Inspiration to even write Horros came to me in a dream. I can do better than this writing, and I will return to Mist. I thought of this as expanding it into a Mythos, ala Stephen King. Here it is. Written Before Stormwizard AND His Last Day.
Mist
Written by Brandon Markham
The only light that made it’s presence in the silent room was the small lamp that flickered on the hard desk. Earl was always afraid of the dark, and the way bills were these days, he was lucky to have that ancient lamp. But now it flickered, the bulb dying like a flame with no air, and Earl had no money to buy another bulb. Even if he did, he would not-could not anyway. Pelts of water crashed on the roof, accompanied by drums of thunder, with a show of cracking electrical whips. The weather was supposed to be horrible, and a possible flash flood might occur. Earl winced when he was blinded by a near bolt of lightning. So close? He thought to himself. Another flash came behind, and this one did not blind him, but suddenly, a man started pounding on the dirty window. A teal shirt and jeans, the man wore. Earl screamed when he saw the man’s bloodied face and missing teeth. Earl knew he was screaming for help, but found that his feet were locked in place.
Flash.
The man was gone, and so was the light. The darkness spread quickly like a pandemic, consuming Earl in his own personal Hell. The breaker was outside, on the side of the one-story home. Outside…Earl told himself not to worry, that it was just in his head. Just in his head…was that man an apparition of his own imagination? Earl pushed it into the back of his mind, replacing the void with bravery that warmed his body. He used the light the dimmed outside the door as a guide, tripping over clutter in the dark. He slowly opened the door, since opening it up to fast would break it right off the hinges. When he stepped outside, he was suddenly cold and wet, and it seemed to him that the rain and winds changed direction. It seemed that they changed, aiming towards him. The door shut, but not by his hands. The door made such a deafening noise, that Earl could not hear the thunderclaps that stalked.
Flash.
The man in teal and jeans was laying their, with no head. The neck was even off, as if it was chewed off the man, blooded rapidly flowing from that area.
Flash.
A figure in black suddenly stood over the corpse’s body, holding a curved blade attached to a shining rod. His feet were dirtied ivory, and the cloak was tattered and pitch black, one that was almost one with the darkness. The figure’s covered head peered towards Earl, who was trying to turn the knob of the door, hitting the lock over and over. Unfortunately, the knob broke off. There is no hope for you sinner…the thunderous voice fell on Earl, making him scream and writhe on the ground in sheer terror. The figure moved elegantly towards Earl, scythe in the air. Earl writhed, the figure’s voice echoing throughout his head, when, he soon found himself no longer having a body.
Flash.
The body was still writhing, despite Earl’s head not having been attached to it. The figure grabbed Earl’s head, making a trail of blood and the body gave out a hand, on it’s knees and stretching it’s arm out, like a child who wants her toy back. Now it is time for Punishment sinner…now…it is time…
*****
Showing posts with label Horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Horror. Show all posts
Sep 21, 2010
Final Draft of His Last Day
The piece of work you about to read is a piece of mess. It sucks. I wrote this thinking it to be a Horror short story. I really like how I open up; I've been working on the "hook" for months on end, and recently found a new way to do it. It seems that By the middle of the story, I get lax. Also, their is no theme. This story was written BEFORE Stormwizard.
His Last Day
By Brandon Markham
Today’s job was Robert Milton Jr., a sixty-five year old pedophile charged with the murder and rape of a two year old. Ben always loved putting these guys to sleep. The executioner strode down the corridor, the very air permeated with rot and death. Over a hundred of these people Ben condemned, and a hundred more would come before he would die. The thirty year old loved his job. It gave him a reason to kill.
Today was the last day however, He served his time in County, but he would commit another crime to go back. He pushed these thoughts back, pondering how he should kill this person. Should he do it slowly with nail clippers like last time? Nah, that was slow. Ben always loved slow things and thought. It gave him time, and every second he savored it.
Ah…he thought, a wicked smile crept on his pale face. With a dirty and blood soaked hand, he reached in his pocket of his overalls, and produces a mask. It was a medieval thing that mask, one that could always be seen in comics and cartoons. It was black and covered the head; two holes were made to see through the veil. It was also pointed. Yes…the traditional executioners’ mask.
The door in front of him was made of iron. The other side would soon be in blood. He opened it, and an ancient sound crept out as the door was pushed further and further, and he was their.
The man, Robert Milton that is, was blindfolded and naked. He was fat and disgusting, his hair almost seemed like second skin. A yellow puddle was beneath the molded wooden chair he was strapped to. The room was comforting however. All the tools he needed were right on that table. Brass knuckles, knives, screwdrivers, chainsaws…Ben laughed, who uses chainsaws anymore?
He shut the door, Robert turning his head this way and that.
“Who’s there?” He screamed in fear. “Where am I?”
“You’re in County, Robert, you’re in County.” Ben replied
“L-l-l-look…I did nothing wrong! Nothing you hear? Please, just-“
“You’re not getting out” Ben interrupted. He wanted to make this point clear, and it worked. Robert thrashed…or attempted to. His screams were heard throughout, something Ben hated. Screams were music to others, but to him…they were just annoying. He walked over with his butcher knife slowly. Ben enjoyably slashed at Robert’s mouth. In return’ the naked man screamed in gurgling horror, blood filling his mouth, but it did not choke him.
“Please…I’m begging you…please…”Robert pleaded
“How’d she feel? Young and untouched…like a little girl huh? You had ultimate control over her. She feel good right? You feel good knowing that you killed her?”
The blind fold moved upwards, Robert’s eyes has widened
“Uh-what are you talking about?” Robert exclaimed. “I did no such thing!”
Ben laughed. Liars get extra treatment.
“Well then, let’s get something clear: you raped her Robert. You killed her as well. Your own daughter”
“What the fuck are you-gah!” The knife penetrated Robert’s knee and he screamed a scream that that sounded like a sharp squall. The nest penetration went to his ear, but not all the way. Ben was not finished.
“I hate screams…reminds me to much of how I screamed when I was just a runt. Daddy shoulda never came at me like he did. So bear with me’ alright?” Ben walked over towards the stone table and grabbed a pair of p.v.c. cutters. They were like pliers, but a short thin blade replaced the locking part, leaving only the handles. Immediately the cold from the metal was gone. Ben walked back and removed the blindfold, ripping it. He grabbed Robert’s penis and placed it between blade and handle.
“Don’t scream alright?”
Ben squeezed the cutters once; the blade did not touch the penis…yet. Another squeeze cut into the meat, a Robert disobeyed. The next squeeze ended it, Robert’s manhood taken from him.
“Now then…how about those eyes? Jesus always said to cut out your eyes if did adultery. Oh yeah…didn’t he say something about hands?”
The scream rose sharply, and lasted into the night.
* * * * *
The Boss was standing outside the door with a gun. Ben was surprised when he saw this. His joy was stolen. Six hours of nothing but skin peeling, bone pulling, hair pulling, eye plucking, and finally decapitation through his torso was all stolen with that gun. The Boss shot, was Ben faltered.
“What the…what the…hell…” Ben trailed as the puddle of blood was being formed. The Boss, with his ebony face and graying hair answered.
“You know not to kill anyone innocent Ben, so I should be the one asking that question.”
“Uh-what are you talking about?” Robert exclaimed in memory. “I did no such thing!”
Shit…Ben thought. Before he drifted of to his death, there was Robert. His final moments were enjoyable, though he did tell the truth. In fact, Ben knew that Robert did not commit such a crime. Things were so slow around County, even for Robert. He laughed in the face of death in the end. Also, for the fun of it, he let out a weak scream
His Last Day
By Brandon Markham
Today’s job was Robert Milton Jr., a sixty-five year old pedophile charged with the murder and rape of a two year old. Ben always loved putting these guys to sleep. The executioner strode down the corridor, the very air permeated with rot and death. Over a hundred of these people Ben condemned, and a hundred more would come before he would die. The thirty year old loved his job. It gave him a reason to kill.
Today was the last day however, He served his time in County, but he would commit another crime to go back. He pushed these thoughts back, pondering how he should kill this person. Should he do it slowly with nail clippers like last time? Nah, that was slow. Ben always loved slow things and thought. It gave him time, and every second he savored it.
Ah…he thought, a wicked smile crept on his pale face. With a dirty and blood soaked hand, he reached in his pocket of his overalls, and produces a mask. It was a medieval thing that mask, one that could always be seen in comics and cartoons. It was black and covered the head; two holes were made to see through the veil. It was also pointed. Yes…the traditional executioners’ mask.
The door in front of him was made of iron. The other side would soon be in blood. He opened it, and an ancient sound crept out as the door was pushed further and further, and he was their.
The man, Robert Milton that is, was blindfolded and naked. He was fat and disgusting, his hair almost seemed like second skin. A yellow puddle was beneath the molded wooden chair he was strapped to. The room was comforting however. All the tools he needed were right on that table. Brass knuckles, knives, screwdrivers, chainsaws…Ben laughed, who uses chainsaws anymore?
He shut the door, Robert turning his head this way and that.
“Who’s there?” He screamed in fear. “Where am I?”
“You’re in County, Robert, you’re in County.” Ben replied
“L-l-l-look…I did nothing wrong! Nothing you hear? Please, just-“
“You’re not getting out” Ben interrupted. He wanted to make this point clear, and it worked. Robert thrashed…or attempted to. His screams were heard throughout, something Ben hated. Screams were music to others, but to him…they were just annoying. He walked over with his butcher knife slowly. Ben enjoyably slashed at Robert’s mouth. In return’ the naked man screamed in gurgling horror, blood filling his mouth, but it did not choke him.
“Please…I’m begging you…please…”Robert pleaded
“How’d she feel? Young and untouched…like a little girl huh? You had ultimate control over her. She feel good right? You feel good knowing that you killed her?”
The blind fold moved upwards, Robert’s eyes has widened
“Uh-what are you talking about?” Robert exclaimed. “I did no such thing!”
Ben laughed. Liars get extra treatment.
“Well then, let’s get something clear: you raped her Robert. You killed her as well. Your own daughter”
“What the fuck are you-gah!” The knife penetrated Robert’s knee and he screamed a scream that that sounded like a sharp squall. The nest penetration went to his ear, but not all the way. Ben was not finished.
“I hate screams…reminds me to much of how I screamed when I was just a runt. Daddy shoulda never came at me like he did. So bear with me’ alright?” Ben walked over towards the stone table and grabbed a pair of p.v.c. cutters. They were like pliers, but a short thin blade replaced the locking part, leaving only the handles. Immediately the cold from the metal was gone. Ben walked back and removed the blindfold, ripping it. He grabbed Robert’s penis and placed it between blade and handle.
“Don’t scream alright?”
Ben squeezed the cutters once; the blade did not touch the penis…yet. Another squeeze cut into the meat, a Robert disobeyed. The next squeeze ended it, Robert’s manhood taken from him.
“Now then…how about those eyes? Jesus always said to cut out your eyes if did adultery. Oh yeah…didn’t he say something about hands?”
The scream rose sharply, and lasted into the night.
* * * * *
The Boss was standing outside the door with a gun. Ben was surprised when he saw this. His joy was stolen. Six hours of nothing but skin peeling, bone pulling, hair pulling, eye plucking, and finally decapitation through his torso was all stolen with that gun. The Boss shot, was Ben faltered.
“What the…what the…hell…” Ben trailed as the puddle of blood was being formed. The Boss, with his ebony face and graying hair answered.
“You know not to kill anyone innocent Ben, so I should be the one asking that question.”
“Uh-what are you talking about?” Robert exclaimed in memory. “I did no such thing!”
Shit…Ben thought. Before he drifted of to his death, there was Robert. His final moments were enjoyable, though he did tell the truth. In fact, Ben knew that Robert did not commit such a crime. Things were so slow around County, even for Robert. He laughed in the face of death in the end. Also, for the fun of it, he let out a weak scream
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)