June 8, 2013

The Mistake

I sat at the edge of the mattress, staring at the clock. It's 4 am. She got off work at 10. I sat there staring at the clock and can't process what is happening. I called her phone again. Straight to voice mail. I vented my frustration into the phone and hung up. For the tenth time tonight. I wandered back outside to the front walkway and lit a cigarette. 

She's getting high. That must be it, she wouldn't cheat on me. Not my baby. It must be those evil drugs. I wandered around the apartment, dreading that the actual baby was going to wake up soon. No sleep at all the night before and a two year old. Thanks. Yet another reason to call and allow myself to vent on the voice mail that would never be checked. 

The first day went by and I'm a goddamn basket case. Worried sick because I loved her, pissed that she just bombed out and anxious because I had no idea how to be a single parent if she didn't come back. I fell apart. But there was the baby. I offloaded her onto relatives as much as I could and just sat by myself and sulked. Always watching the phone or the clock or the clock on the phone. 

The second day was worse. She called in the morning. It was horrible. She lied and told me she'd be home in the afternoon. We argued, she insulted my manhood and i called her a crack whore. My parents came over for a bit, to show support. They took me to the store. I ended up puking in a bathroom stall. I said something stupid about buying her flowers and my mom almost slapped the hell out of me. We went back to the apartment. Around 10 pm or so it became clear she wasn't coming back and I received a call from a friend who saw her that day. They inform me of what she had been doing. It gave me something to focus on the rest of the night and morning.

The next day went by as badly as the others, a buddy got me out for a minute, smoked me out. I get him to drive through the area she was seen in, looking for her car. I don't see anything but there's a house that nags at me, why I don't know. I think she might be there.

The next day. I finally got an hour of sleep for the first time in over 36 hours. I woke up at 5 am when I thought I heard a key in the lock. I did. For the apartment next door. The baby got up around 7, I got her dressed and we walked 2 miles to my parents. I left her there and took their van back to my apartment. I stopped and bought a bag of weed on the way. I felt it was warranted. I got home and called some assistance programs and finally got to talk to someone. The phone went dead. Fuck. Forgot the shut off was today. She was supposed to pay it but apparently didn't. I took a shower and since the Internet still worked I started getting numbers for lawyers. Figuring they would probably be useful very soon.I made my way back to my parents and as I walked in the door I heard my mom say "He just walked in, hold on." and I knew. I answered and get a sad story. None was needed.

I went to pick her up and of course she's standing in front of the house from the day before. She wore clothes I'd never seen before. A light skirt and thin top. When she hugged me she reeked of sex. I ignore it. As I pulled away I saw powder on the rim of her nostril. I ignored it. We drove back to our apartment in silence.


Crimes of passion
There's truth in that
We burned bright
We burned hot
We fucked
We fought
You lied
I raged
You schemed
I caved
You went too far
I snapped your neck

2 AM Surprise

He wakes up and the room is black. He reaches towards where the coffee table should be and grabs his phone. It's 2:30 in the morning. Then he notices the hard on.

She had mentioned sex earlier as they got high. He wasn't feeling it right then though and turned it down. Now, he wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and fuck her. He grabbed a Newport and lighter from the pack his phone rested on and lit it. He hit the cigarette two times then put it out.

He went upstairs where she was sleeping in a thong and t shirt. He decides to go for it. Slides into bed behind her, hard on pressing firmly against her ass, and begins kissing her back and neck. He slides his hands over her smooth legs as he kisses her. His hard on begins to hurt. She wakes up and begins kissing him. He takes this as yes, slides her thong to the side and penetrates her.

Ten minutes later he pulls out, finishes on her ass and goes back to sleep downstairs.

November 15, 2011

Those Innocent Eyes

         Rain and blood pooled together at his feet as Ray reminisced over his evening with the beautiful girl and her innocent eyes. He had found her almost by accident as she traveled through the restaurant parking lot asking for a ride. She had a scared look in her eyes as she approached him, a look that begged a white knight to come and save her from whatever she was trying to escape. Ray was perfectly happy to play that white knight. At least for as long as it would take. She meekly asked him if he could let her tag along to wherever he was going, her face arched down barely making any eye contact. He slowly reached out his hand and offered it to her as he agreed to take her away from there. Tears built up in the corners of her eyes as he motioned to his black Chevrolet Blazer. As they both entered the vehicle Ray glanced over at the young woman in time to see her eyes shift, from a worried sorrowful look to bright and hope filled. As he started the vehicle, the girl slid comfortably into her seat.
            “What’s your name sweetheart?” Ray asked the girl as the Blazer pulled out onto the highway.
 “Annie.” The girl replied as she stared out the window at the dark and vacant highway. Ray hoped to entice Annie into some form of conversation in an attempt to keep her calm and comfortable.
“What about family? You got any?” He asked, and all she said in return was “Assholes. All of them.”
Ray figured that Annie was a runaway, probably sixteen or so. Ray moved on to a new subject. “Well then, how about school Annie? You go to one?”
Annie perked up a bit “Yeah. I want to be a nurse so I have to go to school.”
“A nurse huh?” he asked.  “Yeah I want to help sick people, but who wants to go to school for like ten years to be a doctor? I can be a nurse with just a few years of college.” Annie says as she stares blankly out of the passenger side window.
“I can’t argue with that except to point out the larger paycheck a doc gets.” Ray said as he reached into the vehicles center console fishing for a pack of cigarettes.
“That’s after years of paying off massive amounts of student loan money though. Not for me.” The girl said.
“Right.” He agreed as he lit a cigarette. “You smoke?” he asked her. “Only sometimes.” She said as she motioned him to pass the cigarette.
            A half hour into the trip Ray began daydreaming about his plans for Annie. He was so excited about it that he had to resist the urge to tell her. He wanted to share his happiness with Annie, to see if she would agree. However, he knew instinctively that she would not so he sat there with fantasies filling his mind. A few minutes later, he noticed that Annie was talking but Ray was so wrapped up in his own little world, his dream that he had actually drowned her out with his own thoughts.  Snapping back to the real world just in time to realize she was still rambling about being a nurse Ray chose to ignore her further. It would not be too much longer before Ray’s dreams would all come true.
            Ray’s family owned a mill that sat roughly thirty miles from the diner where he had picked Annie up. The mill had been in Ray’s family for close to a hundred years and had employed many of the local families. That was until Ray’s dad decided to close it down in the mid-seventies. The place was still owned by Ray but the building itself was rotted from decades of abuse from the elements and absolutely no maintenance. This allowed Ray to use the place for his nocturnal activities. A large decomposing building that has been completely abandoned except for the occasional woodland creature or flock of birds taking up residence.
            As he slowed down to find the gravel road leading to the rusted gate surrounding the mill property ray asked, “You mind if we stop here? I own this place down the way and there was supposed to be some work done there today but this is the first time I’ve been able to check it out.” Annie moved uncomfortably in her seat then replied “sure. I don’t mind.” The plan was going to work; Ray was going to have this girl. A slight bulge began to stick out of his jeans. The blazer pulled onto the road the crunching sound of tires on gravel filled the vehicle. Ray began smiling a wide Cheshire smile that Annie noticed immediately, causing her to hug the passenger door a little. Ray noticed this and pushed the gas pedal a bit harder, eager to get started.
            The blazer pulled up to the rusted gate. Annie could see parts of the building from here and it became clear very quickly that nobody was doing any work here, other than maybe tearing the decrepit old thing down. It immediately struck Annie that she had gotten herself caught up in a cliché old horror movie set up, a young girl alone with a creepy guy in the middle of nowhere. Less than an hour ago, Annie was so full of hope but now she was full of panic and terror.
            Ray turned off the vehicle and pocketed the keys. He tried to reassure the terrified girl that everything would be okay and everything was fine but the look in her eyes told him all he needed to know. The girl did not believe him and planned to run. This presented a problem because Ray had to exit the vehicle to unlatch the gate and he knew for sure that Annie would try to run away as soon as he did. The choice before Ray was the gate or the girl, so he tried once more to calm her down. As ray attempted to reassure the girl, lightning streaked across the black sky, followed by a massive thunderclap. That is when Annie made her move, quickly exiting the blazer running in the opposite direction from the gate. Ray debated just running the girl over and finding a new friend but decided to deal with Annie. As Ray jumped out of the Blazer to run after the girl the rain began coming down, hard and fast.
            Annie ran down the dark gravel road slipping and sliding in the mud, fighting not to fall down. Ray was less than eight yards behind her thankful that he had worn his boots tonight. “Why run Annie? I swear I have no intentions of hurting you.” He called out, trying one last time to get her to reason with him. “Fuck you creeper!” She yelled and continued running. Less than four feet behind her Ray pushed himself a little harder in an attempt to close the gap. His knees ached from the effort, but he managed to keep going until his fingers were less from her hair. He jumped with his step and grabbed a handful of it. The shock of him reaching her caused the girl to stumble for the briefest of moments. This was all Ray needed. He yanked back on her hair with his right hand while grabbing the collar of her blouse with his left before using a foot to forcefully push on Annie’s ankle. She slipped in the mud and began to descend, Ray stopping her before she dragged him down too. He then dragged her back in the direction of the gate. “Stupid bitch. It didn’t have to be this way.” His voice filled with frustration.
            When they reached the gate, he stopped and looked at the girl. She was weeping and mumbling, hardly coherent. Ray shoved down into the mud with as much force as he had and promptly sat down on her chest. “It really didn’t have to go this way. I had such hopes for us, the fun we should have had. I only wanted to let you feel my love.” He ranted as he placed his hands around her throat. The man squeezed just enough to cut off her airflow without crushing her windpipe. He wanted her unconscious. He knew the rest would come later.
            Ray unlocked the gate when he finished with Annie then threw the unconscious girl into the back of his SUV and drove onto the vacant property. He pulled down the gravel road a half-mile until he reached a clearing surrounded by trees on three opposing sides. He threw the vehicle into park and promptly jumped out, light headed from the exhilaration of what he planned to do. Ray opened the rear hatch, yanked Annie out brutally and dumped her into the mud. He retrieved a small red metal toolbox from a compartment under the interior paneling. He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the clearing. Annie began coming to while she was dragged. It took her a few seconds to remember her ordeal then she let out a blood-curdling scream. Ray dropped her on the spot, kicked her in the face and then set the toolbox on the ground next to them. “Gonna love this part baby. I guarantee it.” He kicked her one more time, in the side of head this time. She was sobbing uncontrollably as he reached into the toolbox and pulled out two items, a ball peen hammer and a hunting knife. The previous hour replayed in Annie’s mind as she cursed herself for being here with him. Ray stopped and stared at Annie for a moment, transfixed by those same eyes that had caught his attention in the first place. They still shone through with innocence, with just the right mix of terror. 
“Such a waste. Oh well, at least I’ll keep the eyes.” He sighed as he walked towards her, the hammer raised up in the air. “Please no.” was all Annie said as her world went black.
The End

March 12, 2011

New World in My View -- Finished

The planks on the porch squeak every time they shift their weight. Combined with the constant moans it’s enough to drive a man insane. In addition, the stink, the stink is horrible. Anyone still alive who ever took the time to wonder how bad two-week-old corpses stink definitely needs to come down here and smell the yard. There’s about ten of those things sitting outside waiting for something to eat to come walking out of this place. Unfortunately for them that’s just not going to happen. There is roughly a two-month’ supply of food for one person here along with enough water for three months. Realistically there is no reason to leave. Let them all rot while waiting for something that’s never coming. It’s a shame that the family couldn’t come, but with them all being gobbled up it’s understandable.

Time appears to move slower when by yourself. It moves so slowly in fact that it becomes almost tangible. That’s the cruel reality of time, when you need more it just whips right by you but when you have an overabundance of it well it just stops for a moment and laughs at you. The creaks from the porch are becoming less frequent. They have gone from twenty a second to roughly ten. The moaning hasn’t disappeared. If there was a gun handy, that could be taken care of. The noise would probably call more of them though. There was an emergency broadcast on the short wave radio last night. The military has been decimated by the infected, just as local police were two and a half weeks ago. Welcome to the end of the world.

It’s hard not to miss her touch. When lying awake at night listening to the moaning and creaking it’s reassuring to imagine her here, to feel her, to smell her. The sun came out for a while today. It was a beautiful sight after a week of rain. Too bad it was only visible as it peeked in through the wooden planks on the windows. It would feel good to stand in the sun again.

The temperature in Ohio drops too early. Last night the temperature dropped to fifteen degrees Fahrenheit inside the house. It’s sometime in the middle of October. The creaks have decreased even more. The moans still have not stopped. It has been two weeks since the military pulled out of the major cities. The numbers outside along the tree line have begun to swell. Soon enough they will find the porch, and add their noises to the symphony outside. The supply of food and water is maintaining at a better than expected rate. Being alone can be stressful but at least it allows for conservation. Thinking about what the world will be like when these things rot away, although there’s no guarantee that anyone else is left.

The moans have overtaken the creaking planks. They have the house surrounded now. All they do is stand there moaning, not one has attempted to come inside. Found an axe in the basement this morning. It is reassuring to have protection at last. The barricades should hold if they attack the house but it never hurts to be overly prepared. The yard is fuller than it was a few days ago. These things appear to migrate to potential food and then wait for it. Before the world ended, hopefully a scientist examined that. It’s damn odd.

Being alone for a month and a half only works if there’s no ever increasing moaning. They never stop only increase in number. The conversations in the mirror have been utterly enlightening. He talked about her and her horrible fate. The word coward was said many times.

There was some nasty business with a piece of broken glass and the mirror man this morning but everything is cleaned up now. In a just world, she and the others would have been able to come and everyone would be safe. However, this has been proven a wicked and unjust world. The axe sits by the back door waiting for one of them to make a move, to try anything, but that never happens. The wind appears to be carrying moans from other places. The moans have replaced all human sounds. There has been no traffic in weeks, not one single car. The internet has been gone for what feel s like forever. There hasn’t been any message over the short wave. It appears that the world belongs to them.

There was a gunshot in the distance last night. A number of them have moved off into the forest in search of the noise. The moans have not decreased however. The creaking porch has gotten louder but there are still no signs of attempted forced entry. The water is beginning to run low but the food supply is maintaining. The task of collecting rainwater should be easy. There was a virus shortly before the world fell to pieces. Those who were truly lucky died of the disease. Those who were cursed died of the disease then came back. The damned did not contract or die of the disease. No, these pathetic people were instead subjected to the horrors of being eaten by friends, family and all manner of acquaintances. Those that haven’t been eaten yet are merely stalling. What they need that time for though, well that’s anyone’s guess. It was said that the world was a lonely place before it was eaten. If only those who created such a simple outlook could see the world now.

There were human voices outside last night. They were debating on how best to disarm the defenses of the house to squat here. This will not be allowed or encouraged. Thankfully, they did destroy the things on the porch. There is no creaking today. The moaning has lessened too. If the humans stay outside for another day, it should take care of the thing problem. If the humans try to gain entry though, the axe by the door will be used.

They broke through a window barricade on the second floor. They were especially loud coming in. It was nothing to sneak up the stairs with the axe. The rest of the endeavor made too much noise. One of the men is dead and the other is being detained in the basement. There appears to be a small rat infestation down there. The things outside might know the rats are down there. The rational thought is to let the rats eat the guy then eat the rats. Those men didn’t have to try to gain entry, they could have just moved along and gotten eaten by those things. The rats at least can serve a purpose. Surviving is the only thing to be concerned with in this new world.

The porch is beginning to strain under the weight of so many of them. The creaking sound has become one with the moaning. The man in the cellar died from malnourishment this morning. The rats wasted no time before beginning to eat. The food stocks are running low. There should be about a week before the rats will be a concern. The open window on the second floor has proven to be useful in attaining rainwater. The mirror has stopped responding. The image inside just stares now, silent as the dead. Well as silent as the dead used to be. The tree line around the house is swarming with them. The porch will probably give way tomorrow.

The porch collapsed around what was probably noon. There’s about twenty of them lying in a pile of snapped two by fours and concrete. They haven’t moved but they maintain that maddening moan. The rats in the basement are getting fat. The food is still running dangerously low. The water supply should refill after tonight’s rain. The mirror was taken down. If the man refuses to converse then what use is he? No use at all. The other man’s body is still in the attic and it’s beginning to stink. Something will need to be done about that.

There are also rats in the attic. The other man is far more ate up than his counterpart in the basement. The rats up there are also far larger. The hunt should be satisfying, something to focus on in those long hours upon hours of being alone. The family would have loved it here; she would have loved it here, regardless of what the mirror man said.

The rats in the attic are crafty survivalists. After hours hunting them there is nothing to show for it. The attic looks like a warzone now. In addition, there were personal injuries. At least it provided a diversion from the moaning. The prayers to God for a gun go unanswered yet again. It’s probably a symptom of insanity to pray to a deity that was proven to probably not exist about three months ago. The act itself was reassuring at the time. The food supply is almost gone. The water supply has been adequately refilled. Those rats will die tomorrow.

Memory is a tricky thing. For instance, there is a memory that once the world was sane and they didn’t exist. However, to be honest that world seems like a fantasy, a dream. There’s always some sensation missing from the recollection of that world, sometimes it is lacking taste, color, and sound. The disturbing part is the inability to remember what’s missing even though there’s a clear memory of something supposed to be there. Except for the memories of her, they always come perfectly clear. If the family was here they could help, they could fill in the blanks. However, the family isn’t here. Well they might be, in the belly of a few of the new neighbors. One can never tell.

Five rats died for the greater good today. Two died for food and the other three died because they got in the way. Murder, even of small creatures, is surreally liberating. Taking their little necks in your hand and twisting. It’s so easy to do. Too bad it’s not so easy to do to them. The moans have increased even more. There is nowhere to go in the house to block them out now. They are all still just standing out there, even the pile in the porch heap hasn’t moved. The air has gotten colder; the rains are going to stop soon. There will be snow.

For some reason more of them are appearing in the yard now. There has been no activity that would draw them to this place. It would be good to know how they detect food. It would be good to know many things. It would also be good to have a gun. There were flurries in the sky today.

The temperature dropped at least three degrees afterwards. The house is hooked to the city natural gas utility, which means no heat. The pipes have been empty for months so there will be no need to worry about them freezing. Going to eat the second rat tonight. The first one tasted better with salt.

Even though the sun and the moon continue with their cruel charade it is clear that time has stopped. The seconds, minutes and hours of a day have become utterly pointless. The food is gone and only the rats remain.

Today a car pulled up. The driver of the vehicle spotted the open window with the bowls for rainwater collection. He decided to attempt to run to and up the side of the house. The poor fool made it only a few feet before they attacked. It has been a long time since there’s been an opportunity to see it. It’s amazing how synchronized they are when it comes to eating. The rest of the time, they just stand there and moan. As the last several months have proven. However, once there’s a food source standing there they pounce as one. It’s magnificent in a grotesque way.

A blizzard is raging outside. The house has no ambient heat available. In Akron, snow usually means that it is December. Apparently, there is still some minor use for time. The man in the mirror smiled today. It was not a good smile.

The house is trapped under piles of freezing snow. They can be heard crunching around and moaning outside. It was reported at one point that they would conceivably freeze in the winter. Either it hasn’t gotten cold enough outside yet or the man who said that was just an idiot. A gun would still be a useful accessory. The axe sits by the door waiting for the horde that will never come.

The man with the car had a gun. They swarmed him before he could remove it from its holster. It is visible from the window but there appears to be no way to obtain it without going outside. The snow is also beginning to freeze. A direct run and grab is out of the question because of the noise. There might be a way to get the gun without dying.

A rat was brave enough to venture upstairs in search of food today. He was a tasty critter. The predicament with the gun has presented no options outside of a suicide run. It’s beginning to seem like a good idea. It might be feasible to climb down from the open window and then retrieve the gun. Supplies will be needed.

There was rope in the basement. The rats down there have become especially fat, since they ate the man down to the skeleton. The thought of one of those plump buggers all grilled up, yum! The plan is to go sometime tonight out the window and down to the ground. From there totally depends on how they react, hopefully it shouldn’t be too hard to retrieve the gun.

That was insane. After scaling the side of the house and landing on the ground a small group of them decided to investigate. Luckily, there was enough foresight to bring the axe. The trip back up the wall was harder than it should have been. Exercise is sorely needed. There is now a loaded glock 9mm in the house. It feels good having it here.

The man in the mirror spoke today. This is good since it cuts on the loneliness. What he had to say however was horrible. The glock was brought into play, and he promptly backed down. He hasn’t smiled since the last time either.

The man in the mirror spoke again today. That was the last time he ever will. Shards of glass sit outside the open window on top of piles of fresh snow. One of them has been staring at his reflection for hours now. Resisting the urge to use the gun and thin out the herd.

The moans. Why do they moan all the time, nonstop? Can anyone who may be left in the world answer that question? It’s enough to drive a rational man insane. Of course, not all men were rational to begin with. Caught two more rats last night. Ate one, storing the other one for later.

Thoughts of the family have been frequent lately. It helps to block out the constant moans. It has been snowing for two days straight. It’s so cold in here that all the water has frozen. So thirsty.

The reality of freezing to death or simply dying of dehydration has become clear. With no alternative options short of indoor fires and drinking rat blood or urine there seems to be no sanitary and safe way to exist in this house. When time stops and laughs at you it's never the right time.

The moans have increased. It appears that they know food is inside. They seem to be moving around more now. The ones in the caved in porch have begun standing back up. There are enough outside now that running away is no longer an option. There is no chance of making it to the car. The house is cold. Burned some stuff last night, small fires should be safe enough.

She came in a dream. She said to stop trying to survive. She said the end was near and this would all be over soon. Living without her is worse than death. They appear to be moving closer to the house. The gun has nine bullets and there’s the axe. If they attack the house, it is not going to end well.

They just stand there encircling the house moaning. It appears to be January. Happy New Year, however late that may be. There is nothing small left to build a fire with, going to have to begin breaking apart furniture. Hunted rats last night, caught six, have them lying against a window to freeze them. Homemade refrigeration. Dreaming of her every night now. She talks constantly about ending it and joining the family. It’s damn hard not to agree with her.

Would eating a bullet be so bad? It’s hard not to imagine that the rule about offing yourself and going to hell has been suspended in light of recent events. So if that is true, why not do it? Probably millions already did it. Join the cool kids. They’re all doing it.

She begged for the end last night. The moans interrupted her. They have gotten loud enough to pierce dreams. Is surviving worth this torture? Broke apart the children’s beds yesterday. There should be ample firewood now.

There was a snowstorm last night. The wind blew so hard that several planks came off the windows. This allowed even more moans to penetrate the house. It was hard to resist the urge to use the 9mm.

There’s movement outside and lots of it. They are moving around more, tightening the circle around the house. More join them every day. There is a very real chance that something horrible is about to happen, in the next couple of days.

The banging began before the sun was out. Bangs and moans now fill the house like the sound of children laughing and playing once did. It is probably a wise choice to abandon the downstairs completely and live entirely on the second floor. The loss of the basement rats will hurt the food supply but the attic rats should compensate at least until spring finally arrives. The staircase will have to be destroyed.

The front door caved in following the burning of the staircase. The smell of the burning wood must have excited them somehow. They have infested the entire bottom floor. The moans are everywhere. The gun looks beautiful in its simplicity as a means of escape. The urge to use the gun is getting harder to resist with each day. If there had been a way to save the family things would be better.

It’s hard. It’s very hard not to put the gun to an eye or in the mouth and pull the trigger. It’s also hard not to stand at the top of the staircase and shoot a few of these things before I join the family. She has been in every dream for the last week, constantly begging and pleading. There’s only a handful of rats left in the attic, apparently they sense what’s in the house and are leaving. The temperature is lower than the limited amount of heat available can counter. It hasn’t rained in over a month and the ice is taking too long to melt. The room at the end of the hall that’s been a latrine is overflowing with waste. The smell almost overtakes the smell of the dead downstairs.

The sun hasn’t come out in weeks. The sky has been a constant grey. It only makes things worse. It’s always easier to cope with a horrible situation on a sunny day. The mirror in the girl’s room reveals an image of a bearded white skeleton with greying brown hair. The only way this can end is with a sacrifice. Whether that’s the things downstairs or the man in the mirror is up to fate but someone has to die in the end.

The rats have run away. The threat of starvation is present more than ever. Severing a leg should provide meat for a few days but it’s probably prudent to wait as long as possible before resorting to that. The things downstairs keep moving around and moaning. If there were ever need for an explosive right now would be it. The boy would have loved that. He appeared with her last night by the way. It was not a happy reunion. He knows where the blame for their deaths truly rests.

A fire spread out last night during a dream. It was taken care of easily, it will be important to be more careful in the future.

The things downstairs are crowded together at the bottom of the stairs. They want what’s up here. If they got it, would it really be a fate worse than death?

The plan is to stand at the top of the stairs and shoot some of them. Before the world ended, they were advising people to shoot these things in the head on the nightly news. There were even advisories on how to dispose of their corpses properly. The knowledge should prove useful in this current endeavor. The moaning, the smell, the hunger and the constant dreams of her are taking their toll. This has to end soon.

A headshot is harder to make with a handgun than one would think. Nine bullets were in the gun, now there’s three and one of them dead. They are all at the bottom of the stairs now. The sounds of this mornings failed skeet shoot drew them all there. The moans are frenzied now. They’re all reaching out. Their ability to climb should be amusing to see.

Sitting here thinking about death. Not the undead mockery in the kitchen but the real thing. If heaven and hell were or are indeed real what’s their take on all of this and why allow it to happen.

Today will be the day. If one jumps into a pit of them does that still count as suicide? It will be nice to see her and the kids again if not.

December 5, 2010

A Strangers Tale

Hello. I would like to tell you my story. My name does not matter just what I have to say. When I am done, I am sure you will agree.

The moon was full the night my story truly begins. I had decided that I should walk home instead of calling a taxi. All was well until I made it about half way. As I passed a nondescript house on a nondescript street, I heard a woman scream. Nobility was never my thing. The scream was unlike any scream I have ever heard before. It was primal. I cannot describe the energy. However, it was also a painful scream. It was clear that something very wrong was happening. When I went to investigate I found a rather large thing, and this rather large thing was eating the leg of a woman who was more likely dead from blood loss lying in a corner, as if a shirt tossed over there. The thing was a beast. It had a massive build, and appeared to be a half dog half-human monster. It was on top of me before I had a chance. As it sat on my chest and sniffed me, I prayed to God. I prayed for my loved ones. I prayed for salvation. Teeth tore into my shoulder and a quick jerk released a gob of me free from me. I prayed once again. This time I prayed for only a quick death. As the world began to fade, I heard a gunshot.

The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital three days later. My shoulder is infected and I cannot use my left arm at all. My beautiful wife believes me when everybody tells me rabid dogs attacked me and the woman and I insist it was something else entirely. By the by, they never found her leg. Alicia, my wife, was there when I woke up and there she stayed for the next week as the infection spread throughout my body. I can say with all sincerity that I do not recommend having your shoulder eaten. Nevertheless, I digress. A week of pain and anguish that was previously unimaginable. My Alicia was there for all of it. The temperatures that promised to kill me, the infection and its fast-paced spread. The bleeding. She was there when I died.

It was a Thursday I believe. It could have been Wednesday though. So hard to keep these things clear. The sun peeked in past the blinds of my hospital room. I had been unconscious for three days as the infection worked its way through my brain. I opened my eyes to Alicia crying. I tried to ask her why but no sound came out. In fact, I found it impossible to breathe. My throat was swollen shut. I knew instantly that my time was over. I pleaded once again with the lord. I begged more in those few seconds than I ever had before in my life. When that appeared to fail and the world began to fade into darkness, I began to curse him. I felt nothing but cheated. I was being cheated out of a life with my wife, watching my children grow up. I was a middle manager in a supply chain. I was only thirty-four years old. I was being screwed and I knew it. Then the world was cold and black.

I was as surprised as anyone was when I awoke in the morgue. I was even more surprised to find that everything worked, as it should. The elation when I made a fist with my left hand matched that of my boys being born. The jubilation faded suddenly when the medical examiner entered the room. You would think he never saw a corpse move around a room before going by his reaction. Now that I think of it, I am sure that was something he had never seen before. It was at this time that I realized I was hungry. A little over a week with no food. Sure, they had stuck hoses into me and forced something into my body but what I desired right now was food. Real food. Attempts to ask the examiner about this were ignored but after a bit, we were able to come to an agreement.

Fed and now clothed I walked right on out of there. I stopped off at a church on the way home to show the lord my thanks and grab a quick bite before I went home. Home, how odd that word seems now. I stood outside the house with the mortgage for $350,000 over 35 years with a fixed interest rate. I stood there and contemplated my life and my future. As I said earlier, I was a middle management guy with a wife and two kids. I was a weakling. This last week had done more than kill me, it had recreated me in pain and fire. Was I going to return to my life of nothing? Alternatively, was I going to venture out into the world and experience my new life? The answer seemed so hard to come by at the time but in reality, it was the simplest decision ever made. I stopped in long enough to grab a few changes of clothes and some cash from the safe.

I ate so much on my trip down south. I admit it; I was a glutton, completely and very insatiable. The bus trips were the best I have to say. All of those random people with their randomness. It was delicious. I spent a year in the swamps of Louisiana. I have never had more fun. I highly recommend it. There was never a dull day. I had a few run ins with the natives though, I would like to say right now that bullets hurt like hell. If you can feasibly avoid being shot you will be all the better for it. The women though, oh my lord, they showed the most emotion I have ever seen. There were countless times where I just had to sit back and drink it all in, you know. After a year in the swamp, I decided to reenter the “world” once again.

During my travels I had managed to do enough…odd…jobs that I had acquired quite the large sum of money. This enabled me to rent an apartment in New Orleans that I paid in advance for six months. I love that city. I was able to live such a hedonistic lifestyle there. I had the pleasures of a new woman every ingle night. The most varied selection of food I have ever seen in my life. The entire city is like a buffet. Oh and the drugs. I experimented with so much in my time in the NOLA. There was this one night me and a lady friend I met at a bar an hour earlier thought it would be excellent to drop acid and wander the French quarter. Ah the memories. We ran through dozens of blocks that night. It was truly a hunt.

At the end of the six months, I decided to wander off to the Florida panhandle. Life there was not as good. I met the harlot… no the whore. I met the whore there. This woman, and I use the term in the loosest sense possible, this woman had survived a vicious attack much like my own. At first, there was astonishment at meeting others just like ourselves. Then there was passion, pure unbridled passion. It was as if we were preordained to be together. I made the mistake of taking my eye off the proverbial ball. I let myself get sidetracked from my escapades. And for her part, she made me pay a terrible price. When I think of her, I mourn my life with Alicia. What we shared was innocent. It was not based on a foundation of blood.

There used to be a biker bar in a little Podunk excuse for a shit hole supposed “town” in Florida. I say used to be because I burned it down. Then I pissed on the ashes and howled at the moon. I had lived next to it in a shack. The shack was about as big as a bathroom in an apartment complex, just enough room to lie down and sleep and that was all I needed at the time. One day I was catching up on some much-needed sleep after a grueling weekend trying to track some food down. I am curled up on my cement pad rather enjoying the rest when two large bikers burst in and managed to drag me outside where they, I guess the term “war dance” applies. They war danced on my head. I laid there twitching for hours. The pain was as close to what I felt in the hospital as I have ever come.

In those hours, I thought of things. Lots of things, some dark and some terrible. I decided then that everyone in that bar at that particular moment would die. I would kill them all. When the sun went down and I was finally able to move again I pulled myself into a nearby forest. I slept in that forest for two days. On the third night, I woke up. Initially I went to the whores place to inform her of what had happened. This was when the passion was burning you understand. When I arrived, I saw her with someone else. I will admit right now that my initial reaction might have been extreme. She was not my wife after all. Hell I was still legally married to Alicia, even if I had walked away. However, in that moment I saw fit to show them the degree of my displeasure.

The next day I went back to the bar and hid in the tree line that separated the parking lot from the swamp behind the bar. I watched bikers come and go. I saw the two bikers I was expecting around eleven at night. I confronted them there in the parking lot. There was a lot of screaming and some crying. After our altercation, I decided to burn the bar down. I siphoned the gas from five cars in the lot into glass containers. They made beautiful little Molotov’s. I bombarded the shit hole then went back to the woods to watch the show. Apparently, a Molotov I threw in a back window caught the storeroom on fire. There were cases of liquor and shine in there. The explosion caught me off guard; I really did not expect it to be that big. It was beautiful. I saw bikers running out of the front door completely petrified. I soaked in the joy of knowing I just thoroughly fucked their day. I stayed in the swamp for a few hours and watched the emergency crews do what they do. By dawn the last of them was leaving, and so was I. It took me two days to get out of Florida. I hitchhiked my way north.

It was winter. I was no longer able to sleep outside. I had managed to acquire a place to stay. A kindly old woman had decided to move me into the guest room. The food was dry and lacked flavor. Badly aged I guess. I spent the majority of my time wandering learning the lay of the land. The forests, when you could find one, were packed full of plenty of game. I spent a lot of time just tracking deer. It was a perfect contrast to my previous situation down south. I think that for this short time I was the closest to nirvana I am likely to get. There was a small industrial zone not too far from the old woman’s house. I picked up a few ladies while out finding my way around. I had plenty to keep me occupied. Theresa found me. Theresa is the whore by the way. I just realized I had not bothered telling you her proper name. Well there you have it. Theresa. One day I was coming home to the old woman’s from a night of fun with a woman from the factory and poof. Theresa is standing on the side of the road. The most interesting reaction sprang from me. I almost cried. I had thought about the night we parted ways many times since. I had measured my role and decided that I over stepped. I over reacted. I also felt anger. She had betrayed me. The maelstrom of emotions anchored in my gut, as I was now feeling nauseous. My nerves were all a tingle and on fire. Immediately I noticed a change in her scent. It was no longer appealing; in fact, it was anger and hate. I knew instantly why she had come.

I approached her slowly, taking in her beauty the entire way. Even after everything, she still had some power over me. The way her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back and the sun reflected off it. The combination was simply stunning. Her body did not hurt either. She had a perfect hourglass shape. Her body was like that of a world-class model. Yes, Theresa was that beautiful. When I finally reached her, I promptly apologized for my previous behavior, an act that visibly surprised her. She stood speechless for a moment, staring at the dirt beneath our feet. Then she said the words I never expected to hear. She said she loved me. Instantly everything that made me attracted to her washed away. I was in lust, not love. I will only ever love one woman and this pathetic wretch was not nor would ever be her. My hand collided with her jaw before I realized what I was doing. I decided to go with it. A few minutes later Theresa is crying and my hand hurts. I remember the hurt look on her face. It only made me hate her more. She was weak and she was a whore.

Later I left the old woman’s house. Things had become complicated. If the whore found me that meant anyone could. The weather was beginning to warm, which made sleeping outdoors somewhat possible. This enabled a greater amount of movement and a sense of liberation I desperately needed at the time. I stayed confined to a large forest; I assume it was some kind of national park or something similar. I never bothered to find out. There was plenty to eat, and time spent honing my tracking paid dividend almost immediately. I stayed there for months. I walked outside of that forest appearing much like a homeless person who had never seen let alone used a razor. A quick stop at a local house where a man lived rectified all of that however. The woman of the house was kind and fed me during my brief stay. After all, I get so very hungry when the moon is bright. Then I went home.

When I had left Alicia, I believed that my second chance at life meant I should leave everything behind. I never considered that maybe I should take the good things in my life and leave the rest behind. I had realized in my time in the forest that I was not living I was running. So I returned home. At first, everyone was happy to see me. Nobody knew what had happened; the police did not seem too interested in searching for a missing corpse. I told Alicia a slightly altered version of my encounter in the morgue. I decided that I would not return to my old career. I thought about opening a hunting shop out by the deer rich woods. At night, I ran and during the day, I tried to acclimate to my family while also hiding the multitude of changes I had gone through since the attack. I spent a lot of time with my sons. Harry and Dale were good boys. I remember the smiles on their faces as soon as I walked in the front door when I returned. I thought I made the right decision to come back, and that look on their faces validated that.

We were camping out in the woods one night. Alicia did not feel good, something to do with her allergies. Harry was eleven and Dale was eight and let me tell you, they were pure energy. In an odd kind of way the daily natural state of those boys mirrored exactly how I’d felt since waking up in the morgue. Anyways, we were out in the forest, the same ones I roamed most of the time. I am guessing it was somewhere around midnight. Harry had to pee. You should be able to gather from all that I have said that I am completely at home in the wilderness. Eleven-year-old boys that have been raised in an urban environment, or even suburban, well they are not completely comfortable in the wilderness. As soon as I unzipped the tent, flap and fresh air flooded in I smelled her. The whore had found me again. This time I knew for sure that she would want blood. I had humiliated her on two occasions. I doubted she would allow it to happen a third time. No amount of hiding in that tent would make her go away.

I told Harry to walk exactly as I did and make no noise. As we slipped out of the tent, I scanned the tree line looking for her. There was no visual sign but she was definitely somewhere close by. The scent was so strong, like she was standing on top of me. As we crept along the foot path looking for a suitable spot for Harry the wind slightly changed direction. Someone else was there. Alicia was there. Her scent was off. It smelled as if she had bathed in fear. My angel was afraid. The whore had my wife. The thought sent chills down my spine. I told Harry to finish up and get back to the tent. I also told him to get my pistol from my book bag and use it to protect his brother. I did not need the gun personally. I only owned it because Alicia suggested it when I came home. Her thought was that it might help protect me from another future attack. She also had the boys take firearm classes while I was away. Alicia was the smartest person in any room. She had a plan for everything really. Now more than ever she truly was the better half. If the whore harmed her, I swore I would bring fire down on the world. I would kill, maim, and torture. I would be true to my nature.

I followed the scents, trying to keep track of the whore while mainly following Alicia’s. For the most part, they were at least parallel and I could ride them both. Then Theresa moved. Her scent began fading, immediately I assumed she was trying to get behind me to block off her trail completely. She must have had a visual sight of me. When I think about it now I figure she must have been hiding in the trees. It is a bit harder to track things above you than it is for them to track things below. As I thought about all of this, I heard a child scream. The choice was probably the most insane any man could be presented with. Do I save my children or do I save my wife, who can truly decide. I chose Alicia. I thought that Theresa was merely toying with me. Lord above, I was wrong. As I ran towards my wife, the boys were gutted. The details are not important but I know my boys died in undignified and utterly brutal ways. I saw them.

There was a reason Alicia was terrified. She was hanging from a tree limb. She was almost dead by the time I arrived. The whore had rigged the rope to slowly suffocate her not snap her neck in an attempt to draw me out while she destroyed my children. As I released Alicia from her prison, I looked at her face and knew what she was thinking instantly. There were no words to explain any of this, nothing I could ever say to fix this. I caught Theresa’s scent on the wind and immediately headed in her direction. When I arrived at the campsite, I saw Harry strewn all around. I only stopped long enough to say a prayer and I was off again. Alicia had been running behind me, and I heard the instant she reached the tent. I was rage personified right then. I would have killed legions to reach the whore.

When I finally met up with Theresa, she was cleaning my children’s blood off herself. This was the final straw. I rushed her and it was fury and fire from that point on. We tore into each other with veracity. There was blood and meat everywhere. Thinking back on the sheer brutality of our encounter I say with all honesty that after what that whore did, I did not go far enough. OF course, Alicia saw all of this. Later, after I had buried our children and the whore I tried to approach her. She wanted nothing to do with me, and I could not and still do not blame her. What I do blame is her reaction later when I arrived at home to grab some supplies and say goodbye. Alicia answered the door with a shotgun. I offered to leave. She said no, I had to come inside.

She led me to the kitchen and asked me in a very polite manner to sit down at the table. I obliged, maintaining eye contact with the muzzle of the weapon. She kept it aimed at my chest, and my clothes were not Kevlar. As I sat there, she began crying, but refused any consolation from me. After crying for a few minutes she finally says something, “Why did you come back?” I probably should have answered quicker. Before I could think of a way to explain anything, the gun discharged. You remember where I said she had it pointed at my chest well she jerked a wee bit when she fired. The shell tore through my shoulder. The next few moments are still black to me. All I can recall is whimpering. When I came to, I was upstairs in our bedroom, half-naked. There were bloody prints all over the wall and carpet. Following the bloody trail downstairs led me to a broken Alicia splayed out on the floor. I fell down to my knees and began crying instantly. I cried for hours. I did not leave the house for weeks. It was Alicia’s corpse and I alone in that house for a week. I talked with god that week. I found out where it had all gone wrong. I never should have returned. I brought death upon my own house.

I knew this woman when I was living in New Orleans. She was an old woman, easily in her eighties. At the time, I just figured she was an old black woman that had lived through some strange and interesting times. She had told me once that someone marked with evil would never feel god’s love for their heart is already full of evil. The only way to save those people was to end their suffering in the mortal world because god would have no compassion for them in the afterlife when they burn in the lake of fire. As I said, I just thought she was a crazy old woman. It turns out that she was right. In the twenty years since I lost my family god has done nothing to ease my suffering. I am so alone now. I decided to tell you all of this for a reason. I intend to make you like me so I will not have to do this alone anymore. No do not bothering to object, my minds made up. Now when I turn, it will be rather disconcerting. Just remain calm and let me apologize beforehand for any limbs lost. Sometimes my other half just gets overzealous but his bark is definitely worse than his bite, or so they tell me.

The End.