It Lurks

I’m not afraid of the dark. I fear what lingers inside of it, what uses the night to cloak itself from our eyes. Usually you get over this fear when you are a child, but I never did. I saw what was behind that veil that we call darkness, it lurks in the shadows and waits. It wants to maim, and harm, but not kill. Killing you would be too merciful. It wants you to suffer the consequences of it’s actions. It will never take responsibility for what it did, it will hide behind you. Use you as a shield, and blame you for what its done. It will destroy you without hesitation, fast or slow is its decision. It loves the pain that you’re in, it feeds off of negative emotion. It thrives off of pain. It loves to see you fail. You cant escape, it will tether itself to you. Where you go, it goes. What you see, it sees. It knows you, it knows your family, it knows everyone and everything you do.

It is a part of you. A parasite that entered a wound of yours long ago, an infection that never heals. A sickness that cannot be cured by any healer or doctor anywhere. Its always there, looming over you. Looking over your shoulder at everything that you do. Injecting fear, anger, and misery into your veins. Ripping your heart out of your chest, only to put it back again, but more broken than it was before. It sucks away your will to live, and to fight for what you believe in. It takes you away from yourself. The crippling fear preventing you from fighting back. It will be the end of you. You can try to stop it, but it will never let you win.

Original Work by P.H.

March: Part 2

I have so little time left. I have cut out all of the toxic people from my life, all of the people who I thought were my friends but never really were. My parents just want me to do the testing that the doctors are suggesting, I don’t want that to be the rest of my life. Needles, tubes, and monitors reminding me that I am running out of time faster and faster every day. I walk through the city every day; I look at all of the beautiful things that I missed. All of the things that I was just too busy to look at before. All of this graffiti under the bridges is more beautiful than most things seen in art museums. There is a beautiful mural of an Indian, he is wearing a handsome feather headdress and there is an eagle on his shoulder. He is also gazing up at a picture of the moon, he is so graceful and diligent looking. He is beautiful.

It has been a long few weeks. I can’t walk anymore, my legs gave out and my parents took me to the hospital. I have been refusing to sign their papers for testing for several weeks, but I am losing my hands and arms as well. I fear that this is it. I have scheduled a meeting with my doctors for this evening, I am going to sign the waiver for them to start testing on me. I have to sacrifice my freedom to buy some more time. Hopefully this will cure me, and I won’t have given up for nothing.

The testing is painful, lots of needles. Lots of skin samples. Lots of loud beeping monitors. The room smells of sterilized instruments and hospital food; they have a drip of solution to an I.V. in my arm. The dull pain is slowly driving me mad but I can move less and less by the day, I am trapped here. These white walls and sterilized environment is my prison, god help me.

I can barely move. This treatment isn’t working. So much pain. All of these needles, the scars om my arm from them wont heal. My legs are thin and frail from lack of muscle, and I sit here for hours waiting for death. The doctors say that soon I will be comatose. All of the other patients are fine, what is wrong with me? Nothing is working. I just hope that they don’t try to save me after I’m gone.

Everything is fading, I am so tired. I am having trouble keeping my eyes open. I have so little energy, my life is slowly disappearing before me. They said it would be like this. They said they will put me on life support and continue testing. Why won’t they leave me alone? I am ready. Let me sleep, let me be in peace at last. Let me leave this place. This is the end. This is my end.

Original Work by P.H.

March: Part 1

The cold on my legs caused goosebumps to form across my skin. My thin, tight jeans didn’t provide much protection from the cold. Spring would be soon, the flowers would bloom, the trees green again. Though, I wouldn’t experience it the same as everyone else. I had been diagnosed with a strange illness. I didn’t bother to remember the name, basically I had developed paralysis. The doctors say that before mid-June I will be completely paralyzed. I will have no feeling in any of my body, I won’t be able to move. I will be a prisoner. My family says that we will try anything to make me better, the doctors keep reassuring them that they will try everything they can. Though I know the truth, it’s all an act. One of the nurses pulled me aside and told me there are no known cures for my condition, I would be a guinea pig in some experiments. Poked, prodded, and injected with whatever they think will work. My parents agreed to sign waivers for me to be used as a test subject. These next few months could be my last free ones, and I don’t want to be somebody’s science experiment.

I refused to sign any papers. My parents were shocked that I didn’t comply, I didn’t want to be a lab rat for the last months of my life, I wanted to be free. I wanted to travel, to see all of the amazing things that people talk about on their death beds. The Grand Canyon, the jungle, the Taj Mahal, going snorkeling in Hawaii.

I walked along the sidewalk and listened to the few birds left in the neighborhood chirp, it’s far too cold for any bugs or other animals, but the birds stay. They could come and go as they pleased, but they stayed. Damned fools. If only they knew to run as fast as they could, get out of here before it was too late. If I had wings like them, I’d fly my ass right out of here, and never look back. Everyone talks about the seven stages of grief when hearing news like this, but nobody talks about the numbness. The sheer shock of it all, somehow you feel less than before. Everyone around you goes through the stages, and you just sit and watch. People often mistake this for depression, but it’s just numb.

My hands keep getting shakier, I’m afraid that soon I will not be able to use them. My body goes numb sometimes and I fear that it is the end, that I am trapped sooner than I expected. I am still free for now. I have been going to the park and looking at the art, it’s beautiful. I am thinking about starting to paint but with the way I have been deteriorating I doubt that my work will get anywhere. Every day my muscles are less and less cooperative, I feel my cage building itself up around me. The freedom is slowly leaving me, soon I will be as much as a statue.

This is a two-part story, part two should be published by the end of march.

Original Work by P.H.

January

January, the cold engulfed me in a gust of icy wind. I shivered as I stepped out into the snow covered grass, the cabin has a fireplace and stays warm enough for me to not wear a sweater if I don’t want to. I gripped the flashlight in my hand harder trying to find some kind of warmth in it to no avail. I had to get more firewood to cook the canned soup I have in the cupboard, the shed had enough to last me a few months or so. I trudged through the snow over to the large shed that held the firewood and coal, I opened the heavy door and stepped inside while I turned on my flashlight.

Something rustled towards the back of the room, squirrels. It wasn’t uncommon for some of them to take shelter in the woodshed during the harsh winters here. I ignored the sound and rummaged through the pieces of wood scattered around the floor. I grabbed a few pieces and hugged them to my chest, I heard the rustling again. It was coming towards me, usually they stay as far away as they can get especially in a confined space such as this one. I turned around and shone my light over the wood in hopes to scare away the tiny stalker on my heels. I swear I saw something move but it definitely was not a squirrel. I froze in place waiting for more of a glimpse of it, it was still as the circle of light shook with my hand. I started to step backwards towards the door, but tripped over a piece of wood. Of course I thought my clumsy ass tripping as some weird creature that might kill me is a few feet away from me. I lifted the light back up to where it was before and that’s when I saw it.

It looked like a disfigured furby, its limbs long and skinny. You could see every contour of every bone underneath it’s disgusting, scarred skin. Spots of it’s skin were rotten off exposing the bloody bone and tissue underneath. Then the stench hit me, you couldn’t just see its flesh rotting from its bones you could smell it. It opened its mouth to hiss at me and I saw its yellow, broken teeth decaying and in the same state as the rest of its figure. As it hissed small droplets of spit were forced out with the air, some landing on my feet. I stood up without taking my light off of the creature, it lunged at me arms out trying to grab onto me. It wasn’t more than 3 feet tall, but it moved fast. I ran out the door and slammed it behind me before it could get out, it kept trying to break down the door but it couldn’t being the size that it was. I didn’t have a lock on the shed doors so I held the door shut until I thought it was safe, I started to run to the safety of my cabin but it got out of the door. It was faster than me and before I could run more than a few feet the creature attached itself to my leg. It clawed through my snow pants and jeans and its claws ripped through the flesh of my leg. I yelled in agony and tried to kick it off but it was anchored to my leg. It clawed and clawed at my leg ripping it apart like a paper shredder.

I tried to crawl back to my cabin the pain was too much, it just kept clawing and it was moving up my body. It jumped to my abdomen and clawed again, I couldn’t breathe. My intestine were soon lying in front of me, out of my body turning the snow red. The it clawed out one of my lungs from under my rib cage. I tried to breathe but I couldn’t. It all hurt so badly, I couldn’t do anything. I looked on as it took a bite of my liver, then tossed it. It kept taking out my organs and taking one bite, deciding that they weren’t good, then tossing them aside to try another. It ripped open my chest and finally it took my heart. It took a bite, and then dug in to the rest. I died, so much shock and pain. I couldn’t bear it, but finally I was free.

Original work by P.H.

Boom

This is up a little bit late, it was meant for the end of October but I only finished it recently and decided to post it. Enjoy!

 

I have many enemies, but I never thought it would come to this. All the things that I’ve done to those people, for no reason, they hadn’t done anything to me. My many clients told me that they had done awful things. Some of my clientele lied to make me punish their targets worse, I can always tell when people are lying. If they wanted me to do something I normally don’t I charge extra. I was never caught, and for the longest time I thought my job had no consequences. How very wrong I was, it is taking its toll on me.

The man had kidnapped me while I was walking down an alley in the afternoon, the sun had started to turn a bright yellowy orange. My converse were quiet against the concrete, it had rained so there were small splashes when I stepped. The air still smelled like rain. It felt good to breathe it in, this town needed some rain. I was halfway between the brick buildings when I felt someone watching me, he wasted no time in snatching me up and pulling me back into the shadows. I tried to fight back, but my small body was no match. I heard the clink if metal and turned my head enough to see his dog tags hanging around his neck, army I thought silently. I saved my breath and didn’t bother screaming, he had his large muscular hand over the bottom portion of my face. At least he’s letting me breathe. I fought his grip as much as I could for the better part of what I assumed to be about 15 minutes, then I gave up.

“You killed my wife, I was in Afghanistan.” He said harshly in a deep and angry voice. One of my clients had mentioned a target’s husband being stationed in Afghanistan. They failed to mention that he could find me, I should have been more careful. He continued, “My newborn is missing, you’re going to tell me where he is.” Newborn? The client never mentioned a newborn, and there wasn’t a newborn in the house when I was fulfilling my client’s orders. “His mother was dead, and he was alone.” I furrowed my brow, and he must have noticed. His face contorted with anger. “That’s why you took him, and hid him somewhere. You’re a thief and a murderer!” he tightened his grip on my shoulders, making me wince in pain. He zip-tied my hands behind my back and pushed me along in front of him, forcing me to walk. “Quiet or I’ll snap your neck.” I obeyed and he walked me to his car. It was a beat up old Honda that I didn’t know the name of. He closed the door and got into the driver’s seat, I wasn’t nervous until now. This guy knew what he was doing and wasn’t afraid of the consequences. I started to sweat in fear of what might happen to me, there was no escape.

 

We drove for a while, there were no clocks so I had no way of telling time other than the sun on the road. The sunset was a bright red, and the clouds were in a beautiful swirl pattern. I enjoyed the sunset as much as possible, somehow I knew it was my last. We arrived at a metal warehouse in the middle of the desert soon after. He got me out of the car and walked me into the large metal building, the door was metal as well. The large metal structure was dark, there weren’t any visible windows from where we walked in. there was a large wall that divided the room into two, it only went to about halfway in between the walls and the other half was open to the rest of the warehouse. We walked in and behind the wall there was one small window next to a single chair with rope and a green duffle bag on the floor, the window faced into the forest that lay behind the warehouse. It was dark and a light breeze was making the tall pine trees sway gently.

He pushed me into the chair and tied me to it so I couldn’t move. “Look,” I paused as he looked over to me while unzipping the duffle. “I don’t have your son, he wasn’t even in the house when I was there… there weren’t any things for a baby either, no crib, no toys or a room for him. He was gone before I got there.” I waited for an answer but he was silent as he pulled a large object out of the bag, I couldn’t see what it was because of the immense darkness engulfing the rest of the warehouse. His phone rang and he stood up, he walked back out the door and I heard muffled speech. I couldn’t make out what he was saying and pulled on the rope that held me in my chair. It was no use, I was going to die here. He walked back in the door and I decided to try again. “Please let me help you find him, I know how to find people. Please let me go so that I can help!” I pleaded, my eyes widened as he turned to me with the mysterious object in hand. “ I know you don’t have him, my buddy got him out of there before you could get to him. But that still leaves us with one more problem. You killed my wife.”

He walked behind me and started to attach the mechanism to my chair and I heard quiet beeps. He stood up and walked to the duffle bag, he zipped it and picked it up and turned to me. “I just strapped a bomb to your chair, I made it myself. It’s a pretty nasty one, you won’t survive I made sure of that. And you should feel the shrapnel pierce your skin and organs before you die. It will go off soon so I’m going to get out of here.” Then he turned and started walking toward the door. “ Wait, please! I can help! I’ll tell you who payed me to kill her! Please let me go!” he payed no attention to me and left. I struggled against the rope for the next few minutes, it didn’t budge. I started crying, this was the end. After all this fighting I was going to die.

A few more minutes passed by and the beeping stopped… I froze, I didn’t move or breathe. The beeping was fast and then it was over. The bomb was loud, and he was right. I felt the shrapnel pierce through my skull and into my brain. Then I was scattered across the floor in a charred bloody mess, the warehouse was exploded as well. He chose his location well, nobody heard. No one drove by, in fact nobody ever found my body, or what was left of it. My story wasn’t particularly interesting, but for some it might be. I died so young. I was soon forgotten by everyone who ever knew me, and with that I didn’t exist anymore. Well, at least I went out with a bang, right?

Original Work by P.H.

Turkey Day

Thanksgiving 1997, as usual the Stevinson family was preparing dinner for later that night. Although it was not much, Mr. Stevinson had lost his job and his oldest child was still only 7 years old. Their mother had just gotten out of rehabilitation, she was an addict but she had recovered at the center for a few months before coming home to be a mother again. She hadn’t thought it would be so hard to be a housewife after all she had been though, it was so mundane compared to her old life.

The Stevinsons had decided that the children were in the way, this meal was made very special. It was just for the children, the turkey had shards of glass. The mashed potatoes were laced with ricin, a very fatal amount as well. They sat around the dining room table and called the kids downstairs, Mrs. Stevinson had been cooking for hours and Mr. Stevinson had prepared the shed for the aftermath. The children rustled and ran down the stairs with excitement, little did they know their demise would meet them very soon.

The children ran downstairs with excitement, turned to the kitchen, and sat in their places at the table for what would be their last time. Their parents smiled, Mr. Stevinson said prayer and wished them all a good meal and a safe trip. The children didn’t know what he was talking about but they assumed it was for their vacation in a few weeks, though what he really meant was a safe trip to heaven. He said dig in and they did, their parents smiled as they started to eat their last meal. The oldest was choking on the turkey with the shards of glass slicing his throat. The youngest was turning blue and going into convulsions on the floor. Their parents smiled at each other and said their goodbyes to the kids, and then they were gone.

Nobody really knows what happened to the Stevinson children, some say their parents cooked and ate them before fleeing the state and starting a new life, others say their father chopped them up and threw the chunks in the river. The bodies were never found, but their vengeful spirits walk the globe in search of revenge. No matter how far they run, they will be found and killed by the children they murdered. Maybe they already were. And after they get revenge, who knows who will be next.

Original work by P.H.

Monster in my Mind

It only comes out at the worst times, it has many different forms. Every last one of them terrifying. It knows all of your darkest secrets. Nothing is sacred, every vile thing it can do to you is fair game. The paranoia, the anxiety, the depressing truth of the world is all revealed by this creature. It claws at your soul, shoots your hopes down with every bit of ammunition it can muster. You’re left helpless in the demonic tornado of hate.

You beg it to stop and it just laughs in your face. It only exists for one specific purpose: to ruin you. It spends every second tearing at your brain, slicing it up and mixing everything around. It jumbles your memories, makes you confused, and scared. Nothing you can do will stop it. 

The darkness closes in slowly, day by day it inches its way in. Digging deep into your soul, until every last speck of light is gone. The light at the end of the tunnel gets dimmer, and eventually its gone. Anything you try is useless and you feel distant, like you’re outside of yourself. Then that’s the end. Everything fades away until there is none of you left for it to destroy. It feeds off of you, and when it dies… you die with it.