesting information from the “computer”, and creating items with something called a “replicator”. He went to bed exhausted, his mind bursting with new knowledge, while his nights were restless, filled with nightmares of the past and future. Both Vargas and Amélie were patient with him, but there was an undercurrent of urgency impossible to ignore. He recognized its source all too well.
They were worried an attack was coming and were desperately trying to prepare him for when it did, but it was also obvious they feared it would happen before he was ready. He buckled down, pushing himself even harder, but they all knew the clock was ticking.
Three weeks after his arrival, a blaring alarm roused him from his fitful slumber, sending him staggering towards its source. The others were already there, huddled over the computer’s display, with worried expressions evident on their faces.
“What’s going on?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Temporal incursion,” Vargas informed him, “attempting to trace its source now.”
He glanced over at Amélie. “The enemy?”
“Oui,” she nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen.
The long hours of instruction allowed him to follow the highlights, if not the details. Through the commander’s efforts, he finally pinpointed the location of the enemy’s attack. “May 14th, 1840,” he said at last, “in London, England.”
“What’s happening in London?” Delany asked in confusion.
“I don’t know yet,” he said, irritated. “I’m still trying to trace its effects. There’s a lot of interference going on here.” A sharp intake of breath betrayed Amélie’s distress at the news.
“I take it that’s not a good sign,” Mike said quietly.
“No, it is not,” she agreed. “Interference is caused by changes to the timeline. The more interference, the greater the change. Our only hope, then, is to trace the distortion to its source. If we can isolate where the timeline first diverges, we may be able to prevent it.”
“And if we can’t?”
Amélie shuddered. “I do not know,” she whispered.
The pair watched in earnest while Vargas worked to clear up the data. As the information finally came into focus, he winced and looked away. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.
“What?” Mike demanded.
“Queen Victoria,” he grimaced. “Both she and Prince Albert were assassinated before they produced an heir. No wonder the temporal plot is such a fucking disaster.” He looked closer, reading the details as they emerged from the computer. “With their deaths, next in line for the throne was Ernest Augustus, King of Hannover.” He shook his head, turning to face them both. “This is very disturbing news.”
“Why?” Delany asked him. “I mean, I know she was important and all, but England’s had lots of kings. Why does this make such a big difference?”
“Half of Europe’s royal families are descended from Victoria and Albert, or married into their family!” he exclaimed. “The Romanovs in Russia, the Kaiser in Germany, the kings and queens of Spain, Denmark, Norway, Greece, and Sweden? The entire map of Europe would be irrevocably altered, and that’s not even the worst of it.”
“Mon Dieu,” Amélie said in horror. “A German king, sitting upon the English throne.”
Vargas nodded in agreement. “Imagine how the First and Second World Wars would have played out, with Great Britain aligned with Germany, instead of the Allies. Imagine if Churchill couldn't rally the British people, and the American forces couldn't be based in England prior to the invasion. How would history have unfolded then, Sergeant?”
His mind whirled at the grim reality they just laid out for him. “The fascists would control all of Europe,” he said in shock.
“Not just Europe,” Vargas disagreed. “Let’s not forget the Japanese. Without the British and Dutch interfering with their plans, they would have free rein in Asia.”
“Wait a second,” Mike argued, holding up his hands, “you’re forgetting about America.”
“No, I'm not,” he said quietly. “Before Pearl Harbor, America was staunchly isolationist. Hell, I doubt I need to tell you that,” he snorted. “After all, you saw it with your own two eyes.”
“Yeah,” Mike said quietly. “I mean, there were a few folks that wanted to get involved, like the ones who went north to Canada to join up.”
“Yes… let’s not forget about Canada,” the commander said darkly. “A nation that shares our longest border, allied with a fascist England. America would be surrounded, isolated… and alone. How long do you think we could survive against the entire world?”
He couldn’t imagine a worse future. “We have to stop this,” he said fervently. “Tell me there’s a way we can prevent all that from happening.”
“There is,” he said with determination. “You and Amélie have to go back to 1840, and prevent the assassination.”
“Me?” Mike shook his head. “You should go, not me. You have a lot more experience than I do. I still don’t understand any of this shit!”
“I can’t go,” the commander argued. “That’s right at the edge of my Temporal Limit. But you’ll have Amélie to guide you… after all, this is her era we’re talking about. She knows it better than anyone. The replicator will provide you with period clothing, weapons, whatever you need.” He put a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “You can do this. I have faith in you.”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been on more dangerous missions before. “All right,” he said at last, “but how do we pinpoint the assassin? If we’re forced to wait until he commits, that could be too late.”
“If it were one of the Satura in disguise, we could easily track them,” Vargas explained, “but they prefer to use cutouts and cat’s paws. Our assassin is most likely someone they bribed or radicalized against the monarchy, which makes our job that much harder. However, I think I have something that will help you.” He smiled and pointed them toward the replicator. “Come on… time to get you both geared up.”
“... there,” Vargas said at last, “I think that should just about do it.” He gave Delany a final once-over. “It looks good on you,” he said in approval.
Mike turned and stared dubiously at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like an escapee from a Dickens novel. It wasn’t too bad. The trousers and jacket may have had an odd cut to them, from his perspective, but they were manageable. The shirt collar, on the other hand…
"Non,” Amélie chastised, swatting him with her handheld fan, “leave it alone. Tugging at the collar like that will brand you an imposter.” She wore a long printed dress, with ruffles and petticoats, like one of the sisters from “Little Women”.
“It itches,” he complained, pulling at it once more.
The Frenchwoman glared at him. “Perhaps you would prefer wearing my corset?” she snapped.
Delany swallowed. “Forget I said anything.”
“Here,” the commander continued, as he handed over the rest of their gear. “A Colt Paterson revolver, cut down to make it easier to conceal.” Mike took the weapon and tucked it inside his coat. “Don’t get caught with that,” he cautioned, “with the shortened barrel and pared-down grips, you’ll look like an assassin yourself.”
“Understood,” Mike nodded.
Vargas passed over a pair of tiny derringers to Amélie. “I’ll let you decide where you want to conceal them,” he said with a shrug. She gave him an old-fashioned look as she tucked them away. “A dagger for each of you,” he continued, giving them a pair of blades, before opening up a small case. “These, hopefully, will help you spot your target,” he explained, as he gave Mike a pair of spectacles, before gifting his companion with a jeweled lorgnette. “There’s a tiny stud on the frame, next to the right lens,” he explained. “Press that, and you’ll have infrared vision. Press it again, and they’ll function as night goggles. Someone planning to kill the queen will probably have an elevated body temperature from sweating. It might just give you the advantage you need.”
He fiddled with the glasses, testing the various modes, before nodding in approval. “Could have used these at Normandy,” he said, mostly to himself.
Finally, he gave Delany a top hat and cane, while Amélie received a fur muff made with mink, or at least a reasonable facsimile. “Remember, you’re high society types, so act the part. That should get you close to the queen, without arousing suspicion.” he gave them a final once-over. “All right. Your pocket watch will tell you when you must return, and will act as a beacon when it’s time to retrieve you. Any questions?”
They both shook their heads. “Then step onto the platform, and Godspeed.” The pair stepped onto the raised dais as she took his hand in hers. “Good luck, both of you,” Vargas told them, as he activated the controls.
Once again Mike felt himself being yanked away, as the gray featureless compartment vanished from sight.
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The days and weeks that followed were a whirlwind of activity. There was so much to learn; history, both Earth’s future, and the war against the Satura, science and modern technology, much of which Mike struggled to grasp, as well as more mundane tasks like requesting information from the “computer”, and creating items with something called a “replicator”. He went to bed exhausted, his mind bursting with new knowledge, while his nights were restless, filled with nightmares of the past and future. Both Vargas and Amélie were patient with him, but there was an undercurrent of urgency impossible to ignore. He recognized its source all too well.
They were worried an attack was coming and were desperately trying to prepare him for when it did, but it was also obvious they feared it would happen before he was ready. He buckled down, pushing himself even harder, but they all knew the clock was ticking.
Three weeks after his arrival, a blaring alarm roused him from his fitful slumber, sending him staggering towards its source. The others were already there, huddled over the computer’s display, with worried expressions evident on their faces.
“What’s going on?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Temporal incursion,” Vargas informed him, “attempting to trace its source now.”
He glanced over at Amélie. “The enemy?”
“Oui,” she nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen.
The long hours of instruction allowed him to follow the highlights, if not the details. Through the commander’s efforts, he finally pinpointed the location of the enemy’s attack. “May 14th, 1840,” he said at last, “in London, England.”
“What’s happening in London?” Delany asked in confusion.
“I don’t know yet,” he said, irritated. “I’m still trying to trace its effects. There’s a lot of interference going on here.” A sharp intake of breath betrayed Amélie’s distress at the news.
“I take it that’s not a good sign,” Mike said quietly.
“No, it is not,” she agreed. “Interference is caused by changes to the timeline. The more interference, the greater the change. Our only hope, then, is to trace the distortion to its source. If we can isolate where the timeline first diverges, we may be able to prevent it.”
“And if we can’t?”
Amélie shuddered. “I do not know,” she whispered.
The pair watched in earnest while Vargas worked to clear up the data. As the information finally came into focus, he winced and looked away. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.
“What?” Mike demanded.
“Queen Victoria,” he grimaced. “Both she and Prince Albert were assassinated before they produced an heir. No wonder the temporal plot is such a fucking disaster.” He looked closer, reading the details as they emerged from the computer. “With their deaths, next in line for the throne was Ernest Augustus, King of Hannover.” He shook his head, turning to face them both. “This is very disturbing news.”
“Why?” Delany asked him. “I mean, I know she was important and all, but England’s had lots of kings. Why does this make such a big difference?”
“Half of Europe’s royal families are descended from Victoria and Albert, or married into their family!” he exclaimed. “The Romanovs in Russia, the Kaiser in Germany, the kings and queens of Spain, Denmark, Norway, Greece, and Sweden? The entire map of Europe would be irrevocably altered, and that’s not even the worst of it.”
“Mon Dieu,” Amélie said in horror. “A German king, sitting upon the English throne.”
Vargas nodded in agreement. “Imagine how the First and Second World Wars would have played out, with Great Britain aligned with Germany, instead of the Allies. Imagine if Churchill couldn't rally the British people, and the American forces couldn't be based in England prior to the invasion. How would history have unfolded then, Sergeant?”
His mind whirled at the grim reality they just laid out for him. “The fascists would control all of Europe,” he said in shock.
“Not just Europe,” Vargas disagreed. “Let’s not forget the Japanese. Without the British and Dutch interfering with their plans, they would have free rein in Asia.”
“Wait a second,” Mike argued, holding up his hands, “you’re forgetting about America.”
“No, I'm not,” he said quietly. “Before Pearl Harbor, America was staunchly isolationist. Hell, I doubt I need to tell you that,” he snorted. “After all, you saw it with your own two eyes.”
“Yeah,” Mike said quietly. “I mean, there were a few folks that wanted to get involved, like the ones who went north to Canada to join up.”
“Yes… let’s not forget about Canada,” the commander said darkly. “A nation that shares our longest border, allied with a fascist England. America would be surrounded, isolated… and alone. How long do you think we could survive against the entire world?”
He couldn’t imagine a worse future. “We have to stop this,” he said fervently. “Tell me there’s a way we can prevent all that from happening.”
“There is,” he said with determination. “You and Amélie have to go back to 1840, and prevent the assassination.”
“Me?” Mike shook his head. “You should go, not me. You have a lot more experience than I do. I still don’t understand any of this shit!”
“I can’t go,” the commander argued. “That’s right at the edge of my Temporal Limit. But you’ll have Amélie to guide you… after all, this is her era we’re talking about. She knows it better than anyone. The replicator will provide you with period clothing, weapons, whatever you need.” He put a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “You can do this. I have faith in you.”
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been on more dangerous missions before. “All right,” he said at last, “but how do we pinpoint the assassin? If we’re forced to wait until he commits, that could be too late.”
“If it were one of the Satura in disguise, we could easily track them,” Vargas explained, “but they prefer to use cutouts and cat’s paws. Our assassin is most likely someone they bribed or radicalized against the monarchy, which makes our job that much harder. However, I think I have something that will help you.” He smiled and pointed them toward the replicator. “Come on… time to get you both geared up.”
Mike turned and stared dubiously at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like an escapee from a Dickens novel. It wasn’t too bad. The trousers and jacket may have had an odd cut to them, from his perspective, but they were manageable. The shirt collar, on the other hand…
"Non,” Amélie chastised, swatting him with her handheld fan, “leave it alone. Tugging at the collar like that will brand you an imposter.” She wore a long printed dress, with ruffles and petticoats, like one of the sisters from “Little Women”.
“It itches,” he complained, pulling at it once more.
The Frenchwoman glared at him. “Perhaps you would prefer wearing my corset?” she snapped.
Delany swallowed. “Forget I said anything.”
“Here,” the commander continued, as he handed over the rest of their gear. “A Colt Paterson revolver, cut down to make it easier to conceal.” Mike took the weapon and tucked it inside his coat. “Don’t get caught with that,” he cautioned, “with the shortened barrel and pared-down grips, you’ll look like an assassin yourself.”
“Understood,” Mike nodded.
Vargas passed over a pair of tiny derringers to Amélie. “I’ll let you decide where you want to conceal them,” he said with a shrug. She gave him an old-fashioned look as she tucked them away. “A dagger for each of you,” he continued, giving them a pair of blades, before opening up a small case. “These, hopefully, will help you spot your target,” he explained, as he gave Mike a pair of spectacles, before gifting his companion with a jeweled lorgnette. “There’s a tiny stud on the frame, next to the right lens,” he explained. “Press that, and you’ll have infrared vision. Press it again, and they’ll function as night goggles. Someone planning to kill the queen will probably have an elevated body temperature from sweating. It might just give you the advantage you need.”
He fiddled with the glasses, testing the various modes, before nodding in approval. “Could have used these at Normandy,” he said, mostly to himself.
Finally, he gave Delany a top hat and cane, while Amélie received a fur muff made with mink, or at least a reasonable facsimile. “Remember, you’re high society types, so act the part. That should get you close to the queen, without arousing suspicion.” he gave them a final once-over. “All right. Your pocket watch will tell you when you must return, and will act as a beacon when it’s time to retrieve you. Any questions?”
They both shook their heads. “Then step onto the platform, and Godspeed.” The pair stepped onto the raised dais as she took his hand in hers. “Good luck, both of you,” Vargas told them, as he activated the controls.
Once again Mike felt himself being yanked away, as the gray featureless compartment vanished from sight.
2024.05.17 21:21 Future_Ad_3485 To Catch a Fallen Feathers Part Thirty-One: Gluttony and Tears
Standing in front of an abandoned buffet style restaurant, Lord Actorn shifted uncomfortably next to me with his ruby rifle. Blood bullets hung around his belt, his request for it only being two of us throwing me off. Glancing over at him, the next demon’s energy swallowed the area in unnatural darkness. Perhaps today would be easy. Then again, my luck would never allow such a luxury.
“Not that I have a problem with today but why did you want it to be the two of us?” I queried with a curious grin, wondering what sin he represented. “Unless you have something that is bothering you.” Sniffing the air, the sweet smell of gluttony had a bit of dread hardening in my stomach. Actorn’s presence made sense, another secret resting on his tongue.
“Nothing but an old rivalry that I wish to settle. I am a stickler for ending the fights I begin.” He answered nonchalantly, my brow raising at how casual he spoke. “What is wrong with wanting to spend some time with an old friend?” Plucking my blade from its case, ice crept out a bit from underneath my boots. Was his mate with a little bat? Shrugging my shoulders, that was his news to share. Smoothing out his simple onyx suit, his crooked grin had me smiling to myself. Kicking the door open, a barrage of eighties decor had me scrunching up my nose. Candles burned on the counter, a rat scurrying past me had me leaping into the air. Landing clumsily, embarrassment painted my cheeks. Scanning the space for any sign of our target, a greasy bright orange curl floated to my boot. So we were looking for a redhead.
“Are you delivering the final blow?” I whispered for him and only him to hear. His sadistic grin spoke of what he desired, the final blow becoming his. Accepting my role as the distraction, his revenge would be served for him on a silver platter. Getting lost in thought, a smack to the back of my head had me hissing in his direction. Dragging me into a booth, his hand held my head down. Hiding in the shadows, a gaunt demon walked into the view, the lights flickering on. Inky eyes scanned the space, Actorn covering my mouth. What had him on edge?
“In the case that death claims me, I need you to know this.” He whispered with a big old grin, the anticipation killing me. “She is carrying a little bat and I have to make this world safe for my family. Will you help me with that?” Mouthing congratulations, pride glistened in his eyes. Focusing on the greasy curls, her mark glowed bright. Fussing with his loose gray suit, his eyes checked his watch. Chewing on his bottom lip, the door creaked open. Arvy stepped into view, her clawed fingers drumming against her legs. Actorn held me back the moment she ripped out his heart, her bloody hand dropping his heart down her throat. Watching him decay to ash, her eyes flitted around the room. Sniffing the air, a devilish grin curled on her lips. Something smelled different about her scent, concern flashing in my eyes for a hot second.
“Come on out, Nyx!” She sang sweetly, the level of sweetness sickening me. “I know that you are here. He had to go because that poor guy was going to side with you. We couldn’t have that now, could we?” Dragging her blade along the metal buffet table, the locks on every window and door clicking had chills running up my spine. Our way out was gone, blasts of energy shooting booths into the air. Crawling on the floor, Actorn urged me to move faster. Popping to our feet in the corner, her blade whistled in my direction. Smashing the nearest window, Actorn’s protests fell on deaf ears the moment I threw him through the broken window. The glass repaired itself, his fist banged on the window. Throwing my hand in the air, there was no way this battle would be safe for him. His injuries would hinder what I wanted to investigate, anger mixing with bewilderment in his eyes.
“Get Salem to bring some potions for me. That is my order!” I shouted through the glass, the hem of his coat floating up as blood ribbons whisked him away. Spinning on my heel to give my full attention to my sister, a wicked grin resting on my lips. Running my hand through my hair, my baby blue sweater dress made me feel out of place. Prepare yourself for a battle of lovely banter, I told myself with a huff
“What a lovely family reunion.” I scoffed with a bit of a bite, her eyes rolling. “Wounds won’t do much to me but you are going to hurt horribly in the morning.” Ice crept out from underneath my feet, her finger wagging in the air. Blood coated her teeth, alarm rounding my eyes. Her blades hit the floor, horror rounding my eyes at her collapsing to her knees. Shit! My nose had been correct. The word boss had me spinning around to find him, her discreet moans waking me up to her situation.
“My boss sent me to warn you of what happens if you don’t listen to him.” She wheezed with a free smile, blood pouring from the corner of her lips. “I wanted to say goodbye to my dear sister. Before you ask, I don’t want your immortality. That sounds like a bitch.” Approaching her cautiously, her hands cupped her cheeks. Getting on my knees, my hands cupped hers. Kissing her forehead, our relationship may have been strained but that didn’t mean that her happy ending couldn’t happen. Tears welled up in my eyes, our foreheads pressing together. No one deserved this ending, the coldness proving to be more frigid than my ice powers.
“Why did your boss kill you?” I choked out through a wall of tears, her grin softening to a broken smile. Her lips parted to speak, her hands shoving me to the worn floor. A blade made of chains slid into her brain, the color draining from my cheeks as I moved my eyes up to an eight foot tall mountain of a demon. His ashy gray waves floated around his shoulders, his ruby eyes glittering with malice as she lifted up her body. Horror rounded my eyes at him dropping her limp body into his mouth, clammy sweat glistening on my skin at his inky lips closing with a single swallow. His ornate Victorian suit hugged his muscular body, his tongue licking his lips with a wink. Scrambling back, this couldn’t be happening. Who the hell was he? Playing his ruby horns, his fingers traced the immense curls. What was his weakness? Dread bubbled in my gut as I popped to my feet, my trembling hand pointing my blade towards his throat. Sauntering up to it with a cruel grin, the tip pressed into his throat. A ribbon cascaded down his throat, a newfound fear had me swimming in the pool of hesitancy.
“You are like the rumors say, Miss Nyx.” He mused with a wicked chuckle, his fingers curling around my blade. “Thank you for weakening my stepdaughter. She was a pain in my ass and spoiled too. Her mother tasted like the finest cut of beef. The operation is now under new management and you are in my way.” Panic twisted my features at him plucking me off the floor, a simple throw smashing me through the wall. A broken pipe impaled me, a fountain of blood burst from my lips. Holding the pipe, ice devoured it until it became a brittle piece of metal. Smashing my hilt against the ice, shards glittered in the moonlight the moment I hit the floor. Crawling behind the counter, he was going to know who he was messing with. Mouthing a silent healing spell, the wound sealed shut. Poking my head over the counter, his boots rang out in the next room over. Sliding back down, my fraying nerves had to die down before I made the next move. Rolling onto the bottom shelf, chains shattered the mirror behind the counter. Struggling to keep my head on, the corner of my lip trembled with pure fear. Even if I charged at him, his strength surpassed mine greatly. Glass crunched as he rounded the corner, the realization of my trail of blood sickening me. Ripping me out from underneath the counter by my throat, he smashed me into the broken glass. My blade clattered onto the floor, his boot kicking it away. Refusing to let despair haunt my eyes, my defiant grin pissed him off.
“Wow! You can’t devour me like your freaking family.” I taunted coolly, hiding my fright behind an even bigger grin. “Get over yourself.” Shards of glass dug into my back, his grip tightening on my throat. Black chains curled around my neck, my pride not letting him show how much he was scaring me. All I had to do was hold on until Salem showed up to rescue me, an idea coming to life in my mind. If his ego ran his mind, then I was going to screw with it. A sly grin on my lips had curiosity twinkling in his eyes, his head cocking back. What would get him going?
“If you are the big guy, show me what you have. Unless you’re a chicken.” I pointed out with a disdainful sigh and wink, air becoming a rare commodity. Swinging me around, bones groaned with every slam on the counter and then the floor. Dragging me through the glass, the pricks of every piece sinking into my tender flesh had me wincing. Landing inches from my blade, my fingers clawed for the hilt. Extending my claws from my fingertips, relief washed over me at the hilt hitting my eager palm. Ice crept out from underneath my palm, wicked laughter rumbling in my throat.
“Ice kingdom! Devour everything around you.” I chanted with another dark chuckle, a blizzard roaring to life as a foot of ice devouring everything. Too stunned to move, the heel of my boot smashed into his chest. Skidding back, my palm slammed onto the counter. Rising to my feet with a tired smile, I spun my blade in my palm. Skating over to him, this next move would be sure to bring the house down. Raising my heel over my head, the building shattered to pieces. Skating around the bewildered jerk, his eyes couldn’t follow me in all of the snow. Now the field was mine, a chance could be withstood.
“Quit playing, little mouse! Party tricks won’t fool me.” He bellowed over the howling winds, his body smashing towards me. Sparks danced in the air with every violent clash, our bodies flipping over each other. Landing on the other side of the debris, his blade swung towards my head. Slamming the tip of my blade into the ice, the sheer energy had me flying into the air. Angling my blade for his beefy neck, shock rounded my eyes the moment his hands curled around the sharp edge of my blade. Slamming me into the ice, several bones broke as a couple organs burst. Cursing under my breath, he stomped over to me with a ball of flames in his palm. Aiming it for my face, a quiet chuckle had his brow cocking. One leg still worked, a swift kick sent him flying into the sky. Mouthing another healing spell, bones clicked back into place. Huffing impatiently, time wasn’t on my hands. The last fragment clicked into place, a quick roll over the left had his blade missing me. Hopping to my feet, my boots skated with ease. The energy shifted, a discerning alarm rounding my eyes. Forming an ice dome over me, his black flames melted everything around me. Cold water soaked me to the bones the moment another wave of flames stole my protection, his eager grin spreading cheek to cheek. This wasn’t a battle I could win, my eyes flitting around the surrounding trees and abandoned buildings. Time slowed as he lowered his blade towards my neck, a clear escape presented itself. Pushing off the snow last minute, my boots glided down his blade. Taking my shot, the sharp edge of my blade cut through his horns like butter. Flipping out of his range, the snow crunched with every step away. Running until I couldn’t anymore, Deerthos yanked me through his wall of protection. Collapsing into his arms, his kind smile had me trembling like a damn leaf. My new enemy marched up to the edge, his fist banging away. Shouting an endless barrage of insults, my back straightened. Asserting my authority with a fit of hearty laughter, my middle fingers made an appearance. Alas, it was not the most mature reaction but it was all I had in me.
“You may have your team but I have mine.” I bragged with Cheshire Cat grin, frustration mixing with rage beautifully in his eyes. “It seems that this little mouse is still up to playing your silly little game. Love the new look by the way. Who knows when horns grow back? Is your pride hurt a bit?” Chewing on his lip, his finger traced the wall. A sly grin spread cheek to cheek, his tongue licking his lips. Lewd, that was utterly lewd.
“You are quite lovely! What I wouldn’t do to have you as my mate.” He mused with a wink, disgust mixing with my obvious iciness. “Our fight t’was fun. Imagine that, a bride that can’t be devoured by me. We are made for each other.” Laughing so hard that snorts had me cupping my stomach, my blissful grin gave him pause.
“Absolutely not. My bond is with somebody else.” I returned stiffly with a polite smile, his lips curling into a hard snarl. “There’s the jerk I know. Did you really think you could shoot your shot after devouring your step daughter. Hell no.” Backing up, Salem rising up behind me had him shrinking back. Black flames whisked him away, Salem held the bastard’s horns in his hand. Spinning me around to face him, his stern expression had me shrinking back.
“Want to tell me how you pissed off Emberon? He was in his little piece of paradise and now he is out to destroy the world.” He chastised me, shame dimming my eyes. Shame boiled to impatience, impatience boiling to justified fury. Facing my back towards him, my arms folded across my chest. The whole day had been a shit show and he had the galls to yell at me.
“I didn’t bring him, Arvy did!” I spat viciously, his arms curling around the small of my waist. “He devoured her whole and mumbled something about eating her mother. As much as I didn’t like her, her ending didn’t need to be that. If she had come to me before, I would have taken her under my wing and saved her. The problem is that she showed with death’s hand on her shoulder. I hate myself for not being able to save her.” Silent tears stained my cheeks, his chin resting on my shoulder. Apologizing with a peck to my cheek, his loving gaze doing little for fraying nerves. Actorn waved in the distance, an icy gust giving him pause. Too much raw anger sieged in my mind, snowflakes danced around aimlessly. Ice knocked Salem back, a portal into Hell creaking open. Leaping into the snowy landscape, creatures of all kinds darted around. Crunching through the snow towards the castle, the hole sealed shut. Alone, I needed to be alone. A noise had me crunching to a halt, Mamba approaching me with a weary smile. Fussing with his thick winter coat, his hand reached for mine. Continuing to walk away, his pleas fell on deaf ears.
“Please stop and listen to me.” He begged with a pensive grimace, a huffy yes flowing from my lips. “What is eating you? You are not usually like this.” Spinning on my heels to face him, he ran his fingers through his hair. Concern had me sighing to myself, my wet eyes meeting his. What I didn’t get was the constant fear of Salem? Sure, he had his bad side but he meant well.
“What I don’t get is why he immediately recoiled away from Salem and why that bastard thought it was okay to devour his family.” I ranted freely, Mamba taking it all in with an honest smile. “His dark side was as bad as mine. What crimes did he commit? All I remember while working with his mother was him coming home bloody and bruised every goddamn night. Whenever I would ask, he wouldn’t give me a generic freaking answer.” Clearing his throat, Salem’s hand held my shoulder. Struggling to speak behind me, he didn’t ask me to turn around.
“I killed a few people and I got into several spats with a few gangs. Generally, I let my shadow take over to numb any emotion I had left. Then you came along, a new light stealing away the darkness.” He admitted with tears in his voice, his hand trembling on my shoulder. “I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I saw you that first day and the violence meant nothing. You can h-” Spinning on my heels, my lips pressed against his tenderly. The tenseness in his muscles dissolved in seconds, my hands cupping his cheeks. Gazing lovingly into his wet eyes, his hands curling around mine. This was the Salem I needed, the truth helping out a bit.
“We all did things we weren’t proud of. Lord knows that I have made a few but we are human in a way. The darkness had you and I was your lantern.” I comforted him sweetly, his arms clutching me close to his chest. “I am sure whatever beef you had with that monster was necessary. Next time you need help, tell me. My ears are always open.” Resting his chin on my head, his next words had me laughing to myself.
“Only if you come to me if you have problems. Trust me. Murder isn’t in your repertoire.” He joked lightly, his laughter causing my heart to flutter. “Do you think that he has more medicine ready? We might as well use our trip down here.” Bending down, the cool snow felt nice in my palm. Rolling it into a ball, I bounced it off of my palm. Throwing it in Mamba’s direction, his features brightened at it hitting his jacket. Scooping up a pile of snow, it whistled in my direction. Engaging in a full on snowball battle, our laughter danced in the air. Snow covered their suits, both of them catching their breaths. Basking in the warmth of the moment, Salem ran up to me. Spinning me around, our hair floated up. Lowering me to the snow, his lips kissed my big smile passionately. Time slowed to a stop, our hearts beating to the same song. The sounds rushed in with Mamba clearing his throat, the way back home glowed to life underneath his feet. Hopping into his circle, his ribbons whisked us into the kitchen of the mansion. Actorn leapt from the table to ambush me with gentle queries of my mental well-being. Placing my hands on his shoulders, he had nothing to worry about.
“I am good. Go smother your mate with love and adore her with all of your heart.” I urged with a couple of pats, his lovely lady calling for him in between vomiting bouts. “Let's make you a pot of tea.” Focusing on the task at hand, Mamba excused himself. Staring out numbly at the golden moon, Salem helped me get the teapot of ginger tea going. Embracing me from behind, his body swaying back and forth. Grabbing a couple of tea cups, two of my team members were going through a rather special experience. Was it because of me that families were being created.
“What did you do to Emberon to get him scurrying away like the cockroach he is?” I interrogated calmly, my tired eyes meeting his exhausted grin. Dropping his hands to his side, his hand ran through his hair. Bowing his head in shame, a grimace twitching on his lips. Surely, it couldn't be too horrid.
“I killed his first wife because my mother told me to but they were running a slave ring. Part of me regrets committing that action but so many children got to go home that day.” He choked out through a wall of tears, the teapot whistling. “I killed his mate that day. He could have killed me but he broke down. That wail was something else.” Moving the teapot off the burner, he had nothing to worry about. Wrapping my arms around his waist, his suit jacket brushed against my cheek. His heart meant well but they were criminals at the end of the day.
“The way I see it, they had it coming. Yes, it sucks. What about the people you saved?” I pointed out with my real smile, our foreheads pressing together. “Our job isn’t easy. The odds of us breaking up a family are rather high. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I was thinking about something. What if we tried for another one when this is all over? Imagine loads of kids running around and growing up together.” Life returned to his eyes, his hands sliding down to my flat stomach. Rubbing it affectionately, pure bliss twinkled in his eyes.
“Do you promise to give me as many kids as I desire?” He gushed with his million dollar smile, his mind seeming to be churning about. “Remarry me!” Stepping back in confusion, a tender blush rose to my cheeks as my lips curled into a playful grin. Pinning my ears back, his eager eyes picked up on my odd expression.
“Let’s do it right this time. My whole life I wanted to do more than simply eloping you. A gorgeous wedding gown would be stunning on you. We could celebrate and all that jazz. Our anniversary is approaching. Please!” He pleaded adorably, his palms pressing together. Samson ruffled my hair on the way in, Flyx bounced in behind him. Placing Sphynx into my arms, his plaid shifted as he began to prepare the tea. How did he always know when to show up? Right, I was his alpha in all technicality.
“Do it!” He spoke up confidently, wiping his hands on his jeans. “You have an eternity together and a hell of a second chance. Have the wedding of your dreams and live life like you never got to. Things are bleak but celebrations are known to lift the mood. I look forward to planning your wedding menu for you.” Swiping the cups off the counter, he bounced down the hall. Like the unsung hero he was, his heart was in the right place with that sweet suggestion.
“I would love to but let’s keep it simple. Big parties scare me.” I chirped cheerfully, rocking my son back and forth. Scooping up Flyx, Salem covered him in feverish kisses. Giggles twinkled in the air, the flames of hope burned high. Grant us the ability to win this war.
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“Not that I have a problem with today but why did you want it to be the two of us?” I queried with a curious grin, wondering what sin he represented. “Unless you have something that is bothering you.” Sniffing the air, the sweet smell of gluttony had a bit of dread hardening in my stomach. Actorn’s presence made sense, another secret resting on his tongue.
“Nothing but an old rivalry that I wish to settle. I am a stickler for ending the fights I begin.” He answered nonchalantly, my brow raising at how casual he spoke. “What is wrong with wanting to spend some time with an old friend?” Plucking my blade from its case, ice crept out a bit from underneath my boots. Was his mate with a little bat? Shrugging my shoulders, that was his news to share. Smoothing out his simple onyx suit, his crooked grin had me smiling to myself. Kicking the door open, a barrage of eighties decor had me scrunching up my nose. Candles burned on the counter, a rat scurrying past me had me leaping into the air. Landing clumsily, embarrassment painted my cheeks. Scanning the space for any sign of our target, a greasy bright orange curl floated to my boot. So we were looking for a redhead.
“Are you delivering the final blow?” I whispered for him and only him to hear. His sadistic grin spoke of what he desired, the final blow becoming his. Accepting my role as the distraction, his revenge would be served for him on a silver platter. Getting lost in thought, a smack to the back of my head had me hissing in his direction. Dragging me into a booth, his hand held my head down. Hiding in the shadows, a gaunt demon walked into the view, the lights flickering on. Inky eyes scanned the space, Actorn covering my mouth. What had him on edge?
“In the case that death claims me, I need you to know this.” He whispered with a big old grin, the anticipation killing me. “She is carrying a little bat and I have to make this world safe for my family. Will you help me with that?” Mouthing congratulations, pride glistened in his eyes. Focusing on the greasy curls, her mark glowed bright. Fussing with his loose gray suit, his eyes checked his watch. Chewing on his bottom lip, the door creaked open. Arvy stepped into view, her clawed fingers drumming against her legs. Actorn held me back the moment she ripped out his heart, her bloody hand dropping his heart down her throat. Watching him decay to ash, her eyes flitted around the room. Sniffing the air, a devilish grin curled on her lips. Something smelled different about her scent, concern flashing in my eyes for a hot second.
“Come on out, Nyx!” She sang sweetly, the level of sweetness sickening me. “I know that you are here. He had to go because that poor guy was going to side with you. We couldn’t have that now, could we?” Dragging her blade along the metal buffet table, the locks on every window and door clicking had chills running up my spine. Our way out was gone, blasts of energy shooting booths into the air. Crawling on the floor, Actorn urged me to move faster. Popping to our feet in the corner, her blade whistled in my direction. Smashing the nearest window, Actorn’s protests fell on deaf ears the moment I threw him through the broken window. The glass repaired itself, his fist banged on the window. Throwing my hand in the air, there was no way this battle would be safe for him. His injuries would hinder what I wanted to investigate, anger mixing with bewilderment in his eyes.
“Get Salem to bring some potions for me. That is my order!” I shouted through the glass, the hem of his coat floating up as blood ribbons whisked him away. Spinning on my heel to give my full attention to my sister, a wicked grin resting on my lips. Running my hand through my hair, my baby blue sweater dress made me feel out of place. Prepare yourself for a battle of lovely banter, I told myself with a huff
“What a lovely family reunion.” I scoffed with a bit of a bite, her eyes rolling. “Wounds won’t do much to me but you are going to hurt horribly in the morning.” Ice crept out from underneath my feet, her finger wagging in the air. Blood coated her teeth, alarm rounding my eyes. Her blades hit the floor, horror rounding my eyes at her collapsing to her knees. Shit! My nose had been correct. The word boss had me spinning around to find him, her discreet moans waking me up to her situation.
“My boss sent me to warn you of what happens if you don’t listen to him.” She wheezed with a free smile, blood pouring from the corner of her lips. “I wanted to say goodbye to my dear sister. Before you ask, I don’t want your immortality. That sounds like a bitch.” Approaching her cautiously, her hands cupped her cheeks. Getting on my knees, my hands cupped hers. Kissing her forehead, our relationship may have been strained but that didn’t mean that her happy ending couldn’t happen. Tears welled up in my eyes, our foreheads pressing together. No one deserved this ending, the coldness proving to be more frigid than my ice powers.
“Why did your boss kill you?” I choked out through a wall of tears, her grin softening to a broken smile. Her lips parted to speak, her hands shoving me to the worn floor. A blade made of chains slid into her brain, the color draining from my cheeks as I moved my eyes up to an eight foot tall mountain of a demon. His ashy gray waves floated around his shoulders, his ruby eyes glittering with malice as she lifted up her body. Horror rounded my eyes at him dropping her limp body into his mouth, clammy sweat glistening on my skin at his inky lips closing with a single swallow. His ornate Victorian suit hugged his muscular body, his tongue licking his lips with a wink. Scrambling back, this couldn’t be happening. Who the hell was he? Playing his ruby horns, his fingers traced the immense curls. What was his weakness? Dread bubbled in my gut as I popped to my feet, my trembling hand pointing my blade towards his throat. Sauntering up to it with a cruel grin, the tip pressed into his throat. A ribbon cascaded down his throat, a newfound fear had me swimming in the pool of hesitancy.
“You are like the rumors say, Miss Nyx.” He mused with a wicked chuckle, his fingers curling around my blade. “Thank you for weakening my stepdaughter. She was a pain in my ass and spoiled too. Her mother tasted like the finest cut of beef. The operation is now under new management and you are in my way.” Panic twisted my features at him plucking me off the floor, a simple throw smashing me through the wall. A broken pipe impaled me, a fountain of blood burst from my lips. Holding the pipe, ice devoured it until it became a brittle piece of metal. Smashing my hilt against the ice, shards glittered in the moonlight the moment I hit the floor. Crawling behind the counter, he was going to know who he was messing with. Mouthing a silent healing spell, the wound sealed shut. Poking my head over the counter, his boots rang out in the next room over. Sliding back down, my fraying nerves had to die down before I made the next move. Rolling onto the bottom shelf, chains shattered the mirror behind the counter. Struggling to keep my head on, the corner of my lip trembled with pure fear. Even if I charged at him, his strength surpassed mine greatly. Glass crunched as he rounded the corner, the realization of my trail of blood sickening me. Ripping me out from underneath the counter by my throat, he smashed me into the broken glass. My blade clattered onto the floor, his boot kicking it away. Refusing to let despair haunt my eyes, my defiant grin pissed him off.
“Wow! You can’t devour me like your freaking family.” I taunted coolly, hiding my fright behind an even bigger grin. “Get over yourself.” Shards of glass dug into my back, his grip tightening on my throat. Black chains curled around my neck, my pride not letting him show how much he was scaring me. All I had to do was hold on until Salem showed up to rescue me, an idea coming to life in my mind. If his ego ran his mind, then I was going to screw with it. A sly grin on my lips had curiosity twinkling in his eyes, his head cocking back. What would get him going?
“If you are the big guy, show me what you have. Unless you’re a chicken.” I pointed out with a disdainful sigh and wink, air becoming a rare commodity. Swinging me around, bones groaned with every slam on the counter and then the floor. Dragging me through the glass, the pricks of every piece sinking into my tender flesh had me wincing. Landing inches from my blade, my fingers clawed for the hilt. Extending my claws from my fingertips, relief washed over me at the hilt hitting my eager palm. Ice crept out from underneath my palm, wicked laughter rumbling in my throat.
“Ice kingdom! Devour everything around you.” I chanted with another dark chuckle, a blizzard roaring to life as a foot of ice devouring everything. Too stunned to move, the heel of my boot smashed into his chest. Skidding back, my palm slammed onto the counter. Rising to my feet with a tired smile, I spun my blade in my palm. Skating over to him, this next move would be sure to bring the house down. Raising my heel over my head, the building shattered to pieces. Skating around the bewildered jerk, his eyes couldn’t follow me in all of the snow. Now the field was mine, a chance could be withstood.
“Quit playing, little mouse! Party tricks won’t fool me.” He bellowed over the howling winds, his body smashing towards me. Sparks danced in the air with every violent clash, our bodies flipping over each other. Landing on the other side of the debris, his blade swung towards my head. Slamming the tip of my blade into the ice, the sheer energy had me flying into the air. Angling my blade for his beefy neck, shock rounded my eyes the moment his hands curled around the sharp edge of my blade. Slamming me into the ice, several bones broke as a couple organs burst. Cursing under my breath, he stomped over to me with a ball of flames in his palm. Aiming it for my face, a quiet chuckle had his brow cocking. One leg still worked, a swift kick sent him flying into the sky. Mouthing another healing spell, bones clicked back into place. Huffing impatiently, time wasn’t on my hands. The last fragment clicked into place, a quick roll over the left had his blade missing me. Hopping to my feet, my boots skated with ease. The energy shifted, a discerning alarm rounding my eyes. Forming an ice dome over me, his black flames melted everything around me. Cold water soaked me to the bones the moment another wave of flames stole my protection, his eager grin spreading cheek to cheek. This wasn’t a battle I could win, my eyes flitting around the surrounding trees and abandoned buildings. Time slowed as he lowered his blade towards my neck, a clear escape presented itself. Pushing off the snow last minute, my boots glided down his blade. Taking my shot, the sharp edge of my blade cut through his horns like butter. Flipping out of his range, the snow crunched with every step away. Running until I couldn’t anymore, Deerthos yanked me through his wall of protection. Collapsing into his arms, his kind smile had me trembling like a damn leaf. My new enemy marched up to the edge, his fist banging away. Shouting an endless barrage of insults, my back straightened. Asserting my authority with a fit of hearty laughter, my middle fingers made an appearance. Alas, it was not the most mature reaction but it was all I had in me.
“You may have your team but I have mine.” I bragged with Cheshire Cat grin, frustration mixing with rage beautifully in his eyes. “It seems that this little mouse is still up to playing your silly little game. Love the new look by the way. Who knows when horns grow back? Is your pride hurt a bit?” Chewing on his lip, his finger traced the wall. A sly grin spread cheek to cheek, his tongue licking his lips. Lewd, that was utterly lewd.
“You are quite lovely! What I wouldn’t do to have you as my mate.” He mused with a wink, disgust mixing with my obvious iciness. “Our fight t’was fun. Imagine that, a bride that can’t be devoured by me. We are made for each other.” Laughing so hard that snorts had me cupping my stomach, my blissful grin gave him pause.
“Absolutely not. My bond is with somebody else.” I returned stiffly with a polite smile, his lips curling into a hard snarl. “There’s the jerk I know. Did you really think you could shoot your shot after devouring your step daughter. Hell no.” Backing up, Salem rising up behind me had him shrinking back. Black flames whisked him away, Salem held the bastard’s horns in his hand. Spinning me around to face him, his stern expression had me shrinking back.
“Want to tell me how you pissed off Emberon? He was in his little piece of paradise and now he is out to destroy the world.” He chastised me, shame dimming my eyes. Shame boiled to impatience, impatience boiling to justified fury. Facing my back towards him, my arms folded across my chest. The whole day had been a shit show and he had the galls to yell at me.
“I didn’t bring him, Arvy did!” I spat viciously, his arms curling around the small of my waist. “He devoured her whole and mumbled something about eating her mother. As much as I didn’t like her, her ending didn’t need to be that. If she had come to me before, I would have taken her under my wing and saved her. The problem is that she showed with death’s hand on her shoulder. I hate myself for not being able to save her.” Silent tears stained my cheeks, his chin resting on my shoulder. Apologizing with a peck to my cheek, his loving gaze doing little for fraying nerves. Actorn waved in the distance, an icy gust giving him pause. Too much raw anger sieged in my mind, snowflakes danced around aimlessly. Ice knocked Salem back, a portal into Hell creaking open. Leaping into the snowy landscape, creatures of all kinds darted around. Crunching through the snow towards the castle, the hole sealed shut. Alone, I needed to be alone. A noise had me crunching to a halt, Mamba approaching me with a weary smile. Fussing with his thick winter coat, his hand reached for mine. Continuing to walk away, his pleas fell on deaf ears.
“Please stop and listen to me.” He begged with a pensive grimace, a huffy yes flowing from my lips. “What is eating you? You are not usually like this.” Spinning on my heels to face him, he ran his fingers through his hair. Concern had me sighing to myself, my wet eyes meeting his. What I didn’t get was the constant fear of Salem? Sure, he had his bad side but he meant well.
“What I don’t get is why he immediately recoiled away from Salem and why that bastard thought it was okay to devour his family.” I ranted freely, Mamba taking it all in with an honest smile. “His dark side was as bad as mine. What crimes did he commit? All I remember while working with his mother was him coming home bloody and bruised every goddamn night. Whenever I would ask, he wouldn’t give me a generic freaking answer.” Clearing his throat, Salem’s hand held my shoulder. Struggling to speak behind me, he didn’t ask me to turn around.
“I killed a few people and I got into several spats with a few gangs. Generally, I let my shadow take over to numb any emotion I had left. Then you came along, a new light stealing away the darkness.” He admitted with tears in his voice, his hand trembling on my shoulder. “I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I saw you that first day and the violence meant nothing. You can h-” Spinning on my heels, my lips pressed against his tenderly. The tenseness in his muscles dissolved in seconds, my hands cupping his cheeks. Gazing lovingly into his wet eyes, his hands curling around mine. This was the Salem I needed, the truth helping out a bit.
“We all did things we weren’t proud of. Lord knows that I have made a few but we are human in a way. The darkness had you and I was your lantern.” I comforted him sweetly, his arms clutching me close to his chest. “I am sure whatever beef you had with that monster was necessary. Next time you need help, tell me. My ears are always open.” Resting his chin on my head, his next words had me laughing to myself.
“Only if you come to me if you have problems. Trust me. Murder isn’t in your repertoire.” He joked lightly, his laughter causing my heart to flutter. “Do you think that he has more medicine ready? We might as well use our trip down here.” Bending down, the cool snow felt nice in my palm. Rolling it into a ball, I bounced it off of my palm. Throwing it in Mamba’s direction, his features brightened at it hitting his jacket. Scooping up a pile of snow, it whistled in my direction. Engaging in a full on snowball battle, our laughter danced in the air. Snow covered their suits, both of them catching their breaths. Basking in the warmth of the moment, Salem ran up to me. Spinning me around, our hair floated up. Lowering me to the snow, his lips kissed my big smile passionately. Time slowed to a stop, our hearts beating to the same song. The sounds rushed in with Mamba clearing his throat, the way back home glowed to life underneath his feet. Hopping into his circle, his ribbons whisked us into the kitchen of the mansion. Actorn leapt from the table to ambush me with gentle queries of my mental well-being. Placing my hands on his shoulders, he had nothing to worry about.
“I am good. Go smother your mate with love and adore her with all of your heart.” I urged with a couple of pats, his lovely lady calling for him in between vomiting bouts. “Let's make you a pot of tea.” Focusing on the task at hand, Mamba excused himself. Staring out numbly at the golden moon, Salem helped me get the teapot of ginger tea going. Embracing me from behind, his body swaying back and forth. Grabbing a couple of tea cups, two of my team members were going through a rather special experience. Was it because of me that families were being created.
“What did you do to Emberon to get him scurrying away like the cockroach he is?” I interrogated calmly, my tired eyes meeting his exhausted grin. Dropping his hands to his side, his hand ran through his hair. Bowing his head in shame, a grimace twitching on his lips. Surely, it couldn't be too horrid.
“I killed his first wife because my mother told me to but they were running a slave ring. Part of me regrets committing that action but so many children got to go home that day.” He choked out through a wall of tears, the teapot whistling. “I killed his mate that day. He could have killed me but he broke down. That wail was something else.” Moving the teapot off the burner, he had nothing to worry about. Wrapping my arms around his waist, his suit jacket brushed against my cheek. His heart meant well but they were criminals at the end of the day.
“The way I see it, they had it coming. Yes, it sucks. What about the people you saved?” I pointed out with my real smile, our foreheads pressing together. “Our job isn’t easy. The odds of us breaking up a family are rather high. Don’t be too hard on yourself. I was thinking about something. What if we tried for another one when this is all over? Imagine loads of kids running around and growing up together.” Life returned to his eyes, his hands sliding down to my flat stomach. Rubbing it affectionately, pure bliss twinkled in his eyes.
“Do you promise to give me as many kids as I desire?” He gushed with his million dollar smile, his mind seeming to be churning about. “Remarry me!” Stepping back in confusion, a tender blush rose to my cheeks as my lips curled into a playful grin. Pinning my ears back, his eager eyes picked up on my odd expression.
“Let’s do it right this time. My whole life I wanted to do more than simply eloping you. A gorgeous wedding gown would be stunning on you. We could celebrate and all that jazz. Our anniversary is approaching. Please!” He pleaded adorably, his palms pressing together. Samson ruffled my hair on the way in, Flyx bounced in behind him. Placing Sphynx into my arms, his plaid shifted as he began to prepare the tea. How did he always know when to show up? Right, I was his alpha in all technicality.
“Do it!” He spoke up confidently, wiping his hands on his jeans. “You have an eternity together and a hell of a second chance. Have the wedding of your dreams and live life like you never got to. Things are bleak but celebrations are known to lift the mood. I look forward to planning your wedding menu for you.” Swiping the cups off the counter, he bounced down the hall. Like the unsung hero he was, his heart was in the right place with that sweet suggestion.
“I would love to but let’s keep it simple. Big parties scare me.” I chirped cheerfully, rocking my son back and forth. Scooping up Flyx, Salem covered him in feverish kisses. Giggles twinkled in the air, the flames of hope burned high. Grant us the ability to win this war.
2024.05.17 08:03 THE-PICTURE-FACTORY Lehenga: A Timeless Embodiment of Tradition and Elegance.
 | https://preview.redd.it/zzpgjl9bgx0d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6cd172f2857cf7a85295537b3b98df0fa4151db4 submitted by THE-PICTURE-FACTORY to u/THE-PICTURE-FACTORY [link] [comments] A lehenga, also known as lehnga or langa, is a traditional Indian garment that consists of three pieces: a skirt (lehenga), a blouse (choli), and a dupatta (a long scarf or shawl). Here are the key components in detail: Lehenga (Skirt): The lehenga for Women is a long, flowing skirt that is typically heavily embroidered, beaded, or embellished. It is often made from rich fabrics such as silk, satin, velvet, or georgette and can be designed in a variety of styles, including A-line, mermaid, or circular. The skirt is usually worn at the waist and may have a drawstring or zipper for closure. Choli (Blouse): The choli is a fitted blouse that is often short, leaving the midriff exposed. It can be styled in numerous ways, with variations in sleeve length, neckline, and back design. Like the lehenga, the choli is often decorated with embroidery, beadwork, or sequins to match the skirt. Dupatta (Scarf): The dupatta is a long scarf or shawl that complements the lehenga and choli. It can be draped over the shoulders, around the neck, or over the head, and is often adorned with matching embellishments. Lehengas are popular attire for weddings, festivals, and special occasions in South Asia, particularly in India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. They come in a wide range of colors, designs, and levels of intricacy, making them a versatile and cherished garment in South Asian fashion. There are several types of lehengas fo women, each with unique designs and silhouettes suited for different occasions and body types. A-Line Lehenga: Description: This lehenga has an A-line lehenga shape that fits at the waist and flares out towards the hem, resembling the letter 'A'. Occasion: Versatile for various events, including weddings and festivals. Circular Lehenga: Description: Known for its wide and voluminous flare, this type has a circular cut and provides a lot of fabric to create a dramatic effect. Occasion: Ideal for brides and festive occasions. Mermaid/Fishtail Lehenga: Description: Fitted at the waist and hips, it flares out from the knees resembling a mermaid's tail. Occasion: Suitable for formal events and receptions. Paneled Lehenga: Description: Made with multiple panels stitched together, this lehenga offers a lot of flare and can combine different fabrics and colors. Occasion: Great for traditional functions and weddings. Sharara Cut Lehenga: Description: Resembling wide-legged pants, this lehenga looks like a skirt but is divided, offering comfort and style. Occasion: Popular for weddings and sangeet ceremonies. Straight Cut Lehenga: Description: Features a straight silhouette from the waist to the hem, offering a more streamlined look. Occasion: Perfect for parties and formal events. Lehenga Saree: Description: A fusion of lehenga and saree, where the lehenga is draped with a dupatta in a saree-like manner. Occasion: Suitable for those who want the elegance of a saree with the ease of wearing a lehenga. Flared Lehenga: Description: Similar to the circular lehenga but with even more volume and pleats, offering a very traditional and grand look. Occasion: Ideal for bridal wear and grand celebrations. Trail Lehenga: Description: Features a long trail at the back, adding a dramatic and regal touch to the attire. Occasion: Best for brides and high-profile events. Jacket Lehenga: Description: Paired with a long jacket instead of a traditional choli, offering a contemporary and stylish twist. Occasion: Perfect for fashion-forward events and weddings. Tiered/Ruffled Lehenga: lehenga Description: Characterized by multiple layers or tiers, creating a ruffled and voluminous look. Occasion: Great for festive occasions and modern bridal wear. Each type of lehenga offers a unique look and can be chosen based on personal style preferences, the nature of the event, and comfort. Advantages of Lehenga Lehengas offer several advantages, making them a popular choice for various occasions, particularly in South Asian cultures. Here are some key benefits: Versatility: Lehengas come in various styles, fabrics, and designs, making them suitable for a wide range of events, from weddings and festivals to formal parties and casual gatherings. Elegance and Glamour: With their rich fabrics, intricate embroidery, and embellishments, lehengas exude elegance and glamour, making the wearer stand out in any crowd. Comfort: Unlike some traditional attire, lehengas can be relatively comfortable to wear, especially those with adjustable waistbands. The skirt allows for ease of movement, making it suitable for dancing and long events. Customization: Lehengas can be easily customized in terms of design, color, fabric, and fit to match personal preferences and specific themes or requirements of an event. Flattering Silhouette: The flared design of many lehengas suits various body types, enhancing the wearer’s figure by accentuating the waist and creating a balanced silhouette. Cultural Significance: Wearing a lehenga connects the wearer to cultural heritage and traditions, making it a meaningful choice for significant life events like weddings. Fusion Fashion: Modern lehengas can be paired with contemporary elements such as crop tops or jackets, allowing for a fusion of traditional and modern fashion that appeals to younger generations. Variety of Fabrics: Available in a range of fabrics like silk, velvet, chiffon, georgette, and cotton, lehengas can be chosen to suit different weather conditions and personal comfort levels. Accessories Friendly: Lehengas offer plenty of opportunities to accessorize with jewelry, shoes, and bags, allowing the wearer to enhance their overall look and express personal style. Reusable: Lehengas can often be repurposed by mixing and matching with different tops or dupattas, providing more value and versatility for the investment. Photogenic: The rich textures, vibrant colors, and elaborate designs of lehengas make them highly photogenic, ensuring that special moments are captured beautifully. Timeless Appeal: Despite evolving fashion trends, lehengas retain a timeless appeal, often being passed down through generations as cherished heirlooms. Overall, lehengas offer a perfect blend of tradition, beauty, and functionality, making them a cherished choice for many occasions. Lehengas hold significant importance for several cultural, social, and personal reasons. Here are the key aspects that highlight their importance: Cultural Heritage: Lehengas are deeply rooted in South Asian culture and tradition. Wearing a lehenga during important events like weddings and festivals helps preserve and celebrate cultural heritage and customs. Symbolism in Weddings: For many brides, wearing a lehenga is a traditional and symbolic part of the wedding ceremony. It represents the bride’s transition and is often chosen in auspicious colors and designs that signify prosperity and happiness. Expression of Artistry: Lehengas are often intricately designed with detailed embroidery, beadwork, sequins, and other embellishments. This showcases the rich craftsmanship and artistic skills of local artisans, preserving traditional arts and crafts. Identity and Pride: Wearing a lehenga can instill a sense of pride and identity, connecting individuals to their roots and giving them a sense of belonging within their community. Celebration of Femininity: Lehengas, with their elegant and elaborate designs, celebrate femininity and grace. They accentuate the natural beauty of the wearer and enhance their confidence. Social Significance: In social settings, wearing a lehenga can signify respect for the occasion and the hosts. It’s often considered appropriate attire for traditional events, showcasing the wearer's appreciation for cultural norms. Versatility and Adaptability: Lehengas are versatile garments that can be adapted to various styles, from traditional to contemporary, making them suitable for a wide range of events. This adaptability ensures they remain relevant across generations. Symbol of Prosperity and Elegance: Traditionally, lehengas are made from luxurious fabrics and adorned with rich embellishments, symbolizing prosperity, elegance, and high status. They are often chosen to reflect the wearer’s taste and social standing. Preservation of Traditions: Wearing a lehenga during festivals like Diwali, Navratri, or Eid helps in preserving and continuing traditional practices, ensuring that cultural values and stories are passed down through generations. Connection to Ancestry: Many families have heirloom lehengas that are passed down through generations. Wearing such pieces can create a deep connection to one’s ancestry and family history. Inclusivity and Representation: In multicultural societies, wearing a lehenga can be a way to represent and share one’s cultural background, fostering inclusivity and understanding among diverse communities. Personal Milestones: Beyond weddings, lehengas are often worn for other significant personal milestones such as engagements, anniversaries, and milestone birthdays, marking these events with special attire that adds to the celebratory mood. In essence, the lehenga is much more than just a garment; it is a symbol of cultural identity, tradition, and personal expression. Its importance transcends mere aesthetics, embodying deep-rooted values and historical significance. conclusion In conclusion, the lehenga is a significant and cherished garment that holds deep cultural, social, and personal importance. It is a symbol of tradition and heritage, celebrating the rich artistry and craftsmanship of South Asia. Worn during pivotal life events like weddings, festivals, and personal milestones, the lehenga connects individuals to their cultural roots, expressing pride, identity, and elegance. Its versatility allows it to adapt to modern fashion trends while preserving timeless traditions, making it a beloved attire across generations. Whether as a reflection of personal style, a celebration of femininity, or a means of preserving cultural practices, the lehenga remains a vibrant and meaningful aspect of South Asian attire. |
2024.05.17 02:36 Glacialfury [Reality Fiction] In a parallel world an SS recruit wonders what would happen if the Allies won WW2.
The following transcription has been translated for your convenience.
December 12, 1941
SS-Junkerschule
Bad Tölz, Bavaria
•••
“Heinrich Müller?”
Heinrich stepped forward and snapped to attention. A light snowfall swirled in the air, reddening his cheeks. But nothing could chill the pride in his heart on this day.
Colonel Hans Richter stood before him, resplendent in his black dress uniform and all the silver embroidery and medals decorating the stylish Waffen-SS tunic. The colonel regarded him with sharp features and sharper eyes, like gazing into a deep winter sky, eyes that pierced to the soul. Heinrich would follow the colonel’s example and forge himself into the consummate warrior and impeccable nazi. This was the way.
“Obersturmführer Müller," the colonel said. He was of a height with Heinrich but seemed so much taller in the moment. "You will now recite the Nazi oaths and join us in a thousand year Reich. Repeat after me."
Dialogue Redacted
Once the oaths to his country, the Nazi party, and most importantly, the Führer were sworn, Heinrich rendered the Nazi salute and stepped back to his place in line. Twenty-five recruits were in his graduating class, all bound for different divisions across the motherland. It took several hours for each recruit to come forward, recite the oaths and be welcomed into the Waffen-SS. Snow gathered on his uniform’s shoulders, danced around his eyes, and cold seeped through his polished knee-high black boots to numb his toes. Heinrich clenched his jaw and resolved he would not allow it to touch him, maintaining his stoic composure to the end. Anything else was unthinkable.
Once they were dismissed, he hurried out to the train station with his newly minted orders still warm in his inner jacket pocket. Crowds of civilians thronged the cobbled streets and collected outside various shops and restaurants along the walks. They parted before him as though he walked in a bubble the city could not touch.
The sky darkened. Snow fell harder.
Fat flakes piled on rooftops and in the streets, blown in gauzy veils and whipped into swirls by the wind. The train station bustled and the steps leading inside were slick with slush, but Heinrich would not allow that to slow him. He shouldered past an older couple who’d stopped to read the schedule and pushed through the doors, quickly making his way to a section reserved exclusively for the Waffen-SS. There he boarded the train bound for Munich, then to Dresden and a final switch that would take him all the way to Kharkiv, his first command attached to the 6th army, Totenkopf division.
Inside, the car was warm and ornate, with gold-embroidered red carpet flowing down the aisle and fancy carved wood paneling decorating the ceiling and walls. His seat was located near the middle of the car, beside the window, with room for one other to sit beside him. Heinrich stowed his gear and settled in just as the train began to move. The station slid past his window. People and soldiers stood on the various platforms along the city's outskirts and into the countryside. Snow sprinkled the land scrolling past outside the frosty glass, and the mountains beyond were hazy and soft around the edges. The rhythmic rocking of the train lulled him, and his thoughts drifted to the war, to the Führer and his brilliance, and to the new world they would forge out of its purifying flames.
“No, damn you," a man's deep voice roused Heinrich from his half-sleep. "Japan attacked the Americans. Not the Reich."
Heinrich blinked away the pull of sleep and glanced at a pair of SS enlisted soldiers sliding into a booth one seat up and across the aisle from him. The train rocked, and the steady clack of the tracks outside provided background noise that mingled with the muffled ebb and flow of a dozen conversations throughout the train.
Had he heard that right? Japan attacked America? Why? He sat up straight and focused on the two soldiers.
"So?" The smaller of the two men stopped and made an exasperated gesture. "Changes nothing, Hans. The Führer declared war on the Americans. They will talk their words and cower across the sea and pray the Reich does not come for them. They are soft, not soldiers.”
"I agree, Ewald," Hans said, shaking a smoke out of his pack and digging for a lighter. "But doesn't part of you hope you're wrong? Doesn’t part of you want to show the arrogant Americans what it means to be a real warrior?"
“Perhaps.”
Ewald flicked open his lighter and sparked a flame. He lit their smokes and they sank into a contemplative quiet.
Heinrich sat alert in his seat. Japan had attacked America. The Führer had declared war. First, the Soviets, and now the Americans. The news was troubling. The Allies were growing in strength. He would never question the Führer's brilliance, never doubt that the Reich could face the world and burn it to ash. Or at least, that's the lie he told himself. A different part of him, the part that quietly listens from the back of his thoughts, stirred with concern.
During his long months of training at the SS-Junkerschule, some of his classmates had expressed their disdain for Americans and their soft way of life. Air conditioning and automated dishwashers, party boy lifestyle. They believed them weak. Heinrich had silently disagreed.
Yes, the Americans lived a decadent lifestyle, with their cars, beach life and silver screens. Yet, Heinrich understood how vast America was from his time spent there as a boy on holidays with his father. They toured for months and barely scratched the surface of all there was to explore. That same silent part of his mind radiated alarm.
Heinrich didn't smoke, such things were discouraged and frowned upon in a Waffen-SS officer. But he found himself staring at the silken plumes rising from the cigarettes in the booth across the aisle.
"Excuse me," he said, scooting across the seat and leaning out of his booth.
Ewald turned to regard him with the coldest eyes he'd ever seen. One shade of blue from white and hard as winter steel. He took in Heinrich's uniform, the silver piping along his shoulder boards and the silver pips embroidered on a black background sewed to his collar. He straightened, and the haughty look in his eyes melted away.
"Sir?" he said.
Hans leaned forward to look past Ewald at Heinrich but said nothing.
"Could I trouble you for one of those?" Heinrich pointed at the cigarette Ewald held halfway to his lips.
Ewald blinked, glanced at the smoke, then back to Heinrich. "Of course, sir." He dug out another cigarette. The metallic clink of his lighter was a surprisingly pleasant sound.
"Thank you," Heinrich said once his cigarette was lit, and relaxed back into his seat, turning to watch the darkening countryside and the falling snow whisk past. The two soldiers returned to their conversation, their voices melding with that of the other passengers.
Heinrich sank deep into thought. The only sound that registered was the clack and roll of the train's wheels out on the tracks. Germany was now at war with every major power in the world, save Japan and Italy, and Italy was quickly becoming a non-factor. He drew on his cigarette and idly inhaled the smoke. It felt like he'd breathed in a lungful of water. The coughing fit that followed was beyond his control.
Ewald turned to grin at him.
"Welcome to the club, sir,' he said, and saluted with his smoke. Then he turned back to his conversation with Hans.
Heinrich considered throwing the cigarette out of the window. Who in their right mind would try these things and go back for more?
He decided to just hold it and let it burn. This was oddly comforting.
What was he thinking, having doubts? Even with the Americans and the Soviet swine, the Allies couldn't hope to defeat the Reich. God was on their side. Good was on their side. Everything the Führer did was to purify and strengthen their race. He would burn away the chaff so only the strongest remained. This was the way.
He nodded to himself, watching the landscape. But the silent part of his mind that listened and watched, quietly disagreed.
It said, what if?
What if the Allies won? Images of Berlin burning and enemy troops storming her streets flashed through his mind. Nazi flags smoldered in the streets beside shell-blasted panzers and bullet-riddled Wehrmacht troops. The glorious Reich was crumbling, her people weeping. The Americans advanced from one side and the Soviets from the other. Britain rained fire from above.
The world watched and rejoiced as the sun set on the thousand year Reich.
Heinrich shook away the disturbing images and drew long and hard on the cigarette, the coal flaring in the smoky dark of his booth. It burned his lungs like before, but this time he knew what to expect and resisted the urge to cough. His eyes watered, but he wasn't sure if it was from the cigarette smoke or the thought that the Reich might fall.
No, he told himself and forced a silent chuckle.
Hitler could not be defeated. Germany's scientists were years ahead of their enemies. The Wehrmacht were the fiercest and deadliest warriors in the world. The engineers had wunderwaffe secreted away so powerful Hitler refused to use them for fear of setting the world ablaze. The Soviets had been crushed, Britain was burning, France had fallen. America was an ocean away. What could the allies do in the face of such power?
He smiled, comforted by the thought.
No, the Reich would reign atop the world for a thousand years, as Hitler had promised. Theirs was a righteous cause, a godly cause and the almighty would not abandon them. They would reforge the weak of the world into steel.
He finished his cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray on the windowsill.
Outside, darkness shrouded the land, and all he could see was an errant swirl of snow against the glass every so often. The train lulled him. He drifted toward sleep, and the silent part of him asked a final question before fitful dreams took him.
But what if?
submitted by Glacialfury to Glacialwrites [link] [comments]
SS-Junkerschule
Bad Tölz, Bavaria
•••
“Heinrich Müller?”
Heinrich stepped forward and snapped to attention. A light snowfall swirled in the air, reddening his cheeks. But nothing could chill the pride in his heart on this day.
Colonel Hans Richter stood before him, resplendent in his black dress uniform and all the silver embroidery and medals decorating the stylish Waffen-SS tunic. The colonel regarded him with sharp features and sharper eyes, like gazing into a deep winter sky, eyes that pierced to the soul. Heinrich would follow the colonel’s example and forge himself into the consummate warrior and impeccable nazi. This was the way.
“Obersturmführer Müller," the colonel said. He was of a height with Heinrich but seemed so much taller in the moment. "You will now recite the Nazi oaths and join us in a thousand year Reich. Repeat after me."
Dialogue Redacted
Once the oaths to his country, the Nazi party, and most importantly, the Führer were sworn, Heinrich rendered the Nazi salute and stepped back to his place in line. Twenty-five recruits were in his graduating class, all bound for different divisions across the motherland. It took several hours for each recruit to come forward, recite the oaths and be welcomed into the Waffen-SS. Snow gathered on his uniform’s shoulders, danced around his eyes, and cold seeped through his polished knee-high black boots to numb his toes. Heinrich clenched his jaw and resolved he would not allow it to touch him, maintaining his stoic composure to the end. Anything else was unthinkable.
Once they were dismissed, he hurried out to the train station with his newly minted orders still warm in his inner jacket pocket. Crowds of civilians thronged the cobbled streets and collected outside various shops and restaurants along the walks. They parted before him as though he walked in a bubble the city could not touch.
The sky darkened. Snow fell harder.
Fat flakes piled on rooftops and in the streets, blown in gauzy veils and whipped into swirls by the wind. The train station bustled and the steps leading inside were slick with slush, but Heinrich would not allow that to slow him. He shouldered past an older couple who’d stopped to read the schedule and pushed through the doors, quickly making his way to a section reserved exclusively for the Waffen-SS. There he boarded the train bound for Munich, then to Dresden and a final switch that would take him all the way to Kharkiv, his first command attached to the 6th army, Totenkopf division.
Inside, the car was warm and ornate, with gold-embroidered red carpet flowing down the aisle and fancy carved wood paneling decorating the ceiling and walls. His seat was located near the middle of the car, beside the window, with room for one other to sit beside him. Heinrich stowed his gear and settled in just as the train began to move. The station slid past his window. People and soldiers stood on the various platforms along the city's outskirts and into the countryside. Snow sprinkled the land scrolling past outside the frosty glass, and the mountains beyond were hazy and soft around the edges. The rhythmic rocking of the train lulled him, and his thoughts drifted to the war, to the Führer and his brilliance, and to the new world they would forge out of its purifying flames.
“No, damn you," a man's deep voice roused Heinrich from his half-sleep. "Japan attacked the Americans. Not the Reich."
Heinrich blinked away the pull of sleep and glanced at a pair of SS enlisted soldiers sliding into a booth one seat up and across the aisle from him. The train rocked, and the steady clack of the tracks outside provided background noise that mingled with the muffled ebb and flow of a dozen conversations throughout the train.
Had he heard that right? Japan attacked America? Why? He sat up straight and focused on the two soldiers.
"So?" The smaller of the two men stopped and made an exasperated gesture. "Changes nothing, Hans. The Führer declared war on the Americans. They will talk their words and cower across the sea and pray the Reich does not come for them. They are soft, not soldiers.”
"I agree, Ewald," Hans said, shaking a smoke out of his pack and digging for a lighter. "But doesn't part of you hope you're wrong? Doesn’t part of you want to show the arrogant Americans what it means to be a real warrior?"
“Perhaps.”
Ewald flicked open his lighter and sparked a flame. He lit their smokes and they sank into a contemplative quiet.
Heinrich sat alert in his seat. Japan had attacked America. The Führer had declared war. First, the Soviets, and now the Americans. The news was troubling. The Allies were growing in strength. He would never question the Führer's brilliance, never doubt that the Reich could face the world and burn it to ash. Or at least, that's the lie he told himself. A different part of him, the part that quietly listens from the back of his thoughts, stirred with concern.
During his long months of training at the SS-Junkerschule, some of his classmates had expressed their disdain for Americans and their soft way of life. Air conditioning and automated dishwashers, party boy lifestyle. They believed them weak. Heinrich had silently disagreed.
Yes, the Americans lived a decadent lifestyle, with their cars, beach life and silver screens. Yet, Heinrich understood how vast America was from his time spent there as a boy on holidays with his father. They toured for months and barely scratched the surface of all there was to explore. That same silent part of his mind radiated alarm.
Heinrich didn't smoke, such things were discouraged and frowned upon in a Waffen-SS officer. But he found himself staring at the silken plumes rising from the cigarettes in the booth across the aisle.
"Excuse me," he said, scooting across the seat and leaning out of his booth.
Ewald turned to regard him with the coldest eyes he'd ever seen. One shade of blue from white and hard as winter steel. He took in Heinrich's uniform, the silver piping along his shoulder boards and the silver pips embroidered on a black background sewed to his collar. He straightened, and the haughty look in his eyes melted away.
"Sir?" he said.
Hans leaned forward to look past Ewald at Heinrich but said nothing.
"Could I trouble you for one of those?" Heinrich pointed at the cigarette Ewald held halfway to his lips.
Ewald blinked, glanced at the smoke, then back to Heinrich. "Of course, sir." He dug out another cigarette. The metallic clink of his lighter was a surprisingly pleasant sound.
"Thank you," Heinrich said once his cigarette was lit, and relaxed back into his seat, turning to watch the darkening countryside and the falling snow whisk past. The two soldiers returned to their conversation, their voices melding with that of the other passengers.
Heinrich sank deep into thought. The only sound that registered was the clack and roll of the train's wheels out on the tracks. Germany was now at war with every major power in the world, save Japan and Italy, and Italy was quickly becoming a non-factor. He drew on his cigarette and idly inhaled the smoke. It felt like he'd breathed in a lungful of water. The coughing fit that followed was beyond his control.
Ewald turned to grin at him.
"Welcome to the club, sir,' he said, and saluted with his smoke. Then he turned back to his conversation with Hans.
Heinrich considered throwing the cigarette out of the window. Who in their right mind would try these things and go back for more?
He decided to just hold it and let it burn. This was oddly comforting.
What was he thinking, having doubts? Even with the Americans and the Soviet swine, the Allies couldn't hope to defeat the Reich. God was on their side. Good was on their side. Everything the Führer did was to purify and strengthen their race. He would burn away the chaff so only the strongest remained. This was the way.
He nodded to himself, watching the landscape. But the silent part of his mind that listened and watched, quietly disagreed.
It said, what if?
What if the Allies won? Images of Berlin burning and enemy troops storming her streets flashed through his mind. Nazi flags smoldered in the streets beside shell-blasted panzers and bullet-riddled Wehrmacht troops. The glorious Reich was crumbling, her people weeping. The Americans advanced from one side and the Soviets from the other. Britain rained fire from above.
The world watched and rejoiced as the sun set on the thousand year Reich.
Heinrich shook away the disturbing images and drew long and hard on the cigarette, the coal flaring in the smoky dark of his booth. It burned his lungs like before, but this time he knew what to expect and resisted the urge to cough. His eyes watered, but he wasn't sure if it was from the cigarette smoke or the thought that the Reich might fall.
No, he told himself and forced a silent chuckle.
Hitler could not be defeated. Germany's scientists were years ahead of their enemies. The Wehrmacht were the fiercest and deadliest warriors in the world. The engineers had wunderwaffe secreted away so powerful Hitler refused to use them for fear of setting the world ablaze. The Soviets had been crushed, Britain was burning, France had fallen. America was an ocean away. What could the allies do in the face of such power?
He smiled, comforted by the thought.
No, the Reich would reign atop the world for a thousand years, as Hitler had promised. Theirs was a righteous cause, a godly cause and the almighty would not abandon them. They would reforge the weak of the world into steel.
He finished his cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray on the windowsill.
Outside, darkness shrouded the land, and all he could see was an errant swirl of snow against the glass every so often. The train lulled him. He drifted toward sleep, and the silent part of him asked a final question before fitful dreams took him.
But what if?
2024.05.16 23:02 Violet-Flowersss Maxi-Challenge 6: Results
 | Welcome back queens from our first ball! You had a tall order this challenge, and several of you did very well. Let’s not delay the results any longer! submitted by Violet-Flowersss to MissFiggysDragRace [link] [comments] Tracy Martel, you are safe Absynthe, Mistress Anna Conda, Liz Onya, Raven Starfire, B*tch, and Miz Erie, you all represent the tops and bottoms of this challenge. Now, on to the critiques. Absynthe: Absynthe, I love simple looks when they’re done right, and each and every one of your looks did simplicity right. I especially appreciate that you weaved a theme through all three looks. For your first look, I love that you went with a more recent trend. I can totally see Kim K wearing this in an “unexpected” paparazzi pic. At first, I was skeptical of the skirt, because tighter skirts or pants were more the style, but I actually appreciate that you didn’t directly copy a Kim K look. My only real critique is the shoes. I think the black laces, especially on clear shoes, takes away from the simplicity in the rest of the look and brings down the athleisurewear vibe. I would have preferred a sneaker or basic heel. I also kind of wish you had used a different lip, not only to break up a set, but also because big ass lips were more on trend for this style. Still, I really like this look as a whole. Now, your second look, I really really love. I instantly got this was a 60s look, yet it feels fresh to me. The dress is the perfect silhouette, and the squares you created are so crisp. The largest black square has a little blotch of gray that I immediately noticed, and I wish you had fixed it. But, that’s really the only thing here I can critique. I think my favorite part of this look is the mug, these eyes are just so right for a 60s look. Every choice your made with this second look is great. The third look is really the best in terms of simplicity done right. There’s not much going on, but all the details are so good and beautiful. I love the little belt below the waist, it helps convey the Greek/Roman feel you were going for. With the rest of the editing, there’s some small (small) issues. On the right side of the dress, there’s a gliterry piece sticking out that I think came from merging pieces together. I also feel like the shawl is oversaturated for this look. In a different look, it would be fine, but with the softness of the dress and overall feel of the look, that bright bright red doesn’t quite fit. Don’t think I didn’t notice that all the metals match this time though - I did and I appreciate it. Putting the small editing issues aside, this look is very beautiful and regal. In fact, all three looks are really great and beautiful. Great work Absynthe! Mistress Anna Conda: Mistress, all three of your looks have a great concept, but fall short in terms of execution. For the first one, before you added a description, I really had no idea what decade or century you were going for. With the description, I kind of see the 2010s, but that should have been conveyed clearer. The wig is the main aspect thats makes this look feel older than the 2010s. And, I don’t love that you lightened it. The original color would have matched the pants, and if you didn’t want them to match, the wig should be a color thats more different than the pants. I appreciate that you recolored the necklaces to match the earrings, but I wish you had done the opposite, because the gold necklaces blend into the top, making it look even messier. The pants totally give 2010s, and the color is really nice. However, they don’t look like jeans, they look like leggings. Adding stitching or denim patterning would’ve made them look more like jeans. Its a nice look, I like the attitude and idea, but the small details are off and it missed the main goal of the challenge. Of your three looks, I think this second look is my least favorite. For one thing, this jumpsuit for a disco look is about the most expected choice ever. The recoloring is really nice, the teal and orange combo is really pretty. But, the balance is off. There is a lottt of teal and not a lot of orange. What’s really brining this look down, though, is the wig. To be frank, it looks like a dead bush with some green spores. If there was a reference, I wish you had provided it because I couldn’t find it online. I see the idea you had, and it could’ve been cute, but the colors really need to be changed. As a whole, I think this look is suffering from a lack of creativity and needs to be amped up. The third look is the best out of the three. Its very cute, and clearly reads as 1890s. She looks like a mix of little bo peep and mary poppins. The combination of pieces is really smooth, and the top and bottom come together to make a nice, cohesive dress. The only editing issue you have is on the top. Where the pink and blue meet, theres a rough, shaky black line. I think you were trying to make them look layers, but it just looks odd, and because of the fold that stretches across the shirt, that prevents the two different colors from looking like layers. Not to beat a dead horse, but another issue with the top is the stark difference in fabrics. The skirt is a very soft, almost matte material while the top is shiny and plasticy. They don’t look like they’d be a part of the same dress, ruining the illusion. The wig, hat, and gloves were a nice touch though and help elevate the look a bit. This look is mostly accurate for the 1980s, but what’s not right for the time period is the waist. The dress you’ve created is very unflattering, in that it completely eliminates your waist. Corsets were still popular in the 1890s, so at the very least, there should be a semblance of an hourglass figure. All three looks are nice, but not particularly stunning, mainly because of the details. Liz Onya: Liz, each and every one of your looks is so great, and I can clearly tell you put a lot of thought and effort into every one. This first look of yours is so beautiful. I actually had to look up Akaska because I’ve never seen the movie, and all the references are so right. I especially like the headpiece, its very accurate to hers. My favorite part of this look is the smoke at the bottom, it really helps sell the mysterious vampire mystery. However… this is not a 2000s look. It kind of feels like a cope out. While the movie was made in the 2000s, the vampire your imitating is ancient Egyptian, and therefore dressed in a way thats meant to imitate ancient fashion. While others did imitate movie characters, their movie characters were from the 2000s canonically and therefore dressed in 2000s fashion. Vampires definitely were a big part of the 2000s, but if you had done Twilight instead, that would’ve fit the 2000s better because the fashion in that movie was from the 2000s. There’s no issues with your look, its gorgeous, but it does not fit the challenge prompt. Your second look is my favorite of the three, and dare I say, my favorite out of all the 1900s look. I could immediately tell this was from the 1980s, and I think you did the 80s in such a fun, new way. I love art, and I love when its incorporated into to fasion. The recoloring on the dress is just amazing. I love how it looks like its literally made of painted paper, and the shakiness of the lines works really well here because its accurate to the reference you provided. Even though it is very accurate to the reference, you still managed to make it your own by combining two references and through the wig and makeup choices. The body paint is fantastic, and even the white line on the wig looks like paint, a detail I love. The wig helps reinforce that this is an 80s look, and its blocky shape works perfectly with all the shapes throughout the dress. I don’t have a single negative thing to say about this look, incredible work. With your third look, I love love love that you went with a more obscure reference, and gave us a little history lesson. The editing really turns this into a stunning look. It easily could have been too basic if you left the dress as it is in the game, but that pool of blood at the bottom really amps up the horror here. The way you intertwined your fingers into the victims hair is so great and such an important detail. With the head, I do wish that the victims skin tone was different because at first glance it looks like your holding your own head. Using a different body type helped create a difference, but a different skin tone would have really hit it home. As for the victims body, I was really confused on what it was until I zoomed in on my laptop. All the dark blood all over the body makes it blend into the pool of blood, so its not clear that its a body. Less blood or a lighter outfit would have made it clearer. You do get extra credit for creating two 1800s looks, though. As for your head, the blood splatter on the face was such a great detail to add in there, I really love it. I would have liked a different mug, though. She looks almost surprised or sad - like shes not the one who just murdered a woman. A fiercer, meaner mug would’ve been better. The hair is great, it looks like the 1890s, but unkept and messy, adding the story. Overall, this look is so hauntingly beautiful, and tells such a great visual story. You just keep wowing me every challenge, Liz! Raven Starfire: Raven, out of the three looks, I feel like you put the most thought and attention into the 1800s look, and let the others fall to the wayside. For your 2000s look… I’m really not loving it. You resubmitted it (which is fine) and I wish you hadn’t because I think the first submission was better. The blonde hair does not look good, the color is all wrong, and because it is so long, it completely ruins the rest of the look. The dark brown hair was a lot more complimentary and I felt it was a nice way for you to put your own spin on a Mean Girls look. The mismatched pinks really bother me, the jacket and the skirt aren’t the same shade and you could’ve easily fixed that. I’m not loving the top skirt combo otherwise either, the jacket is athleisurewear while the skirt is preppy. I think there was a lot more you could’ve done to make this look more cohesive and more unique; as-is, it reads as a knock-off mean girl. For the second look, I actually asked my mom if this look was accurate for the 80s (because she grew up then) and she confirmed that this is accurate for a boss bitch from the 80s. The makeup is great, she confirmed there were a lot of pastels in the 80s, and I like the expression the eye and lip combo makes. While all the pieces in the outfit are time-period accurate, I don’t love the look as a whole. Starting with the wig, I, for one, am not a fan of this wig already, but I think there were ways you could have improved it. But since you mentioned the big hair of the 80s, I really wish you had gone with a different wig entirely that was even bigger. I’ve seen my mom’s high school photos, and her hair takes up about 70% of the frame, so I would've loved to have seen you go really big. The same thing goes for the shoulder pads, I barely even noticed this top had them, which I wouldn’t care about if you hadn't mentioned big shoulder pads. The pattern on the top totally gives 80s, but I wish you had used a lower level of it, one that didn’t have the weird harness on it. If you wanted to keep the harness, I think it would've been nicer if it matched the skirt so the skirt color was tied into the shirt somehow. That also would’ve made the harness feel more like an intentional choice. I appreciate that you matched the shoes so exactly to the skirt, buttt I think white would’ve stood out more and tied into the gloves. This look is very accurate for the 80s, but I’m just not in love with it. Now, your 1800s look, I totally am in love with. It totally feels like its from the 1800s while still being unique and creative. The layering on the skirt is absolutely beautiful, I especially really appreciate the lace edges, it helps bring all the layers together into a cohesive look. The ruffles, the gloves, the pleats, its all so beautiful. Something was bothering me about the skirt, and it took me a little while to figure out what, but I realized the waist is not angled correctly. The figures of the queens in the game are angled to the right, so waistlines should be angled that same way. The waistline you created is angled head-on, and since the rest of the queen’s body and dress is not, it looks off. If that detail was fixed, this dress would be perfect. As for the mug, I love these eyes for this look. I’m not in love with the lips, though - the bright coral color doesn’t match the rest of the burnt tones in this look. I think a softer pink or orange lip would’ve worked better. But, these small issues don’t distract from the overall look too much, making for a stunning and beautiful look overall. If the other two looks were as great as the third look, you would be in the top, but the third look isnt enough to save you from the bottom on its own. Btch: Btch, throughout all your looks, I can tell you really focused on refinement and cohesiveness. The first look is fine. It is not particularly inventive or creative, but it is cohesive. Even the small details go together. I especially appreciate how the zippers on the skirt match the jacket zippers, as do the silver hair accessories. The skirt color perfectly matches the fur on the jacket, which is great. Originally, my biggest issue was that you used the “Legally Drag” top to do an Elle Woods look, but then you deleted that reference pic. In doing so, you also deleted the decade you were referencing, which was in the challenge prompt. I still know you were going for the early 2000s, because I can’t erase my memory and you originally said so, but without the reference, it doesn’t totally give early 2000s. Elle Woods was over the top with how much pink she wore, that’s why she stood out - its not like that was an early 2000s trend. I don’t feel like this outfit is particularly inventive, even without the reference pic. I am grateful, though, that you took my note about using sets and didn’t use the matching hair or skirt for this top. The hair was a nice way to put your own spin on this style, and it gives early 2000s, I just wish you had incorporated your own twist into this look more. I also think the skirt you resubmitted with works a lot better for this look than the original skirt you had. Overall, the look is cohesive and solid, but not particularly creative or unique. This second look of yours is super cute, and I’m glad you took the time to recolor and resubmit it. Changing the green for the red helped simplify and refine the look- its a small change with a big effect. I am a little tired of seeing this top used for 90s looks, but the recoloring and pants help make it feel fresher. The hair is super cute for this look, but its reminds me more of Black Panthers from the 60s/70s than the 90s. It just makes me really want a Black Panter look, and sad that you didn’t give that to me. A beanie or bucket hat would’ve fit the 90s more. The shoes are cute, but they don’t really mesh with the rest of the outfit because there’s not cheetah print anywhere else. I like the little ankle bracelets, and the red cheetah print is cute, but a solid color shoe would’ve worked better. They also could’ve worked if cheetah print was incorporated somewhere else in the outfit. Its a very cute, fun look, but a tad basic. On the flip side, this third look of yours is super fun and unexpected! I adore that you went for a masculine look. I’m not always crazy about masc looks in this game, but when it’s done right, they’re so good. And this is done soooo right. Those rich brown tones look so good, and that mug is so sexy. With your editing, the hat got a little fuzzy. The ribbon around the hat could be clearer; it kind of blends into the hat. Similarly, while I appreciate that you went back to change the colors of the bows on the shoes, since they are so dark now, they just look like a blur from afar. Additionally, I really wish you had edited the hat onto a more masculine wig. The beautiful hair and sparkling earrings ruin the hot man fantasy I desperately want. I know I’ve been harsh on your editing before, and I hope that’s not why you chose not to fully edit this look. I really wouldn’t care that you didn’t fully edit if the hair didn’t pull me out of the fantasy so much. The rest of the outfit is really great and beautiful, the shining light against the dark outfit is just stunning. This look very much feels like the 1800s, but I can’t judge its accuracy to a decade because you didn’t specify a decade, which was in the challenge prompt. The inspo pic you provided shows looks from a lot of different years, and they vary, so I would’ve liked to know which decade you were trying to emulate. Otherwise, I really enjoy this look, it’s a nice twist that I didn’t expect from you! Miz Erie: Miz, you had some great ideas for this challenge, but the execution of each look fell a little short. Your first look is cute. A bit basic, but cute. The hair i really like, I could very much see someone in an early 2000s movie with this hair. Lots of denim was definitely a trend in the early 2000s, and I’m glad you brought that. What was not a trend in the early 2000s was big top little bottoms. That’s a more recent trend. Even putting that aside, I still don’t love the tiny skirt with the giant jacket. I really want some baggy pants to balance the look more. The recoloring on the skirt is really nice, it matches the jacket without blending in. I also like the recoloring of the shoes, they feel very early 2000s and pull in the pink from the top and thong. The mug is really nice too, these lips are perfect for this look are totally give early 2000s frosted lips. I am assuming you went for an early 2000s look though because you did not specify that, which was in the challenge prompt. For your second look, I’m very happy that you specified that this was showgirl look and not a flapper look, and provided some reference pics. The top, bottom and shoes look good together and definitely give 1920s showgirl. I get what you were trying to do with the headpiece when looking at your reference photos, but I don’t feel like it works. It doesn’t look fun or sparkly like the one in the photo do, and the harsh spikes bring down the playfulness in the rest the outfit. The Eyevie or So Raven wig would have matched the reference pics more and fit the rest of the outfit better. Part of my dislike for the headpiece may be because of the mug. She’s supposed to be a showgirl, but she looks so depressed, its making me sad. I just don’t understand why you went for such a sad face. For the rest of the outfit, while the top and bottom match colors and look good together in that regard, the nakedness of the top against the bottom doesn’t fully work for me. The skirt is a little slutty with the leg sticking out, but its waist is solid. She either needs to be wearing less clothes or more clothes. The shoes work really well, they’re subtle but the gold details are a nice touch. The idea is nice, but these issues bring the whole look down. Your third look is the best, but theres still some issues with it. I love the idea behind your 1850s look, and parts of it are really beautiful, but the execution fell short in a few ways. The combination of the top and dress is really nice, they come together to make a cohesive dress perfectly. There’s a slight editing issue with the wig though. On the left shoulder, one strand of hair is all choppy. The hanging bow ribbons are also choppy around the edges. I like that you changed the earrings on this wig, but they’re not actually connected to the ears. They’re just floating in the wig. The recoloring and editing on the dress is perfect, but I have a few other issues with it. The darkness in the middle looks unflattering, especially when the bust has that same pattern, but lighter. The gradient on the skirt should have been reversed. While the pattern is very pretty, its a lot to have it all over. If the bust was solid, it would make the dress less busy, and make the patterning stand out more. The pattern on the bows especially doesn’t help with the busyness; the pattern is too small on them to really be effective so they just look blurry and weird. Another issue I have with this look is that the wig doesn’t work for this dress. I know the top and wig are part of a set (which I don’t love that you used them together), but the simplicity of the wig and the fact that its hanging down doesn’t work with the fullness of the dress. An updo would’ve worked better, and been more accurate for the time period. The idea was really great, and the execution was almost there, but these issues make the look feel unfinished, and the same goes for the other two looks as well. Absynthe, your simple looks really wowed me. You are safe. You used the Golden Fig on yourself, but since you are high/safe, it has no effect. Liz, challenge after challenge, you just keep amazing me. Condragulations, you are the winner of this challenge! B*tch, you are safe. Raven, your 1800s look was stunning, but the other two were not. I’m sorry my love but you are up for elimination. Miz Erie, your ideas were great, but your execution was not. You… are safe. That means, Mistress Anna Conda, I’m sorry my love but you are up for elimination. Now, it is time for you and Raven to looksync for your life! |
2024.05.16 14:43 AltCocoAndCo Error Cocode [Coclones Origin Lorepost + TLDR]
![Error Cocode [Coclones Origin Lorepost + TLDR]](https://a.thumbs.redditmedia.com/GoXdJ4J2EIHYmCi60ZYXNSG4j7pT8ito_B0aVgRnOS0.jpg "Error Cocode [Coclones Origin Lorepost + TLDR]") | /uw TLDR: A bunch of Cocos from alternate timelines and dimensions fall through a rift and land in this current world. They all have slightly different personalities and hobbies, and go their own separate ways. All of their stories are told on this account, while the original Coco's story remains on the main account. /rw submitted by AltCocoAndCo to wizardposting [link] [comments] “And… hah… why are we hiking up a mountain for this?” “Because his ability will affect basically anything near him. Out here, his powers won’t bring about too much chaos… Thank you for bringing those fruits here, Coco. It means a lot.” The two women, dressed in black and white, stood out like a sore thumb amidst the greens and browns of the forest leading up the mountain. Coco trailed behind Alentu as they ventured higher, her exhaustion quite apparent compared to the latter’s calm and collected steps. Though their physical capabilities seemed miles apart and their gaits completely unalike, there was an invisible harmony to their movement. This ironic harmony extended to their clothing, their outfit and hair colors the exact inverse of each other. In Coco's hand was a basket of various fruits, freshly picked to be delivered to a certain someone. Today was an unfortunate day for the Ventures. One where each would 'pay the price' for their position in the family. All except Alentu, who took it upon herself to look after her family at their weakest and most vulnerable. She had, by chance, also ran into Coco that day, who she had forged an unexpected bond with, one almost unimaginable to anyone who knew her well. They agreed to meet at the outskirts of the forest to bring some goods to It was late afternoon, and they were now halfway to the peak where the cave resided. They had walked uphill for well over an hour, and the incline only grew steeper. To try and ignore the numbness of her feet, Coco tried to strike up a conversation. Coco: "So Alentu, do you... T-think they'll... accept us together?" Alentu: "Accept?" She giggled. "I was the head of the Venture family long before many of the rules were in place, so you have nothing to worry about. You won't go forgetting about me anytime soon, even if you don't officially marry into the family. And after today, you'll see why I don't want you becoming a Venture, for your own sake." Coco: "Ah, yeah... I-I was more meaning, like... Would your family... Like me?" Alentu: "Hmm... It'd be hard to tell without you talking with them one on one. But if we're talking about Coco: "R-right. Well that's good... To be honest, I have been a bit nervous about it all... Not just meeting your family, but telling them we're p-" Alentu: ahem "M-maybe not that part yet... One thing at a time... Let's just focus on first impressions and making sure he's doing alright, okay?" Coco: "Oh, sure- HUH?" Coco's exclamation made them both stop in their tracks. Alentu turned her head quickly, but Coco's finger pointed her gaze ahead of them to a nearby waterfall, or what would be one, if it hadn't been flowing up into the sky. That wasn't all. Loose rocks and trees floated around the mountain's peak, birds flew through the air backwards, and the stone faces of the mountain were jagged and blurry. It was as if they had walked into an unstable simulation of reality. Coco stood in shock as she tried to comprehend what she was looking at, but a tap on her shoulder brought her attention back. Alentu signaled to keep walking and stay cautious, taking her hand and leading her through the lawless, almost artificial world they had entered. As they neared the peak, the anomalous sights grew more and more common, and the terrain more and more hazardous. They carefully climbed the last incline, and atop the mountain awaited a beautiful mess of nature. A sea of flowers and grass covered the ground, the variety of which was exotic and almost timeless. The local flora was still intact, but among it grew untamed vines, metallic displays that mimicked plants, and all kinds of life that had never once grown in that area. There were also several shrines in the area, each having the same features, colors and style, but of completely different makes and materials. Coco: "What the... I-is this what Alentu: "Yes... It's just as bad with everyone else... Having such little control over such strong powers... It's why today's so important for me. I have to protect everyone..." Coco: "Alentu... I-I'm so lost in what... What this is. Everything feels so... broken..." Alentu: "...We should head into the cave. Watch your step, and whatever you do, do NOT go near any smoke. Understand?" Coco: "I do..." Alentu wrapped her arm around Coco and helped her across the dense foliage. They soon reached the cave, and in it layed a blurry mess of static and black smoke. Heeding the warning, Coco kept her distance, averting her gaze from the eyesore within, while Alentu called out into the darkness. Alentu: " Alentu: " Alentu: "...Seriously?" Coco: "O-oh, I don't... I-I came here with Alentu to bring you some food. S-she's my... My..." Alentu: "Coco's my wife." Alentu: "I'm not joking. It won't be official, but... We both found it in our hearts to share our love with another." Coco blushed from the sudden introduction, having never heard her say those words in public, and while Alentu had a confident demeanor and tone, even she looked a bit anxious. The cave was silent apart from the crackling of the rifts forming in reality, as no one really knew what to say next. After a long pause, Alentu: "Thank you... I hope he is watching, too..." Coco: O-oh, s-sure! I'd be happy to! Alentu: "But I really should... Ah, I've already checked up on the others at least once today... Alright, but I need to be back by evening, for everyone else's sake. Today's not a day I can slack off, you know." Coco and Alentu took a seat at the entrance of the cave, sitting in a patch of stone untouched by the smoke. They unpacked their basket of fruit, dividing up the softer fruits between the two, while rolling the ones with peels to During their picnic, they chatted about how Coco and Alentu met, skipping over the more intimate details, and sharing stories from their life to break the ice. Everyone got along well, and though Alentu: "Ah~ Alright, it's best I head back now... I hope you don't get too cold when night comes, Coco: "Oh, you're fine! I share what I grow at home with everyone! It was nice to meet you, too!" Alentu's eyes widened, turning around and running towards the cave, reaching out for Coco. Alentu: "COCO! RUN! The wind is gonna push the smoke into us!" Coco looked in horror at the floor under her, their unaffected safe spot having shrunk to just the space she occupied. Black smoke began to blow around the cave, trapping her in a hazy web. She looked to Alentu, her eyes desperate and in disbelief as her heart sank. What would happen if she got touched? Would she disappear forever? Would she be thrown into another time and space with no way home? Would she be transformed beyond recognition? She screamed in terror and made a run for Alentu, ducking low and reaching out for her. Their hands stretched out for each other, but just as they almost touched, a veil of smoke covered her vision. The smoke had consumed her. When she opened her eyes, she was standing on a bridge in an endless void. There was no land in sight whichever way she turned her head, and the sky was a starry night completely alien to her. Her fear made her too scared to open her mouth, let alone yell for help. She looked down, and saw her reflection rippling in the darkness... No, multiple reflections. The void became a sea of her form. Terrified, she stumbled back, but tripped over the rope suspending the bridge, causing her to fall in. As she fell, she felt her body get caught up in a mass of limbs and hair. These body parts were connected to her reflections, and as one began to scream, the rest followed. They fell together for what felt like forever, but as Coco looked up, she saw the other countless reflections looking back at her, slowly fading from view. She closed her eyes, accepting what was likely her demise. Eventually, she hit the bottom, but instead of the cold impact of death, she fell into a warm embrace, and instead of falling straight down, she fell forwards. Alentu: "Coco! Coco, are you o- AH!" Coco's eyes jolted open, and before her was Alentu, holding her like she never wanted to let her go again. Their hug was tight, but behind her black hair, she saw the familiar sight of the corrupted mountaintop. Coco: "A-Alentu... A-am I still here with you?" Alentu: " Y-yes! T-thank god you're safe, if you had disappeared for good- I-" Alentu's eyes were teary, and her voice unusually shaky. "You only vanished for a second, but that was one of the scariest moments in my life... B-but now..." Coco: "Alentu, I-I was so scared, I-I don't know what happened..." As instructed, while still hugging Alentu, she turned her head to look behind her, and realized the nightmare she experienced really did happen. The reflections she saw were real. The bodies she got tangled up with were even more real, and they were all right behind her. https://preview.redd.it/g7j91mvnas0d1.png?width=1024&format=png&auto=webp&s=2448c5e661a34adb003dfa39743f611ed0cfb6a9 One by one, her mirror images began to climb up from their dog pile. They were all as confused as she was, though they didn't seem to recognize where they were. Getting a good look at them, she could see that they were almost exactly alike, at least in terms of appearance. Once they all realized they were looking at replicas of each other, their panic ensued. "W-what the fuck is this? God damnit, did I drink too much?" "Ah- Mom? Where are you? Where did you go? W-why am I here?" "Mimics? Damnit, what have I gotten myself into?" While their appearances were quite similar, they all seemed to have slightly different personalities and reactions. Some were confrontational and agitated, some were lost and scared, and some were speechless, still trying to understand what happened. The original one stayed in Alentu's arms, holding her close as she watched the unbelievable scene unfold. Alentu: "W-what... S-so, t-this Coco is fine, b-but all of these others have..." Alentu: "And these other Cocos... They can't go back, can they?" The crowd of altworlders began to yell and shout at the voice in the cave. "What the hell? You brought us here, but you can't bring us back?" "Shit! I have to get back home, now! I don't care if I need to give my soul to a chronomancer..." "T-this is the future? O-Or the past? Or even a d-different dimension?? No, that can't be!" "I'm not a god damn clone!" One by one, they ran away, each resolved to accomplish something different. The sudden crowd poured down the unstable mountain, until only one remained, staring back at Coco and Alentu in disbelief. Alentu: "And you?" AltCoco: "Alentu... T-thank god you're here, too?" Alentu: "Hm? Ah, so we've met in your world... Since you're here, I think we need to figure out how we're gonna fix this mess. Please, come with me..." They moved to sit by one of the many shrines near the mountain path. Alentu then led a discussion between the three, asking the other Coco what she remembered about her own world's history. Her description appeared to describe a similar reality to their own, but at an earlier point in time. As such, the events that lead her life were different, and she was only able to recognize Alentu. The two forms of Coco began to discuss more specifics about their own lives. AltCoco: "Huh, s-so you're getting married to someone else, and have a family of your own already... B-but, you're also with Alentu?" Coco: "Yes... But I'm honestly amazed to hear how differently my life could have been if I was born only a few decades earlier..." Alentu: "Where you only met me..." AltCoco: "Yes- A-and Alentu, y-you're almost exactly the same as the one I know... I-it's like I'm talking to the same person. Everything we did together matches up too... B-but now she's..." Alentu: "I'm sorry, Coco... There's not much we can do. I still love you, but..." AltCoco: "Wait! Please! Let me stay with you, Alentu! E-even though we're from different worlds, you're still the same woman I love! Please..." Alentu: "But this world's Coco is..." All three fell silent as an uncomfortable truth settled in: There were two Cocos, but only one Alentu. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that even more were out there in the world, with absolutely no way to control their actions, however reckless they may be. Despair began to creep onto the altworlder's face, tears falling from her eyes as she began to accept her cruel fate. Coco's own face was clouded deep in somber thought, but after gathering her resolve, she spoke up. Coco: "I... I have a proposal, but... You might not like it, Alentu. And it doesn't really solve our other problem..." Alentu: "We're already in a shitty situation. Please, just tell me." Coco: "My family at home needs me. I'm about to have little Iza, and... Since this Coco was ripped away from her own family... Well, I don't think she should be deprived of that joy... You should also be able to spend time with your kids..." AltCoco: "Y-you want me to raise this Alentu's kids instead of you?" Coco: "And... Stay with her... Be a good wife to her, so we all can get a happy ending..." Alentu: "But Coco- A-are you saying you want her to take your place beside me? But that would mean you, yourself, wouldn't be with me... This hurts you more than any of us!" Coco: "I suppose so... I do really care for you, but... I'm the only one that can be there for Mikhail and the kids I planned to raise with him. If we want to spend as much time as possible with family, you, Alentu, are the only family this Coco has. I don't want either of the people I care about to feel like I'm not there for them, so..." AltCoco: "I... I understand... If you're really okay with it, both of you, then... I'd be so happy... I'm honestly scared to think about what I left behind, but, if I can be with Alentu, no matter what time or place..." Alentu: "I'm okay with that... This feels... strange, but... I think it's for the best for each of our families. I love you, Coco, but I know your family needs you. I wanted to make it work despite that... I didn't want to lose you, but-" Coco: "Don't think like that, Alentu! Let's not look at this as a mistake, but a blessing... One that lets everyone find their own happiness. You didn't lose me! Instead, you'll now be able to spend all the time you like with your love! I want to protect your smile no matter what, and leaving it in the hands of someone I know will bring you happiness... I can't possibly be sad about that." AltCoco: "I agree... It means neither of our families will worry... This world's Coco can be with her family, and I can become yours, just as it was before with both of us. I want to make this work, for everyone's sake!" Alentu: "Hah... Coco, that's why I love you. You always know how to cheer me up, and make me feel loved. When I'm with you, my worries always seem to melt away... I accept your proposal. You're both my lover, so I could never look at either of you any differently. To a bright future with our families..." Alentu pulled the two in for a big hug, and gave a kiss to this world's Coco. The two shared their goodbyes and well wishes to each other before Coco sat down in front of her counterpart, a happy look on her face that inspired the other to brighten up. Alentu stood up and ruffled both of their hair, leaving the two by themselves as she waited nearby. The Cocos then turned to each other, smiling as they shook hands. Coco: "To a bright future with our families" AltCoco: "To a bright future with our families" https://preview.redd.it/klgk6wclas0d1.png?width=1024&format=png&auto=webp&s=100636d165f5d3dc02cc4cdd902b16a285b56fe0 |
2024.05.15 08:40 AngelaMerkela Choosing the Perfect Red Suit for Your Body Shape
 | When it comes to making a statement, few outfits can compete with a stunning red suit. Whether you're attending a formal event or looking to spice up your work wardrobe, a red suit can exude confidence and style. However, finding the perfect red suit for your body shape is key to looking and feeling your best. Here's a guide to help you choose the right red suit for your body type. submitted by AngelaMerkela to u/AngelaMerkela [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/xcxnncl5dj0d1.jpg?width=1500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d3da7cc0d2cfc3511f634fd0e4c08876c5c4abf2 Tips to Choose Red Suit for Your Body Shape1. Know Your Body ShapeUnderstanding your body shape is the first step in finding a flattering red suit. Common body shapes include pear, apple, hourglass, and rectangle. Each shape has its own set of guidelines for choosing the right fit and style.2. For Pear-Shaped BodiesIf you have a pear-shaped body with a smaller upper body and wider hips, opt for a red suit for women with a fitted blazer that accentuates your waist. Wide-leg pants can help balance out your proportions.3. For Apple-Shaped BodiesFor apple-shaped bodies with a fuller midsection, look for a red suit with a longer jacket that skims over your stomach. Straight-leg pants can create a streamlined look.4. For Hourglass-Shaped BodiesIf you have an hourglass figure with well-defined curves, choose a red suit that highlights your waist, such as a belted blazer or a tailored suit with a nipped-in waist.5. For Rectangle-Shaped BodiesFor rectangle-shaped bodies with a straighter silhouette, opt for a red suit with details that create curves, such as a peplum jacket or a suit with ruffles or embellishments on the top.ConclusionNo matter your body shape, there's a perfect red suit out there for you. By understanding your body shape and choosing styles that flatter your figure, you can rock a red suit with confidence and style. |
2024.05.14 21:00 Sola_Sista_94 Cookies 'n' Dreams: Parts Seven and Eight (Fanfic)
"Himiko?" Kokichi knocked on the door to Himiko and Tenko's room later that night. Himiko had taken a long nap after such a disappointing day. But, before she fell asleep, she reflected deeply on what Kokichi had told her. She had to admit that he was right, that she needed to a better attitude about herself. But, how to do that, she didn't know. She suddenly remembered his words: You should be smart, confident, and capable of doing things your way. Her way? What was her way, exactly?
"Himiko?" Kokichi whispered a little louder. Himiko opened her eyes, hearing Kokichi calling out to her. She scrambled out of bed and went over to answer the door. Kokichi smiled at her with his usual cheeky grin. "Hey, sleepyhead! Are you still planning on selling cookies?" Himiko took a deep breath and nodded. Kokichi had given her some courage to actually try things and take chances, to try and overcome self-doubt.
"Yeah. I'm ready," she said. There was still a part of her that didn't want to, but she forced that part of her into silence. She lifted her chin and smiled at him. "I'm ready, Kokichi." Kokichi smiled back at her.
"Alright, Monkey Buns!" he cheered, giving her a high five and then a hug. "Same place?"
"Alright," Himiko nodded. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She remembered what Kokichi had told her earlier about being smart and confident her way. "But, on the way over there, can we stop by my, um..." She paused to whisper. "...secret lair? "
"Ooooh?" Kokichi murmured with a curious smile. "Yeah, we can stop by." Himiko nodded and retreated back into her room to grab the two tin bowls of cookies she had baked with Three and Ten.
"Nyeh...okay, I'm ready," Himiko said. Kokichi took her hand in his, and the two crept downstairs. Some of the others were still in the dining room eating dinner, so Kokichi and Himiko had to leave through the front door to get to Himiko's secret magic room under the gazebo. Kokichi stood outside to keep watch while Himiko went inside her magic room. Once inside, she went for her magical dream powder bottle and poured some of its purple, sparkly contents into a small vial, hiding it in one of her jacket's pockets. Then, she met back up with Kokichi.
"Now I'm ready," she said.
"Okie-dokie!" Kokichi replied, taking the tin bowls from Himiko to hold them for her. "Let's go, HimikoCocoa Bean!" They then hurried over to D.I.C.E. headquarters.
"Boss!" Four said, jumping up from the couch. "And Boss Lady!"
"Hey, Ichiro," Kokichi and Himiko replied.
"Wanna hear a song that I heard on the radio?" Four asked. He cleared his throat, and began singing without waiting for a response. "If you like piña coladaaaaas, and getting caught in the rai-"
"Okay, Ichiro, that's enough," Kokichi interrupted, wincing from Four's terrible voice.
"Urgh...thank you!" Five exclaimed as she wrapped Kokichi's cape around him. After Three placed Kokichi's hat on his head, she turned to Himiko.
"So, Himiko, did you sell a lot of cookies?" she asked eagerly. Himiko gave her an apologetic look and shook her head. Three's shoulders slumped.
"Oh..." she said softly.
"What? Why?" Ten asked. "Did they not like them? Because I put all my blood, sweat, and tears into those things! Er...well, not literally...duh."
"Yeah, I hope not!" Two exclaimed, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "I bet there are people in this world who actually do stuff like that!"
"Nee-heehee...I know a very horny someone who'd do something like that," Kokichi said.
"The tin bowls are still so full!" Three said, her voice dripping with disappointment.
"It's not really the cookies that people didn't like, Keiko," Himiko said. "It was because of me."
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Nine asked.
"Well, I'm not really popular at school to begin with," Himiko said. "But, I wasn't really trying my best to sell them because I didn't think I could."
"Ouch," Six muttered.
"Oh, well...still!" Three huffed. "They could have at least tried your cookies, anyways! Those...those...clowns! " Then she turned to nobody in particular. "No offense, me," she mumbled to herself before turning back to Himiko.
"Hey, no offense to the rest of us, either!" Four said.
"Should we take offense?" Nine asked. "It's not like we're actual professional clow-"
"We get it, Hideyo!" everyone but Himiko interrupted simultaneously.
"Nyeh, well...anyways, thanks to Kokichi, I've decided to try again," Himiko said, giving Kokichi a shy smile.
"Aww, HimiCocoa Bean, you're making me blush!" Kokichi teased, wrapping his arm around her waist. "But, I only get half the credit. You should give yourself credit, too!"
"And you should give us those cookies," Four said, pointing to the tin bowls in Kokichi's hand.
"Himiko, are you still going to sell these?" Kokichi asked. Himiko thought for a moment. She remembered what Tsumugi said about chocolate chip cookies being plain and boring.
"No," she finally answered. "Actually, I've decided to go with Ten's plan from earlier."
"Right! Um...wait, what plan was that again?" Ten asked.
"The plan to make the snickerdoodles," Himiko said.
"Oh, yeah!" Ten remembered, a grin crossing his face.
"But, I wanna add a secret ingredient of mine," Himiko said.
"I hope it's not blood, sweat, and tears," Two said, shuddering.
"Why not?" Seven asked with a creepy smile. "Don't you like that salty, metallic flavor in your cookies?"
"Ew! Yuck! Kokichi, make her stop!" Five said, covering her ears.
"Tsukiko, don't make me tell Emi to get Mr. Sparkles," Kokichi warned. Seven hid under a blanket.
"No, please. Anything but that accursed pink and plushy unicorn!" she hissed. Five grinned smugly at her.
"Can we help you bake again, Himiko?" Three asked hopefully.
"Nyeh...of course!" Himiko answered.
"Neat-o! Let's get started!" Ten said, rubbing his hands enthusiastically. Kokichi nodded to Himiko encouragingly, and she followed Three and Ten to the kitchen. They soon got started on the batter. Himiko removed the vial of dream powder from her pocket.
"Oooo! What is that stuff?" Three asked, entranced by the purple, glittery powder.
"Hopefully the thing that'll win over any potential customers," Himiko answered before pouring the powder into the mixture. She mixed the batter until it became a shiny, glittering harmony of many colors.
"Holy Constantinople-y!" Ten exclaimed. "What the heck kind of secret ingredient is that?!"
"The batter looks so...pretty!" Three breathed in awe. "It's so...shiny and sparkly!" Then, she lowered her voice. "Is this...some of your magic, Himiko?"
"Nyeh...that's right," Himiko nodded.
"I know this is might sound like a dumb question, but...are you allowed to do that?" Ten asked.
"Nobody at school knows about my magic except for Kokichi," Himiko said. "So, technically, it's not not allowed. And besides, Kokichi said that I need to be smart and confident my way. And magic is my way of doing just that."
Part Eight
Sunday afternoon. Himiko took a deep breath, deeply breathing in the warm air as a gentle breeze flowed around her. Today, she felt lucky. She stood behind her table at the front of the school. Above her was a more colorful, glittery sign she and Three had worked on with the word, "Snoozydoodles," written in swirly letters. Hopefully it would be enough to bring in some customers. Her snickerdoodles were laid out on three large trays in front of her so that the other students could see their colorful and sparkly design.
"Hiya, Himiko!" came a cheerful voice. Himiko looked up and was surprised to see Three.
"Keiko?" she whispered. "Nyeh...what are you doing here?"
"I decided to come and cheer you on...and to make sure the turd buckets here buy your cookies," Three replied. "I put some love and special care into those cookies, and I didn't bust my tail just to have nobody buy them!"
"Nyeh...but...Ten and I worked on them, too," Himiko pointed out. "And I put my 'special ingredient' in them."
"I know," Three said. "But, I feel like if I worked hard on something, either by myself or in a group, I'd like for the world to see it, that's all."
"I understand," Himiko said with a small smile. "Wait...this is supposed to be a competition between me and Kokichi! I don't think he'd appreciate you helping me out, especially since I should be doing this myself."
"Well, I'll just be here for emotional support, then!" Three said. Himiko smiled gratefully and nodded.
"I guess that's okay," she said. " Thanks, Keiko. I like your outfit, by the way." Three scanned her outfit proudly. Instead of her D.I.C.E. uniform, she wore an oversized, cream-colored fluffy sweater over a short, pink ruffled skirt. She wore a pair of white tights with some loose pink socks and a pair of black and white checkered lolita shoes with pink straps. In her hair were pink bows over each pigtail.
"Eeee! Thank you!" she squealed happily. "It's not very often I get to go out in cutesy clothes like this, unless I'm undercover! Well...I guess you might say I'm going undercover right now, but...eh, whatever."
"Speaking of which, why are your shoes checkered?" Himiko asked. "Won't that give you away? Part of the reason why people know your organization is because of the checker pattern scarves...which makes me wonder how people haven't suspected Kokichi being part of...you-know-what."
"Heehee...I call that the 'Sailor Moon Effect,'" Three giggled. "But, anyway, when members of the organization are wearing casual clothes, we have to wear some article of clothing with a black and white checkered pattern to let other members know our affiliation. The beauty of it is that there are people not affiliated with us who wear checker patterned clothing, so it gives us a chance to blend in as if we're just regular people. That's why we have a codeword to tell the difference between members and the 'reggies.'"
"What's the codeword?" Himiko asked. Three leaned in closer to Himiko.
"'Funny business,' " she whispered.
"Nyeh...that's actually really cool," Himiko admitted with a smile.
"Yeah! You should really join, Himiko!" Three said. "I think you'll have lots of fun!"
"Fun with what?" asked Tenko, suddenly appearing with Angie and Tsumugi behind her. She had a frown on her face and marched right up to Three. "Himiko, who's this girl, and what's she trying to get you to join? WAIT!! Is this girl the friend you were talking about?! The one who helped you bake cookies yesterday?!"
"Yeah," Himiko nodded.
"Hey! I recognize you!" Angie said. "You're one of the girls who rescued Himiko from that crazy girl many months ago!" Three brightened.
"Yeah! That's me!" she said.
"Tuh...I could have rescued Himiko, you know," Tenko huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Three.
"Well...why didn't you?" Three asked.
"Urgh...!" Tenko scoffed. "Who do you think you are?!"
"I'm Michika!" Three lied, using one of her aliases. "I'm here to support Himiko with her cookie sale!"
"She doesn't need your support," Tenko said, stepping in between Three and Himiko. "Himiko already has me! Right, Himiko?"
"Umm..." Himiko mumbled.
"Of course you do!" Tenko interrupted.
"But...you didn't even let her finish," Three said.
"I didn't have to," Tenko said. "I already knew what she was thinking because we're best friends."
"Well...then...if you're her best friend, why dont'cha buy a cookie?" Three suggested craftily.
"Hmph! I will!" Tenko scoffed and turned to Himiko. "How much for a cookie, Himiko?"
"Nyeh...same as before," Himiko answered. Tenko paid ¥500 and grabbed a shimmery, glittering light green snickerdoodle from one of the trays. "Ooo, these are pretty, Himiko! Did you bake them all by yourself?"
"No, um...Michika helped me again," Himiko answered. Tenko glared at Three and flipped her hair at her.
"Well...they're okay, then," she said haughtily. "But, they're extra special because you helped, Himiko!"
"What are these cookies called, Himiko?" Tsumugi asked, scrutinizing a glittering blue cookie.
"Nyeh...they're called 'Snoozydoodles,'" Himiko answered. "They're snickerdoodles, but a special kind of snickerdoodles."
"Oooo! Why are they called 'Snoozydoodles?'" asked Angie.
"You have to eat them right before going to sleep to find out," Himiko answered mysteriously. Tenko hovered her cookie in front of her mouth.
"Oh! So, I have to eat this right before bed?" she asked.
"That's right," Himiko nodded.
"Aw, that's so creative, Himiko!" Tenko cried in adoration. "You're really clever, too! I bet you thought of the name!" Three rolled her eyes in annoyance. Himiko provided a little baggy for Tenko to put her cookie in, and provided some for Angie and Tsumugi, as well, after they had paid for their cookies.
"Thank you, Himiko," Tsumugi said.
"Yes! Yes! Thank you, Himiko!" Angie chirped.
"Well...I guess we'd better try out the other cookies," Tsumugi said. "Everyone else said they'd have different flavors of cookies, too. Although, I don't think I'll try Kokichi's after what happened yesterday. I can plainly still feel the burn on my tongue."
"Hmm...I thought his cookies were divine!" Angie exclaimed. "I have never felt such an intense rush of heat before! Especially in a cookie!"
"Leave it up to a degenerate male to bake something so...horrible! " Tenko spat. Three raised a brow at her.
"Degenerate male?" she repeated. She didn't like hearing her boss being referred to that way.
"Yeah! Males are all scum of the Earth!" Tenko said. "Kind of like...best friend stealers."
"I wasn't trying to steal your best friend," Three said, fed up with Tenko.
"Huh...why did you assume I was talking about you? " Tenko asked. "You know what happens to people who assume things, don't you?"
"They end up knocking all 32 teeth out of the person accusing them of assuming things?" Three replied, trying to keep her cool.
"And you're violent!" Tenko shouted. "You're clearly a bad influence on Himiko!" Three stared at her in disbelief, creating an awkward silence to linger in the air.
"Well, um...I guess we should be going then," Tsumugi said, hurriedly yanking Angie away. "C'mon, Angie. Tenko? Are you coming?"
"No. I think I'll stay right here and help Himiko, since she clearly needs my support," Tenko said, glowering at Three.
"Tenko..." Himiko sighed in exasperation, but Three merely smiled sweetly at Tenko.
"Oh, my gosh! Where'd you get your outfit?" she asked. Tenko looked down quizzically at her outfit.
"W-Why...do you want to know?" she replied with suspicion.
"It's just so pretty!" Three replied. "Are you, like, the Ultimate Princess, or the Ultimate Cheerleader, or something?"
"Um...n-no...I'm the Ultimate Aikido Master," Tenko stammered as a small blush appeared on her face.
"Oh, wow! That's even better!" Three exclaimed. "I bet you give those...degenerate males...what they deserve all the time!" The hardened look on Tenko's face from before disappeared.
"You bet I do!" she said proudly.
"Oh...I wish I could be like you!" Three breathed. "You're, like, my hero! I bet you're a hero to girls everywhere!" Tenko lowered her head bashfully, blushing like crazy.
"N-No...I'm not all that...great," she sputtered.
"I bet you'd do anything for girls, huh?" Three asked.
"Oh, yes!" Tenko answered. "So long as you aren't a degenerate male, you're a friend of mine!"
Says the girl who just accused me of stealing her best friend, Three thought to herself. "Hooray! I'm happy to hear that! But...to tell you the truth, I can't believe you just ditched your other friends. They were girls, after all, and you just let them walk right into the school where they could be potential prey for those boys-er...I mean, degenerate males." Tenko gasped with realization.
"Oh, my gosh! You're so right!" she cried. "But...what about Himiko?"
"I'll look after her," Three said. "You trust me, right? I am a girl after all."
"Ohhh...well, okay," Tenko said. Then, she smiled. "I'll trust you, Michika! Take care of Himiko!"
"Oh, I will!" Three said. "Bye! Goodbye!" Tenko waved goodbye, leaving Himiko and Three alone. Three exhaled. "Finally, she's gone!" Himiko stared at her in amazement.
"Nyeh...that was incredible!" she cried. Three shrugged modestly.
"Yeah, I guess I picked up a little bit of manipulation skills from the boss," she said. "He's way better at it than I am, though! That girl was so annoying, by the way! Is she seriously your best friend?!"
"Well, yeah, I guess," Himiko answered. "She wants to support and protect me all the time."
"Sounds more like she wants to breastfeed you, or wipe your butt after you poop," Three said in disgust. She and Himiko shuddered at the thought. "Well, anyways, now that 'Tin Cup' is gone, let's put you on the cookie map!"
"Right!" Himiko said, and gave Three a high five.
submitted by Sola_Sista_94 to danganronpa [link] [comments]
"Himiko?" Kokichi whispered a little louder. Himiko opened her eyes, hearing Kokichi calling out to her. She scrambled out of bed and went over to answer the door. Kokichi smiled at her with his usual cheeky grin. "Hey, sleepyhead! Are you still planning on selling cookies?" Himiko took a deep breath and nodded. Kokichi had given her some courage to actually try things and take chances, to try and overcome self-doubt.
"Yeah. I'm ready," she said. There was still a part of her that didn't want to, but she forced that part of her into silence. She lifted her chin and smiled at him. "I'm ready, Kokichi." Kokichi smiled back at her.
"Alright, Monkey Buns!" he cheered, giving her a high five and then a hug. "Same place?"
"Alright," Himiko nodded. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She remembered what Kokichi had told her earlier about being smart and confident her way. "But, on the way over there, can we stop by my, um..." She paused to whisper. "...secret lair? "
"Ooooh?" Kokichi murmured with a curious smile. "Yeah, we can stop by." Himiko nodded and retreated back into her room to grab the two tin bowls of cookies she had baked with Three and Ten.
"Nyeh...okay, I'm ready," Himiko said. Kokichi took her hand in his, and the two crept downstairs. Some of the others were still in the dining room eating dinner, so Kokichi and Himiko had to leave through the front door to get to Himiko's secret magic room under the gazebo. Kokichi stood outside to keep watch while Himiko went inside her magic room. Once inside, she went for her magical dream powder bottle and poured some of its purple, sparkly contents into a small vial, hiding it in one of her jacket's pockets. Then, she met back up with Kokichi.
"Now I'm ready," she said.
"Okie-dokie!" Kokichi replied, taking the tin bowls from Himiko to hold them for her. "Let's go, HimikoCocoa Bean!" They then hurried over to D.I.C.E. headquarters.
"Boss!" Four said, jumping up from the couch. "And Boss Lady!"
"Hey, Ichiro," Kokichi and Himiko replied.
"Wanna hear a song that I heard on the radio?" Four asked. He cleared his throat, and began singing without waiting for a response. "If you like piña coladaaaaas, and getting caught in the rai-"
"Okay, Ichiro, that's enough," Kokichi interrupted, wincing from Four's terrible voice.
"Urgh...thank you!" Five exclaimed as she wrapped Kokichi's cape around him. After Three placed Kokichi's hat on his head, she turned to Himiko.
"So, Himiko, did you sell a lot of cookies?" she asked eagerly. Himiko gave her an apologetic look and shook her head. Three's shoulders slumped.
"Oh..." she said softly.
"What? Why?" Ten asked. "Did they not like them? Because I put all my blood, sweat, and tears into those things! Er...well, not literally...duh."
"Yeah, I hope not!" Two exclaimed, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "I bet there are people in this world who actually do stuff like that!"
"Nee-heehee...I know a very horny someone who'd do something like that," Kokichi said.
"The tin bowls are still so full!" Three said, her voice dripping with disappointment.
"It's not really the cookies that people didn't like, Keiko," Himiko said. "It was because of me."
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Nine asked.
"Well, I'm not really popular at school to begin with," Himiko said. "But, I wasn't really trying my best to sell them because I didn't think I could."
"Ouch," Six muttered.
"Oh, well...still!" Three huffed. "They could have at least tried your cookies, anyways! Those...those...clowns! " Then she turned to nobody in particular. "No offense, me," she mumbled to herself before turning back to Himiko.
"Hey, no offense to the rest of us, either!" Four said.
"Should we take offense?" Nine asked. "It's not like we're actual professional clow-"
"We get it, Hideyo!" everyone but Himiko interrupted simultaneously.
"Nyeh, well...anyways, thanks to Kokichi, I've decided to try again," Himiko said, giving Kokichi a shy smile.
"Aww, HimiCocoa Bean, you're making me blush!" Kokichi teased, wrapping his arm around her waist. "But, I only get half the credit. You should give yourself credit, too!"
"And you should give us those cookies," Four said, pointing to the tin bowls in Kokichi's hand.
"Himiko, are you still going to sell these?" Kokichi asked. Himiko thought for a moment. She remembered what Tsumugi said about chocolate chip cookies being plain and boring.
"No," she finally answered. "Actually, I've decided to go with Ten's plan from earlier."
"Right! Um...wait, what plan was that again?" Ten asked.
"The plan to make the snickerdoodles," Himiko said.
"Oh, yeah!" Ten remembered, a grin crossing his face.
"But, I wanna add a secret ingredient of mine," Himiko said.
"I hope it's not blood, sweat, and tears," Two said, shuddering.
"Why not?" Seven asked with a creepy smile. "Don't you like that salty, metallic flavor in your cookies?"
"Ew! Yuck! Kokichi, make her stop!" Five said, covering her ears.
"Tsukiko, don't make me tell Emi to get Mr. Sparkles," Kokichi warned. Seven hid under a blanket.
"No, please. Anything but that accursed pink and plushy unicorn!" she hissed. Five grinned smugly at her.
"Can we help you bake again, Himiko?" Three asked hopefully.
"Nyeh...of course!" Himiko answered.
"Neat-o! Let's get started!" Ten said, rubbing his hands enthusiastically. Kokichi nodded to Himiko encouragingly, and she followed Three and Ten to the kitchen. They soon got started on the batter. Himiko removed the vial of dream powder from her pocket.
"Oooo! What is that stuff?" Three asked, entranced by the purple, glittery powder.
"Hopefully the thing that'll win over any potential customers," Himiko answered before pouring the powder into the mixture. She mixed the batter until it became a shiny, glittering harmony of many colors.
"Holy Constantinople-y!" Ten exclaimed. "What the heck kind of secret ingredient is that?!"
"The batter looks so...pretty!" Three breathed in awe. "It's so...shiny and sparkly!" Then, she lowered her voice. "Is this...some of your magic, Himiko?"
"Nyeh...that's right," Himiko nodded.
"I know this is might sound like a dumb question, but...are you allowed to do that?" Ten asked.
"Nobody at school knows about my magic except for Kokichi," Himiko said. "So, technically, it's not not allowed. And besides, Kokichi said that I need to be smart and confident my way. And magic is my way of doing just that."
Part Eight
Sunday afternoon. Himiko took a deep breath, deeply breathing in the warm air as a gentle breeze flowed around her. Today, she felt lucky. She stood behind her table at the front of the school. Above her was a more colorful, glittery sign she and Three had worked on with the word, "Snoozydoodles," written in swirly letters. Hopefully it would be enough to bring in some customers. Her snickerdoodles were laid out on three large trays in front of her so that the other students could see their colorful and sparkly design.
"Hiya, Himiko!" came a cheerful voice. Himiko looked up and was surprised to see Three.
"Keiko?" she whispered. "Nyeh...what are you doing here?"
"I decided to come and cheer you on...and to make sure the turd buckets here buy your cookies," Three replied. "I put some love and special care into those cookies, and I didn't bust my tail just to have nobody buy them!"
"Nyeh...but...Ten and I worked on them, too," Himiko pointed out. "And I put my 'special ingredient' in them."
"I know," Three said. "But, I feel like if I worked hard on something, either by myself or in a group, I'd like for the world to see it, that's all."
"I understand," Himiko said with a small smile. "Wait...this is supposed to be a competition between me and Kokichi! I don't think he'd appreciate you helping me out, especially since I should be doing this myself."
"Well, I'll just be here for emotional support, then!" Three said. Himiko smiled gratefully and nodded.
"I guess that's okay," she said. " Thanks, Keiko. I like your outfit, by the way." Three scanned her outfit proudly. Instead of her D.I.C.E. uniform, she wore an oversized, cream-colored fluffy sweater over a short, pink ruffled skirt. She wore a pair of white tights with some loose pink socks and a pair of black and white checkered lolita shoes with pink straps. In her hair were pink bows over each pigtail.
"Eeee! Thank you!" she squealed happily. "It's not very often I get to go out in cutesy clothes like this, unless I'm undercover! Well...I guess you might say I'm going undercover right now, but...eh, whatever."
"Speaking of which, why are your shoes checkered?" Himiko asked. "Won't that give you away? Part of the reason why people know your organization is because of the checker pattern scarves...which makes me wonder how people haven't suspected Kokichi being part of...you-know-what."
"Heehee...I call that the 'Sailor Moon Effect,'" Three giggled. "But, anyway, when members of the organization are wearing casual clothes, we have to wear some article of clothing with a black and white checkered pattern to let other members know our affiliation. The beauty of it is that there are people not affiliated with us who wear checker patterned clothing, so it gives us a chance to blend in as if we're just regular people. That's why we have a codeword to tell the difference between members and the 'reggies.'"
"What's the codeword?" Himiko asked. Three leaned in closer to Himiko.
"'Funny business,' " she whispered.
"Nyeh...that's actually really cool," Himiko admitted with a smile.
"Yeah! You should really join, Himiko!" Three said. "I think you'll have lots of fun!"
"Fun with what?" asked Tenko, suddenly appearing with Angie and Tsumugi behind her. She had a frown on her face and marched right up to Three. "Himiko, who's this girl, and what's she trying to get you to join? WAIT!! Is this girl the friend you were talking about?! The one who helped you bake cookies yesterday?!"
"Yeah," Himiko nodded.
"Hey! I recognize you!" Angie said. "You're one of the girls who rescued Himiko from that crazy girl many months ago!" Three brightened.
"Yeah! That's me!" she said.
"Tuh...I could have rescued Himiko, you know," Tenko huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Three.
"Well...why didn't you?" Three asked.
"Urgh...!" Tenko scoffed. "Who do you think you are?!"
"I'm Michika!" Three lied, using one of her aliases. "I'm here to support Himiko with her cookie sale!"
"She doesn't need your support," Tenko said, stepping in between Three and Himiko. "Himiko already has me! Right, Himiko?"
"Umm..." Himiko mumbled.
"Of course you do!" Tenko interrupted.
"But...you didn't even let her finish," Three said.
"I didn't have to," Tenko said. "I already knew what she was thinking because we're best friends."
"Well...then...if you're her best friend, why dont'cha buy a cookie?" Three suggested craftily.
"Hmph! I will!" Tenko scoffed and turned to Himiko. "How much for a cookie, Himiko?"
"Nyeh...same as before," Himiko answered. Tenko paid ¥500 and grabbed a shimmery, glittering light green snickerdoodle from one of the trays. "Ooo, these are pretty, Himiko! Did you bake them all by yourself?"
"No, um...Michika helped me again," Himiko answered. Tenko glared at Three and flipped her hair at her.
"Well...they're okay, then," she said haughtily. "But, they're extra special because you helped, Himiko!"
"What are these cookies called, Himiko?" Tsumugi asked, scrutinizing a glittering blue cookie.
"Nyeh...they're called 'Snoozydoodles,'" Himiko answered. "They're snickerdoodles, but a special kind of snickerdoodles."
"Oooo! Why are they called 'Snoozydoodles?'" asked Angie.
"You have to eat them right before going to sleep to find out," Himiko answered mysteriously. Tenko hovered her cookie in front of her mouth.
"Oh! So, I have to eat this right before bed?" she asked.
"That's right," Himiko nodded.
"Aw, that's so creative, Himiko!" Tenko cried in adoration. "You're really clever, too! I bet you thought of the name!" Three rolled her eyes in annoyance. Himiko provided a little baggy for Tenko to put her cookie in, and provided some for Angie and Tsumugi, as well, after they had paid for their cookies.
"Thank you, Himiko," Tsumugi said.
"Yes! Yes! Thank you, Himiko!" Angie chirped.
"Well...I guess we'd better try out the other cookies," Tsumugi said. "Everyone else said they'd have different flavors of cookies, too. Although, I don't think I'll try Kokichi's after what happened yesterday. I can plainly still feel the burn on my tongue."
"Hmm...I thought his cookies were divine!" Angie exclaimed. "I have never felt such an intense rush of heat before! Especially in a cookie!"
"Leave it up to a degenerate male to bake something so...horrible! " Tenko spat. Three raised a brow at her.
"Degenerate male?" she repeated. She didn't like hearing her boss being referred to that way.
"Yeah! Males are all scum of the Earth!" Tenko said. "Kind of like...best friend stealers."
"I wasn't trying to steal your best friend," Three said, fed up with Tenko.
"Huh...why did you assume I was talking about you? " Tenko asked. "You know what happens to people who assume things, don't you?"
"They end up knocking all 32 teeth out of the person accusing them of assuming things?" Three replied, trying to keep her cool.
"And you're violent!" Tenko shouted. "You're clearly a bad influence on Himiko!" Three stared at her in disbelief, creating an awkward silence to linger in the air.
"Well, um...I guess we should be going then," Tsumugi said, hurriedly yanking Angie away. "C'mon, Angie. Tenko? Are you coming?"
"No. I think I'll stay right here and help Himiko, since she clearly needs my support," Tenko said, glowering at Three.
"Tenko..." Himiko sighed in exasperation, but Three merely smiled sweetly at Tenko.
"Oh, my gosh! Where'd you get your outfit?" she asked. Tenko looked down quizzically at her outfit.
"W-Why...do you want to know?" she replied with suspicion.
"It's just so pretty!" Three replied. "Are you, like, the Ultimate Princess, or the Ultimate Cheerleader, or something?"
"Um...n-no...I'm the Ultimate Aikido Master," Tenko stammered as a small blush appeared on her face.
"Oh, wow! That's even better!" Three exclaimed. "I bet you give those...degenerate males...what they deserve all the time!" The hardened look on Tenko's face from before disappeared.
"You bet I do!" she said proudly.
"Oh...I wish I could be like you!" Three breathed. "You're, like, my hero! I bet you're a hero to girls everywhere!" Tenko lowered her head bashfully, blushing like crazy.
"N-No...I'm not all that...great," she sputtered.
"I bet you'd do anything for girls, huh?" Three asked.
"Oh, yes!" Tenko answered. "So long as you aren't a degenerate male, you're a friend of mine!"
Says the girl who just accused me of stealing her best friend, Three thought to herself. "Hooray! I'm happy to hear that! But...to tell you the truth, I can't believe you just ditched your other friends. They were girls, after all, and you just let them walk right into the school where they could be potential prey for those boys-er...I mean, degenerate males." Tenko gasped with realization.
"Oh, my gosh! You're so right!" she cried. "But...what about Himiko?"
"I'll look after her," Three said. "You trust me, right? I am a girl after all."
"Ohhh...well, okay," Tenko said. Then, she smiled. "I'll trust you, Michika! Take care of Himiko!"
"Oh, I will!" Three said. "Bye! Goodbye!" Tenko waved goodbye, leaving Himiko and Three alone. Three exhaled. "Finally, she's gone!" Himiko stared at her in amazement.
"Nyeh...that was incredible!" she cried. Three shrugged modestly.
"Yeah, I guess I picked up a little bit of manipulation skills from the boss," she said. "He's way better at it than I am, though! That girl was so annoying, by the way! Is she seriously your best friend?!"
"Well, yeah, I guess," Himiko answered. "She wants to support and protect me all the time."
"Sounds more like she wants to breastfeed you, or wipe your butt after you poop," Three said in disgust. She and Himiko shuddered at the thought. "Well, anyways, now that 'Tin Cup' is gone, let's put you on the cookie map!"
"Right!" Himiko said, and gave Three a high five.
2024.05.13 23:15 oftenfrequently Comparing the HTT strategies for each of the main families
 | Fair warning, this is gonna be a long one :) submitted by oftenfrequently to Kibbe [link] [comments] I started working on this for my own purposes because I’m fascinated by the similarities and differences between the HTT styling approaches Kibbe recommends for the different ID families, but then thought it might be helpful to share with the sub. I always see lots of mention of “lines,” but the overall HTT approach for each ID is sometimes (often) oversimplified. Plus all the other very fun elements that make up a HTT are, imo, getting short shrift! There are a few users who have posted amazing full HTTs for their IDs and I'm hoping even more people will be inspired to explore. So what even is this post? Basically, I went through the styling directives in Metamorphosis (Chapter 4) for the main families and directly compared the recommendations for the IDs on a number of smaller, more discrete variables because my brain finds it more digestible that way. I only did the main families because “you’re a [insert family here] first and foremost!!” is a thing regardless of your ID ;) And I thought it was more interesting to compare the elements of the pure families without the influence of any other undercurrents. Also it just would have been a lot of work to do all of them 🙃. A few notes before getting to the good stuff
And of course you can always read Metamorphosis for yourself in full here, which I highly recommend! 1. SilhouetteThis section is related to the base silhouette of an outfit - the overall shape of garments that make up a HTT and how they relate to one another. For the purposes of this category, I'm defining "ensemble" as the pieces look related or like they were purchased together, which I believe is the sense Kibbe uses it in.https://preview.redd.it/8earo8fbm70d1.jpg?width=1965&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=40f17625fbfc45cc723b9cc83d447111428d8b02 Shapes
2. FabricThis category is pretty self-explanatory I hope!https://preview.redd.it/94e76p19190d1.jpg?width=1976&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=816214030ae525dd16ec2e071426eab1e571c544 Definition
3. PrintsAlso self-explanatory!https://preview.redd.it/nn24my93490d1.jpg?width=1920&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3a8d47c3a4d4d5984b6cac8d9deeccdf7da834c4 Pattern
4. Garment DetailThis category is related to the details within the confines of the outline of a garment. So things like necklines, collars, effects like beading and sequins, trim, buttons, etc etc.https://preview.redd.it/342pwi6y390d1.jpg?width=1971&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=64115f1045c7a3cb6d9ac1d6d843754ca943a603 Shape - sharp vs soft
5. ColorY'all know what colors are :)https://preview.redd.it/5he7hmfk790d1.jpg?width=1949&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=bc59971dc9518bfbd276300feccba5838f4d7971 Number
6. AccessoriesThe category for everything else - bags, hats, shoes, jewelry, belts, etc etc.https://preview.redd.it/ek7fu7oz790d1.jpg?width=1923&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7c24f3db63656cef4a8da916665ba0f19893cc86 Scale
7. In closing, some keywordsPicked out from the sections for each main family. I find these helpful to kind of paint a word picture of the overall vibe each family is recommended to go for.
|
2024.05.13 22:54 Trash_Tia I can smell when someone is going to die, and my Scholastic Decathlon team stink of rotting lemons.
I'm pretty sure I'm going to be dead in the next 24 hours.
Whether that's the Costella family, or whatever this is, I'm not sure.
The police are taking forever, and part of me knows they're either refusing to believe me, or RC got them too.
I'm holed up on our school bus, so I've got nothing better to do.
I want to tell you about my team.
We met in our sophomore year.
Strangers standing outside the club room.
Levi was the freckled brunette who wouldn't stop talking about Game of Thrones.
Sunny, a pretty redhead, told him to shut up.
Tom, a sandy blonde, nodding his head to music corked in his ears.
I just wanted to be part of a club, and get away from my overbearing mother.
I won't say it was a perfect start. Our school was lacking in funding, so anyone could join, which made us more of a Quiz Club. I had some serious anxiety, so I stayed on the sidelines for a while, watching, rather than taking part.
It's not like we actually talked to each other initially. The first few weeks, we played Jeopardy, and attempted to find more members to cement us as an official Academic Decathlon club.
Unfortunately, though, it was just the four of us.
Which made it extremely hard for us to be taken seriously.
According to Google, Academic Decathlon teams were made up of nine members, placed by their GPA.
Our principal laughed at us, but he did let us become official.
Which was out of pity, I assumed.
The club was assembled, and we started meeting up after school.
Sort of.
Sunny barely showed up, and Levi didn't take anything seriously, preferring to spend the time telling us about his weird family turf-war.
Our principal dumped us in a tiny classroom with a resident rat living under the floorboards.
There was barely enough room to move, and the four of us crammed together for three hours was less than appealing.
Still, though, I wanted to be part of a club.
I had grown up with parents who were obsessed with board games, so I was pretty good at general knowledge questions. Our club room was too small for anything else but three desks (Sunny and I shared one) and a whiteboard we had to shove through the door.
But, again, we didn't start as an Academic club.
It was more akin to Story Time Club.
Arriving late on my third day, armed with quiz cards from home, I found Tom and Sunny completely mesmerised by Levi’s storytelling skills, drowned in shadow.
They didn't even turn the lights on.
I strictly remember squeezing next to Sunny, and hearing the words, “But there was so much blood all over the floor, and my Mom told me to go upstairs and hide under the bed…”
Sitting in front of them was Levi, perched on a desk, his legs swinging, a whiteboard marker between his teeth.
Sometimes he'd get up, and illustrate parts of his story.
It sucked that his drawings were all stick people.
I won't go into full details of his life, but Levi grew up as part of a family who had… interesting methods of making a living. I had seen the guy’s father multiple times when we hung out at his place, and, yeah, my friend’s family definitely had Soprano vibes.
Levi’s Draw My Life was nothing to do with the club, but it did bring us closer.
Even if, at that point, I was considering leaving.
But it's not like it was easy to walk away from these guys. It's like finding your soulmates. Levi wasn't the only one with an interesting life. Sunny Lang was an ex kpop trainee, who was kicked out for being too fat, which led her to develop a severe eating disorder, and a hatred for her own body.
Sunny explained her family were originally from Boston, her mother growing up in Korea.
She signed up for an idol agency focusing on creating a new girl group, and had gotten all the way to the final stages, before being kicked for her weight. Sunny told us her story with a smile, though there was a hollowness in her eyes I couldn't ignore. The other girls were judgemental bullies, and the idol diet and brutal regime almost killed her.
Sunny lived in a tiny apartment with 9 girls, who would tear each other apart for a chance to debut. Sunny said all the other girls debuted, and when we (not so patiently) asked for names, she shrugged, admitting she signed an NDA that prevented her spilling the beans.
What she did say, was the K-pop idol is a product, not a person– and are made and moulded into a product.
She had zero interest in throwing her humanity away to become a manufactured doll.
So, one of us was the son of an underground family, and the other was an ex idol.
Tom was an aspiring horror writer with a famous older step-brother.
His story times were usually, That one time I went to the Met Gala.
When it was my turn to reveal my story, I told them the only interesting thing about me.
I could smell when something bad was going to happen.
They laughed, but I was being serious.
When I was a kid, I smelled my mother’s brain tumor.
I remember it smelled like curdled milk.
I asked Mom why her head smelled of mouldy milk, and Mom laughed and said it was her shampoo.
It was actually a grade two tumor growing inside her brain.
Thankfully, the tumour was found quickly and removed.
Growing older, I became sensitive to smell. The little girl choking on the bus smelled of singed wood, and the old man crossing the road stunk of gasoline.
In the fourth grade, my classmate Alex Castor smelled of lemons all morning.
I sat behind him, choking on the stink all the way through class.
Ever since I met him, Alex had always smelled… off.
It was a distinct smell I could never understand, and as the days and months and years went by, that smell morphed into a subtle orangey musk that was so strong I had to cover my mouth and nose. Then, he smelled like lemons.
During Recess, I watched Alex fall off of the jungle gym, straight onto his head.
Alex Castor was dead before the paramedics arrived, my panicked teacher attempting CPR when his brains were leaking out of his ears.
The school claimed it was an accident, but Alex would have been fine if the jungle gym wasn't built on solid concrete.
I told my team members this, and Levi was sceptical.
“You can smell bad things?” He said, his lips curved around his milkshake straw. In the early days, we hung out in the local bar. It's not like we were allowed inside, but Levi could get us in anywhere.
I was squeezed between Tom and Sunny, while Levi took the seat opposite us. I couldn't help noticing our waitress was insisting on free milkshake refills, her frantic eyes glued to Levi.
I had zero idea why. Levi Costella was about as intimidating as a fruit fly.
Wearing a white shirt with a popped collar, a leather jacket thrown over the top, Levi was giving rebellious Harvard student, rather than son of a crime family.
Leaning forward, he raised a brow, clearly not believing me.
“So, you're like a stink psychic?”
I shrugged, sipping my own shake.
“Sure.”
I wasn't planning on telling him the club room smelled off on our first day.
Once we actually started the club, Levi surprised us as the smartest member, and getting to know him further, I came to the realization his family were infamous in our town.
However, his parents hid it well. Lucy and Michael Costella were the owners of a popular ramen store in our town, hiding under the facade of two successful business owners. The Costella’s were an attractive family.
Lucy was a sophisticated brunette with a lipstick smile, Michael, a handsome fluffy haired man who looked like he modelled glasses.
The two were fiercely protective over their youngest son, not so casually reminding us behind grinning smiles, that if anything happened to Levi, we would automatically be involved in the family.
I mean, they did laugh and say, “We’re joking! Look at your little faces!” when Sunny went deathly pale. But there was definitely truth behind their words.
Being Levi’s friend was… challenging at first.
Tom and I were in his room studying for finals, and an alarm went off, flooding Levi’s room in red light.
I had zero idea where it was coming from, but it locked all the doors and windows, forcing the Costella residence into temporary lockdown. Levi didn't seem fazed, casually mentioning his parents were taking care of it.
He had a whiteboard set up in his room, and was standing in front of it, cramming all of our textbook notes into one easily digestible drawing.
Levi wasn't just smart.
He was Ivy League smart, so we had struck gold with him.
His family were questionable, and yes, sometimes I did fear for my life, but as the more time we spent at his house, the Costella household became a second home. We got used to the alarms.
I just brought along ear plugs.
I wish I was writing this post about Levi’s family, and sure, they are a factor in what is going on right now, but I want to preface this by saying the events below involve the 2024 scholastic decathlon final in our town with the school’s listed:
Starbrook High School.
Ratcliffe High School.
Please note, the incident that took place last night was immediately covered up, and all phone footage was destroyed. Our town is mostly out of the way, and does not show up on Google searches.
We also have our own version of the academic decathlon, which is a more town-level competition, due to lacking funds. The four of us were desperate to start competing with our schools.
So, we started taking things a little more seriously.
We got a coach.
Mr Hanes, who was hesitant at first.
In his words, “You will hate me as your coach.”
He started by recruiting more members, announcing, “If you want to be taken seriously as an actual club, then I'll be taking the reins from now on.”
He did, and with our teachers guidance (and sometimes brutal honesty), we reached a level where we could start competing with other school’s in town. Now, none of us knew this, but Mr Hanes was obsessed with winning.
So, club meetings were twisted into two hour study sessions with no talking, followed by Mr Hanes Jeaprody, which was Jeaprody, without the actual fun.
We were quizzed multiple times, answer cards and practise questions quite literally thrown directly in our faces.
I hate to admit this (I really hate to admit this) but Mr Hanes’s tactics worked. Sure, we had been mildly brainwashed by our slightly unhinged coach, but with Levi Costella, we destroyed our competitors. Like I said, our town held their own version of the academic scholastic decathlon, but it was pretty much the same, with some changes.
Ten subjects. Language and Literature, Math, Social Science, Economics, Art, Music, Interview, Speech, and Essay.
Unlike the official Decathlon, ours was more like a game show, with the ability to be knocked out if a team member answers a question wrong. Whoever answers the most questions correctly wins. Team meet ups were either tests, study sessions, or quizzing each other.
Which leads me to last night.
The finals were held in the reigning champions, Ratcliffe High School’s, auditorium.
And we were about to win our town’s Scholastic Decathlon 2024 Championships.
Well…I was knocked out in the music section. Standing next to my coach who I was sure was going to asphyxiate from excitement, I could smell the sudden potent stink of lemon. I tried to ignore it at first, but the more questions my team were answering correctly, the smell got worse, suffocating my senses.
This wasn't just lemon. The stink was like a burning, singing smell trickling into my nose and the back of my throat.
It was stronger than what Alex smelled like.
This was suffocating, drowning my thoughts.
“Are you okay, Cassandra?”
Mr Hanes nudged me when a Ratcliffe girl was struggling to answer a question, only for Sunny to jump in with the answer. “You look quite pale.”
I nodded, forcing a smile.
My gaze was on the Ratcliffe coach, a scary looking blonde woman, whispering in one of her student’s ears.
The Ratcliffe kid freaked me out. He was way too tall, dark blonde hair, and bulging eyes I swear were not blinking.
His gaze was glued to Levi, who wore a smug grin.
There was a smaller girl next to the Ratcliffe kid, a Macbook balanced on her knee. Every so often, he leaned into her, the two of them in deep conversation.
“I'm just nervous.”
I jumped when Ratcliffe scored a point, their side erupting into cheers.
During the break, we had a mini team meeting.
Sunny rushed to the bathroom to freshen up, and I noticed a Ratcliffe girl with a bouncing ponytail following her.
Ignoring our coach’s speech, I joined the two girls in the corridor, that lemony scent hanging thick in the air.
I caught them in an awkward position.
The Ratcliffe girl had her fingers pinched between the material of Sunny’s dark blue shirt bearing our school’s name.
Sunny looked confused, her lips parted like she was going to yell.
Ponytail dropped her hand, suddenly, with a nervous laugh. “Oh! I'm so, so, sorry,” she gushed. “You had, like, the biggest spider crawling on your back.”
Sunny caught my eye, shooting me a reassuring smile.
“Thanks.” She made sure to keep her distance. “Uh, where's your bathroom?”
The Ratcliffe girl nodded down the hallway. “It's just down there. I'm going there too if you want me to show you?”
Sunny motioned for me to go back to the auditorium. “Uh, sure! That'd be great!”
I did try to follow them, only for Sunny to cough loudly.
I took the hint, reluctantly heading back into the auditorium.
My team was hyping each other up, Levi in the centre, sweating through his team shirt. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “I can't do this,” He groaned. “Ratcliffe High is known to play dirty, man. They're unbeatable.”
“In what way do they play dirty?” I asked, joining them.
Levi gulped down water, shrugging.
“I dunno! They're already trying to distract me with the stink eye.” The boy narrowed his eyes at a grinning Ratcliffe kid who, after noticing our stares, jumped to his feet, waving at us.
“Hey guys!”
“That's Harry Cartwright, the son of the Cartwright family who tried to kill my parents in the third grade.” Levi mockingly waved back. “As you can see, their kid is a fucking sociopath.”
Huh. I wasn't expecting the smiley kid to be the mobster’s son.
Harry Cartwright was not what I expected.
Unlike his team members, he was the only one in casual clothing, a short sleeved white shirt and jeans, a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head.
Tom went pale.
“Fuck.” He hissed. “He’s one of you? Then those bastards will have a reason to play dirty, right?”
Levi shrugged, averting his gaze. It was the first time I saw his eyes darken, like he was subtly telling the boy to back off.
“The Cartwright’s have been trying to buy our land for a while,” he muttered. “I wouldn't put it past them to use the Decathlon as a way to attack.”
“Attack?!” April, another member of our team, hissed. “Like, attack attack?”
Mr Hanes grabbed the boy, resting his hands on Levi’s shoulders. “Ignore them,” he said. “Hey. Look at me.”
Levi did, raising a brow.
“You're losing that spark in your eye, young man.”
“Spark?”
Our coach nodded. “Look at me, kid.”
Levi rolled his eyes. “I am looking at you, Mr Hanes.”
The man was shaking. I was guessing his whole career (or coaching career) was on the line.
“They know they're losing, Mr Costella.”
Hanes shook the boy, squeezing his shoulders. “You are being positive and Ratcliffe doesn't like that. They want you to be nervous. They want to make you second guess yourself and lose confidence. Don't let them get into your head.” he smiled, giving the boy a playful shove. “Kick their asses.”
“Exactly!”
I didn't realize Sunny was back from the bathroom.
The faint smell of lemons had followed her. I noticed a wet patch on her shirt collar, though she was quick to smile at me, admitting she'd spilled water down herself. Sunny wrapped her arms around Levi, squeezing him into a hug.
She hung on for a little too long, Tom dragging her away with a laugh. “Good luck, all right?” she backed away, ruffling his hair. “We’ve got this!”
When I hugged Levi good luck too, I had to resist covering my nose.
The smell of lemon was unbearable, just like fourth grade Alex.
But it wasn't as potent as earlier.
I vaguely remembered the smell starting to fade once Alex’s body was being carted away on a stretcher.
Following my captain through the crowd, I was right. The smell was less suffocating. Before he went back to the stage, I grabbed the back of his shirt.
The material was soaking wet.
“How are you so wet?” I said, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“Huh?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. Do you remember what I told you in sophomore year?”
Levi settled me with a confident, but nervous smile. “Thaaaat you're scared of clowns?”
“No. I mean the boy who smelled of lemons.” I gritted out.
Levi surprised me with a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
Levi did know what I was talking about. He brought up my stink sense a day earlier in front of his parents, and I had to cover his mouth to shut him up.
Leaning close, I whispered in his ear. “You stink of rotten lemons.”
He nodded slowly, pulling away. “Uh… thanks?”
I bit back a hiss of frustration. “No, you don't understand what I'm saying–”
“Starbrooke High School,” The host announced. “Can all members please return to the stage.”
Levi held up his hand for a high five.
“Can we do this later?” He winked. “I'm kinda busy carrying this spelling-bee on my back right now.”
I nodded shakily, high fiving him, and letting him jump back onto the stage.
Before his words hit like a tidal wave, ice cold water slammed into me.
Spelling Bee?
Slowly making my way back to the stands, Levi’s mistake was circling around my head. He did win a spelling bee, but that was in middle school.
Thankfully, the smell of lemons was gone when I returned to my seat.
Mr Hanes handed me a soda. “Chill out, Cassandera, it's just a game.”
He could talk. The guy was on his fifth coffee.
Mr Hanes was not chilled out in the slightest.
Surprisingly, the event went well. I was half expecting my team to be crushed by the rafters, or caught in a blaze started in the crowd. But we were doing well. No, we were winning.
Reaching the climaxing round, Sunny choked against a smug Ratcliffe boy, joining me on the sidelines.
Levi answered the next question with a confident smile.
We were winning, but Ratcliffe could still catch up with a miracle.
The second to last question was to Ratcliffe, and it was general knowledge.
”Where on the human body would one find the *orbit?*
I knew the answer, and so did Levi, his lips breaking out into a smile when the Ratcliffe boy was hesitating, eyes wide.
Our school’s buzzer went off, Levi slamming his hand down.
Bzzz!
The host turned to our team. “Starbrooke, can I have your answer?”
Levi nodded, shooting our team a victory grin.
“It's…!“ He opened his mouth to answer, his jaw slackening suddenly.
The boy’s shoulders slumped.
“Uh… “
“Um…”
“Huhhhhh…”
Levi inclined his head, blinking, his eyes glazing over. There was a sudden, hollow vacancy that sent chills down my spine. It was like someone had reached into his skull, and yanked out his brain, leaving a shell in his place.
To my confusion, our team captain frowned at his buzzer like he'd never seen one before. He pressed it, exploding into child-like giggles.
Bzzz!
The audience laughed along nervously.
Tom nudged me. “What the fuck is he doing?”
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz!
Levi’s entire body was slumped, his hand slamming down on the buzzer.
I caught something pooling down his chin.
“Is he… drooling?” I whispered.
Mr Hanes looked mildly horrified. “Has he been drinking?
“Levi?” Tom spluttered. “Drinking?!"
Whatever we were watching, however, was definitely influenced by… something.
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz!
“Young man, that is not a toy!”
The host wasn't amused. “Starbrooke High School, I need an answer from you,” He nodded to Levi, who was pressing the buzzer, his smile growing.
“Once again,” The host backed away, like Levi was contagious. “Where on the human body would one find the Orbit?”
Levi cocked his head, lips parted.
His gaze found the overhead lights, and he winced, his lips curling into a frown.
“Starbrooke High School!”
Levi jumped, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry. “Palm tree?”
The audience laughed, and I started feeling nauseous.
Across from us, I could see the twist of a smirk on the Ratcliffe coach’s lips.
Bzzz! Levi slammed the buzzer again giggling.
“Starbrooke High School, if your team member continues to act like this, I will be forced to disqualify all members.”
Our captain stopped, gaze glued to the host, his hand creeping towards the buzzer, like it was a big red button.
The audience loved it, laughing like they were watching a sitcom.
“He wouldn't.” Tom whisper-shrieked.
The auditorium was silent for a moment, awaiting Starbrooke’s response.
Levi stuck out his tongue, slamming his hand down.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz–
When Tom dragged Levi away from his podium, a Ratcliffe girl hit her buzzer.
“Starbrooke High School, you are disqualified,” the host announced. “Ratcliffe High School, do you have an answer?”
It was Ponytail who nodded with a grin.
“The answer is the eye socket! The Orbit is part of the eye socket!”
“That is the correct answer.” The host was distracted, his eyes glued to Levi.
“Ratcliffe High School wins.”
Levi jumped when the Ratcliffe wide erupted into cheers.
His eyes were wide, clinging onto the buzzer for comfort.
Next to me, our coach looked like he was going to faint.
I barely noticed Ratcliffe’s victory, too busy watching our team captain, who was Harvard bound, tipping his head back and smiling at the ceiling like a new-born baby. Tom dragged the stumbling boy over to me, his mouth twisted.
“This was Ratcliffe, right?” He hissed, shaking our captain, who was struggling, squirming in his grip.
“Did they put something in his drink?!” He prodded Levi. “Hey! What did they do to you?!”
Still, though, drugging his drink didn't make sense.
Levi never left the auditorium, and kept his water bottle with him the whole time.
How did they even manage to slip something into his drink in the first place?
Did I smell our competitors drugging him?
Sure, intentionally inebriating my teammate was morally wrong and illegal, but why could I smell lemon?
“I doubt it was Ratcliffe.” Sunny squeezed next to me. “I've been watching them. They're harmless.”
“Then how the fuck do we explain this to his parents?!” Tom whispered, grappling with Levi, who was fighting to get back to the buzzer.
When Tom let go of him, he dropped onto the floor, crawling over to his podium. It was like watching a child.
Who was determined to piss off the adults.
Levi jumped back to instead feet, his gaze was glued to the host, a smile curved on his lips, when he slammed the buzzer again.
Bzzz!
“Someone, please remove the Starbrooke boy from the stage!”
I was embarrassed, our whole team ducking our heads as our captain was forcibly removed from the podium.
Mr Hanes grabbed Levi, pulling him off of the stage.
I expected our coach to be mad at him, but I think the teacher was more worried, a phone pressed to his ear while he forced the boy into a sitting position.
No, I don't think it's influence from alcohol, I could hear his conversation.
Levi kept trying to get up, mesmerised by the buzzer. The teacher was firm but gentle. “Hey. Sit down, all right? Keep still.” He went back to his phone call, gently prying Levi’s eyes open.
From what I can see, there's nothing wrong. He's just kind of…
Mr Hanes swiped his own hands on his jeans. ... wet?
Team Ratcliffe came over to rub it in our faces, though I was still tuned into our coach’s hissed whispering.
Water? No, I don't think it's water. It smells… no, I haven't told his parents…
“You guys did awesome!” Ponytail's voice was sugary sweet. Too sugary.
She held the 2024 trophy, bearing a satisfied smile. I noticed the Ratcliffe members were surrounding Harry, like guards.
“Better luck next time, okay?” She held out her hand, her eyes twinkling.
“No hard feelings?”
“Control your dog.” Harry said, amused eyes flicking to Levi, who was once again sprinting back to the fucking buzzer. His eyes had visibly darkened, lips curled into a triumphant smile.
Harry Cartwright was watching Mr Hanes chase our team captain like it was his own personal entertainment.
I had to look away before I died of second hand embarrassment.
“What did you put in his drink?” Tom demanded. “Weed? Edibles?” the boy attempted to shove Harry, only to be pushed back. “What the fuck did you do to him?”
Harry’s smile didn't waver. “Like I said. Control your mut.”
When the Ratcliffe team walked away, our red faced coach struggling with Levi, who was behaving progressively more erratically, informed us we were longer welcome inside the school.
Tom suggested calling an ambulance, but our coach was hesitant.
We all knew who Levi’s family were.
On the way out, Tom matched my stride. He was frowning at our team captain struggling to walk.
The way he was acting was already eyebrow raising.
But walking at an angle and being unable to stand up straight was worrying.
“I don't think they drugged his drink.” Tom muttered.
We pushed through the doors out of the school, and I revelled in the cool night air grazing my cheek. “If they did, he would be acting out of it, right? So, what's the deal with him acting like–”
“A child.” I finished for him.
“Yeah.” Tom leaned closer. “Do you think this has something to do with their turf war?”
I slapped at a bug creeping across my cheek.
Levi fell over again, this time bursting into giggles.
“Almost definitely.”
Levi was right about Ratcliffe playing dirty. I didn't realize how dirty until we were on the losers bus home. Levi was in the seat next to me, and the kid hadn't moved since we left Ratcliffe, his eyes wide, lips pulled into a dazed grin.
Bzzz!
The noise startled me from slumber. I was drooling, my head pressed against the window. Outside, the sky was pitch dark, and squinting through the glass, I couldn't get a bearing on where we were. I thought I was hearing things, but when I sat up, I heard it again.
Bzzz!
It was close.
Leaning over the boy, I glimpsed a smear of scarlet on his headrest.
I choked on my next words.
“Tom.”
Tom was in front of me, listening to music.
He didn't reply, his head of dark blonde curls nodding to the beat.
“Levi.” I managed to get out. I prodded him, and his head lolled into his shoulder. “Hey. Can you… sit up?”
Bzzz! Bzzz!
When the boy didn't move, I gently grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward myself, something contracting in my stomach.
I don't know how long it takes for your mind to fully register something, but my body was already reacting.
Levi’s seat was infested with bugs, eating their way through the upholstery. I was aware of my body moving back. I threw up, instantly, screaming into my hand.
The back of my best friend's skull resembled a deflated soccer ball, what was left of his brain leaking from his skull where a swarm of skittering bugs chewed their way through brain tissue, metallic legs scratching the curved, pearly white of the base if his skull.
Levi’s head hung, his body flopping into mine.
But his eyes were still open, lips still stretched into a smile.
Blood ran in thick rivulets from his nose and ears.
Bzzz!
I could see them, black writhing dots alive in his eyes, wriggling movement under his skin.
“Tom!”
I jumped up, stumbling into the aisle, my stomach heaving.
And it was only when I was on my knees, swiping bile from my lips, when I realized the others weren't reacting.
Tom wasn't moving.
I pulled an Airpod out of his ear, a long, slithering string of pink attached to the end.
There was a stray bug skittering across his hand, his face starting to twitch and writhe.
Moving back, I checked myself over, my hands shaking.
Head.
Shoulders.
Hair.
Clawing through it, my breath was stuck in my throat.
Arms.
Legs.
Feet.
Mr Hanes was slumped against the window, a reddish froth bubbling from his mouth.
Sunny.
I started towards the back of the bus, but all I had to see was her bowed head, half of her skull chewed through.
Sunny was in a far more deteriorated state, her face had been ripped through, a skeletal smile glinting in the dim.
The thick black smear on the window next to her was moving.
When I screamed for the driver to stop the bus, he ignored me.
If anything, he stamped on the gas.
I moved forward to shake him, before glimpsing a bug creeping down his face.
Calling 911, the operator laughed at me.
“Bugs are eating your friends.” He said. “Do you know the penalty for calling with bullshit pranks?”
The bus didn't stop, so I stayed at the front, while the bugs took over the back, eating through my teammates.
After four hours, I risked leaning over the seat next to Tom to check on Levi.
They were eating him.
Chewing all the way through skin, muscle and bone.
I tried to stop the bus, but the driver’s hands were tightly wrapped around the wheel.
Another hour, and blood was seeping down the aisle, crawling with bugs.
Levi was gone, and in his place, a buzzing skittering pile of bugs, that I thought were going to move to a second victim, maybe burrowing into the seats.
But, no.
These things began to tremble, replicating.
Building.
Slowly, nothing became static, and static became muscle.
Then bone.
Then flesh.
When a body began to slowly form, moulded from the dead boy, I stumbled back.
These things weren't eating Levi Costella.
They were rewriting him.
…
Edit: I'm still on the bus. I'm 99.9% sure that I'm infected with whatever this thing is. I can't stop fucking itching.
I keep picking them off me but they won't stop. This bus isn't going to stop until I'm like the others.
…
Edit 2:
I can feel them chewing into my skull. They're in my ears. I keep spitting them out. Please, someone get them off of me. Help me. I don't want to die at 17.
Edit 3:
Still alive. Still breathing. Maybe they're leaving me alone????? I think I'm okay. There is a pile of bugs at my feet, but they're crawling off of me.
Edit 4:
Levi really wants to go home. Like, he just told me he REALLY wants to go home. He's got a gift for his parents.
~~Edit 5 :) ~~
Levi is next to me right now, an odd smile on his face.
The bugs are not finished building him yet, but he'll be ready soon.
We will be ready soon.
Your son says hello! He is a wonderful boy, is he not?
Mr and Mrs Costella, I cannot wait for you to meet him.
He is our greatest achievement, and rest assured, you will give us what we want.
Warm regards.
The Cartwright's.
submitted by Trash_Tia to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]
Whether that's the Costella family, or whatever this is, I'm not sure.
The police are taking forever, and part of me knows they're either refusing to believe me, or RC got them too.
I'm holed up on our school bus, so I've got nothing better to do.
I want to tell you about my team.
We met in our sophomore year.
Strangers standing outside the club room.
Levi was the freckled brunette who wouldn't stop talking about Game of Thrones.
Sunny, a pretty redhead, told him to shut up.
Tom, a sandy blonde, nodding his head to music corked in his ears.
I just wanted to be part of a club, and get away from my overbearing mother.
I won't say it was a perfect start. Our school was lacking in funding, so anyone could join, which made us more of a Quiz Club. I had some serious anxiety, so I stayed on the sidelines for a while, watching, rather than taking part.
It's not like we actually talked to each other initially. The first few weeks, we played Jeopardy, and attempted to find more members to cement us as an official Academic Decathlon club.
Unfortunately, though, it was just the four of us.
Which made it extremely hard for us to be taken seriously.
According to Google, Academic Decathlon teams were made up of nine members, placed by their GPA.
Our principal laughed at us, but he did let us become official.
Which was out of pity, I assumed.
The club was assembled, and we started meeting up after school.
Sort of.
Sunny barely showed up, and Levi didn't take anything seriously, preferring to spend the time telling us about his weird family turf-war.
Our principal dumped us in a tiny classroom with a resident rat living under the floorboards.
There was barely enough room to move, and the four of us crammed together for three hours was less than appealing.
Still, though, I wanted to be part of a club.
I had grown up with parents who were obsessed with board games, so I was pretty good at general knowledge questions. Our club room was too small for anything else but three desks (Sunny and I shared one) and a whiteboard we had to shove through the door.
But, again, we didn't start as an Academic club.
It was more akin to Story Time Club.
Arriving late on my third day, armed with quiz cards from home, I found Tom and Sunny completely mesmerised by Levi’s storytelling skills, drowned in shadow.
They didn't even turn the lights on.
I strictly remember squeezing next to Sunny, and hearing the words, “But there was so much blood all over the floor, and my Mom told me to go upstairs and hide under the bed…”
Sitting in front of them was Levi, perched on a desk, his legs swinging, a whiteboard marker between his teeth.
Sometimes he'd get up, and illustrate parts of his story.
It sucked that his drawings were all stick people.
I won't go into full details of his life, but Levi grew up as part of a family who had… interesting methods of making a living. I had seen the guy’s father multiple times when we hung out at his place, and, yeah, my friend’s family definitely had Soprano vibes.
Levi’s Draw My Life was nothing to do with the club, but it did bring us closer.
Even if, at that point, I was considering leaving.
But it's not like it was easy to walk away from these guys. It's like finding your soulmates. Levi wasn't the only one with an interesting life. Sunny Lang was an ex kpop trainee, who was kicked out for being too fat, which led her to develop a severe eating disorder, and a hatred for her own body.
Sunny explained her family were originally from Boston, her mother growing up in Korea.
She signed up for an idol agency focusing on creating a new girl group, and had gotten all the way to the final stages, before being kicked for her weight. Sunny told us her story with a smile, though there was a hollowness in her eyes I couldn't ignore. The other girls were judgemental bullies, and the idol diet and brutal regime almost killed her.
Sunny lived in a tiny apartment with 9 girls, who would tear each other apart for a chance to debut. Sunny said all the other girls debuted, and when we (not so patiently) asked for names, she shrugged, admitting she signed an NDA that prevented her spilling the beans.
What she did say, was the K-pop idol is a product, not a person– and are made and moulded into a product.
She had zero interest in throwing her humanity away to become a manufactured doll.
So, one of us was the son of an underground family, and the other was an ex idol.
Tom was an aspiring horror writer with a famous older step-brother.
His story times were usually, That one time I went to the Met Gala.
When it was my turn to reveal my story, I told them the only interesting thing about me.
I could smell when something bad was going to happen.
They laughed, but I was being serious.
When I was a kid, I smelled my mother’s brain tumor.
I remember it smelled like curdled milk.
I asked Mom why her head smelled of mouldy milk, and Mom laughed and said it was her shampoo.
It was actually a grade two tumor growing inside her brain.
Thankfully, the tumour was found quickly and removed.
Growing older, I became sensitive to smell. The little girl choking on the bus smelled of singed wood, and the old man crossing the road stunk of gasoline.
In the fourth grade, my classmate Alex Castor smelled of lemons all morning.
I sat behind him, choking on the stink all the way through class.
Ever since I met him, Alex had always smelled… off.
It was a distinct smell I could never understand, and as the days and months and years went by, that smell morphed into a subtle orangey musk that was so strong I had to cover my mouth and nose. Then, he smelled like lemons.
During Recess, I watched Alex fall off of the jungle gym, straight onto his head.
Alex Castor was dead before the paramedics arrived, my panicked teacher attempting CPR when his brains were leaking out of his ears.
The school claimed it was an accident, but Alex would have been fine if the jungle gym wasn't built on solid concrete.
I told my team members this, and Levi was sceptical.
“You can smell bad things?” He said, his lips curved around his milkshake straw. In the early days, we hung out in the local bar. It's not like we were allowed inside, but Levi could get us in anywhere.
I was squeezed between Tom and Sunny, while Levi took the seat opposite us. I couldn't help noticing our waitress was insisting on free milkshake refills, her frantic eyes glued to Levi.
I had zero idea why. Levi Costella was about as intimidating as a fruit fly.
Wearing a white shirt with a popped collar, a leather jacket thrown over the top, Levi was giving rebellious Harvard student, rather than son of a crime family.
Leaning forward, he raised a brow, clearly not believing me.
“So, you're like a stink psychic?”
I shrugged, sipping my own shake.
“Sure.”
I wasn't planning on telling him the club room smelled off on our first day.
Once we actually started the club, Levi surprised us as the smartest member, and getting to know him further, I came to the realization his family were infamous in our town.
However, his parents hid it well. Lucy and Michael Costella were the owners of a popular ramen store in our town, hiding under the facade of two successful business owners. The Costella’s were an attractive family.
Lucy was a sophisticated brunette with a lipstick smile, Michael, a handsome fluffy haired man who looked like he modelled glasses.
The two were fiercely protective over their youngest son, not so casually reminding us behind grinning smiles, that if anything happened to Levi, we would automatically be involved in the family.
I mean, they did laugh and say, “We’re joking! Look at your little faces!” when Sunny went deathly pale. But there was definitely truth behind their words.
Being Levi’s friend was… challenging at first.
Tom and I were in his room studying for finals, and an alarm went off, flooding Levi’s room in red light.
I had zero idea where it was coming from, but it locked all the doors and windows, forcing the Costella residence into temporary lockdown. Levi didn't seem fazed, casually mentioning his parents were taking care of it.
He had a whiteboard set up in his room, and was standing in front of it, cramming all of our textbook notes into one easily digestible drawing.
Levi wasn't just smart.
He was Ivy League smart, so we had struck gold with him.
His family were questionable, and yes, sometimes I did fear for my life, but as the more time we spent at his house, the Costella household became a second home. We got used to the alarms.
I just brought along ear plugs.
I wish I was writing this post about Levi’s family, and sure, they are a factor in what is going on right now, but I want to preface this by saying the events below involve the 2024 scholastic decathlon final in our town with the school’s listed:
Starbrook High School.
Ratcliffe High School.
Please note, the incident that took place last night was immediately covered up, and all phone footage was destroyed. Our town is mostly out of the way, and does not show up on Google searches.
We also have our own version of the academic decathlon, which is a more town-level competition, due to lacking funds. The four of us were desperate to start competing with our schools.
So, we started taking things a little more seriously.
We got a coach.
Mr Hanes, who was hesitant at first.
In his words, “You will hate me as your coach.”
He started by recruiting more members, announcing, “If you want to be taken seriously as an actual club, then I'll be taking the reins from now on.”
He did, and with our teachers guidance (and sometimes brutal honesty), we reached a level where we could start competing with other school’s in town. Now, none of us knew this, but Mr Hanes was obsessed with winning.
So, club meetings were twisted into two hour study sessions with no talking, followed by Mr Hanes Jeaprody, which was Jeaprody, without the actual fun.
We were quizzed multiple times, answer cards and practise questions quite literally thrown directly in our faces.
I hate to admit this (I really hate to admit this) but Mr Hanes’s tactics worked. Sure, we had been mildly brainwashed by our slightly unhinged coach, but with Levi Costella, we destroyed our competitors. Like I said, our town held their own version of the academic scholastic decathlon, but it was pretty much the same, with some changes.
Ten subjects. Language and Literature, Math, Social Science, Economics, Art, Music, Interview, Speech, and Essay.
Unlike the official Decathlon, ours was more like a game show, with the ability to be knocked out if a team member answers a question wrong. Whoever answers the most questions correctly wins. Team meet ups were either tests, study sessions, or quizzing each other.
Which leads me to last night.
The finals were held in the reigning champions, Ratcliffe High School’s, auditorium.
And we were about to win our town’s Scholastic Decathlon 2024 Championships.
Well…I was knocked out in the music section. Standing next to my coach who I was sure was going to asphyxiate from excitement, I could smell the sudden potent stink of lemon. I tried to ignore it at first, but the more questions my team were answering correctly, the smell got worse, suffocating my senses.
This wasn't just lemon. The stink was like a burning, singing smell trickling into my nose and the back of my throat.
It was stronger than what Alex smelled like.
This was suffocating, drowning my thoughts.
“Are you okay, Cassandra?”
Mr Hanes nudged me when a Ratcliffe girl was struggling to answer a question, only for Sunny to jump in with the answer. “You look quite pale.”
I nodded, forcing a smile.
My gaze was on the Ratcliffe coach, a scary looking blonde woman, whispering in one of her student’s ears.
The Ratcliffe kid freaked me out. He was way too tall, dark blonde hair, and bulging eyes I swear were not blinking.
His gaze was glued to Levi, who wore a smug grin.
There was a smaller girl next to the Ratcliffe kid, a Macbook balanced on her knee. Every so often, he leaned into her, the two of them in deep conversation.
“I'm just nervous.”
I jumped when Ratcliffe scored a point, their side erupting into cheers.
During the break, we had a mini team meeting.
Sunny rushed to the bathroom to freshen up, and I noticed a Ratcliffe girl with a bouncing ponytail following her.
Ignoring our coach’s speech, I joined the two girls in the corridor, that lemony scent hanging thick in the air.
I caught them in an awkward position.
The Ratcliffe girl had her fingers pinched between the material of Sunny’s dark blue shirt bearing our school’s name.
Sunny looked confused, her lips parted like she was going to yell.
Ponytail dropped her hand, suddenly, with a nervous laugh. “Oh! I'm so, so, sorry,” she gushed. “You had, like, the biggest spider crawling on your back.”
Sunny caught my eye, shooting me a reassuring smile.
“Thanks.” She made sure to keep her distance. “Uh, where's your bathroom?”
The Ratcliffe girl nodded down the hallway. “It's just down there. I'm going there too if you want me to show you?”
Sunny motioned for me to go back to the auditorium. “Uh, sure! That'd be great!”
I did try to follow them, only for Sunny to cough loudly.
I took the hint, reluctantly heading back into the auditorium.
My team was hyping each other up, Levi in the centre, sweating through his team shirt. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “I can't do this,” He groaned. “Ratcliffe High is known to play dirty, man. They're unbeatable.”
“In what way do they play dirty?” I asked, joining them.
Levi gulped down water, shrugging.
“I dunno! They're already trying to distract me with the stink eye.” The boy narrowed his eyes at a grinning Ratcliffe kid who, after noticing our stares, jumped to his feet, waving at us.
“Hey guys!”
“That's Harry Cartwright, the son of the Cartwright family who tried to kill my parents in the third grade.” Levi mockingly waved back. “As you can see, their kid is a fucking sociopath.”
Huh. I wasn't expecting the smiley kid to be the mobster’s son.
Harry Cartwright was not what I expected.
Unlike his team members, he was the only one in casual clothing, a short sleeved white shirt and jeans, a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head.
Tom went pale.
“Fuck.” He hissed. “He’s one of you? Then those bastards will have a reason to play dirty, right?”
Levi shrugged, averting his gaze. It was the first time I saw his eyes darken, like he was subtly telling the boy to back off.
“The Cartwright’s have been trying to buy our land for a while,” he muttered. “I wouldn't put it past them to use the Decathlon as a way to attack.”
“Attack?!” April, another member of our team, hissed. “Like, attack attack?”
Mr Hanes grabbed the boy, resting his hands on Levi’s shoulders. “Ignore them,” he said. “Hey. Look at me.”
Levi did, raising a brow.
“You're losing that spark in your eye, young man.”
“Spark?”
Our coach nodded. “Look at me, kid.”
Levi rolled his eyes. “I am looking at you, Mr Hanes.”
The man was shaking. I was guessing his whole career (or coaching career) was on the line.
“They know they're losing, Mr Costella.”
Hanes shook the boy, squeezing his shoulders. “You are being positive and Ratcliffe doesn't like that. They want you to be nervous. They want to make you second guess yourself and lose confidence. Don't let them get into your head.” he smiled, giving the boy a playful shove. “Kick their asses.”
“Exactly!”
I didn't realize Sunny was back from the bathroom.
The faint smell of lemons had followed her. I noticed a wet patch on her shirt collar, though she was quick to smile at me, admitting she'd spilled water down herself. Sunny wrapped her arms around Levi, squeezing him into a hug.
She hung on for a little too long, Tom dragging her away with a laugh. “Good luck, all right?” she backed away, ruffling his hair. “We’ve got this!”
When I hugged Levi good luck too, I had to resist covering my nose.
The smell of lemon was unbearable, just like fourth grade Alex.
But it wasn't as potent as earlier.
I vaguely remembered the smell starting to fade once Alex’s body was being carted away on a stretcher.
Following my captain through the crowd, I was right. The smell was less suffocating. Before he went back to the stage, I grabbed the back of his shirt.
The material was soaking wet.
“How are you so wet?” I said, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“Huh?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. Do you remember what I told you in sophomore year?”
Levi settled me with a confident, but nervous smile. “Thaaaat you're scared of clowns?”
“No. I mean the boy who smelled of lemons.” I gritted out.
Levi surprised me with a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
Something ice cold trickled down my spine.
Levi did know what I was talking about. He brought up my stink sense a day earlier in front of his parents, and I had to cover his mouth to shut him up.
Leaning close, I whispered in his ear. “You stink of rotten lemons.”
He nodded slowly, pulling away. “Uh… thanks?”
I bit back a hiss of frustration. “No, you don't understand what I'm saying–”
“Starbrooke High School,” The host announced. “Can all members please return to the stage.”
Levi held up his hand for a high five.
“Can we do this later?” He winked. “I'm kinda busy carrying this spelling-bee on my back right now.”
I nodded shakily, high fiving him, and letting him jump back onto the stage.
Before his words hit like a tidal wave, ice cold water slammed into me.
Spelling Bee?
Slowly making my way back to the stands, Levi’s mistake was circling around my head. He did win a spelling bee, but that was in middle school.
Thankfully, the smell of lemons was gone when I returned to my seat.
Mr Hanes handed me a soda. “Chill out, Cassandera, it's just a game.”
He could talk. The guy was on his fifth coffee.
Mr Hanes was not chilled out in the slightest.
Surprisingly, the event went well. I was half expecting my team to be crushed by the rafters, or caught in a blaze started in the crowd. But we were doing well. No, we were winning.
Reaching the climaxing round, Sunny choked against a smug Ratcliffe boy, joining me on the sidelines.
Levi answered the next question with a confident smile.
We were winning, but Ratcliffe could still catch up with a miracle.
The second to last question was to Ratcliffe, and it was general knowledge.
”Where on the human body would one find the *orbit?*
I knew the answer, and so did Levi, his lips breaking out into a smile when the Ratcliffe boy was hesitating, eyes wide.
Our school’s buzzer went off, Levi slamming his hand down.
Bzzz!
The host turned to our team. “Starbrooke, can I have your answer?”
Levi nodded, shooting our team a victory grin.
“It's…!“ He opened his mouth to answer, his jaw slackening suddenly.
The boy’s shoulders slumped.
“Uh… “
“Um…”
“Huhhhhh…”
Levi inclined his head, blinking, his eyes glazing over. There was a sudden, hollow vacancy that sent chills down my spine. It was like someone had reached into his skull, and yanked out his brain, leaving a shell in his place.
To my confusion, our team captain frowned at his buzzer like he'd never seen one before. He pressed it, exploding into child-like giggles.
Bzzz!
The audience laughed along nervously.
Tom nudged me. “What the fuck is he doing?”
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz!
Levi’s entire body was slumped, his hand slamming down on the buzzer.
I caught something pooling down his chin.
“Is he… drooling?” I whispered.
Mr Hanes looked mildly horrified. “Has he been drinking?
“Levi?” Tom spluttered. “Drinking?!"
Whatever we were watching, however, was definitely influenced by… something.
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz!
“Young man, that is not a toy!”
The host wasn't amused. “Starbrooke High School, I need an answer from you,” He nodded to Levi, who was pressing the buzzer, his smile growing.
“Once again,” The host backed away, like Levi was contagious. “Where on the human body would one find the Orbit?”
Levi cocked his head, lips parted.
His gaze found the overhead lights, and he winced, his lips curling into a frown.
“Starbrooke High School!”
Levi jumped, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry. “Palm tree?”
The audience laughed, and I started feeling nauseous.
Across from us, I could see the twist of a smirk on the Ratcliffe coach’s lips.
Bzzz! Levi slammed the buzzer again giggling.
“Starbrooke High School, if your team member continues to act like this, I will be forced to disqualify all members.”
Our captain stopped, gaze glued to the host, his hand creeping towards the buzzer, like it was a big red button.
The audience loved it, laughing like they were watching a sitcom.
“He wouldn't.” Tom whisper-shrieked.
The auditorium was silent for a moment, awaiting Starbrooke’s response.
Levi stuck out his tongue, slamming his hand down.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz–
When Tom dragged Levi away from his podium, a Ratcliffe girl hit her buzzer.
“Starbrooke High School, you are disqualified,” the host announced. “Ratcliffe High School, do you have an answer?”
It was Ponytail who nodded with a grin.
“The answer is the eye socket! The Orbit is part of the eye socket!”
“That is the correct answer.” The host was distracted, his eyes glued to Levi.
“Ratcliffe High School wins.”
Levi jumped when the Ratcliffe wide erupted into cheers.
His eyes were wide, clinging onto the buzzer for comfort.
Next to me, our coach looked like he was going to faint.
I barely noticed Ratcliffe’s victory, too busy watching our team captain, who was Harvard bound, tipping his head back and smiling at the ceiling like a new-born baby. Tom dragged the stumbling boy over to me, his mouth twisted.
“This was Ratcliffe, right?” He hissed, shaking our captain, who was struggling, squirming in his grip.
“Did they put something in his drink?!” He prodded Levi. “Hey! What did they do to you?!”
Still, though, drugging his drink didn't make sense.
Levi never left the auditorium, and kept his water bottle with him the whole time.
How did they even manage to slip something into his drink in the first place?
Did I smell our competitors drugging him?
Sure, intentionally inebriating my teammate was morally wrong and illegal, but why could I smell lemon?
“I doubt it was Ratcliffe.” Sunny squeezed next to me. “I've been watching them. They're harmless.”
“Then how the fuck do we explain this to his parents?!” Tom whispered, grappling with Levi, who was fighting to get back to the buzzer.
When Tom let go of him, he dropped onto the floor, crawling over to his podium. It was like watching a child.
Who was determined to piss off the adults.
Levi jumped back to instead feet, his gaze was glued to the host, a smile curved on his lips, when he slammed the buzzer again.
Bzzz!
“Someone, please remove the Starbrooke boy from the stage!”
I was embarrassed, our whole team ducking our heads as our captain was forcibly removed from the podium.
Mr Hanes grabbed Levi, pulling him off of the stage.
I expected our coach to be mad at him, but I think the teacher was more worried, a phone pressed to his ear while he forced the boy into a sitting position.
No, I don't think it's influence from alcohol, I could hear his conversation.
Levi kept trying to get up, mesmerised by the buzzer. The teacher was firm but gentle. “Hey. Sit down, all right? Keep still.” He went back to his phone call, gently prying Levi’s eyes open.
From what I can see, there's nothing wrong. He's just kind of…
Mr Hanes swiped his own hands on his jeans. ... wet?
Team Ratcliffe came over to rub it in our faces, though I was still tuned into our coach’s hissed whispering.
Water? No, I don't think it's water. It smells… no, I haven't told his parents…
“You guys did awesome!” Ponytail's voice was sugary sweet. Too sugary.
She held the 2024 trophy, bearing a satisfied smile. I noticed the Ratcliffe members were surrounding Harry, like guards.
“Better luck next time, okay?” She held out her hand, her eyes twinkling.
“No hard feelings?”
“Control your dog.” Harry said, amused eyes flicking to Levi, who was once again sprinting back to the fucking buzzer. His eyes had visibly darkened, lips curled into a triumphant smile.
Harry Cartwright was watching Mr Hanes chase our team captain like it was his own personal entertainment.
I had to look away before I died of second hand embarrassment.
“What did you put in his drink?” Tom demanded. “Weed? Edibles?” the boy attempted to shove Harry, only to be pushed back. “What the fuck did you do to him?”
Harry’s smile didn't waver. “Like I said. Control your mut.”
When the Ratcliffe team walked away, our red faced coach struggling with Levi, who was behaving progressively more erratically, informed us we were longer welcome inside the school.
Tom suggested calling an ambulance, but our coach was hesitant.
We all knew who Levi’s family were.
On the way out, Tom matched my stride. He was frowning at our team captain struggling to walk.
The way he was acting was already eyebrow raising.
But walking at an angle and being unable to stand up straight was worrying.
“I don't think they drugged his drink.” Tom muttered.
We pushed through the doors out of the school, and I revelled in the cool night air grazing my cheek. “If they did, he would be acting out of it, right? So, what's the deal with him acting like–”
“A child.” I finished for him.
“Yeah.” Tom leaned closer. “Do you think this has something to do with their turf war?”
I slapped at a bug creeping across my cheek.
Levi fell over again, this time bursting into giggles.
“Almost definitely.”
Levi was right about Ratcliffe playing dirty. I didn't realize how dirty until we were on the losers bus home. Levi was in the seat next to me, and the kid hadn't moved since we left Ratcliffe, his eyes wide, lips pulled into a dazed grin.
Bzzz!
The noise startled me from slumber. I was drooling, my head pressed against the window. Outside, the sky was pitch dark, and squinting through the glass, I couldn't get a bearing on where we were. I thought I was hearing things, but when I sat up, I heard it again.
Bzzz!
It was close.
Leaning over the boy, I glimpsed a smear of scarlet on his headrest.
I choked on my next words.
“Tom.”
Tom was in front of me, listening to music.
He didn't reply, his head of dark blonde curls nodding to the beat.
“Levi.” I managed to get out. I prodded him, and his head lolled into his shoulder. “Hey. Can you… sit up?”
Bzzz! Bzzz!
When the boy didn't move, I gently grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward myself, something contracting in my stomach.
I don't know how long it takes for your mind to fully register something, but my body was already reacting.
Levi’s seat was infested with bugs, eating their way through the upholstery. I was aware of my body moving back. I threw up, instantly, screaming into my hand.
The back of my best friend's skull resembled a deflated soccer ball, what was left of his brain leaking from his skull where a swarm of skittering bugs chewed their way through brain tissue, metallic legs scratching the curved, pearly white of the base if his skull.
Levi’s head hung, his body flopping into mine.
But his eyes were still open, lips still stretched into a smile.
Blood ran in thick rivulets from his nose and ears.
Bzzz!
I could see them, black writhing dots alive in his eyes, wriggling movement under his skin.
“Tom!”
I jumped up, stumbling into the aisle, my stomach heaving.
And it was only when I was on my knees, swiping bile from my lips, when I realized the others weren't reacting.
Tom wasn't moving.
I pulled an Airpod out of his ear, a long, slithering string of pink attached to the end.
There was a stray bug skittering across his hand, his face starting to twitch and writhe.
Moving back, I checked myself over, my hands shaking.
Head.
Shoulders.
Hair.
Clawing through it, my breath was stuck in my throat.
Arms.
Legs.
Feet.
Mr Hanes was slumped against the window, a reddish froth bubbling from his mouth.
Sunny.
I started towards the back of the bus, but all I had to see was her bowed head, half of her skull chewed through.
Sunny was in a far more deteriorated state, her face had been ripped through, a skeletal smile glinting in the dim.
The thick black smear on the window next to her was moving.
When I screamed for the driver to stop the bus, he ignored me.
If anything, he stamped on the gas.
I moved forward to shake him, before glimpsing a bug creeping down his face.
Calling 911, the operator laughed at me.
“Bugs are eating your friends.” He said. “Do you know the penalty for calling with bullshit pranks?”
The bus didn't stop, so I stayed at the front, while the bugs took over the back, eating through my teammates.
After four hours, I risked leaning over the seat next to Tom to check on Levi.
They were eating him.
Chewing all the way through skin, muscle and bone.
I tried to stop the bus, but the driver’s hands were tightly wrapped around the wheel.
Another hour, and blood was seeping down the aisle, crawling with bugs.
Levi was gone, and in his place, a buzzing skittering pile of bugs, that I thought were going to move to a second victim, maybe burrowing into the seats.
But, no.
These things began to tremble, replicating.
Building.
Slowly, nothing became static, and static became muscle.
Then bone.
Then flesh.
When a body began to slowly form, moulded from the dead boy, I stumbled back.
These things weren't eating Levi Costella.
They were rewriting him.
…
Edit: I'm still on the bus. I'm 99.9% sure that I'm infected with whatever this thing is. I can't stop fucking itching.
I keep picking them off me but they won't stop. This bus isn't going to stop until I'm like the others.
…
Edit 2:
I can feel them chewing into my skull. They're in my ears. I keep spitting them out. Please, someone get them off of me. Help me. I don't want to die at 17.
Edit 3:
Still alive. Still breathing. Maybe they're leaving me alone????? I think I'm okay. There is a pile of bugs at my feet, but they're crawling off of me.
Edit 4:
Levi really wants to go home. Like, he just told me he REALLY wants to go home. He's got a gift for his parents.
~~Edit 5 :) ~~
Levi is next to me right now, an odd smile on his face.
The bugs are not finished building him yet, but he'll be ready soon.
We will be ready soon.
Your son says hello! He is a wonderful boy, is he not?
Mr and Mrs Costella, I cannot wait for you to meet him.
He is our greatest achievement, and rest assured, you will give us what we want.
Warm regards.
The Cartwright's.
2024.05.13 15:45 Verrgasm Breston Boobilay: All Five Inches
Breston Boobilay
Breston Boobilay meandered his way along the sprawling New York sidewalk, stifling a stagger as he lurched forward. He was on a drunken mission like so many others he’d set out on before, and this mission, like all others, entailed the timely acquisition of cheap, night-time cooze. Air to the vast Boobilay Meat Pie fortune, Breston rarely had trouble sniffing out hole. But, out there, gripped in the chill of the brisk winter wind, he found himself with his balls as blue as his icy fingertips.
Breston rubbed his palms together and shuddered, watching the breath escape him in thick, swirling plumes. That’s when he noticed the flickering red neon through the gloom ahead, and he couldn’t help but smile as he felt himself instantly become warmer. He lit a cigarette in an effort to restore his sobriety, however briefly, as he thought about what potentially awaited him beyond the door he now found himself in front of. Pussy, and more booze, and maybe even a plug that wouldn’t turn out to be just another irritating, time wasting dipshit. Breston took one last satisfying drag from his smoke before tossing it in the slush on the curb as it sizzled and died. Then, he opened the door and went inside.
Breston Boobilay 2: Electric Boobilay
Breston came inside and a thick fog of lingering smoke whipped by his head out into the icy chill of the New York City winter he’d just left behind. The door slammed through the force of an incoming gust and Breston shivered as a conglomerate of weary eyes turned to meet his reddened, eager face. The patrons of the bar were hardly the fresh meat he’d been hoping to encounter in a shithole like that. The collective weathered faces, likely habitual fixtures of the place, turned back to their drinks and their dull, mumbled conversations as Breston made himself at home on a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a J&B on the rocks. Breston reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a new cigarette, lighting it and inhaling deeply. The smoke escaped him, and as it dispersed across the room he noticed the only remotely fuckable woman there as she eyed him with intrigue from the other side of the bar. Breston clutched up his drink, drained it, and moved in for the kill.
“Got a light?” She asked, seductively, after he had closed the distance having brushed his way through the decaying bodies of the scant Tuesday night crowd.
“No,” Breston replied smoothly, “But I have an eight-point-five inch long penis.”
Her bleach-blond bangs ruffled in excitement, the way a cat’s fuzzy face might if you were to hold a fishy treat up to it. There was only one kind of pussy that Breston was interested in, and only one type of fishy treat.
“Is that right?” The pussy purred, her blue green-flecked eyes brightening. “You wouldn’t lie to a lady now, would you?”
Breston felt his four-point-eight inch long member stiffen in his jeans and he readjusted his posture to conceal it.
“How about that light?” Breston murmured sensually, offering up his burning tip for the lady’s smoke.
“My, my,” She said, the words passing her lips in slow rolls of erotic delight. Pouting them around the slender filter, she moved in closer to Breston, taking her sweet time before finally allowing the cigarette to burn. “what a gentleman…”
“How old are you, by the way?” Breston interjected flirtily, “Like thirty, or something?”
“I’m twenty-eight…”
“Good enough,” Breston didn’t usually bang out grandmas, but in a drought like the one plaguing him, he knew it best to seek out any port possible to wait out the storm of pussilessness until the opportunity for a half-decent fuck with a youthful lay presented itself like that sword in the stone, or whatever the fuck it was. The thought occurred to Breston as if a crotch lightbulb had lit up around his midsection: ‘Perhaps she has a younger, hotter roommate…’ “Your place or mine? I have to warn you, though, my shitter is all backed up.”
“I… guess… we could go back to my-” The pussy stammered.
“Great, Let’s go.” Breston interrupted, sexily.
“Aren’t you at least going to buy me a drink first?” The pussy pleaded, motioning towards the disinterested bartender presumably getting ready to close up.
“Sure, we can stop at a liquor store on the way and grab some forties. If we move fast, we can make it before they stop selling booze. Come on, hurry!” Said Breston, throwing up an arm in the direction of the door like some mad conductor in the throes of a beautiful symphonic din.
And so Breston and the cheap night-time cooze bounded out into the darkness from whence they’d came, moving swiftly, lest the hour evade them and Breston be forced to grunt atop the relatively sub-5 geriatric female in the midst of returning accursed sobriety. An outcome which, he knew, simply wasn’t an option.
Breston Boobilay 3: Curse of the Cooze
“We have you now, Mr. Boobilay!” Malphus Mephistopheles cackled menacingly, relishing in his imminent, long-awaited triumph over renegade superspy Breston Boobilay, who lay helpless, strapped to the long metallic table as the laser beam drew ever closer to his bulging crotch. “Tell me, how does it feel to know that you will never get pussy again? Bwahahahaha!”
Breston could feel the billion-degree heat running along his exposed thighs, threatening his tighty-whitey clad dick and balls with extinction. That’s when he remembered; the tabs of flunitrazepam contained in the secret toe compartments of his shiny black loafers, of which Malphus’s underlings had neglected to remove along with his tuxedo pants. Breston began to chuckle a cackled laugh of his own, drawing the ire of his bedraggled captor.
“You know what your problem is, Malphus?” Malphus moved in closer, slamming a pale, thin palm down on the table by Breston’s head. Breston didn’t even blink. “You never got pussy. That’s why you hate me so much.”
“That isn’t true!” Malphus shrieked, the remainders of his long scraggly hair standing on end. “I’ve got pussy, lots of times!”
“Oh, yeah?” Breston replied coolly, “Who from?”
“You wouldn’t know her. She goes to a different school…”
The laser beam was just a few inches away from destroying Breston entirely, the distinctive burning stench of singed pubes beginning to fill the small subterranean chamber. He knew that he had to act fast.
“You wanna know a secret, Malphus?” Breston half-whispered.
“What?” Malphus replied, leaning in.
“SURPRISE ROOFIE!” With a flick of his loafer, Breston discharged a fleet of small pills into Malphus’s’s shocked, wide open mouth. He began to gag as they became lodged in his throat. ‘Bullseye’, Breston thought to himself smugly as he smirked, reaching out his hand and snatching the insane scientist's keys from his belt beneath his stained lab coat. In a flash, Breston was free and on his feet. By the time he was straightening his tie, Malphus Mephistopheles was passed out on the cold, metal floor; drooling.
Breston laughed, dropping his underwear and proceeding to teabag the unconscious man. Breston’s laugh erupted into a cackle surpassing that of any villain he had previously encountered, loud enough to alert Malphus’es’s throng of penguin-like minions. They gasped in horror as they witnessed the violation of their master.
“Who’s next!” Breston roared, the weird little penguin freaks fucking off in abject defeat, screaming as they went.
“I’m unstoppable! Do you understand that! I’m a god! I’m Breston Boobilay! Look at my work, and tremble!”
All of a sudden, Breston felt that familiar dreaded feeling begin to rear up from inside him. It stabbed at him with doubts and the incessant pain and the anxiety that made his body tremor. In an instant, he felt the power drain from him, replaced by something else. Something terrible. He looked down at his quaking hands, and saw that they were dripping with blood.
Breston awoke with a scream, as did the cooze he’d shacked up with. She hissed at him, still very cat-like in her manner.
“What the fuck, dude! Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Breston sighed, rubbing at the beading rows of sweat dangling from his manly brow. “Just another night terror…”
“Why is my bed all wet?..” The girl questioned hesitantly, “Is that… is that piss!”
“No!” Breston felt himself beneath the sheets, soaked to the bone. “No, it’s just sweat! See?”
Breston removed his hand from his soiled groin, lifting it up to her face so that she might smell that it was in fact only sweat. She screamed, penguinishly, as she fled from the room in hysterics. Breston stood and began to put his clothes back on, eyes never moving from the large dark stain covering the pink bedspread. It was a stain as dark as his soul, and Breston knew that he couldn’t hide from it deep in a pussy hole for very much longer…
Breston Boobilay 4: The Quest For Peace
Breston glared into the steam rising from his coffee cup, the sinuous curves of its alluring dance making his dick twitch minutely in subtle arousal. The hangover was debilitating, but he told himself that it would pass with the caffeine and the shower he longed for back at home. However, to his despair, Breston knew better. How many times had he been there before, like that? Not in that exact diner, in that exact situation, mouth dry as an old nun’s cooze and smelling faintly like urine, but simply infirm, haggard, and desperate for some kind of meaningful relief? Breston knew, in that uniquely lonely moment, that he’d never find it.
The waitress breasted boobily across the diner floor, carrying Breston’s pie aloft in the air towards him. He couldn’t help but take notice of the way that her uniform hugged her body as her bosom heaved heftily as she walked, and, yet, Breston’s manhood remained as limp and placid as a premature baby’s pinkie. She reminded him of her, when they first met. She set the plate down, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she smelled Breston’s undying shame.
“Will that be all, sir?” She said, already preparing to turn and leave him there, all alone. Just like she did.
Breston wanted to scream ‘No!’. He wanted to yell at her and spew out all the things that he should have said, before it was too late. Breston wanted to spring up from the booth and grab the woman by the knockers and say ‘Were they worth it! Does he love them better than I did!’, but, he didn’t. Instead, he said nothing. The waitress was already gone, along with Breston’s will to live. The coffee’s steam had diminished down to small, dwindling whisps. He scooped up the mug and finished its contents, focusing on the lukewarm liquid as it spilled down his throat as if it might quell the shaking in his hands. Breston knew that only one thing could do that. He glanced at the clock behind the counter. It was eleven-thirty AM. Time to hit the sauce, he thought, grimacing.
Breston Boobilay 5: A Long Way Down
The chilly afternoon stung at Breston as he brought the bottle back up to his lips for another sickening hit of brandy. The shakes had left him, but his despair had only grown. It had calcified, made clear in his mind in a way that was truly unignorable and utterly undeniable. Everything good that Breston had ever had; his wife, his upper management job at the Brooklyn meat plant, his youth. It had all gone away so quickly. Breston thought of his parents, and the beginnings of a tear began to form before being swept away across his temple by the incoming wind. He thought about the last thing his father had said to him before he had stormed out to go drinking the previous weekend: ‘Breston, you're forty-two-years old. It’s time you moved out of the house.’, and he remembered how angry he’d been; yelling and cussing him out as a ‘frigid dinosaur’ who refused to take the time to understand Breston’s ‘alternative lifestyle’, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Father could never understand.
Breston tipped the bottle over his mouth and gulped down the remains of the liquor as he savored every last, overpriced trickle before shambling over to the guardrail at the rooftop’s edge. He eyed the distance between the two buildings, then he took the drop into account. After a moment, he took a step back, raised the bottle over his head, and launched it. It arched high over the street below before clattering against a tall windowpane of the office block opposite the building he was on.
“Bullseye…” Breston said aloud, to no one.
Suddenly, he got a flash of the dream he’d had the night before when he blacked out in that cooze kitten’s piss pad, and the urge to run and jump doubled in intensity. Breston didn’t like to remember. He didn’t want to. But, even in his nightmares, Matty was still there. Matty was always there. He was their favorite. Always was. It was always, ‘Breston, why can’t you be more like your younger brother?’, ‘Why can’t you be more like Matty?’. Always so perfect, with his good grades and mommy’s constant approval. Breston hated him. Oh, how he hated Matty with every fiber of his being, and he made that clear when Matty reached highschool. Breston was supposed to look out for Matty, protect him. But Breston did anything but. Matty was shy, and insecure about himself, but, most of all, Matty was ashamed of the fact that he’d never had a girlfriend before. Breston would make a big show of bringing whatever hoe-bag he’d seduced with daddy’s money back home so that he could flaunt her around like some prize that Matty could never earn, which crushed him, but not nearly as much as when Breston began spreading the rumors around school about how his dick didn’t work. By the end of the week, Matty was little more than a laughing stock and an emotional, broken wreck, and by the end of the month, Matty was dead.
“It wasn’t my fault, you stupid fuck!” Breston screamed into the dispassionate, gray New York sky within which no God could ever dwell, flashes of his mother screeching, ‘You did this! You!’ tearing at him like sharpened, savage claws ripping their way ravenously through a model’s skimpy lingerie. “I could have helped you! I could have made it all okay again!”
Breston fell to his knees and began to sob like the sad little boy he’d always known he was, feeling more alone than he ever had been before in his entire life. He had made so many mistakes. So many people hurt, and for what? His passing, childish amusement? His bottomless desire for gratification? A cover to hide from the hurt of it all? Breston didn’t know anymore, and he didn’t want to. He couldn’t think about it anymore. He couldn’t take it.
Standing on trembling legs, Breston tentatively put both hands on the railing before gripping it firmly, whimpering as if it produced some sort of electric shock with his touch. He tried to remember when the last time he had felt scared like that was, but he realized that there was nothing even remotely comparable to hold onto. Before another thought could pass through Breston’s head, he took a quick, deep breath, closed his eyes, thrust one foot over the waist-high metal railing and allowed himself to fall. The wind whipped him with the force of a jet engine as he soared towards the ground, half-screaming, half-choking as it knocked the air out of him. Despite the unimaginable terror, and all the regret and the shame and the misery and the abject disappointment that was his nothing of a life, Breston couldn’t help but feel at peace now that it was finally all over. For a fraction of a second, Breston opened his eyes, and he never closed them again…
submitted by Verrgasm to DiabolicOughts [link] [comments]
Breston Boobilay meandered his way along the sprawling New York sidewalk, stifling a stagger as he lurched forward. He was on a drunken mission like so many others he’d set out on before, and this mission, like all others, entailed the timely acquisition of cheap, night-time cooze. Air to the vast Boobilay Meat Pie fortune, Breston rarely had trouble sniffing out hole. But, out there, gripped in the chill of the brisk winter wind, he found himself with his balls as blue as his icy fingertips.
Breston rubbed his palms together and shuddered, watching the breath escape him in thick, swirling plumes. That’s when he noticed the flickering red neon through the gloom ahead, and he couldn’t help but smile as he felt himself instantly become warmer. He lit a cigarette in an effort to restore his sobriety, however briefly, as he thought about what potentially awaited him beyond the door he now found himself in front of. Pussy, and more booze, and maybe even a plug that wouldn’t turn out to be just another irritating, time wasting dipshit. Breston took one last satisfying drag from his smoke before tossing it in the slush on the curb as it sizzled and died. Then, he opened the door and went inside.
Breston Boobilay 2: Electric Boobilay
Breston came inside and a thick fog of lingering smoke whipped by his head out into the icy chill of the New York City winter he’d just left behind. The door slammed through the force of an incoming gust and Breston shivered as a conglomerate of weary eyes turned to meet his reddened, eager face. The patrons of the bar were hardly the fresh meat he’d been hoping to encounter in a shithole like that. The collective weathered faces, likely habitual fixtures of the place, turned back to their drinks and their dull, mumbled conversations as Breston made himself at home on a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a J&B on the rocks. Breston reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a new cigarette, lighting it and inhaling deeply. The smoke escaped him, and as it dispersed across the room he noticed the only remotely fuckable woman there as she eyed him with intrigue from the other side of the bar. Breston clutched up his drink, drained it, and moved in for the kill.
“Got a light?” She asked, seductively, after he had closed the distance having brushed his way through the decaying bodies of the scant Tuesday night crowd.
“No,” Breston replied smoothly, “But I have an eight-point-five inch long penis.”
Her bleach-blond bangs ruffled in excitement, the way a cat’s fuzzy face might if you were to hold a fishy treat up to it. There was only one kind of pussy that Breston was interested in, and only one type of fishy treat.
“Is that right?” The pussy purred, her blue green-flecked eyes brightening. “You wouldn’t lie to a lady now, would you?”
Breston felt his four-point-eight inch long member stiffen in his jeans and he readjusted his posture to conceal it.
“How about that light?” Breston murmured sensually, offering up his burning tip for the lady’s smoke.
“My, my,” She said, the words passing her lips in slow rolls of erotic delight. Pouting them around the slender filter, she moved in closer to Breston, taking her sweet time before finally allowing the cigarette to burn. “what a gentleman…”
“How old are you, by the way?” Breston interjected flirtily, “Like thirty, or something?”
“I’m twenty-eight…”
“Good enough,” Breston didn’t usually bang out grandmas, but in a drought like the one plaguing him, he knew it best to seek out any port possible to wait out the storm of pussilessness until the opportunity for a half-decent fuck with a youthful lay presented itself like that sword in the stone, or whatever the fuck it was. The thought occurred to Breston as if a crotch lightbulb had lit up around his midsection: ‘Perhaps she has a younger, hotter roommate…’ “Your place or mine? I have to warn you, though, my shitter is all backed up.”
“I… guess… we could go back to my-” The pussy stammered.
“Great, Let’s go.” Breston interrupted, sexily.
“Aren’t you at least going to buy me a drink first?” The pussy pleaded, motioning towards the disinterested bartender presumably getting ready to close up.
“Sure, we can stop at a liquor store on the way and grab some forties. If we move fast, we can make it before they stop selling booze. Come on, hurry!” Said Breston, throwing up an arm in the direction of the door like some mad conductor in the throes of a beautiful symphonic din.
And so Breston and the cheap night-time cooze bounded out into the darkness from whence they’d came, moving swiftly, lest the hour evade them and Breston be forced to grunt atop the relatively sub-5 geriatric female in the midst of returning accursed sobriety. An outcome which, he knew, simply wasn’t an option.
Breston Boobilay 3: Curse of the Cooze
“We have you now, Mr. Boobilay!” Malphus Mephistopheles cackled menacingly, relishing in his imminent, long-awaited triumph over renegade superspy Breston Boobilay, who lay helpless, strapped to the long metallic table as the laser beam drew ever closer to his bulging crotch. “Tell me, how does it feel to know that you will never get pussy again? Bwahahahaha!”
Breston could feel the billion-degree heat running along his exposed thighs, threatening his tighty-whitey clad dick and balls with extinction. That’s when he remembered; the tabs of flunitrazepam contained in the secret toe compartments of his shiny black loafers, of which Malphus’s underlings had neglected to remove along with his tuxedo pants. Breston began to chuckle a cackled laugh of his own, drawing the ire of his bedraggled captor.
“You know what your problem is, Malphus?” Malphus moved in closer, slamming a pale, thin palm down on the table by Breston’s head. Breston didn’t even blink. “You never got pussy. That’s why you hate me so much.”
“That isn’t true!” Malphus shrieked, the remainders of his long scraggly hair standing on end. “I’ve got pussy, lots of times!”
“Oh, yeah?” Breston replied coolly, “Who from?”
“You wouldn’t know her. She goes to a different school…”
The laser beam was just a few inches away from destroying Breston entirely, the distinctive burning stench of singed pubes beginning to fill the small subterranean chamber. He knew that he had to act fast.
“You wanna know a secret, Malphus?” Breston half-whispered.
“What?” Malphus replied, leaning in.
“SURPRISE ROOFIE!” With a flick of his loafer, Breston discharged a fleet of small pills into Malphus’s’s shocked, wide open mouth. He began to gag as they became lodged in his throat. ‘Bullseye’, Breston thought to himself smugly as he smirked, reaching out his hand and snatching the insane scientist's keys from his belt beneath his stained lab coat. In a flash, Breston was free and on his feet. By the time he was straightening his tie, Malphus Mephistopheles was passed out on the cold, metal floor; drooling.
Breston laughed, dropping his underwear and proceeding to teabag the unconscious man. Breston’s laugh erupted into a cackle surpassing that of any villain he had previously encountered, loud enough to alert Malphus’es’s throng of penguin-like minions. They gasped in horror as they witnessed the violation of their master.
“Who’s next!” Breston roared, the weird little penguin freaks fucking off in abject defeat, screaming as they went.
“I’m unstoppable! Do you understand that! I’m a god! I’m Breston Boobilay! Look at my work, and tremble!”
All of a sudden, Breston felt that familiar dreaded feeling begin to rear up from inside him. It stabbed at him with doubts and the incessant pain and the anxiety that made his body tremor. In an instant, he felt the power drain from him, replaced by something else. Something terrible. He looked down at his quaking hands, and saw that they were dripping with blood.
Breston awoke with a scream, as did the cooze he’d shacked up with. She hissed at him, still very cat-like in her manner.
“What the fuck, dude! Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Breston sighed, rubbing at the beading rows of sweat dangling from his manly brow. “Just another night terror…”
“Why is my bed all wet?..” The girl questioned hesitantly, “Is that… is that piss!”
“No!” Breston felt himself beneath the sheets, soaked to the bone. “No, it’s just sweat! See?”
Breston removed his hand from his soiled groin, lifting it up to her face so that she might smell that it was in fact only sweat. She screamed, penguinishly, as she fled from the room in hysterics. Breston stood and began to put his clothes back on, eyes never moving from the large dark stain covering the pink bedspread. It was a stain as dark as his soul, and Breston knew that he couldn’t hide from it deep in a pussy hole for very much longer…
Breston Boobilay 4: The Quest For Peace
Breston glared into the steam rising from his coffee cup, the sinuous curves of its alluring dance making his dick twitch minutely in subtle arousal. The hangover was debilitating, but he told himself that it would pass with the caffeine and the shower he longed for back at home. However, to his despair, Breston knew better. How many times had he been there before, like that? Not in that exact diner, in that exact situation, mouth dry as an old nun’s cooze and smelling faintly like urine, but simply infirm, haggard, and desperate for some kind of meaningful relief? Breston knew, in that uniquely lonely moment, that he’d never find it.
The waitress breasted boobily across the diner floor, carrying Breston’s pie aloft in the air towards him. He couldn’t help but take notice of the way that her uniform hugged her body as her bosom heaved heftily as she walked, and, yet, Breston’s manhood remained as limp and placid as a premature baby’s pinkie. She reminded him of her, when they first met. She set the plate down, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she smelled Breston’s undying shame.
“Will that be all, sir?” She said, already preparing to turn and leave him there, all alone. Just like she did.
Breston wanted to scream ‘No!’. He wanted to yell at her and spew out all the things that he should have said, before it was too late. Breston wanted to spring up from the booth and grab the woman by the knockers and say ‘Were they worth it! Does he love them better than I did!’, but, he didn’t. Instead, he said nothing. The waitress was already gone, along with Breston’s will to live. The coffee’s steam had diminished down to small, dwindling whisps. He scooped up the mug and finished its contents, focusing on the lukewarm liquid as it spilled down his throat as if it might quell the shaking in his hands. Breston knew that only one thing could do that. He glanced at the clock behind the counter. It was eleven-thirty AM. Time to hit the sauce, he thought, grimacing.
Breston Boobilay 5: A Long Way Down
The chilly afternoon stung at Breston as he brought the bottle back up to his lips for another sickening hit of brandy. The shakes had left him, but his despair had only grown. It had calcified, made clear in his mind in a way that was truly unignorable and utterly undeniable. Everything good that Breston had ever had; his wife, his upper management job at the Brooklyn meat plant, his youth. It had all gone away so quickly. Breston thought of his parents, and the beginnings of a tear began to form before being swept away across his temple by the incoming wind. He thought about the last thing his father had said to him before he had stormed out to go drinking the previous weekend: ‘Breston, you're forty-two-years old. It’s time you moved out of the house.’, and he remembered how angry he’d been; yelling and cussing him out as a ‘frigid dinosaur’ who refused to take the time to understand Breston’s ‘alternative lifestyle’, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Father could never understand.
Breston tipped the bottle over his mouth and gulped down the remains of the liquor as he savored every last, overpriced trickle before shambling over to the guardrail at the rooftop’s edge. He eyed the distance between the two buildings, then he took the drop into account. After a moment, he took a step back, raised the bottle over his head, and launched it. It arched high over the street below before clattering against a tall windowpane of the office block opposite the building he was on.
“Bullseye…” Breston said aloud, to no one.
Suddenly, he got a flash of the dream he’d had the night before when he blacked out in that cooze kitten’s piss pad, and the urge to run and jump doubled in intensity. Breston didn’t like to remember. He didn’t want to. But, even in his nightmares, Matty was still there. Matty was always there. He was their favorite. Always was. It was always, ‘Breston, why can’t you be more like your younger brother?’, ‘Why can’t you be more like Matty?’. Always so perfect, with his good grades and mommy’s constant approval. Breston hated him. Oh, how he hated Matty with every fiber of his being, and he made that clear when Matty reached highschool. Breston was supposed to look out for Matty, protect him. But Breston did anything but. Matty was shy, and insecure about himself, but, most of all, Matty was ashamed of the fact that he’d never had a girlfriend before. Breston would make a big show of bringing whatever hoe-bag he’d seduced with daddy’s money back home so that he could flaunt her around like some prize that Matty could never earn, which crushed him, but not nearly as much as when Breston began spreading the rumors around school about how his dick didn’t work. By the end of the week, Matty was little more than a laughing stock and an emotional, broken wreck, and by the end of the month, Matty was dead.
“It wasn’t my fault, you stupid fuck!” Breston screamed into the dispassionate, gray New York sky within which no God could ever dwell, flashes of his mother screeching, ‘You did this! You!’ tearing at him like sharpened, savage claws ripping their way ravenously through a model’s skimpy lingerie. “I could have helped you! I could have made it all okay again!”
Breston fell to his knees and began to sob like the sad little boy he’d always known he was, feeling more alone than he ever had been before in his entire life. He had made so many mistakes. So many people hurt, and for what? His passing, childish amusement? His bottomless desire for gratification? A cover to hide from the hurt of it all? Breston didn’t know anymore, and he didn’t want to. He couldn’t think about it anymore. He couldn’t take it.
Standing on trembling legs, Breston tentatively put both hands on the railing before gripping it firmly, whimpering as if it produced some sort of electric shock with his touch. He tried to remember when the last time he had felt scared like that was, but he realized that there was nothing even remotely comparable to hold onto. Before another thought could pass through Breston’s head, he took a quick, deep breath, closed his eyes, thrust one foot over the waist-high metal railing and allowed himself to fall. The wind whipped him with the force of a jet engine as he soared towards the ground, half-screaming, half-choking as it knocked the air out of him. Despite the unimaginable terror, and all the regret and the shame and the misery and the abject disappointment that was his nothing of a life, Breston couldn’t help but feel at peace now that it was finally all over. For a fraction of a second, Breston opened his eyes, and he never closed them again…
2024.05.11 14:24 HayzWrites Keith's Transformation Ch 4 [M30s/M30s/F30s][crossdressing][femdom][chastity][first time bi][blowjob]
Keith's Transformation Ch 4 [M30s/M30s/F30s][crossdressing][femdom][chastity][first time bi][blowjob]
Friday morning came, meaning it had been a week since their session, and Keith couldn’t stop wondering about the surprise Jasmine had mentioned. His cock was still locked away, and though he had grown used to the weight, it served as a constant reminder. He had to laugh at the irony, the cage making him horny while also preventing him from so much as getting hard, much less getting relief.
As he started getting ready for the day, he was intrigued to find a pair of silk panties and a note in his underwear drawer. He could nearly hear the words written in Jasmine’s dominant voice. “I think you should wear these today. I want to make sure you’re in the mood for tonight.” His cock fought against the cage as his thoughts fought between sexy fantasies of what was coming, and the embarrassment of wearing panties all day. Nevertheless he pulled them on, leaving his folded boxers in the drawer.
His day passed in a daze, barely able to focus on the work he was doing. His heart skipped a beat every time someone came to his desk to ask a question, and through every meeting, sure someone would notice somehow. When the end of the day came, he rushed to pack up and head out, politely declining offers to go out for a drink from a few co-workers on his team.
Dinner was mercilessly normal. Jasmine gave nothing away, almost as if she hadn’t been taunting him about tonight for a week. It wasn’t until later, as he was bent over loading the dishwasher, that she made her move. She came up behind him, hand rubbing over his ass and whispered in his ear “When you’re done there, come upstairs so we can get ready for your surprise. You’ve been such a patient girl for me.” His cock twitched against the cage as she walked off and he hurried to finish loading the last of the plates.
He came into the room as she finished laying out his outfit for the night, but he was surprised to see she wasn’t dressed yet. She looked at him expectantly and he stripped and started to put on his outfit for the night. It started with a pair of black lacy panties that swallowed up his caged package, leaving just the hint of a bulge. This was followed shortly by soft fishnet leggings, though he left the heels for now. A lacy bra matched the panties, and he was surprised to find that some clever padding and positioning turned his natural, slightly flabby chest into a perky pair of A cups, complete with a hint of cleavage. Finally, he pulled the dress on top, taking a few moments to adjust the mesh sleeves and straps, and stepped into a pair of high heels.
Once he was dressed, she sat him on the bed and grabbed her makeup. This was new, but he sat obediently as she went at him with brushes and pencils. Satisfied, she gave his ass a slap before leaving to get ready herself.
Keith stared in disbelief at the woman he saw in the full-length mirror in front of him. A pair of crimson, three-inch heels started the outfit, giving way to fishnets running up her smooth legs. The centerpiece of the outfit was a black and red gothic Lolita dress. Fluffy ruffles and frills of lace gave a playful edge to the short skirt and revealing top. Transparent black mesh covered her arms below the shoulder. The top was low cut, dipping low enough to give just a peak of her small but firm cleavage. Straps ran from the top to a trimmed collar around her neck. Her dark hair was left down, falling just short of her shoulders, framing her face. Her lips were painted with a deep red that looked nearly black, giving sharp contrast to her pale skin. Light mascara and eye shadow drew attention to her piercing blue eyes that seemed to look through Keith’s soul as he stared.
The sight left Keith in a daze, there was no way he was looking at himself. There wasn’t a trace of himself in the reflection, no matter where he looked. No, this wasn’t him anymore. Sure, Keith was the one looking into the mirror, but Kelly was staring back at him.
“How the hell did I get here?” He asked himself, then shook his head to clear his thoughts as he heard Jasmine coming back.
His eyes widened as he saw her outfit for the night. She stood before him in a white suit that had just a hint of pearlescent shine. Matching pearl earrings glinted from among her flowing hair. The suit jacket was fastened by just one button right below her cleavage, showing and framing a lacy crimson corset displaying her impressive cleavage. The crisp suit pants stopped right above her ankles, giving clear view of blood red heels to match the corset. Her own makeup was impeccably done. Around her neck was a thin silver chain. Dangling on the end, resting just above her cleavage, was a small padlock key.
“Ready to go Kelly?” She asked, taking his hand before he could respond. His heart was pounding as she grabbed her purse and pulled him to the garage. She ushered him into the passenger side of the car and climbed in. She saw the panic clear on his face and took his hand, smiling at him.
“We don’t have to go out, we can just go back upstairs. But I want to see you suck a real cock, and I think you want to be a good girl and show me, don’t you?” His submissive urge to please her warred with his humiliation, the two feelings mixing and setting off a storm of desire in his chest. She whispered in his ear and his fate was sealed. “Are you going to be my good girl?” Keith nodded weakly. He, or tonight rather she, was Jasmine’s to command.
Jasmine drove them through the town, one hand resting on Kelly’s leg for support, pulling into the parking lot of a small local bar. Once again taking her hand as they entered the bar, Kelly could feel multiple pairs of eyes on them as they entered. She supposed they did make quite the pair. Jasmine led her to a booth in the corner, leaving her to sit as she went for drinks.
A few minutes into their drinks and chatting someone approached their booth. Kelly nearly jumped in surprised as he said hi, but Jasmine clapped in excitement. “John! You’re right on time. This is Kelly, she’s who I was telling you about. Kelly this is John, he’s going to help us tonight.” She said with a knowing wink in her direction.
A few drinks and a short walk later, the three of them found themselves in a hotel room Jasmine had reserved for the night. As soon as they got in the room, Jasmine grabbed Kelly by the hair and pulled her towards the bed. John pulled off his shirt and pants, but as he was hooking in his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear he was stopped by Jasmine. “Leave the boxers, I want her to get the full reveal.” He shrugged and came to sit on the edge of the bed in front of them.
Jasmine pulled Kelly’s head in front of his crotch then leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Now be a good girl and give me a good show.” Kelly shuddered, her dick fighting to rise in her cage, as she looked at the obvious bulge in front of her. Jasmine let her go and moved to sit in a chair off to the side, unbuttoning her suit jacket as she sat. “I’m waiting slut.” Kelly slowly pulled off his boxers, eyes widening as his cock came into view. Already hard, he was even bigger than the strap-on Jasmine had trained her with. Licking her lips, she opened her mouth and took the head in with no hesitation. She paused for a minute, not used to the taste and the warmth compared to the dildos she was used to sucking. John’s hand came to rest lightly on her head and she went to work.
She started slow, sucking gently on the head as she swirled her tongue around, then moving down his shaft slowly. She wrapped one hand around the base of his shaft and stroked slowly as she bobbed over the first few inches of his dick. His hand pushed lightly on the back of her head, fingers twisting in her hair as she sucked and licked. Her hand moved down to play with his balls as she lowered her mouth completely down his shaft. She looked up at him with lust in her eyes as she deepthroated his dick, reveling in his soft groans as his cock stretched her throat.
Over in the chair, Jasmine’s pants were around her ankles and her fingers were rubbing her clit furiously. Her gaze fixed on the sight of Kelly on her knees, her throat bulging around John’s thick cock. “God yes baby, you’re such a good girl.” She moaned out, slipping two fingers inside herself. “Show me what a good cock sucker you are.” Kelly redoubled her efforts and started to slide faster up and down his dick. John groaned, letting her go for a few minutes before tightening his grip and taking control. He held her head in place and started thrusting at a brutal pace. Drool dripped off Kelly’s chin as he fucked her face, using her mouth fast and hard. Kelly’s dick was leaking precum into her panties as she was used like a cheap toy.
It didn’t take long before John groaned loudly and pulled her as far as he could down his dick. She felt his dick throb as he pumped his cum directly down her throat and heard Jasmine moan out loudly as her own orgasm overtook her. John pulled her off his dick, causing the last few shots of cum to fill her mouth and splash across her face. Pulling her glistening fingers from her pussy, Jasmine smiled a wicked smile as she looked at Kelly’s cum smeared face.
“Good girl. You did so well. Now for the main event...”
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Friday morning came, meaning it had been a week since their session, and Keith couldn’t stop wondering about the surprise Jasmine had mentioned. His cock was still locked away, and though he had grown used to the weight, it served as a constant reminder. He had to laugh at the irony, the cage making him horny while also preventing him from so much as getting hard, much less getting relief.
As he started getting ready for the day, he was intrigued to find a pair of silk panties and a note in his underwear drawer. He could nearly hear the words written in Jasmine’s dominant voice. “I think you should wear these today. I want to make sure you’re in the mood for tonight.” His cock fought against the cage as his thoughts fought between sexy fantasies of what was coming, and the embarrassment of wearing panties all day. Nevertheless he pulled them on, leaving his folded boxers in the drawer.
His day passed in a daze, barely able to focus on the work he was doing. His heart skipped a beat every time someone came to his desk to ask a question, and through every meeting, sure someone would notice somehow. When the end of the day came, he rushed to pack up and head out, politely declining offers to go out for a drink from a few co-workers on his team.
Dinner was mercilessly normal. Jasmine gave nothing away, almost as if she hadn’t been taunting him about tonight for a week. It wasn’t until later, as he was bent over loading the dishwasher, that she made her move. She came up behind him, hand rubbing over his ass and whispered in his ear “When you’re done there, come upstairs so we can get ready for your surprise. You’ve been such a patient girl for me.” His cock twitched against the cage as she walked off and he hurried to finish loading the last of the plates.
He came into the room as she finished laying out his outfit for the night, but he was surprised to see she wasn’t dressed yet. She looked at him expectantly and he stripped and started to put on his outfit for the night. It started with a pair of black lacy panties that swallowed up his caged package, leaving just the hint of a bulge. This was followed shortly by soft fishnet leggings, though he left the heels for now. A lacy bra matched the panties, and he was surprised to find that some clever padding and positioning turned his natural, slightly flabby chest into a perky pair of A cups, complete with a hint of cleavage. Finally, he pulled the dress on top, taking a few moments to adjust the mesh sleeves and straps, and stepped into a pair of high heels.
Once he was dressed, she sat him on the bed and grabbed her makeup. This was new, but he sat obediently as she went at him with brushes and pencils. Satisfied, she gave his ass a slap before leaving to get ready herself.
Keith stared in disbelief at the woman he saw in the full-length mirror in front of him. A pair of crimson, three-inch heels started the outfit, giving way to fishnets running up her smooth legs. The centerpiece of the outfit was a black and red gothic Lolita dress. Fluffy ruffles and frills of lace gave a playful edge to the short skirt and revealing top. Transparent black mesh covered her arms below the shoulder. The top was low cut, dipping low enough to give just a peak of her small but firm cleavage. Straps ran from the top to a trimmed collar around her neck. Her dark hair was left down, falling just short of her shoulders, framing her face. Her lips were painted with a deep red that looked nearly black, giving sharp contrast to her pale skin. Light mascara and eye shadow drew attention to her piercing blue eyes that seemed to look through Keith’s soul as he stared.
The sight left Keith in a daze, there was no way he was looking at himself. There wasn’t a trace of himself in the reflection, no matter where he looked. No, this wasn’t him anymore. Sure, Keith was the one looking into the mirror, but Kelly was staring back at him.
“How the hell did I get here?” He asked himself, then shook his head to clear his thoughts as he heard Jasmine coming back.
His eyes widened as he saw her outfit for the night. She stood before him in a white suit that had just a hint of pearlescent shine. Matching pearl earrings glinted from among her flowing hair. The suit jacket was fastened by just one button right below her cleavage, showing and framing a lacy crimson corset displaying her impressive cleavage. The crisp suit pants stopped right above her ankles, giving clear view of blood red heels to match the corset. Her own makeup was impeccably done. Around her neck was a thin silver chain. Dangling on the end, resting just above her cleavage, was a small padlock key.
“Ready to go Kelly?” She asked, taking his hand before he could respond. His heart was pounding as she grabbed her purse and pulled him to the garage. She ushered him into the passenger side of the car and climbed in. She saw the panic clear on his face and took his hand, smiling at him.
“We don’t have to go out, we can just go back upstairs. But I want to see you suck a real cock, and I think you want to be a good girl and show me, don’t you?” His submissive urge to please her warred with his humiliation, the two feelings mixing and setting off a storm of desire in his chest. She whispered in his ear and his fate was sealed. “Are you going to be my good girl?” Keith nodded weakly. He, or tonight rather she, was Jasmine’s to command.
Jasmine drove them through the town, one hand resting on Kelly’s leg for support, pulling into the parking lot of a small local bar. Once again taking her hand as they entered the bar, Kelly could feel multiple pairs of eyes on them as they entered. She supposed they did make quite the pair. Jasmine led her to a booth in the corner, leaving her to sit as she went for drinks.
A few minutes into their drinks and chatting someone approached their booth. Kelly nearly jumped in surprised as he said hi, but Jasmine clapped in excitement. “John! You’re right on time. This is Kelly, she’s who I was telling you about. Kelly this is John, he’s going to help us tonight.” She said with a knowing wink in her direction.
A few drinks and a short walk later, the three of them found themselves in a hotel room Jasmine had reserved for the night. As soon as they got in the room, Jasmine grabbed Kelly by the hair and pulled her towards the bed. John pulled off his shirt and pants, but as he was hooking in his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear he was stopped by Jasmine. “Leave the boxers, I want her to get the full reveal.” He shrugged and came to sit on the edge of the bed in front of them.
Jasmine pulled Kelly’s head in front of his crotch then leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Now be a good girl and give me a good show.” Kelly shuddered, her dick fighting to rise in her cage, as she looked at the obvious bulge in front of her. Jasmine let her go and moved to sit in a chair off to the side, unbuttoning her suit jacket as she sat. “I’m waiting slut.” Kelly slowly pulled off his boxers, eyes widening as his cock came into view. Already hard, he was even bigger than the strap-on Jasmine had trained her with. Licking her lips, she opened her mouth and took the head in with no hesitation. She paused for a minute, not used to the taste and the warmth compared to the dildos she was used to sucking. John’s hand came to rest lightly on her head and she went to work.
She started slow, sucking gently on the head as she swirled her tongue around, then moving down his shaft slowly. She wrapped one hand around the base of his shaft and stroked slowly as she bobbed over the first few inches of his dick. His hand pushed lightly on the back of her head, fingers twisting in her hair as she sucked and licked. Her hand moved down to play with his balls as she lowered her mouth completely down his shaft. She looked up at him with lust in her eyes as she deepthroated his dick, reveling in his soft groans as his cock stretched her throat.
Over in the chair, Jasmine’s pants were around her ankles and her fingers were rubbing her clit furiously. Her gaze fixed on the sight of Kelly on her knees, her throat bulging around John’s thick cock. “God yes baby, you’re such a good girl.” She moaned out, slipping two fingers inside herself. “Show me what a good cock sucker you are.” Kelly redoubled her efforts and started to slide faster up and down his dick. John groaned, letting her go for a few minutes before tightening his grip and taking control. He held her head in place and started thrusting at a brutal pace. Drool dripped off Kelly’s chin as he fucked her face, using her mouth fast and hard. Kelly’s dick was leaking precum into her panties as she was used like a cheap toy.
It didn’t take long before John groaned loudly and pulled her as far as he could down his dick. She felt his dick throb as he pumped his cum directly down her throat and heard Jasmine moan out loudly as her own orgasm overtook her. John pulled her off his dick, causing the last few shots of cum to fill her mouth and splash across her face. Pulling her glistening fingers from her pussy, Jasmine smiled a wicked smile as she looked at Kelly’s cum smeared face.
“Good girl. You did so well. Now for the main event...”
2024.05.11 06:00 PearPumpkinTommy Trade in Kind 3
She breathlessly lunged across the chasm, catching the edge and skittering up and over the lip of the next building. She scrambled against the wall that created the lip, chest heaving. Trying to calm the fire erupting from her lungs without making noise.
Then she heard it. A roof access door flew open and a small tink sound. A few seconds later, a shock wave and bright light passed over her head. She then heard the boots. Military precision. The light still burning projected their silhouettes on the taller building behind her position. She counted eight. An army of feet sounded as they mechanically swept the roof for her presence.
The light fizzled out and her world went dark. As the darkness swept in, the team looking for her went silent. No more boots. No more light. She felt blind and deaf. All she could hear were her two hearts racing each other past her auditory membranes. Swiiiiish. Thub. Swoooohs. Thib. Swiiiish. Thub. Swoooohs.
Her anxiety rose up into her nasal cavity. Her eyes started watering. They knew. Run. Go. They wouldn't stay still this long. You're dead if you don't move.
She tried to stop herself but she couldn't. Slowly inching up to get her eyes over the ledge, holding her head sideways so her plume wouldnt give her away, her right eye broke the surface. She saw them. One was looking right at her. He brought his gun up and pointed it right at her, the light causing her eye to constrict to a tiny point.
This is it. Her death. This was just masonry. Their bullets would make short work of the wall, her, and probably the building behind her. Closing her eyes, she prayed. Mumbling out the prayer her parents taught her in her youth, "O Arine, teacher of roads, keeper of knowledge, please use my mind to perfect your realm." She swallowed. Hard.
And waited. And then kept waiting. She parted her clenched eyes.
Why wasn't she dead?
She opened her eyes fully and brought her head up sideways again. The one that had to have spotted her was looking over the edge of the building searching the street below for something. The guard heard another speak and turned towards what looked like a leader. They appeared to have a conversation, but she couldn't hear a thing. Or.....anything. No air noise. No street sounds. She tapped an ear. No, she'd heard that.
"Don't worry, they can't see past the barrier."
She screached in shock and dove at her attacker, talons outstretched. He dodged the incoming attack deftly, but did nothing else. She slammed into the ground and skittered to regain her footing and spun around, wings outstretched talons flared.
"I'm Marlon. I believe I was expecting you, K'lithay?"
She raised her head from her fighting stance at her name. Her lungs rasped as she pulled in air. "You....are my contact?"
"Yes."
She lumbered at breathing for another moment. "Who--What are you?" Her eyes took in this short bag of flesh as her arms slowly fell to her sides. A short, cropped mash of fine fur on it's head, two small eyes, some sort of potruberance just below them and a flappy structure that seemed to be its mouth. A pulpy stub of flesh came out and quickly circled the opening.
The creature huffed and then said, "I am human. I need to get you to the space port so that we can get you off this rock."
K'lithay chittered her beak. "And just how are we going to waltz onto a ship? I'm very conspicuous, you know."
"Oh, I'm well aware that an almost three meter tall, taloned, and brightly colored rainbow such as yourself is very obvious. But, if you are willing to act without pride and stay a slave a bit longer, I think I can just take you through the front door."
Marlon held up a slave shackle and imprint pad. K'lithay eyed them suspiciously. "You expect me to willingly give myself to you? After what I just did to escape?"
"Only until we can get to the shuttle. If you look over the data on the pad, you'll see its a paid servant contract that expired last year. Here, they'll never question why you are still shackled and owned, but once we aren't in Larin space, you can leave at any time."
"Except I'll be shackled," she raised her wing and pointed to a calloused spot on the forearm, "That's how you control me."
"Ahh, but you'll find human ingenuity at it's finest in this shackle!" Marlon snapped the shackle onto his wrist and tossed the control unit to her.
K'lithay sneered as she caught it. "Oh, so you'll let me shock you. Boo hoo, then I'll release you and I'll be stuck with the real deal."
Marlon huffed air again. "This is a trick hinge. You can take it off any time you want. Start pressing controls, you'll see im not harmed in the least."
K'lithay examined the control device. It was basically the same unit her master -- ex-master, she chided herself - had used. She tapped the shock button.
Marlon held it up. A small electric arc showed at the edge of the collar, but it looked like it had just tightened up on the inside, somehow. He didn't seem the least bit concerned that he should be falling to the ground in pain.
"It tightens to let me know when you've pressed the button, so that if anyone were to get the controller, I can still play along. For shock, it tightens and displays this little bolt to make the show. It'll release when you stop pressing the button. For the chime it'll tighten three times rapidly to let you know you've been called and it'll blink amber on the top. If you run out of time, it'll tighten in pulses to let you know you are getting progressively worse shocks for not coming."
"What even is the point of this? It's got to be impossibly expensive to even make a fake shackle."
"Expense?" A strange forced halting sound came out of the creature's mouth, "It's not nearly as .....expensive as your life."
"Hah. My life was purchased for two kilograms of keri beans. I'm not worth this. You are trying to scam me."
Marlon stared at her. She saw a strange hardness in the muscles on his face that weren't there a moment ago. The eyes. Just a moment ago, they seemed....soft. Now there was a rigid hardness that unsettled her, she felt like prey to a hungry predator. The white around an icy blue coloring only accentuated the blackness at the center of the creature's sight. Her heart started beating faster.
"I would have you know that each life - every one - is priceless. No amount of expense is spared saving people from your former life - not even my own life." Marlon said in a way that reverberated through her very bones as he took a step towards her.
K'lithay blinked and stepped back, unsure of what was coming as Marlon approached and brought up his arm. "Now, if you press here and here, the shackle pops off on the hinge side and the lock side stays locked. Here, you try it!" Marlon said with his former demeanor, holding up the shackle.
K'lithay haltingly took hold of it, her heart still beating a pace quicker than normal. She eyed the device, then eyed this strange creature before her.
"What are you?"
"A human."
"But...what are...what is a human?"
"Oh! We were conquered as slaves by the Xen'cready a couple centuries ago. We've lost our home world and so most of us just kind of wander and help where we are needed. "
"Why?"
"Because.... it's only when you've lost everything that you see the universe for what it is. "
"Uh huh." K'lithay undulated her plumage, "And the scam finally comes out. Let's hear it. What is the universe?"
"It's us. Our love, joy, hatred, passion. The evil and the good. This cycle - slavery, power, money - it can only be stopped if each of us stop it." Marlon swung the roof door open with a flourish. "Now. If you want out, we have a ride to catch."
K'lithay stared out the window of their cabin. It was cramped, but it was private for the two of them. It had been a long day. It was hard to act a slave. Marlon insisted that nothing seem out of the ordinary for a master to slave relationship.
The Kirellan guard had been the worst. Instead of dropping him limb from limb for being a piece of slaving trash, she'd had to a act the part of simpering slave and react to Marlon's fake shocks.
She looked over on the floor to Marlon's sleeping form. He'd insisted she take the bed. Had she not met him on that rooftop, he'd certainly look exactly like her m- ex-master. He'd made her bring him food, then groused with another slaver about her beating up his slave over bets.
She chittered softly to herself as she sank into an uneasy slumber.
K'lithay stood and watched from her vantage point as part of the wait staff at a restaurant on one of the docks. In the six months since Marlon had brought her here and set her free, she had worked and observed the humans.
They had an "Embassy" down in the Scourge - a place that wasn't misnamed - that none of the criminals would touch.
All of these humans seemed to have jobs on the ships, but she never saw any of them talk to the crew, just disappear when they were about to leave and reappear when the ships docked.
After all they had done, she didn't mistrust the humans, exactly, but something about them bothered her. They had no jobs, no way to earn money, but they were always there to help anyone out. And the way the ship crews talked about them - like some sort of lucky charm mixed with a pet mixed with a spirit - made her....uneasy.
Marlon snapped her from her inner thoughts. "Good morning, K'lithay, my dear. How are you, today?"
"Oh, Hi, Marlon. What can I get for you?"
"Some Askarian eggs, scrambled, and a pint of cathan smoked meat. A cup of Joe would be good, too." He said in a rigid, gravelly tone.
"Alright. That'll be twelve credits. "
Marlon laid a credit stick on the table as she poured the cup of hot green liquid. His eyes were unfocused, ringed in red. She knew all too well what that meant. He had lost a slave during a rescue.
"What happened out there?"
He looked at her and blinked a couple of times. "A piece of trash put a bomb into her sex slave. When he ran too far from his owners home, it ruptured a vial of acid inside his brain. He cried out and I caught him. I thought maybe he had caught his leg or something.... but then I saw it. His torso was bubbling.....He grabbed me and said 'Thank you'. I....I kind of went a little haywire."
K'lithay watched his jaw tremble and fluid run down his face, his eyes fixed on the swirling mug in front of him. "Hey! It'll be okay. Like you said last time, you can't win them all." She attempted to comfort him.
"No. I gave up my position.....I went too far." He looked up at her. " I went back to this owners home and I....cut right into her reproductive sack and then tied her up and left her for her hounds to find. I watched her scream as they tore her into scraps."
K'lithay cocked her head. "So? It's what she probably deserved."
"NO!" Marlon snapped at her heavily, "I cannot be judge, jury, and executioner! None of us can!" Other diners turned at the outburst and Marlon glanced around, lowering his voice. "How many slaves did I just kill by making their owners afraid for their own lives, K'lithay?"
K'lithay blinked. She rolled his words over in her mind. The Humans always had a unique view. Not just the immediate, but also, somehow, a medium and long term view all at the same time. He was right. Masters -- OWNERS - would try to protect themselves above all else.
"So, what are you going to do then?"
"I'll find a local place for a few months and see where else I can fit, I guess. The Embassy is always looking for help."
"Don't go there! I think they are raising an army."
Marlon stopped cold, his mug half raised, his face trying to decide between despair and shock. "Errrr.... what?"
"I've heard rumors that the humans who run that place are creating an army so they can start taking ships. That's why you heart about all these stowaways that only contribute for free."
"Uh....huh." Marlon was clearly processing what she'd said. "Man, people really have a knack for getting things half right." Marlon started his human laughing.
K'lithay ruffled her plumage, flustered. "How can you cry and then laugh??"
Marlon slowly stopped laughing over the next moment, and then took another drink. "I have a lot more crying coming, K'lithay," Marlon said, dipping into a sad tone, "But you gave me a little context, and helped brighten my day. Thank you." He got up to leave.
K'lithay looked down and grabbed his credit stick. "Your credit stick, Marlon!"
"Keep it."
K'lithay watched Marlon leave. Once he was out of sight, she reached into her smock and pulled out a notebook. Flipping through the pages, she found her previous note, "Human army?" and slid a line through it with her pen. She clucked, pondering. Why are humans so....human?
She brought her gaze to the credit stick in her hand. The digital funds read out said 1100 credits remaining. Her jaw dropped and she instinctively looked back for Marlon, but didn't see him anywhere.
Marlon walked, somewhat cheered in disposition. He pulled out his handtop and reread the resignation email he sent.
He couldn't find fault with his need to resign, even now, so he let it be. He looked up to see three Officers of a ship staring slack jawed at a young woman and her....grandfather? Or at least a much older gentleman.
He maneuvered closer to try to hear why a crew was actually talking to a human.
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Then she heard it. A roof access door flew open and a small tink sound. A few seconds later, a shock wave and bright light passed over her head. She then heard the boots. Military precision. The light still burning projected their silhouettes on the taller building behind her position. She counted eight. An army of feet sounded as they mechanically swept the roof for her presence.
The light fizzled out and her world went dark. As the darkness swept in, the team looking for her went silent. No more boots. No more light. She felt blind and deaf. All she could hear were her two hearts racing each other past her auditory membranes. Swiiiiish. Thub. Swoooohs. Thib. Swiiiish. Thub. Swoooohs.
Her anxiety rose up into her nasal cavity. Her eyes started watering. They knew. Run. Go. They wouldn't stay still this long. You're dead if you don't move.
She tried to stop herself but she couldn't. Slowly inching up to get her eyes over the ledge, holding her head sideways so her plume wouldnt give her away, her right eye broke the surface. She saw them. One was looking right at her. He brought his gun up and pointed it right at her, the light causing her eye to constrict to a tiny point.
This is it. Her death. This was just masonry. Their bullets would make short work of the wall, her, and probably the building behind her. Closing her eyes, she prayed. Mumbling out the prayer her parents taught her in her youth, "O Arine, teacher of roads, keeper of knowledge, please use my mind to perfect your realm." She swallowed. Hard.
And waited. And then kept waiting. She parted her clenched eyes.
Why wasn't she dead?
She opened her eyes fully and brought her head up sideways again. The one that had to have spotted her was looking over the edge of the building searching the street below for something. The guard heard another speak and turned towards what looked like a leader. They appeared to have a conversation, but she couldn't hear a thing. Or.....anything. No air noise. No street sounds. She tapped an ear. No, she'd heard that.
"Don't worry, they can't see past the barrier."
She screached in shock and dove at her attacker, talons outstretched. He dodged the incoming attack deftly, but did nothing else. She slammed into the ground and skittered to regain her footing and spun around, wings outstretched talons flared.
"I'm Marlon. I believe I was expecting you, K'lithay?"
She raised her head from her fighting stance at her name. Her lungs rasped as she pulled in air. "You....are my contact?"
"Yes."
She lumbered at breathing for another moment. "Who--What are you?" Her eyes took in this short bag of flesh as her arms slowly fell to her sides. A short, cropped mash of fine fur on it's head, two small eyes, some sort of potruberance just below them and a flappy structure that seemed to be its mouth. A pulpy stub of flesh came out and quickly circled the opening.
The creature huffed and then said, "I am human. I need to get you to the space port so that we can get you off this rock."
K'lithay chittered her beak. "And just how are we going to waltz onto a ship? I'm very conspicuous, you know."
"Oh, I'm well aware that an almost three meter tall, taloned, and brightly colored rainbow such as yourself is very obvious. But, if you are willing to act without pride and stay a slave a bit longer, I think I can just take you through the front door."
Marlon held up a slave shackle and imprint pad. K'lithay eyed them suspiciously. "You expect me to willingly give myself to you? After what I just did to escape?"
"Only until we can get to the shuttle. If you look over the data on the pad, you'll see its a paid servant contract that expired last year. Here, they'll never question why you are still shackled and owned, but once we aren't in Larin space, you can leave at any time."
"Except I'll be shackled," she raised her wing and pointed to a calloused spot on the forearm, "That's how you control me."
"Ahh, but you'll find human ingenuity at it's finest in this shackle!" Marlon snapped the shackle onto his wrist and tossed the control unit to her.
K'lithay sneered as she caught it. "Oh, so you'll let me shock you. Boo hoo, then I'll release you and I'll be stuck with the real deal."
Marlon huffed air again. "This is a trick hinge. You can take it off any time you want. Start pressing controls, you'll see im not harmed in the least."
K'lithay examined the control device. It was basically the same unit her master -- ex-master, she chided herself - had used. She tapped the shock button.
Marlon held it up. A small electric arc showed at the edge of the collar, but it looked like it had just tightened up on the inside, somehow. He didn't seem the least bit concerned that he should be falling to the ground in pain.
"It tightens to let me know when you've pressed the button, so that if anyone were to get the controller, I can still play along. For shock, it tightens and displays this little bolt to make the show. It'll release when you stop pressing the button. For the chime it'll tighten three times rapidly to let you know you've been called and it'll blink amber on the top. If you run out of time, it'll tighten in pulses to let you know you are getting progressively worse shocks for not coming."
"What even is the point of this? It's got to be impossibly expensive to even make a fake shackle."
"Expense?" A strange forced halting sound came out of the creature's mouth, "It's not nearly as .....expensive as your life."
"Hah. My life was purchased for two kilograms of keri beans. I'm not worth this. You are trying to scam me."
Marlon stared at her. She saw a strange hardness in the muscles on his face that weren't there a moment ago. The eyes. Just a moment ago, they seemed....soft. Now there was a rigid hardness that unsettled her, she felt like prey to a hungry predator. The white around an icy blue coloring only accentuated the blackness at the center of the creature's sight. Her heart started beating faster.
"I would have you know that each life - every one - is priceless. No amount of expense is spared saving people from your former life - not even my own life." Marlon said in a way that reverberated through her very bones as he took a step towards her.
K'lithay blinked and stepped back, unsure of what was coming as Marlon approached and brought up his arm. "Now, if you press here and here, the shackle pops off on the hinge side and the lock side stays locked. Here, you try it!" Marlon said with his former demeanor, holding up the shackle.
K'lithay haltingly took hold of it, her heart still beating a pace quicker than normal. She eyed the device, then eyed this strange creature before her.
"What are you?"
"A human."
"But...what are...what is a human?"
"Oh! We were conquered as slaves by the Xen'cready a couple centuries ago. We've lost our home world and so most of us just kind of wander and help where we are needed. "
"Why?"
"Because.... it's only when you've lost everything that you see the universe for what it is. "
"Uh huh." K'lithay undulated her plumage, "And the scam finally comes out. Let's hear it. What is the universe?"
"It's us. Our love, joy, hatred, passion. The evil and the good. This cycle - slavery, power, money - it can only be stopped if each of us stop it." Marlon swung the roof door open with a flourish. "Now. If you want out, we have a ride to catch."
The Kirellan guard had been the worst. Instead of dropping him limb from limb for being a piece of slaving trash, she'd had to a act the part of simpering slave and react to Marlon's fake shocks.
She looked over on the floor to Marlon's sleeping form. He'd insisted she take the bed. Had she not met him on that rooftop, he'd certainly look exactly like her m- ex-master. He'd made her bring him food, then groused with another slaver about her beating up his slave over bets.
She chittered softly to herself as she sank into an uneasy slumber.
They had an "Embassy" down in the Scourge - a place that wasn't misnamed - that none of the criminals would touch.
All of these humans seemed to have jobs on the ships, but she never saw any of them talk to the crew, just disappear when they were about to leave and reappear when the ships docked.
After all they had done, she didn't mistrust the humans, exactly, but something about them bothered her. They had no jobs, no way to earn money, but they were always there to help anyone out. And the way the ship crews talked about them - like some sort of lucky charm mixed with a pet mixed with a spirit - made her....uneasy.
Marlon snapped her from her inner thoughts. "Good morning, K'lithay, my dear. How are you, today?"
"Oh, Hi, Marlon. What can I get for you?"
"Some Askarian eggs, scrambled, and a pint of cathan smoked meat. A cup of Joe would be good, too." He said in a rigid, gravelly tone.
"Alright. That'll be twelve credits. "
Marlon laid a credit stick on the table as she poured the cup of hot green liquid. His eyes were unfocused, ringed in red. She knew all too well what that meant. He had lost a slave during a rescue.
"What happened out there?"
He looked at her and blinked a couple of times. "A piece of trash put a bomb into her sex slave. When he ran too far from his owners home, it ruptured a vial of acid inside his brain. He cried out and I caught him. I thought maybe he had caught his leg or something.... but then I saw it. His torso was bubbling.....He grabbed me and said 'Thank you'. I....I kind of went a little haywire."
K'lithay watched his jaw tremble and fluid run down his face, his eyes fixed on the swirling mug in front of him. "Hey! It'll be okay. Like you said last time, you can't win them all." She attempted to comfort him.
"No. I gave up my position.....I went too far." He looked up at her. " I went back to this owners home and I....cut right into her reproductive sack and then tied her up and left her for her hounds to find. I watched her scream as they tore her into scraps."
K'lithay cocked her head. "So? It's what she probably deserved."
"NO!" Marlon snapped at her heavily, "I cannot be judge, jury, and executioner! None of us can!" Other diners turned at the outburst and Marlon glanced around, lowering his voice. "How many slaves did I just kill by making their owners afraid for their own lives, K'lithay?"
K'lithay blinked. She rolled his words over in her mind. The Humans always had a unique view. Not just the immediate, but also, somehow, a medium and long term view all at the same time. He was right. Masters -- OWNERS - would try to protect themselves above all else.
"So, what are you going to do then?"
"I'll find a local place for a few months and see where else I can fit, I guess. The Embassy is always looking for help."
"Don't go there! I think they are raising an army."
Marlon stopped cold, his mug half raised, his face trying to decide between despair and shock. "Errrr.... what?"
"I've heard rumors that the humans who run that place are creating an army so they can start taking ships. That's why you heart about all these stowaways that only contribute for free."
"Uh....huh." Marlon was clearly processing what she'd said. "Man, people really have a knack for getting things half right." Marlon started his human laughing.
K'lithay ruffled her plumage, flustered. "How can you cry and then laugh??"
Marlon slowly stopped laughing over the next moment, and then took another drink. "I have a lot more crying coming, K'lithay," Marlon said, dipping into a sad tone, "But you gave me a little context, and helped brighten my day. Thank you." He got up to leave.
K'lithay looked down and grabbed his credit stick. "Your credit stick, Marlon!"
"Keep it."
K'lithay watched Marlon leave. Once he was out of sight, she reached into her smock and pulled out a notebook. Flipping through the pages, she found her previous note, "Human army?" and slid a line through it with her pen. She clucked, pondering. Why are humans so....human?
She brought her gaze to the credit stick in her hand. The digital funds read out said 1100 credits remaining. Her jaw dropped and she instinctively looked back for Marlon, but didn't see him anywhere.
He couldn't find fault with his need to resign, even now, so he let it be. He looked up to see three Officers of a ship staring slack jawed at a young woman and her....grandfather? Or at least a much older gentleman.
He maneuvered closer to try to hear why a crew was actually talking to a human.
2024.05.10 23:40 Future_Ad_3485 Paranormal Inc. Part Thirteen: Jakal of Despair!
Staring up at the skyscraper standing tall in a sea of eerie fog, lost souls wandered aimlessly back and forth into the revolving door. Wut and Croak shifted uncomfortably behind me, both of them shaking their heads. Massaging my forehead, this had to be the definition of despair.
“Nothing screams loss of hope like a never ending job.” I commented with a huff, both of them raising their weapons at the souls pausing for a minute. “Let’s take down this Jakal person.” Resuming their activity, a pair of violet eyes glittered on the top floor. Joining the souls pouring in, a cold stale lobby greeted me. Taking in the empty ivory desk, the souls poured into offices. Wondering where to go, the answer must lay in a code somewhere. Wut nudged my shoulders, his robes brushing against the top of my feet. Pointing to the flickering light in the elevator, a quiet fear had me stepping back. Elevators scared me, Wut flicking the back of my head.
“There aren’t any stairs.” He pointed out in a huff, Croak shooting daggers from her eyes. “Let’s go.” Dragging the two of us onto the elevator, a rusty door clicked shut. His expression softened at my obvious fear, an apologetic smile lingering on his lips. Nothing needed to be said, the elevator groaning up to the top floor. The door clicked open, a maze of cubicles had our brows cocking at the same with a scoffs of disappointment. Why couldn’t anything simply be one and done? Then again, getting lost in a maze of cubicles did sound depressing as shit. Moving around in front of us, the path changed.
“Have fun suffering in dark despair as I torture you with an endless test.” An icy female voice laughed maniacally, my muscles stiffening. “Only then you can fight me. See you never!” Stepping into the first cubicle, the smell of stale ketchup was on point. Covering up my nose with the hem of my onyx lace skirt, another musty breeze had my scarlet blouse fluttering with my leather jacket. Wut and Croak began to argue next to me, a couple of shadow snakes slithering down my arms. Kicking my dagger out of its case, my eager palm caught it. Keeping them by side, their glowing eyes were seeking out danger. Crashing through twists and turns, a couple of hisses had me skidding to stop. Glancing up, a tall slender goddess with violet eyes appeared over me. Her slicked back silver hair glistened in the flickering office lights, a silver flute hovered by her lips. Horror rounded my eyes, my blade expanding. Smashing my blade into her flute, the darn thing clattering to the cheap carpet. Noting the crack by feet, the maze was set to reset again. Kicking it into the crack, the cubicles shifted around once more. The metal groaned, a rotten scent twirled from the end of the flute. Seeking a way out from the bomb that was going to harm us, a weak point presented itself. Kicking her back into the air, a space big enough for us opened up. Motioning for them to follow, musty air lashed at our cheeks as we crashed through several floors. Hitting a desk, office supplies rolled onto the floor. Dust rained down with pieces of ceiling hitting my face, Wut and Croak crashing onto me. Pushing them off, time wasn’t in our deck of cards. Sitting up with a gruff groan, every muscle screamed in protest. Hopping off the desk, a cafeteria caught my eyes. Leaping over the cubicles, flute music had chills running up my spine. Venomous gas seeped through the cracks, the clear glass walls of the cafeteria would protect us. Jumping over the last one, our boots pounded towards the glass doors. Ripping them open, we skidded into the large sterile room. Locking the doors behind us, that damn fog claimed the rest of the floor. Stacking several tables against the doors, something had to give. Ignoring their protests, something had to cancel out the fog. Croak’s usual nightmares wouldn’t do, my palm pressing against the glass. Flitting between the many objects, a gust of fresh air was what we needed. Several shadow snakes slithered down my arms, their hissing guiding me to a loose tile. Plucking the tile from the floor, a golden flute glinted in the flickering lights. Tucking my blade into my belt, a rush of energy blew my loose strands about the moment I brought it to my lips. Blowing the one song I knew, purified wind flooded from the end. Spinning it in between my fingers, this was our ticket out. Croak bounced onto my back, her chin resting on my head. Feeling her soft gray suit against my skin had me feeling better, her blade grazing my cheek.
“Cool flute, love.” She sang gleefully, plucking it from my fingers. “How you managed across one of three golden flutes bemuses me. Shall I play it for you? The flute happens to be my favorite instrument.” Caving in with a long breath, she flipped off of my back. Landing with a spin, excitement buzzed in her eyes. Bringing the flute to her lips, complex notes flowed magically. My breath hitched at its beauty, the purified wind blasting the glass. Covering myself with my arms, another gust of wind had the shards shooting into the distance. A shrill fuck had us shrinking back, the venom dissolving upon contact with the purified air. Continuing to play, our enemy’s notes were harsh compared to Croak’s gentle notes. Playing louder, Wut and myself sought a way to get closer to this goddess. Assuming that water was her power, the moment they unleashed that side would mean the twins were here. Closing my eyes, two more energies were approaching. Opening my eyes to a concerned Wut, my lips pressed into a thin line. The twins were on their way and we were outnumbered, regret dimming my eyes.
“Scout out the twins’ locations and come back to me. I have a problem to deal with before they get here.” I whispered into his ear, his head nodding once. Sinking into his smoke, my boots pounded towards our target. Dodging a splash of water, my body smashed into the floor. Snatching her ankle, a disconcerting alarm rounded her eyes at me throwing her through several floors. Catching her flute, a strong squeeze had it crumbling to pieces. Whistling for Croak to follow, her hand grabbed mine the moment I jumped into the hole. Using the rebar to slow our descent, the goddesses body twitched on top of a desk, her broken bones beginning to heal. Angling my elbow for her spine, Croak did the same. Striking her spine at full strength, the vertebrates shattered to dust. Unable to move, a ribbon of violet blood poured from her lips. Flipping to our feet, we raised our blades over our heads. Swinging our blades towards her heart, a shrill shriek rattled the building the moment we pierced her heart. Twisting our blades in deeper, her body seized until it decayed to a cloud of dust. Plucking the heart off of the tips of our blades, the organ shriveled into a black ball of tissue. Tucking it into an evidence bag, clues rested in this organ. Croak raised her hand for a high five, my palm smacked hers with a matching crazed grin. One problem was solved, two more were coming our way. The building groaned underneath our boots, Wut swooping in to whisk us out of the crumbling structure. Running on smoke discs, his boots hit the ashy gray dirt. Hiding us behind the thickest tree, the twins came into view in their usual outfits of a pink dress and a white suit. Tapping their blades against their legs, lightning bounced off of their bodies. Wishing that Morte was here, a loud boom had concrete and dust raining down over us. Poking my head around the trunk, a pile of rubble hid their bodies. Something felt off, the twins appearing over our heads. Sparks fluttered in the air with the violent clash of our blades, lightning whipping over our heads. Kicking Salacia in the stomach, her body shot into the sky. Spinning my blade over my head, a swift swing sent her twin in the opposite direction. Wut staggered over to us, a gaping wound stealing my breath away. Turning towards Croak, no words needed to be said. Tossing him over her shoulder, she was gone in a second. Calculating when they would come back down, hollow footsteps echoed behind me. A female version of Wut approached me in black robes, ivory waves floating in the hot air in her neon smoke around her worn boots. Playing with a neon whip, her neon green eyes glowed with adventure. An annoyed sigh poured from my lips, today seeming to be run by Murphy's law.
“I sensed my beloved Wut. Where is he?” She mused with a sly grin, her eyes falling on the twins flying back towards us. “Give him up or die.” Cursing under my breath, time was not on my side. Cracking her whip in my direction, the rubble groaned in protest with my jump back. Gritting my teeth, a low growl rumbled in my throat.
“He works for me by choice. If he wanted to leave your creepy ass because of acts of pure insanity, that isn’t on me. All of that falls on you, sweetheart.” I pointed simply, a snarl twitching on her inky lips. “Not that I have time but let’s handle this.” Charging at her, twirls avoiding her whip with ease. Focusing a bit better, her whip cut my cheek. Narrowing my eyes in direction, her whip deflected my blade. The twins appeared behind her, their blades glinting in the air. Tackling my new enemy to the rubble, two blades sunk into my back. Neon tears slid down her cheeks, the corner of her lips quivering. Blood pooled in my throat, the bastards ripping their blades out of my back. Watching my blood paint their features, small electrical burns dotted my back. Feverish apologies flowed from her lips, my tears splashing onto her face while my blood began to stain her robe.
“Why?” She choked out through a waterfall of tears and sniffles, her trembling hands wiping the corner of my lips. “I was going to kill you.” Shrugging my shoulders, my patience was wearing thin. Struggling to my feet, my knees met the twins’ stomachs. Painting my face with their blood, the burst organs had me chuckling to myself. Kicking their blades away from them, my fingers curled around their throat. Pinning them to the closest trees, every breath felt like hard labor.
“Like hell you are getting away this time.” I threatened starkly between wheezes, their fingers clawing at hands. Another energy swallowed the space in a cloudy darkness, two claws piercing their hearts. Their heads bobbed a couple of times before dropping for the final time, panic twisting my features. Cursing under my breath, they needed help. Ripping them off the claws, a faint pulse had me sighing with relief. Tossing one of them to my new friend, the other one was tossed over my shoulder. Using my sword to find the exit, she took the other one. Whisking them away, an eerie silence came over the dimension. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, a lump forming in my throat at wicked feminine laughter behind me.
“Fine, you can have my puppets but I am going to take over the damn world.” She bragged with a fit of maniacal giggles, the rubble crunching as I spun to face my new nemesis. Inky straight hair floated down to her ankles, her golden dragon eyes watching me tremble in my spot. Golden horns twisted into the sky, golden scales lining her cheeks. Clicking her black claws together, fresh tears cascaded from my eyes. Unable to move, something about her powers had me frozen in my spot. Her fur robes swayed with every circle around me, her inky lips curling into a sneer. Words bounced around my mind, the color draining from my face at a spell keeping my mouth shut.
“I am giving you one chance to join my team. Be the new number one of Stormana’s league of forgotten gods.” She chuckled with a twisted grin, a fire rising in her throat. Gripping my blade desperately, the crunching stopped with her in front of me. Shaking my head, a defiant grin curled on my pale face. Feeling my heart rate pick up, any nerves I had left fled at golden flames undoing my bun. Wincing through the agony of burns on my cheek, her claw traced my body. Bringing her hand back, Croak appeared over her. Shaking my head, Croak refused to listen. Spinning her blade over her head, one of her claws cut off her head. Rolling to my feet, her limp body hit the toe of my boot. The raw agony of losing my friend broke the silence curse, tortured wails exploding from my lips. Unable to fight the depression, no rage could come to my assistance.
“That will keep happening until you join my side.” She warned venomously, pure hatred burning in her eyes as golden flames whisked her away. Sinking to my knees, Croak was already decaying to ash, violent sobs wracking my body. Scooping up her head, my muscles ached as I crawled over to her body. Hugging all of her close to my body, her hand clutched mine. Her eyes fluttered open, her tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Give my heart to Cal and tell him that I love him.” She wheezed with a broken smile, her hand gripping mine tighter as my tears splashed onto her face. “Don’t cry for me. I did it on my own accord, love. I love you, love.” Her hand hit my lap, the rest of her decaying into a pile of ash. A gust of wind blew her into the air, her heart glowed in my palm. Curling into a ball, claws extended from my fingertips. Clutching her heart close to my chest, the dimension glitched out to a busy park in the middle of the day. Shrinking my sword back down to a dagger, my trembling hand shoved it into its case. A crowd gathered around me, none of it mattering. The twins shoved everyone aside, both of them getting everyone to get on with their day. Bowing down to me, their foreheads were pressed to the lush grass.
“We vow to serve you with all the life we have left.” They vowed together, the previous mark shifting to inky snakes around their arms as they sat on their haunches. Saying nothing else, Wut’s face fell at the sight of Croak’s heart. Scooping me up, he tossed me over his shoulder. Too numb to protest, his words faded in and out on the way back to the hearse. Sitting me down in the back, his sharp eyes scanned me over for any more wounds than the obvious ones. Mixing potions while trying to get me to talk, the freak with a whip bowed at my feet. Vowing her allegiance to me, this had Wut written all over it. Hovering her face inches from mine, the burns on my cheek refused to heal into a smooth scar. Crying for a minute, her fingers caught a couple of tears. Rubbing them on my cheek, the angry scars faded to a smooth cheek. Mumbling a dejected thank you, Wut shoving a vial down my throat had it ending swiftly. Ignoring everyone checking me over, the sole thing I could focus on was the heart in my quivering palm. Getting up without a word, I climbed into the driver’s seat. The other’s jumped into the back, my appearance being the most normal one. Fishing around the glove box, an evidence bag fell onto the seat. Sliding her heart into the bag, I placed it onto my lap. Shoving the key in, the silence was deafening. Missing her endless chatter, discreet weeps shook my body the whole ride back. Pulling up to the front, Cal waited with a big smile with my girls and son. Hopping out, I placed my finger on my lips to quiet the others. Motioning for him to come with me, dread bubbled in my gut at what I had to do. The poor guy had lost one wife and now he was losing another love in his life. Walking with him in the garden, his face fell at my obvious tears. Presenting him with Croak’s heart, any composure he had died in seconds. Raising his fist for my face, it stopped inches from my face. Shit, I deserved every ounce of rage heading my way.
“You can hit me. I don’t mind.” I spoke with a dejected smile, bowing my head in shame. “Please hate me for the rest of your l-” Burying me into a bear hug, his tears soaked the top of my head. Hating myself for my failure, his hands cupped my tear drenched face. Smiling kindly in my direction, the sorrow wore on his face.
“If I knew Croak, she chose to try to save you. Thank you for her heart.” He sighed sorrowfully, his hand curling around her heart. “Do you want to see what she wanted me to do with it?” Taking a step back, his black dress shirt fluttered in a gust of cool wind. Holding it in his palms, the organ hardened to a ruby heart. Wonder softened the blow of my sorrow, his hand tucking it into the pocket of his dark jeans. Hugging me one last time, his footfalls echoed hollowly away from me. Morte called for me, the stress becoming too much. Sprinting out of the garden, the brick wall grazed the heel of my boots. Crunching into the woods, branches scratched my cheeks. Running until I couldn’t, a cave had me smiling brokenly to myself. Sliding down the slick gray wall, my hands rested on my knees. Alone, I needed to be alone.
“Hey.” A meek voice called out, Wut’s friend sitting down across from me. “I am Eris, Wut’s girl. Do you want to talk?” Staring dumbly at her glowing eyes, that was a rare question for me to be asked. Croak always asked me what was on my mind, another wave of tears rattling my body. Scooting over to me, her arms pulled me into an awkward embrace. Burying my head into her shoulder, her embrace becoming like the bear hugs Croak used to smother me in. Sobbing harder into her chest, my fingers grasping desperately at her robes. Letting me cry until the moon claimed the sky, her hands cupped my cheeks. Wiping away my tears with her thumbs, her crooked grin was her natural smile. Attempting to smile back, her palm slid to cover my mouth.
“You don’t need to smile when you can’t.” She assured me sweetly, lowering her hand to her lap. “Let the grief course through you. Then you can get revenge for her loss.” Laughing honestly to myself, Eris was amazing in the best way. Popping to her feet, my muscles refused to move. Placing me on her back, the warmth of her flames had exhaustion slapping me in the face. Draping my arms around her neck, the hood of her robe felt soft against my wet cheeks. Carrying me back, Morte thanked her for getting me. Choosing not to berate me, his arms placed me onto his back. Carrying me into the living room, her heart glistened in the center of a worn coffee table. A metal bowl with Celtic markings containing pieces of blessed parchment papers fluttered in the bottom, a piece of paper waiting for me. Smiling to myself, the funeral was rather touching. Sitting me down on the couch, my fingers curled around a raven feather quill. Dipping the tip into the inkwell, the tip couldn’t stop moving. Moving the favorite memories onto the back, tears of joy mixed the sad ones as I folded the paper. Placing my paper on the top, Hel and the others huddled close to me as Cal placed her heart in the center. Pouring his blood over the paper, ruby stained the sea of parchment and ink. Pressing his palms together, his words were dripping with tears.
“Dear Lord, grant her soul an entrance into Heaven. Help her reach the stars she dreamed of touching.” He wept brokenly, struggling to continue to speak. “Do this one for me. If you can’t let her in, give her a generous second chance. Amen.” Golden flames devoured everything, the crystal melting into a sea of sparkling ash. A warm breeze akin to Croak’s love had the ash fluttering out the open window. A pensive smile hung in the air, an alarm in the kitchen caused one of the brothers to rush out of the room. Not one word was spared, the energy in the room brightening at Miles and the girls hugging me from all sides. Kissing them feverishly, Morte plopped down next to me. Clapping his hands, all eyes fell on him.
“How about we tell funny stories with Croak?” He suggested with a gentle smile, the others raising their glasses of wine in honor of Croak. “I think we need to celebrate all that she was.” The twins hovered awkwardly in the doorway, the couch groaning as I leapt over the back. Approaching them with a comforting smile, neither one could look me in the eyes.
“I forgive you. Whatever was driving you guys before doesn’t matter.” I promised them while taking their hands, their tense expressions softening. “Look, the past is water under the bridge. Work bold and true by my side, and you can have true joy in your life. I am pointing out that your marks prevent you from killing anyone in our group. Trust will be found eventually. Please be patient with me.” Flinching as I reached out to embrace them, the years of abuse were apparent. Noticing the soft terror haunting their expressions, the floor announced that I was giving them space.
“If you need to talk about your shitty childhood, I am all ears. Don’t open up if you don’t want to.” I continued with my genuine smile, both twins brightening up a bit. “Your mother was a bitch and if you didn’t kill her I was going to eventually. Thank you for the help.” Ruffling their hair the way Mr. Bone used to do to me, something lit the fire of hope back up into me. If I could bring what was left of the Bone family back together, that damn dragon lady didn’t stand a damn chance. Guiding them to the table, the girls showed off their bunnies. Miles looked glum, my hand waved him over. Walking him up to my bedroom, I presented him with a silver wrapped box. Remember that Croak wrapped it with me, silent tears stained my cheeks. Wrapping paper flew everywhere, his face illuminating at the boy rabbit in blue overalls laying in the bottom of the box. Wiping away my tears before he noticed, his arms draped around my neck. Remembering what Croak spoke once, she always told me to cherish what I had. Kissing the top of his head, his tiny feet bounced down the stairs. The girls joined him in playing, Morte appearing at the bottom of the stairs. Climbing each step with a more broken expression, the wrapping paper crunched underneath him as he plopped down next to me. Pulling me onto his lap, his strong hands buried my face into his shoulder. Another wave of grief had me sobbing harder into his shoulder, the word sleep ringing in my ear. Sinking into a rough slumber, Morte’s humming was the last thing I heard.
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“Nothing screams loss of hope like a never ending job.” I commented with a huff, both of them raising their weapons at the souls pausing for a minute. “Let’s take down this Jakal person.” Resuming their activity, a pair of violet eyes glittered on the top floor. Joining the souls pouring in, a cold stale lobby greeted me. Taking in the empty ivory desk, the souls poured into offices. Wondering where to go, the answer must lay in a code somewhere. Wut nudged my shoulders, his robes brushing against the top of my feet. Pointing to the flickering light in the elevator, a quiet fear had me stepping back. Elevators scared me, Wut flicking the back of my head.
“There aren’t any stairs.” He pointed out in a huff, Croak shooting daggers from her eyes. “Let’s go.” Dragging the two of us onto the elevator, a rusty door clicked shut. His expression softened at my obvious fear, an apologetic smile lingering on his lips. Nothing needed to be said, the elevator groaning up to the top floor. The door clicked open, a maze of cubicles had our brows cocking at the same with a scoffs of disappointment. Why couldn’t anything simply be one and done? Then again, getting lost in a maze of cubicles did sound depressing as shit. Moving around in front of us, the path changed.
“Have fun suffering in dark despair as I torture you with an endless test.” An icy female voice laughed maniacally, my muscles stiffening. “Only then you can fight me. See you never!” Stepping into the first cubicle, the smell of stale ketchup was on point. Covering up my nose with the hem of my onyx lace skirt, another musty breeze had my scarlet blouse fluttering with my leather jacket. Wut and Croak began to argue next to me, a couple of shadow snakes slithering down my arms. Kicking my dagger out of its case, my eager palm caught it. Keeping them by side, their glowing eyes were seeking out danger. Crashing through twists and turns, a couple of hisses had me skidding to stop. Glancing up, a tall slender goddess with violet eyes appeared over me. Her slicked back silver hair glistened in the flickering office lights, a silver flute hovered by her lips. Horror rounded my eyes, my blade expanding. Smashing my blade into her flute, the darn thing clattering to the cheap carpet. Noting the crack by feet, the maze was set to reset again. Kicking it into the crack, the cubicles shifted around once more. The metal groaned, a rotten scent twirled from the end of the flute. Seeking a way out from the bomb that was going to harm us, a weak point presented itself. Kicking her back into the air, a space big enough for us opened up. Motioning for them to follow, musty air lashed at our cheeks as we crashed through several floors. Hitting a desk, office supplies rolled onto the floor. Dust rained down with pieces of ceiling hitting my face, Wut and Croak crashing onto me. Pushing them off, time wasn’t in our deck of cards. Sitting up with a gruff groan, every muscle screamed in protest. Hopping off the desk, a cafeteria caught my eyes. Leaping over the cubicles, flute music had chills running up my spine. Venomous gas seeped through the cracks, the clear glass walls of the cafeteria would protect us. Jumping over the last one, our boots pounded towards the glass doors. Ripping them open, we skidded into the large sterile room. Locking the doors behind us, that damn fog claimed the rest of the floor. Stacking several tables against the doors, something had to give. Ignoring their protests, something had to cancel out the fog. Croak’s usual nightmares wouldn’t do, my palm pressing against the glass. Flitting between the many objects, a gust of fresh air was what we needed. Several shadow snakes slithered down my arms, their hissing guiding me to a loose tile. Plucking the tile from the floor, a golden flute glinted in the flickering lights. Tucking my blade into my belt, a rush of energy blew my loose strands about the moment I brought it to my lips. Blowing the one song I knew, purified wind flooded from the end. Spinning it in between my fingers, this was our ticket out. Croak bounced onto my back, her chin resting on my head. Feeling her soft gray suit against my skin had me feeling better, her blade grazing my cheek.
“Cool flute, love.” She sang gleefully, plucking it from my fingers. “How you managed across one of three golden flutes bemuses me. Shall I play it for you? The flute happens to be my favorite instrument.” Caving in with a long breath, she flipped off of my back. Landing with a spin, excitement buzzed in her eyes. Bringing the flute to her lips, complex notes flowed magically. My breath hitched at its beauty, the purified wind blasting the glass. Covering myself with my arms, another gust of wind had the shards shooting into the distance. A shrill fuck had us shrinking back, the venom dissolving upon contact with the purified air. Continuing to play, our enemy’s notes were harsh compared to Croak’s gentle notes. Playing louder, Wut and myself sought a way to get closer to this goddess. Assuming that water was her power, the moment they unleashed that side would mean the twins were here. Closing my eyes, two more energies were approaching. Opening my eyes to a concerned Wut, my lips pressed into a thin line. The twins were on their way and we were outnumbered, regret dimming my eyes.
“Scout out the twins’ locations and come back to me. I have a problem to deal with before they get here.” I whispered into his ear, his head nodding once. Sinking into his smoke, my boots pounded towards our target. Dodging a splash of water, my body smashed into the floor. Snatching her ankle, a disconcerting alarm rounded her eyes at me throwing her through several floors. Catching her flute, a strong squeeze had it crumbling to pieces. Whistling for Croak to follow, her hand grabbed mine the moment I jumped into the hole. Using the rebar to slow our descent, the goddesses body twitched on top of a desk, her broken bones beginning to heal. Angling my elbow for her spine, Croak did the same. Striking her spine at full strength, the vertebrates shattered to dust. Unable to move, a ribbon of violet blood poured from her lips. Flipping to our feet, we raised our blades over our heads. Swinging our blades towards her heart, a shrill shriek rattled the building the moment we pierced her heart. Twisting our blades in deeper, her body seized until it decayed to a cloud of dust. Plucking the heart off of the tips of our blades, the organ shriveled into a black ball of tissue. Tucking it into an evidence bag, clues rested in this organ. Croak raised her hand for a high five, my palm smacked hers with a matching crazed grin. One problem was solved, two more were coming our way. The building groaned underneath our boots, Wut swooping in to whisk us out of the crumbling structure. Running on smoke discs, his boots hit the ashy gray dirt. Hiding us behind the thickest tree, the twins came into view in their usual outfits of a pink dress and a white suit. Tapping their blades against their legs, lightning bounced off of their bodies. Wishing that Morte was here, a loud boom had concrete and dust raining down over us. Poking my head around the trunk, a pile of rubble hid their bodies. Something felt off, the twins appearing over our heads. Sparks fluttered in the air with the violent clash of our blades, lightning whipping over our heads. Kicking Salacia in the stomach, her body shot into the sky. Spinning my blade over my head, a swift swing sent her twin in the opposite direction. Wut staggered over to us, a gaping wound stealing my breath away. Turning towards Croak, no words needed to be said. Tossing him over her shoulder, she was gone in a second. Calculating when they would come back down, hollow footsteps echoed behind me. A female version of Wut approached me in black robes, ivory waves floating in the hot air in her neon smoke around her worn boots. Playing with a neon whip, her neon green eyes glowed with adventure. An annoyed sigh poured from my lips, today seeming to be run by Murphy's law.
“I sensed my beloved Wut. Where is he?” She mused with a sly grin, her eyes falling on the twins flying back towards us. “Give him up or die.” Cursing under my breath, time was not on my side. Cracking her whip in my direction, the rubble groaned in protest with my jump back. Gritting my teeth, a low growl rumbled in my throat.
“He works for me by choice. If he wanted to leave your creepy ass because of acts of pure insanity, that isn’t on me. All of that falls on you, sweetheart.” I pointed simply, a snarl twitching on her inky lips. “Not that I have time but let’s handle this.” Charging at her, twirls avoiding her whip with ease. Focusing a bit better, her whip cut my cheek. Narrowing my eyes in direction, her whip deflected my blade. The twins appeared behind her, their blades glinting in the air. Tackling my new enemy to the rubble, two blades sunk into my back. Neon tears slid down her cheeks, the corner of her lips quivering. Blood pooled in my throat, the bastards ripping their blades out of my back. Watching my blood paint their features, small electrical burns dotted my back. Feverish apologies flowed from her lips, my tears splashing onto her face while my blood began to stain her robe.
“Why?” She choked out through a waterfall of tears and sniffles, her trembling hands wiping the corner of my lips. “I was going to kill you.” Shrugging my shoulders, my patience was wearing thin. Struggling to my feet, my knees met the twins’ stomachs. Painting my face with their blood, the burst organs had me chuckling to myself. Kicking their blades away from them, my fingers curled around their throat. Pinning them to the closest trees, every breath felt like hard labor.
“Like hell you are getting away this time.” I threatened starkly between wheezes, their fingers clawing at hands. Another energy swallowed the space in a cloudy darkness, two claws piercing their hearts. Their heads bobbed a couple of times before dropping for the final time, panic twisting my features. Cursing under my breath, they needed help. Ripping them off the claws, a faint pulse had me sighing with relief. Tossing one of them to my new friend, the other one was tossed over my shoulder. Using my sword to find the exit, she took the other one. Whisking them away, an eerie silence came over the dimension. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, a lump forming in my throat at wicked feminine laughter behind me.
“Fine, you can have my puppets but I am going to take over the damn world.” She bragged with a fit of maniacal giggles, the rubble crunching as I spun to face my new nemesis. Inky straight hair floated down to her ankles, her golden dragon eyes watching me tremble in my spot. Golden horns twisted into the sky, golden scales lining her cheeks. Clicking her black claws together, fresh tears cascaded from my eyes. Unable to move, something about her powers had me frozen in my spot. Her fur robes swayed with every circle around me, her inky lips curling into a sneer. Words bounced around my mind, the color draining from my face at a spell keeping my mouth shut.
“I am giving you one chance to join my team. Be the new number one of Stormana’s league of forgotten gods.” She chuckled with a twisted grin, a fire rising in her throat. Gripping my blade desperately, the crunching stopped with her in front of me. Shaking my head, a defiant grin curled on my pale face. Feeling my heart rate pick up, any nerves I had left fled at golden flames undoing my bun. Wincing through the agony of burns on my cheek, her claw traced my body. Bringing her hand back, Croak appeared over her. Shaking my head, Croak refused to listen. Spinning her blade over her head, one of her claws cut off her head. Rolling to my feet, her limp body hit the toe of my boot. The raw agony of losing my friend broke the silence curse, tortured wails exploding from my lips. Unable to fight the depression, no rage could come to my assistance.
“That will keep happening until you join my side.” She warned venomously, pure hatred burning in her eyes as golden flames whisked her away. Sinking to my knees, Croak was already decaying to ash, violent sobs wracking my body. Scooping up her head, my muscles ached as I crawled over to her body. Hugging all of her close to my body, her hand clutched mine. Her eyes fluttered open, her tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Give my heart to Cal and tell him that I love him.” She wheezed with a broken smile, her hand gripping mine tighter as my tears splashed onto her face. “Don’t cry for me. I did it on my own accord, love. I love you, love.” Her hand hit my lap, the rest of her decaying into a pile of ash. A gust of wind blew her into the air, her heart glowed in my palm. Curling into a ball, claws extended from my fingertips. Clutching her heart close to my chest, the dimension glitched out to a busy park in the middle of the day. Shrinking my sword back down to a dagger, my trembling hand shoved it into its case. A crowd gathered around me, none of it mattering. The twins shoved everyone aside, both of them getting everyone to get on with their day. Bowing down to me, their foreheads were pressed to the lush grass.
“We vow to serve you with all the life we have left.” They vowed together, the previous mark shifting to inky snakes around their arms as they sat on their haunches. Saying nothing else, Wut’s face fell at the sight of Croak’s heart. Scooping me up, he tossed me over his shoulder. Too numb to protest, his words faded in and out on the way back to the hearse. Sitting me down in the back, his sharp eyes scanned me over for any more wounds than the obvious ones. Mixing potions while trying to get me to talk, the freak with a whip bowed at my feet. Vowing her allegiance to me, this had Wut written all over it. Hovering her face inches from mine, the burns on my cheek refused to heal into a smooth scar. Crying for a minute, her fingers caught a couple of tears. Rubbing them on my cheek, the angry scars faded to a smooth cheek. Mumbling a dejected thank you, Wut shoving a vial down my throat had it ending swiftly. Ignoring everyone checking me over, the sole thing I could focus on was the heart in my quivering palm. Getting up without a word, I climbed into the driver’s seat. The other’s jumped into the back, my appearance being the most normal one. Fishing around the glove box, an evidence bag fell onto the seat. Sliding her heart into the bag, I placed it onto my lap. Shoving the key in, the silence was deafening. Missing her endless chatter, discreet weeps shook my body the whole ride back. Pulling up to the front, Cal waited with a big smile with my girls and son. Hopping out, I placed my finger on my lips to quiet the others. Motioning for him to come with me, dread bubbled in my gut at what I had to do. The poor guy had lost one wife and now he was losing another love in his life. Walking with him in the garden, his face fell at my obvious tears. Presenting him with Croak’s heart, any composure he had died in seconds. Raising his fist for my face, it stopped inches from my face. Shit, I deserved every ounce of rage heading my way.
“You can hit me. I don’t mind.” I spoke with a dejected smile, bowing my head in shame. “Please hate me for the rest of your l-” Burying me into a bear hug, his tears soaked the top of my head. Hating myself for my failure, his hands cupped my tear drenched face. Smiling kindly in my direction, the sorrow wore on his face.
“If I knew Croak, she chose to try to save you. Thank you for her heart.” He sighed sorrowfully, his hand curling around her heart. “Do you want to see what she wanted me to do with it?” Taking a step back, his black dress shirt fluttered in a gust of cool wind. Holding it in his palms, the organ hardened to a ruby heart. Wonder softened the blow of my sorrow, his hand tucking it into the pocket of his dark jeans. Hugging me one last time, his footfalls echoed hollowly away from me. Morte called for me, the stress becoming too much. Sprinting out of the garden, the brick wall grazed the heel of my boots. Crunching into the woods, branches scratched my cheeks. Running until I couldn’t, a cave had me smiling brokenly to myself. Sliding down the slick gray wall, my hands rested on my knees. Alone, I needed to be alone.
“Hey.” A meek voice called out, Wut’s friend sitting down across from me. “I am Eris, Wut’s girl. Do you want to talk?” Staring dumbly at her glowing eyes, that was a rare question for me to be asked. Croak always asked me what was on my mind, another wave of tears rattling my body. Scooting over to me, her arms pulled me into an awkward embrace. Burying my head into her shoulder, her embrace becoming like the bear hugs Croak used to smother me in. Sobbing harder into her chest, my fingers grasping desperately at her robes. Letting me cry until the moon claimed the sky, her hands cupped my cheeks. Wiping away my tears with her thumbs, her crooked grin was her natural smile. Attempting to smile back, her palm slid to cover my mouth.
“You don’t need to smile when you can’t.” She assured me sweetly, lowering her hand to her lap. “Let the grief course through you. Then you can get revenge for her loss.” Laughing honestly to myself, Eris was amazing in the best way. Popping to her feet, my muscles refused to move. Placing me on her back, the warmth of her flames had exhaustion slapping me in the face. Draping my arms around her neck, the hood of her robe felt soft against my wet cheeks. Carrying me back, Morte thanked her for getting me. Choosing not to berate me, his arms placed me onto his back. Carrying me into the living room, her heart glistened in the center of a worn coffee table. A metal bowl with Celtic markings containing pieces of blessed parchment papers fluttered in the bottom, a piece of paper waiting for me. Smiling to myself, the funeral was rather touching. Sitting me down on the couch, my fingers curled around a raven feather quill. Dipping the tip into the inkwell, the tip couldn’t stop moving. Moving the favorite memories onto the back, tears of joy mixed the sad ones as I folded the paper. Placing my paper on the top, Hel and the others huddled close to me as Cal placed her heart in the center. Pouring his blood over the paper, ruby stained the sea of parchment and ink. Pressing his palms together, his words were dripping with tears.
“Dear Lord, grant her soul an entrance into Heaven. Help her reach the stars she dreamed of touching.” He wept brokenly, struggling to continue to speak. “Do this one for me. If you can’t let her in, give her a generous second chance. Amen.” Golden flames devoured everything, the crystal melting into a sea of sparkling ash. A warm breeze akin to Croak’s love had the ash fluttering out the open window. A pensive smile hung in the air, an alarm in the kitchen caused one of the brothers to rush out of the room. Not one word was spared, the energy in the room brightening at Miles and the girls hugging me from all sides. Kissing them feverishly, Morte plopped down next to me. Clapping his hands, all eyes fell on him.
“How about we tell funny stories with Croak?” He suggested with a gentle smile, the others raising their glasses of wine in honor of Croak. “I think we need to celebrate all that she was.” The twins hovered awkwardly in the doorway, the couch groaning as I leapt over the back. Approaching them with a comforting smile, neither one could look me in the eyes.
“I forgive you. Whatever was driving you guys before doesn’t matter.” I promised them while taking their hands, their tense expressions softening. “Look, the past is water under the bridge. Work bold and true by my side, and you can have true joy in your life. I am pointing out that your marks prevent you from killing anyone in our group. Trust will be found eventually. Please be patient with me.” Flinching as I reached out to embrace them, the years of abuse were apparent. Noticing the soft terror haunting their expressions, the floor announced that I was giving them space.
“If you need to talk about your shitty childhood, I am all ears. Don’t open up if you don’t want to.” I continued with my genuine smile, both twins brightening up a bit. “Your mother was a bitch and if you didn’t kill her I was going to eventually. Thank you for the help.” Ruffling their hair the way Mr. Bone used to do to me, something lit the fire of hope back up into me. If I could bring what was left of the Bone family back together, that damn dragon lady didn’t stand a damn chance. Guiding them to the table, the girls showed off their bunnies. Miles looked glum, my hand waved him over. Walking him up to my bedroom, I presented him with a silver wrapped box. Remember that Croak wrapped it with me, silent tears stained my cheeks. Wrapping paper flew everywhere, his face illuminating at the boy rabbit in blue overalls laying in the bottom of the box. Wiping away my tears before he noticed, his arms draped around my neck. Remembering what Croak spoke once, she always told me to cherish what I had. Kissing the top of his head, his tiny feet bounced down the stairs. The girls joined him in playing, Morte appearing at the bottom of the stairs. Climbing each step with a more broken expression, the wrapping paper crunched underneath him as he plopped down next to me. Pulling me onto his lap, his strong hands buried my face into his shoulder. Another wave of grief had me sobbing harder into his shoulder, the word sleep ringing in my ear. Sinking into a rough slumber, Morte’s humming was the last thing I heard.
2024.05.10 11:48 CIAHerpes Something called the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System just flashed across my TV. It read out a list of rules.
My wife, Iris, sat on the couch next to me, holding the bowl of popcorn in her thin hands. On her other side, our little boy, Freddie, sat. He looked just like his mother, with the same dirty blonde hair and faraway eyes, like the eyes of a dreamer. The movie played across our flat-screen TV, some CGI comedy with talking penguins and llamas that could drive cars. It was some garbage from Disney I would never have watched in a million years, but Freddie liked it, so I suffered through it for him.
We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
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We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
- If blood begins to pour under your door, go to a higher floor immediately. Avoid physical contact with the blood at all costs.
- All legitimate military and police personnel will have a special insignia on their helmets and jackets, an eye contained in a double-thumbed fist. Only accompany them if they have this insignia- otherwise, they are imposters.
- Avoid mirrors for the duration of the emergency.”
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
2024.05.09 10:31 CIAHerpes Something called the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System just flashed across my TV. It read out a list of rules.
My wife, Iris, sat on the couch next to me, holding the bowl of popcorn in her thin hands. On her other side, our little boy, Freddie, sat. He looked just like his mother, with the same dirty blonde hair and faraway eyes, like the eyes of a dreamer. The movie played across our flat-screen TV, some CGI comedy with talking penguins and llamas that could drive cars. It was some garbage from Disney I would never have watched in a million years, but Freddie liked it, so I suffered through it for him.
We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
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We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
- If blood begins to pour under your door, go to a higher floor immediately. Avoid physical contact with the blood at all costs.
- All legitimate military and police personnel will have a special insignia on their helmets and jackets, an eye contained in a double-thumbed fist. Only accompany them if they have this insignia- otherwise, they are imposters.
- Avoid mirrors for the duration of the emergency.”
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
2024.05.09 10:31 CIAHerpes Something called the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System just flashed across my TV. It read out a list of rules.
My wife, Iris, sat on the couch next to me, holding the bowl of popcorn in her thin hands. On her other side, our little boy, Freddie, sat. He looked just like his mother, with the same dirty blonde hair and faraway eyes, like the eyes of a dreamer. The movie played across our flat-screen TV, some CGI comedy with talking penguins and llamas that could drive cars. It was some garbage from Disney I would never have watched in a million years, but Freddie liked it, so I suffered through it for him.
We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
submitted by CIAHerpes to LighthouseHorror [link] [comments]
We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
- If blood begins to pour under your door, go to a higher floor immediately. Avoid physical contact with the blood at all costs.
- All legitimate military and police personnel will have a special insignia on their helmets and jackets, an eye contained in a double-thumbed fist. Only accompany them if they have this insignia- otherwise, they are imposters.
- Avoid mirrors for the duration of the emergency.”
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
2024.05.09 10:30 CIAHerpes Something called the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System just flashed across my TV. It read out a list of rules.
My wife, Iris, sat on the couch next to me, holding the bowl of popcorn in her thin hands. On her other side, our little boy, Freddie, sat. He looked just like his mother, with the same dirty blonde hair and faraway eyes, like the eyes of a dreamer. The movie played across our flat-screen TV, some CGI comedy with talking penguins and llamas that could drive cars. It was some garbage from Disney I would never have watched in a million years, but Freddie liked it, so I suffered through it for him.
We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
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We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
- If blood begins to pour under your door, go to a higher floor immediately. Avoid physical contact with the blood at all costs.
- All legitimate military and police personnel will have a special insignia on their helmets and jackets, an eye contained in a double-thumbed fist. Only accompany them if they have this insignia- otherwise, they are imposters.
- Avoid mirrors for the duration of the emergency.”
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
2024.05.08 21:49 CIAHerpes Something called the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System just flashed across my TV. It read out a list of rules.
My wife, Iris, sat on the couch next to me, holding the bowl of popcorn in her thin hands. On her other side, our little boy, Freddie, sat. He looked just like his mother, with the same dirty blonde hair and faraway eyes, like the eyes of a dreamer. The movie played across our flat-screen TV, some CGI comedy with talking penguins and llamas that could drive cars. It was some garbage from Disney I would never have watched in a million years, but Freddie liked it, so I suffered through it for him.
We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
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We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
- If blood begins to pour under your door, go to a higher floor immediately. Avoid physical contact with the blood at all costs.
- All legitimate military and police personnel will have a special insignia on their helmets and jackets, an eye contained in a double-thumbed fist. Only accompany them if they have this insignia- otherwise, they are imposters.
- Avoid mirrors for the duration of the emergency.”
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
2024.05.08 21:49 CIAHerpes Something called the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System just flashed across my TV. It read out a list of rules.
My wife, Iris, sat on the couch next to me, holding the bowl of popcorn in her thin hands. On her other side, our little boy, Freddie, sat. He looked just like his mother, with the same dirty blonde hair and faraway eyes, like the eyes of a dreamer. The movie played across our flat-screen TV, some CGI comedy with talking penguins and llamas that could drive cars. It was some garbage from Disney I would never have watched in a million years, but Freddie liked it, so I suffered through it for him.
We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
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We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
- If blood begins to pour under your door, go to a higher floor immediately. Avoid physical contact with the blood at all costs.
- All legitimate military and police personnel will have a special insignia on their helmets and jackets, an eye contained in a double-thumbed fist. Only accompany them if they have this insignia- otherwise, they are imposters.
- Avoid mirrors for the duration of the emergency.”
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
2024.05.08 21:42 CIAHerpes Something called the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System just flashed across my TV. It read out a list of rules.
My wife, Iris, sat on the couch next to me, holding the bowl of popcorn in her thin hands. On her other side, our little boy, Freddie, sat. He looked just like his mother, with the same dirty blonde hair and faraway eyes, like the eyes of a dreamer. The movie played across our flat-screen TV, some CGI comedy with talking penguins and llamas that could drive cars. It was some garbage from Disney I would never have watched in a million years, but Freddie liked it, so I suffered through it for him.
We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
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We had turned off all the lights in the house for the movie. Only the TV’s flickering colors illuminated the room, sending dancing shadows that flashed out behind us.
Suddenly, outside the living room window, a bolt of lightning came down from the sky, splitting a tree in our front yard in two. Light flooded in through the window as if the flash of a nuclear missile were ripping its way across the town. A crash rang out as the tree split down the middle, its massive branches tumbling down onto the lawn. I jumped as the ground shook. More lightning flashed nearby, hitting other houses and lawns on the street.
“Damn, there wasn’t supposed to be any storms,” I said in surprise. The TV had gone black, and now we sat in darkness. For a long moment, I thought the power had gone out.
Abruptly, it came back on with a roar of white noise and a flickering of static. The volume seemed to be increasing by itself, growing into a rushing cacophony like a waterfall. I saw Iris try to scream something, but I could only see her lips move.
As suddenly as it all started, it stopped. The standard “PLEASE STANDBY” screen with a rainbow of blocky colors behind it appeared. There was a clanging, ringing sound that emanated from the speakers, high-pitched and whining like tinnitus. Then text started appearing across the screen. At the same time, a deep, serious voice spoke in the background, like a radio announcer reporting on the death of a President.
“This is the Demon Emergency Alert Broadcast System,” the voice read grimly. “This is not a test. Level five activity has been reported in your area. Do not go outside. Close all blinds, shutters and windows. Lock all doors and close any attached garages. Do not open your doors except to military or police personnel with the proper insignia. Even if someone appears to be in distress, do not open your door to investigate or try to interfere in any way. A temporary quarantine is in effect for your area. Military and police assistance is on the way.
“To ensure the greatest chances of survival during this time of crisis, please abide by the following rules:
- If blood begins to pour under your door, go to a higher floor immediately. Avoid physical contact with the blood at all costs.
- All legitimate military and police personnel will have a special insignia on their helmets and jackets, an eye contained in a double-thumbed fist. Only accompany them if they have this insignia- otherwise, they are imposters.
- Avoid mirrors for the duration of the emergency.”
“What the fuck?” Iris whispered next to me, taking out her phone and shining the light across the dark living room. “That was pretty weird. Everything looks different outside, too. I was just outside an hour ago and the Moon didn’t look anything like that.” She pointed. I got up, realizing she was right. The nighttime sky outside looked strange. I looked out the front window, seeing the Moon was cast in a fluorescent orange light. The cloudless sky had a dark red glow to it, as if some kind of eerie smog had covered everything. I had seen similar things happen after massive forest fires in the past.
“What happened, Dad?” Freddie asked in his small voice. “Where’s the movie?”
“I think we lost power, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair in a nonchalant manner. I didn’t really believe the emergency broadcast, after all. I figured some teenager had hacked the TV station and decided to play a prank, or perhaps some disgruntled employee had done it on his last day as a kind of “Fuck you” to the station. I had heard of similar things happening before. It was somewhat strange how the power had gone out and the sky had changed, but I felt sure that it could all be logically explained.
Someone shrieked outside. I looked out onto the dark street, seeing the silhouette of someone running frantically down the middle of the street, zigzagging wildly. As the figure got closer, I realized it was a young woman. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She wore a white shirt and khakis. Her clothes were soaked in streams of blood that made the fabric cling to her trembling body. I saw a vicious gash bitten into her left shoulder, a wound so deep that the white bone peeked out through the ragged patches of flesh.
“Help me!” she wailed, her eyes wild and panicked. “Why won’t anyone help me?!” She staggered and fell forward, crying and bleeding all over the road. I was about to run outside to see what was wrong with the young woman when I saw another silhouette creeping up behind her.
It looked like the body of a man, but something was wrong. As he drew closer, I caught a glimpse of the man’s face through the dim light. The left side of it was rotted and decayed, while the right looked muscular and healthy. He wore a black suit that looked like little more than tatters. Pieces of it fell off in ragged strips. I could see his left hand was also decomposing. Whatever kind of sickness it was, it seemed to extend to the whole left side of his body.
The stiff, skeletal leg cracked as he dragged it behind him, silently drawing nearer to the young woman. The living side of his face split into an insane rictus grin as he looked down at her. He carried a blood-stained ax that dragged on the pavement behind him with a harsh, metallic groan.
“Get away from me!” the woman screamed at the abomination, trying to kick at him. But she looked weakened from blood loss, and her attempts were feeble and slow. The man laughed, a sound that rang out like the gurgling of blood. He spat squirming maggots from his mouth onto the dark street below. He knelt down before the gasping woman and gave a low whisper. It carried on the dead, silent air.
“So warm,” he murmured, wiping his dead, putrefying fingers across the streams of blood that spurted from her left shoulder. He stuck an inhumanly long, pointed tongue out of his chattering lips and began to lick the blood off his hands. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stuck the bony, decaying fingers of his left hand into the wound and started pulling at the ragged wound. Blood bubbled out in increasing quantities, covering her body in its wet sheen. The woman jerked, her face turning pale and bloodless. She tried to kick at him, but he only laughed again, gurgling like a man with a slit throat. In horror, I watched him raise the ax above his head. It stood there for a long moment, trembling in his shaking hands like a guillotine blade.
“Please, don’t…” the woman pleaded as he grinned down at her. In a blur, he swung the ax down into her forehead. There was a wet cracking of bone and a ringing of metal. She sat there with her mouth open for what felt like a very long moment. Then, limply, she collapsed to the pavement. A dull thud echoed down the street as her skull smacked the pavement.
Sickened, I closed the blinds on the window and turned away, realizing that Freddie and Iris had been standing right behind me the entire time, watching the horrific display. Freddie was crying quietly into his hands, while Iris looked pale, her green eyes wide and unbelieving. The woman exhaled one last time, a long, drawn-out death gasp, and then everything went silent.
I felt sick and weak. Staggering, I put my hand out against the wall. A wave of nausea rose up my stomach. I ran towards the bathroom, shining the light from my cell phone to light the way. Iris started crying. I heard her frantically try to dial 911 over and over again.
“Dammit, nothing’s working!” she cried. I stumbled into the bathroom and threw up all the popcorn and soda I had consumed that night into the toilet. Covered in sweat, I started wiping my face with toilet paper. I pushed myself up, glancing into the mirror.
A cadaverous version of myself stood there, the dead face showing horror and surprise just like my own. I saw the same high cheekbones, the same shaved head, but in the mirror image, maggots writhed and squirmed in the rancid flesh. I backpedaled into the wall, stuttering something incomprehensible. The reflected image did the same, his lipless mouth opening and closing with silent curses. He wore the same clothes as myself, a black T-shirt and blue jeans, but they were rotted and tattered, as if they had been dug out of a grave.
“What the fuck?” I swore, raising my right hand experimentally. The mirror image did the same, matching every single movement perfectly. At that moment, Iris came running into the bathroom, her soft footsteps thudding gently against the marble floor. I jumped, turning to her.
“There’s someone outside the door,” she whispered, her face pale. I glanced back at the reflection, seeing that the other version was no longer following my movements.
“Watch out!” I cried, but it was too late.
The skull-like face came forward in a blur. His arm shot out towards Iris. The surface of the mirror swirled as if it were made of water when his pale flesh made contact with it. The sharp points of bone of his fingers wrapped around Iris’ neck. Stunned and silent, I watched in horror as he started dragging her into that other world.
“Stop him!” she screamed. “God, make him stop!” I ran forward, grabbing her legs as her head and chest was sucked through. There was a slight popping sound when her body entered the liquid-like surface. I tried to hold on with all of my strength, but whatever abomination was on the other side was strong, stronger than me. His iron grip yanked her out of my hands.
“Dad?” Freddie asked, slinking into the bathroom. His eyes were wide and wild. He looked around, confused. “Where’s Mom? Who’s screaming?” I had to make a decision instantly, I knew. I could either stay with my son, or try to get my wife back. I knew I couldn’t just leave Iris, though. I felt mentally torn. I looked between him and the mirror, my heart quivering with anxiety.
“Freddie, go wait in the living room,” I said. “Hide behind the couch. Don’t answer the door or say anything to anyone, no matter what. I’ll be right back.” I wasn’t sure if I would or not. Before I turned to the mirror, I patted his head. “Remember the rules they read us on the TV.” He nodded, but he was only a seven-year-old boy. How much did he really understand? Hell, how much did I even understand? I hadn’t followed the rules, and now Iris was kidnapped.
I turned back to the mirror, seeing that I had no reflection now. There was no sign of Iris or the rotted corpse with my face, either. Slowly, I walked forward, putting my trembling hand out towards its silvery surface. My fingers went through the mirror as if it were mere air, but I felt something freezing cold ripple around my skin. Pins and needles rushed up my arm. Taking a deep breath in, I pushed myself up on the counter and went all the way through.
***
I fell forward onto the marble surface of the bathroom floor, putting my hands out to break the fall. As I glanced up, I realized how strange everything looked. The world here was in constant motion, as if a fog-like void shimmered over the world. The floor’s surface danced with whorls of shadow. They felt as freezing cold as liquid nitrogen as they passed over my body.
Shivering and hugging myself, I pushed myself up off the floor. The walls and ceilings, too, rippled in the same black currents. I glanced around, seeing the white bathtub filled to the brim with dark blood. It bubbled constantly, as if someone were drowning under its surface. Bloody handprints of all sizes smeared the sides of the tub. The smell of copper grew strong, mixing with the strange smell that emanated from the shadows, a pungent, chemical odor like ammonia.
I passed by the mirror, seeing that here, too, I had no reflection. I felt like a vampire, staring into that blank emptiness. Feeling sick and disoriented, I stumbled forward, afraid to even breathe too loudly. I heard Iris crying and shrieking somewhere nearby.
“Nooo…” she wailed. “Please, stop…” Her voice seemed to be growing fainter and weaker, as if she were being dragged away by a tsunami. I peeked around the corner. Everything looked like nightmarish and strange. The living room looked much longer, stretching out for hundreds of feet. It had the same blue carpet and white walls as the one in my world, but now it was the size of a football stadium. The dark red couch had lengthened to an absurd size, stretching wide enough to fit a hundred people in it. The TV loomed across the room like the screen of a movie theater. It flickered constantly, showing a cacophony of white noise and static interspersed with horrible images: naked corpses with their throats sliced from ear to ear, burning bodies, people falling to their deaths from burning buildings.
But none of that was what made an involuntary gasp of horror rise up my throat. It was the enormous spiderweb spanning the length of the ceiling, fluttering softly in the breeze. In the center of the symmetrical web, I saw Iris, covered in silky thread up to her neck. She was hanging horizontally facing down, her body parallel to the floor. She struggled against the webbing that bound her like steel chains. Her eyes bulged from her head as she stared fixedly at the cadaver approaching her.
Crawling upside-down towards Iris was the monstrous image of myself I had seen in the mirror, but he had transformed into something spidery and eldritch. He skittered along with four arms and four legs now. The emaciated limbs poked out of his tattered rags of clothes, forked and elongated, the skin pale and covered in purple sores and deep gashes. Iris continued to plead and shriek in horror as it drew near. The creature’s chattering fangs and blackened gums approached her neck.
At the penultimate moment, Iris saw me, peeking around the corner of the bathroom. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I thought of trying to scream out, to throw something at the creature, but then what? We would both die, and then who would be left alive to protect Freddie? I didn’t know what to do. These thoughts passed through my head in the space of a single moment as we stared at each other. Her eyes shone with a moment of clarity, even as waves of mortal terror shook her body like a hurricane.
“Save Freddie!” she screamed. “Run! Go, Jack!” The creature noticed her staring at me instantly. He curved his long neck and twisted his spidery limbs, clutching the thick strands of silk with his skeletal limbs. The creature turned to me. He had a face like a skull. His filmy eyes regarded me intently. Silver streams of saliva dripped from his mouth. He gave a wide, insane smile, then turned back to Iris, unhinging his jaw. The pale, dead skin tore with a wet ripping sound. The yellow, sharp points of teeth gleamed darkly in the currents of rippling shadow.
I turned, sprinting back into the darkness of the bathroom as the crunching of bone and the shrieking of my wife followed me out. I had to repress an urge to vomit. With all of the speed I could muster, I staggered forward to the counter, where the mirror sat revealing the image of my house, an image that still lacked my reflection inside. Iris’ pleas and screams rapidly weakened. I heard her choking and gasping. A few moments later, I heard a rapid skittering of many legs approaching the bathroom. I started to pull myself up on the counter to escape this hellish mirror world.
Something creaked in the doorway behind me. I glanced back in fright, seeing the abomination with the eight limbs creeping up behind me. He stood only a few feet away from me now. As my eyes met his white, dead ones, his cadaverous face split into a sickly grin.
***
A wave of adrenaline shook my body. My vision turned white in the darkness. With a pounding heart, I pushed myself up and lunged through the mirror. The eight-limbed abomination with my rotting face gave an insane shriek. I felt a freezing cold hand wrap around my ankle and begin to drag me back.
“No!” I shrieked, trying to kick blindly at the mirror creature’s dead face. “I’ll never go with you! Never!” I smashed my sneaker into his jaw. There was a shattering sound, as if a ceramic vase had been dropped. The chattering of sharp teeth and the shrieking cut off abruptly. Looking back, I saw the corpse’s broken jaw hanging on by only a few shreds of tendons and muscle. The eyes went slack and I felt the grip loosen for the briefest moment. I pushed myself forward and slid through the mirror.
The freezing cold, pins-and-needles sensation returned, running over my body like water. I collapsed head-first onto the sink, rolling onto the floor with a jarring thud. The shrieking of the eight-limbed corpse continued behind me. I saw him trying to force his elongated body through the mirror. The long arms with their sharp fingers reached through, swiping wildly at the air. Before I could escape, one of them came through and cut four deep gashes into my chest. My shirt instantly became soaked in blood as a burning pain ran up my body.
I heard someone pounding at the front door, but in the panic of the moment, I could barely think. As the rest of the cadaverous body tried to push his way through the mirror, I dragged myself out of the bathroom. I slammed the door shut, even as the sounds of breaking and shattering followed me out of the bathroom. Ignoring the pain radiating through my body, I ran over to the couch and began shoving it towards the door.
The door shuddered in its frame. The house and the floor shook as the corpse threw his enormous body into the wood over and over again. Cracks spiderwebbed down the front of it, and I knew it wouldn’t last more than a couple more seconds.
“Freddie!” I screamed, looking around frantically. My heart dropped when I remembered I had told him to hide behind the couch. He was not here, not anywhere in the living room. “Freddie! Where the hell are you?”
“Dad?!” a voice responded from outside. It sounded like Freddie’s voice, but it was eerie, as if his voice had gotten caught between stations on the radio. It sputtered with static. It fell and rose in an ear-splitting scream. “Dad, let me in! Please! They’re going to hurt me!”
I ran to the front door, looking outside, but I saw no sign of Freddie. The sky had changed, though. The Moon had changed from orange to a dark red, the color of a burst blood blister. The rest of the sky was such a dark shade of crimson that it looked almost black. Around my feet, I felt something warm and wet.
“Where are you?” I yelled. “I don’t see…” At that moment, the bathroom door exploded outwards in a shower of nails and splinters, covering my face and body in the debris. The cadaverous face peeked around the corner, as if he were playing hide-and-seek rather than hunting and killing people.
“Fuck!” I swore as I looked down, seeing blood streaming in from under the door. It covered my sneakers up to the tops of the soles as more and more flooded in.
I ran for the stairs as the eight-limbed corpse skittered across the ceiling like a spider. He hung upside-down, the jaw hanging askew on his putrefying skull, the filmy eyes flashing with bloodlust. I was already half-way up the stairs when the corpse jumped down into the lake of blood at the bottom of the stairs. With his elongated, twisted limbs, he began pulling himself towards the first step in a blur, covering his body in the thick, putrid blood that continuously poured in through the bottom of every door.
But something was in the blood, I saw to my horror. I froze in place near the top of the stairs, watching the creature as he struggled to pull himself out of the blood, which was already at knee-height and still rising. There were dark silhouettes slithering through the blood. I saw the head of a black snake peer out at the eight-limbed cadaver. The snake had no eyelids, and its eyes looked as red as the blood it lived in. It wrapped its muscular body around his torso, rising up towards the cadaver’s face. The blood-red eyes met those dead, rotted ones of the corpse as they stared at each other. Then the eldritch snake lunged forward and bit off the corpse’s face.
Other snakes started to rise out of the surface, wrapping around his four legs and slithering up his back. The corpse wailed like a banshee, running blindly into the walls to try to smash the many snakes that suffocated and bit him from all sides. But this only seemed to heighten their hunger and bloodlust.
The sound of shredding flesh and snapping bone followed me as I ran into Freddie’s room and hid. His room was the only one without mirrors in it, I knew, and I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
***
In the thick curtains of shadow, a small voice rang out, terrified and searching.
“Dad? Is that really you?” Freddie asked, hiding behind his chest of toys. I saw his small body, contorted and pale. His little head poked above the lid.
“Freddie! You’re alive!” I cried, running over and hugging him. Tears streamed down my face. “I thought you were outside. I heard you screaming out there.”
“I heard you and Mom yelling outside, too,” Freddie whispered, his small body trembling as I held him. “I got scared and ran up here. I’m sorry, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
“It’s OK. Thank God you did,” I murmured, remembering the lake of blood downstairs and all those strange, black snakes. “Mom isn’t coming, Freddie.” He went silent then and didn’t ask any more questions. A sick, heavy weight covered my heart.
In the darkness, we hid and waited, though I knew not for what. The smell of copper and iron from all the blood downstairs had become overwhelming. After a few minutes of this, I took my phone out and shone it around experimentally.
I saw a thin layer of blood streaming into the room, rising up the stairs like the waves of a tsunami. It covered the hallway’s hardwood floor, a half-inch thick deep already and growing fast. Dark shapes slithered and writhed in it. Small waves pushed the lake of blood towards us, and within seconds, my shoes were submerged in it.
“Dad?” Freddie asked in a panicked voice. “What’s that? There’s things inside of it…” Without thinking, I picked Freddie up and held him above my body.
“We need to get to the attic!” I whispered to him, sprinting through the rising pool of blood with my son in my arms. “Don’t be afraid, Freddie. We’ll make it.” I had nearly reached the hallway where the pull-cord for the attic stairs hung when something wrapped around my feet. I went flying forwards, dropping Freddie in the pool of blood. He was submerged up to his waist instantly. His small body writhed in terror.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, flailing his arms as black snakes circled him like hungry sharks. The one wrapping around my legs continued slithering up my body. A rising sense of horror and panic filled me. At that moment, I knew I was doomed. I only hoped I would see Iris again. Then I noticed spotlights turn on outside, filling the inside of the house with a radiance like the Sun.
All of the windows upstairs suddenly smashed inwards. A spotlight shone through the nearest of them, illuminating me and Freddie in our frantic struggles against the snakes. Men in SWAT gear crawled through the shattered windows. With their gas masks, their faces looked like insects with too many compound eyes.
On their helmets and jackets, I saw a strange symbol: a double-fisted thumb holding a staring, lidless eye. Dozens of them streamed in, shooting the snakes that circled Freddie and me. As the one wrapping around its body slowly wound its way towards my face, one of the black-clad men came up behind it and shot it in the skull. The snake’s body collapsed all around me, its muscles loosening in death. With relief washing over me, I ran to our saviors.
“Get us out of here!” I pleaded. “There’s horrible things happening!” The man nodded in his black military gear, his mask revealing nothing.
“Follow me,” he said dispassionately, starting towards the roof. “You two are the only survivors we’ve found so far. It truly is a miracle anyone’s still alive.” I could only agree silently.
"This must be all over every news channel," I said. The masked man shook his head.
"No one knows about this," he responded. "No one but you two and our group. The media won't say shit. They do what we tell them."
***
I followed the men out onto the roof. Helicopters crisscrossed the skies, illuminating the houses and streets with many bright spotlights. As a helicopter slowly lowered itself down to take Freddie and me away from that pit of nightmares, dropping a rope for us to ascend, I glanced around my town one last time.
Many of the houses were destroyed or burning, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the blood-red sky. Men in full SWAT gear zoomed around the blood flooding the streets in boats, the whirring of the motors echoing like angry hornets. Turning away, I followed Freddie into the helicopter and never returned.
Iris is dead, and Freddie and I have seen enough horrors to scar us for a thousand years. In my heart, I know it is my fault my wife died. I didn’t follow the rules, and she paid the price.
I will hear those dying, panicked screams until my final breath.
2024.05.07 21:50 Voganinn-drgn-3713 HUMAN PRED TRIES REAL VENLIL MEAT!!! LIVE STREAMING AT THIRD CLAW ON: BONNIE AND CLYDE’S NIGHTSIDE ADVENTURES.BLEAT!!!
Memory transcription subject: Zeel, Security Chief of the Red Sands District.
Date [Standardized human time]: June 3 2138
“This can’t be real right?” I hear from over my shoulder. “I mean, it’s got to be, what’s that phrase, click-bait?” I turn around to the young gojid intern watching the holo-screen over my shoulder. I flick my tail with a firm yes. “It has to be, other wise we need to start a murder investigation.” I blink, briefly reflecting that just a year ago I would have said predator attack without one thought that a fellow sapient could be responsible for a back alley stabbing. “B-but that blurred orange blob on the picture!” She replies, spins bristling. “Also fake.” I reassure my assistant. “Don’t worry Bavik. I watched their other videos. It’s just eye catching headlines and dumb kids looking for fame.” I sigh and turn back to the holo-screen watching the counter tick down. “I-I-I guess.” She replies, no less pointy than before. “I mean, a human actually e-e-ea… ingesting a sapient. That’s crazy right?” I can’t help but scoff, the only reason we had to waist our time on this nonsense ‘investigation’ was because of all the concerned phone calls demanding flame throwers and kicked down doors. Not that anyone even knew where on Skalga they actually where.
“What’s crazy is my pup refusing dinner because it smells funny. It did not!” It was Bavik’s turn to scoff. “And how would you know?” She asks, spines lowering as the mood relaxes. “Cheap! Shot!” I retort, holding back an amused bleat. “Look!” she blurts, pointing a claw at the screen.
[Live stream starting: 3… 2… 1…]
The view window opens on a blue painted wall. Scuffling sounds can be heard as the view wobbles and zooms out to reveal a plain wooden table with a metal dome covering a plate while a napkin, fork, knife and microphone sit off to the side.
“Are we rolling?” “Yeah we’re good. Connects a little slow with the anti-location finder but it’s going through.” “How many viewers?” “Uhhhh, three thousand, five hundred and counting.” “Really!??!! That’s great” “Some of these have got to be exterminators ‘Bonnie’ This isn’t a goo-“ “Oh hush, it’ll be fine. Come on! Sit!”
Coming into view from the left, a human of average height, red hair, and portly build wearing a simple beige hoodie, a baseball cap and aviator style sunglasses across his eyes took a seat behind the table. “Alright, introduce yourself!” The human sighs and gives his head a small shake. “Hi, people of the internet. My name is ‘Clyde’.”
He puts up his hands and makes air quotes while saying his name. Shortly after, a foggy grey furred venlil wearing a decoratively torn pink colored jean-jacket with her mop of head fur styled into a mohawk featuring yellow dyed tips while each ear had several clip-on earrings attached. “And I’m ‘Bonnie’!” she says excitedly, repeating the finger gesture while hopping into frame from the right and tossing an arm around the sitting human. “We’re exchange partners, best friends and partners in crime!” Her tail was swishing rapidly, signing happy, excited, good things and watch close in a blur that made things hard to read.
“Tell our viewers what we’re streaming today!” She bleats, jostling ‘Clyde’ who seemed to be trying not to show a toothy grin at his partners enthusiasm.
“Alright, alright. From the duo that brought you First Ever Venlil Skateboarding.” ‘Bonnie’ holds up her other arm, proudly showing off a wrist cast covered in signatures and doodles. “And Drunk Friend Mystery Tattoo” ‘Clyde’ rolls up his right sleeve, showing off what appeared to be either the side profile of a deformed horse or a very unfortunate dossur. ‘Clyde’ tugs down his sleeve and nervously taps his finger on the table. “What’s in store for our audience today ‘Bonnie’?” The venlil girl nearly bounces with glee and grabs the top of the silver metal dome. “Ven-Steak Dinner!” She yanks off the dome. A puff of hot steam clears away to reveal a slab of freshly seared meat with a sprig of parsley on top. “Ugh why is it purple!?” ‘Clyde’ blurts, jumping at the sight before him. “I don’t know, it cooked up that way. The stuff you eat turns brown.” ‘Bonnie’ says with a shrug while tucking a napkin into ‘Clyde’s’ collar.
“C’mon stick to the script.” She whispers taking a seat of her own. “So, ‘Clyde’, why are you eating genuine venlil meat today?” “Because you’re crazy?” ‘Bonnie’ giggles, swats him with her tail and continues, answering her own question.
“Because we are going to prove once and for all that humans are not ravenous beasts and can control their instincts around us poor meek venlil.” ‘Clyde’ rolls his eyes under the sunglasses.
“And that we don’t even have instincts like that. Really, it’s getting kinda racist.” He looks down at the cooked meal before him, lips curling slightly.
“Now, before anyone runs for the exterminator hotline, well those of you that haven’t fainted or run for cover yet, this is actually-“ “ME!!!” ‘Bonnie’ Jumps into her exchange partners lap, arms spreading to present herself. “Yes, you heard it right! That’s me on that plate. Believe it or not viewers, I borrowed a synthesizer from one of the labs that bought freedom for so many. Took my own cell culture and grew my friend here a lovely meal of grade A, free range, yours truly.” ‘Bonnie’ hops down, tail swishing excitedly and fur ruffled with glee. “So, since this is one hundred percent consensual, technically not illegal and ethically sourced, none of you FED loving traditionalists have any right to freak out!” She wags her finger at the camera, a human gesture she had picked up along with the late 2070’s neo-pop skater fashion sense.
“And much to my regret, I owe this, possibly one legit case of predator disease in the entire galaxy, a huge favor.” ‘Clyde’ chimes in while adjusting the napkin in his shirt, before pausing with a confused look on his half-hidden face. “…wait, I thought the tattoo made us ev-“ “Shh, it’s on.” She interrupts, gesturing at the camera with her tail. “All right good citizens of Skalga, you will now bear witness to history’s first documented expert taste test of ven-meat!” ‘Bonnie’ passes the fork to ‘Clyde’ and sits in her chair, practically vibrating with excitement and bearing a slight bloom across her face.
‘Clyde’ takes the utensils and starts to cut off a piece, his expression going worried and the sawing motion of the knife slowing to a stop half through the cut. “It looks like petrol in puddle.” He says with puzzlement. “What do you mean?” “The juice that’s coming out, it’s all shiny and metallic. What did you cook this in?”
“Nothing! Just the auto chef and some vegetable oil like you suggested, didn’t even salt it.” “Yenv- ‘Bonnie’ I don’t think I should eat this.”
“Oh come on, we went through all this effort! Don’t you wanna beat the products for predator channel? They did a fake heart and got over half a million subscribers, the real thing will bury that! Maybe even get us a sponsor!”
‘Clyde’ laughs and nods. “Alright alright.” He finishes cutting through the piece and brings it up to his mouth. The human pauses and sniffs at the shimmering purple seared, orange centered meat, wrinkles his nose and jerks back. “Well, uhm, it has a distinct grease trap aroma, with a hint of, ugh, paint thinner?.” “Is that… good?” She asks, having no context for smells “…No. ‘Bonnie’ I’m not sure this is safe.”
“Oh don’t be such a pup. It’s not like I’m serving you a flying machine.” She replies, playfully jostling her friend.
“That nutjob just wanted attention.” ‘Clyde’ replies defensively. “So do we! Go on, eat me!”
With a grimace, the human puts the piece in his mouth, chews once and immediately groans. “Well? Don’t leave us all in suspense. Are we really the most delicious thing in the galaxy? Are you ravenous for more? Perhaps something fresher? Am I *gasp* in danger?” She says, phoning in a fake fearfulness for the camera. ‘Clyde’, shivers, chews again, and forces himself to swallow. He coughs, pulls a water bottle from under the table to swish and spit into a garbage can beside him. “God, that is the foulest, gamiest thing I ever put in my mouth! UGH!!!” He pushes the plate away and wipes his tongue on the napkin. ‘Bonnie’ leans back in her chair, tail flicking curiosity and the bloom fading. “Really? But.. the arxur keep calling us delicacy.” She glances at the lab grown bit of herself still steaming on the plate. “Arxur don’t know [censored], meat shouldn’t be sour!” He exclaims, hacking a wad of foamy spit into the can again. “Jeeze, you need to lay off the junk food! It’s like you’re pickling yourself.” he scolds, more foamy spittle dribbling down his lips before he can spit again. ‘Bonnie’ whistles and purrs with amusement, offering the sprig of parsley. ‘Clyde’ flicks it away much to her delight. “Well, there you have it viewers, humans don’t even think we taste good. Guess we had nothing to fea-“
‘Clyde’ suddenly gags and claps a hand over his mouth hard. ‘Bonnie’ gasps, her joyful tail wagging coming to a halt as her humans expression turned pale and distraught. “I’m gunna…” ‘Clyde’ suddenly stands, tossing the chair he was sitting in as he bolted out of frame. “PHILLIP?!!” ‘Bonnie’ shouts as she too leaves the room. The camera view suddenly twisting and hurtling towards the floor where it blacks out.
Stream disconnected, standby…
[Memory transcript interrupted, warning, high stress and blood pressure levels detected. Resuming, time elapsed, two hours]
The window suddenly reconnects, showing ‘Clyde’ sitting at the table, cradling the garbage can in his lap, the plate and its contents gone from the room. His face was pasty, sweaty, his sunglasses askew and hat tossed next to the microphone.
“By the great protector!” ‘Bonnie’ bleats from off screen. ‘Clyde’ makes an “Uhh?” in response just before hiccupping and bringing his head over the can. ‘Bonnie’ comes into frame, tail signing reassurances to the camera. ‘Clyde’ relaxes and leans back again, looking rather unhappy. “Well, good news ALL TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND VIEWERS!!! ‘Clyde’ here is totally fine and making a steady recovery.” To which the human gave a shaky thumbs up. “Even better news!” ‘Bonnie’ whistles, tail signaling to fast to read. “Our predator friends CAN’T eat us!” She sidles over to her human and puts a reassuring arm across his slumped shoulders. ‘Clyde’ nods and sits up a little. “So apparently,” he begins after taking a breath, “The chemicals that venlil bodies use to metabolize air and exhale waste gas, the stuff that makes your blood orange like iron makes ours red, is moderately toxic to human biology.” Winded by the explanation, ‘Clyde’ slouches again and sips from the water bottle. “Yeppers! The [no translation available in English] reacts with human stomach acid like vinegar and baking soda, hence the foaming.” There is a brief pause, ‘Bonnie’ glancing at her human and giving a light tail tap to his leg. “Yes, it also causes nausea, vomiting, disorientation, indigestion and a lingering sour taste.” “And yet the arxur have no tummy trouble with any aliens. Why do you think that is ‘Clyde’?” ‘Bonnie’ prompts, her fur puffing excitedly again. “Uhh, if they are anything like monitors and alligators, then the Arxur must have poor taste buds and much tougher stomachs that can probably digest a truck tire. Human in cont ‘hic’ rast have been cooking for almost a million years. It’s far safer bacteria and parasite wise, more efficient for absorbing nutrients and *belch* excuse me.”
“Yes.” ‘Bonnie’ says, taking over the rehearsed lines “And as such they have at an evolutionary level, lost the ability to handle tougher foods like raw meat, bones, roots, bark and anything even slightly expired. So, even against us prey species with our multichambered stomachs and fermenting guts, our hominid friends have comparatively sensitive tummies.” She pats his belly, to which he briefly aims at the can again. ‘Bonnie’ twitches her ears in a concerned way before turning back to the camera.
“So, there you have it Skalgans! We had nothing to fear this whole time. All the running, hiding, mask mandates, exterminator rallies and stressing out was totally pointless. Because…” She drum rolls her paws on the table in dramatic fashion “We’re basically toxic!” “Or there’s something seriously wrong with this one.” ‘Clyde’ chimes in, smiling and giving a slight chuckle at her paw swat retort. “Hey, this means I can get drunk and tattoo you now, right?” “No it does not!” “Course I’ll have to shave you first.” “Ahh, that is not happening!” ‘Bonnie’ blurts, the bloom returning to her face. “Let’s have chat decide. How about it? Follow the link below and donate say… twenty thousand credits to the Thafki rehoming fund and you’ll get to see me ink a naughty word on ‘Bonnie’s’ shaved butt.” ‘Clyde says with a grin, his color starting to come back. Blooming brightly, the venlil growls and whacks the laughing humans arm with her cast and turns toward the camera. “Alright” She says, picking up a remote. “That’s it for the stream, next week we’ll continue our series of vintage Earth TV with… uhh…” “Jackass.” ‘Clyde’ prompts. “Right, we’re going to react to a twentieth century human comedy stunt variety show. It’s all public domain so you can watch live with us. No charge and none of those pesky U.N. restrictions!”
Bonnie and Clyde wave to the audience as the colorful venlil points the remote.
[Stream ended. Have a great paw, friends!]
I put down the holo-pad and rub my bloodshot eyes. What we just watched had my fur puffed, the phones ringing off the hook across several districts and my staff either clamoring to unlock the confiscated exterminator gear, fainted, frozen with dread or chatting rapidly over the outcome of the kids insane experiment. Amazingly, no stampedes where being reported, but the press was still going to have a field day.
After a shaky breath I spin the chair around to face my assistant.
We stare at each other. After a long minute, the bristling gojid quietly says. “Maybe I’m toxic too.” I blink slowly and reply “What’s stunt comedy?” Bavik flicks his ears in ignorance. “We could subscribe and find out?” Turning back to the holo pad, staring at the screen for a moment, I tap the button. Sending the counter up by one. Then throw a few credits at the donation fund. “Crazy kids.” I say with an amused tail flick.
submitted by Voganinn-drgn-3713 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Date [Standardized human time]: June 3 2138
“This can’t be real right?” I hear from over my shoulder. “I mean, it’s got to be, what’s that phrase, click-bait?” I turn around to the young gojid intern watching the holo-screen over my shoulder. I flick my tail with a firm yes. “It has to be, other wise we need to start a murder investigation.” I blink, briefly reflecting that just a year ago I would have said predator attack without one thought that a fellow sapient could be responsible for a back alley stabbing. “B-but that blurred orange blob on the picture!” She replies, spins bristling. “Also fake.” I reassure my assistant. “Don’t worry Bavik. I watched their other videos. It’s just eye catching headlines and dumb kids looking for fame.” I sigh and turn back to the holo-screen watching the counter tick down. “I-I-I guess.” She replies, no less pointy than before. “I mean, a human actually e-e-ea… ingesting a sapient. That’s crazy right?” I can’t help but scoff, the only reason we had to waist our time on this nonsense ‘investigation’ was because of all the concerned phone calls demanding flame throwers and kicked down doors. Not that anyone even knew where on Skalga they actually where.
“What’s crazy is my pup refusing dinner because it smells funny. It did not!” It was Bavik’s turn to scoff. “And how would you know?” She asks, spines lowering as the mood relaxes. “Cheap! Shot!” I retort, holding back an amused bleat. “Look!” she blurts, pointing a claw at the screen.
[Live stream starting: 3… 2… 1…]
The view window opens on a blue painted wall. Scuffling sounds can be heard as the view wobbles and zooms out to reveal a plain wooden table with a metal dome covering a plate while a napkin, fork, knife and microphone sit off to the side.
“Are we rolling?” “Yeah we’re good. Connects a little slow with the anti-location finder but it’s going through.” “How many viewers?” “Uhhhh, three thousand, five hundred and counting.” “Really!??!! That’s great” “Some of these have got to be exterminators ‘Bonnie’ This isn’t a goo-“ “Oh hush, it’ll be fine. Come on! Sit!”
Coming into view from the left, a human of average height, red hair, and portly build wearing a simple beige hoodie, a baseball cap and aviator style sunglasses across his eyes took a seat behind the table. “Alright, introduce yourself!” The human sighs and gives his head a small shake. “Hi, people of the internet. My name is ‘Clyde’.”
He puts up his hands and makes air quotes while saying his name. Shortly after, a foggy grey furred venlil wearing a decoratively torn pink colored jean-jacket with her mop of head fur styled into a mohawk featuring yellow dyed tips while each ear had several clip-on earrings attached. “And I’m ‘Bonnie’!” she says excitedly, repeating the finger gesture while hopping into frame from the right and tossing an arm around the sitting human. “We’re exchange partners, best friends and partners in crime!” Her tail was swishing rapidly, signing happy, excited, good things and watch close in a blur that made things hard to read.
“Tell our viewers what we’re streaming today!” She bleats, jostling ‘Clyde’ who seemed to be trying not to show a toothy grin at his partners enthusiasm.
“Alright, alright. From the duo that brought you First Ever Venlil Skateboarding.” ‘Bonnie’ holds up her other arm, proudly showing off a wrist cast covered in signatures and doodles. “And Drunk Friend Mystery Tattoo” ‘Clyde’ rolls up his right sleeve, showing off what appeared to be either the side profile of a deformed horse or a very unfortunate dossur. ‘Clyde’ tugs down his sleeve and nervously taps his finger on the table. “What’s in store for our audience today ‘Bonnie’?” The venlil girl nearly bounces with glee and grabs the top of the silver metal dome. “Ven-Steak Dinner!” She yanks off the dome. A puff of hot steam clears away to reveal a slab of freshly seared meat with a sprig of parsley on top. “Ugh why is it purple!?” ‘Clyde’ blurts, jumping at the sight before him. “I don’t know, it cooked up that way. The stuff you eat turns brown.” ‘Bonnie’ says with a shrug while tucking a napkin into ‘Clyde’s’ collar.
“C’mon stick to the script.” She whispers taking a seat of her own. “So, ‘Clyde’, why are you eating genuine venlil meat today?” “Because you’re crazy?” ‘Bonnie’ giggles, swats him with her tail and continues, answering her own question.
“Because we are going to prove once and for all that humans are not ravenous beasts and can control their instincts around us poor meek venlil.” ‘Clyde’ rolls his eyes under the sunglasses.
“And that we don’t even have instincts like that. Really, it’s getting kinda racist.” He looks down at the cooked meal before him, lips curling slightly.
“Now, before anyone runs for the exterminator hotline, well those of you that haven’t fainted or run for cover yet, this is actually-“ “ME!!!” ‘Bonnie’ Jumps into her exchange partners lap, arms spreading to present herself. “Yes, you heard it right! That’s me on that plate. Believe it or not viewers, I borrowed a synthesizer from one of the labs that bought freedom for so many. Took my own cell culture and grew my friend here a lovely meal of grade A, free range, yours truly.” ‘Bonnie’ hops down, tail swishing excitedly and fur ruffled with glee. “So, since this is one hundred percent consensual, technically not illegal and ethically sourced, none of you FED loving traditionalists have any right to freak out!” She wags her finger at the camera, a human gesture she had picked up along with the late 2070’s neo-pop skater fashion sense.
“And much to my regret, I owe this, possibly one legit case of predator disease in the entire galaxy, a huge favor.” ‘Clyde’ chimes in while adjusting the napkin in his shirt, before pausing with a confused look on his half-hidden face. “…wait, I thought the tattoo made us ev-“ “Shh, it’s on.” She interrupts, gesturing at the camera with her tail. “All right good citizens of Skalga, you will now bear witness to history’s first documented expert taste test of ven-meat!” ‘Bonnie’ passes the fork to ‘Clyde’ and sits in her chair, practically vibrating with excitement and bearing a slight bloom across her face.
‘Clyde’ takes the utensils and starts to cut off a piece, his expression going worried and the sawing motion of the knife slowing to a stop half through the cut. “It looks like petrol in puddle.” He says with puzzlement. “What do you mean?” “The juice that’s coming out, it’s all shiny and metallic. What did you cook this in?”
“Nothing! Just the auto chef and some vegetable oil like you suggested, didn’t even salt it.” “Yenv- ‘Bonnie’ I don’t think I should eat this.”
“Oh come on, we went through all this effort! Don’t you wanna beat the products for predator channel? They did a fake heart and got over half a million subscribers, the real thing will bury that! Maybe even get us a sponsor!”
‘Clyde’ laughs and nods. “Alright alright.” He finishes cutting through the piece and brings it up to his mouth. The human pauses and sniffs at the shimmering purple seared, orange centered meat, wrinkles his nose and jerks back. “Well, uhm, it has a distinct grease trap aroma, with a hint of, ugh, paint thinner?.” “Is that… good?” She asks, having no context for smells “…No. ‘Bonnie’ I’m not sure this is safe.”
“Oh don’t be such a pup. It’s not like I’m serving you a flying machine.” She replies, playfully jostling her friend.
“That nutjob just wanted attention.” ‘Clyde’ replies defensively. “So do we! Go on, eat me!”
With a grimace, the human puts the piece in his mouth, chews once and immediately groans. “Well? Don’t leave us all in suspense. Are we really the most delicious thing in the galaxy? Are you ravenous for more? Perhaps something fresher? Am I *gasp* in danger?” She says, phoning in a fake fearfulness for the camera. ‘Clyde’, shivers, chews again, and forces himself to swallow. He coughs, pulls a water bottle from under the table to swish and spit into a garbage can beside him. “God, that is the foulest, gamiest thing I ever put in my mouth! UGH!!!” He pushes the plate away and wipes his tongue on the napkin. ‘Bonnie’ leans back in her chair, tail flicking curiosity and the bloom fading. “Really? But.. the arxur keep calling us delicacy.” She glances at the lab grown bit of herself still steaming on the plate. “Arxur don’t know [censored], meat shouldn’t be sour!” He exclaims, hacking a wad of foamy spit into the can again. “Jeeze, you need to lay off the junk food! It’s like you’re pickling yourself.” he scolds, more foamy spittle dribbling down his lips before he can spit again. ‘Bonnie’ whistles and purrs with amusement, offering the sprig of parsley. ‘Clyde’ flicks it away much to her delight. “Well, there you have it viewers, humans don’t even think we taste good. Guess we had nothing to fea-“
‘Clyde’ suddenly gags and claps a hand over his mouth hard. ‘Bonnie’ gasps, her joyful tail wagging coming to a halt as her humans expression turned pale and distraught. “I’m gunna…” ‘Clyde’ suddenly stands, tossing the chair he was sitting in as he bolted out of frame. “PHILLIP?!!” ‘Bonnie’ shouts as she too leaves the room. The camera view suddenly twisting and hurtling towards the floor where it blacks out.
Stream disconnected, standby…
[Memory transcript interrupted, warning, high stress and blood pressure levels detected. Resuming, time elapsed, two hours]
The window suddenly reconnects, showing ‘Clyde’ sitting at the table, cradling the garbage can in his lap, the plate and its contents gone from the room. His face was pasty, sweaty, his sunglasses askew and hat tossed next to the microphone.
“By the great protector!” ‘Bonnie’ bleats from off screen. ‘Clyde’ makes an “Uhh?” in response just before hiccupping and bringing his head over the can. ‘Bonnie’ comes into frame, tail signing reassurances to the camera. ‘Clyde’ relaxes and leans back again, looking rather unhappy. “Well, good news ALL TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND VIEWERS!!! ‘Clyde’ here is totally fine and making a steady recovery.” To which the human gave a shaky thumbs up. “Even better news!” ‘Bonnie’ whistles, tail signaling to fast to read. “Our predator friends CAN’T eat us!” She sidles over to her human and puts a reassuring arm across his slumped shoulders. ‘Clyde’ nods and sits up a little. “So apparently,” he begins after taking a breath, “The chemicals that venlil bodies use to metabolize air and exhale waste gas, the stuff that makes your blood orange like iron makes ours red, is moderately toxic to human biology.” Winded by the explanation, ‘Clyde’ slouches again and sips from the water bottle. “Yeppers! The [no translation available in English] reacts with human stomach acid like vinegar and baking soda, hence the foaming.” There is a brief pause, ‘Bonnie’ glancing at her human and giving a light tail tap to his leg. “Yes, it also causes nausea, vomiting, disorientation, indigestion and a lingering sour taste.” “And yet the arxur have no tummy trouble with any aliens. Why do you think that is ‘Clyde’?” ‘Bonnie’ prompts, her fur puffing excitedly again. “Uhh, if they are anything like monitors and alligators, then the Arxur must have poor taste buds and much tougher stomachs that can probably digest a truck tire. Human in cont ‘hic’ rast have been cooking for almost a million years. It’s far safer bacteria and parasite wise, more efficient for absorbing nutrients and *belch* excuse me.”
“Yes.” ‘Bonnie’ says, taking over the rehearsed lines “And as such they have at an evolutionary level, lost the ability to handle tougher foods like raw meat, bones, roots, bark and anything even slightly expired. So, even against us prey species with our multichambered stomachs and fermenting guts, our hominid friends have comparatively sensitive tummies.” She pats his belly, to which he briefly aims at the can again. ‘Bonnie’ twitches her ears in a concerned way before turning back to the camera.
“So, there you have it Skalgans! We had nothing to fear this whole time. All the running, hiding, mask mandates, exterminator rallies and stressing out was totally pointless. Because…” She drum rolls her paws on the table in dramatic fashion “We’re basically toxic!” “Or there’s something seriously wrong with this one.” ‘Clyde’ chimes in, smiling and giving a slight chuckle at her paw swat retort. “Hey, this means I can get drunk and tattoo you now, right?” “No it does not!” “Course I’ll have to shave you first.” “Ahh, that is not happening!” ‘Bonnie’ blurts, the bloom returning to her face. “Let’s have chat decide. How about it? Follow the link below and donate say… twenty thousand credits to the Thafki rehoming fund and you’ll get to see me ink a naughty word on ‘Bonnie’s’ shaved butt.” ‘Clyde says with a grin, his color starting to come back. Blooming brightly, the venlil growls and whacks the laughing humans arm with her cast and turns toward the camera. “Alright” She says, picking up a remote. “That’s it for the stream, next week we’ll continue our series of vintage Earth TV with… uhh…” “Jackass.” ‘Clyde’ prompts. “Right, we’re going to react to a twentieth century human comedy stunt variety show. It’s all public domain so you can watch live with us. No charge and none of those pesky U.N. restrictions!”
Bonnie and Clyde wave to the audience as the colorful venlil points the remote.
[Stream ended. Have a great paw, friends!]
I put down the holo-pad and rub my bloodshot eyes. What we just watched had my fur puffed, the phones ringing off the hook across several districts and my staff either clamoring to unlock the confiscated exterminator gear, fainted, frozen with dread or chatting rapidly over the outcome of the kids insane experiment. Amazingly, no stampedes where being reported, but the press was still going to have a field day.
After a shaky breath I spin the chair around to face my assistant.
We stare at each other. After a long minute, the bristling gojid quietly says. “Maybe I’m toxic too.” I blink slowly and reply “What’s stunt comedy?” Bavik flicks his ears in ignorance. “We could subscribe and find out?” Turning back to the holo pad, staring at the screen for a moment, I tap the button. Sending the counter up by one. Then throw a few credits at the donation fund. “Crazy kids.” I say with an amused tail flick.