From 81359f325fd9d8885ffb893b410d22b962486f50 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: cruft Date: Thu, 9 Jul 2009 10:06:35 -0600 Subject: [PATCH] Add parts 3-4. Ready to begin cleanup. --- Makefile | 2 +- horrors2.ltx | 12 +- page1.tex => part1.tex | 98 +- part2.tex | 5298 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ part3.tex | 4639 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ part4.tex | 3015 +++++++++++++++++++++++ sa2ltx.py | 13 +- 7 files changed, 12970 insertions(+), 107 deletions(-) rename page1.tex => part1.tex (98%) create mode 100644 part2.tex create mode 100644 part3.tex create mode 100644 part4.tex diff --git a/Makefile b/Makefile index 68f1567..ff2da40 100644 --- a/Makefile +++ b/Makefile @@ -1,4 +1,4 @@ -PAGES = page*.tex +PAGES = part*.tex horrors2.dvi: horrors2.ltx $(PAGES) latex $< diff --git a/horrors2.ltx b/horrors2.ltx index c3ff44f..3720f3e 100644 --- a/horrors2.ltx +++ b/horrors2.ltx @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ \documentclass{book} -%\usepackage[T1]{fontenc} -%\usepackage{anttor} +\usepackage[T1]{fontenc} +\usepackage{anttor} %\usepackage{tgothic} \title{Horrors 2: Bavarious Reasons} @@ -13,16 +13,16 @@ \tableofcontents \part{Bavarious Reasons} -\include{page1} +\include{part1} \part{You're no Hakan} -%\include{page2} +\include{part2} \part{The Chronicles Of Biddick} -%\include{page3} +\include{part3} \part{My God, It's Full Of Stars} -%\include{page4} +\include{part4} %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% diff --git a/page1.tex b/part1.tex similarity index 98% rename from page1.tex rename to part1.tex index 5fa2507..e71b983 100644 --- a/page1.tex +++ b/part1.tex @@ -1,82 +1,8 @@ %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% -\by{ AYBraham} - - - - -{\em artwork by Discount_Bees} - - - -As referred to in the epic Horrors by Ben Biddick thread, -this thread is to serve as a Creative Writing contest for all -goons. - - - -Your goal: Write a short story in the theme of Horrors, the -collection of short stories written by Mr. Ben Beddick when he was -13 years old. Each story is encouraged to feature the tragic -protagonist Luke Bavarius, and must be more than 500 words each. -Each story must show that ``kids need to be respected and listened -to.'' - - - -Your Judge: Mr. Ben Biddick himself. He's -currently serving overseas in the Military, so the entries will be -judged at his convenience. - - - -Prizes: - -First Place: Full account upgrades (Platinum, No Ads, Archives, and -an Avatar Upgrade), a coupon to change any other user's avatar, -{\bf and an autographed copy of Horrors.} - - - -Second Place: Full account upgrades (Platinum, No Ads, Archives, -and an Avatar Upgrade). - - - -Third Place: One account upgrade of the winner's choice (Plat, No -Ads, Archives, or an Avatar Upgrade). - - - -In addition, if Ben so chooses, the worst entry will subjected to a -very, very malicious account name change & avatar change that -can never be changed so as long as you are on the forums, unless I -so deem it acceptable. - - - -Contest ends July 6th, 2009. Take your time with the entries. -Commence with the brutality! - - - - -%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% -\by{Mr. Bad Guy} - - -Gonna deliver some pain at 55mph up in this bitch. - - - - - -%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\chapter{The Stranger. Bavarious.} \by{Batmanuel} -{\bf The Stranger. Bavarious.} - - {\bf FOR MATURE READERS ONLY} @@ -324,10 +250,10 @@ his hat and left. I remember seeing lights. %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\chapter{Brian} \by{Torgo!} -{\bf Brian} @@ -435,24 +361,10 @@ creature then bit Brian on the face and the transformation began. %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% -\by{Mincher} - - -This thread is too hot to handle! - - - -Good luck to all you goons going hard at it. - - - - - -%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\chapter{The Horrid Assignment} \by{Dr. Mulholland} -{\bf The Horrid Assignment} @@ -2978,11 +2890,11 @@ PIZZA HUT ->DIRECTORIES +DIRECTORIES ->INFO HOTLINE} +INFO HOTLINE} diff --git a/part2.tex b/part2.tex new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f1bc69 --- /dev/null +++ b/part2.tex @@ -0,0 +1,5298 @@ +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Part of Everything} + + +Story submission! Edited to include the ``kids need to be +respected/listened to'' theme. + + + +{\bf The Death Hamsters} + + + +Luke Bavarious strolled calmly through the mall, one hand +absentmindedly stroking the cold metal of the trusty Baretta in his +pocket. ``I need a pet,'' he thought, and he made a beeline for the +pet store at the end of the strip. + + + +Suddenly a little boy sitting on a mall bench yelled out. ``Hey +mister! I don't think you should go in there,'' he hollered. + + + +Luke squinted at the boy and drew closer. ``Why not?'' he +inquired. + + + +The boy looked all around and then whispered in a hoarse voice, ``I +saw a man go in there earlier. He looked insane. He had a bag full +of something lumpy. I didn't trust him. He came out without the +bag. Nobody has come out since.'' + + + +Luke laughed. ``Balderdash,'' he chuckled, and strolled off towards +the pet store. The boy slumped in his seat with a frown. + + + +Luke walked in through the door and the door chime beeped to signal +that a person had entered. He looked around and there was no one +but he didn't really care. He knew someone would come up when he +needed to make a purchase. + + + +He tried to decide what kind of pet to get. There were dozens of +animals. He looked at some fish and then sadly shook his head. ``Too +watery,'' he muttered to himself, and moved on. There were some +green lizards there. They stuck to the glass with their toes and he +was fascinated at this miracle of God. But he decided against it +because they might decide to stick to him and then what would he +do. + + + +He saw puppies and kittens that were so cute that Luke choked back +a sob of joy. He had had a puppy when he was a little boy but one +day a burglar was running through his backyard where the puppy was +playing. The burglar was evil and the puppy was in his way. He +picked up the puppy and twisted it in half and then threw the +bottom half against Luke's window while he was sleeping. Luke woke +up screaming and barfed. He had never forgotten that day. He wiped +away tears thinking about it. + + + +He decided he wanted a hamster. They were so cute. The clerk had +not shown up yet and he began to wonder. He looked all around but +couldn't find her. Then he saw the door at the back was open a bit. +So he went there and when he looked he saw a sight that made him +scream very loudly. + + + +The mangled corpse of the clerk was lying on the floor. There was +guts everywhere. She was covered with bloody hamsters. They were +evil hamsters and they were eating her like piranhas not in +water. + + + +With shaking hands Luke drew his Baretta. He was ready to shoot but +then something soft landed on him. ``What the'' he said and looked +over his shoulder and he saw what he thought was a pom pom. But it +wasn't. It was a hamster. Then another one landed on his other +shoulder and 2 more on his head. Then they hissed and lunged. +``Hhh,'' Luke screamed as they ate his face. + + + +A superhuman strength came over him then and he flung all of them +off. He shot some but there were too many. He could hardly see +because his eyes were full of blood. He tripped over a bag of dog +food and then he got an idea. He pulled his lighter out of his +pocket and lit the bag of food. It went up in flames and blocked +the hamsters. The hamsters shrieked and burned. Luke took his +chance and ran out. + + + +The boy was waiting there, still on his bench. ``I told you,'' he +yelled at Luke. ``Something was weird. You should have +listened!'' + + + +Luke stumbled over to the boy. ``I'm so sorry,'' he choked. ``I should +have respected you. Listened to you. I didn't because you're only +10 years old. I was wrong.'' He pulled a chocolate bar out of his +pocket and gave it to the boy. The boy looked at him with a big +smile and shining eyes and was happy. + + + +By then the police were there. One of them pinned a medal on Luke's +chest. ``You're a hero, son,'' he said in a deep voice with emotion. +``There was an insane man who put evil hamsters in the store. He's +in jail now. You stopped them from killing us all.'' + + + +Luke was proud. That night he was in the paper. + + + +THE END + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Madcosby} + + +{\bf Son Of Bavarious} + + + +Luke had walked these streets so many times, yet tonight they +seemed so unfamiliar. Clouds gathered ahead, and made the dark even +darker. Alleys were so dark - black as culture - and the constant +scurrying of rats and big cockroaches seemed to come from +everywhere. + + + +Maybe it was all in my head, Luke Bavarious thought. Maybe I've had +enough of this job. For tonight was his last night as a cop, and he +was going to retire. He was the age of three third graders on +summer vacation. + + + +Each alley he passed reminded him of his past here on East Dark +Chill Street. He remembered the time he saved that elderly lady who +turned out to have a swamp tentacle that attacked him and killed +his first partner, Jack Dynasty. He saw the mirror store that had +burned down after his reflection tried to burn down the +neighborhood. + + + +Then he saw an alley he had never seen. Or had he? He had walked +these streets so many times he was shocked. The cold grasp of +surprise gripped his spine like the stickyness of masking tape on +soft paper. A figure, cloaked in darkness, stood at the end of the +alley. He pointed at Luke. + + + +``Walk away{\ldots} '' it said, in a voice that made Luke's heart skip a +beat like a record player in the back of an off-road van. Luke's +adam's apple swung like a vertical pendelum, ``Come out and let me +see you.'' + + + +The shadow screamed, ``You'll have to kill me first!'', and reached +into his long trenchcoat that he had been wearing all this time and +pulled out a Colt 45 Shotgun. + + + +Luke didn't hesitate. Chill Street had taught him wasting a second +could mean your life. So he pulled out his Beretta, which was also +retiring tonight. He pulled the trigger so fast, and six bullets +vomitted from the barrel. + + + +One struck the shadowy figure in the arm, by the elbow. But the +creepy shadow did not fall. + + + +``Nice try. But you can't kill what isn't there!'' And with that, the +shadowy figure was gone. + + + +Suddenly, it was raining. And more suddenly, Luke felt a wound in +his arm, right where he shot the creature. Blood oozed from his arm +like mucus from a child with a cold from too many snowball fights. +Luke fell to the ground, clutching the wound. + + + + + +The shadow emerged once again, and stood above Bavarious. In the +light, Luke could see clearly that the monster had the same +features as he: tall, well built like he worked out at a gym twice +a week, and a moustache. A dark moustache. But his murderer was +younger, like a child who was probably a fourth grader. It was like +looking in the mirror. A mirror of pain and agony, a place where no +one should see their reflection without remembering the pain of +losing a puppy or maybe a grandfather if youre older. + + + +Now, without the echo of the alley, the doppleganger's voice was +not muddled by the darkness and sewers of the alley.``I cant let you +retire, Luke. I'm taking your job.'' It sounded to Luke like he was +listening to his own message on an answering machine. It was his +voice. + + + +Luke turned cold. This was the end. He knew it. He wished he could +hold his wife one more time; he wished he could scream at the top +of his lungs and make the monster go away. But instead, he grabbed +his badge, and his trusty Berreta, and handed them to his killer. +It was time to pass the torch to a younger generation of cops. +That's what tonight was all about, Luke finally understood. The +future of law enforcement was children. + + + +``Thank you, father.'' And with that, the apparation disappeared. +Suddenly, Luke was sobbing. + + + +Then he was dead. East Dark Chill Street was his tomb. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Dr Scoofles} + + +{\bf The Long Finger of the Law} + + + +``Listen sweetheart{\ldots}'' I lean back in my chair and slide my feet +onto my desk as I light the cigarette that hangs between my lips +``thats the fee, flat rate, take it or leave it!'' I squint my flinty +eye at the dame sat across the desk from me. Not bad looking, +blonde wig slightly off centre and a few gaps in her kisser but a +man like me can't afford to be picky. A man like me takes what he +can get in this hard cold world. + +``Mr Bavarious, you know I'm desperate to get my hands on those +pictures!'' she whispers breathily. She leans forward and as I catch +a waft of her breath I lean back. I bet she wants these pictures, +and bad. I took them last week as she slipped out of her lovers +bed. Her husband would pay to see these. The question is will this +broad pay more? My name is Luke Bavarious and I'm a P.I. I don't +deal in honour and justice, I deal in the truth and the truth is a +mean cold hearted son of a bitch. The truth ruins lives and tears +families apart. I open my desk draw, the envelope with the pictures +sits nestled between my gun and my bourbon. I take out the bottle +and pour two drinks. She takes a drag on the cigarettes and +continues + +``I have no money, but I'll do whatever it takes.'' + +I think about it for a second. I know what she means, women with no +money have one currency that is valuable to a rouge like me. My +eyes take her in, her yellow fingers, scrawny neck and sagging +bust. I decide a man like me can afford to be picky after +all. + +``Sorry sweetheart, you better leave.'' I slam back the bourbon and +cock my finger towards the door ``don't let it hit you on the way +out, lady.'' + + + +I finish up the second drink and decide I better get around to the +dear husbands house before it gets too dark. No time like the +present to finish this dirty job and get my money. I slip on my +trusty overcoat, pocket the pictures and my gun then slip out the +back door. + + + +Night drew in fast, wrapping itself around me like a dark cape. I +walk quickly, partly to keep the cold out and partly to give myself +some distance. I knew that broad would follow me. Women ain't +smart. I turned to look behind me, let her know I'm onto her game. +Thats when it comes upon me, so damn fast I don't get a chance to +pull my gun. I feel a hiss of breath in my face, I recognize the +foul stench from earlier as yellow fingers scrabble at my neck! I +drop down and kick out, I feel her knee snap and the bone saws its +way raggedly through her meaty flesh. Blood spatters onto my face +and pours into my mouth. I swallow it then vomit gushes from my +mouth, bloody vomit and bile gushes all over my coat and all over +the crazy broad as she scrambles on top of me. Her fingers seem to +grow longer, longer as they feel about my coat. My God, I look in +horror as I see her writhing about, her fingers several meters long +as they feel around inside my coat, searching for the pictures. Her +hands are now two elongated nightmares, the bones snapping and +crackling as they bend and scrape around my fighting body. +Revulsion overwhelms me, I gag and cough as I feel her bony fingers +scraping into my pocket. They withdraw the pictures and in a moment +tears them to shreds. As I black out the last sight I see is her +jaw unhinging as she leans in towards me, to deliver the final +deadly kiss. + + + + + +Edit - Yeah I just realized I have omitted entirely the +disrespecting of the kids. I can only hold up the feeble defence +that the woman is most certainly being disrespected by our dashing +P.I and is also young (ahem). That'll teach Luke to respect those +slightly younger than him{\ldots} Ahh sorry + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Peas and Rice} + + +{\bf The King} + + + +It was a slow week. Sometimes life is like that for a private eye. +I sat at my desk drinking whisky from a bottle, taking big gulps. +The Yankees were on TV. I love the Yankees. It was already dark +outside. + + + +A noise at the door distracted me. A letter fell noisily through +the letter slot. Intrigued I stood up. It was addressed to me: Luke +Bavarious, Private Detective. But no return address. + + + +I opened the envelope and read the typed note inside. ``Mr. +Bavarious, I need your help. My daughter was kidnapped and taken to +the Service Room at Times Square Subway Station. I need her back. I +can't tell you any more than this. Please help.'' + + + +An assignment. I picked up my new Colt .45 although I liked my +trusty Baretta too. I made sure all eleven bullets were in the +clip. I might need them. Then I finished the bottle of whisky and +walked out into the New York night, lighting a cigarette. + + + +I walked to Times Square Station. It was mostly empty. Piles of +garbage sat waiting to be collected. The whole place stank like +rancid meat and decaying flesh. + + + +I drew my Colt .45 and opened the door to the Service Room. It was +dark inside but I heard a strange high-pitched sound. It sounded +like a rat. I fumbled for the light switch and a single dull +40-watt bulb lit the room with a sickly yellow color. + + + +It wasn't just one rat, it was a hundred rats! They looked at me +with vacant, black rat eyes. ``Where's the girl?!'' I demanded but +they didn't answer. Then the rats moved aside and a giant rat +waddled into the room. It was the biggest rat I've ever seen, the +size of a Labrador Retriever. It looked at me and then it +spoke! + + + +``You'll never see the girl again. Don't you know she ran away from +home? If only her mother had listened to her! You have only come +for your doom!'' And then it laughed a high pitched ratty +laugh. + + + +``I know who you are!'' I said, and I did. It was the King Rat of New +York! I'd heard stories but never seen it until now. I drew my Colt +.45 and aimed it at the King Rat's head. ``I'll take you down +fast!'' + + + +I fired one bullet, then another, then all of them into the King +Rat. The first one pierced his flesh and tore a jagged wound, and +blood pumped out onto the floor making it slick with red paste. +Then the others hit him and his body started exploding from the +force of the bullets. He was like a fountain in Las Vegas spewing +blood instead of water. Finally he fell down, dying. ``Now where's +the girl!'' I demanded. + + + +``Get him{\ldots} my minions{\ldots}'' the dying King Rat said. I turned around +just in time to see the army of rodents descending on me. Their +tiny teeth bit into me, giving me diseases as I tried to fight them +off. I used all my bullets on the King Rat so my Colt .45 was +useless. I hit one but another jumped on my head and tore my scalp +with its claws. I blacked out from the pain as I crumpled to the +floor, covered in rats as they slowly but surely tore my flesh from +my body. I screamed and a rat crawled in my mouth, and I finally +succumbed to the horror of the King Rat. + + + + + + + +Edited slightly to better match theme. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{reasonable form} + + +{\bf The Six Sides of Evil} + +Barney Flann woke up with a start. With a cube in his mind. A cube +he had never seen before. Looking at his leg he saw his leg hair +barely coming in, because he was 8 years old and his age was +between 5 and 10. + +``Barney it's time to stop dreaming!'' Barney's father, Aragorn, +laboriously squeaked. + +And then he saw the rectangle that he would instantly recognize in +any situation. Any situation where he was not terrified. And since +Barney was never terrified, any situation. + +But now, Barney had become terrified. + +Instantly, he sprung into action to repair the rectangular hole in +the sewer under his house. + +``Not now father I love you too much!'' Barney suggested to his +father whose veins in his right arm were solidifying into vomit. He +pulled out his auxyacetylene welding torch that he kept on him so +he could weld, and used it to burn the blood that was coming +through the pipe into a solid mass that would fix the pipe. + +``That was my mothers blood!'' he yelled to nobody in particular +except for himself he realized in a sudden realization of deja +vu. + +As he ran up the stairs to confirm his suspicions that his mother's +body had deflated as the blood poured down the drain. He noticed +another rectangle, but he quickly put it out of his mind and soon +he didn't notice it again. Now that he was in his mothers room he +could see he was correct, and he saw her lifeless body scream with +anguish as it realized its plight. + +``THE HORROR!'' he yelped. + +But then he noticed something else{\ldots} + +``THE HORROR!'' he yelped as he saw that there was a rectangular +sized hole in her juggular. + +Could it be that the 3 rectangles he had seen were part of +something bigger? Could it be that they would form{\ldots} the CUBE? +Barney would soon find out that this was the correct case. He +rushed back to see his dying father and discovered him infused with +life energy. + +``Father, why are you so energized?'' Barney gulped. + +``BECAUSE I HAVE SEEN THE MOUNTAIN TOP AND UPON IS ARE RECTANGLES!'' +His father, Aragorn, who was named Aragorn after a particular event +led his father to read Animal Farm, babbled incessantly. + +``No it doesn't have to be this way!'' Barney said as Barney pulled +out his Ferrari branded knife and slashed a triangle into his +father's heart so that all of the rectangular juices could flow +safely out. ``thank you son i love you'' his father said as his last +dying words. + +And then, his father died. + +``What shall I do now? How can I stop this infection of +rectangles!'' + +But quickly Barney remembered his grandmother, who they had locked +up in their basement ever since her death. He recalled the +basements location and ran to the door. But there was an evil thing +on the door, a rectangle! He ripped out his Saigo auto shotgun +loaded with fourty four magnum cartridges and prepared to fight the +fight. + +``This is the most powerful 'handgun' in the world hehe'' he muttered +as he fired the shotgun one handed in the direction of the door. +Instantly, kidney stones rolled out of the door, but the kidney +stones were in the shape of rectangles. It too was horrid. Too +horrid to imagine was possible. But it was that horrid. + +And as the millions of rectangles combined to form cubes he knew +that his evil grandmother was the source of it all! + +``Who could have created these cubes?'' he recoiled from the vomit +flowing from his mouth and left ear as he realized it was his +grandmother. + +And he realized he could not stop the cubes, that he too would be +lost in the face of ev- + +``BECAUSE I HAVE SEEN THE MOUNTAIN TOP AND UPON IS ARE +RECTANGLES!'' + + + +edited because I can, and because I only want a few misspellings in +my masterpiece. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Smeef} + + +{\bf The Old Child} + + + +The chill of the night crept through the streets. I wasn't +even in the Big Apple anymore. I was way uptown. + + + +``I ain't goin' nowhere tonight, Bavarious,'' +my partner had said back in the car, stuffing a donut in his mouth. +``That ain't even our jurisdiction.'' + + + +If the creeps out there don't follow jurisdiction, then +neither do I. And I'd been tracking this creep for hours, +following on foot block my block. + + + +He was one of those rich creeps. The worst kind. Nice suit but +grey, fat, and scummy. He had a cold sweat running on his +face. + + + +At about 110th Street a kid had stopped me and said ``Don't go after +her. She's weird, man!'' Sometimes kids have the blackest +hearts. + + + +When he turned and waddled into an alleyway, I could see that the +girl was still alright. She was right in front of him, his stiff +hands touching right at her shoulder blades. She was wearing a +schoolgirl outfit. It didn't take a judge and a jury to know +that he was guilty. It sure wasn't gonna take an executioner +to finish the rest. + + + +I stepped into the alley and could see the silhouette of her feet +between his. + + + +``Dead end, pal! No way out! Let her go!'' I drew my +Beretta, and the tactical flashlight illuminated his face as he +swung around. + + + +``It's not me!'' he screamed. ``Thank god{\ldots} +Help me!'' + + + +``You have the right to remain silent, and I suggest you do +it! Let the girl go!'' I shouted. + + + +``Get out of here!'' he grabbed the girl and started +flinging her violently. + + + +``Let her go, scumbag!'' + + + +He crashed into a dumpster with her, and I saw his head clearly for +a millisecond. I might not get another chance. I might not get +another clear shot. + + + +The flash of my Beretta lit up the alley, red blood sprayed into +the air, and the fat man flopped down like he was deflating. + + + +I ran over to check his vitals. Dead. I looked over to see if the +girl was fine. She was cowered in the corner, crying. I put the +flashlight back on the dead man{\ldots} his guts were torn open like his +torso had vomited all over the place like. + + + +I didn't shoot him in the guts. + + + +No, she wasn't crying. She was laughing. Her awful laugh +sounded like styrofoam on styrofoam. I put the flashlight on her +face. I backed up. She had a face like a ninety-year-old old woman, +a few jagged teeth and black eyes. She had big, bloody hands with +long fingernails. Blood and guts were coming out of her mouth. She +kept laughing. + + + +I shoulda listened to that damn kid. + + + +I aimed again, and she came at me like a spider. + + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{jidohanbaiki} + + +{\bf The Ocean} + +The abrasive ocean waters lapped dangerously at his flippered feet. +Luke Bavarious was a marine biologist who took his job seriously. +He set his rusty bucket of herring into the sand with a crepitating +flatulence. In the distance, gray blades pierced the ocean, coming +closer and closer. There was a portentous whirring and clicking, +growing ever louder and more frantic, interrupted only sporadically +by the crash of waves. + + + +Bavarious took fistfulls of herring in his fists. The herring were +slimy and slippery, so he squeezed the herring hard to keep them in +his grip. The bodily fluids from the herring leaked between his +fingers. He proceeded towards the malicious noise of the ocean, +slowly but determined, holding his fists of herring up to the sky, +as if in defiance to God. He stopped once the ocean reached his +hip. The gray blades swarmed around him. Luke smiled bitterly. +``Come and get it,'' he intoned. + + + +Gray beaks poked out of the water, searching, wanting, smiling. But +those smiling mouths opened to reveal long rows of tiny, but sharp, +brilliant white teeth. Luke tossed the disgusting, smashed herring +into the waiting maws. ``Eat,'' Bavarious said, almost cursing. +``Eat!'' he commanded. + + + +The dolphins splashed around him, taking their fill of the herring, +letting the herrings' slimy bodies slide down whole into their +stomachs. Bavarious began to laugh, at first just a chuckle. Then +he threw his fists covered in herring eyes and herring guts into +the air and erupted with demented revelry. ``Yes! Eat! Eat!'' he +screamed, his voice shrill with hysteria. + + + +Luke Bavarious was a marine biologist who took his job seriously. +He was also a marine biologist who would leave no slight unavenged. +Little did the dolphins know that the herring was poisoned. + + + +--- + + + +Donny had no legs ever since he could remember. A long time ago +when he was a child, he had lost them in a car accident, or so he +was told. He was also told that he also lost his parents. Every day +after school, his aunt would drive him out to the ocean so he could +swim with the dolphins as therapy. ``You're thirteen now,'' she said +bitterly as she drove him towards the sea. ``Don't you think it's +time you stopped swimming with those stupid fish?'' + + + +``They're not fish, and they're definitely not stupid.'' Donny said, +folding his arms over his stumps. + + + +Once at the dock, his aunt rolled him in his wheelchair over the +wooden planks and tipped him into the waters below. ``I'll be back +in an hour,'' she shouted down to him. ``I've got to go to a meeting +at the bank.'' + + + +Donny floated, belly up in the ocean, his horrid little stumps +flailing uselessly. Soon, he felt something slippery slide +underneath him. It was his friend, Moon Dancer the dolphin. Donny +petted Moon Dancer's nose as he dreamed of the freedom he would +have if only he could become a dolphin. Then he sensed distress +from Moon Dancer. Donny grabbed the dolphin's head and pressed his +face to it. ``Take me there,'' said Donny. + + + +He grabbed onto Moon Dancer's fin and they sped towards the +horizon. It was a wonderful feeling to move so fast and freely, but +the ride did not last. They approached a contorted figure in the +waters. Donny swam over to the struggling dolphin. ``Star Wave! +What's wrong?'' Donny asked. + + + +Green bile and rust colored blood vomited from Star Wave's blow +hole. Star Wave opened his mouth and vomited out the poisoned +herring bones. Donny screamed and then vomited himself, and soon, +vomit mixed with tears in the ocean water. Attracted by the blood, +a shark appeared and landed a killing blow on Star Wave, putting +him out of his horrid misery and spreading violent red blood +through the ocean. + + + +``Take me to who did this.'' Donny thought at Moon Dancer. + + + +--- + + + +Miles away, Luke Bavarious dropped another bucket of herring onto +the sand with a squelch. He took fistfulls of poisoned herring, and +entered the ocean. In the distance, dolphins schooled. ``Come!'' +Bavarious commanded, his powerful fists dripping with poisoned +herring entrails. + + + +``You think you're so smart!'' he spat. ``But you won't ruin my +scientific research any longer! I was going to prove that you only +had fish intelligence, but you ruined my data and now I'm the +laughing stock of marine biologists!'' + + + +The dolphins did not come, but lingered on the horizon tauntingly. +He pounded the water with his herring fist, making a horrid +squelching noise. He then went farther and farther into the ocean, +until the water was up to his neck. The dolphins then swarmed +around him. ``Eat!'' He said, scattering the herring. + + + +He laughed and laughed. Then he burbled as bitter, salty water +flowed into his mouth and nostrils. Moon Dancer swam up to him and +spat a poisoned herring in his face. Bavarious grabbed the herring +and beat Moon Dancer with it. ``Eat you stupid fish!'' + + + +Then a different dolphin swam by Luke's legs, then around his body. +It came out of the water and faced Bavarious. Bavarious screamed. +The dolphin had a human face; it was Donny. Bavarious fainted and +drowned. + + + +Years later Luke Bavarious' bones were found washed up on shore, +but no one ever found Donny's. His aunt was thrown in jail for his +murder. From behind bars, she would mutter about dolphins with +human faces endlessly until one day her cellmate couldn't take it +anymore and strangled her to death. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Knuc If U Buck} + + +{\bf The Horrific Release} + + + +I inhaled the forbidden smoke of my favourite Marlboro Reds +cigarettes wistfully. Before I can reflect on the delicious but +deadly flavours of Virginia's finest I begin coughing. Violently. +Shuddering as I pull away the tissue that covered my mouth to +reveal bits of lung meat and black blood. The realisation that I +have lost control of my bowels and bladder hits me as hard as the +foul stench. My face reddens and tears burst from my bulging eye +sockets while I struggle for air. I begin sobbing. My name is Luke +Barvarious and I am a cancer patient and former NYC private +detective. I am about to die. + +Recently, there have been rumours of children with terminal cancer +wandering out of the hospital, never to return. I have been asked +to use my detective skills to solve this case on special request +from the Chief of Medicine, Dr. Wolfgang Smith MD. I dutifully +accept. + +Night falls after an entire day of a vicious experimental +chemotherapy combined with top secret military radiation. I am also +given an additional cocktail of drugs that enable me to walk under +my own power without doubling over into vividly horrific, +sweat-soaked nightmares. I set off towards the paediatric cancer +ward. Opening the cold sterile doors of ward 42, I immediately +recognise the soft footsteps of a wandering child. + +``You there, turn around!'' I shouted down the corridor. + +The silhouette disappears into the darkness. + +I feared it would come to this. + +I instinctively move my hand down to my trusty Beretta forgetting +momentarily that there is no place to holster it on my backless +hospital gown. Armed only with my wits I slink into the shadows +past the nurses station and follow the dark, impish figure through +the hospital and into the woods behind the main building. + +Once into the woods I have to use all of my detective instincts to +keep up with my target. I track the child for was seems to be an +eternity, weaving between the thick trunks that guard the forest, +stopping against one every so often to catch my breath and wipe the +fresh bile from my stubble. As we reach a clearing I try to yell +once more, I begin to gasp for air desperately as the drug cocktail +begins to wear off. I grit my teeth to keep the cascade of bloody +lung chunks at bay. Looking up after containing myself I see a ring +of children. + +The child I was following is being welcomed into the group. I +notice at this stage the the children are just rotting husks in +varying states of decay. They begin moving in a kind of reverie +cadence. Mesmerised, I pull myself up from the stump that I had +collapsed on and notice that the boy that I followed is beckoning +me to the zombie circle. Despite their gaunt, putrid features, my +detective instincts recognise them as the missing cancer patients. +As I make my way into the group I hear the sound of a dead man +coughing. Turning back, I see my own, fresh, urine stained corpse +slumped over a tree stump with the last remnants of my lungs spread +over a puddle of vomit lying next to me. What really caught my eye +though, was the smile on my crumpled lips. Suddenly, I was +free. + + + +End. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{henpod} + + +I really did have a great time writing this. I hope you all read +it, especially Mr Biddick. I could have gone on for hours but I had +to make sure it wasnt too long. + + + +We see Bavarious in a new light, tortured by what he saw in the +alley. Only one thing is keeping him alive. The final case. +Enjoy. + + + + +quote: + + +The last case. + + + +Detective Luke Bavarious woke with a snort. Today was the day, the +case to end all cases. This case would be the biggest one he had +ever undertaken and the thought made him nauseous. It had to be +done, It will be done. + + + +He staggered off the urine stained mattress, his foot stepping in +something soft and rust coloured but he didn't care. He was +thirsty, but not thirsty for water, he walked over to his table and +grabbed the bottle of whiskey. He spun the top and swallowed the +horrid cocktail of whiskey and cigarette butts; he began to choke +but welcomed the sensation. It was good to feel something for +once. + + + +His bloodshot eye saw something glint under an old T-bone. He +picked it up and wiped off the grease. It was his badge. It read +``Detective''. + +``More like defective'' he muttered to himself and began +a horrible, scratchy giggle which began to get louder and louder, +like a washing machine in a dank, dirty laundrette. His laughter +stopped when he saw his reflection in the dusty mirror. What was +once a handsome chiselled face looked back at him with empty eyes +and a patchy beard like that of a rapist. He began to cry, the +tears ejected from his eyes like the cartridges from his berretta. +The berretta! He grabbed it, and put it to his head, pulling the +trigger. An empty click echoed through the empty room. + + + +``No, not yet. One last case. The Mad Cannibal is still out +there, eating children, I must stop him.'' + + + +Ever since the incident in the alley, he was a changed man. He +wanted to die, and had been ready to, but then the Mad Cannibal +began his horrid campaign of terror and only him, Luke Bavarious, +could take him. + + + +Slipping on his stained trenchcoat, loading his Berettas and taking +another horrid swig of brown whiskey, he staggered out like a +scarecrow into the night. He knew where the cannibal was, he had +been following him for weeks to an old warehouse where he would +take his victims and begin the ghastly practice. The sky was dark, +and the rain ran down his face like the bloody tears of the +cannibals victims. Lightning flashed, followed by thunder but +Bavarious wasn't scared, he was ready. + + + +He crept up to the warehouse, and sure enough The Mad Cannibal was +there, towering over his latest victim, a young boy wearing a +hoodie and sweatpants. It was now or never. He kissed his Berettas +and dived head first through the glass window. He landed in a +shower of glass and blood, his eyes scanning the warehouse for the +horrid ghoul, but didn't see him. Suddenly a butchers knife +flew out of the darkness and struck his shoulder, colouring it with +an all too familiar rust. Out of the darkness, a figure emerged, +running towards him with a knife in each hand and murderous red +eyes. Suddenly he fell, the kid had tripped him up! + + + +``Thanks kid, now get outta here'' Bavarious growled, +spitting blood onto the floor. + +``But I can help mister, I want to help'' + +``GET OUT'' Bavarious snarled, raising his Berettas to +scan the darkness. + + + +Suddenly, a horrid scream filled the warehouse and the cannibal +rushed out of the darkness again. Bavarious fired his pistols with +lightning speed, his Berettas vomiting bullet casings. The first +shot hit the cannibal in the stomach and he instantly spewed a +mixture of blood and human fingers. The second ripped through his +eyes, puncturing them like grotesque bicycle tyres. He was still +coming though, and Bavarious needed to reload. With lightning speed +he replaced the spent magazines, but the ghoul was gone again. +Following the trail of blood he found the madman sitting behind +some crates. He was wheezing and giggling in a pool of vomit, blood +pouring out of his eyes like a horrid waterfall. + + + +``Im not going to arrest you'' Bavarious snarled, +``but I am going to kill you. Prepare to die you sick +bastard'' + + + +``Luke{\ldots}'' wheezed the rusty figure below. +``You wouldn't kill your brother would +you?''. + + + +A lightning flash filled the room, and it was only then that +Bavarious saw the face of the cannibal in front of him. It was his +brother. An immense pressure of hatred and horror welled up inside +him. He staggered back holding his stomach, his eyes bloating like +a horrid fish. He howled upwards into the night, the vomit +exploding from his tortured innards like a revolting fountain of +misery. Behind him, The Mad Cannibal was gone. + + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Mortonic} + + +{\bf The Very Hungry Luke Bavarius} + + + +In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf. + + + +One sunday morning the warm sun came up and pop! Out of the egg +came a tiny and very hungry private detective, Luke Bavarius. + + + +He started to look for some food. + + + +On Monday he ate through some black culture . But he was still +hungry. + + + +On Tuesday he ate through two Berettas. But he was still +hungry. + + + +On Wednesday he ate through three piles of vomit. But he was still +hungry. + + + +On Thursday he ate through four sparkly Bavarius badges. But he was +still hungry. + + + +On Friday he ate through five gooooooold rings. But he was still +hungry. + + + +On Saturday he ate through an entire Baconator! That night he had +stomach-ache! + + + +The next day was Sunday again. Luke ate through one nice green +leaf, and after that he felt much better. + + + +Now he wasn't hungry anymore - and he wasn't a little private +detective any more. He was a big fat private detective. + + + +He built a small house, called a cocoon, around himself. He stayed +inside for more than two weeks. The he nibbled a hole in the cocoon +and pushed his way out {\ldots} + + + +He was a horrid reflection! + + + +He then began to read approximately 500 words of the Bible: + + + +Genesis + + + +1 First God made heaven \& earth 2 The earth was without form +and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the +Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters. 3 And God +said, ``Let there be light''; and there was light. 4 And God saw that +the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. +5 God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And +there was evening and there was morning, one day. 6 And God said, +``Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it +separate the waters from the waters.'' 7 And God made the firmament +and separated the waters which were under the firmament from the +waters which were above the firmament. And it was so. 8 And God +called the firmament Heaven. And there was evening and there was +morning, a second day. 9 And God said, ``Let the waters under the +heavens be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land +appear.'' And it was so. 10 God called the dry land Earth, and the +waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that +it was good. 11 And God said, ``Let the earth put forth vegetation, +plants yielding seed, and fruit trees bearing fruit in which is +their seed, each according to its kind, upon the earth.'' And it was +so. 12 The earth brought forth vegetation, plants yielding seed +according to their own kinds, and trees bearing fruit in which is +their seed, each according to its kind. And God saw that it was +good. 13 And there was evening and there was morning, a third day. +14 And God said, ``Let there be lights in the firmament of the +heavens to separate the day from the night; and let them be for +signs and for seasons and for days and years, 15 and let them be +lights in the firmament of the heavens to give light upon the +earth.'' And it was so. 16 And God made the two great lights, the +greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the +night; he made the stars also. 17 And God set them in the firmament +of the heavens to give light upon the earth, 18 to rule over the +day and over the night, and to separate the light from the +darkness. And God saw that it was good. 19 And there was evening +and there was morning, a fourth day. 20 And God said, ``Let the +waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly +above the earth across the firmament of the heavens.'' 21 So God +created the great sea monsters and every living creature that +moves, with which the waters swarm, according to their kinds, and +every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was +good. 22 And God blessed them, saying, ``Be fruitful and multiply +and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the +earth.'' 23 And there was evening and there was morning, a fifth +day. 24 And God said, ``Let the earth bring forth living creatures +according to their kinds: cattle and creeping things and beasts of +the earth according to their kinds.'' And it was so. 25 And God made +the beasts of the earth according to their kinds and the cattle +according to their kinds, and everything that creeps upon the +ground according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. 26 Then +God said, ``Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and +let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds +of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over +every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.'' 27 So God created +man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and +female he created them. 28 And God blessed them, and God said to +them, ``Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; +and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of +the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.'' 29 +And God said, ``Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed +which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed +in its fruit; you shall have them for food. 30 And to every beast +of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that +creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have +given every green plant for food.'' And it was so. 31 And God saw +everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And +there was evening and there was morning, a sixth day. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Oatgan} + + +{\bf The Screaming Night} + + + +The woman's shouting screams shattered the dark silence like +a broken bone after a high fall. ``Help meeee!'', she +screamed. There was no answering from the good citizens. At the +moment at least. Luke Bavarious, was not exactly a good citizen. He +was less than good, and rushed towards the attack at fast +speeds. + + + +Earlier in the day, Luke was at a tavern. Drinking margaritas and +eating submarine sandwiches at the pool as he always does. +Luke's informant Manitoba approaches. + + + +``Care for a light, B?'' Manitoba holds out a lighter, +literally vomiting fire. + + + +``No way, Manitoba. I don't smoke after the accident. +You know that. Remember?'' Luke responded. + + + +``Oh yeah'' said Manitoba. ``Look, I came here to +tell ya bout all these attacking that happened recently. Word is +some kind of half-man half-monster half-dog is wandering around in +the night and killing people in the dark alleys.'' Luke +finishes his drink and puts the sandwich in his pocket. He got up +and got another drink. This time it is a scotch on the rocks. Cheap +just the way he likes it. + + + +As Luke is quickly racing towards the female screams he hears a +distant rumbling coming from the same direction as the female +screams are coming from. He thought time was running short. Wind +swept through his windswept hair as the cries drifted closer and +closer. He then heard a sound that sounded like a sharp object +tearing into flesh. The girl screamed no more. She was killed +before she was saved. + + + +Luke continued to give chase. He ran until he was tired from +running to much. He ran more and followed the rumbling through the +alleys as the monster left strewn garbage and blood streaks in the +ground. He passes a homeless boy looking through a trash dumpster. +He stops and asks him if he has seen anything suspicious. The boy +replies negatively. He has seen nothing. His mind might change if +he gave him the sandwich sticking out of his dark flowing powerful +trench coat though. Luke says no. He continues chasing. + + + +Luke came to a dead end. DAMMIT! What is that? A sewer? Luke heads +down into the city sewer system. The stench is bad. Like rotting +meat from last Thursday. He marches onward. Along the way he finds +spare body limbs. Owner, unknown. He also sees the homeless boy +again. This time the kid gives Luke a warning. + + + +``You will not catch him. And you will not defeat him. He is +too evil.'' + + + +``What the hell do you know, kid.'' He says. +``You're just a freakin' homeless +kid.'' + +Luke pushes the boy down as he sloshes through the filth. The boy +falls face-first into the sewage. As Luke wades he sees a door at +the end of the tunnel he took. The door has a sign on it that reads +THIS IS THE LAIR A MONSTER FAREWELL TO ALL WHOM ENTER. Luke pays no +heed and barges through. He sees the homeless kid again. + + + +``How did you get here, poop-head? I thought I ran past you +and I did!'' + + + +``Inconsequential,'' said the homeless boy. The boy then +shape shifted into a monster that looks kind of like a dog. Luke +drew his Beretta and fired wildly into the dog-monster. The monster +showed no signs of being affected like bleeding or flinching. In +frustration Luke threw the Beretta at the monster. + + + +``I warned you more than once, human! Now you pay for not +listening to me and not giving me a sandwich!'' The monster +lunged at Luke and pinned Luke to the wet slimy ground. Luke could +not move. He could only struggle. Luke's face was peeled off. +The monster ate his face. + + + +The End? + + + +Writing this was actually quite fun. Thank you, Mr Biddick! + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Lynxifer} + + +{\bf Luke Bavarious and the Orchestra of Nothing.} + + + +I pulled my trenchcoat closer to my body, as the cruel autumn winds +flicked and bashed against my weary frame. + +``Some night for a job.'' I announced to myself in my +head. Like every true pee aye, I felt it required that I narrate my +life, to the voices in my head, the voices that guided me and kept +me safe from the others. + +The run down dreary doors passed me in a blur as I walked swiftly +down a street with eyes peering out of every window, my gun +shivering under my layers, eager to spill out and deal in its holy +cleansing. + + + +I wasn't an angel, I wasn't some holy pariah. I was the +encapsulation of a human devil, ready to pass my judgement on you. +All of you who thought I was the ripe target of abuse and of +mocking, all of you who thought you were better, my gun and I are +always ready to knock you down a peg. + + + +The street twisted into another and then, another as the wind raced +around me, the howling growing like a hungry wolf on the hunt. My +target was the old opera house off 3rd and 29th. In it's day, +it was probably a beacon of talent and beauty, but the sands and +ebbs of time had reduced it to a third rate nothing, its former +glory haunting it, the same as the drug dealers and scum that hound +its bricks and mortar. + +The streets finally moulded into a conclusion as the opera house +came into view. Somehow I didn't expect it to be as clean and +fresh as it was. I rubbed the base of my gun's magazine as I +approached my goal, taking tentative steps. Although hired by the +manager of the house, I didn't trust the guy, he oozed a +slimy confidence that put me off base when he called me and +enlisted my services, his voice full of practised bravado and false +compassion. + + + +The doors stood between my fate and me, I took hold of one of the +weathered brass handles and tugged with considerable force, which +yielded entrance to me. Taking the opportunity, I dashed into the +poorly lit entrance foyer and out of the harsh winds that had led +me here. + +Inside, the manager was waiting for me. He was as grimy as I had +imagined, his hair slicked back like a funeral director and his +suit oddly positioned. + +``Well har there, bud! You must be thar Private +Investigator.'' He said to me, his hand outstretched to shake +mine. + +I did things my way. I looked at his hand, wrinkled my lips at it +and left my hands firmly at my coat. + +``Hello.'' I said calmly. + +He seemed genuinely upset at my refusal to meet him half way as he +retracted his hand. I felt vindicated as he ran his fingers through +his hair and wiped the oily residue on the back of his +trousers. + +``Ahm sure I made myself clear on the telephones.'' He +said to me, fingering his top pocket slightly. ``Ah just need +you to find mah missing Orchestra.'' + +I sneered slightly. The fact that he claimed ownership of such a +beautiful thing when he himself had none, was sickening. + +``I'll find them, don't worry.'' I replied, +offering no form of comfort in my voice. + +Seeing that his snake oil charms would get him nowhere with me, He +slinked away, his greasy smell following him as he slinked into the +pitiful box he undoubtedly called an office. + + + +I loosened my coat somewhat as I began my quest inside the house; +my first stop was the pit, as that was usually the location of an +Orchestra. + +The corridors I found myself in were full of regal decoration and +warm lighting. I had to stop myself from examining my surroundings. +I had a job to do and I was going to do it. + + + +The corridor gave way to the auditorium as I breached the unlocked +doors with my trenchcoat flapping in the slight wind coming from +the stage, the entire room dark and lit for a performance. I walked +with my chest puffed outwards as I approached the pit, my right +hand firmly on my gun, its cold metal serving to keep me +attentive. + +I twisted my head as I peered into the foreboding pit and saw +nothing but empty seats and scores strewn around the floor. I was +about to stand up and abandon this line of inquiry, until the wind +from the stage picked up to a whistle. This was a break I needed as +I grabbed my gun and cocked it with deliberate action to put fear +into whatever was playing this game with me. + +I walked towards the steps with army style stealth and crept up +them, peering towards the undecorated back of the stage. + +As I slinked across the stage, I felt the wind intensify, until all +of a sudden the stage lights erupted into a ball of white-hot light +and illuminated the entire stage from its murky prison. + +I twisted around with precise movement, my gun raised and ready +shoot, but became filled with horror was I surveyed the scene +presented to me. + + + +Although the lights on the stage were blinding and piercing, my new +tormentor had left a small channel for me to survey my audience. +Ghouls. Zombies, Rotting Corpses. Call them what you will, they +were now watching my every move, their rotting flesh falling off, +and congealed blood spilling to the floor like rancid rain. + +Whatever was going on, I wanted no part of it. This was not my gig, +I hadn't signed up for this, and it was my time to +leave. + +Fate had conspired against my quick escape and had removed the +steps to my freedom, leaving only an expanse of nothing. + + + +``AAAAAAAnd now!'' A voice rang out from behind me. I +twisted and saw a twisted figure of bone and seared flesh holding a +wireless microphone, wearing the same greasy suit as the +manager. + +``The one, the ONLY. Luke. Bavarious!'' He announced to +the deathly audience. + +I raised my gun to his head, and lined up the sights to his head. I +didn't like his style and thought he needed to learn of +justice, Bavarious style. + + + +A noise, stopped me from enacting his punishment. A deathly clatter +of strings and pipes, arranged in a screech and howl. I spun +around, my gun ready to deal with this new nemesis as the source of +this new sound became apparent. + +An orchestra of 12, probably the very orchestra I had been sent to +find, were there. Each in dirty and torn tuxedo's, +they're appearance was no better than the crowd of demons +watching this harrowing event unfold. Some were missing jaws, eyes, +some even missing limbs, but each player managing to play their +instrument of death in the symphony of horror. + + + +I'd had enough of this game, the rules weren't to my +liking and the umpire was bent. + +Like a holy angel, I raised my pistol to the Tuba player. Obviously +gluttonous in his previous life, I decided he was the first to +experience cleansing. I aimed for the largest portion of his head, +held my breath and squeezed the trigger. + +The bang of the gun had silenced the approaching orchestra as the +round rippled through the air and smashed into the players head, +but bounced off like a ball on a wall. + + + +I shook off my surprise and aimed for another, this time it was a +violin player. A once cute broad, but her new bandmates had +corrupted her into join the legion of the dead. Again, aiming for +the head as the band started playing their deathly march and +advancing faster this time, I peered down the sights and +squeezed. + +Another veil of silence enveloped the house as the same happened +again, the round bouncing off harmlessly. + + + +I could have fired the rest of my chamber on the advancing horde, +but I didn't think my metal protector deserved that +fate. + +As the band approached, I heard the crowd moan and scream. I +guessed that this was the undead version of a cheer as the players +came closer and closer to me, closer to whatever endgame they had +decided for me. + +I wasn't about to grant them this, I never planned to go out +this way and I had a long way to go yet. + +As I considered the situation, the pieces of the puzzle fit into +place. I'd worked out why the orchestra had gone missing, why +they had turned into the grisly afterimage and why the audience had +joined them in the ranks of the undead. + + + +Grasping my angel, I placed the barrel under my chin, aiming for my +precious grey matter and I squeezed. + + + +The round screamed through my head and smashed through my +skull. + + + +As I fell to the ground, I saw the orchestra scream out in pain and +begin to disintegrate, as if the blinding gleam of the stage lights +were holy light, coming the cleanse them. + +The Audience was sharing the same fate, as they melted into a gloop +and started to run towards the stage area. + +With my last breath, I placed my gun back in its holster, my job +done. + + + +Two days later I woke up in the hospital. I could feel a bandage +wrapped around my head, holding my essence in. + + + +``Well done.'' The cute nurse said, seeing I was awake. +``You found the orchestra.'' + + + +Like the Mounties, I always get my man. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Cheesus Christ} + + +I pray to god I'm the first person to think of this{\ldots} I haven't +had time to read the entirety of the other thread. + + + +Also, I just wanted to say that one might appreciate this story a +bit more when they compare it side by side with The Horrid +Reflection, as I put in a lot of effort in preserving the original +structure and tone. + + + +With that said{\ldots} may I present{\ldots} + + + +{\bf The Horrid Erection} + + + +I stepped into the stall. The urge had come again. I was in the 4th +floor men's room of the Tri-County Technical College library. +The sleek basin of water in the toilet bowl beckoned for my cock +like a lost lover. I am a chronic masturbator. My name is Luke +Bavarious. I like to masturbate. + + + +Sure, people had been complaining about weird noises coming from +the campus restrooms for about a year now, ever since I enrolled +last spring. Signs were placed on all the bulletin boards and +restroom entrances: ``RESTROOMS MONITORED BY +SECURITY.'' + + + +I edged my swollen crotch closer to the rim. Suddenly, I noticed I +was not alone. Peeking under the stall I saw a dark pair of legs +occupying the stall next to mine---the handicapped stall. I +thought I heard the faint sound of sobbing. No matter, I lowered my +fly and gripped my quivering organ. + + + +``Keep it down, buddy,'' I shouted through the stall +divider. + +``(Sniffle{\ldots} sob)''. + +``KEEP IT DOWN!'' I shouted again. + +``(Sniff){\ldots} beggin' your{\ldots} +(sob){\ldots}pardon,'' said the legs. + + + +I began to pull on my delicate member, but found it impossible to +concentrate thanks to my weeping accomplice. Now, I've wanked +it co-op before; never bothered me. Hell, I've even wanked it +with people crying (Grandma Packard's funeral, `natch), +but this time? This time I just couldn't even raise a +chubby. + + + +A breeze trickled over my waggling dick as I slapped the divider. +The sobs had grown louder, though now they were mixed with a deep +grunting sound. ``Shut the fuck up man, I can't even +think!'' I cried, though the noises only responded with +renewed intensity. + + + +Enough is enough. After one last bang I knelt to the floor and +peered up at my discourteous neighbor. + + + +``SHUT THE FU-'' and I could say no more. The occupant +twisted its convulsing body toward me. First its reverberating +forearms. Then its jiggling ball sack. Then its penis. If you call +it a penis. Its texture was horrid. There was an abundance of +purple scars. There was blood leaking from open sores along the +shaft and from its urethra. There was no hair. Only pulsating +veins. + + + +I banged my head on the bottom of the stall in astonishment. I +gritted my teeth but spurts of vomit flew from my +mouth---Quiznos. He took a step towards my defenseless head and +I saw his Johnson glisten with lubricant in the dim florescent +light. + + + +He screamed and arched his pelvis toward me. His stub of a hand was +flying furiously across his pole, which I could tell was ready to +commence its brutality. Then, he pulled the trigger. + + + +His body recoiled as he loosed an animalistic scream. I heard a +splatter hit the floor beside my head and looked up just as his +One-Eyed Snake sprayed my gaping mouth with a wad of jizz. It kept +cumming with the assistance of his adrenaline. Only a split second +passed before he squeezed off another round onto my neck. + + + +His Thing was inches away when it fired point-blank into my throat. +He slapped my head with his dick terribly powerful. I could see its +strained muscles as my head jerked to the side, smashing into the +floor. Dazed, I felt him fire again and again into my nose, eyes, +ears. I felt his recoil pushing back rhythmically. Man-juice +hitting the pavement, showering me. I felt my own cock fall limp +again the floor. He kept firing, but his magazine was empty. He +staggered. I tasted his semen and blood mixed into a horrid cock +tail. He stepped over me. A library card dropped the floor. +Bavarious. + + + +I looked down at my hands and saw a horrid erection. Suddenly, I +was sobbing. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{brylcreem} + + +This is a sequel of sorts to my story in the other thread, +{\bf The creature. From the +sewers}. Enjoy! + + + +{\bf Dying. Of arsenik!} + + + +''Mommy? Where's Daddy?'' The questions kept +penetrating Louise's skull like a rusty icepick that had been +left outside too long. Long enough to develop rust. Cancer for +metal, Louise's father had always said in his father-voice. Now he +was dead. Like Gene. + + + +``Daddy isn't here, sweetheart! We live with Tolkien now, remember?'' +Louise had left Gene for Tolkien three years ago. It had been the +best years of her life. Until now. The kids made it that way. The +kids with their kid questions and their kid faces. Why were they +like that? They were kids, that's why. + + + +Louise turned around. Suddenly! The kid winced. Louise slapped it +with her hand. Blood poured out of the mark left by her wedding +ring. Tolkien had bought it. On a Sunday. + + + +They had visited Tolkien's parents. They lived in a small farmhouse +just off Route 66 in the desert. Miles to the neares neighbor. They +had horses, and Louise loved to ride them. Tolkien's parents were +rich. But it didn't show in the way they dressed. Tolkien's dad +wore shirts and blue jeans. Tolkien's mom wore shirts and blue +jeans. Tolkien had picked up the habit. He wore shirts and blue +jeans too. Soon, Louise were wearing shirts and blue jeans. + + + +It was Sunday. Louise and Tolkien rode to town on a mighty steed. +They stopped at a jewellery store. Tolkien and Louise went inside +the jewellery store. Inside, the owner of the jewellery store +looked them up and down. She was the owner of the jewellery store, +and she didn't like poor people in her jewellery store, of which +she was the owner. + + + +``Get out of my jewellery store!'' She said. ``We don't like poor +people in this jewellery store! I own this jewellery store!'' The +owner said. + + + +``I have money!'' Tolkien said. He showed his money. + + + +``Oh.'' The owner of the jewellery store said. ``Oh. Please shop. This +is my jewellery store''. + + + +``Thank you.'' Tolkien said. ``I will'' he said. + + + +Tolkien picked out a ring. He gave the money to the owner of the +jewellery store. + + + +``Keep the change'' Tolkien said to the owner of the jewellery +store. + + + +``Thank you very much'' the owner of the jewellery store said. Now +she could retire and buy a boat. Tolkien had been the 10.000th +customer and she had enough money to buy a boat and retire. So she +did, the next day. + + + +In the meantime, Louise was happy with Tolkien. Tolkien wore shirts +and blue jeans. Louise wore shirts and blue jeans. The kids wore +pajamas. This was why Louise hated them. + + + +She had been giving them arsenik for dinner every night. Her high +school biology teacher had taught her to make it in exchange for +sex. Louise had been 14 years old and she loved it. So did the +teacher. Louise told everything to the principal and he was fired. +Then he commited suicide. Louise didn't care. + + + +Louise gave arsenik to her children. But what she didn't know, was +that the kids vomited from it. They vomited into the air ducts of +the house. And there the dust became infested with arsenik. Then +Louise and Tolkien breathed it and then they died. + + + +The End. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{henpod} + + +Cheesus christ. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{taurapo} + + +a tribute to ben biddick + + + +The Child + + + +Luke Bavarius stared into the barrel of his Beretta, if only he had +the guts to pull the trigger of his Beretta, He nearly got erection +thinking about how the bullet from his Beretta would tear his brain +in half and a shower of blood would vomit from the back off his +head into the wall. + + + +Suddenly he heard a scream come from the apartment above him, +without hesitation he drew his Beretta and headed up the +stairs. + + + +It is there he witnessed a sight that made him vomit harder than he +ever vomited before, a child who couldn't have been older +than a year or six was being raped by what he could only describe +as a extremely hairy ape. + + + +There was blood and vomit all over the floor as the oversized ape +like creature was endlessly pounding away on the child, Luke +Bavarius lifted his Beretta and pulled the trigger shooting the +abomination in the eye socket. + + + +After the smoke cleared from his Beretta Luke Bavarius could +finally inspect the creature, he was shocked when the creature was +nowhere to be found, the only thing he saw in the hallway was the +lifeless corpse of a dead man. + + + +A closer examination gave room for the ugly truth, the bullet form +Luke's Beretta had penetrated the skull of the now lifeless +corpse who Luke Bavarius recognized as Raymond Von Strathburgh an +ultra conservative right wing Christian with a PHD in +Creationism. + + + +The thought of what he just did shot into Luke's mind faster +and harder than the bullet shot from his Beretta, his stomach +growled as vomit shot up to his head. But Luke Bavarius +couldn't open his mouth due to shock. + + + +While pressurized vomit was shooting out of Luke's nose +another tenant ran into the hall and witnessed a sight that made +him projectile vomit down the stairs of the building, Luke realized +he couldn't allow the man 'a witness to the horrible vomit +inducing crime' to live. + + + +Unwillingly Luke Bavarius raised his Beretta for the slaughter of +another innocent man, upon seeing Luke take aim the man froze with +fear while simultaneously shitting and pissing his pants, the +horror of the situation dawned upon Luke Bavarius as he decided to +do the thing most fitting. + + + +He shot his Beretta, as his Beretta fell inside a huge pool of +blood mixed with vomit the now lifeless body of Luke Bavarius let +go off its boundaries and shit and piss flowed freely out of his +lifeless corpse. + + + +The hall Stank with the stench of piss, Vomit and shit. The police +declared it a health hazard and had the entire block evacuated, all +but one officer who entered the building projectile vomited unto +another officer. + + + +The tenant who witnessed the horrible crime went insane and was +sent to an asylum where he promptly killed 3 staff members before +committing suicide with Luke's berretta. + + + +Two weeks later new tenants found the lifeless body of a little +girl inside Raymond's flat, she showed signs of repeated +sexual abuse, her rust colored dress was soaked in blood and semen. +Raymond's semen. + + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{henpod} + + +I think some people are projecting their sick sexual fantasies +through Luke Bavarious. The man deserves better dammit. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Assless Chaps} + + +{\bf The Mosquito of Death} + + + +Luke Bavarious stumbled slowly through the New York City alley, +gently swatting the mosquitoes away from his skin with the butt of +his beretta. It was a hot and humid night, and the blood-suckers +were relentless in their pursuit of delicious, sticky human blood. +His delicious blood was made even more delicious after drinking +four Coors in a nearby bar. The mosquitoes knew it was delicious +and that Bavarious was too drunk to defend himself properly. Or so +they thought. + + + +As Bavarious continued to wade through the refuse and urine-soaked +mattresses strewn about the alleyway, the mosquitoes became +ravenous. They swarmed him in droves, and he began frantically +waving his trusty beretta around, squishing the lowly bugs into a +mess of guts and recently-consumed human blood. + + + +Suddenly Bavarious vomited. The alcohol had finally gotten to him, +and he spewed out chunks of peanuts and pretzels, mixed with beer. +He puked so hard he began puking blood out of his mouth. The blood +and vomit cocktail splattered to the ground, forming a vile and +horrid river of bodily fluids. If only he had listened to his young +son, Timmy, and stayed home that night, instead of going out and +drinking Coors, none of this would have happened. + + + +The mosquitoes began to fly away from Bavarious. He thought in his +drunken mind that they were giving up, and that he would be able to +continue on his walk home, while the insects pursued more +easily-caught prey. Bavarious was wrong. Dead wrong. + + + +Bavarious tripped over a rotting pile of dog feces, and landed +face-first onto the asphalt. As he raised his head, blood spurted +from his broken nose in every direction. Bavarious used all his +manly strength to pull himself up, and when he looked up, he saw +all the mosquitoes joining together, like a giant mosquito army, in +a frenzy due to the delectable scent of his flowing blood. They +grew in number, and eventually a million mosquitoes joined forces +and swarmed together. They began to morph into one hideous +creature. One giant mosquito! The most humongous mosquito ever +recorded in the history of mankind. A gargantuan travesty of a +beast. + + + +Not deterred by this horrendous creature, Bavarious screamed at the +top of his lungs, ``EVIL-DOER! VILLAIN! YOU DO NOT FRIGHTEN +ME!'' As he screamed, flecks of spittle mixed with the +still-running blood from his broken nose, only attracting the giant +mosquito more. + + + +The giant mosquito, the size of Bavarious at least, stood up on its +back two legs like a human, to do battle with Bavarious. Its long, +pointed proboscis inched closer to him, yearning for the sweet +taste of human blood. Luke Bavarious unholstered his beretta and +let loose a torrent of bullets that merely ricocheted off the giant +mosquito's hard insect body. {\em This is no ordinary +mosquito}, Bavarious thought to himself. + + + +The massive insect lunged forward and sunk its sword-like +blood-sucking mouth-nose into Bavarious' neck. Bavarious +screamed in agony as blood flowed from his wound like a red rapid. +The pain caused him to lose control of all bodily functions. He +writhed in agony as the pain caused him to puke up the remnants of +his pretzels and peanuts, mixed with beer and the bile left over in +his stomach. He felt particularly uncomfortable as his bladder and +bowels emptied into the camouflage fatigues he wore. His apparel +was filthy. He was reduced to a slithering, screaming shell of a +man, covered in excrement, urine and vomit. + + + +The mosquitobeast had had enough. It pulled its sucker from +Bavarious' neck with a wet, slimy burp. Bavarious watched in +pain, as the mosquito slowly turned and began to walk away, unable +to fly because it was so filled up with his beer-blood. + + + +Suddenly, a white light beamed down on Bavarious. He squinted from +the blinding light, and could vaguely see the shadow of a man in +the light, far, far away. As the shadow-man moved closer, Bavarious +felt that he looked familiar. + + + +``Grand-nd-pa?!'' he said. + + + +``Yes. It is me, Luke Bavarious. Your grandfather: Brock +Bavarious. I am here to help.'' + + + +Soundlessly, Grandpa Brock showed Bavarious how to slay the beast. +And as quickly as he appeared, he was gone. + + + +Bavarious mustered up the last of his strength and stood up. He +slowly stalked the giant mosquito and lunged forward, clinging to +the creature's back, like a child riding piggy-back on the +back of a man. As the mosquito let out an eardrum-bursting roar, +Bavarious grabbed its giant proboscis and yanked it hard. The +proboscis broke off and the creature's power was drained. Its +only way of eating was destroyed. It crumpled to the ground, +writhing in a puddle of its own blood mixed with the blood of all +of the victims of the millions of mosquitoes that made up this +disgusting creature. After a few seconds of painful screaming, the +creature died. + + + +Bavarious didn't want to take any chances, so he raised the +broken-off proboscis and stabbed the mosquito right through its +insect heart. + + + +``You suck,'' he said, as he hobbled away, ready to get +home and get some sleep. + + + + + +{\em Edited to include something about listening to kids, as this was +written before the instructions were posted} + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{henpod} + + +I cant help but laugh every time I read the word vomit in these +stories. Its fantastic + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Sirocco} + + +{\bf The Monster of Lake Grim} + + + +I stepped out into the night. The clouds were dark and raining +shadows. The lake was calm. Dead fish rose to the surface. They +shone in the moonlight. I was here. Lake Grim. + + + +I am Luke Bavarious. A detective from New York City. But I +wasn't in New York City anymore. I was at Lake Grim. +Investigating. My shoes squelched horrid vomit noises in the mud. +When I heard the sounds I stopped. I looked around, in a sudden +panic that threatened to overwhelm me. I fell forward and knelt in +the mud and vomited on the ground. Some of it went on my hands but +I didn't care. I was afraid. Reports from this area had +reported strange vomitings in the lakeside town Grim which was next +to Lake Grim. First you heard the vomit noise. And then you vomited +yourself. Then the blood. And then{\ldots} you were never heard +from again. + + + +I stepped up. I knew if I wasn't careful enough I would fall +to the hands of the monster. If they were hands. That it had. The +boy had warned me about this. I had been foolish not to listen. I +looked around and restlessly put my hand near my Beretta. My TWO +Berettas. The breeze drifted through the trees and made waves on +the surface of the lake. My eyes scanned the lake. + + + +``The monster must live in the lake,'' I said to +myself. + + + +I walked down to the lake's shore and looked into the black, +swirling water. I saw my reflection. I was about to look away when +I felt the need to vomit rise from my stomach and into my mouth. I +vomited into my reflection, again and again, blood and saliva came +out too. + + + +``This is horrid!'' I gasped, in between vomits. + + + +A dark, black shape broke the surface of the lake. The monster of +Lake Grim had decided to show its face. I needed to act fast before +it was too late. I leapt back and pulled both Berettas out and +fired them at the shape but it kept on coming. Shells hit the +ground and got stuck in the mud. I tried to reload but the need to +vomit and the fear made my hands too shaky. I dropped the shells +and backed away from the monster. + + + +``My weapons are useless!'' I cried. I tried to swing my +fist but my vision was blurry from salty tears of pain and fear and +horror. And I missed. I fell back on to my face and broke my nose. +Blood splattered everywhere on the ground like a rose trampled +underfoot. Then I vomited into the blood. And then I sneezed. I +turned over and looked up at the starlit sky. The night sky turned +black. The monster was looming over me, ready to do its evil +deed. + + + +``Kill me! Just kill me now!'' I gargled, trying to speak +through a mixture of vomit, blood, boogers, and pus from where the +blood came from. ``Kill me!'' + + + +It stopped. Then it walked away, leaving me in the mud and the +grass, shaking without control. + + + +And suddenly I was crying. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Cota Froise} + + +{\bf The Horrid Reflection - Redux} + + + +I sat at my computer. The email had come again. I was checking my +emails in between browsing the Something Horrid forums. My hand +shook slightly with the mouse in my hand. The white cursor was +positioned and ready, ready to click. I am an internet detective. +My name is Luke Bavarious. I like this work. + +People had been complaining about horrid email attachments coming +from a mysterious stranger for about a year now and I finally +decided to see what was going on. I had decided to stop these +emails. + +I leaned into the dim monitor light. I saw a single email sitting +in my `junk' folder, hiding away from me. It was +strange and suspicious. I raised my mouse and lined my cursor up +with the icon. + +``You there{\ldots} What are you then?'' I whispered through the +darkness. + +``Open up{\ldots}'' I whispered again. + +``Beggin' your pardon, but{\ldots} you don't want to open that,'' my young +son said. + +``Sure I do. I got a cursor pointed right at it so I'd +better,'' I replied. + +``Okay, you asked for it,'' my son mumbled as he began to turn +around. + +A chill trickled through the room as I clicked and the picture +began to load for me. I couldn't see it yet, it was loading on the +screen. + +``Get onto the screen.'' + +It inched downward. First its back. Then its arms. Then its ass. +Then its legs. If you look at the legs. His ass was horrid. There +was an abundance of red flesh. There was blood leaking from a burst +blood vessel and he only had one gold ring. There was no face. +There was no head. Only a hole. + +I took a step back in astonishment. I gritted my teeth to keep the +vomit down. + +I took three more steps forward and I felt my tears glisten in the +dim light. + +``I told ya,'' my son said. + +He screamed and began to run away from me. My mouse was held high +in the air and was ready to commence my brutality. I clicked the +right button on my mouse. The click soothed my fear as I saw a +drop-down menu open and saw the `delete' option make a +white rectangle over the thing's ass. It kept resisting with the +assistance of my email provider's inferiority. It had only +been a split second before I brought up another drop-down menu over +its ass. The thing was inches away as I dragged and dropped it into +the Recycle Bin. Two more appeared on my desktop. + +My palm smashed my forehead terribly powerful. Muscles were +strained and torn as my head jerked to the side, smashing a window. +I fell and landed in jagged glass. Dazed I stared again and again +into the thing's hole. I felt the vomit rising back rhythmically. +Glass hitting the floor. Me hitting the glass. Vomit showering me. +I felt my own blood from the side of my head fall and drip. I kept +staring. The hole was empty. I staggered. I tasted my tears and +blood mixed into a horrid cocktail. It fell down next to me. A name +sparkled on the side of his ring. Bavarious. + +I looked up at the computer screen and saw a horrid reflection. +Suddenly, I was sobbing. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Combat Wombat} + + +{\bf The Library} + + + +My name is Luke Bavarious. I'm a PI, a private investigator. I +wasn't always a PI, I used to be a cop. A damn good cop, the best +on the force. But that was the past. There's no point dwelling upon +the past. It's not so bad though, a PI is like being a freelance +cop. + + + +I had a new case, it had come in this morning as I was trying to +murder my hangover with a coctail of aspirin and coffee. The phone +pierced the silence and drove deep into my head with the force of a +semi-truck going 55 miles per hour. I swore never to get this drunk +again. I remember I had fought down the vertigo and struggled to +make sense of the words coming out of the earpiece. ``This was worse +than the time I killed myself in the alley,'' I thought to myself. +At least I hoped I thought to myself. What if I spoke it out loud? +I looked at the phone in my hands in horror. My hand trembled. It +suddenly became too much weight to bear. I remembered mumbling +something close to ``I'll be there'' and slammed the phone headset +back on it's cradle. At least I hoped that's what I said. It was +all too much to deal with. + + + +I was struggling to piece together what the voice on the phone had +told me. The voice said something about noises in the library. +There were children there, they were afraid it was a stalker. The +police had found nothing and they couldn't watch the place all day. +That's where I came in. + + + +I grabbed the bottle of aspirin and twisted the child proof safety +cap off. I downed the entire bottle and washed it down with the +remained of my coffee, now lukewarm and disgusting. Odd, I thought. +I just made this pot. + + + +I grabbed my berretta and palm slammed a clip into it. As I made my +way towards the door with grim purpose I was accompanied by the +sounds of aluminum cans being crushed underfoot, cans that lay +scattered across my apartment like ammo shells. There had been a +war here last night, Coors were the bullets. I was the victor and +the defeated. + + + +When I got to the library it was deserted. It was a cold, desolate +place lit only by the night lights. Rows upon rows of books lined +the shelves. Each one was like a tombstone, the library a masoleum. +It was all too much. + + + +If there was a stalker I would need to stake him out. I searched +the library and found the perfect place, a hallowed out section of +a bookshelf that I could fit myself into. I removed the books and +squeezed myself into my new hiding place. As I began piling books +to cover myself up my fingers brushed against the covers of all the +books. I could feel the grain, the texture. The embossed lettering. +I hate embossed lettering. Some of the books had jackets with +embossed lettering on them. I tore those off and hid the jackets. +The books were much better without them. There wasn't anything I +could do about the ones that had embossed lettering on the covers +themselves. + + + +Soon I was perfectly hidden, a specter. A ghost. Now I had to wait +and watch. My berretta felt cold and heavy in my hand. It was my +constant companion, my only friend in this cold, terrifying +world. + + + +I waited out the hours. The cold blackness of night soon gave way +to morning and the library opened. Librarians streamed in and began +sorting the returns and placing them on the appropriate shelves. +Dewey Decimal would have been proud of these librarians. + + + +Soon the place was filled with adults and children. My eyes were +sharp, alert. I had picked a perfect spot with a clean view of the +checkout counter and much of the library itself. I would find this +stalker. + + + +I could see the effects of his presence, clear as day. People +looked around worriedly as if they were aware of someone watching +them. No, not someone. Something. I could feel it too. A deep, +murderous intent hanging on the air like heavy cobwebs. A cold, +unrelenting malice that permeated the very air. A thick, undulating +smog of contempt. It bore down on me, on everything. It terrified +me. I swallowed the vomit that threatened to climb up my +throat. + + + +I could feel it everywhere. I could feel it's eyes on me. I could +see no trace of it, though. + + + +The police came again, I guess they decided to take another look. +They inspected the place. They were dutiful and attentive, but my +hiding spot was too good. The stalker's must be even better. Soon +they left. + + + +The stalker was still here. + + + +Hours continued to crawl by like a wounded semi-truck limping down +a gravel road with a flat tire as oil, precious blood to the +vehicle, vomited forth from ruptured lines and leaving a death +trail on the rocks. My finger rested uneasily on the trigger of my +berretta. I had to be ready. + + + +I was startled to attention by the voice of the head librarian as +she picked up the phone and punched in a number. + + + +``Is this Luke Bavarious?'' I began to tremble. {\em No{\ldots} +no!} + + + +``This is Pamela Dufrost at the Metropolitan Library, we've been +hearing strange noises and it's frightening the +children{\ldots}'' + + + +As I felt the icy grip of fatalistic, militant terror grip my heart +I could hear laughter. Was it coming from my own lips? No, it +couldn't be! I screamed, the noise erupting from my throat +like vomit. + + + + + +Edit - I guess it has a very weak link to respecting children. Not +being a creepy time travelling stalker is an important message +right? + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Sexual Lorax} + + + +SummerGlaucoma posted: +{\bf {\em BAVARIOUS +REASONS}} + + + + +If your story doesn't make the cut, SG, your perfect title has to +for Horrors II. + + + +{\bf HORRORS II: {\em BAVARIOUS REASONS}} + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Phthalogreen} + + +{\bf Pearl} + + + +I stand in the shadow. The sounds have been coming again and again +for thirty years. I'm in the old folks' home on 42nd +Street in New York. Right by the alley where it all started. My +hand shakes slightly with my pain meds in my hand. + + + +Pearl, my ten-year-old granddaughter, sits on the bed across the +room. I keep my hat down and my collar up so she can't see my +face. I won't let her get any closer. I don't want her +to see what I've become. + + + +``Why won't you take your medicine, Grandpa?'' she +asks. + + + +``It won't help me,'' I say. ``There +isn't a cure for what I have.'' + + + +``It's okay, Grandpa,'' she says. ``You +don't have to take them if you don't want +to.'' + + + +Suddenly the nurse enters the room. Nurse Packard. She's the +old hag of the nursing home. Everyone hates her and everyone is +hated by her. + + + +``You there! What are you doing? Swallow those meds!'' +she shouts through the darkness. + + + +I look at the pills and hesitate. They are huge and taste +horrid. + + + +``That's it, I'll have to feed them to you!'' +Nurse Packard shouts again. + + + +``The pills don't help!'' Pearl cries. +``Don't you get it?'' + + + +``Quiet, kid,'' Nurse Packard yells. ``Turn +around,'' she says to me. + + + +``No. He's sick. You don't want him to turn +around,'' Pearl says. + + + +``Sure I do,'' she replies. ``Step out of the dark +and open your mouth.'' She doesn't know my mouth is +always open now. I stay put and pull my coat collar over my +chin. + + + +With that she runs towards me and commences her brutality, grabbing +the pills from my hand. I keep my head down, but her clipboard +smashes my head terribly powerful. + + + +``Grandpa!'' Pearl shouts. ``Stop it, you +hag!'' + + + +Nurse Packard ignores her. She giggles and forces her hand into my +mouth. The pills enter my throat. + + + +Unable to control myself, I inch forward. I feel the light on my +legs. Then my chest. Then my head. + + + +``Look away, Pearl!'' I shout. I lift my hat and Nurse +Packard screams at the sight of my scarred, purple face. + + + +As the pills enter my stomach I feel it turning and tightening. +Putrid vomit erupts from my mouth and nose and splatters on Nurse +Packard's face. As the old woman screams, something pops in +her head and she drops to the floor, twitching. The vomit keeps +gushing toward the wriggling body on the floor. + + + +Then my stomach is empty. I fall to my knees. My head is spinning. +But I hear Pearl's voice. + + + +``Grandpa!'' she says. I feel her grabbing my coat. + + + +``No! Don't look at my face!'' I shout. + + + +``It's okay, Grandpa,'' Pearl says. ``I saw +you. I never looked away.'' + + + +Suddenly I am sobbing. I realize I was wrong to assume she was +weak. She has the right to see her Grandpa's face. I turn and +look at her. + + + +``Grandpa,'' she says, hugging me. ``I want to know +something.'' + + + +``What, honey?'' I say. + + + +``What is your real name? Mommy won't tell +me.'' + + + +I think for a moment. Then I pick Pearl up and put her on my +lap. + + + +``My name,'' I say proudly, ``is Luke +Bavarious.'' + + + +[edit: typo fixes] + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Sleepless Dreamer} + + +Hmm, maybe there should be some blood vomit included{\ldots} + + + +{\bf Reunion Under a Blood Red Moon} + +The man stared at the figure wrapped in black sitting on the bench +in the middle of town at 3 in the morning. It was late, but he felt +it was his duty to talk to the lonely person who had seen better +days. After exchanging meaningless talk, the man in green asked the +man in black what placed him in this situation. + +``It all started when that Bavarius kid moved in the 3 story +house by the cemetery. That kid, Luke, was a curious little punk, +but he just turned the whole neighbourhood around with his +investigations. That little jerk was probably too smart for his own +good, and brighter than any of the people around him, including his +parents. That kid fancied himself a detective, and he was quite +good at his ``detecting'' work, especially for a 13 year +old boy who listened to no one but himself. He was smart, he was +the first one to see right through the facade that suburban life +provided, he knew how fake everything was.'' + +The man in green asked: ``so he spotted his mother cheating on +his father or something?'' + +The dark person replied: ``no, he had been aware of that for +quite a while, he simply realized what was happening in the +graveyard at night. The most of the neighbourhood would gather +around a specific grave, late at night, around this hour, and they +would chant horrible songs of death and despair. A black magic +ceremony of the darkest kind, celebrating horrors man should not +know. Luke was a kid, but he knew what was happening there +wasn't right. His parents wouldn't believe him, and his +older brother, Frank, just said Luke probably had imagined +everything. His brother didn't care; he was 16 and had +started dating a slutty girl. He was more concerned about that then +the darkness that surrounded their house.'' + +The man in green smiled and said: ``it sounds like Luke was +just in need of attention; he was probably a bit jealous his +brother had started dating. I've seen that a lot in my line +of work.'' + +The brooding figure replied: ``Luke didn't need these +easy girls to be happy, and he did not invent anything because he +needed attention. He was right. The whole street would gather, +planning human sacrifices. One night, Luke snuck out of his +bedroom, into the graveyard, and observed what was happening. There +was more people than usual, and on a grave that served as an altar, +a girl was bound and gagged{\ldots} Frank's girlfriend. The +ceremony started, and Luke tried to get under the altar to untie +the poor girl. That's when a familiar voice caught his +attention. He could not quite figure out who it was, the voice was +transformed by dark magics. That's when he heard a sound that +will be burned in his memory forever: the sound of the girl's +throat being sliced open. Blood dripped at first, but it eventually +pour over Luke, the blood of this poor girl sacrificed to a dark +god. Luke waited for an hour, and then snuck away from the mass and +washed himself before going back home. The next day, he asked his +brother about his girlfriend, but was told that they had broken up +the night before.'' + +The man in green said: ``that's quite a story +you've got there, do you need a place to spend the night, I +know a shelter, and I could start seeing you as a patient, you see, +I'm a psychiatrist.'' + +The man in black looked up and said in a grave voice: ``I know +what you are Frank. I know what you've become. You feed on +men and women's souls and masquerade as a psychiatrist. +I'm here to stop you. I've known it for years, but +I'm not a kid anymore, people listen.'' + +The man in green snarled: ``Who do you think you are? Luke? I +killed you years ago, I sliced you up like a pig on that altar. You +bleed and cried, you pissed your pants when the knife when through +you.'' + +The figure in black rose, the street lights revealing his pale +complexion, his emaciated figure, and the darkness in his eyes. He +said: ``you killed me, but you failed to make sure I was +dead.'' Luke grabbed frank by the throat and crushed his +airways. ``You are going to hell, where you will be devoured +slowly by the people you have killed, until all that is left of you +is blood, tears and pains. And it will start over for +eternity.'' The dying Frank let out one last airless shout as +his soul went to hell. + +Luke smiled and said to himself: ``Another job well done, and +now I can wear his skin to seem more human. I finally have a life +back.'' He looked up and saw Sandy, the girl his brother had +killed, waiting for him back to un-life like him. Things were +getting better. + +{\bf ALTERNATE ENDING:} + +Luke said to himself: ``They always fall for the zombie +make-up.'' He looked up and saw the ghost of his mother, who +asked: ``Are you sure that was Frank?'' Luke replied: +``Yes mother, thank you for guiding me to him, and for saving +my life when Frank tried to kill me.'' ``Don't +thank me, she replied, I've been with you ever since I died, +thank you for not taking these pills that make me +disappear.'' + +Luke smiled and said to no one in particular: ``Psychiatrists, +what do they know?'' + +* * * + + +I actually like the alternate ending more than the original one, +however the alternate one is closer to what I usually write. + + + +Hopefully I managed to make something bad and good at the same +time. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{TheSpiritFox} + + +Luke walked into his room. Man! What a shitty day. + + + +He hated this town. Ever since he'd been moved here, the days just +got longer and longer, more and more boring. From the hours long +train ride into the city to the four hours of processing to even +get past the train station, he'd been bored to tears for months +now. The shelling had begun two days ago, but it had yet to affect +his part of the city, so he ignored it like he ignored the usual +sounds of doors crashing down in the middle of the night. It was +never {\em his} door. He never got to play. + + + +He'd talked to his mother about it, asked her why their family +never got to have fun like everyone else's. Why they never got to +go on the vacations his parents told him about. Why the police +didn't come and take them fun places. She told him it was because +he was special. + + + +He hated being special. + + + +Luke heard the front door open and close, the lock clicking as two +sets of footsteps walked into the small apartment. + + + +Great. His parents were home. + + + +He heard hushed, worried voices, and his heart jumped. Thats how +all the neighbors always talked before they went on vacation. His +parents were probably worried about what to bring, since people +always had to say yes and go immediately without packing if they +wanted to get in on a vacation. A small vibration shook the +building, as he realized that the shelling had finally moved to +their part of the city. + + + +His mom had told him about the shells. They dropped pinata's into +the city which burst open, and people got to keep whatever they +grabbed out of it! He couldn't believe his luck, two events in one +day! Maybe when they left on vacation he'd pass near enough to a +shell to get to keep something. + + + +He hoped his luck was turning. + + + +There was a pounding on the door, and he burst out of his room +eagerly with his pillow and blanket. + + + +``Open up!'' a rough voice shouted. His parents gave frightened looks +back and forth, he knew they'd been caught unprepared. Luckily, he +was a practical kid, all he needed was stuff to sleep with. His +parents opened the door to see a guy in some wierd kind of mask +like science on his face. + + + +``You're to come with us. Now'' + + + +His parents obediently followed out the door, and Luke Bavarius +brought up the rear, his proud strut meant to show anyone who +watched that it was {\em his} turn now. He just knew that his +vacation would be far better than anyone else's had ever been. He +knew he was special, and he knew they'd only have made him wait +this long to prepare everything in advance. + + + +They walked out the front door of the building, and he walked right +into his mothers back as he saw what had frozen the policeman with +science on his face. Two shells sitting there waiting in the front +yard, freshly landed. + + + +Luke could not believe his good luck, in all his 10 years he'd +never gotten anything special for himself, and he could understand +how anyone would be frozen with excitement upon seeing not one, but +TWO untouched shells to be raided. + + + +Luke darted past his parents frozen forms to the leftmost shell and +eagerly peered inside it. A small form moved, and leaped out. Luke +ducked out of the way and turned, seeing a small four legged animal +standing on the ground. It didn't seem to have any eyes, but looked +at him just the same. + + + +``A pet!'' Luke thought. ``A pet! I've heard people used to have pets +but I never thought I'd have one of my own!'' + + + +Luke ran forward and grabbed the small animal before it had a +chance to move again, and heard the roar of a gun as a bullet +chipped the sidewalk not a foot from his foot. He looked up, the +science-police was pointing a gun at him! He wanted to shoot his +new pet! + + + +Luke turned and ran, dashing behind playground equipment as his +parents screamed at him to put down the ``headcrab'' + + + +``A headcrab?'' he wondered. ``So thats what you're called, little +guy'' he quietly muttered to his new pet, hiding behind a large +piece of playground equipment. + + + +``You'd better leave my pet alone! I'll make you sorry!'' he yelled, +mostly at the policeman. His parents were the ones who answered +though. + + + +``Luke! Please you don't know whats going on! That thing's +dangerous!'' + + + +Luke stared incredulously at his new companion, and shouted back +``Why are you always trying to take everything away from me? Why +can't I have one thing, just ONE THING that other people have? If +I'm so special why am I always left out?!'' + + + +He knew he'd need his hands to get away, so he set his new pet down +on its four spiky legs and shushed it, telling it to calm down. It +kept trying to sit on his head though, and luke eventually relented +with a sigh, thinking it would be easier to have it sitting up +there than on his arms. + + + +As soon as his new pet gained its throne, he felt a funny tickle at +the back of his neck. Suddenly, he couldn't move. He felt strange +little tendril-tickles under his skin and looked down to see his +veins growing, then eventually shattering and strange tendrils of +skin that looked kind of like his pet grew out of them instead. He +could see his skin rotting before his eyes, but it didn't hurt, so +it didn't scare him. + + + +On the contrary, he felt strong. Luke was amazed at how he suddenly +felt like he could lift a car or jump 15 feet in the air without +trying. + + + +His amazement was shattered a moment later as a flurry of bullets +tore through the playground area he'd just been hiding behind. But +before the first bullet was through the material enough to hit him, +he was eight feet away in a crouch. + + + +It was a flash, but a very clear one. He felt like he could +remember each individual fraction of the half a second it had taken +him to dodge the bullets. But his wonder quickly turned to +anger. + + + +The science police was trying to kill them both! Red rage caused +his heart to accelerate to a hummingbird like rate and a curtain +fell across his vision as he realized that science police wasn't +trying to take him anywhere fun, that in fact science police was +about to take away the only thing he'd ever truly loved. He sprang +completely over the playground equipment and charged straight at +the man. He saw the man shoot twice, felt the impacts and watched +skin and gore fall off of his body in equal amounts, but to him it +was no different than running into a mosquito that was flying +forward intending to bite. + + + +He leaped again, and crashed down on the policeman. He knocked the +science off his face and stabbed a hand down at his head. He was +strong, his hand went completely through the policeman's head and +cracked the concrete below. Luke looked down at the mingled brain +and rotting arm, and vomited up a small amount of bile. + + + +He immediately swallowed it, as his face was covered by his +headcrab. + + + +Still enraged, he turned to see both of his parents there. They +were in on it too. They had stood there and let the science police +try to take his new pet headcrab away. + + + +He roared inarticulately as he hurled himself at them, stabbing at +their chests with both of his new, stronger arms. His hands went +through, and his parents stared down at him in horror. + + + +He could feel their pulsing hearts in his hand. He looked into +their eyes (strange, how he could see them through his pet's body) +and said ``I told you you'd be sorry'' + + + +They were. You should always listen to your kids. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Lord Humongus} + + +{\bf The Cellar Of Death} + + + +Luke walked down the house's scarred walls. The place was full of +hate, he could + +feel it tingling in his bones. Like some sort of hate filled +bastard feeling. {\em Filled with hate.} he dismissed the +thought. + + + +His parents were moving thier stuff into the old, creaking hate +filled house. Luke ran up to his obseqious parents, warnings of +hate emerging from his mouth accompanied by the screeches of +horror. His abusive father slapped him in the face and told him to +``Quit it, you dumb pecker.'' Luke couldn't. He had to warn +them. + + + +Luke looked for anything to defend himself from the evil, but he +found nothing. He looked throughout the house for something. Only +to + +come up empty handed. He walked out of the door wondering about +what he could do. + + + +He ran into Suzy, his sister, she teased him and called him a +pussy. {\em She called me a cat that's not insulting why would she +call me + +a cat?} thought Luke. + + + +The sun hid under the horizion. The screams of animals filling the +empty night air. Luke arose from his bed. Suddenly a illmunescent +gigantic head appeared in his room. It opened its lips to talk. All +Luke could feel was hate in his brain. + +Nasty, painful hate. + + + +Luke awoke in his bed in the morning. He ran down to his parents +screaming and screeching like some annoying owl. His father rose +his hand. Luke closed his mouth shut. + + + +He wandered down into the lone cold cellar of the hate house. +Looking for clues as to what was causing so much hate. He looked +around the + +dusty cold floors. His came upon an old case full of dust. He +opened the golden latches, looking for anything that might be a +clue. Inside, + +was a horrible book. He knew what must cause the hate. This book. +He threw it into the evening fire that was in the fireplace. His +dad slapped him in the face for doing that but he thought to +himself ``I just saved your life you fool.'' and smiled to himself +because he was so smart and stuff and found out about the +hate. + + + +But it didn't work he was wrong. The hate returned each night, and +each day Luke received a slap to the face for being an annoying +little mutant. He slept scared under his covers each night the +horrible head would return to him and use all the hate and torture +him with its 's telepathic mind full of hate and ire. He awoke +every morning screaming at nothing. Until one night, he heard his +parents scream. He ran to thier room to see them being dragged into +a portal. A portal to hoboken. Luke laughed at them as they were +sucked into a trailer park abyss. Full of people you didnt want to +hang out with because they are all hate filled evil creatures from +the third nuclear war. + + + +He hid the bodys in his bavarious cellar. + + + +They should've listened! + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Tufty} + + + +Sexual Lorax posted: +If your story doesn't make the cut, SG, your perfect +title has to for Horrors II. + + + +{\bf HORRORS II: {\em BAVARIOUS +REASONS}} + + + + +Whaddaya mean make the cut? The entries shouldn't be whittled down +to a select few to be put into the sequel. Do you think if the +original works of Ben Biddick were placed among others and +critiqued and compared they would have ever been published? Of +course not! To do so to the stories in this thread would be +entirely unfaithful to the whole {\em point} of Horrors, and would +be disrespectful to Ben Biddick. The entries here are unbound +creativity and imagination distilled into its purest form, and all +of them deserve a place in Horrors 2. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{King Plum the Nth} + + +To be fair, I don't really think I managed the style of Ben Biddick +and I don't really expect to compete here. But I'd like to think I +captured the spirit. At least, I had too much fun writing this not +to post it. + +* * * + +I'd never been to San Diego before. Never been further west +than Iowa. But I like to travel and I like my job, so when my job +called on me to travel, I packed my Beretta and bought a one way +ticket to SoCal. One way because, in my line of work, you can never +be sure if you'll be coming back. My name is Luke Bavarious, +I'm a private detective and this is the story of how I died. + + + +The bus disgorged its wretched few passengers into a diseased +corner of the city. In some ways, all cities are the same, and San +Diego was no different. You won't find a bus depo or the +train station in a nice part of town. No, the rich white folk pawn +this stuff off on the poor blacks. As if their urban lives +weren't hard enough; the man sweeps all his dirt under the +rug of the black culture's communities. + + + +I hadn't been on the streets of San Diago more than ten +minutes when I was mugged the first time. + + + +``The fuck you doin' in our neighborhood, +whitie?'' + + + +I could've cried. There were four of them. They were tough, +angry black youths, and if they pushed this too far, they'd +get hurt. ``Just passing through,'' I said. + + + +``Passing like a piece of shit, mo'fucker. Gotta pay to +walk our streets.'' + + + +``It's public property,'' I didn't break eye +contact. Like dealing with an angry dog, when you talk to a gang +member, you can't show fear. ``I'm the public. Let +me past,'' I unbuttoned my jacket, flashed my Beretta. +``There's doesn't have to be any +trouble.'' + + + +The kid, their leader, lifted the hem of his hoody with a slow +insolent gesture to show off his own piece, a Glock. Two of the +others reached for the back of their waist bands. I tried again, +using their language: ``Don't start none, won't be +none.'' I'd tried in vein. + + + +``Stupid mo'fucker.'' The leader jerked his piece +from his pants. His draw was admirably fast. These kids knew +violence, they were born it, it was their legacy. A cold, harsh +society had turned an indifferent shoulder to them and they had +risen to the challenge, becoming the only thing they could be in +this city. They were tough, but I was professional. My Beretta +barked four times, once for each of them, and the fight was over +before it began. They weren't dead, but they couldn't +threaten me anymore. I moved on. Violence isn't the answer, +but sometimes it can teach a lesson that needs to be learned. + + + +The lady, Kelly, my client back in New York, had told me all about +San Diego. Said her old man had taken her and her sister, Amy, +there after the divorce. Kelly'd been a little girl, the +sister was a baby. ``The kids at my new school,'' she +said, ``taught me fast. My first day, they told me it +wasn't smart to wear so much red.'' We made love for +hours that night. It was glorious but I never felt like she was +really there under me. She was that little girl again, scared to +finish her first day at school in that pretty red dress. + + + +So she'd gotten old enough and run away, all the way to New +York City. But her baby sister, fifteen now, was still trapped with +the father. Still trapped in San Diego. She'd hired me to go +find her, save her, and bring her back. ``He won't give +you any trouble, Luke. Just make sure you see him during the day. +He works at night.'' She'd paid me in cash and her +body. + + + +I found the little cinderblock house she'd described and I +knocked at the door. The only answer was a dog barking in the next +yard. I walked around the front yard a bit, looked and saw I +wasn't being watched, and slipped around the corner of the +house. I let myself into the fenced off back yard, peering in +windows as I passed. The place looked deserted. Around back, I +found a narrow concrete stairway leading down to a basement door. I +figured what the hell and went down the stairs and tried the door. +It was open. I went in. + + + +It was gloomy and smelled damp and it looked pretty empty. All I +saw was a couple of cardboard boxes, a water heater, a couple of +coffins. ``What the hell?!'' Curiosity is a big part of +my job but I wish I hadn't given into it then. I walked over +to the first coffin, lifted the lid. There was the too fresh body +of a man, thirty something, long black hair pulled straight back +from the temples, a trickle of blood running down from his livid +lips. I stared, shocked, and as I did, his eyes snapped open. +Before I could do more than gasp his hand was on my throat. + + + +``Who are you,'' he demanded. ``What do you +want?'' + + + +``Your daughter,'' I choked. ``She sent +me.'' + + + +``My daughter?'' His eyes glanced to my right. +``She's right there.'' I looked as best I could and +saw a young woman, the spitting image of my client but a decade +younger. + + + +``Oh,'' he said, rising from his coffin. ``You mean +the traitor.'' + + + +``She said{\ldots}'' I was choking to death in his grasp. +I produced the Beretta, painfully slow, but it was like he wanted +me to shoot him. I squeezed off the last few shots, right into his +gut. He didn't so much as flinch. + + + +``I know what she said,'' he said. ``She said I was +harsh. That I abused them.'' He grimaced horribly and his eye +teeth erected into fangs. ``But she never understood. You have +to be tough to live in a city like this, Mr. Bavarious. I only +wanted to make my little girls tough.'' The world was fading, +purple splotches exploding in my vision. ``Amy will show you +what I mean.'' The girl hissed, drawing her lips back from +cobra-like fangs. + + + +{\ldots}I guess you wouldn't say I died exactly. Could a dead +man tell you his tale? But that's the story of how I stopped +living. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{jidohanbaiki} + + +I'm really getting a hankering for some Luke Bavarious ``Choose Your +Own Adventure.'' + + + +{\bf Take Baretta}- go to page 12 + +{\bf Take both Barettas} - go to page 13 + +{\bf Vomit bullets out of Barettas} - go to page 25 + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Irish Joe} + + +{\bf The Boy That Lived} + + + +It all started when Luke Bavarious was aroused by a knock at his +door. ``Who is it?'' the mighty detective shouted from the comfort of +his bed. No answer but the sound of more knocking. Disgruntled, +Luke raised himself to his feet, still wavering from a night of +heavy drinking. ``Damn you all'' he shouted, approaching the door. +Leaning against the frame, he began to undo the lock when a shot +rang out. Looking down he saw a smoking crater where his peep hole +used to be. Thanking God he was too hung over to see anything, let +alone use his peep hole, Luke staggered back from the door and +reached for his Magnum Revolver lying on the coffee table. + + + +The second shot didn't startle the brilliant gumshoe as much as the +vintage leather Ottoman lying between him and his gun. Falling head +first into the coffee table, Luke was barely able to grab his +Magnum Revolver, roll over, cock and fire the gun twice at the man +kicking in his front door before he passed out. + + + +Luke awoke in the darkness of a car trunk. 'Its eerily quiet,' the +great protagonist remarked to himself. He then felt a sudden warmth +on the back of his leg. Luke reached around his muscular thighs to +feel about and find the source of the warmth. Blood! A second man +lie with Bavarious in the trunk. Before he could ponder further +upon this discovery, the car ground to a halt. Luke furiously +grabbed at the darkness searching for something, anything that +could be used as a weapon. As the mysterious driver exited the car +and approached the rear, Luke grasped on to the only thing he could +find, a large black iron tire iron. + + + +The rattle of keys. The click of a lock. The sound of fury and +bone, crushing and yelping, cries of disbelief, anger and surprise. +Then silence as Luke Bavarious stood alone. + + + +The awesome dick did not know who the two men were: one lying +bloodied on the ground with grey matter strewn to and fro on the +road, the other in the trunk, intestines drooping from a Magnum +hole in his stomache and half his face missing from one in his +head. It did not matter, for though it may sound strange to you, +dear reader, the fickle nature of Lady Death was all too familiar +to Luke Bavarious. She has pusued him with a vengence since the day +he was born all those years ago in an abortion clinic. 'The Boy Who +Lived' they called him. Lady Death had another name for him, 'The +One That Got Away." She tried as she might to catch him throughout +the years: car crashes, earthquakes, sicknesses and contagions, +shipwrecks. However, nothing could kill Luke Bavarious. And as the +trail of bodies he leaves behind continues to grow it seems that +nothing ever will. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Dirty Sanchez} + + +{\bf A Tin of Popcorn} + + + +``He was right, three left,'' I said aloud, my own voice startling me +as it broke the silence of the restroom. ``Not very many but they're +gonna have to do''. I lined the shells up on the sink like stalwart +little soldiers and paused for a moment to make sure nothing heard +me. I need to stop talking to myself. + + + +``Won't be enough,'' the voice in my head replied. ``You saw what +happened to that deer. Three or Thirty, it won't be enough.'' + + + +The deer. The memories came back to me in a flood. Its hard to +believe that just this afternoon we were fooling around, shooting +cans by the campsite and sitting by the fire. + + + +It all started with a can of overpriced popcorn. You know the kind, +one half covered with a powdery orange substance that's supposed to +be cheese and the rest a solid brick of caramel and popcorn that +requires an ice pick to break apart. The popcorn itself was not my +problem but rather the scrawny kid who brought it. Timmy was his +name, or was it Tommy? It doesn't matter. All that mattered were my +Captain's words to me in his office that morning. + + + +``The Commissioner feels that we need to do more for the community,'' +He said. ``I volunteered you to take a boy scout troop camping this +weekend.'' + + + +``You're joking,'' I replied. + + + +``I never joke. You know that. Besides,'' He continued, ``Bavarius, +you've been a little weird since you returned to duty and you're +making everyone around here uneasy. Doing this will show you're +just a regular guy.'' + + + +``A regular guy,'' a voice echoed in my mind. ``I wish.'' + + + +``When?'' I asked. + + + +``Saturday.'' + + + +``I'm busy.'' + + + +``Not any more. He will be here in a little while and they said he's +bringing you a gift. Make sure you smile.'' + + + +Sure enough, about two hours later a kid showed up with the can, a +bandanna, and an invitation to join them camping. He was a +squirrelly little fellow, who seemed to be as uncomfortable as I +was. Despite how ridiculous the situation, I determined to make the +best of it. What else could I do? + + + +After shaking hands with the little guy and feigning gratitude, I +asked him where we were going. + + + +``Timber wolf lake.'' He replied. + + + +``I don't have any camping gear.'' + + + +``Oh, you don't have to bring anything, well have all the gear you +need. But don't forget to bring the popcorn.'' + + + +``This popcorn?'' I replied. I had no intention of eating the +garbage. Maybe I could give it away. + + + +``Yes,'' he said, looking me straight in the eyes. ``Don't forget it. +Its a tradition.'' + + + +``I'm really not much for traditions,'' I said with a smirk. + + + +``Its very Important.'' + + + +``Uh, Ok,'' I replied, still smirking. + + + +``Great! See you Saturday. Nine O'clock,'' he said and bolted out the +door. + +``That boy looks like a frightened animal,'' the voice in my head +remarked. + + + +Saturday morning came and I dragged myself out of bed hung over and +smelling like the floor of a frat house basement. I showered, threw +on my clothes, and ran out the door. I would be late but at least I +would show up. Good thing I didn't have to pack anything. + + + +When I finally arrived I was greeted by a pack of impatient and +excited boys and one pale, stern looking gentleman, who I could +only assume was their troop leader. + + + +``Sorry,'' I mumbled. ``I'm not much for early mornings or +camping.'' + + + +``Don't worry about it,'' he offered. ``Thanks for coming. The rangers +won't let us camp here without a police escort. Not since those +campers disappeared last year. If you didn't come we could'nt go at +all.'' + + + +``Glad I could help,'' I lied. ``I'm Luke. Luke Bavarius.'' + + + +``Pleased to meet you Luke. I'm Tim.'' + + + +With the formalities out of the way, he rounded up his group and we +began our hike. After a few hours of walking my mind cleared and I +began to observe my fellow campers. A very unusual bunch. There +were eight of them. They all appeared to be about ten years old, +blond, and skinny. And there was something else. They were all very +quiet and jumpy. Once, shortly we passed the last park restroom, I +stepped upon and broke a stick which shattered the silence of our +hike. All eight boys stopped simultaneously, their heads snapping +toward me in unison. A second later, they seemed to realize what +they had done, put their heads down and continued walking. + + + +``Creepy.'' the voice in my head commented. But what do I know about +kids? + + + +We finally arrived at the campsite. The boys, a flurry of quick +movements, erected the tents, hung up the food, and gathered fire +wood. When the work was done they left me sitting on a log alone as +they went off to do whatever it is young boys do on a camping trip. +I took a second and looked around. The air out here was fresh and +invigorating. The temperature was perfect, the sky was blue, there +were sounds of nature everywhere. Suddenly feeling good for the +first time in ages, I picked up a discarded soda can and walked +down to where the boys were. Pulling my side arm out of my pant leg +I yelled ``Who wants to learn to shoot?'' + + + +Suddenly, the boys were all just standing there looking at me with +a blank expression. ``You brought your gun?'' Tim asked. + + + +``Habit, I guess.'' I replied. + + + +``You have much ammo?'' He asked. + + + +``Twenty rounds.'' + + + +``Come here boys,'' he said loudly ``Mr. Luke is going to show you how +to shoot.'' + + + +The boys gathered around me and I put on a show. First they wanted +to see me hit the can from ten paces. Then, twenty paces. Next they +pointed out a log in the lake they wanted me to shoot. It seemed +that they couldn't get enough of watching me blow things apart. I +have to admit, I was enjoying it too. I also was working up an +appetite. + + + +``So there you go boys,'' I announced. + + + +``Come on!'' a boy shouted. + + + +``Keep going!'' another added. + + + +``I'd like to boys,'' I said, ``but I'm almost out of bullets.'' + + + +``You have three left.'' said the smallest boy, who seemed to be the +troop leader's son and was opening his mouth for the first time +since asking me to go with them. + + + +``Maybe another time guys, I'm hungry.'' I said, ending the debate. +We walked back to the campsite and settled in for the night. + + + +After a dinner of half-cooked hotdogs and baked beans heated in the +can, the silence settled back in and the sun began to go down. Tim, +the troop leader stood up to speak. + + + +``Boys, I think it is time for dessert. Son, do you have the tin of +popcorn?'' + + + +``I, um, already gave it to him dad.'' + + + +``Oh. You didn't happen to bring it with you, did you Luke?'' + + + +``I'm sorry,'' I said sheepishly. ``I was in a hurry.'' + + + +Tim glared at his son who turned paler than usual and stared down +at his feet. ``Never mind then!'' he shouted. ``Bed time, +everyone!'' + + + +Without a word Tim and the boys turned and quickly disappeared into +their tents. Suddenly alone, I turned and walked to the tent that +had been designated as mine and laid down on the cool sleeping bag. +As I lay there the day's activity seemed to catch up to me and I +drifted off to sleep. + + + +The sound that awoke me was like nothing I had heard before. It was +a sound of pure, primal terror. Instinctively, I jumped to my feet, +grabbed my Beretta and entered the darkness. The moon was full and +high in the sky. With the fire burned out and no other light +sources I could see quite clearly and distinctively. Too +clearly. + + + +A flash of movement about fifty yards from the tent caught my eye, +but it took me a few moments to figure out what I was seeing. It +was a deer, running with something hanging off the side of it. It +was now making a gurgling sound as the creature attached to it tore +at its throat. In a heap the deer went down. I could hear it being +torn apart. I pulled my gun and shouted at the creature, thinking +it was a mountain lion or coyote. It looked up at me and in the +light of the moon and I realized what I was looking at. Or, perhaps +I should say, WHO I was looking at. There, perched on the +disemboweled buck was a young human-like creature in a Boy Scout +uniform. Blood dripping from fangs that protruded from his mouth, +he seemed to be sizing me up while also staring at my gun. The +sound of breaking brush began to come from all around me. I had a +choice to make. Fight or flight. I made a break for it. + + + +In the moonlight I could see the trail we hiked out on almost as +clearly as I could during the day. The adrenaline flowing through +my veins allowed me to run faster and further than I had since my +days in the marine corps. At first I thought I could hear someone +behind me, but eventually there was nothing but the sound of my own +footsteps. I rounded a bend in the trail and saw in the distance +the restroom that we passed on the way to the campsite. Unable to +run any longer, I lunged for the door, found it unlocked, and dove +inside, latching it behind me. + + + +The restroom only had one door and no windows. I was cornered but +at least I only had to defend a single point of entry. I ejected +the clip from my pistol and counted the rounds. Only three rounds +left. + + + +``Won't be enough,'' the voice in my head replied. ``You saw what +happened to that deer. Three or Thirty, it won't be enough.'' + + + +``I'm afraid there is more than three of us,'' the voice behind me +says. I can feel the hot breath and sets of eyes on me. + + + +``If you only ate the popcorn we prepared for you then you would +still be asleep right now,'' another voice, a child's voice, says +from the shadows. + + + +``I'm not much for traditions,'' I whisper as the teeth close upon my +throat. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{O Tempora! O Mores!} + + +The first story! + + + +The bottle had clouded the room almost as much as the cigars. I +could hardly breathe without inhaling more smoke---it was so bad, +the door opening barely shifted the fog. But that may have just +been my mind. + +``I got a case for you,'' he said. ``I been lookin' for this girl +goin' on three weeks now. You find her, you bring 'er to me. For +your trouble,'' and he tossed a stack of bills on the table. The +sound was like a sledgehammer to the skull. ``You got a picture,'' I +asked, the words slurring together in a muddle. He tossed a +polaroid on the table, the sound like a smack to the face. The door +closed, and I passed out. + +When I woke up, I was surprised that I didn't choke on the fog in +the room, as thick as it was, and at least now I could see the door +again, with its golden-painted name: Luke Bavarious, P.I. I rolled +out of the chair, and watched the room spin. I'd hit the bottle +hard last night, and I felt the bile rising. I forced it back down, +my head spinning. I stood up, and picked up the picture. She was +pretty, I'd give the man that. But that smile{\ldots} she liked fun. She +liked a lotta fun. I turned it over, and saw a string of numbers +written there. It was too long for a phone number{\ldots} Wait. +One-two-three{\ldots} Ten digits. Four. Two. Three. A number and an +address? This guy coulda picked her up himself. What'd he need me +for? + +I picked up the stack of bills, and headed for the door. I grabbed +my coat as I meandered past, and the bills. Past due. Past due. +Late. Hmm{\ldots} this one was already paid for? Since when had I paid a +bill? Advertisement. That damn client who wanted another look +around. Hey. Here's the place. Damn fine building for a pretty +little girl. + +I got up to the door, and knocked. A soft voice called, ``Come in,'' +and I did. She wasn't wearing much, and it was cool in there. Damn, +but she was pretty. And that was a thin little slip to be wearing +with company, but hey, who cared, it was just us. She walked over, +smiling slightly, and asked, ``Are you looking for me?'' ``A man asked +me to find you, and gave me this picture{\ldots}'' I said, but my mind +wasn't on what I was saying, she was too fine to think about +anything else. I'd been alone a long time, and here she was, +standing real close. + +``Aww, don't be all about the work,'' she said, her smile suggesting +such exquisite delights, and her dark, seductive eyes pulling me +into an intimate embrace of desire and pleasure. I felt passion +stirring lazily, swelling in my chest, like an exceptionally loud +burp, but always finding more room to fill, until it finally took +up all of the space it could manage, as it got more and more +intense. Like a storm ravaging my soul, it burned in me, a desire +to have her, this pretty little thing. She saw my need, my want, +and opened her mouth, to say the affirmation that already was +showing through the way her bosom swelled with air, stretching the +thin fabric to its limits, threatening to release her breasts like +racehorses from the starting line, until it suddenly did, and the +smooth skin made me lose track of my own senses, as her smile +deepened and she pulled me close, her soft but firm body pressed +against mine, our two forms moving as one towards the room, satin +sheets already on the bed, a heaven of fabric and lust. + +She pulled off my trenchcoat without my noticing, as I undid the +buttons on the back of her slip. Her hands pushed aside the ruffles +of my shirt as she looked for the buttons, like a man running his +fingers through sand to find his glasses lens. I didn't notice she +had undone the buttons until her hands wound through my chest hair, +tugging like a rider at a horse, and pulled me down, as somehow, +like a magician's trick, my pants were lying on the chair, and my +boxers too. She wasn't wearing much under the slip at all, mostly +just skin. There was a little darkening of hair, but my, she had a +fine body. Athletic, too. She knew what she was doing, and I got +lost in the flow, the rhythm, the back-and-forth of it all, as a +flower of light blossomed in my mind, my eyes closed in ecstatic +pleasure and joy as I felt like new life had flowed into my aching +bones and washed away everything that was wrong, and she squealed a +sound of pure delight that rang like a bell in my mind with a +sparkling love and glory as I dropped away, exhausted. + +Waking up was hard after what had gone on before, but I managed to +pull myself together enough to smell the iron and the sticky-sweet +smell. My eyes opened, and I saw red. Lots of red, all over the +mirrors and the walls and the ceiling and spilled onto the +bedsheets where we had lain the night before. The room stank of +blood, as I saw spatters across the dresser and sprays on the +mirror, which had dripped down some, and traced red trails across +my image. As I moved on the bed, it squished with blood and oozed +out red, onto the already soaked sheets and into the dark red pool +around me. I saw her body on the floor, bullet holes riddling her +side, and still somehow pumping out the gory flood, slowly, pump{\ldots} +pump{\ldots} {\ldots} pump-{\ldots} as the dark red dried around her, and all over +the room it still rolled down, a sad end to a pretty girl like +her. + +I was back where it all started, in the office. There was more +smoke this time, it was like a dream. The booze burned, but not as +much as the memory of her lying there, her vital fluids pumping out +onto the floor, already drowning in blood. She had been so pretty, +too{\ldots} I reached for another bottle, and forgot the glass this +time. It wasn't like it was the taste that mattered anymore, it was +the forgetting. I pulled out more tobacco, and added a little extra +from my hidden drawer. I needed to get rid of these memories. The +smoke was different now, the taste was more bitter, but I didn't +care. She would go away. As the haze took everything, she walked +through the fog and everything else faded, but she was clear. She +stood there, pretty as she was when I saw her first, and wearing a +little black silk thing too, it was so thin and sheer, you could +see every detail, and my, wasn't she fine. She started to pull it +off, and slowly, slowly, it dropped to the floor, too softly to +hear. She turned, and started to dance. I just wanted to forget. +Here she was. Relief. I wanted her to go away. Release. Let me +forget you, I wanted to scream. Let me die in peace! The smoke was +acrid now, burning and black. The pain was fleeting, and the dark +was better. The room was painted red, a red fog that spread through +the smoke to coat the wall, and pour out onto the floor, a sticky, +dark red pool that shined lazily under the swinging light. + +fin. + + + + + +The second story! + + + + + +I stood at the corner of Selby and Rice glaring at the bright neon +sign hanging over The Purple Mermaid Motel. + +``Years of being a private detective and this is all I +get?'' I swore under my breath and gracefully walked through +the revolving doors. The dim lighting over the front desk glowed +ominousness, casting shadows on the stained carpet over the cheap +linoleum flooring. I curled my lip and walked cautiously to the +small man perched on a bar stool and gazing down on the desk, only +moving to adjust his glasses and scratch something with a ball +point pen. + +``Excuse me, are you David Dawson?'' I asked placing my +hands on the counter, attempting to look intimidating. I quickly +removed my hands noticing a large cockroach scuttling along the +banister. + +``Yeah, who want's ta know?'' he continued to look down +rather than up at my face, which was frustrating to begin with, but +to actually question who I was{\ldots} that was another +frustration. + +`` Luke Bavarious, Privet detective, per your request.'' +I could feel my lips tightening into a straight line as I held on +to the 't' entirely too long. Dawson turned up to face me, a mask +of filth covered his what I assumed white skin and his blue eyes +seemed magnified by his horribly dirty spectacles. + +``Yea' came sooner than I espected.'' he stood up and +walked from behind the desk to shake my hand. He shook my hand +entirely too long and pressed his body unnaturally close to me in a +hug. I restrained myself from pushing him away and walking out of +this cheep rat hole, the money was too good to turn away. + +``That's what I'm known for'' I muttered, looking around +the room for some clue as to the 'disturbance' + +``What seems to be the problem?'' I asked, my voice +taking on the familiar tone of compassion and intrigue. + +``Well, some of my regular guest{\ldots}'' there are GUESTS in +this place let alone regulars? ``say they've been hearin' +some{\ldots}'' he paused to think of the word. + +``Sounds?'' I supplied and he nodded. + +``Damn you are good{\ldots}'' I suppressed the desire to roll +my eyes and simply smiled at the complement. ``Well, I was +hopin' you could make us{\ldots}comfortable again, putten our minds at +rest, ya know?'' oh it would take more than a simple sweep to +put my mind at rest in this place{\ldots} I nodded again and dazzled him +with my 'everything-will-be-okay' smile. + +``Show me to the room.'' + +* * * + +I unpacked my tool kit and began scanning the room for simple +signs; rats, roaches, people playing tricks. Luckily, I couldn't +find anything that pointed towards rats and roached, but the idea +of someone leaning into the paper thin walls and creating an 'eerie +sound' made me satisfied. I decided to spend one night in the room +to make sure I was right. Easiest \$400 I've ever made{\ldots} my +thoughts trailed off as I slipped into the semi-attractive bed and +shut off the light. Quickly, I turned it back on and strained my +ears. Calm yourself{\ldots} don't get so worked up. I shrugged my +shoulders and turned the light off for the second time. Nestling +into the pillow, I shut my eyes tight and concentrated on my +breathing. + +``lllluuuukkkkkeee'' I sat up straight and looked around +the darkened room. I chuckled softly to myself, the room being +entirely too small for another body to go unnoticed. I shrugged +again and settled back into my routine. + +``lllllllluuuuuuuuuukkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee'' I +turned the light on one more time and jumped out of the bed. There +is only a logical explanation for this. The only person in this +piece of crap is Dawson, which must mean he is behind the wall{\ldots} I +silently grabbed my gun and slid a magazine into the belt, leaning +against the wall I positioned myself. I kicked the wall and the +plaster gave way with ease, taking one look inside the hollow wall +my mouth ran dry. + +12:21 Standing before me was a large man's body, or what was left. +The eyes were removed and caked blood filled the outer rim of the +sockets, his teeth were broken and jagged inside his mouth, lips +torn off to reveal rotting flesh and maggots. My skin crawled as he +opened his mouth once more and uttered my name. + +``llllllllluuuuuuuuuukkkkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeeee'' my eyes +widened in horror and I rushed out of the room, leaving my tools +and clothing behind I dashed down the stairway and into the main +room. + +``Dija fix it?'' Dawson asked, holding up the money. I +grabbed the bills and rushed out the door without a word, quickly +across the street and into the bar. + +``I quit'' I muttered, ordering my first round. + +I had barely begun my first drink before I heard it. + +``llllllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuuukkkkkkkkkkeeeeee'' I felt my +heartbeat quicken, my pulse erratic and sweat start to pound from +my veins. He's here? My thoughts seemed childish and rhetorical, of +course he was. I took a shallow and shaky breath, hands and lip +quivering in fear, stood up and walked towards the door. I threw a +twenty on the counter and pushed my way through the doors. There he +stood in the glow of the parking lot, flesh falling off as he +stood. + +``lllllllllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuuuuukkkkkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeee'' +I cocked my gun and fired one, two, three. I could feel the fire +back effect and emptied my clip into the corpse. He only smiled, or +what I thought would be, and opened his mouth again, saliva +dripping down onto the concrete. My heart thudded against my chest, +ragged breathing tearing through me like a cold blade. I threw my +gun to the side, useless to me now, and closed my eyes. You can do +it! I urged myself forward and threw myself on top of him. My fists +met flesh, tearing and ripping at the body in an attempt to ward it +away. My eyes shut tightly, I continued to pound my fists into the +cold man hoping that this would finally take his retched face from +my memories. I dug through my pocket and took out my switchblade, +releasing the blade I stabbed and ripped at the face tearing it +apart before my very eyes. + +12:46 +``lllllllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuukkkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeee'' I +stabbed and stabbed and stabbed until the body ceased and the mouth +released one final word. + +``Luke?'' I opened my eyes and saw Dawson laying in a +bloody pile under me, his face ripped to shreds by{\ldots}my blade. I +glanced around for the body of the cold man, but I couldn't find it +anywhere. My heart began to pound again, filling my ears with +rushing blood, drowning out the screams and chants of the gathered +spectators. I barely noticed the cuffs being slapped on my shaking +wrists or the rough push into the white van. As I gazed out the +small window in the van I heard short breathing and a slight +chuckle. Slowly I turned my head and gazed into the eyes of the +corpse. + +``llllllllllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuuuukkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeee'' + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Pro-Swordbro} + + +{\bf Nobodys Savior} + + + +My grandma always said I'd be nothing. I'd approach her with an +aspiration, she'd mock, criticize; ``You're too dumb to be an +astronaut'', ``How you gonna rap if you don't know meters?''. She was +french. + + + +I miss her. + + + +I am a police officer. My name is Luke Bavarious, badge number +\#25912. I used to freelance, I saw the worst this cruel polluted +world could offer me. Drug users; marijuana in their veins and +hatred in their eyes, crooked cops who took bribes and sold justice +to the highest bidder, I think I even saw a man with a tail +once. + + + +However, what worried me most was what was staring back at me in +the mirror. + + + +I bought a new gun recently. From some punk kid in an alley, handed +him a couple crumpled twenties, he handed me this Beretta. It felt +solid in my hands, the metal was cold, cold as this goddamn +December night. I walked out toward 42'nd street with a fresh bulge +in my coat pocket. Something had happened here, the memories +wouldn't come. They rarely do. It's hard to hold on. + + + +My last night in my practice was in this neighborhood, I thought. +Probably busting some drug ring, mabye saved some old lady from a +mugger, or some old drunkard from himself. + + + +Word around town is someone's killing kids. Stabbing them with a +knife, impaling them from behind. A child told me, his name was +Julian. When I heard this I vomited. According to this kid, someone +with a cross on his neck and a knife in his hand was following him +and his little friend. Julian's mom came to pick him up, he begged +the mom to take his friend home. The man had made himself scarce. +Him and the mom drove off. + + + +I gazed around with my eyes, everything was quiet, it was still; it +was as still as it was quiet. How am I going to find this +sonofabitch? The police sure as hell aren't, the ones who are not +incompetent are all marijuana addicts, no help they are. + + + +It was up to me, Luke Bavarious, badge number \#25912 to find this +demon, to avenge these horrible deaths. + + + +My phone rang. ``Just let it ring Bavarious, whoever it is would +provide no help'' + +RING + +RING + +RING + +I surrendered to it, flipped it open. + + + +Luke. + +Yes? + +I might have something on that knife wielding maniac you are always +talking about. + +What? + +Some guy with a crucifix was murmuring to himself near Biddick +Park, this afternoon. + +*click* + + + +It was a few hours until morning, The sky was vomiting snow as I +walked to my apartment, the snow crunched under my combat +boots. + + + +I haven't eaten in days, I can't keep anything down. I tried to +watch TV. Something scary was on, It was alright. + +As I got up after the movie ended, I could practically swear I saw +a face in the window. A face. + + + +I'm losing it. + + + +I gazed at the clock, it was 6 at night. Where had the time +went? + + + +The stairs proved no more than an organized hill for me, I exited +into the street and made my way to Biddick Park. + + + +People looked at me with admiration in their eyes, and why wouldn't +they? I'm a hero, I'm a {\ldots}savior? No, not that far. I fingered my +Beretta in my pocket. + + + +I thought in my head of Julian as I approached the dimly lit park, +a more brave witness there never was. Goes to show that kids need +to be respected and listened to. + + + +I noticed a man leaning against a building. He was wearing a Run +DMC shirt, I immediately recognized that as a rap group, I'm quite +interested in black culture. I had a hunch he wasn't my man +though. + + + +It was then I noticed a man following a child, twenty to thirty +feet behind, My experience taught me how to spot a tail. I used to +be a cop. I took a route to intercept him, something gleamed in his +hand, this is him. I approached him, and held my Beretta to his +head. ``You there, turn around!'' I shouted. He pivoted and glared at +me, a cross dangling from his neck. This was it, this was the man +who had murdered that kid. His eyes were gleaming black, I gritted +my teeth to keep the vomit down. + + + +He made a sudden move suddenly, bringing his knife up across my +neck. I fired at him. + + + +My neck vomited blood. His neck vomited blood. + + + +There was nothing I could do but sink down to the ground, lying in +the snow, my monster beside me, gurgling; blood? vomit? +whatever. + + + +``You know, you and I aren't that much different'', he giggled. +Suddenly I was sobbing. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Detective Thompson} + + +{\bf Words Will Never Hurt Me{\ldots}} + + + +Young Bin Beddick was angry. He could feel the foamy rage rushing +through his ducts and into his brain. His parents didn't +understand him. They did not understand him. Did they understand +him? No. He could still hear his dad's stinging words echoing +like the tones of the Liberty Bell, ringing in his ears. + +``What is this crap?'' his father bellowed like a walrus. +Bin had showed his dad his latest story. Bin was proud of the +story. But his father just crumpled the paper up, and tossed it in +his face. + +``I will not allow this heathen tome within my house!'' +he raged at the young Bin, before sending him to his room without +supper. His mother laughed her awful laugh, which sounded like the +cackling of a mother pig. + +It was dark that night. As Bin bubbled like a cauldron of hatred +and spit, night-dim clouds began vomiting rain and lightning onto +the earth. Bin wished he could shoot lighting at his parents. But +no, he had better ways to get back at them. The pen would be his +weapon. Despite his young age of thirteen, Bin was capable of +writing like a pro. His teacher told him his writing could make +James Joyce and Shakespeare spew jealous tears from their eye +ducts. Bin's fellow students quaked in awe whenever he gave +one of his weekly readings, weekly readings that had been insisted +upon by the principal, Mr. Howard. Mr. Howard hoped the other +students would learn something from Bin. So far, all they learned +was fear. And jealousy. + +So Bin picked up his pen, his fingers closing around it like steel +claws closing around the neck of an unsuspecting victim. Bin smiled +as he set to work, his pen flying across the page, his pen +releasing little black trails of ink, dark coffin worms that formed +words of terror and evil. Bin would show his parents what it was +like to be burdened with such talent. If it were ever to happen, +Bin felt tonight was the night he could give life to his words, for +real. How little did he know, he was too right{\ldots} + +As Bin finished his tale of fierce revenge and bitter anguish, he +heard a cough from behind him. The sound of a man clearing his +throat. Reflexive instinct twisted Bin's neck around, until +he caught sight of the man behind him. Tall, shadowed, wearing a +heavy black trench coat and gripping something in his right hand. +That something was the sleek, metallic shape of a Beretta pistol. +The kind a detective might carry. + +``Who are you?'' Bin asked with something more like +confusion than fright. Bin was made of stuff much too dense for +fright. + +``Luke Bavarious,'' came the words, spilling from the +man's shadowy mouth like soup from a Grandma's lips. +Bin's eyes went wide, then turned mechanically like a +robot's eyes to the pages in front of him. At the top of the +first page, like a crow roosting above in a branch, sat the title +of his story. `Luke Bavarious'. + +The man chuckled. Bin gasped, bewildered beyond thought. + +``But{\ldots} but how?'' he stammered, again, not with fear +but with unknowledge. + +``You gave me life, Bin. Your pure and simple rage came +together and hardened like a Jell-O mold in the fridge, creating +me, the perfect tool of your anger!'' Luke Bavarious nearly +shouted with glee. Bin hoped his parents wouldn't hear. + +``But what are you doing here?'' Bin wondered aloud. Luke +smirked. He gestured with his Beretta toward Bin's door, +beyond which his parents were undoubtedly sitting like sheep before +the TV. Before Bin could speak a word, Luke Bavarious charged forth +like a rhino charging a hunter. Luke Bavarious smashed down +Bin's door. Bin could only follow him out into the living +room, where his parents were watching some inane television +program. When they noticed Luke Bavarious, both his mother and +father shrieked like lambs with their faces cut off. Bin's +father leapt to his feet. Luke Bavarious raised the Beretta pistol +and fired, the bullet entering his father's brain, Satan-red +blood gushing forth from the hole in the back of his skull. He was +dead. Bin's mother tried to run, but Luke Bavarious shot her +in the back. She fell like a few dozen sacks of potatoes. + +``Oh, my spine!'' she whimpered. Her spine indeed. Bin +could see into the bullet hole, see her spinal column wriggling +like a snake caught in a bear trap. + +``Mother!'' Bin cried. + +``Why Bin, why?'' was all she could sputter from her +bloody mouth. Then she died. + +``No! I didn't want this to happen!'' Bin screamed +at Luke Bavarious with all the rage of a volcano in Pompeii. + +``Oh but you did, Bin. You did,'' Luke Bavarious +chucklingly spoke. Then he pointed the Beretta at Bin. + +``Why me?'' Bin shrieked. + +``Because, you are a bad boy, Bin. And bad boys must be +punished!'' Luke Bavarious said his final words as he pulled +the trigger of the Beretta. The bullet from the Beretta slammed +into Bin like the 42nd Street Subway slamming into a hobo that +jumped onto the tracks for some loose change. Bin collapsed, rusty +blood erupting like a fountain from every orifice in his face and +from the hole in his chest. A final, horrid chuckle escaped Luke +Bavarious' lips before fading away, dying with his creator. +Bin couldn't understand it. Luke Bavarious was a good guy in +his stories. How did this happen. And then, just before dying in a +pool of the blood from his body, it hit him, like a bat hitting a +skull. + +``If only my parents respected me, then this never would have +happened!'' + +Then he died. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Count Snapula} + + +{\bf DEAD TIRED}. (Alternate title: {\bf Horrid Reflection: +Gaiden}) + + + +Luke Bavarious woke up from a horrid dream in his Manhattan +apartment. He was vomiting sweat from every pore in his body. It +was exactly 6:36 in the evening, according to his digital clock. It +was blinking red. The color of satan. Luke had been having the same +nightmare for a week now. He was on duty looking into noise +disturbances when he was assaulted by a horrid monster, that was +maybe himself. Not even his trusty Beretta could save him from the +undead menace. Detective Bavarious grimaced grimly as he put on a +dirty wifebeater and some slacks that smelled faintly of hobo +urine. + + + +Walking to his refrigerator, Bavarious picked up the ubiquitous +Beretta off the toilet on the way there. He searched through the +crisper intensely, only to find a week-old tuna sandwich and a +single piece of knockwurst. + + + +``Jesus fucking christ. I wish my wife didn't leave me,'' bemoaned +Bavarious as he settled for the tuna. The bitterness over his ugly +divorce almost masked the taste of sour mayonnaise. With some +sustenance in his stomach, he began shaving over the kitchen sink. +Though Bavarious was uncannily dexterous with a Gillette{\copyright} +Fusion razor, something caught his eye in the reflection of the +faucet, and he made a deep gash in his face. Rust-colored blood +began to spray out, but fortunately Bavarious was able to hold back +the flood with a wash cloth. + + + +``Man, I must be going crazy or somethin','' muttered Bavarious to +himself as he opened his last can of Coor's Light, which responded +with a concerned '{\em pfffssssssht}'. Turning around to look out +the window and watch homeless people fight over garbage until his +shift began, Luke finally saw the culprit of the Razor Incident: an +enormous crow, black as midnight, holding a human eye in his beak. +Never to be caught off guard, Bavarious emptied his clip into the +horrid avian intruder. As he went to confirm the death of the crow, +he saw something that drained all the blood from his face. + + + +Below on the fire escape was his ex-wife, her intestines trailing +out of her corpse and one eye pecked out of its socket. Seeing +this, Bavarious vomited uncontrollably out the window and onto the +grisly scene. + + + +``Who could have done something like this?!'' Shouted Luke Bavarious, +once he had regained control of his bowels. Suddenly, he felt his +hands bound behind him, with the familiar click of handcuffs. + + + +``You did, Detective Luke Bavarious.'' Replied an NYPD officer, who +had just walked in with three others through his open apartment +door. Suddenly, those dreams all made sense to him. ``You've done +well by me, Luke Bavarious,'' whispered a terrible, gravelly voice +in his ear. He could tell it wasn't the cop taking him to the +street, because he had been punched in the balls as a kid and now +he talked like Elmo. + + + +``What have you done?!'' Luke struggled to break free from his +captors. But in the end, he knew it was true. The real captor was +himself. + + + +``Go to sleep, Luke. I'll take care of this,'' the voice whispered +smugly. Luke suddenly passed out, then. When he woke up, he was +covered in rusty red blood down to his buttocks, and all four cops +were dead. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Creflo Chronicle} + + +{\bf Black River} + + + +The horrid, crushing sound of a gushing river broke through Luke +Bavarius's rushing mind. He had awoken from a deep sleep to the +sound. The horrid sound. He had a hangover from too many Coors, and +it was driving him mad. Ever since the alley, where the ghoul had +deformed him, he drank every night until he blacked out. Otherwise, +there were the dreams. The horrid dreams. + +But now the river had woke him up. It made no sense. He lived in +the city, not by a river. And the sound was driving him mad. He +vomited. + +He got out of bed and shook the horrid vomit off his hands. He went +to his window. He looked out of his window. His apartment had been +moved from the busy city to a deserted hill overnight. At the foot +of the hill was a river. A black river. He went to his front door. +He opened it. He stepped outside. Rough stone steps lead from his +door down to below the surface of the rushing river. He turned +around and looked at his apartment. It was as though a giant had +reached in to his apartment building and scooped his apartment out +and then dropped it on top of the hill. The grass on the hill was +brown and dead. Around the base of the hill there was a dark, +impenetrable forest. Bavarius thought he could see faces peering +out at him from between the trees. Suddenly, night fell. Luke ran +in to his apartment. + +The moon was the only light to be seen. There were no stars. The +moon shone down and was reflected on to the river. + +Two fiends rose out of the river, walking up the stairs. They were +as tall as a tall man, but fat and obese. They looked the way +babies would look if they were as tall as a tall man. They were +white with black splotches like an albino who had had mud thrown on +him. They were naked. Bavarius quivered with fear, and held his +Beretta close to comfort him. + +The manbabies reached his door and stopped. They shouted to him +inside the house in unison. ``Luke Bavarius!'' they shouted. ``Let us +in and we will save you from some pain!'' Their voices were like a +sick man vomiting while trying to talk. + +``No!'' Luke shouted. + +The manbabies each raised a hand and pressed it against the door. +The door flew off it's hinges and slammed into a wall like from an +explosion. The manbabies entered Luke's apartment. + +Bavarius was still shaking with fear, but his killer instincts +kicked in. He leveled his trusty Beretta and fired 4 quick shots: 2 +in each of the ghouls' heads. The bullets struck them and black +ichor vomited out of the wounds. Soon though it congealed and +clogged the holes. The manbabies smiled and walked forward. ``No!'' +Luke shouted. They didn't listen. They walked him out of his +sliding glass door that used to lead to his balcony. It no longer +led to his balcony. He wasn't in the city any more. + +Outside there was a flat black stone, like a chunk of a freshly +paved road, but it looked natural. The manbabies led him to it and +held him against it, one at either end. The one by his head held +his arms down against the stone. The one by his legs held his feet +down against the stone. + +Skinny, emaciated people emerged from the forest and came up to the +stone. In their hands they held sharp shards of rock. One by one, +they stepped up and cut a deep gash in Bavarius's skin. He screamed +horridly. Wherever his rust-colored blood vomited from his body +onto the grass, the grass came to life with a rich golden sheen. +The life spread across the grass slowly. + +``No!'' Luke shouted. + +Luke died. + +When the last of his blood had left the wounds, the manbabies each +grasped their end tightly and tugged, ripping his body in half. +Each tucked their half under their arm and trudged down the stairs +and under the horrid black river. As they submerged, the river +seemed to dry up, leaving a barren riverbed. + +``It is good,'' the leader of the tribe said to his woman. ``Our crops +will grow again.'' + +``Yes, it is good,'' said his woman, patting her pregnant stomach. +``Little Luke Bavarius will not starve.'' + + + +{\bf THE END} + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{slackerpride} + + +Tapping into my 12 year old mind was fun. This whole thread has +been nothing short of amazing. That being said, I give you{\ldots} + + + +{\bf The Area the Moon Ignored} + + + +The moon was glowing, sending its light all over the town. All over +the town except for one part. That was where Detective Luke +Bavarius heading. + + + +The calls came in tonight --- like they had every night for the +last ten years. ``Officers,'' the voices said, ``I +saw something in the darkness{\ldots}maybe a man, I'm not sure.'' +``Ya gotta believe me Mac, there is something dark going on +there.'' ``It maybe occult related, I've read +articles!'' No one ever cared enough to believe it, but the +Chief's patience with the never ending calls finally came to an end +tonight. + + + +The same day his patience with Detective Bavarius ended also. + + + +The sounds of his shoes hitting the pavement made a rhythm that +sounded eerily like a heartbeat. {\em Good}, thought Bavarius, +{\em now I won't have to listen to mine} . Bavarius' reached into +his pocket and felt the cold steel of his Beretta on his skin. He +didn't want to have to use it, but he was ready to. {\em That's why I +go to the gun range}, Bavarius thought grinning to himself. His +teeth glowing like the moon. + + + +Suddenly, it started raining. The sky vomited it's tears on +Bavarius, thankfully he was wearing his hat. {\em Never leave home +without}, Bavarius mused. It was coming down in sheets, like +cats and dogs, and it made everything slick --- except for +Bavarius' vision, which was as sharp as ever. + + + +Chief didn't see that. Chief didn't see anything, except for the +bottom of a brown bottle. No one else knew but Bavarius and he +never said anything to anyone. He had caught chief one night +outside the back of McLeary's puking his guts out maybe ten years +ago. It was tinged rust colored, no doubt a horrible cocktail of +bloody Mary mix and blood most foul. Bavarius and him locked eyes +--- and ever since then they've been at each others +throats. + + + +Suddenly, he was on the outskirts of the dark part of town. New +York City was big, but there were parts that were small. This was +one of those parts. Bavarius took a step into the darkness --- +his heartbeat stopping and blood chilling his body. Things were +different here. They were strange. This was the area the moon +ignored. + + + +That grip around his gun was tight now. Bavarius pulled down his +hat, shielding his face from the rain that was falling. He wanted a +cigarette but remembered he quit last week. {\em Damn}, Bavarius +thought, {\em a Chesterfield would do me good now}. But there was +no time for smoke right now, Bavarius had to keep his vision sharp. +But it was hard, because it was dark. There was no light. The moon +even ignored this area of town. + + + +Then, off to his left, near a diminutive pile of offal storage, +there was a rattle. It sounded like a chain, but Bavarius wasn't +sure. His one strength, vision was compromised by the darkness of +the moonless section of city. The rain fell, filling his ears with +constant buzzing like someone was selling bees nearby at discounted +prices. {\em Crazy thought}, Bavarius thought, {\em but this is New +York City --- anything is possible}. + + + +``I agree Detective Luke Bavarius, a voice came from the pile +of rotting smelly garbage and various garbage cans. + + + +``Who is there?'' + + + +``Oh Bavarius, I think you know me well.'' + + + +``Listen,'' Bavarius said gruffly, ``I'm not above +firing a shot into those cans. It's dark here and no one will see +anything.'' + + + +``He will. He knows everything I know.'' + + + +``Who is he,'' Bavaruis asked cocking his gun. {\em What's +going on}, Bavarius thought glancing from side to side. The +academy hadn't trained him to deal with hell on Earth. + + + +``You wish to know what is going on{\ldots}I can read those +thoughts well. I was born with this gift{\ldots}though some might call +it a curse.'' + + + +``You can read my thoughts?'' + + + +``I can see into the dark corners of your soul Bavarius +--- mind reading is but a minor talent.'' + + + +``No bother asking then. Just tell me what's going +on.'' + + + +There was a laugh, a hellish laugh that rang off the dark walls +like a booming sonic boom from a low flying jet airplane. There was +more rattling and Bavarius now wished he had that cigarette so he +could shine some light on the area. There was more rattling frOm +that area. + + + +``Just come out --- if you're going to kill me, let me see +you first,'' Bavarius bartered with the thing from the +trash. + + + +Laughing the thing thus spoke, ``Very well{\ldots}you shall see me +and know where I come from.'' + + + +The can rattled once more and then, as if on cue, a nearby broken +street light flickered to life. It wasn't a lot of light but enough +to stun Bavarius to his soul. He --- or it --- dragged +itself from behind the can. It was no more then three feet tall. +There were no eyes. + + + +``I need not eyes Bavarius --- I see +everything.'' + + + +The street light flickered off again. + + + +``Jesus,'' Bavarius garbled out of his cracked open and +dry mouth. + + + +``Not even close.'' + + + +The creature was red and looked like walking vomit mixed with bits +of trash. It smelled like a horrible combination of garbage, vomit, +death and dank darkness. If it wasn't for the constant stream of +rain washing his shocked face, Bavarius' eyes would be blinded with +fear tears. + + + +``That's right, that night you saw the Chief vomiting, that's +when I was born. You see he is not human nor am I. He is my father +--- a creature from the depth of an unimaginable hell --- +he birthed me that moonless night. You are the only person to know +our secret. You will be the only one to ever know. Because, +Detective Bavarius, you shall die tonight.'' + + + +And then the creature made his way towards him, quick like a sly +brown fox. Bavarius squeezed the trigger and felt the recoil as he +sent six bullets towards the approaching creature. The bullets tore +through the walking vomit and shattered into the garbage cans +behind him. Laughing, the creature kept coming forward. + + + +Bavarius wanted to run --- his every instinct wanted him to do +it --- but his cop's instincts took over. He was going to stay +and fight even if it meant death. Bavarius dropped his gun, took +off his hat and threw his trench-coat on the floor. He rolled up +his sleeves and glared at the creature like a beast gone +wild. + + + +``Let's death dance you nasty bastard,'' Bavarius +growled, the hair on his neck rising. + + + +``A foolish mistake.'' + + + +And then the creature leapt like a dancer towards Bavarius. This +thing was growling, shooting his nasty breath towards Bavarius. But +Bavarius didn't move. He was determined to catch this thing and +body slam it to the cold wet concrete if possible. Perhaps he could +cuff it before the thing got away. + + + +Suddenly, as if God flipped a switch, the area the moon ignored was +awash in moonlight. A beam of it hit Bavarius' badge which hung +from his neck like a necklace. That beam hit the creature and it's +manic laughing changed into horrid screaming. Before it reached +Bavarius and possiblY killed him, it erupted like a fireworks +display. + + + +The bloody vomit creature spattered all over Bavarius's face and +body. His white shirt was now rusty looking with blobs of trash +sticking to it. Bavarius could taste it --- not just the +creature'S gooey body but impending revenge. + + + +The rain let up and the moon disappeared behind some clouds. +Bavarius placed his fedora back on his head and put his jacket back +on. He also reached down and grabbed his gun. Feeling inside his +jacket pocket, he felt something. Bavarius pulled it out --- it +was his last cigarette from last week. It would taste gross, but +Bavarius was already knee deep in gross. He struck a match and lit +it up. + + + +Cocking his baretta, Bavarius stood and grinned. He knew what he +must do next. He knew it was going to be ugly. He took a nice long +drag from his stale smoke and exhaled. He placed that loaded gun +back into his rain soaked jacket pocket. + + + +``I'm coming for you Chief.'' + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Yaos} + + +{\bf The Killer B} + + + +Luke Bavarius looked down at the ground, it turned a putrid rusty +caused by the bullet holes in his latest victim, Zigmatron +McGlutenon. Luke Bavarius brought his Barreta up to his nose and +took a smell. ``This smells good, it smells like'' but +stopped in mid sentence because he thought he heard something so he +looked around but there was nothing there except some things, so he +continued speaking loudly, ``death''. Every time Luke +killed somebody it reminded him of the time his son told him that +he should not go out, and when he did and came back his son was +dead! His son had died a long time ago, almost 3 months now today. +Luke found his son's body but no head because his head was torn +off. They searched for days but no head was ever found. They even +used dogs that are good at finding heads without bodies. + + + +``Why do I keep doing this'', Luke thought to himself. +``I can't keep killing, it won't bring back my son Luke +Jr.'' Then somebody said that this was not true at all, but +who could it be? + + + +``But that's not true Mr. Bavarius, killing can bring back +your son, because I can help you.'' Luke saw a man he had +never seen before that looked like he was 50 years old with gray +hair and balding. His sweater smelled of blood. ``Luke, I know +something that you do not, your son is not really dead!'' But +how can this be? + + + +``I don't understand, I buried his body in the ground myself +and his head was gone! You can't keep living without a head! And +who are?'' Luke was distrustful of the stranger. + + + +``But you can live with a head Luke, and your son still has a +head, he's not really dead at all because the body you found was a +fake and that's why you did not find his head because there was no +head to find.'' Suddenly it all made sense very quickly, Luke +Jr. did not feel like any body Luke had felt before and he always +thought that something was wrong and now he had the proof. ``I +am Ugundun, you need my help and I have a shop that can help +you!!'' + + + +``We can't talk here Ugundun, we need to go to your store +before more thugs show up to kill us.'' + + + +So they went to Ugundun's store, where Luke had gone many times to +buy guns and bullets from from Ugundun, but it was weird that he +did not know who Ugundun was, that was very odd indeed. +``Let's have a beer'' and so they had a beer while they +talked about Luke Jr. + + + +``Do you want my help Luke?'' He did want his help. +``Good, but first you must kill somebody for me.'' + + + +``But, I'm done killing people, I promised my dead son Luke +Jr.'' Luke was angry that Ugundun wanted him to kill, but +after a while he decided he would help Ugundun if it meant he could +get Luke Jr. back. ``So who do I need to kill''? + + + +``You need to kill this man.'' Ugundun handed Luke +Bavarius a picture of something that looked like a man but was not +a man, it was a two legged dog. + + + +``But it's not a man, it's a two legged dog!'' Luke +Bavarius was about to rip up the picture but Ugundun stopped +him. + + + +``You should know that appearances can be deceiving, you found +out your son is not dead and even though you ignored him you can +still get him back.'' Luke Bavarius knew Ugundun was right so +he ran off to go kill the two legged dog. + + + +Luke Bavarius walked into the park where the dog was hiding out, as +he walked through the park he patted his trusty Baretta that he has +used many times to kill people with. And there it was, the two +legged dog! But it was not like the picture, he was covered in +rusty blood and vomit. ``Dad'' it yelled out. + + + +``I'm not your dad dog.'' Luke Bavarius was angry at the +dog for lieing to him. + + + +``No dad, I am your son, I'm Luke Jr. Don't you remember +me?'' The dog slowly walked up to Luke, and as he walked +closer he turned into Luke Jr.! + + + +``Luke Jr. It's you! I thought you were dead! I'll always +listen to you again!'' Luke hugged Luke Jr. and gave him a +kiss and a hug. + + + +``I love you dad, how did you find me?'' Luke explained +to Luke Jr. how he found him. ``Ugunden was the one that +turned me into a dog dad, you have to stop him!'' Suddenly it +all made sense, that's why Ugunden knew his son was not dead it was +because Ugunden had taken him all the time! Ugunden hated how much +Luke Bavarius loved Luke Jr. because Luke Jr. was a great child and +did everything right and everybody loved him and liked him and +Ugunden wanted him to kill Luke Jr. but Luke Bavarius did not kill +Luke Jr. Now it was time for Ugunden to die. + + + +Luke Bavarius walked into Ugunden's shop, he threw a dog's head +with a bullet hold between the eyes on the table and said the job +was done. Blood and urine oozed out of the dog's eye sockets and +bullet hole. Ugunden took a look at the head and started laughing +and laughing. ``Ha ha ha Luke, that was not a dog, that was +your son!'' + + + +``I know that Ugunden, my son told me.'' Ugunden looked +surprised. + + + +``But why did you kill your son if you knew the dog was your +son?'' Ugunden looked scared and Luke Bavarius knew he was +scared. + + + +``I did not kill my son Ugunden, I killed this dog to trick +you. Now you're going to be punished! Luke Jr. get in +here!'' + + + +Luke Jr. Lept through a window while shooting Luke Bavariuses +Barreta and other gun, the glass showered out and covered Ugunden +giving him many cuts and scratches. Some of the broken glass got +stuck in Ugunden's eyes which made him blind and vomit. Because +Ugunden could not see and he was covered in glass cuts he started +screaming and vomiting and running around getting vomit and urine +and blood all over the place. Luke Bavarius opened his coat up and +started throwing rats and dog guts all over Ugunden which made +Ugunden defecate and urinate and vomit and bleed even more. The +rats started eating the dog guts which made Luke Jr. and Luke +Bavarious start vomiting also. The rats tried to eat the vomit and +feces and urine but it made them sick so they vomited and exploded +covering the inside of Ugunden's shop with rat guts and blood and +feces and urine and vomit. Ugunden was still screaming and running +around and he ran out the front door of his shop. A large semi +truck was driving down the road and the driver did not see Ugunden +in time and he ran over Ugunden. Ugunden's head exploded from the +truck's tires, all the guts and vomit he had not vomited out shot +out of him like there was an explosion. The driver of the semi +truck tried to stop but it made the truck skid out of control and +the truck ran into a pet store. All the animals inside started +hooting and hollering and they all ran out and they were all on +fire. The truck was filled with gunpowder so it exploded killing +all the animals. + + + +``Thank you for helping me dad, I am your son and I will +always love you even though you did not listen to me.'' Luke +Jr. gave his dad a hug. + + + +``I love you too son and I will listen to you from now +on''. Luke Bavarius started to walk away, as he did Luke Jr. +Raised his weapon and pointed it at the back of Luke Bavariuses +head. + + + +``I know you'll listen to me for the rest of your life +dad.'' Luke Jr. pulled the trigger. + + + +{\bf ?THE END?} + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Ghost Hat} + + +I love this thread. + + + +{\bf Character Sketch} + + + +I frowned as I looked at the crime scene. The lawn had been well +kept once, but now it was all wild. The grass had been green once, +but now it was all brown from the blood. The blood was from a +corpse named James McDaniels. He was ten years old. He was murdered +here last week in front of his house. James McDaniels' father +had hired me to find out who killed his son{\ldots} or what. + + + +My name is Luke Bavarius. I'm a private eye. I'm whom +they call when the police can't handle a case. Or if they +don't want to. This is one of those cases because James +McDaniels' father, James McDaniels Senior, is a crime boss +for the mafia and the cops don't like him. I don't like +him either, but I'm a desperate man. + + + +I looked around and inspected the white chalk circles from where +his body was found. There were two. One for his body and one for +his head. The kid had been decapitated viciously. Just thinking +about it made me taste vomit in the back of my throat. At first the +police had suspected the kid's father. It makes sense. The +crime boss's case of alcoholism was publicly known. But he +had an alibi in his frightened wife and anyways it didn't +make sense since he hired me to investigate his son's murder. +A guilty man wouldn't do that. + + + +It might have been a rival gang, or even a cop trying to get back +at McDaniels Senior, but I didn't think so. The crime was too +violent. The force used to tear off the kid's head, the +distance it had been thrown, the amount of blood{\ldots} it had to +be personal. + + + +I didn't like to think that another kid could do this. I +didn't even know how since to rip even a kid's head off +you would need at least the strength of a gorilla. But I +couldn't dismiss a lead until I followed up on it. An +investigator follows his instincts and mine said I was on to +something fishy here. + + + +At the school I questioned everybody. Everybody who could have had +contact with James McDaniels. As I talked to more and more people, +I started to draw a picture in my head. The picture was one of +James McDaniels, and soon the picture got more and more detailed. +He was sent to the principal a lot because he picked on other kids. +He would torture, beat, and steal from anyone smaller than him. He +was a bully of the worse kind, just like his dad. I guess +it's true that the apple really doesn't fall far from +the tree. + + + +``Is there anybody James really picked on? More than everybody +else?'' I asked a little boy during lunch. He was maybe a +third grader, and he didn't seem too unhappy about his late +tormenter being dead. Who could blame him. + + + +The boy looked thoughtful for a moment and then pointed to a dark +corner in the cafeteria. He said with a mouthful of hamburger, +``Tommy. James hated Tommy because Tommy was never afraid of +him.'' + + + +I thanked him gratefully and looked over in the corner. A boy was +there and it was strange. Every other kid here was eating lunch and +laughing with each other. But not this kid. Not Tommy. He was alone +and hunched obsessively over a bunch of papers. I think he was +drawing, though I couldn't see what from here. I knew I had +to talk to this kid. + + + +``Hey Tommy, what are you drawing?'' I asked carefully, +sneaking a peek at his masterpiece. It was a picture of the +cafeteria and all the kids in it. I figured it'd be a +child-like scribble, the sort of stuff normal kids do, but I was +surprised to see that it was pretty good. ``Hey, you're +better than I am,'' I joked. + + + +``It's just practice,'' Tommy mumbled, covering the +drawing with his hands. He looked away from me and stared hard at +the wall. + + + +I paused hesitantly. I don't talk to lots of kids in this +line of work, but I knew that I had to try. ``Tommy, I need to +talk to you about James McDaniels, okay? I'm trying to catch +the guy who murdered him, and I need a big guy like you to help +me.'' + + + +Suddenly the school bell rang and all the kids got up to leave. +Tommy shot up like the red plastic of the kid's chair he sat +on had burned him. He grabbed his backpack. ``What can I do? +I'm just a kid,'' he snarled angrily as he shoved past +me, rushing off to math class. + + + +I blinked as I watched him go, and then I squinted down at the +papers he had left. He was going to be in a lot of trouble if any +of this was homework, but as I pushed the papers around I saw that +there weren't any words on them, just drawings. Some were of +nice things, but most of them were grotesque and disgusting, blood, +flesh, and vomit so realistic it turned my stomach. One of them +caught my eye in particular and I picked it up. + + + +It was a creature all shadowy and dark. Its tail looked vicious and +I could feel the terrible expression on its face in my very soul. +But what caught my eye the most was the head it held in its hand. I +recognized that head. I recognized the house behind it. It was +James McDaniels' head and that was his house too! + + + +That night I staked out Tommy's house. The sky was as stormy +as my mood. The clouds turned and swirled around as viciously as +the insides of my stomach. Even the lightning made me feel like +vomiting, but I smoked a Marlboro instead. It calmed me down enough +to think. I didn't know how, but I knew that Tommy was a +murderer. I needed to prove it somehow and get him put away, maybe +put away for life. + + + +The broken clock radio flashed 12:00 A.M. in glowing green light. +All the lights in Tommy's house were off. Strange kid. All +alone, but he ain't scared of the dark. Tommy's parents +had gone off to a fancy party hours ago. Tommy's dad wore a +tux and his mom, a nice looking dame, wore a sleek little number. I +didn't expect them back any time soon. + + + +The rain pattered on the top of my beat-up Oldsmobile like hundreds +of little mice feet. The lightning flashed and Tommy's house +was lit up in black and white, like some old horror movie. I +wasn't scared, but I reached inside my jacket and stroked my +Beretta. Thunder grumbled like a monster, a hungry one at that. My +imagination went a little wild as I thought of all those pictures +Tommy drew. That kid could draw all right. + + + +The rain kept pattering away. Pattering away like thousands of +little mice feet now. But suddenly, with a loud thump, something +huge landed on the roof! It shook the car and I bounced inside and +looked up in surprise. The surprise turned to horror as I saw a +huge indentation above me. That was no mouse! No, I doubted it was +even a really big rat! + + + +I pulled out my loaded Beretta and aimed at the roof above me and +fired three rounds in quick succession. I know I missed it though +because I felt the thing leap off the roof and land on the street +outside the car. Nothing but rain came through the holes, good news +for my seat cushions but I wouldn't have minded the cleaning +bill. It was too dark with night and rain to see outside the +window, so I opened the car door and leapt outside, squeezing my +pistol blindly into the air. The thunder cracked then, even louder +than my gunshots and I heard a scream louder than them both +combined. + + + +I peered into the wetness and saw a dark figure clutching at the +side of its neck. Thick black blood oozed from between its fingers +and as it screamed again, more vomited from the creature's +mouth. I moved closer, clutching my Beretta with white knuckles. I +was staring at the creature's head, but I realized what a +mistake that was when I recognized that horrid expression on the +monster's grimacing face. + + + +I leapt back. Just in time as a whip, faster than a speeding semi, +struck right where my skull would have been. It was the +creature's tail. This thing. This man that was more monster +than human was the beast from Tommy's drawing. My brain was +struck with awe, but luckily my hands didn't care about what +my brain thought. My fingers squeezed at the Beretta's +trigger over and over again, filling the creature full of holes. +Black blood sprayed out from all over the creature's body, +mixing with the pure rain, like mixing demon urine with holy +water. + + + +The creature gave one last angry garble as it lurched towards me. I +could have sworn it said something in English but I don't +know what. My brain was on automatic as I fired my semi-automatic, +the barrel spewing out bullet after bullet. Finally the beast +staggered and collapsed, right at my feet. Its tail gave one last +feeble lash and subsided. Up close I could see how truly hideous it +really was, with pulsing black veins and oozing pustules all over +its body. I licked my lips and tasted salt, which surprised me +since rainwater is fresh. I was crying. + + + +I knew I couldn't stop now. My hands shook with the +nervousness I had felt from the assault of Tommy's monster, +but I reminded myself of whom I was. I was Luke Bevarious. I was a +private investigator. I had faced down lots of tougher situations +than some kid with a coloring book. + + + +I went inside the house. It was much quieter inside the house than +it was outside. The water dripping off my coat sounded loud in my +ears as I went from room to room, searching for the boy I knew must +be there. Finally I found him. + + + +It must have been his bedroom. I spotted a bed and dresser out of +the corner of my eye, but mostly I saw the drawings. Hundreds and +hundreds of drawings stuck all over the walls and the ceiling, the +floor and every bit of furniture. And in the middle of the floor +was Tommy. He sat beside a flickering candle and didn't +bother to look up at me when I opened the door. + + + +Tommy was drawing. + + + +``Put down the pencil,'' I said, my voice sounding harsh +and gravelly. ``I got a pistol pointed at your head, boy. My +fingers have minds of their own sometimes, I can't promise +anything if you don't.'' + + + +``You're just in time,'' Tommy said with a soft +smile. I was surprised when he did what I told him to do, tossing +the pencil playfully off to the side. But something was off. His +smile was more than just a regular kid's smile. My eyes +widened in horror as I bolted forward and snatched up the +just-finished drawing. I gazed at it with terror as I turned around +to face the door I had just used. + + + +Yes, it was just like the drawing. The kid was good. Really +good. + + + +{\bf The End.} + + + + diff --git a/part3.tex b/part3.tex new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d742efa --- /dev/null +++ b/part3.tex @@ -0,0 +1,4639 @@ +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{VelvetEvoker} + + +{\bf Station 666} + + + +Tommy and his best friend Bobby were twelve years old. They lived +in a small town that reeked of pestilence and a terrible oldness. +Bobby's parents were very strict with their son and +wouldn't even get him a television, so all they had was an +old antique radio that once belonged to Bobby's +grandpa. + + + +Tommy and Bobby knew there was something wrong with the radio, but +no one would listen. Many times they had asked an adult to come +take a closer look at the radio, because they knew if anyone else +got the same feeling they were getting they'd burn the radio +any bury the remains. Many times Tommy and Bobby tried to throw it +out, but it was too heavy for the children to carry and the adults +would not let them throw it away because it was their old +grandpa's antique. + + + +One night when Tommy was sleeping over at Bobby's house, he +noticed something strange. No matter where it was left the day +before, the dial would start turning and eventually it'd end +up on the frequency of 666. Tommy tried turning it as low as it +would go, and in a few hours it'd be back at 666. It was the +same thing if he tried to turn it higher. + + + +Later that night they turned the radio on while it was at station +666, but it did not seem to be an active station. Nothing but +static spewed forth from the speakers, but in the static was the +sound of dread. Bobby's mom said that it was odd but it must +just be the dial's default setting, so still nothing could be +done about the radio. + + + +The next day at school Tommy agreed to sleep over at Bobby's +house and leave the station on all night to see if anything +happened. However, nothing happened all night and they were tired +so they began to fall asleep. They were awoken again at exactly +midnight by a terrible screeching noise, followed by a voice. + + + +The voice spoke in an unknown language that was possibly even older +than the radio. It was such a terrible voice that it sounded like +nails on a chalkboard and both boys had to cover their ears. Bobby +took his hand off of his ears and they were covered in blood, but +Tommy wasn't bleeding. + + + +Suddenly Bobby leaned over as if he was about to vomit, but instead +of puke a clawed hand came out of his mouth. The hand continued to +emerge, followed by a shoulder, until Bobby's mouth could +take it no more and his head split in two, with his brains slopping +down his back and his jaw trailing down his stomach. + + + +Finally the demon had emerged, covered in Bobby's blood and +stomach fluids. ``I am Xavid Viarabous, and no one has +survived the sound of my voice for a thousand years.'' + + + +Suddenly Tommy reached into his sleeping bag and pulled out an old +Beretta he found in the field. On it were the initials +`L.B.'. ``I survived.'' he said. Then he shot +the demon. + + + +The radio was still not thrown out for two days. Tommy turned it to +station 666, and from midnight to 12:01 he could hear Bobby +screaming. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Donde Esta} + + +{\bf The Promise} + + + +5 A.M. is a shitty time for burnt coffee. + + + +As I, Luke Bavarious, stared in to my barren mug and gently touched +the still fresh wound on the side of my head, a reflection in the +still slick bottom forced a sob from the trenches of my gut. + + + +It was him. + + + +That night in the alley way, four sleepless and coffee spurn nights +ago, I saw something that can only be described as awful, and I +shot it. I shot it dead. + + + +He came at me and he came at me hard, but Ol' Betsy finally +laid him to rest. As he slumped over my side, covered in warm +oozing liquid, I caught a reflection of something far worse than +the disfigured wretch I had just put down. It was him; the man of +my non-existent nightmares. + + + +I caught his reflection in the broken glass and he was smiling, +smiling an unnatural and hideous grin. I was in no position to +defend myself. While I might be able to load a Beretta faster than +anyone else this side of the Hudson, being in his presence, time +seemed to slow to a halt. + + + +His wild arms flapped about as if the cool alleyway breeze had been +given life. Entirely too tall and entirely too pale to be human, +only one thing came to mind: Slender Man. + + + +Two weeks before that, I had gotten a call from an extremely upset +and distraught mother. She said that her son came home and he +wouldn't stop talking about how the ``Slender Man'' +had just played with him and some of the other children at Bryant +Park just off of W 41st St. + + + +Her son went on to tell her how ``Slendy'', as the boy +had nicknamed him, had taken a particular interest in Suzy Carlton. +He said that Slendy took her into the alleyway and she came back +with a strange purple mark on her arm. She thought it was awesome +and all the other children wanted one too, but Slendy said that +they would have to wait and that he, ``Would be back for +everyone!'' Her son was the only one who was scared of +him. + + + +I scoffed at the lady and told her that I had more important things +to do than investigate some street performer handing out stickers +to children in the park. I didn't care if her kid got stiffed +a purple tattoo from some freak. I hung up on her. + + + +I shouldn't have hung up on her. + + + +As I laid in the street, looking at the piece of glass I was +terrified. Sobbing, making all the connections in my mind, I stared +at him. Stared into his devilish eyes, wondering what it was that +he wanted from me. + + + +As he approached me, arms dangling all around, he bent down in a +way that a human should not be able to and stuck his face nearly an +inch from mine. + + + +In that moment, the only thing I wished for was death; quick and +sudden death. Instead, the Slender Man would give me something much +worse: a promise. + + + +He looked me in the eyes and with a smile he whispered in a voice +which came out in chortles, ``Don't +worry{\ldots}Bavarious{\ldots}I'll be back for you +too.'' It was a promise which kept me awake for four nights, +and a promise I expected him to keep. + + + +Now, looking into my cup, I watched as he stood behind me. I did my +best not to show my fear. + + + +I looked at the badge lying out on the table. A gold shield made of +brass and time. It wasn't much, just a symbol, but it gave me +the courage to speak. + + + +``Mr. Slender, why'd you go after those children?'' +I asked, trying to sound as calm as possible. + + + +``The children give me{\ldots}'' it sounded now as if it +were trying to speak while a river of maple syrup ran through its +throat, ``{\ldots}they give me lifeeeeeee''. + + + +``So why are you here{\ldots}Slendy?'' I asked +cautiously, doing my best to distract him while positioned my hand +on the holster under my robe. + + + +``Little{\ldots}David Sanders{\ldots}didn't last very +long{\ldots}and his mother{\ldots}was{\ldots}lacking,'' he +said smugly. + + + +``Well Slendy, that night in the alleyway, you should have +taken your chance because now I'm ready for you,'' I +barked, as I spun around and emptied a whole clip into his +chest. + + + +He shrieked and recoiled as black, viscous liquid leaked out onto +my kitchen floor and ate away at it like acid. + + + +With his defenses down I fought through the mess of flailing arms +and pistol whipped him with the still burning hot barrel of my +Berretta. + + + +``You shouldn't have fucked with those kids, Slendy. You +shouldn't have fucked with Luke Bavarious,'' I yelled at +him. + + + +He wasn't done. Despite my damage, he was still functioning, +though severely wounded. + + + +``I'll be{\ldots}back +for{\ldots}you{\ldots}Bavarious,'' he coughed out, between +sputters of demon blood. + + + +He dashed out the door and before I could get to it, the thing was +out of sight. + + + +With a little boy's death that could have been prevented on +my conscience, I now know my purpose in life. If I had only +listened to him. + + + +The Slender Man may have just made me a promise, but I'm +going to beat him to it. Luke Bavarious is now on the case. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{henpod} + + +Fuck man whoever reads all these stories is going to be vomiting +blood like no tomorrow + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{BoldFrankensteinMir} + + +{\bf Johnny the Knifer} + + + +I stopped short at the counter. I sat down. Coffee poured out the +coffee pot and into my cup, like a pot of brown bullets shooting +into my cup and splashing in coffee. The waitress was very pretty. +She said ``would you like some coffee''? My name is Luke Bavarious. I +like coffee. And I am a detective. + + + +It was my favorite restaurant. It was on 756th street in Manhattan. +New York. The waitress was very pretty, and the coffee was just as +good. ``How do you like your coffee Luke Bavarious'' she said. ``Sweet +like you'' I winked. She winked back. There was something about the +way she winked at me and the way she poured my coffee. My heart +beat double the blood suddenly, but I was in control. In control of +my blood. + + + +``How is that kid you have'' I said romantically. The waitress +blushed. ``Johnny is a good kid but I'm afraid he's falling in with +a bad crowd'' she cried. I comforted her, my shoulder soaking up her +sweet sad woman tears that she cried from those pretty eyes. + + + +Suddenly, three men walked into the restaurant. ``Well Well Well +Luke Bavarious'' said the first man. He was horrible and tall and +ugliness all wrapped into a tall horrible suit. ``You better run +Luke Bavarious after you ruined our drug crime this morning!'' he +said. Then he said it again. With his guns. And his bullets. + + + +I jumped behind the counter. The waitress cried ``don't let them +shoot the restaurant I have a kid'' so I jumped in front of the +counter. The mobsters cackled a sick crackling laugh that bled in +waves out of their toothy horror mouths. ``The great Luke Bavarious'' +laughed Jimmy the Knifer. ``Hiding behind a woman! Laughable!'' he +said and proved it with more laughs. + + + +``Not so fast!'' I yelled and reached for my sleek silver loaded +Beretta with my name engraved in the gun and on the bullets too. I +realized my gun was gone! I had to think fast. + + + +``Not so fast!'' I yelled and grabbed the pot of coffee. I splashed +it at Jimmy the Knifer and his goons. The goons ran, missing the +terrible shower of deadly boiling coffee. The coffee splashed into +Jimmy the Knifer's hands and face. I recoiled in horrible terror as +he screamed. + + + +``NO'' screamed Jimmy the Knifer. He fell to the ground, the tears of +pain mixing with the steaming sweet coffee as the veins in his +forehead popped open like firecrackers in hot coffee and tears. +Blood and tears and hair and coffee spilled into the coffee puddles +on the floor and he screamed as his skin went into the puddles too. +``NO'' he screamed again. ``NO''. + + + +I turned to have my sandwich that I also ordered and the waitress +had brought to me before the mobsters came in. Tears were on her +face just as surprise was on mine because of hers. ``What's wrong +Suzie'' I said. ``We're in New York the city that never sleeps, of +course there's gonna be a little crime but I'm Luke +Bavarious''. + + + +``NO!'' screamed Suzie. She ran to Jimmy the Knifer! What is +happening? + + + +``I told you he was in with a bad crowd'' she sobbed through tears of +grieving for her dead mobster son. I recoiled in horror from my +sandwich. If I had known! But Jimmy the Knifer was not a +child! + + + +``He looks older because of makeup so adults would take him +seriously!'' she cried at me. I looked now at Jimmy. A kid! The +makeup was melting off in the blood and coffee and boiled skin and +it was a kid! The sandwich dropped from my hands and the coffee pot +shattered all over my shoes also. How could I have known? + + + +Jimmy the Knifer looked at me with blood eyes and tears coughed +from his dying words. ``Who's the big man now{\ldots} Luke{\ldots} +Bavarious{\ldots}'' he said, and in his hand was the baseball card I had +given his mom to give him for his birthday just a week before. That +made it even more incredibly sad. + + + +``NO'' I screamed and they took me away for murder, on two counts of +homicidal killings. Johnny the Knifer{\ldots} and Johnny the Boy. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{lemonlime} + + +A BUTTER KNIFE + + + + + +Martin Boswell was always required to remain at table until Mr. +Boswell dismissed him. Some nights Martin would sit in his creaky +old wooden chair, picking at a tattered and threadbare corner of +its cushion, until long past midnight. Since eating his supper +never took more than an hour, Martin would be left with a very long +time in which to sit, pick at his lumpy old cushion and watch his +father watching the butter knife. This knife was dull, scratched +stainless steel with a rounded tip and a very slight serration; no +different than any other butter knife that might grace another, +happier supper table. + + + +At first Mr. Boswell would turn it around and around, so that the +lamplight flashed off its blade hypnotically. Then, holding the +handle lightly between his thumb and all four fingers, as one would +hold the bow of a cello, he would run that knife's dainty little +teeth slowly up and down the length of his forearm, occasionally +pausing to turn tight little circles over the network of veins +decorating the inside of his wrist and displaying to all the +precarious restraint in which his very life's blood was held. +Martin had used his father's butter knife once when Mr. Boswell was +at work; from that day forth, seeing his father's shivers never +failed to provoke an answering shiver in himself. + + + +Then Mr. Boswell would turn the butter knife's attentions to his +scarred, scabbed hands, those stained and stinking hands which had +fired the little gun that shot Martin's mother in the back as she +tried to run for the last time. He would drag those hateful smiling +teeth back and forth across the back of his hand as though +buttering an english muffin, hour after hour, until the skin began +to abrade and swell and eventually bleed. + + + +At first the wound was a minor one. But after being kept open by +Mr. Boswell's nightly ritual for the better part of a year it began +to grow wider and deeper. His flesh became purple and black and the +stench of putrefaction was so strong that no one would willingly go +near Mr. Boswell except for Luke Bavarious, a former police +detective turned bodyguard, and Martin. + + + +One night, around 11 o'clock, Martin saw bone. Not even the memory +of the four days of torment his mother suffered in the root cellar +as she died of her gunshot wounds could keep him in his chair then. +In his bedroom, Martin stripped off his soiled clothes and set them +to soak in the bathtub, then opened the window to clear the odor +and began to wonder whether a jump would really kill him. He didn't +feel like adding to the number buried in that grisly root cellar, +yet he knew that if he tried to creep out of any of the doors he'd +be instantly caught by the keen eye of Bavarious. + + + +There was a knock at his bedroom door and then it opened. Luke +Bavarious stood there and he said, ``I'm sorry, Kid, what you're +gotta live with is wrong. Just run back as quick as you can. Get in +your chair and I'll come in a bit later to shake him out of it. I +promise I'll hurry.'' + + + +Martin threw on a clean set of clothes and dashed back downstairs. +His father never even looked at him as he took his seat as quietly +as he left it. Mr. Boswell did not shift his attention from the +butter knife until Bavarious walked into the dining room, claiming +to have seen an intruder across the courtyard. Martin was +immediately ordered to his bedroom for the night, and as he left +the table Martin felt a gratitude and devotion for Luke Bavarious +that he could never have imagined just fifteen minutes +before. + + + +That night taught Martin that while Mr. Boswell was watching his +butter knife, he could go anywhere and do anything without his +father seeing him. Only Luke Bavarious could keep him from leaving +during those times. One night, as Mr. Boswell sat mesmerized by the +clean red blood that seeped from his corrupted flesh, Martin went +to the linen closet and pulled out a backpack in which he'd stashed +clothing, food and a little money. Bavarious met him at the +door. + + + +``Let me go, Luke, please,'' Martin begged. ``You know he'll kill me +too, as soon as he sees that I want to leave.'' + + + +After looking at Martin for a moment, Luke said, ``I know, kid. +After what he did to your Mom, I knew that I'd only leave this +house when I was dead. Mr. Boswell, he'd kill me in a second if he +knew I was standing here talking to you and not killing you. No way +can I let you stay here. Your father doesn't love or respect you. +But he was a good man once, and I can't bear to live with having +done something to betray his trust in me. No, there's only one way +it's gotta be.'' + + + +With that, Luke Bavarious pulled out the Beretta he'd carried since +early childhood, applied the muzzle to his temple and squeezed the +trigger. A scalding wave of blood drenched Martin's face as he +stood frozen there. He turned suddenly and ran away into the +night. + + + +It would be a long time before Martin Boswell stopped running. He +crossed oceans and traversed lands stranger than he'd ever imagined +during the long empty hours sitting at his father's dining room +table. During that time, Martin was a beggar, a slave and a whore. +When he woke up one morning in a place where the air was so thick +it could be used as a sandwich spread and the rain fell as warm as +blood, he knew he was home. + + + +Martin would forget, sometimes, why he'd run. He'd be eating supper +at a cafe and the light shining off one of the diners' butter +knives would make him shiver with some dark lust. But none of that +mattered. Every time he felt the hot rain wash down his face Martin +would feel the blood Luke Bavarious had shed, the sacrifice he'd +make of his own body, so that Martin could be reborn into a new +life. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{King Plum the Nth} + + +I'm beginning to feel a bit self conscious about the lack of vomit +in my entry. vomity vomiting vomit which vomits more vomit +from it's oozy vomitous depths. Hmmm{\ldots} + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{BoldFrankensteinMir} + + +For some weird reason I just keep imagining Luke Bavarius as +halfway between Luke Cage and Benny Hill's toymaker character from +Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Am I{\ldots} completely off the mark here, or +what? + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{henpod} + + +I see Bavarious as a Max Payne film noir type detective, but with +loads more vomit and suddenly. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Monkey Trouble} + + +{\bf The Cave} + + + +The name's Bavarious. Luke Bavarious, P.I. + + + +My morning began with a mysterious phonecall. An unidentifiable +voice, wracked with sobbing, incoherently pleading for help. The +only words I was able to decipher were ``help'', ``old cave'' ``outside +town''. That could only mean the old, disused coal mine on the +outskirts of town. Whoever the poor shmuck was, I decided to +investigate. + + + +I followed the overgrown dirt track from the edge of town, until I +was staring into the dark, gaping mouth of the cave. As I clicked +on my flashlight, I heard a voice behind me. + + + +``Mister. Hey, Mister.'' + + + +There was a small blond-haired boy on a rusted red bicycle behind +me. + + + +``You shouldn't go in there, it's dangerous.'' he said. + + + +``Beat it, kid, you shouldn't be messing around out here.'' I said +gruffly. + + + +A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. ``Ok, but don't +say I didn't warn you.'' + + + +I watched him turn the bike around and ride off. As I stood at the +cave entrance, I felt a strange itching sensation on my right hand. +Looking down, I saw a wart I hadn't noticed before right next to my +index finger. Dismissing it, I drew my beretta and headed into the +darkness of the cave. + + + + + +As I shone my flashlight into the murky depths of the cave, I could +see it went on for miles in front of me. The itching sensation had +started to travel all over my body, getting more intense. I was +eager to find whoever was in trouble and get the hell out of +here. + + + +{\em BANG.} A gunshot cut through the air like a knife. I hit the +deck, rolling behind a pile of rocks and scanning my surroundings +for my would-be attacker. It was only then that I realised the shot +had come from my own gun. + + + +I looked down at my gun hand, and recoiled in horror. Where the +wart had been, there was now a fully grown finger{\ldots}{\em and it was +curled around the trigger!}I swiped at it with my other hand and +it responded by trying to turn my own gun on me. + + + +Seeing no other choice, I dropped my flashlight and grabbed my +knife from my pocket and started to saw into the strange digit. I +vomited in pain as the blood flowed from the cut. My flashlight lay +on the floor, casting it's light onto me, and I watched as the +finger continued to grow even as it hit the floor. The flesh +writhed and I realised it was growing into a hand, then an +arm! + + + +The itching sensation suddenly wracked my whole body, and I ripped +open my shirt to reveal several pairs of hands growing from my +chest! I vomited again in disgust, once again going to work with +the knife, vomiting blood and vomit from all over me. Suddenly I +was sobbing. + + + +As the piles of bloody flesh on the floor surrounding me continued +to grow, I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, and I was spun +around to face{\ldots}myself. I gazed in horror around me as I realised +all of the parts I had chopped off were growing into other versions +of me! + + + +This{\ldots}is the dawning of the age of Bavarious. + + + +The End{\ldots}? + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Hired Gun} + + +{\bf The Bodies of Bavarii} + + + +It was a haunting and horrid night in the city. Luke Bavarious sat +at the bar. He knew that nights like these only brought trouble. +All night, he had been feeling like he was being followed. He +sipped his drink and sighed. If only he was back at home with his +family. His wife and son had been killed in a tragic Beretta +incident. Thinking of their deaths made Bavarious want to vomit. +Instead, he had another drink. This was his fourth one +tonight. + + + +After paying for his drinks, Bavarious put on his jacket and walked +out onto the dark street. He knew that every alley and dark corner +could be hiding a horrifying secret. He still felt the presence +following him, but he put it out of his mind. Cautiously yet +fearlessly, Bavarious began the five block walk to his apartment. A +few minutes later, he suddenly heard the unmistakably terrible +sounds of screams. These were no ordinary screams. These were +screams of murder. Bavarious ran into the alley, his Beretta in +hand. It was so dark that he couldn't see anything. He also +suddenly felt that he was no longer being followed. + + + +Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the sky and illuminated the +scene in the alley. Bavarious could barely stop himself from +vomiting when he realized that there was blood everywhere. And he +was covered in it. Each drop of rain smeared the blood into his +face and his clothes. Another flash of lightning revealed the true +horror of the alley. The blood came from two bodies. The bodies of +his wife and son. Their deaths were no accident after all. +Bavarious stared at his Beretta. He noticed that half the clip was +empty. + + + +As sirens rang in the distance, Bavarious knew he had no other +choice. As blood and vomit flowed down the alley, the sound of one +final gunshot pierced the night. The body of Luke Bavarious fell +next to his son. For a moment, the two pairs of dead eyes met. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Danger408} + + +{\bf The Torrid Connection} + + + +Cleaning his Beretta for the third time that day, and taking a swig +of cheap whiskey, Luke Bavarious pondered his current case. + + + +``This is going nowhere'' he thought. The case was +different, it wasn't about helping others --- it was +about helping himself. After seeing the face, the one so much like +his own, yet so different; things had changed. He tried to forget, +but all he could remember was the blood, all of the blood, the +blood everywhere. ``Was that really me?'' He didn't +know. + + + +He glanced down at the picture of his son he always had on his +desk. The divorce had been rough, and he hadn't seen him in +while. Taking another swig from his bottle, suddenly he turned as +he heard a knock at the door, followed by two more in quick +succession. He hid the bottle behind his desk, hoping to appear a +bit more professional. + + + +He didn't have to respond however, as the mystery person had +already opened the door. + + + +``Hello,'' A beautiful woman started, ``I need your +help.'' + + + +``Have we met?'' He asked. + + + +``I don't believe we have,'' she replied. ''I +got your name from a friend. It's doesn't matter though +- I have a case for you. My husband is missing. I need you to find +him, and I hear you're the best at what you do.'' + + + +``I'm not taking any more cases{\ldots} I have a lot of +personal shit to deal with. Besides, you really don't want me +to take the case.'' He paused for a moment. She looked +familiar, a face he knew he had seen, perhaps in another life, but +couldn't put his finger on who it was. She looked good +though. + + + +``I'll do anything.'' She pleaded as she removed +her shirt. Luke had always prided himself as being a man of ethics, +but ethics only went so far. As he removed his shirt, he added, +``I'll take the case!'' + + + +They commenced sexuality. It had been a long time for both of them, +too long in fact, as it seemed like it would be over before they +even started. + + + +As he lit up a pair of cigarettes, he once again got the feeling +that he knew her from somewhere. He knew her named started with an +``L'' but he couldn't remember the rest. + + + +``Are you sure we haven't met before?'' He +asked. + + + +``Now that you mention it, I think we have.'' She added +as she began to pull at her face. + + + +She stretched and tugged, as vomit-like ooze poured out of her. She +tore away pieces of herself, discarding them on the floor like a +used condom. It seemed that the only thing left was a bloody mess +--- until she wiped it off, revealing a familiar face{\ldots} +His own. + + + +Scared half to death, and knowing that the other half would soon be +complete, he managed to say, ``Listen to me{\ldots} Whatever +you do{\ldots} Don't touch my son{\ldots}'' He knew he +should have spent more time with the kid. + + + +Finishing him off in more ways the one, the once-woman's +transformation was complete. Dressing in his cloths, and putting on +his badge, she was the new Luke Bavarious. Was it a monster? Or +could the real Luke from the future? Some questions aren't +meant to be answered. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Safe Driver} + + +These stories are great! + + + +{\bf Hell Cab} + + + +``Wake up, Bavarius! Wake up! Wake up!'' The +dispatcher's voice screeched through the radio. + + + +Luke Bavarius was asleep behind the wheel again. + + + +``Wasn't sleeping, just resting my eyes.'' + +The radio buzzed back ``{\ldots}1977 Ruminate Way, pick +up.'' + + + +At night the fares usually tip well. Mostly it's vomiting +drunks with wallets that are just as loose as their mouths. +Luke's been pulling a lot of late shifts driving his taxi. +They help keep his mind occupied from the hand life dealt him. His +wife is gone now; it's just Luke. The cancer came out of +nowhere. It cashed in his wife's last chips. It ate her up +from the inside, destroying their lives. All Luke could do was pray +and make empty promises as the doctors ran their constant tests and +hooked up more tubes everyday. It never went back to being right, +she never got better. + + + +With all of his time being devoted to his dying wife, Luke +ostracized everyone else around him. Even their only child, Bryson +Bavarius was ostracized {\ldots} ostracized with extreme prejudice +that it would make you vomit. Luke's neglecting of the rest +of his family lead to more trouble for them. Bryson Bavarius needed +daily injections to keep his type X diabetes under control. The +injections never came. Bryson accidentally ate an entire bowl of +sugar. The moment the sugar touched his lips, Bryson's face +exploded like a pus filled vomit balloon. He died. When Luke found +his body weeks later, the room reeked of rotting vomit and glucose. +Luke told his wife that the boy could not make it to the hospital, +he was just too sad. His wife got worse with each passing +day. + + + +Luke would never forget his wife's final words; it has +haunted him since that day. ``You lied.'' In her final +twitches a pressurized pocket of vomit burst from her mouth. Then +it was over and it was just Luke and his night shift. + + + +The address dispatch sent Luke to was an empty lot; nothing there +but silence. Luke began circling around the lot. It was probably a +crank call. Out of nowhere the read door is yanked open and a +passenger jumps in. + +``Christ, I didn't even see you! Gave me a scare there, +well where to?'' + +Luke looked into the rear view mirror. The passenger's +familiar eyes were empty and cold. The passenger smiled and +Luke's heart skipped a beat. The smile turned into a +grimace. + + + +``Drive Luke, you're just going to drive.'' The +voice was hollow. + + + +Luke's taxi pulled into gear. None of the streets were +familiar anymore. They turned into endless circles of blurred +buildings and drab scenery. Luke had never been so scared in his +entire life, and he did not know why. He vomited on his lap. The +taste was like the final taste he had of his dying wife. +Bile. + + + +The same horrible voice broke Luke's confusion, + +``Keep on driving Luke, we're almost there.'' + + + +They made it. Luke Bavarius didn't wake up. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{ Livestock} + + +Obviously I'm exempt from winning (and not likely to anyway), but I +thought I'd give it a try. + + + +{\bf Destiny Calls + +A Luke Bavarius Mystery} + + + +Luke Bavarius was on edge. For months he'd been receiving +terrifying phone calls from a mad man. The telephone would ring, +Bavarius would pick up, and that horrible voice would speak. + + + +``You're dead, Luke Bavarius. {\em Deeaaaadddd{\ldots}}'' + + + +``Who is this?'' Luke would respond. ``I'll get you! I'm a cop, you +idiot!'' + + + +``It doesn't matter, Luke. The law cannot stop me.'' + + + +Luke wondered what the calls meant. They happened every night at +midnight. Luke knew that midnight held special significance to +satanic cults and the criminal element. In his work as a gritty New +York City detective he had made many enemies. He could scarcely +keep track of all the men he put behind bars, let alone which ones +still harbored a grudge. + + + +Luke could barely sleep. In his dreams he was chased by shadows. +Glimpses of dark alleyways and shattered mirrors haunted his +slumber. Luke was near his breaking point. What did it all +mean? + + + +{\em Ring!} The telephone rang. It was midnight again. Heavy beads +of sweat started oozing from Luke's forehead like anchors dropping +from ships at port. + + + +``Who is it?'' Luke answered angrily. + + + +``Now, now, Luke. Don't be so angry. It's just your old +friend.'' + + + +``You're no friend.'' + + + +``And you're dead, Luke Bavarius. {\em Deeaaaadddd{\ldots}}'' + + + +Luke slammed the phone down. His heart was racing like Big Brown in +the Kentucky Derby: fast and determined. Luke took a swig from his +flask. He knew he had to do something. How long could this go on? +Not much longer, Luke thought. + + + +It was time to involve his friends at the station. Luke called in a +favor from Jim Centauri, an expert at tracing phone calls. Jim +hooked his equipment up to Luke's phones, and the two waited until +midnight. Nothing happened. + + + +``Damnit!'' Luke yelled. ``He calls every night. {\em Every +night!} + + + +''It's probably just a prankster, Luke. Don't let it get you down. +Anyway, maybe he got tired of calling you.`` + + + +Jim packed up his equipment and headed home. Luke thanked him, but +felt disappointed he had no answers. Then it happened. The thing +Luke was least prepared for. + + + +{\em Ring!} + + + +''Not again!`` Luke yelled, staring at the ringing telephone. He +debated answering, or letting it sing its horrible, shrill song. +Finally, Luke could wait no more. He reached his left hand out and +clutched the phone, squeezing so tight it would die if it were +alive. + + + +''Nice try, Luke. But you'll have to figure out who I am on your +own.`` + + + +''Who are you?`` Luke demanded, his voice surging with anger. + + + +''Don't you know, Luke. Don't you know who I am?`` + + + +''It's only a matter of time before I find out.`` + + + +''Sooner than that, Luke. Don't you recognize my voice?`` + + + +Suddenly a horrible realization came over Luke. ''No. No! No!!!`` he +cried out. He looked to his right, and he was holding a second +telephone. + + + +''All this time, Luke. It was you. It was me. It was +{\em us}!" + + + +Luke heard a click. He looked to his left. The telephone in his +left hand was gone. Now it was a cocked Beretta pointed at his +skull. Suddenly he gulped. {\em Click.} + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{JohnnyThreeToes} + + +{\em Horrid Transformation} + + + +A man lives in that abandoned house at the end of the street. He is +old and secret, nobody knows that he is in there. Those that do +know don't suspect it is a man, but maybe a dog or a cat living in +the house. There is strange foggy weather over that house. Tonight +thunder rumbles all around the house in the air. + + + +The man sits at his counter and does not say a word. There is no +one to say it to. He is alone. Pain is in his staring eyes. Pain +from loneliness. Depressed pain. A bowl of eaten cereal is in front +of him. He is frowning, not satisfied. Some open bags of dog food +surround him, too. + + + +Horrid thunder surrounds his house and then there is a flash of +lightning. The man has had enough! Enough of this civilization +where people shun him for his talent. They could never understand. +The man grins and puts on a collar. There is another flash of +lightning and by the end of the flash the man has changed into a +dog. He will do what he always does tonight like every night. He +will wander around until somebody takes pity on him and pets him +and feed him. As a homeless human society hates him, but as a dog +he is the greatest thing ever to them. Life is funny that way, he +silently thinks, walking out the door into the lightning. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{King Plum the Nth} + + +This is just too much fun to let go. If it's not kosher to enter +more than once, I apologize and will be happy to remove one of +these. Ben Biddick, you magnificent bastard, thank you for +providing such a rich literary vein to mine. E: correcting an +annoying number of typos. + +* * * + + + +{\bf Flow My Tears, the PI Said.} + + + +The kids from the neighborhood pooled their money to hire me. All +the kids on that street in the Bronx, in New York. One slow day I +was getting ready to leave the office a bit early when a kid pushed +open the door with my name, Luke Bavarious, and my job, private +detective, painted in neat black letters on the gray pebbled +glass. + + + +``Mr. Bavarious?'' he said. + +``That's what it says on the door, kid.'' He looked +like he was about 12. + +``My friends and I need to hire a private detective to find +Mikey.'' He walked across the room trying to look brave, +shoved a hand in his jeans pocket, pulled out a wad of crumpled +\$5's and \$10's, and set them on my desk. + + + +I eyed the dough suspiciously. It looked sticky and damp. I +can't remember ever not wanting to touch money before. I +reached out gently and poked at it. Maybe \$45 bucks. Maybe less. It +wasn't enough to pay for the time it'd take me to take +a piss all over their sorry case. Whatever it was. + + + +``Your mother know you're here, kid?'' + +``Mister, Mikey's been missing, and all our parents and +the cops say he ran away, but we know he got taken.'' + +``Taken by what, kid?'' + +``Taken by a nameless horror, sir.'' + + + +I looked at the dough again. ``I charge a hundred and fifty an +hour, kid. In this traffic it'd cost ya another two fifty +five just to get me to set foot in the Bronx.'' The kid looked +like he was going to cry. I swore under my breath, stood, and +grabbed the cash from my desk. Shoving it into my pocket I said, +``Never mind. I'll bill this Mikey's folks for the +difference if I find him alive.'' The kid started sobbing +then. Really hard. While he got it out of his system, I opened my +desk drawer, pulled out my trusty Beretta and checked the +magazine. + + + +Once I got to the Bronx it didn't take me long to find out +what had happened. Sometimes my job calls on me to fight monsters +of a supernatural nature. Sometimes I find myself buried neck deep +in the blackest culture, the world of the gothic and occult. But +sometimes the monsters are more horrible than monsters because +sometimes the monsters are men. And this monster was a man. He was +a homeless pedophile. Mikey wasn't his first but, by god, he +was going to be the last. I pulled my revolver and pointed it at +him, + + + +``This is the end of the line, hobo.'' + +``You won't kill me, Bavarious! I used to be a cop. Like +your father. It's against the law to kill me no matter how +many kids I raped and killed.'' + +He had me. I knew, and he know, and my father --- god rest him +--- had known, no matter how many kids you rape and kill it +only warrants murder in certain states and then only after a +lengthy judiciary process. But, looking at poor Mikey's +broken, rotten corpse, I just wasn't sure if any of that +really mattered. + + + +The sick hobo followed my gaze to the body of his most recent +victim. + + + +``Oh, him? Don't worry about him. He liked +it.'' + + + +And that's when I snapped. Everything became crystal clear. I +wasn't sure what was right or wrong anymore but there was one +thing I knew for damn sure. Mikey didn't like it. + + + +I pulled my trigger. My Beretta belched hot lead. The shell hitting +the warehouse floor made a sound like a polite cough afterward. A +ragged, bloody hole exploded in the monster's gut. He +stopped, stared at his gory wound and began to vomit. Vomit flowed +from his mouth and, after a second, shot from the bullet wound in +his stomach too. I pulled the trigger again and again, each time it +was less for anger and more for mercy. I perforated his neck. He +kept vomiting. The vomit flowed from his mouth and gut and the hole +in his neck. I put a hole in his head --- right between the +eyes --- his eyes crossed looking up trying to see his death +wound. His body heaved again and again, and vomit poured from his +forehead too. Torrents of blood and bile and breakfast pouring from +four holes on his body, three of them man made. + + + +Finally, I could take it no more, my stomach surrendered and I +vomited. As I vomited, my eyes slipped back to the body of the +monster's latest victim and I wept and my tears commingled +with the vomit. There we stood, the two of us, vomiting. The psudo +mythical hero and the psudo mythical monster over the poor broken +body that had so recently vomited a child's soul into the +afterlife. In a way, we were brothers, in vomit. He fell to his +knees. He died. And, although I stopped vomiting, eventually, I +could not stop sobbing. I cried so hard the flow of my tears washed +the vomit away. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Yogi Byron} + + +{\bf Horror D'oeuvres} + + + +I am on the verge of tears by the time I arrive at Espace, as +I'm sure that I won't have a good table. However, the +maitre'd shows me my place, a cozy booth next to an aquarium, +and I feel relief wash over me in an awesome wave. I sit down. The +sound of knives scratching against bone china, however, sets my +nerves on edge. My name is Luke Bavarious. I am a private +detective. I like my work. + + + +Complaints had been trickling in for a little over a year about +cases of food poisoning emanating from this restaurant. I look +carefully over the menu and order a lobster roll with arugula +bedding. I choose this food in particular because it is my +assignment to stop these complaints. + + + +My suspicion is first aroused by a loud belch from the table +directly to my left. The gasses reverberate against the glass of +the aquarium and offend my nostrils. A dark and horrid man is +clutching his stomach, fork gripped tightly in his free hand. This +scene elicits a grimace of pain from his face, and, suddenly, he +shouts violently, jabbing the fork into his abdomen. A stream of +vile stomach acid and gastric juices billow forth, burning his +hands in acidic bile and causing him to vomit from behind pursed +lips onto the tablecloth in front of him. My Beretta is already +drawn as I attempt to calm the surprised crowd that is gaping at +the food-poisoned man. His wife has urinated onto the carpet and is +troubled by unwilling spasms that are shaking her body. I fire a +round into the plate of food that sits between them, while +grimacing. I snatch the ejected shell from my Beretta like +it's a flying bumblebee and place it in my mouth, clamping +down on the brass with my teeth to dull the pain of my miserable +and human, all too human, existence. + + + +Blood is now mixing with the bile and urine into a disastrous +chemical. I fire a round with my Beretta into the man, who is +gripping the tablecloth in pain. He giggles as he is relieved of +his cruel fate, lapsing into the sweet embrace of untimely death. I +draw a bead on his poor wife, who is sitting in a pile of her own +waste like a squalid dog or cat. I fire twice. Three shells hit the +concrete. ``You!'' I yell at a waiter hiding behind the +aquarium. ``Let me speak to your manager!'' + + + +He wipes his miserable face with a cloth. ``Beggin' your +pardon, but{\ldots}I am the manager,'' he says. I motion +towards the table with my Beretta. ``Sit down.'' I say. +While he takes his seat before the lobster roll and arugula, I +catch a glimpse of myself reflected in the glass of the aquarium. A +white shirt and cummerbund are smoothed elegantly around my +midsection, and on my right side is a gleaming nametag. ``Luke +Bavarious, Head Waiter, Espace.'' Suddenly, I am sobbing. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\chapter{I am NOT Luke Bavarius} +\by{Funk In Shoe} + + +Interviewee: LARRY BAVARIUS - 05/05/09 + + + + + + + + + +So what do you want to know? + + + +{\em Question.} + + + +Okay, see, this is something we're going to have to address +before it starts bugging me: You need to relax. + +I see you're tensing up there, a little already, why is this? +When we spoke on the phone earlier - when you called me up and +asked for this interview and I told you it would be no problem and +to come right over whenever you saw fit --- earlier you came +off so easy going, on the phone. I made coffee, did I not? + +Is this just a matter of you being the kind of person who really +knows her way around a phone but tends to come off sort of skittish +in person? No? Could you put that down Bic pen already? You know +the clicking, and all. I get skittish, too. Honestly it's +alright. + +You DO seem horribly tense. I am not, let me assure you, Mr. Ehl +Bee. There is no need to go all star struck on me. I am as much of +a nobody as you are, probably more of a nobody. + +Put the pen down, honey --- in lieu of that, just stop with the +clicking, please. I'm sorry. Do carry on. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Well the thing is, the way you're phrasing that is you want +me to tell you a certain mapped set of details about myself; +details you're likely more acutely familiar with than I am +myself. + +I don't know that I am related to Luke, as such. We +haven't had much to do with each other since he published +that{\ldots} Oh. Don't make that face. + +Okay, okay. Fine. So I am. Related. He's what you'd +call my identical half brother. I know right? It's a weird +way to put it and I apologize; I'm not trying to come off as +overly dramatic here or trying to yank you around or make myself +appear interesting or anything like that, really, it's just a +sort of neat way of recapping our shared genealogy. + +And so but yes, I am a couple of years older than Luke and yes, we +do share a good amount of absolutely top notch DNA. I've +never been able to figure out exactly how much, you know, +percentagewise et cetera, it's sort of a stupendously tricky +prospect. + + + +{\em Question.} + + + +Because we got, obviously, the same mom and but so, as fate would +have it, different dads. Tricky, because while my own dear sweet +padre is an entity completely separated from Luke's ditto, +they are, nonetheless, identical twins. This, their twin-inicity, +if you will, is what has made all my attempts at coming to terms +with the whole DNA snafu so far pretty frustrating. By now +I've pretty much just given up. This, having the same mother +and two different fathers who happen to be {\em appear} completely +identical, is probably also why you're still fidgeting with +that {\em God damned Bic}, even when I asked you politely and +repeatedly to put it down, because it's freaking me +out. + +I am not-I-repeat-not Luke Bavarius; and I am going to take the +fact that you're still not quite sure whether to believe me +or not on that, as a compliment that I am looking better than my +usual best today. + + + +{\em Question.} + + + +Well because look at me. Check out thith. See thith? Ow. This is +what the not-so-PC-crowd calls a hare lip. It's been fixed +up, but it's pretty obvious with the scar and all, especially +on the inside of the lip. Did you ever see a jacket photo of our +boy Luke with a scar like this? This male pattern baldness thing? +Luke dodged that bullet too. Where I'm 5.0 he's a good +6.1. It's a mystery, really. You should{\ldots} + + + +Question. + + + +{\ldots}I'm not finished, you should see our respective +family photos. For some reason he just turned out like a late and +slightly improved version of yours truly. Same parents, just +slightly better. It's bizarre. By the looks of it it's +the same parents in the same photo studio, doing the same awkward +pose with our respective and identical dads in the background, arms +wrapped around mom, wearing all red. Bizarre because so the kid in +the foreground is basically either me or, like, a really, really +pretty and tall and attractive {\em enhancement}of me. It's +just weird. I am not Luke. Convinced? Want me to whip out the +photos? No? + + + +{\em Question} + + + +Well I'm two years older. Dad and Not-Dad moved here together +and started a used car dealership on the eastside. You are aware of +all this, I am sure. Any profiler worth her salt, writing for such +a major magazine, will be aware of this. So but they moved here, +yes, opened up their dealership and started making good money right +off the bat. It was a couple of years after the bubble burst and +Dad and his brother were lucky-slash-clever enough to start their +business at a time when people were just starting to make money +again, but were still hesitant about, you know, spending it. +Everybody and their mom bought used cars back in those days. + +And so Dad meets our mom some forty-odd years ago and they fall in +love pretty quick and Dad moves out of whatever east side apartment +he's sharing with his brother at the time, and in with +mom. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +From what I've been able to ascertain, I came around some two +years later. Give or take. You'll have to --- stop +clicking --- you'll have to bear with me on the details. +At this point, the dealership is running like greased clockwork and +both Dad and Not-Dad are pulling in some serious moolah and Dad, +Not-Dad and mom start getting invited to you know, get-togethers, +shindigs, box socials, that sort of jazz around town with the +movers and shakers of whatever post-recession high society was in +function back in those days. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Well it started out as a sort of joke, you know. +Don't-You-Drink-Too-Much-Sweetie-Or-You'll-Get-Us-Mixed +up. Shits and giggles and lots of fun at parties with my Dad and +his brother showing up in identical suits and my mom pretending to +accidentally kiss the wrong clone et cetera. + +Shits and giggles right up until, and you've seen this +coming, right up until the three of them actually go and get so +drunk that my Dad passes out in a bathroom at some fundraiser, +slumped over a toilet for hours so that to this day he's got +horrible problems with his back, and Mom goes and sticks her tongue +down the throat of Not-Dad by mistake and by the time he gets to +object they're both too drunk to even care and mom decides +right there that for whatever reason, Not-Dad is a much better +kisser than poor, passed out Dad ever was. + + + +{\em Question.} + + + +I don't remember much, except for him drinking a whole lot +and never wearing anything but his underwear around the house, +really. And the yelling-slash-stomping. + +I remember asking him, once, like we're talking age three or +four here, where Mom had gone and he yelled at me. My dad is sort +of a dick. I told him he needed to stop yelling at me. He +didn't listen. I told him kids need to be respected and +listened to. No dice. + +He would have to be, a dick, you know, to stick me with the short +end of the DNA stick like he's done. Thith fucking thplith +lip! Ow! + +And so but Mom moves in with Not-Dad and lo and fucking behold THEY +spawn a kid too. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Yes. Luke. I see you have fathomed the basic concept of +{\em listening}, I am highly impressed. May I continue? Thank +you. + +So naturally, with my Mom gone off to shack up with his Brother, +there's no fucking way in hell Dad's dealership is going to +stay afloat, these two guys can't stand the sight of each +other. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Just {\em imagine} that! It's like some bizarro-universe +incarnation of self-loathing. Imagine waking up, hung over, and +stumbling into the bathroom, looking into the mirror and seeing the +face of the guy your wife is currently fucking, who is not you. +Then, suddenly, you are sobbing. One cannot even be-fucking-GIN to +fathom{\ldots} + +So yeah, anyway, there was that. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Well so they split it up. Put down a fuck-all huge chain fence +right down the middle of the store and the lot. Split the whole +place in two halves that were pretty much identical except for the +sign out front. Dad got the BAVA half, Not-Dad got RIUS. + +And, foreseeably, they started harassing each other pretty much +right off the bat. He'd bring me with him to work every now +and then. I'd hang around in the lot and play in the oldest +most derelict cars, the ones he couldn't seem to get rid of +anyway, and I'd watch Dad scream his lungs off, whenever a +potential customer went the ``wrong'', if you will, way +around the fence and into the RIUS-lot. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Just insane stuff; like he had this thing where he'd jump +onto the fence and hang there shaking it like a fucking deranged +chimp, rattling the metal, shouting how the guy who owned the +RIUS-lot was a no-good-for-nothing wife-stealer who also happened +to sell exceptionally horrible cars that no man with half a fucking +brain would ever want to et cetera et cetera. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Well Not-Dad would do the exact same routine whenever one went into +the BAVA lot. Sticks and stones. I'm not going to sit here and +assign blame. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +She never came around. I haven't seen her since she walked +out. He did bring Luke a whole bunch of times though. We'd +play. In the beginning, we'd play. There was always this +acute{\ldots} weirdness about it. Playing with him. Like seeing +yourself in a funhouse mirror that somehow made you just an eerily +tiny bit prettier than you are. We had to stop when they put up the +actual WALL --- as in the brick wall. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +They put it up in a moment of clarity I guess? Business had gone +way downhill for both of them, what with all the shouting and +fence-rattling and whathaveyou. It was sort of a necessity. They +even split the bill. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Ah well so but it didn't stop there. Because after the wall, +Dad got into this habit of sneaking into the RIUS-lot and greeting +customers like he owned the place; he might as well could have, +it's not like anybody could tell the difference. + +So he'd sneak into the RIUS-lot and greet potential buyers +and just do a hell of a good job at being the very worst salesman +he could possibly be, to scare them off. + +He'd make a show of keeping an open bottle of Jack on his +person while talking to customers, luridly coming on to any female +buyers slash wives slash children --- this earned him a couple +of impressive beatings that had him just look an AWFUL lot like the +kind of person you would not buy a car from --- he would follow +the buyer around the RIUS-lot going ``oh heavens no, you +wouldn't want to buy THAT; two words: DEATH TRAPS'' et +cetera --- until Not-Dad would finally spot him from inside the +dealership and coming rushing it, swearing and screaming, +effectively scaring off pretty much everybody. + +Of course, after a week or so, Not-Dad would reciprocate by pulling +the exact same kinds of stunts at the BAVA-lot and for a while +there everything was absolutely, completely apeshit. Care for a +drink? + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Well Dad started getting up early in the morning to beat Not-Dad to +work and lurk around Not-Dad's lot, impersonating him. +Not-Dad started doing the exact same thing. After a year or so, Dad +would clock in at Not-Dad's lot at seven in the morning and +visa versa. After a year and a half, they'd pretty much +swapped lots and spent most of their days scaring off the other's +half's customers. They stopped selling cars over the course of a +couple of months, in order to make sure the other didn't sell any +either. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Well they went bankrupt. Both of them, and spectacularly so. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +And so Luke beat me to it, is the gist of my story. He wrote this +entire thing down faster and much more eloquently than I found +myself able to. And don't think I did not try. I tried. The +day I heard that he'd gotten published, I had two hundred and +fifty type-written pages and was just about to finish up my own +rendition. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +Just another matter in which Luke Bavarius has proved to be that +teeny, tiny bit better than me, I am afraid. He's the genius, +he's the author. He's the one with his god damed +non-split face on the cover of dust-jackets everywhere. And so here +we are. And here {\em you} are. Digging up the dirt for your +fucking profile. + + + +{\em Question}. + + + +I don't even fucking care. You think I haven't told +this story? Who {\em told} you this story? Was it Luke? Mr. Ehl +Bee, mr. Writing-under-a-Pseudonym-to-be-artsy-Biddick, with his +prodigious talent and his intense, {\em fucking} eyebrows that he +probably picks like a bitch? Was it? It wasn't. It was me. I +want you to stand up, walk over to that bookshelf right there. Go +ahead. Pull out his book. It's right there. Don't think +I haven't bought it. I'm not your average bitter fucking +idiot. I have money to spend. Pull it out of the shelf and look at +him, on the dust jacket. Monochrome and unsplit, brooding. Go +ahead. It's me. + +Am I not the butt of a cruel, genealogical joke? My father +abandoned by love. I myself abanoned by fate. You want horror? Look +at his picture, then at me. + +Do you not see this? Has the whole god forsaken world gone mad? I +am telling you this story. I am the first incarnation of this +story. Who is this Luke Bavarius? Go head. Look at his picture. +Look at this Davidesque, seemingly retouched rendition of yours +truly. See all that is shared between us. Am I not the narrator? I +am L. Bavarius. Do I not deserve recognition? Look at his +face. + +Pick it up. Go the fuck ahead. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Zarimus} + + +{\bf Little Men} + + + +``It has happened again.'' moaned the dark clad priest, his rosary +clenched in his left hand. With his right hand he held the old +phone handset indicative of the respectable poverty of the church +office. ``Can you come right away?'' Father Dennis almost sobbed into +the phone. + +Evidently what he heard comforted him and he hung up with a +relieved laugh. He turned and smiled down at the silent young boy +playing with some small figures in the corner of the room. Father +Dennis stepped forward and patted the boy on the head in a friendly +way. ``Don't worry son, the detective will find out who brutally +murdered your father and that man in the alley.'' + +The boy did not look up, he was still playing with the small toys, +little metal figurines of soldiers and knights and trolls he had +been carrying in a small velvet purple bag ever since he and his +mother had arrived at the church. + +In a short while there was a knock at the door and Father Dennis +rose to greet the gray coated figure who introduced himself as +Detective Luke Bavarious. ``The body is in the alley behind the +church building.'' offered Father Dennis. ``You remember Nick, +Detective?'' he said, pointing at the silent boy. + +``Yes I do Father Dennis.'' said Luke Bavarious, gazing with intent +at the boy. ``Has he spoken yet?'' ``Not since his father was brutally +torn apart, just like the man in the alley.'' Father Dennis faced +the grim detective squarely. ``Is it a serial killer?'' + +Detective Bavarious said grimly, ``We don't know yet. Let me have a +look at that body.'' + +In the alleyway Luke nodded to the policeman guarding the crime +scene. ``Evening Bob. Know anything yet?'' + +The policeman shrugged. ``Just that he died in a lot of blood. His +arms ripped off.'' Luke raised an eyebrow in surprise. ``Just like +the boy's father. Who was this guy?'' The policeman didn't know, as +it turned out. Detective Bavarious wondered if they'd ever find out +who was responsible. + +Back in the church office, the boy Nicholas carefully set down a +small metal figurine that resembled a policeman. He then opened a +tiny wooden box he took from his velvet bag and gazed silently at +the two broken figurines it held. Both had their arms torn off. The +boy picked up the policeman figurine and with a swift motion, tore +off both arms. + +From the alley behind the church, he could already hear the +screaming. + + + +{\bf The End} + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{CannedMacabre} + + +{\bf For the Children} + + + +Norma's Diner is a horrible place to get a cup of joe. The only +reason I was there was to meet a mysterious client that had +insisted on anonymity. He had reached me twice by phone in the past +three weeks and only identified himself as Mr. M. I told him that I +would only take the case if we met face to face. Mr. M contacted me +again this morning by text message to say that we should meet here +at Norma's at 10:30 sharp. + + + +Its now 10:45. + + + +I'm Luke Bavarious, Private Detective, and I don't take a case +without knowing the client, and I don't like to wait. + + + +The waitress pours me another cup of swill as I look over my notes +on Mr. M's case. He says he is being stalked and that threatening +messages are being sent to his e-mail and voice mail. He hints at +the fact that some people are trying to blackmail him. He even +casually ponders whether his life may be in danger. Its really not +much to go on but with the clock ticking, I am beginning to wonder +if someone might have already done the guy in. + + + +Its 11:00. + + + +The only reason that I haven't gotten up and walked out yet is that +a manila envelope with five 100 dollar bills was slipped under my +door this morning with the words ``from M'' on it. I figured that I +would at least wait out the hour before going about my day. Maybe I +will choke down another cup of the vomit they call coffee in this +dump. As I raise the cracked mug to my mouth I hear the little bell +on the door sound followed by a loud voice: + + + +``HEY! What I tell you about those friggin skates in my +restaurant?'' + +I turn to see a smallish kid with a stunned look on his face nearly +crap himself. He has a giant book bag on his back and is wearing +those shoes with the wheels in the heels. Heelers? Heelies? + + + +``S-sorry mister, I forgot.'' He says sheepishly and hangs his head +down in the embarrassment of all eyes being on him. He sits down at +the table across from me and takes out some school books and a +notebook. The waitress brings him a cherry Coke and puts a hand on +his shoulder for just a moment, then goes back to her cigarette +burning at the counter. + + + +Poor kid. + + + +I look down at my watch for a second and notice that ``M'' is now a +full hour late when I hear that sheepish little voice again. + + + +``Sir, can I talk to you for a moment?'' the kid is right next to me +with his bag hanging half way off his shoulder. + + + +``Uhhh{\ldots}Listen kid{\ldots}'' I start to say some rhetorical crap about +being a busy man or having some place to be, but something in my +gut tells me that not enough grown ups have made time for this +kid. + + + +``You know what{\ldots}Yeah. Sure kid, have a seat.'' + +His eyes light up and he throws his bag into the seat next to me +and grabs his Coke form the other table. + + + +``You're a private dick, right?'' The kid says. + + + +``Uh{\ldots}yeah, Detective.'' I respond. + + + +``Cooooool, I wanna be a P.I. too when I grow up. You carry a +gun?'' + + + +``Yeah, a Beretta, but it ain't all its cracked up to be. Sometimes +you gotta deal with a lot of scumballs and sometimes you just can't +help the people that hire you.'' I wasn't gonna BS the kid. If he +was keen on getting into this line of work, he better know +{\em exactly} what he was getting into. + + + +``Besides, even if you do solve the case, you get the bad guy and he +gets what is coming to him, it can leave a bad taste in your +mouth.'' + + + +He nodded a bit in agreement and turned his eyes down towards his +drink. He was quiet for a moment and then suddenly he spoke in a +voice that was not at all sheepish or meek: + + + +``Detective Bavarious, Mr. M wont be joining you today.'' he said in +a calm, controlled voice. ``In fact, I doubt that Mr. M will be +contacting you again at all.'' This statement chilled me to my bones +and instinctively I lowered one hand under the table to the Beretta +clipped to my belt. + + + +I was all ears. + + + +``You see, Det. Bavarious, Mr. M was being harassed, stalked and +blackmailed. and I am the one who was doing these things to him.'' +The kid's voice was deeper now, and I must admit that he commanded +my attention as few others could. + + + +``I targeted Mr. M for the crimes that he has committed against +children. He is a child molester and a murderer and I wish to see +him imprisoned for these crimes{\ldots}'' + + + +``Wait,'' I interrupted. ``A twelve year old kid has a man running so +scared that he pays a private investigator to find out who is +harassing him?'' + + + +``Det. Bavarious, my name is Nathaniel Stilling. On my twelfth +birthday my father beat me within an inch of my life and I spent +the next 4 months in a hospital. When I awoke from my coma I +promised myself two things: I would protect innocent children from +harm, and I would never have another birthday. That was 57 years +ago.'' + + + +I had no choice to believe him. From the beginning of our +conversation I had felt that I was in the presence of a wiser, more +virtuous man then myself. So when this kid, this small, sheepish +child told me he is a 69 year old man{\ldots} I believed him. + + + +``Look son,'' he continued, ``I know that you have the power to put +this monster away.'' With that he pushed a DVD in an unmarked case +across the table. + + + +``I wouldn't get curious about whats on that disc if I were you. The +things that man has done are not meant for our eyes.'' He slid out +of his chair and grabbed his book bag. + + + +``Oh{\ldots} and Mr. M's real name is Michael Wilkinson. He is a biology +teacher at Washington Junior High School. When you give the cops +the disc, just tell them that it was given to you by another PI +that knew who your client is.'' + + + +The boy then gave himself a big push on one foot and skated towards +the door on his heel wheel. + + + +``Dammit kid! I'm gonna skin your hide!'' The ape behind the counter +screamed. + + + +``S-sorry mister{\ldots}I forgot again.'' + + + +The End. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{BenBiddick} + + +you guys are phenomenal. I started going through these and am +loving it. dont worry about it Funk in Shoe. I'm just glad you put +something together for this event. Keep going all! + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Ridgely\_Fan} + + +{\bf ****Part 1 of: The Cocoon****} + + + +This place was new. + + + +My eyes took several seconds to adjust to the dim light, while I +slowly drank in my surroundings. My head was throbbing, and my +throat was parched. And it was cold in here. Very, very cold. + + + +I seemed to be in some sort of dungeon, as comical and absurd as +that sounds. Or the kind of thing an insane millionaire would build +to approximate a dungeon. Instead of cold, damp stone walls, there +were cold steel surfaces and unfinished concrete floors. Instead of +a brazier in the hallway, the ambient lighting was set low. They +got the stink right though, and of course the barred entryway that +looked like the door of a jail cell. + + + +I began going through my head, trying to figure out whom I'd +pissed off enough to get myself into a place like this, when I +heard a voice from a hidden loudspeaker. + + + +``Well well Mr. Landon. I see you're awake. I hope you +like your surroundings, you'll be here for some +time.'' + + + +``Who are you?'' I shouted. My voice was harsh and raspy. +``Why did you put me here?'' I was on the verge of tears. +If this was a prank or a trick, it was going way too far. + + + +``My name is Bravarious. Luke Bravarious. It's my job to +keep the good people of this city safe, and that means keeping +horrid creatures like you locked up down here.'' + + + +This had to be a joke. But if it was a joke, why go to such +lengths? I put my hand to my forehead to think. There was something +slick there. As I retracted my hand I saw it: blood. This crazy +asshole must have knocked me unconscious to bring me here. The +speaker started again: + + + +``Don't worry Mr. Landon, your headache shall soon pass. +Your kind heals quickly, even in your cocoon state. I can see +you're confused. All shall become clear shortly.'' + + + +This was some Silence of the Lambs shit. I remembered back to that +movie, the FBI agent said it was smart to get the serial killer to +recognize his victims as human. Maybe I can do something like that +here{\ldots} + + + +``Mr. Bravarious, I can barely hear you through the speaker. +Why don't you come down and talk to me through the bars? +I'd like to talk man to man anyway.'' + + + +There was some silence. He seemed to be thinking it over. After a +short time (surprisingly short) I heard a familiar voice in the +doorway. + + + +``I don't see a problem with that.'' + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Ridgely\_Fan} + + +{\bf **** Part 2 of: The Cocoon****} + + + +The man in the doorway was short and stocky. Pudgy even, though it +was hard to tell in his trenchcoat. His hair was thinning, and had +been clumsily combed to the side. His face shone from sweat or +grease. This guy needed a bath. At least it gave me some idea of +who I was dealing with. + + + +``Mr. Bravarious, why did you take me here? Is this a joke? If +it is, I'll keep it between just us guys, you got me good. +Just let me go.'' + + + +I hoped he couldn't hear the fear or despair in my +voice. + + + +``I can tell that you're scared Mr. Landon, but that +fear too will pass, as you emerge from your cocoon.'' + + + +This guy was crazy, but he was not going to be easy to manipulate. +I know it's not a good idea to feed into the fantasy of a +schizophrenic or crazy person, but I had to know what he was +talking about. + + + +``What do you mean cocoon? Is this some metaphorical +thing?'' + + + +``Not exactly, Mr. Landon. You are one of an ancient race. A +race that has hunted humans for millennia. A predator that acts +like a parasite. Your kind leave its offspring in the form of a +human for humans to raise. When that offspring reaches adulthood, +it abandons its cocoon and emerges a hunter. Fast, powerful, +unstoppable, and hungry. + + + +``I'm saying that you are one of these offspring. In just a +few weeks you will emerge. But instead of hunting humans, you will +stay here. I have prepared food for you.'' + + + +Bravarious pointed to a corner of the room, where I could now make +out a pile of decaying meat scraps. That explained the cold and the +stench. I wretched and nearly threw up. + + + +``That's disgusting!'' + + + +Bravarious appeared calm. ``I thought you liked uncooked +meat.'' + + + +``I like a rare steak, not a rotting pile!'' + + + +``So your transformation has not yet started.'' + + + +It seemed like he had some twisted explanation for +everything. + + + +``How do you even know I'm one of these +things?'' + + + +Bravarious started to look self-satisfied. Maybe I'd struck +the right chord. + + + +``It was a simple matter of checking the records at an +orphanage where the last of your kind was known to feed. You had +certain{\ldots} traits. I confirmed these traits by watching you +for the last two weeks. There is no uncertainty Mr. Landon, you are +the monster I was assigned to capture.'' + + + +I hadn't seen anyone following me. Who knows if he really +had. It was just as likely that he was lying or had just imagined +it. + + + +Still, how did he know I was adopted? Did he know about my suicide +attempts as a youth, about me dreaming of harming the others in the +orphanage, my insane pleas for them to kill me? The years of +therapy that my adopted parents paid for? How could he know? He +spoke again before I could ask. + + + +``Now Mr. Landon I have other duties to attend here. I must +assume you'll be alright.'' + + + +``No!'' + + + +I had to think of something quickly. I rubbed my forehead +absentmindedly, breaking the scab that had formed there. Blood +flowed anew. I had an idea. + + + +``Mr. Bravarious, I haven't turned into one of these +monsters yet. That means I'm still human. I'm human and +I'm hurt, and I might die of thirst. Please just give me some +water and some bandages before you go.'' + + + +He appeared to think this over very carefully. ``Very well, +you cannot harm me in that state. I shall return +shortly.'' + + + +He was right, I couldn't hurt him. What was I going to do? I +started feeling angry at my predicament, angry at this crazy +bastard for locking me up. The anger dissolved my fear. I had to do +something myself, I couldn't wait for the police or +whoever. + + + +I heard footsteps, and crept beside the doorway. + + + +``Mr. Landon, I am leaving your supplies beside the +do-`` + + + +Bravarious didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before +I grabbed him through the bars. He struggled at first, but I put a +stop to that by smashing his face into the door several times. An +eye for an eye. + + + +I found the key to the dungeon in his pocket. The maniac also had +an old filthy Beretta, loaded and with the safety off. + + + +As I let myself out and stepped into the hallway, I slid Bravarious +into the room to take my place. I was feeling much better. The joy +at my freedom, and my survival, was starting to cure my +headache. + + + +Just before I closed the door, I smelled the meat in the corner. I +hadn't eaten for days. I started salivating. Looking down at +Bravarious, I felt a new urge. An urge that was new to me and yet +felt timeless. Prehistoric. This all made sense now. Yes, he was +right, it would be several weeks before I emerged, but he +didn't realize that before that came the hunger. I would need +to feed before my transformation. And so feed I did. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Ridgely\_Fan} + + +Oops. + +Uh, my story features Luke Bavarious' distant Romanian cousin, Luke +Bravarious, also private investigator. + + + +Also: + +Edited to include the main theme and to fix some grammatical +problems. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{raptorred} + + +This turned out a lot longer than I expected, but I had more fun +writing it than I'm willing to admit. {\em Except I just +did.} + + + +{\bf THE BLOOD GAME} + + + +Once there lived a maniacally demented hag. The kind of person +whose cruelty made the blood run cold and the nose hairs stand on +end. She made her dwelling in a blood-red house in suburbia, rife +with infantile girlie crap like odiferous flowers. And those stupid +little porcelain cats which weren't even real cats so they +didn't have blood or guts or anything in them. Also it was +1992. + + + +Fortunately for her, there was one element in her dark life that +kept her existence from being as miserable a waste as a Slip +`n' Slide in December: her perfect son, Luke. Luke was +the age of a 12-year-old, with brown hair and searing obsidian eyes +that were like pits down into his soul and his blood-filled +innards. As sons go, Luke was practically the best. He sometimes +took the trash out. And he hardly ever skipped school or beat up +his stupid little sister until she cried and pooped her pants with +grimy blossoms of baby turds which were sometimes reddish enough to +pretend they were blood. But they weren't. + + + +Luke hardly ever asked for anything. At least not unless he really +really super duper wanted it. And every quivering droplet of blood +in his body boiled with agonizing desire for a Sega Genesis with +Sonic the Hedgehog 2. He wanted it so bad he could puke. Puke until +he shrieked with the euphoric laughter brought on by true +happiness. A happiness he would never know. Not if his scheming +mother had her way. + + + +``Honey, we can't afford it right now,'' +Luke's mother hissed from her blood-red lips. ``Maybe +for Christmas.'' + + + +But Luke was as clever as he was dashing. He could tell she +didn't really care. She didn't even look up from the +boring pieces of paper covering the kitchen table. She spent most +of her time with those papyrus slips. Far more than she ever did +with him. Luke had had enough. + + + +``You will pay for your cruelty,'' he announced. His +veins bulged with brutal wrath. Blood wrath. + + + +``Lucas Theodore Bavarious! Go to your room!!'' If he +could have, he would have vomited blood in her ugly face. If you +could call the grotesque mask of suburbia a face. But she was on +the other side of the kitchen so he'd probably just get it +all over the floor or something. So he went to his room. + + + +In his room, Luke's eyes went dark, darker than the slick +polish of a brand new 16-bit gaming machine that had his name on +it. His heart contorted into something like a wad of coagulated +bubble gum. Except it wasn't really that much like bubble +gum, it was blacker and more pulsating and filled with the +trembling sobs of jillions of powerless kids before him who had +been denied justice. Also it probably would not have tasted like +watermelons, which was Luke's favorite flavor. It would have +tasted like blood. + + + +Somewhere in Mobius, Sonic the Hedgehog heard his cry. + + + +That night, Luke's mother went to bed. Nobody knew it, but +she had a twisted secret that was vile and also murky. To get ready +for bed, she took out a big secret pan of polish. The polish was +made out of blood. She polished all of the skulls of little adopted +boys who died because they were denied the latest in awesome gaming +technology. She collected little boys like this for a long time in +secret. It was because she was crazy and evil and liked breaking +kids' spirits and tricking them into thinking she loved them. +But Luke was smart. He already knew such a selfish blood creature +couldn't be his real mom. + + + +But when she got into her bed, she heard a sound. It was a strange +sound. It sounded like buttons dribbling blood, only spookier. Then +she heard another, even stranger sound. It was the ghostly wail of +a Super Spin Dash, which was this awesome new move that they just +put in the new Sonic game that lets you go up hills and stuff and +any mom that wasn't pure evil would understand why her kid +had to have it. If a kid didn't have something like that, the +blood that coursed through his slimy organs would start shaking. +And the blood was so angry and so filled with sorrowful hate that +it would also turn into acid. Then his guts would get bigger and +bigger like water balloons, only water balloons filled with blood +instead of water. Until they exploded, spewing blood and guts and +acid everywhere. Then the whole room would melt and the mom's +stupid floral print wallpaper would be ruined. + + + +That's what happened to those other boys. + + + +``Who's there?'' she asked, because she +didn't know what a Super Spin Dash sounded like. If she were +a good mom who bought her son stuff, she would know. Maybe it would +have been enough to save her. She was so scared that a little bit +of blood trickled out of her nose. It smelled like blood. + + + +Then something see-through flickered in the darkness. It was like a +whip, but really it was a cord attached to a controller. The +controller was attached to a terrifyingly awesome ghost Sega +Genesis. The ghost of the console that Luke should have +owned. + + + +Luke's mom tried to scream, but she was so scared that her +blood started to gush into her throat. She gurgled on bloody vomit +as two controllers (because Luke read in a magazine that Sonic 2 +would have {\em two player mode} and it'd be more awesome +than sliced blood and that was one of like a million reasons he had +to have it or he would implode into a pile of bloody guts) thrashed +out of the darkness and wound themselves around her neck. Then one +controller started whipping her in the head. She started crying +because it hurt. Then the controller started hitting her harder. +She cried bloody tears this time because it hurt even more. They +mixed with the bloody puke to make a sort of martini that was two +parts blood, one part tears, one part vomit. And all parts +terror. + + + +Then she tried to tear the controller out of the socket. But the +Sega Genesis is way too well made for a mere Mom to be able to +destroy it. It laughed at her with ghost beeps as her skin started +oozing blood for some reason that was really gross and scary. Then +one controller wound itself around her feet. The other kept winding +around her head. Her hair was full of blood and vomit and tears and +spiders for some reason. The Sega Genesis pulled and pulled and +pulled. + + + +``Luke,'' his mom gasped, a trickle of vomit seeping from +her hypothalamus. It made a gooey line in the blood that was +rupturing form her pores. ``I am so sorry.'' + + + +But it was too late. The Sega Genesis pulled her whole body in +half. Out of it fell a huge brick of hardened vomit-tear-blood that +was shaped like the inside of her body. It was because she'd +had so much vomit and blood and tears inside of her that it melted +all of her guts and hardened into a shell. The shell was shaped +exactly like a mean old mom. But the Sega Genesis wasn't +finished. + + + +A bell tolled in the distance. The siren for the Red Cross's +Bloodmobile whistled in the night. And the shell started shifting. +When Luke went into his mom's room the next day, there was no +sign of her. Instead was a perfect Sega Genesis. Made entirely from +hard blood. + + + +From the depths of his mom's dark closet a voice echoed. A +voice that sounded strangely like the Coolest Blue Dude with +`tude around: + + + +{\em ``Kids need to be listened to and +respected.''} + + + +Suddenly, Tails was sobbing. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Lorentz Factor} + + +Mind you, I've not done any creative writing since I was thirteen. +But figured, what the hell. + + + +{\bf It's just me, 'Luke'} + + + +I stepped from the shadows, those last shadows that were hastily +escaping as the sun pours over the cityscape. I had awoken only +moments ago, the sun's light entering my head like the scream of a +newborn during a hangover. I could not remember what had happened. +I was working on a case in the north end of the city, the details +still not coming to me. I remember driving, perhaps I had an +accident. I simply could not remember. Retrieving my shades from my +breast pocket to halt the screaming rays of sunlight that were +pounding at my spinning head, I noticed a door in side of the +building I had found myself next to. I needed a place to sit while +I waited off this pain in my skull. + + + +Opening the door, I was greeted with soft music from the big beat +band inside what appeared to be a small bar. Odd time for them to +be playing, I thought, but, never mind. I sat down at a table near +the door and grabbed the drink list. Interesting, they only seem to +serve whiskey sours{\ldots}fine by me, it's all I drink anyhow. After +ordering, the bartender returned with my drink, I asked him, ``Where +exactly am I?'' He chuckled, ``It's only 11pm and you're already +smashed,'' he continued his guffaws as he wandered back to his bar. +Sipping my drink, something the bar tender had said bothered me. +``11pm,'' but the sun had just come up; I checked my watch and it +said nine thirty-eight. My watch breaking wasn't new to me, I get +into rough spots quite often that my watch never makes it out of. I +decided I needed to find my way back to the office. + + + +As I left the bar it seemed that twilight was approaching. My car +was nowhere to be found. I walked south on the street looking for +anything that seemed familiar, when I came to an alley. Something +about this alley. I still could not remember. I walked towards the +opening between the two buildings to the alley. I heard a voice +behind me, ``Sir, I'm sure you don't want to go that way, won't you +continue down the street?'' It was a small kid, a strangely dressed +child. His pants were a grayish knee length trouser held up by +thick suspenders that draped over his cotton shirt. His boots also +were odd, laced up they met the short trousers leaving only an inch +of bare skin between them. ``Move along kid, I think this alley is +important.'' I told him. ``I'm thinkin' sir, you're going to be +sorry,'' he was saying as he wandered off around an +intersection. + + + +After my short talk with the child, I realized the sun had already +dropped behind the buildings to my west. I tried to get my +bearings. I wandered into the alley and the pounding in my head had +become so intense that my knees buckled. I tried to cry out in +pain, though the intensity of it all left me with little strength +and the sound escaped as more of a gurgle. The pain in my head +retreated with the sun's last light. I slowly stood from the fetal +ball I'd formed in my pain. As I was was rising a light shown +through the ingress of the alleyway. It looked like two headlights, +they were bright and I turned away. A man approached I heard him +shuffling through the broken stone of the ground in this ill kept +thoroughfare. + + + +``You there! What are you doing? Turn around!''. These words, that +voice. It all came back to me. ``Beggin' your pardon, but{\ldots} you +don't want me to turn around,'' I told him. ``Sure I do. I got a +pistol pointed at your back so ya better.'' I knew what he was in +for, I myself have seen this. It was my fault, it was his fault. If +I kill him, I won't have to go through this again. ``Okay, you asked +for it,'' I told him as I approached still hanging to the shadows. +He asked me to step out of the dark, what the hell. My life would +end soon maybe I can stop this cycle here and now. As I approached +the horror that twisted his face was intense. I doubt he recognized +me, I hadn't myself at first. I rushed him, hoping to reach him +before he fired his Beretta. I lunged as the first slug pierced my +skull. Several more rounds pierced me, the pain offset by my wish +to end this cyclic horror. Blackness was encroaching on my vision. +Things began to swim. I tried to warn him, but I doubt he +understood the wet blood filled, ``I am you, I am Luke +Bavarious{\ldots}''. I collided with him we smashed into a window. +Everything went dark. My nightmare was over, but had also just +begun. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{BatsBjorg} + + +Hope nobody else took this tactic -- I read through a lot of the +excellent and awesome entires in the thread, but wanted to get this +posted before time ran out. Without further ado: + + + +{\bf The Horrid Beginning of It All} + + + +Eleven-year-old Luke Bavarious stood frozen in the doorway to his +bedroom. He couldn't turn the light on. He wouldn't be +able to turn it back off from his bed. But he couldn't get to +his bed without the light on. He was in a real pickel. + + + +``Dad!'' Luke Bavarious yelled. Another year, another +month maybe, and he'd be too old to yell for his daddy. But +yell he did. ``Dad?'' + + + +Luke Bavarious could hear the sounds of the Mets game from the +living room. He could also hear the sound of another Coors popping +open. His father's alcoholism had become publicly known sense +his mother had left. Luke Bavarious thought his father was probably +about halfway through his Coors consumption. The Coors consumption +varied based on how poorly the Mets were playing, and right now +they were on a hell of a skid. Luke Bavarious got a not-unwelcome +rush from thinking the word ``hell.'' Hell, hell, hell, +he thought. Shit, hell. + + + +``DAD?'' One more time. + + + +``GODDAMMIT Luke! What is it now. I toldja gota bed fiteen +mints ago!'' Maybe more than halfway through the night's +Coors. + + + +``C'mere a sec!'' Luke Bavarious wouldn't +tell Bartholomew Bavarious what he wanted until he came to the +bedroom. + + + +``Goddammit{\ldots}'' Luke Bavarious heard his father +mumbling curses under his breath, heard his shuffling steps down +the hallway, and then he was there. Luke Bavarious could smell the +putrid stink of stale Coors and BO oozing from his father's pores. +Or maybe his unwashed undershirt. + + + +``Will you turn the light off for me after I get into +bed?'' + + + +``Jayzus! Notiss shit `gin!'' Luke Bavarious +watched, horridfied, as his father drunkenly reeled into the pitch +black bedroom. His father wiggled his ass at the closed closet +doors. ``Scareduh monshters? Monshter inna +closet?'' + + + +Luke Bavarious felt a thin stream of vomit rise up in his mouth, +then burn his throat as he forced it back down. His voice cracked. +``Dad, don't. Just{\ldots} just.. get the light, +wouldya?'' + + + +Bartholomew Bavarious ignored his son. Or maybe didn't hear +him over his own drunken whoops. ``Monshter inna closET! +Monshter inna closET!'' He sang over and over, in a childish +rhythm. Luke Bavarious stood, unblinking, unbelieving in the +doorway. He saw the closet doors rattle slightly. + + + +``Dad!'' His voice pitched upward, like a little +girl's would. It was the last time in his life his voice +would break like that. ``Dad, seriously. That's not a +good idea{\ldots}'' + + + +``NOTTA GUDDEA? Oh fuck you, Luke Bavarious.'' And with +that, his father threw open the closet doors, completely unprepared +for the horrid behind them. + + + +Luke Bavarious couldn't turn away. He saw a fountain of vomit +bubble up and spew forth from his father's mouth, but he +didn't notice his own vomit until later. It got all over his +feet. + + + +The horrid in the closet shot two tentacles out as fast as +lightning. Bartholomew Bavarious' eyes bulged, the Coors +leaving his body in a flood of beer-scented piss that soaked into +the carpet. The horrid's tentacles wrapped around Bartholomew +Bavarious' throat. Two more wrapped around his arms. A slimy, +barbed tongue eased from the horrid's mouth. It slashed +Bartholomew Bavarious' face open, clear from one cheek to the +other. Blood erupted from the face, mixing with the beer-piss in a +rusty puddle. + + + +``Oh dad!'' Luke choked out. The horrid turned its horrid +head for one horrid second. A glimmer of recognition flashed in its +horrid eyes, but only for a horrid second. Then it unhinged its +horrid, terrible jaws, vomiting forth a horrid stream of green, +acidic vomit. Bartholomew Bavarious' clothes started to steam +and simmer. The last thing Luke Bavarious saw were his +father's eyes plucked out and eaten, first one, then the +other. + + + +A single tear rolled down Luke Bavarious' cheek. Then +suddenly, he was not sobbing. He knew what to do. + + + +He sprinted to the bedroom his parents had once shared, back before +the Coors and the publicly known alcoholism. He took his +father's Beretta from the nightstand, relishing the feel of +it in his small hand. It was cool, in every meaning of the word. A +shock of what he would later know as desire prickled at his belly. +He raised the Beretta, testing it. He grabbed ammo and shoved the +gun in the waistband of his pants. + + + +From the bedroom that was once his, he heard slurping sounds. He +decided to take the shoes he'd left by the front door instead +of his favorite sneakers. Now that he thought about it, those were +kids' shoes anyway, and Luke Bavarious was a man. + + + +**Quick edit to fix an {\em unintentional} typo** + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Twigand Berries} + + +{\bf The Sack of Horrors} + + + +I polished off another set of ten and felt that good, deep burn. I +sat up from the bench and flexed, noting with pride the hills and +valleys of my bulging musculature. My sweat caused my sleeveless +shirt to stick to my body, and I thought to myself, ``Damn, Luke. +You look good.'' That's right. My name is Luke Bavarious and I am a +private detective. + + + +And let me tell you, smacking punks and thugs around, you need to +be in great shape. And when I'm not cracking the skulls of dopers +and adulterers, I hit the gym, pump some iron, and sculpt my body +into a machine. + + + +I couldn't very well meet up with my clients covered in sweat, so +like always, I hit the showers to clean up. As I approached my +locker, filled with my fitted suit, trenchcoat, and my Beretta +snuggled in its holster, my eyes were literally destroyed by a +sight that plagues my visits to this mosty holy Temple of the Body. +Sure enough, some old man was standing at the sink, shaving, +completely buck naked. + + + +His wrinkly body sagged in every place imaginable. Hair sprouted +from various places hair should probably not sprout from. His skin +was covered in spots and possibly sores. What he does at the gym is +a complete mystery, as his flabby body and gigantic swollen stomach +betrayed no evidence of any cardio or properly balanced muscle +training whatsoever. But the worst was his balls. His old, wrinkly, +sack hanging down from his groin farther than it would seem humanly +possible. I almost vomited all over the changing room floor. + + + +I grabbed my towel and hit the showers, this monstrous image burned +into my brain. As the water steamed off my red, ripped body I tried +to come up with a reason why these old men would ruin my work out +in this way. I come here to feel good and make myself into a god, +but every day I am assailed by these geriatric sacks of downward +flowing flesh, and am constantly reminded where we are all headed. +I scrubbed myself down, lingering my gaze over my own perfection, +to banish thoughts of old, naked balls out of my head. I needed a +drink. + + + +Instead of heading to my office and checking my messages for new +cases to crack, I headed down to my local pub hoping some old +friends would have the same idea. Sure enough, Brad and Hooksey +were draining some pints, and I sidled up to the bar next to them. +My mind was still spastic over the horrors from the gym, so I +broached the topic to my friends. + + + +``Brad, Hooksey{\ldots}you guys work out, it shows by the way, and I'm +wondering if you two encounter the same problem as I do,'' I +said. + + + +``Do tell, Luke.'' Brad leaned in, interested. + +``Yes, Mr. Bavarious. I love your stories!'' Hooksey exclaimed, +excitedly. + + + +``Well, friends, you know how after you burn through your reps and +it's time to clean yourself up, you go for a shower, right?'' I +asked. + + + +``Always.'' Brad said. + +``I like to shower.'' Hooksey replied. + + + +``Well, why is it that every time you go into the locker room, there +is some disgusting old man doing stuff naked? Like, I know you have +to change your clothes in there, and there will be a point where +you're naked, but these old guys are ridiculous. They get naked, +and then it seems like they don't want to get dressed again. They +stand around talking. They shave. They comb their wispy hair. They +spend more time naked in the locker room than they do exercising I +bet! And here I am trying to perfect my body, and I have to gaze +upon these leathery sacks of fat!'' I explained! + + + +``It makes me want to punch their faces off,'' Brad agreed. + +``I think I will vomit my puke up just thinking about their +disgusting naked bodies,'' Hooksey chimed in. + + + +Now, while I was telling this story, some young, scrawny punk came +into the bar trying to sell some candy bars for the Girl Scouts or +something and he overheard the whole thing. This punk felt the need +to chime in. + + + +``I don't know you gentlemen, but I couldn't help but overhear what +you are discussing. I think you should be ashamed of yourselves +talking about the elderly in this manner. They are deserving of +your respect. They won World War II so you can be free, and shame +on you for talking about them this way,'' the punk admonished. + + + +``Hey, now{\ldots}'' Brad exclaimed! + +``There are old germans!'' Hooksey rebutted. + + + +My friends were red in the face at the nerve of this punk, but I +knew how to end this argument. I slid off my bar stool, and turned +to the punk. He looked up at me with fear in his eyes, and I +casually opened up my trenchcoat. His eyes wandered down past my +ripped pecs and spied the Beretta casually hanging out in its +holster. The blood left the punk's face and he ran on out of the +bar, urine soaking his trousers. + + + +``Hahahahahaha,'' Brad laughed. + +``Hahahahahhaa,'' Hooksey laughed. + + + +I smiled, and turned back to my beer, thoughts of disgusting flabby +old ass gone for the evening. + + + +* * * + + + + +The next day I awoke with the urge to pump some iron again. I +hurried down to my gym and entered the locker room to change into +my work out clothes. As I was squeezing into my sleeveless tee, I +looked towards the sink. + + + +You guessed it. Just standing there, naked, in front of a full +length mirror was the most disgusting specimen of humanity you +could ever encounter. I would regale you with details of his +mottled, paper thin skin, or his liver spotted, veiny scalp, or +even how his biceps swung in the breeze, but it all pales in +comparison to the most disgusting old man balls I have ever +seen. + + + +I stood like a deer in headlights staring at this inverted mushroom +hanging for kilometers beneath an enormous, hanging gut. The gray, +crispy thicket that it sprouted from. The scraggly forest of pubes +that grew to ungodly lengths off the wrinkly, vein covered surface. +The swirl of reds and purples that colored its sagging surface. The +bumps and grooves. It was awful. + + + +I was transfixed in my disgust. But slowly I got a hold of myself +and my eyes raised from his lower regions, over his disgusting +flabby body, and onto his wrinkly face in the mirror. And to my +horror, his eyes matched mine in the mirror. He was watching me +watch him! + + + +And he smiled. A gap toothed smile framed in crusted lips. + + + +I ran from there. I entered the gym proper, fighting back vomit and +the desire to unload my Beretta into his nasty, smiling food +hole. + + + +The only way to recover from this was to focus every fiber of my +being into my workout. And I racked up an obscene amount of weight +onto the bar and reclined onto the bench. Screw warming up. I was +going to pump that disgusting image right out of my mind with the +sweet burn of my muscles pounding out ten reps of my maximum +benchpress. + + + +I hefted the bar off the cradle, balancing the weight between my +two pistons of might. I closed my eyes, and began to work my way +into the set. + + + +{\bf One.} + + + +The bar was lowered to my chest and I shot it back up with a +groan. + + + +{\bf Two.} + + + +My blood raced into my chest and arms, filling me with energy and +purging weakness. + + + +{\bf Three.} + + + +The burn began. It felt magnificent. + + + +{\bf Four.} + + + +I began to imagine the bar was some punk who dared to pull a gun on +me. And I was shoving his punk face off a cliff. + + + +{\bf Five.} + + + +I could feel the muscles in my biceps and triceps begin to quiver +with sweet burn. + + + +{\bf Six.} + + + +Maybe the punk was that punk from the bar. That punk who likes old +guy balls. Heh. + + + +{\bf Seven.} + + + +A warmth spread across my upper body as I heaved the bar up and +down, bringing it within a centimeter of my chest. + + + +{\bf Eight.} + + + +Images of disgusting balls were burned from my mind as I imagined +that punk kid being riddled with bullets, bursting from his back in +miniature explosions of flesh. + + + +{\bf Nine.} + + + +As I crested my ninth rep, suddenly the bar seemed to become twice, +no, ten times as heavy! I locked my elbows and gasped. It was +unbelievable! My elbows gave out and my arms began to shake as the +bar began to lower to my chest. I opened my eyes and looked +up. + + + +I moaned in horror! It was impossible! + + + +The bar was still there with the normal amount of weight on either +end. But between my gripping fists, in the exact center of the bar, +hung what could only be the {\bf THE SAME PAIR OF BALLS THAT +PREVIOUSLY HAD BEEN ATTACHED TO THAT OLD MAN!} + + + +And for the love of god, they weighed a ton! In fact, the weight +was so much that the bar was slowly being lowered down to my chest! +I stared in terror at this unholy scrotum that hung from the bar +just inches from my chest. It was all there. The unexplained bumps. +The crispy gray pubes. The mottled coloring. Oh my god! There was a +sore on the underside of one of its orbs! As my arms shook and +slowly lost control of this tremendous weight, I stared at +pulsating veins that throbbed in a spiderweb encasing the two +misshapened testicles that were contained within its leathery +pouch. + + + +My arms began to feel a million miles away. The numbness spread +along my humerus, over my clavicles, and into my quivering chest. +Sweat began to pour off me in sheets. I heard a distant mewling +sound, and realized it was me. + + + +The balls slowly descended. When they were inches from my chest, +the impossibly long gray pubes tickling and entwining with my own +chest hair, I saw a bead of brackish sweat appear from the patch of +hair that was located at the join of this evil ball sack and the +bar. It came as if from hell. It slowly tracked its way down the +elongated skin pouch, over wrinkles and around encrusted follicles. +As it beaded at the bottom of one hellish testicle, I began to +scream wildly for help. + + + +Tears sprang forth from my eyes, and I felt all strength fade from +me. The bar swiftly began lowering, and I knew my chest was going +to be crushed and my unblemished skin covered in sweaty old meat +sack. My life flashed before my eyes, and I realized my beautifully +sculpted body was about to be defiled for all time. + + + +``You need a spot, young man?'' came a voice from heaven. + + + +``God yes!'' I pleaded. And suddenly the crushing weight was lifted +off me. I began to sob in relief. My body was broken. I pulled +myself up to a sitting position and gazed up at my savior. + + + +It was the old man! He stood there, dressed now in ridiculous +shorts and v-neck white t-shirt, wiping his hands after racking the +devil bar. How could this be? I stared at the weight bar that had +almost killed me, and low and behold, the satanic ball sack still +dangled from its length. + + + +My fury gave me strength again! I leaped from the bench and grabbed +the old man, screaming ``You bastard! Why would you crush me with +your balls? I'll kill you!'' His face whitened in surprise and +fear. + + + +``What are you talking about, son?'' he stammered. + + + +I pointed at his dirty nut sack hanging from the bar. ``Fiend! You +almost crushed my ribs! You tried to dirty me with your geriatric +filth!'' + + + +``I don't know what you are talking about!'' the old man lied. + + + +``Trying to trick me, huh? I'll show you!'' I screamed. + + + +At this point a crowd had gathered, curious as to what the +altercation was about. I had to prove to them that this evil thing +was the source of the sack of horrors hanging from my bar. I +reached down and pulled his filthy shorts down and stood back, +pointing to where his groin was missing its satchel of bulbous +evil! + + + +The crowd gasped, and I smiled in triumph as I turned to face the +old man. My smile quickly left my face, for, suddenly, the scrotum +of Hell had reappeared in their proper disgusting place. I quickly +turned to the bar, and sure enough, it was no longer encumbered +with its evil payload. + + + +The crowd turned on me. No one would believe the horrors I had +endured. I was thrown out from the gym, and, in my crushing defeat +by the horrors of Hell, {\bf they did not refund my membership +deposit!} + + + +The end. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{henpod} + + +I cant help but think some entries are too long. If we are writing +in the style of the notable Mr Biddick, surely it shouldnt be +longer than about 7-800 words? + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Helmet} + + +{\bf Kindness of Strangers} + + + +Luke Bavarious was driving his squad car on Old Pine Road. A little +while ago, he had given an important lecture on drug abuse at the +local Middle School. Then he saw it: a black car parked in a field +where cars had no business being. He stopped. He walked over to +investigate. The black car had crashed into a huge, unforgiving +pine tree! Pine cones littered the ground like corpses after a +massacre. From the shadowy wreckage emitted a small voice. A +child's voice. ``Help me-e,'' it begged. + + + +Under his bullet-proof vest, Luke felt his guts tie in a series of +knots, each more complicated and painful than the last. ``Dear +God, not a child,'' he whispered. Around the car a moat was +forming of gasoline, battery acid and blood. Luke Bavarious blinked +back tears and inched forward. + + + +Inside the car was a man, dead at the wheel. An empty whiskey +bottle sat in the cup holder. Blood was everywhere. During impact, +the steering wheel had pushed through the man's mouth, +decapitated his tongue and snapped his spine like a \#2 pencil. Luke +looked away to keep from vomiting forth the complimentary meal he +had received in the school cafeteria. + + + +That's when Luke noticed the boy buckled in the back seat. +Possibly a seventh-grader, judging by his size. ``Dad, are you +okay? I told you not to drive drunk,'' the boy said. + + + +Luke stared. Perspiration sweated from his face. The boy's +eyes were gone, long gone, having catapulted from their sockets by +the car's sudden stop and the tendency of objects in motion +to stay in motion. The boy wept tears of blood from his disfigured +face. Luke now observed two splattered milky blobs oozing down the +front windshield like two unholy eggs from the bowels of +Hell. + + + +Afflicted with overwhelming instant insanity, Luke placed his +Beretta to his own temple and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened! +He looked at his firearm and realized the safety was on. Bavarious +giggled madly and flicked the safety off, then common sense +returned to his disturbed mind. ``Poor little fella,'' he +muttered between clenched teeth. + + + +``Is somebody there?'' the boy asked. ``Will you +h-help me?'' + + + +Luke fired one bullet, doing the job. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{invision} + + +{\bf Creature Of The Night} + + + + + +Bavarious. Luke Bavarious. I'm a detective. I carry a baretta. A +baretta so powerful only one man can handle it. And that man's name +is Bavarious. + + + +Luke Bavarious opened the door to exit the doughnut shop when he +heard it. Or at least he thought he heard it. He thought he was +hearing things again. Or was he thinking that he was thinking that +he was hearing things again? He glanced down the dark alley to his +right. He was definitely not thinking he was hearing things. The +creature exploded forth from his midnight fortress of cardboard +boxes oozing with the sludge from the rain soaked streets. The +creature exploded towards Luke Bavarious. The creature was vomiting +tears from its neck. + + + +Luke Bavarious calmy took a drag from his Lucky Strike cigarette, +then flicked it lazily, as if patting a dog on the head. He then +drew his baretta. He aimed it. He slowly squeezed the trigger as +one would squeeze a small centipede or other insignificant animal. +The shots rang out through the night, with the force of a +jackhammer shredding through the creatures skull. The creature +stopped dead in its tracks and slowly fell to its knees. It fell +from its knees to its belly, all the while vomiting from every +available creature orifice it could muster. + + + +Luke took a swig from his flask of EverClear 100% all natural grain +alcohol hidden inside his duster. He placed the flask back inside +his duster. He vomited. He approached the creature{\ldots} + + + +``Oh no. Oh God, NO!'' + + + +It was grandma. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Scissorfighter} + + +I tried to make it authentic Biddick Style. It also uses the +canonical ``body swap'' interpretation of the ending of ``The Horrid +Reflection.'' + + + +{\bf The Book} + + + +Trent Fencer was a bully{\ldots} He liked most to bully children. He +hated all children. Even little Timmy + +Ontario. What Trent didn't know was Timmy had found a book. A +horrid book. Timmy was angry one morning and decided to walk around +to clear some steam. He found the book poking out from under the +stairs of the house that he had moved into as his parents had +boughten it recently at an auction for houses that had to be put up +for sale due to the owner of the house having recently been +murdered in the house. It was a horrid house. + + + +The book had leathery bindings and a feint smell of some +body-emitted liquid he couldn't quite recall. He thought briefly of +pus or urine but decided that wasn't quite it. He then remembered +that he was angry. He angrily threw open the cover and looked at +the writing. It was in Latin so entirely hieroglyphic, but he saw +pictures of instructions{\ldots} Instructions on how to raise the dead. +It didn't take long before he thought of Trent Fencer and felt +angry. He was angry with Trent because Trent loved all of his +friends and hated only him. + + + +Trent Fencer was walking outside some houses early one morning. He +had gotten a message from his girlfriend Trish. Or so he had +thought! It said: + + + +``Hi Trent. Meet me in the graveyard. I'm horny, can you please +ravage my hot body with sex?'' + + + +Trent high-fived himself immediately after reading it and quickly +put his feet into a pattern of motion that would carry him to his +destination. He was happy to receive that letter. He had built up a +lot of power. Nuclear power, figuratively, where in this metaphor +his father was the nuclear power plant. His dad told him before he +left that his pants were too low and he should mow the lawn. With +every complaint or chore request, Trent got more and more charged. +His uranium was nearly at full capacity and he needed to pump out +some electricity to the general populous. + + + +He got there and turned his eye-muscles to gaze around at the +landscape. No Trish, only Timmy. Only Timmy and a book that sent +chills deep down into his spinal discs and lodged there. Horrid +book or no, he felt he could find another way to distribute power, +so to speak. His feet had already moved him up to in front of +Timmy's face and he barely noticed. His fist coiled back like a +cobra then launched forward like the challenger shuttle, exploding +on Timmy's cheek. Timmy's eyelids exploded open in a shocked +expression, while his neck exploded out in veins and his mouth +exploded in a red stream of blood. + + + +``What is this book? Why are you bleeding red?'' Trent asked. ``Wait a +minute, red is the color of satan{\ldots}'' His brain had started +figuring out the vicious plot that had fallen onto him. Timmy no +longer looked painfilled and merely stepped back, revealing a +circle that Trent was standing in. Timmy then chanted the +hieroglyphics carefully. It was suddenly a dark and stormy night. +Thunder ripped through the sky like an explosion. The ground +rumbled and out came a putrid hand. The hand grabbed Trent's leg. +The hand them moved up further to his thigh and then revealed it +was connected to a putrid head. The head came from the dirt, the +very embodiment of the word ``horrid.'' Its eyes were sharp and +glaring, its pores were wide open, its earlobes had bulging lumps, +and it was missing an eye. + + + +It had finally stood up from its grave. On its chest was a shiny +badge with the name ``Bavarius'' featured on it. It looked up at +Trent and Trent screamed. Trent stood there, paralized and +screaming. Timmy kept shouting orders from the ancient book. The +water then forced the book to slip from his hand. He bent down to +pick it up then picked it up and held it back up. He took one sniff +of the cover and suddenly knew what the smell was from before. He +dropped the book in horror. + + + +``OH MY GOD!'' Timmy screamed. ``The smell{\ldots} it smells of vomit.'' +With this sudden revelation, he knew what was next. The Bavarius +thing turned around as he knew it would. It stepped up to Timmy, +its hands raised. As Timmy's dismembered head was flying +through the air, his last thought was that revenge is morally wrong +and often hurts the revenger more than the revengee, and it's best +to take the high road in all conflicts. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{January} + + +{\bf The Journey} + + + +The name's Luke Bavarious, private detective. I've seen +some gruesome things in my time. Enough to make a man vomit blood. +That's why I carry a loaded Beretta. Ready to deal expedient +death to a sucker that needs it, or any misshapen foe. But one +morning in 1991, I stumbled into a tragedy that wouldn't be +brought to such an easy conclusion. + + + +It was a seemingly ordinary day. I turned on the TV as I ate my +breakfast. I usually checked the news for the violent crime du +jour, but I wasn't in the mood. I left the television dial to +linger on a children's program, an animated story called +``The Journey''. + + + +A young man decided to go on an expedition to a foreign land. He +selected a group of friends and relatives to join him. The young +visionary's face shone with pride as the preparations began. +Loved ones provided plenty of supplies and all the financial things +for the trip. A celebration was held when the group was ready to +set out. + + + +But some time into the journey, misery befell the adventuring +party. Everyone developed a horrid sickness, the likes of which +none had ever seen. Their eyes sunk into their heads as their +frames grew gaunt and skeletal. Still, they pushed on. It was too +far to turn back. + + + +As they trudged onward, their skin thinned and the color diminished +to putrid green. Pustules developed, swelled, and exploded like +liquid landmines, coating them in moist blankets of rust colored +blood. In the end, every one of them drank of the bitter mercy of +death, as they were reduced to nothing but fetid corpses. + + + +When the story came to its revolting conclusion, I vomited a +fountain of spew, transforming my breakfast cereal into a +despicable acidic cocktail. I couldn't explain the severity +of my reaction. But what were they airing on TV? This looked like a +chapter from the work of a deviant mind --- a day in the life +of Luke Bavarious, perhaps --- not a children's +show. + + + +I grabbed a Coors to soothe my throbbing nerves before work. I was +already late. As I drove, I started to question whether the events +of the morning had really happened. Maybe it had been a +dream. + + + +When I drove past City Hall, I was surprised to see a large +gathering. Something told me I needed to investigate this instead +of continuing to my office. I pushed my way through the crowd to +enter the doors. All around, the atmosphere was one of revelry. A +young man was giving a speech. Banners waved, and well-wishers +cheered. + + + +It was the same man from the story I had just seen! My mouth +dropped open like a gaping black hole as I pondered his cruel fate. +Immediately my veins pulsed and pounded, popping instinctually out +of my neck! + + + +I noticed one young lady whose silence was telling. Far removed +from the merriment, she seemed as out of place as I. Tears trickled +from her bloodshot eyes. I had to I ask. ``Who is that young +man?'' + + + +``He's my brother,'' she said. + + + +``He's going to die and take others with him!'' I +exclaimed. ``His plan is foolishness! We must stop +him!'' + + + +She did not respond. Her expression was of resignation. + + + +``I must act if no one else will,'' I thought. +``Better one bloody mess than many.'' I drew my Beretta +and aimed it at the young man to make the fatal shot. At the sight +of my weapon, the sister heaved violently. Vomitus sprayed all over +my pants and on my Beretta. I hesitated. + + + +``Don't,'' the girl sobbed. ``I already tried +to convince them not to go, but no one will listen. If you kill my +brother, they'll probably go anyway. We just have to let it +happen.'' + + + +I felt the questions frozen in my mind like impending doom. +``How do you know this? How do you know they will +die?'' + + + +Tears cascading down her pale cheeks, she looked me in the eye. I +knew the true meaning of hopelessness when she +replied{\ldots} + + + +``I saw it on TV.'' + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{katiekawaii} + + +I dedicate this short story to the literary genius Ben Biddick. No +one could ever do you justice. But I think I gave it a good +shot. + + + +{\bf Shiny Toy Gun} + + + +I am a man. Some may call me a beast. I am also a detective. +Detective Luke Bavarious. I wasn't always a man. I used to be +a young boy. Carefree. But not for long. + + + +It was said that when my mother gave birth I came out screaming. I +was just like that. Maybe it was a predictor of things to come. +Maybe. I got my first toy gun when I was nine. It was shiny +plastic, a Beretta. Fit in my hand like a glove. Like a glove fits +over a hand, that's how it fit in my hand. My mom +didn't want me to have it. It was my dad's idea. My +drunken father. He always came home late at night reeking of horrid +vomit. He wanted me to be tough. Tough like him. + + + +I was always being bullied. A sixth grader, Max Attica. I told the +principal, but she didn't care. Sometimes it seemed like no +one did. My dad told me not to be so weak. He yelled at me one +night, ``Don't be so weak!'' he yelled. As he said +it I could smell the horrid stench of vomit and the stiff gin and +tonics he always drank. Hold the tonic. It made me want to puke. I +could see his neck exploding as his veins strained against the skin +with every syllable. ``You gonna let that Max Attica push you +`round, boy?'' + + + +``N-n-o S-s-ir,'' I stammered as I sobbed and cried and +held down my vomit. My father's vomit, which had been given +to me with the breathing of each horrid vomit- and gin-soaked +breath. + + + +No, sir. Now I had my Beretta. It was just a toy, but I could +pretend. I had a good imagination. I took it to school with me in +my dark black backpack. Even then I favored the dark shade of the +night that would later be my beat in the city. It was 1953. Back +then nobody cared if a boy played with a toy gun at school back +then. Things are different now. I'm why things are +different. + + + +It was a dark and cloudy day, the sun forced into shadow by the +ominous clouds overhead. Max's classroom was across from +mine, and as the bell rang and we filed inside he looked at me and +made the gesture children make to make a threat. A finger drawn +slowly across the neck. I imagined the blood gushing out of my neck +in a giant waterfall. He meant business. + + + +I told the teacher, but like all grown-ups she didn't listen. +Nobody listened. This was my fight and mine alone. So I made it +mine. We came out of the classrooms for lunch. Our eyes met across +the hall. Eyes are the windows to the soul. Mine were black. He +came towards me with his hand twisted into a grotesque fist. I +pulled out my toy Beretta and aimed for his face, which was twisted +with hatred. He laughed. I pulled the trigger. There was a loud +sound, and Max's shirt turned rust. A real bullet. +That's impossible. + + + +Suddenly, I was screaming. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{rinski} + + +{\bf The Monsters in the Night} + + + +Some would say I have seen it all. They luckily don't know +the half of it. I have both seen it all and then I have +additionally seen some more things. Unspeakably horrible things. +Things that would shatter your mind like a car wreck. For me, +it's just part of the job. You see, I am a monster hunter. +The name's Luke Bavarius. And I love my job. Because I hate +monsters. + + + +I was at my office desk. I poured a cup of dark coffee. I +accidentally burned the coffee, making my office smelled like a +raging inferno. I drank the acrid blackness anyway. It tasted like +a punch in the throat. But it's pungency and aroma would keep +me awake. Awake through a night as black as coffee itself. I needed +it: I felt tired and dizzy for some reason. I put my feet up on the +desk. I took another sip of bitter liquid. Then the phone +rang. + + + +My son's voice echoed through the cold, lifeless plastic of +the phone's receiver. I have three sons. They are volunteer +fire fighters. Usually they can't make calls while +volunteering. The call was therefore perplexing. + + + +``Dad? Dad, you are in terrible danger!'' + +``Terrible danger? Me?'' I scoffed at his +insinuation. + +``Son, don't you understand? I have seen it all. What +dangerous fate could possibly surprise me?'' + + + +Before anything else could even happen, a smash caught my +awareness. A window vomited glass fragments from its mahogany +frame. A terrible entity was intruding through a now-broken window! +Glass hit the ground like shells from my Baretta. Speaking of +which, I withdrew my steel companion from its sheath. Time to +investigate. + + + +The commotion was caused by a horrid foe indeed. It was a seething +mass of tentacles attached to a pair of sickening butterfly wings. +Parts of it glowed like certain eels can glow. + + + +``Son? I'm gonna have to put you on hold!'' I +predicted, stabbing the ``hold'' button with my left +index finger. I unholstered out my Baretta and flicked off the +safety because there was nothing safe about the situation. + + + +Before the fight had begun, it was over. A mere twenty bullets +reduced the monster to a twitching heap of calamari. The +bullet-riddled monster could have made swiss cheese jealous. An +acrid stench filled the office. The stinks of vomit and blood and +putrid smoke and diherria mingled in an unholy potpurri. Its +pungency induced nausea. My eyes watered protective tears. The +atmosphere of my office was now more stench than oxygen, making +respiration difficult. + + + +I coughed. I holstered my Baretta in its sheath. I picked up the +phone. + +``Dad, you have got to get out of your office because you are +in terrible danger!'' + + + +SMASH! Another creature erupted into my office. The window +atomized. Glass fragments splashed the floor like razor sharp +raindrops. + + + +``I appreciate your concern, son. But your ol' D-A-D can +handle a few monsters. I am a monster hunter by trade. And the hunt +is on.'' I hung up the phone with confidence. + + + +This monster was no ordinary panther. It was covered in poison +quills that rustled like amber waves of death. Its face was that of +the common fly. Its arms were like a nefarious---suddenly, the +beast attacked, interrupting my mental registration of its +descriptive traits. No matter. My index finger instinctively +triggered the Beretta's firing mechanism. A steel barrage +sonic boomed towards the fiend. Soon it was just another lifeless +object cluttering up my office floor. Blood gushed from its wounds +like a Nile River of rusty fluid, courtesy of Luke Bavarius. + + + +The stench staggered. I coughed, gritting back vomit. + + + +Suddenly, a cacophony of smashes erupted. My remaining windows +exploded in a crystalline supernova. The air was thick with a +dangerous confetti of glass shards and monsters. Eight more +monsters had broken in, causing this turmoil. + + + +``My property value has gone `out the +window.''' I said with gallows humor. + + + +The odor elevated to a living nightmare about burning corpses. It +consumed my senses. I vomited. Twice. Some came out my nose. My +eyes burned. Tears stained my face with anguish and despair. I +faced my impeding annihilation with eternal sadness and morbid +frustration. + + + +``N-N-NOOOO-O!'' I puked out sobs and some of the coffee +from before. I shot blindly, managing to kill one last monster. The +remainder closed on me like a curtain of death. Knowing I was done +for, I vomited one last time. Then passed out. + + + +I awoke later with a start in a hospital. I coughed. The cough +tasted like ash and my mouth felt like a chimney. I called to a +nurse, ``Nurse what is going on?'' + + + +``I don't know how to tell you this, Luke{\ldots} but +there was a fire in your office. You inhaled the smoke and +hallucinated. Your son called to warn you, but by that point you +were virtually insane from fumes. Your other two sons were the +first ones one the scene. You{\ldots}'' + + + +Suddenly, she was sobbing. I sobbed too. For I had known all +along. + + + +``Y-you murd-urdered th-them with-with your Barett-etta. Then +your third son showed up with more firefighters and you killed him +too.'' + + + +I thought I had seen it all. But none of the horrid monstrosities I +had seen could have prepared me. Not for this. Not for a +realization that hit me like the weight of a neutron star full of +freight trains that were carrying my murdered sons. I was the only +monster in this tale. + + + +When I heard the news, my mind shattered like a car wreck. And I +screamed and screamed and screamed{\ldots} + + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{BigSkillet} + + +Too obscure? + + + +{\bf The Screw That Turned} + + + +``{\ldots}and his little heart, dispossessed, had stopped,'' said a man in +a powdered wig that was reading a story to a group of people. +Everyone else in the group was scared except for one, and he stood +up. + + + +``That story sucked and the ghosts were gay,'' said the standing man, +who took a badge from his coat and showed it to the storyteller. It +read 'Luke Bavarious, P.I. PhD.' + + + +``I should arrest you for being so boring,'' he said, drawing his gun +and aiming it at the storyteller. + + + +``Oh bother, please don't, old chap,'' said the storyteller, who was +British. ``It isn't my fault, it's a true story and it really +happened that way. And it all happened in this very same house on +this day ten years ago!'' + + + +When he said that everybody else got scared because it meant they +were in a haunted house, but not Luke Bavarious. He just grinned +and put a cigarette in his mouth. + + + +``You all stay here, I can handle this. I can arrest those ghosts, +and I'll show them the letter of the law the hard way.'' + + + +``Oh Luke, you're so brave,'' said one of the ladies who was sitting +in the room. + + + +Luke Bavarious fired his gun into the air and then lit his +cigarette on the still-hot barrel. ``It's all in a day's work, +ma'am,'' he said, ``and I like my work.'' With that, he left the +room. + + + +Luke Bavarious walked down the hallway with his gun drawn. The hall +was dark with shadows, but his glowing cigarette gave him all the +light he needed. Suddenly, outside of a window, he saw a shape. +Luke recognized it as a man, but the hallway was on the third +floor. There was nothing outside for him to stand on except the +darkness. It was one of the ghosts that the storyteller had warned +him about. + + + +``Stop where you are!'' said Luke Bavarious, aiming his gun at the +window. The ghost stayed outside the window, an evil glimmer in his +ghostly British eyes. + + + +``Put your hands up. You're under arrest for haunting this house and +I think you molested a kid in that story,'' Luke continued, but the +ghost ignored his order. Luke fired at the ghost, two bullets +shattering the window with a thunderous crash. When the smoke +cleared, the ghost had vanished. + + + +Suddenly, he turned, and at the end of the hallway was another +ghost. It was smaller but still British, and Luke recognized it as +the ghost of the boy that had died. + + + +``I've defeated the ghost that killed you, there's nothing to be +afraid of now,'' Luke said, approaching the boy. + + + +``Please don't feel that I've been bad,'' said the boy. Luke stopped +and aimed his gun at the boy because his sixth sense told him it +was a trick. ``I had no intent to harm when I stole that +letter.'' + + + +``You're under arrest for stealing,'' Luke said. Two shells hit the +floor as he fired into the boy's ghost. When he went to inspect the +boy ghost's body he found a letter in his hand. It said: ``To my +dearest Luke. Please forgive me my son. Sincerely, the +ghost.'' + + + +Luke Bavarious dropped the letter and screamed as he felt his heart +stop from the true horror that was his fate all along. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{HastyDeparture} + + +{\bf A Red Sky at Night} + + + +The sun slowly sinks in the sky, an orange halo telling of the the +morrow's forecast. The forecast is always the same. + + + +The forecast never changes, not for me, at least. Every day, I rise +with the sun, and step out the door of my small ranch-style home as +the sun clears the trees of my small suburban neighborhood. Every +day, I grab a large, black coffee and the morning paper from the +gas station on the corner. Every day, I park my black and white in +the side lot of Lakeview Central High School. Every day, I sit down +at my desk as Connie waltzes in the door, says, ``morning, Officer +Bavarious'', and moseys on over to the copy machine. + + + +My name is Luke Bavarious, and I am a School Resource Officer. I'm +a cop in a high school. I wear a badge, I carry a Beretta, and I +don't take shit from anyone, especially not people half my +size. + + + +They said that the regular doughnut-munchers weren't close enough +to the people, not tied-in with the community, and unfamiliar with +the hooligans in our fair town. They said that we needed someone to +fill that role, to keep tabs on the kids, to keep our children in +school and out of trouble. That's where I come in. I deal with the +kids who have a streak, and who, without help, are likely to become +the next generation of scum that plagues our streets. I keep the +peace; I enforce the law. + + + +I know all the bad seeds, the troubled families, the broken homes. +I get to know them, I lend them a hand, and I set them straight. I +know them all like family. So when a young voice says ``hey, Officer +B'' as I'm looking out the window at the setting sun, it's no +surprise that I know who it is before I turn to face the teenage +boy in a hoodie and baggy jeans. + + + +``Hello, Marcus. How was your day today? You go to class?'' + +``Of course, Officer B. You know me.'' + +``I know I know you. That's why I'm asking. You go to every +one?'' + +``Yes, Officer.'' + + + +Marcus was a good kid with a bad streak. I've known him since he +moved here his freshman year of high school. He moved out of a +trailer park with his mom and younger sister to avoid their +drunken, estranged husband. A rough upbringing; not uncommon. He's +got a record like many of the others I've helped, ranging from +little things like skipped classes and tardiness to a few more +serious infractions involving alchohol and marijuana. The same old, +tired shit. But he's been getting better. + + + +``That's good, kiddo. That's good. You heading home? You know +nobody's supposed to be in the school this late. You gotta study +for those tests next week.'' + +``Well, you see{\ldots} I was wondering if you could, uh{\ldots} come look at +something.'' + +``What is it? You getting into trouble again?'' + +``I don't know, Officer B. That's what I want to you come +see.'' + + + +I look back out at the flaming ball in the sky, and remember that +even though my day is coming to a close, my job never ends. + + + +``OK, Marcus. Show me.'' He nods solemnly. We walk out the door of my +office. + + + +In silence, he leads me down the hall to the right, and up the +stairs to the second floor. We make a left, and start down the next +hallway. Marcus jogs ahead, and stops when he gets to the boys' +bathroom halfway down on the left. ``In here,'' he mumbles, almost +inaudibly. He goes in. + + + +I step up to the door, held open from the inside by a beat-up +garbage can. It's almost pitch black inside; the lights are +out. + + + +``Marcus?'' No answer. ``Marcus? You in here?'' + + + +A chill creeps up my spine, an unwelcome feeling that's all too +familiar for someone in my line of work. + + + +I step into the shadows, and undo the strap on my holster. I hope +I'm just being paranoid, just feeling a little scared, but I know +it's not true. The door suddenly swings shut with a slam, and the +world as I know it is plunged into darkness. In an instant, I'm +gripping the Beretta tight in my sweaty hands; exactly the last +thing I want to have to do. + + + +``What's going on, Marcus?'' I call out. The void answers, ``What's +going on, Marcus?'' It sounds just like my voice; an echo. A soft +sound appends the response; a shoe scraping the floor in the dark. +My eyes slowly adjust to the dark, and I notice a small window on +the far wall, just below the ceiling. The faint light coming +through reflects off something to my right - mirrors above the +dirty sinks. Another noise; my eyes dart back to the left. + + + +I should have seen it coming, but it's too late; I feel the breath +in my lungs explode. I'm slammed into the nearest mirror. The glass +cracks, and so does my skull. I push away from the wall, repulsing +the weight of two, maybe three kids. I should have known. The +weight shifts, and my body hits the opposite wall and the urinals. +The nasty water splashes across my hands and stomach. Disgusting. I +turn away from the wall, to face the kids. Disgusting. The weight +hits my stomach, shots ring out in the darkness, and my breath +bursts forth like doves from a magician's hat. I'm no +magician. + + + +I drop to one knee, my head turns toward the mirrors above the +brown stained sinks, and in an instant, I see all those young faces +I've helped staring back at me, their faces blank, emotionless. I +collapse on the floor. + + + +As I lay on the cold, damp tile, I can see out the window. The sun +slowly dips below the horizon, painting luscious red streaks across +the sky. Red streaks the color of blood. Red streaks like the ones +painted across the walls of the boys' bathroom on the second +floor. + + + + + +e: As I wrote it, the story drifted away from the theme, but that's +what happens. I'm sticking to it. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{lucifer chikken} + + +{\bf The Warehouse} + + + +Dripping water echoed through the empty warehouse. I stepped into a +slant of light thrown by security spotlights outside. The sliver of +light was intermittently chopped by an exhaust fan set into the +wall. I checked my old automatic watch, lost in meditation as the +second hand whirred smoothly around the dial. It was late. I wound +up at the old warehouse in the harbor on a hunch, there was a lot +of money riding on the investigation, and Luke Bavarius, P.I. +listened to hunches when it meant keeping the freezer flush with +starchy Hungry Man dinners. + + + +In the distance, a low grunt crept through the darkness accompanied +by the clang of metal. The sound rattled me down to the very +marrow. Instinctively, my hand flew to my Beretta, two fingers +rubbing the sleek metal for security. I'd seen a lot of horrors in +the Big Apple, some things I'd never shake. The Beretta was my +partner through each of them. + + + +Gritty footsteps crossed the dirty cement floor some distance in +front of me. Squinting, I caught a flash of pale skin, a glint of +metal. I pulled my gun from its holster, admiring its length as it +was unsheathed. Stalking forward, back tight against shipping +containers, I disengaged the safety and cocked the gun. Footsteps +scurried further into the depths of the warehouse. + + + +I spoke to the darkness. ``Show yourself, +asshole.'' + + + +Legs flashed across a slit of light. + + + +``No one should be here now,'' I muttered. My heart fired +adrenaline through my body. ``Shoot first, ask questions +later, Bavarius.'' + + + +I raised my weapon, aiming it at the sound. ``Stop right +there!'' I shouted, firing two shots into the darkness. An +anguished cry echoed off the tin ceiling, followed closely by a +thick thud of a body hitting the floor. + + + +I honed in on the sound and stalked toward it. In the shadows, +another hulking figure loomed. ``What the fuck is +that?'' + + + +It emitted a low sound and moved. Its form seemed unearthly. My +colon clenched in response to the adrenaline rush. Must've drank +too much muddy coffee before this stakeout. + + + +Again, my Beretta found itself ready to fire as I aimed at the +hulking figure. The sounds it was making, the low groans, were +unearthly. Whatever it was, it had to be done away with. My finger +twitched on the trigger. + + + +``Don't do it, Mister.'' The weak voice came from my +right. My eyes darted between the veiled voice and the shadows in +front of me. + + + +``What the hell are you?'' I called. + + + +The voice didn't answer immediately. It just whimpered. + + + +``What are you?!'' I demanded again, pouring all of the +testosterone pooled my balls into my voice. + + + +``I'm{\ldots} hurt. Don't shoot it.'' + + + +``Shoot what?'' There was a pause. ``Shoot +what!'' + + + +``Please{\ldots} I'm just a kid{\ldots}'' + + + +Oh, hell. A kid. I bit the inside of my cheek to stave off the +encroaching vomit. I could envision the bile on its rise from my +ulcerated stomach. My hand shook. The figure groaned low again and +my finger impulsively squeezed away at the trigger. Violence +exploded once more, echoing through the tin-paneled warehouse. The +figure received my bullet, still unsure of its identity, I watched +its shadowed form waver in the shadows. + + + +``No!'' The kid cried, his pubescent voice cracking with +pain and disgust. He had dragged his body toward me. My gun hand +fell limply to my side; I looked down at the kid with pity and +shame. A gleaming snail trail of blood darkened the cement floor +behind him. + + + +``Why are you in here?'' + + + +The kids eyes were pale with death. You could almost hear the blood +draining from him in sick little spurts. + + + +``You shot the giraffe,'' he wailed, low. + + + +My attention snapped from the kid to the darkness in front of me. I +squinted, deciphering the dark figure wavering before me. Its long +neck gradually came into focus. I stepped closer to the beast. It +was vomiting blood from its neck, muscular spasms shooting through +the six foot long tube of meat; its long blue tongue drooped to the +side flaccidly. Long eyelashes fluttered over its cow-like brown +eyes. + + + +Woozy, the giraffe suddenly dropped to its knobby knees, its neck +lolled dramatically to the side. The neck snapped over a row of +container drums, folding thickly like a bag of sand. The sound +reverberated through the hollow spaces in my bones. It wasn't +likely to be forgotten, to abandon those spaces, any time soon. I +clutched desperately at my stomach, trying not to vomit my liver +and onion dinner all over the floor. + + + +I glanced at the kid. Exhalations escaped him in a long rattling +breaths. He'd be a goner without help. + + + +``Ah shit,'' my chest heaved. ``Should've listened +to the kid, Bavarius.'' + + + +Sirens screamed toward the warehouse. From the wide doorway, the +rain-slicked streets of the Empire City opened their arms to me. I +pulled a Pall Mall from the emergency pack stashed in my pocket and +lit it up, muttering to myself, the cigarette bouncing between my +lips. ``New York. I ream her and ruin her, but the whore keeps +taking me back.'' + + + +Red lights whirled closer. Suddenly, I was sobbing. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{ding dang doo} + + +I awoke from my slumber. The breeze of wind gently blowing wind +across my face. Sitting in the darkness, I thought of only one +thing: Luke Bavarious. The name. Repeating throughout my head, +puking it's mantra into my mind. Who was this man? I did not know, +but I intended to find out. I lit a Pall Mall cigarette and +proceeded to smoke it. Meanwhile, I dressed myself. + + + +Into the dark and dimly lit night I wandered, smoking a Pall Mall +cigarette with my iips. I inhaled, and let my hate seethe. I +exhaled and let my hatred for love grow. Luke Bavarious. The name +echoed in my face. This name. A name like no other. I reached into +my pants and gripped my Baretta, and let a long sigh of relief. +Sometimes I forgot to put my Baretta in my pants. Tonight, I +remembered to do it. Strolling down the street in the dimly lit +night of darkness, I began to wander down the sidewalk. Luke +Bavarious. Why? Was this part of my grim imagination? Was he the +reason teachers and parents were afraid of me? This I had to find +out. + + + +Finishing my Pall Mall cigarette, I crushed the butt of it against +a newborn baby, and slowly walked down a dimly lit dark alley. I +saw a shadowy figure of a man, or maybe it could've even been a +leopard. He let out a gasp of shock and started to ran into the +opposite direction. I quickly vomited and soon began chasing him. +Chase him I did, and I ran as fast as a machine with cyborg legs. +The chase was long and hard, and arduous. He ducked through +alleyways and jumped rooftops, but I had the scent of blood and +murder and puke in my nostrils, I was on his tail every step of the +way. + + + +Until he stopped. + + + + + + + +I found myself at my lousy apartment. Empty cans of beer littered +my floor. Numerous tissues surrounding my computer. The butts of +endless Pall Mall cigarettes emptied into countless newborn babies. +And he was standing in the corner. I cocked my head like a curious +dog, and asked, ``Who are you? And why are we here?'' + + + +Suddenly, he turned around, Pall Mall cigarette in his mouth. Luke +Bavarious. He chuckled and shot at me. And shot again. Then he shot +me again. With a Baretta. Then he shot me with his Baretta. + + + +And as my neck puked blood from my neck and vomit spewed from every +faucet in my apartment, I heard the words, ``Did you hear Micheal +Jackson died?'' + + + +With my final breath, I sobbed, ``{\ldots}Don't stop{\ldots}till{\ldots}you get +enough.'' + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Dominic Bones} + + +It'll happen tonight. Happens every night. Never stops. + + + +{\bf AGAIN} + + + +I sat on the edge of my bed, drinking a glass of water I had just +gotten from the kitchen. My dog Bud was laying at the foot of the +bed. I stared into the glass, watching my own reflection, and +watching the reflection of the creature behind me. + + + +With a long face and empty eyes, and a mouth that could only be +described as slender. It stared over my shoulder, it's hands at its +sides. Sometimes I would think it was speaking to me, only to find +that it was Bud whimpering. + + + +It always stared, yet when i turned I could not see it. when I +closed my eyes it would be there, clear as day, yet when I opened +them the creature would be gone. I could not explain it. The Dogs +howls were going through the night sometimes. + + + +Why I could not say. Happened since I moved into this house. My +girlfriend and child had left me because I would just lie awake at +night. She said I had no emotion anymore. Said i should see a +therapist. my kid said he loved me but said that he couldnt have a +father that never helped him. he encouraged me to hug him and +promise him I'd always be there and to leave the house with mommy. +But he didn't really like that idea, so I didn't. Dog barked. Hear +the name Luke. + + + +my dresser was an elegant wood paneling, and my floor had a lush +red carpet. Sometimes he would seep onto it and make it seem black. +i didn't know why, he just told me it would show me the way if i +followed him. I always just sat on the bed though. The dog was +scratching the bedpost now. heard the name Luke ringing in the back +of my head. + + + +my glass of water was almost out. i looked out my window and saw +him there, and he asked for me. i would just shake my head, as i +had stopped spaeking. i had recieved a letter the other day that +said i had to mkae my payments, but he told me it wouldnt be an +issue. The dog attempted to lay on my lap. Heard ``Luke'', nothing +but Luke and white noise. + + + +i told myself to go to sleep, but something was bothering me as if +something was buried deep in my head. i kenw that i couldnt just +take aspirin to get rid of it. i felt something at my foot but when +i looekd down it wasnt there. my bathroom mirror could be seen in +the crnoer of my eye, and he could be seen in the mirror. his +fingers pointed at the bed, thuogh i didnt turn t see what he was +pointing at. The dog jumped on the ground and stared at me. + + + +he came up to me and mvoed my hand. he put it on the dogs back and +squeezed. i ddint know what was going on exactly but he asuserd me +it wuold all be arlihgt. my hand ddint stop suqeezing for an hour. +the dog didnt make any noise except the word ``Luke''. + + + +soon i had began laying down and fell asleep. i suddenly felt +better. he had told me that i would soon be able to go to sleep. i +remembered this feeling happening the day before my girlfriend left +me. i fgiured that he just knew how to clam me down. i layed down +and put my haed to rest. + + + +wehn the men came in the morning, i awkoe and walked down to the +mess hlal with them. tehy dont think hes real. the dcotor said i +was imagninig thnigs. she ddint know me thuogh. only he understood. +soon i flet a relaxation in her office like lsat night,before i saw +the lghit coming from the wnidow. he told me taht i cuold be in the +lghit. but i ddint want to. i olny wanted to be wehre he guided me +to. He spoke but I did not hear. + + + +atfer i stppoed suqeezing i haerd the men come in and guided me +away. but it was oaky, because as long as i clsoed my eyes, i saw +his fcae. what did he say his name was? {\em Luke Bavarius}. as i +was dragged, soon i saw my snos face, and it was the same. Luke +just tlod me it wuold all be alright. so i colsed my eyes, and +dreamt of my childs face. + + + + All +spelling errors on purpose. Not drunk, I swear. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{ding dang doo} + + + +Dominic Bones posted: +{\ldots}words? + + + + +Yeah, let's go ahead and not get drunk and write stories, k? + + + + + diff --git a/part4.tex b/part4.tex new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be2125a --- /dev/null +++ b/part4.tex @@ -0,0 +1,3015 @@ +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Quovak} + + +As with most entries, all grammar errors are intentional. Also, +edited to better fit the rules. + + + +{\bf A Cursed Memory} + +My name is Luke Bavarious. I am a policeman. Recently my wife Vixie +Bavarious committed suicide. I've been sent in to deal with +Jack Rogue. He was supposed to be at the courthouse. I walked up to +the 162nd street mansion where he lived in New York. I slowly +walked up the dark creaking stairs slowly. I drew my trusty +Beretta. I knocked at the man's door. ``Open up!'' +I said. + +``What do you want?'' He said. + +I screamed. ``It doesn't matter. If you don't open +this door, I'll shoot the the lock off with my +Beretta!'' + +``Fine. Hold on a second.'' + +``Too late!'' I shot the lock off with my Beretta. The +sharp kick of the gun was like a wave up my arm. It felt good. I +opened the door and went inside. In the entryway I saw a thirteen +year old boy standing in the middle of the room. + +``Why weren't you at court?'' I said. + +``You don't want to find out what I know.'' He +whispered. + +``I think I do.'' I said, aiming my Beretta. + +``My parents are getting a divorce. I don't want to have +to choose who has custody.'' + +The memory of my girlfriend killing herself rushed back to +me. + +``Did you see your dad kill your mom? Or did you only hear the +shot?'' I called. + +The kid screamed a bloodcurdling scream and ran upstairs. I raised +my Beretta and fired the first shot. He pulled out a gun and shot +me in my eye. The pain stung as the blood pooled onto the floor. I +couldn't help but vomit. The fluids mixed in the pool. He +shot again. + +``Why are you doing this?'' I screamed. The blood kept +running down my face. The bullets tore it open. I fired again. The +bullets from my Beretta took the kid's balance. He screamed. +I heard the kid scream as he fell off the balcony into his rose +bushes. The thorns cut through his skin. His blood oozed out of +their holes. I walked over. ``You were subpoenaed. That means +you should have been in court.'' I said. My wounds were still +terribly dripping rusted blood from the wounds. + +The kid was screaming and vomit left his torn lips. As he died he +called out. ``Vixie Bavarious didn't kill herself. Your +wife was killed{\ldots} by you.'' He knelt to the floor and +screamed again as he died. + +I looked back at a mirror. Past the blood. And the scars, And the +vomit. And I remembered. The sound of the bullet I fired into my +girlfriend's chest. I remembered her blood falling onto the +carpet. Her spine snapping from the force of my Beretta. Her cries +of pain. Her corpse hitting the ground. + +I walked past the kid's cut up body. His blood had dried up. +The vomit had caked on his torn vomit-stained pants. A chill rose +up my back. I started sobbing. I would turn in my badge the next +day and become a private detective. Anything to stop my +grief. + + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Anal Surgery} + + +{\bf SATANIC RED: The Third to Last Case of Det. Luke +Bavarious} + + + + + +I polished my Baretta with a rust-colored rag. I own both the gun +and the rag because I am a private detective. People come to me to +solve problems. Problems given to them by others with every sort of +type. I am a problem solver for them, the people to whom problems +were given. Today (9am on a Monday) was no different than last +Monday, until she walked in. + + + +Anastasia Rexenstein. She poured into my office like a sexual +cocktail, her dress the color of rusty bulging neck-muscles. Her +eyes peered into your soul like a peering soul-seeing sage. Her +smile twisted like a grapevine as she threw a stack of cash in +front of me. ``I want you to find my daughter, +Bella-Monica'' she intoned. My eyes grew wider than +dictionaries as I looked at the financial stuff in front of +me. + + + +``Okay'' I murmured. + + + +Bella-Monica Rexenstein was last seen in the company of noted town +drunk, Firth Rockwell, at his sea-side cabin near the sea. Speeding +towards the location at 56 miles an hour, I began to hear the +giggle of destiny around me. Night spread across the sky like a +grape-juice stain, the color of darkness, and other dark things. +Rockwell was probably up to no good, so I triple-checked my +Baretta, which was given to me when I started my detective +business. It was loaded. So was I. With alcohol. The sea-side cabin +approached like a sick cat. ``Let's do this'' I said to +no one in particular. + + + +I parked my vehicle and surreptitiously slunk towards the windows. +A light was on, red, the color the Devil lists as his favorite. My +eyes narrowed --- I hate the Devil. There was no sign of +Bella-Monica from the first window, so I approached the second +window as stealthified as I had the first. I still didn't see her, +so I proceeded to the west side of cabin and looked in that window. +I didn't see her there either, so I went to the south side to look +in that window. Nothing, just like what I thought came after death, +because I am an atheist detective, because of my experiences, which +are horrid. But as I came to the east side, I saw movement. + + + +Inside, Firth Rockwell was wearing apparel, apparel which fluttered +wavily in the breeze of a fan. He was sharpening a knife, and +humming the old Irish folk-tune ``I Murder Down a Path''. +Inadvertently, I hummed along, as it brought back memories of my +drunken father, who would hum it after four Bud Lights. I felt +steam rising in me, which I wanted to blow off, in the form of +shooting Rockwell. But before I could Rockwell left the room. + + + +Sneaking in through the backdoor, I heard footsteps stepping down +the steps to the basement. Furtively, I snuck down the same steps, +hoping to see something. But when I arrived in the underground +chamber, what I saw was a sight which I didn't want to see. + + + +Bella-Monica was tied to a chair, with Firth Rockwell placing a +knife to her throat. I yelled at him ``Stop right there! +Villain!''. But he just smiled at me. And then he put on a +wig, and I realized the horrid truth. I vomited a rusty stream from +my lips, which included burning bile erupting from my nose. For +with the wig on, Firth Rockwell was Anastasia Rexenstein. + + + +But then, she pulled the a wig off of Bella-Monica, and I vomited +again. For Bella-Monica was actually me! Bella-Monica screamed +harshly ``LISTEN TO ME-'' but I fired my gun at both of them, +exploding their faces in a shower of blood, brain matter, skull +bits, and gristle. I fled upstairs and vomited in the sink. For I +realized, I had just killed my twin brother. I was the last +Bavarious now. All I could do was sob. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Hantu} + + +{\bf I, Lucius Baiuvarius} + + + +It is mid winter in the year 177 of the Christian god. As I write +this, I, Lucius, son of Baiuvarius of Aalen am recovering from my +injuries. My grandfather and his father before him fought against +the Romans and their foreign ways. Both of them are long dead, +slain by Roman sword. My father was no warrior. He is a herder and +did his best to bring me up in the Roman ways so that I might +ingrain myself with the Romans and profit by it. Yet the warrior +blood runs deep. On my 17th birthday, I said goodbye to my family +and travelled to the new Roman fort of Castra Regina. There I +joined a ragtag unit of foederatus, made up of people of many +tribes. + + + +My company consisted of 20 men, only a few I made friends with. We +were employed as light infantry or as Uhlan, my Swabian commander +calls it, arrow fodder for the Legio Tertia Italica against the +rebellious Marcomanni tribes. The pay was not much, but my youthful +adventurism was satiated. In my fifth year of service, I have been +in many battles. Many we won, others we lost. I have seen acts of +extreme bravery, worthy of the old gods. I have also seen villages +burned to the ground, the women raped, the men beheaded, the +children enslaved. Yet what I saw during my last encounter was +beyond anything a mortal should see. + + + +It was two months ago. The first flakes of snow had fallen. The +campaigning season was over and I looked forward to a few months of +rest. I was sitting by the campfire with several others when a +legionnaire guard came to our encampment and talked to Uhlan. They +were out of earshot but I saw him gave Uhlan a piece of scroll and +left. Uhlan shook his head and walked towards us. ``By Belenus +and Camulus!'' he swore, ``A Roman patrol is lost in the +Black Marshes and we are to look for them.'' He spat on the +ground and swore again. ``It's not enough that we fight +and die for them, now we have to baby sit them too! Lucius, Hauff, +and Dumnorix, pack your gear and come with me. We will have to go +on foot as the ground is too rough.'' + + + +I reluctantly moved away from the comfortable fire and found my +longsword, leather armour and metal helmet. For some reason, I also +decided to bring along my long knife that I don't usually +carry on missions. I tied the knife in its scabbard around my torso +and put on my leather armour. This decision will end up saving my +life. Our small band of four sets out of the camp just as the +snowfall was beginning to get heavy. We made slow progress, even on +the Roman roads. After 2 days, we arrived at the edges of the Black +Marshes, tired and cold. Uhlan was unusually taciturn during the +journey. He was not a jocular man by any means but he seems to be +even more troubled than usual. Finally, I decided to ask him what +it is that's troubling him. He fell silent, only the +condensation from his breathing betraying his thoughts. ``Do +you know anything about the Black Marshes lad?'' he finally +spoke. I replied in the negative. ``The locals stayed away +from this place and for a good reason. None who ventured in ever +came out again. Those Roman fools are too arrogant to believe in +folk tales and look what happened to them. Yet here we are, on a +fool's errand. May Belenus protect us all.'' + + + +We camped in a clearing near the Black Marshes for a day while +Dumnorix and I scouted around for tracks. The fresh snow made this +task even more difficult. The afternoon sun was falling when out of +the corner of my eyes, I saw a glint of metal among the bushes, 20 +yards away. I silently signalled to Dumnorix to come near and we +cautiously moved towards it, swords drawn. There is no doubt about +it. It is a Roman scutum, cleaved in half, not cleanly like by an +axe or sword but as if it was ripped into two by some great force. +On the ground, there were drag marks and copious blood and it let +deeper into the Black Marshes. I debated with Dumnorix about what +to do next. The Helvetian wants to follow the tracks into the marsh +before the snow completely covered it while I wanted to report our +discovery to Uhlan. We argued for a while until we decided on a +compromise. We will follow the tracks a little deeper until dusk +falls and then turn back. + + + +The both of us cautiously moved into the marshes. Why I agreed to +this, I never knew. Every ten yards or so, I broke a twig and +pointed it towards the direction that we came. After an hour or +walking, we came to a small cave where the tracks and blood trail +thinned out suddenly. The sun was setting rapidly and an ominous +hush descended on the Black Marshes. I told Dumnorix that this is +as far as I will go and we should turn back before it gets too +dark. He agreed though he wanted to mark the location first. We +looked around in search of a large rock or stick that we can use as +a marker when the wind suddenly picked up. I was digging through +the snow cover when Dumnorix gave a sudden shout. I looked back but +he was no longer there. Snow was now being blown sideways and +quickly, I could see no further than my hands. I shouted for +Dumnorix many times but there was no reply, only the howling of the +wind. I clutched my longsword tightly and readied for battle. +Warily, I crouched towards the small cave to seek shelter from the +storm, my senses on alert for trouble. + + + +The cave entrance was about 7 foot high and just wide enough to let +two man through. The surface was covered in lichen and the dank air +smelled of rotten vegetation or worse things. Inside was pitch +black with pools of stagnant water looking like broken shards of +mirrors. I hesitated but staying out here meant certain death by +freezing. Muttering a prayer to Lovantucarus, I went into the cave, +my trusty longsword drawn at the front. The howling of the wind +took on a haunting aspect in the cave, as if thousands of lost +souls whispering together. The hairs on my neck pricked up while my +heart was beating loudly in my ears. I could no longer see +anything, only vague shadows. A movement! Where? Was it my +imagination? Calm down. Trust my instincts. Another movement, this +time, closer! There is no more doubt. Someone or something is here +in the cave with me. ``Come out and show your self!'' I +yelled into the darkness. ``Come out you coward and fight like +a man!'' + + + +A sudden rush of air smelling of carrion and an inhuman growl went +directly towards my face. I instinctively crouched but something +hit hard on my right shoulder, just missing my head, causing me to +fall and end up face down on the damp cave floor. My sense of +direction is now gone. In the commotion, I lost grip of my +longsword. I grabbed my right shoulder and it was bleeding +profusely. My leather armour torn in pieces. I've had enough. +I tried to scramble up and run but a vaguely man-shaped thing +pounced on my torso pushing me down again with great force while +shredding at my chest. I nearly passed out from the impact but I +called upon strength buried deep inside me, the strength of a +cornered animal and flailed at my attacker with my fists. I must +have landed a lucky hit, as the thing jumped off and howled. +Remembering my hidden long knife, I tore away the shredded remnants +of my leather armour and unsheathed the knife. The thing lunged +again with an ear piercing shriek but this time I was ready. I +waited to the last second before, with a rapid thrust, I stabbed +the thing in its chest. My knife made contact and hot blood spewed +on my face. + + + + + +The full moon was probably out now and dim light reflecting on the +pools of water lit up the scene. For the first time, inches from my +face, I could see my assailant. The horror that I saw could never +be truly described. It was vaguely human but where the eyes should +be, there were only blood soaked sockets. Hot carrion stench +emanated from the mucus filled holes where the nose should have +been and the face was also covered with leprous purple scars. There +were no lips, only a gaping putrid mouth dripping with venomous +saliva. I let out a scream of horror and kicked the thing away. The +thing was breathing heavily and so was I. It clutched at its chest +where the knife was stuck while blood sputtered from its mouth. I +saw my longsword lying on the cave floor and quickly picked it up. +I cautiously advanced towards the prone creature when with a +gurgling voice, it spoke. `` You have beaten me but I lay a +curse on your sons and their sons for eternity. Once every +generation, they will face a horrid enemy and that enemy will be +themselves!'' At the final word, it let out a final putrid +breath and ceased moving. + + + +I slumped on the ground and stared at the corpse. I must have +stayed that way for an eternity when the pain of my injuries +reasserted. I crawled my way towards the cave entrance, trying to +understand what had happened. I was almost out of the cave when I +caught my reflection in a pool of water. Suddenly I was sobbing. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Brushingworth} + + +This is gonna be long, I apologize. I also started to write in +first person like the Biddick work but it was just annoying to read +so hopefully you'll forgive me for slipping into third. I tried to +keep most of the other Biddick writing styles intact. + + + +I know its been done but this story takes place right after The +Horrid Reflection. + + + +{\bf Chamber Pop} + + + +Feebly, Luke Bavarious reached into his mouth and pushed on his +molar. He winced as it shifted unpleasantly in its socket. Pain +shot down his jaw and Bavarious clenched the edge of the sink. The +dried blood caked onto his hand cracked and fell into the sink in +large flat scabs. Bavarious raised his head and turned on the +water, hot all the way. Steam rose from the large sink. Bavarious +was in the basement of his office building. The door he had just +stumbled through was still open, letting in the night's +biting cold air; Bavarious didn't notice. He spat twice, +three times, into the sink and plunged his hands into the water, +clenching his fists at the near boiling temperature. The liquid was +quickly polluted to a dark red. + + + +``Shit,'' Bavarious let out as he finally opened his +office door on the sixth floor. Inside the lamp on his desk lit the +dim room. Someone in the plastic chair preceding his desk turned. +What the fuck, Bavarious thought suddenly, but he let out no sound. +``Ah, you're back,'' said the small boy sitting in +front of him. ``I've been waiting almost an hour.'' +``Well sorry kid,'' Bavarious responded as he trudged to +his desk chair, ``I've just about had enough people for +today.'' The kid stared at him unblinking. He was probably +thirteen or fourteen. ``Mr. Bavarious? I need to speak with +you about an important matter. Don't you think it's a +little funny that a kid like me is here to see you? Let me +introduce myself, I'm Oscar Crowley.'' While the kid was +talking, Bavarious unloaded his Berretta and gave the kid a +sarcastic glace every now and then. ``Alright listen +punk.'' Bavarious gestured with his Berretta as he spoke, +``Today's over. Finished. All that's left for me +is a bottle of Jack back home. If you've got some sort of way +of paying me outside of Monopoly money and lemonade stands than +tomorrow you can come back and give me your sob stories, tonight go +home. It's passed your bedtime anyways.'' + + + +Bavarious was spread eagle hanging upside down on the moldy couch. +He watched Law and Order on the TV upside down in front of him and +sipped whiskey from a bottle, most of which by this point dribbled +down his forehead. He didn't hear anything when the figure +slid open the kitchen window. From the fire escape a dark and dim +figure in combat boots stepped into the apartment. Bavarious, due +to an insurance commercial that annoyed him even in his inebriated +state, lifted the bottle for another swig and saw in the reflection +of the moving glass a dark figure lunging toward him. Bavarious +raised his hand to stop the intruder but the figure quickly batted +away his drunken defenses and closed two gloved hands around the +detective's throat. Bavarious' eyes bulged and he +coughed a mixture of alcohol and vomit. Flailing, Bavarious saw +that he was still holding the bottle of Jack and quickly smashed it +over the head of his assailant. After gasping for several minutes, +Bavarious got up to check on his unconscious prisoner. The man, if +it was a man, was clothed only in a long brown overcoat. His head +and face was covered by the coat's large hood. The +man's head was completely devoid of hair, Bavarious +couldn't tell if he was shaved or simply never grew any. His +face was what made Bavarious recoil. Under what should have been +the man's eyebrows (which were also missing) was nothing but +a series of gashes and burns. Large scars ripped up and down the +man's face, the larger ones continuing down into the robe +that Bavarious didn't want to look under. The only human +feature about the man's face was a vertical gash, about three +inches wide and four inches tall, where the intruder breathed +harshly. + + + +{\em I need some coffee}. Bavarious walked unsteadily in the +gutter. He had left the man/thing in his apartment exactly where he +had fallen. Probably not something he would have done sober but, +tonight he wasn't in the mood for procedure. His boot caught +the edge of a storm drain and he tumbled, scraping his hand on the +concrete. He sat that way for awhile. Watching the dirty water +funnel into the sewer. When he was ready to keep moving, he looked +up. Standing right next to him was Oscar Crowley. ``I told +you,'' said Oscar disappointedly. ``What the fuck are you +talking about kid,'' Bavarious spat, feeling only slightly +embarrassed at his language in front of the boy. Turning, Oscar +walked away from Bavarious. ``You're gonna lose yourself +in darkness, man.'' + + + +{\em What?} Bavarious watched the little boy walk away and thought +about the cryptic message. Did the boy know something about the +monstrosity that had just attacked him? He had to find out. Getting +up, he stumbled down the street and turned into the alley he had +seen the boy enter. Suddenly, he halted. Down the three foot wide +alley was nothing but a couple of garbage cans, a dumpster and some +wires running through the water on the ground. What slowly dawned +on Bavarious was that this was the very same alley that he had +encountered the monstrous noise violator early that day. He slowly +walked to the end of the alley and back three times, looking for +any way the boy could have left the alley without him seeing. On +the third trip back he gave up and decided to go for that coffee +after all, but stopped halfway out. He had been running his hand +down the eastern brick wall of the alley and this time he felt a +faint vibration in the stone. He put his ear up to the wall and +listened. At first he didn't hear anything and the wall +seemed to have settled, but a few seconds later he hear a slight +thudding sound and felt the wall shake once again. Bavarious +scanned the wall for a window or drain that might lead inside the +building. Seeing nothing left the alley. + + + +From the street the building didn't look like much. He +couldn't hear the thudding from this far, and the front wall +didn't seem to be shaking. The front had an old-fashioned +lighted sign that read ``Larry's RR'' and offered a +jukebox, soda fountain, and coffee. The front windows were broken +but had been boarded up by strong looking wood. BLACKOUT ARMISTICE +was splashed across the left board in black spray-paint. After +trying and failing to make sense of this felonious abstrusity, +Bavarious looked up to examine the upper floors of the building. +Most of the windows were boarded, plenty were broken, through a few +he saw a spare bookcase or desk but nothing was moving in any of +them. The longer he contemplated the lofts; he began to notice +something about the rooms. He couldn't quite focus on it +immediately, probably thanks to the last of the Jack still +digesting in his stomach. Suddenly he caught it. In a few of the +rooms he could see the same orange-tinted light faintly. Every so +often the light would flicker or go out altogether for a few +seconds. While this could have been attributed to a bad electrical +line, Bavarious noticed that in every one of the rooms the light +responded identically, as if the same bulb was burning out at the +end of every kitchen socket. + + + +Bavarious pulled his Beretta. {\em I'm going in}. He +wasn't sure why he was going in, but he was sure he was +going. He leapt up onto the right display window and landed on +broken glass. With the butt of his gun, Bavarious smashed into the +wood. Chips flew away but the barricade seemed unharmed. He tried +several more times and then went the front door. Bavarious +couldn't see through the glass door but it seemed to be +blocked only by paper. I hope I'm not gonna regret this. He +pulled his leather sleeve over his right hand and slammed the butt +of the gun through the glass door. It shattered and the glass fell +on both sides of the door. Through the paper he could see the decay +of an old caf\'e and the same orange light. He reached through +the tear and tried to unlock the door. The lock seemed to be +rusted. Sighing, Bavarious steeped one leg then the other through +the door, kicking away the rest of the paper. + + + +On the other side of the dining room the orange light poured +underneath a door that Bavarious thought looked like a bathroom. He +crossed the space quickly and approached the door. It was indeed a +bathroom, but the sign had been defaced. What had once been a +standard female figure had some sort of black stain on the front of +her skirt and was dripping black liquid from between her legs. +Bavarious thought it was the same spray-paint as the outside +proverb but he didn't examine it closely. He stood with his +hand on the door for a moment and suddenly he hear the same +thudding, much louder now, and a shuffling murmuring. Inhaling, +Bavarious opened the door with his Beretta drawn. + + + +Inside Bavarious took one and a half steps before stopping dead in +his tracks. His eyes glazed over and the orange light of the room +shined off them like blisters. The room was cavernous. The entirety +of the building had been hollowed out and Bavarious could see the +rooms he had seen from the streets above. They seemed to be +perfectly untouched until they simply ran out of floor. They gaped +out into sepulchral like pockmarks as if someone with a wrecking +ball had tried to demolish the building from the inside out. On the +floor of the room were fold-out metal chairs arranged in rows +giving the building a church-like atmosphere. The chairs were +almost completely filled with people. Bavarious couldn't tell +much about them due to the brown hoods they were all wearing. +Somewhere in his brain Bavarious recognized them as the same that +the man who had tried to kill him had worn. The same part of his +brain that realized there were over four hundred of them. That part +of his brain wasn't really important to Bavarious at that +moment. In fact he barely even noticed the room or the people in +the chairs. His eyes swept past them and were drawn to the sight +they were all apparently there to witness. + + + +At the far end of the room, a few yards to Bavarious' left, +was a man standing like an accursed teacher at a rusted wooden +fold-up table. Lying on the table were various medical instruments +and a small girl. Bavarious thought she might have been seven. She +had long tangled blonde hair that stretched past her shoulders and +ended soiled in the puddle of blood that she was lying in. The girl +had been split open vertically from neck down; the cut had not been +clean. The man at the table had removed most of the contents from +inside her but apparently left the connections. Spare blood vessels +and muscle ligaments crisscrossed over her and draped down to +various organs that were spread out on the table. Terrified, +Bavarious noticed that the girl was breathing slowly into a mask +that was connected to a makeshift airtank below the table. +Bavarious looked away and saw that at the front of the table, a few +feet from the first row of chairs, was the body of the man he had +shot earlier. The body was similarly dissected and seemed to be +waiting for some sort of terrible transplant procedure. + + + +Bavarious stood frozen. He mouth was slightly open. Suddenly, he +saw a door across the room open and Oscar Crowley step out. He was +also petrified by the scene and stood standing for several moments. +When he saw the girl on the table, however, he shouted +``Sam!'' and charged up the room. The onlookers seemed +shocked as well and Oscar made it almost all the way to the front +of the room before one of the men in robes reached out and grabbed +the back of his shirt. He was stopped dead by the strength of the +man. Slowly the nearest of the congregation raised from their seats +and helped subdue the boy. He kicked and bit at all that came near +him but eventually they dragged him to the front of the room in +custody where the standing man removed the mask from the girl and +placed it over Oscar who spat into the mouthpiece but eventually +slowed his thrashing and eventually closed his eyes. From there +most of the group returned to their seats while a few laid Oscar +next to the splayed corpse. Suddenly, Bavarious realized he was +sobbing. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{duck monster} + + +{\bf LUKE KILLS AN AMERICAN} + + + +Luke Barvarious stumbled into his classroom in Ho Chi Minh city. +Today they would be learning about the teachings of Chairman Mao, +the great Oarsman. + + + +It was different here, ever since he was abandoned by his pot +smoking hippy father back in the 80s, nothing was the same as it +was back home. + + + +And most of all he missed his father. Luke stayed up at night, +dreaming of the adventures through europe he took as a child with +his father, the musty streets of Spain, the wonderful aromas of +Paris, the cosmopolitain airs of venice. He enjoyed too the journey +through south east asia, visiting the big old temples and watching +father get blind drunk on Laotian rice wine. + + + +But then one day father disappeared , and Luke was taken by the +police and given to a stern family in the Vietnamese communist +party. He tried to be a good son to his new family, but they would +never let him forget that he was from the people that had murdered +so many before. + + + +And at school the children would taunt him, mocking his skin, his +eyes, his accent and his poor language skills. He couldn't remember +much of america, it was so long ago, but they'd never let him +forget he wasn't from here. + + + +But one day Luke was walking into the local bar, where he was +earning some pocket money serving the Japanese businessmen and +local Communist party officials, when a white man called him +over. + + + +``Hey kid, you look American. Wheres your folks?'', the man +said. + + + +``Uh. I was orphaned and I live with a family here now.'' + + + +``Oh, thats too bad. Tell ya what kid, meet me after closing and +we'll have a talk about America!'' + + + +Lukes heart skipped. Maybe this kind man could tell him about the +land he could barely remember. Maybe this man could tell him what +happened to father. + + + +Later that day Luke met the white man, and they went up to his +hotel room. The man showed him photos of Disney land, the white +house, and Luke marvelled at how rich and happy every one +seemed. + + + +``If only..'' , he said, ``.. If only I had a way to get +there.''. + + + +``Well son, I guess that'd cost money''. + + + +``Yeah{\ldots} '' said luke. + + + +``I know, I can give you money, but first you must do something for +me.'' + + + +The man hesitated then, + + + +``Kid. Ever heard of a blowjob?'' + + + +With that , the man unclipped his belt, and his pants fell to his +feet. Luke immediately froze up. He might be a naive kid, but he +knew what this meant. + + + +``DOWN DOWN AMERICAN PIG! DOWN WITH IMPERIALISM! DOWN WITH YANKEE +PERVERTS'' Luke shouted as he stuck the man in the groin with his +fist and suddenly a team of Viet Cong burst into the room and +pumped the old pervert with lead. + + + +As the man lied dying he looked up at luke and whispered ``I never +stopped loving you son.''. His eyes shed a tear, rolled back , and +he passed away. + + + +Luke realised then, that America is the father of the world. But +now he was growing up, truly a child of vietnam. Having defeated +the Imperialist, the adults would surely respect and honor him now. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Orgasmo} + + +{\bf Make My Day} + + + +The telephone rings. The cacophony breaks through the utter silence +of my New York flat overlooking Times Square. + + + +I can barely move. Even breathing hurts. These late night bar +fights are getting rougher each night and one of these nights +I'm going to wake up at a hospital instead of my warm +bed. + + + +I recalled earlier events. I was at a bar doing some recon on a +street gang by the name of the Dark Hawks, a gang of murderous +thieves. Their leader tried to make off with Lori's handbag +before I intervened. I grabbed the large man before he could make +off with it. + + + +``What is your name, villain?!'' + + + +``The name is Brickwall. Let me show you why.'' All of a +sudden I was thrown through a brick wall. Through the rubble I +grabbed a sleek, unyielding object and showed him the business end +of my pool cue, cracking him and his four goons out cold. These bar +fights are often brutal. But I always win. My name is Luke +Bavarious. + + + +The phone rings again. I let it go to voicemails. + + + +My rippling muscles ached as I turn over to address the device that +is emitting the noise. + +The caller ID showed that it was Marty. Who left the message. I hit +play. + + + +``Luke, listen, I don't have much time. I'm down +here in the South Street Seaport and shit's about to go +dow-`` + + + +Click. The line went into an eerie quiet like a tombstone. He +sounded frantic. Perhaps I should have taken his call. + + + +I got up, careful to not wake up Lori, and headed to the restroom. +I take a rough inventory of the various bleeding cuts and bruises +Brickwall had incurred upon me the night before. + + + +Back in the room, I grabbed my Beretta from the nightstand. The +sleek black metal filled my hand and I felt its power coursing +through my veins. I cocked the hammer and chambered a bullet. Who +knows what evil darkness will be faced. + + + +I set out into the dark and macabre night. I turned on my Walkman +and played the same song I listen to before I embark on all my +dangerous missions. I howled into the night: + + + +{\em ``Pump up the jam + +Pump it up + +A pump it up - yo pump it + + + +Pump up the jam + +Pump it up + +A pump it up - yo pump it + + + +I don't want + +A place to stay + +Get - your booty - on the floor tonight + +Make my day + + + +I don't want + +A place to stay + +Get - your booty - on the floor tonight + +Make my -} + + + +A kid stepped out onto the path. His clothes were in tatters and he +smelled like an outhouse. Snot ran profusely down his nose and he +slurped it with his tongue. + + + +''Sir, please don't go out to the docks. I foresee something +terrible happening.`` + + + +''Beat it, kid." I glared down at the rapscallion and pushed him +aside. He lost his balance and fell backwards into an open manhole +cover. His yelp was cut off when he landed on a mangled shopping +cart that lay at the bottom of the sewer and blood flew out of the +open manhole, landing all over Bavarious. The noxious mixture of +blood, snot, and the liquefied shit of the entire Lower East Side +sewer system covered my face and I vomited back into the sewer. I +lost control of all bodily function and for several minutes vomit +came out of my mouth and shit came out of my ass. Everytime I +turned around I resembled a human sprinkler of shit and vomit. With +the help of a lemon-scented wipee I regained my composure after +this unexpected ordeal and continued on my way. + + + +At the Seaport, an eerie quiet abounded. One boat had some lights +on but it was offshore. I rappelled down the Brooklyn Bridge and +back-flipped onto the deck. I lay crouched for a few minutes, my +duster billowing in the wind, eyes scanning the deck for +movement. + + + +I maneuvered towards one of the lit ports. Inside, several thugs +were playing poker. The guy nearest me had a deuce and a seven +off-suit. ``I'm all in,'' he growled. + + + +I announced, to their shock, ``and I'm all +out{\ldots}'' and proceeded to open fire into the room, +spraying metal and lead into their shocked bodies. My Beretta rang +into the still night. + + + +``{\ldots}of bullets.'' + + + +The scene before me was of utter horror. Dead or dying men lay +everywhere. Where chips used to be, brains now covered the table. +One man was choking as rust-colored blood sprayed intermittently +out of his neck. He looked at me in a shocked way and giggled. This +grotesque scene played out for a few minutes. Suddenly, he was +dead. + + + +After the carnal scene was complete, I made my way down the stairs +stepping with my feet sideways like a ninja would take a flight of +stairs. I grabbed the sides of my duster so as to not give away my +whereabouts. + + + +In the darkness, a hand gripped down upon my shoulder. Suddenly, I +was thrown through a brick wall and blacked out. The last thing I +heard was a terrible laugh that sounded like a burp. + + + +When I awoke Marty was standing over me with a sneer. ``You +stupid son of a bitch. Did you think I'd really turn +informant? You've pissed off a lot of people, Bavarious. A +lot of people who wouldn't be sad if you took a long drink in +the Hudson.'' + + + +I tried to move but was stuck. My feet were incased in +cement. + + + +``Ok, Brick, drop `im.'' + + + +With a sneer, the large man behind him pulled a lever and the floor +opened up beneath me. The cold water shocked me as I hurtled to the +bottom of the riverbed. When I finally hit bottom the force was so +large that my cellphone flipped open and accidentally called +Lori. + + + +Back in the flat, Lori groggily picked up her cellphone in the +darkness. + + + +``hello..?'' + + + +``MUGLARHGHARGH'' + + + +``I'm sorry?'' + + + +``RHUGLUGLRAH'' + + + +Click. + + + +When her phone rang again, she let it go to voicemails. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{cruft} + + +If the goons are up for it, I'd like to take the winning stories +and drawings, typeset them, and bind them into an actual book. I +can either do the cereal box cover pictured below, or I can use a +heavier cardboard, glue some cloth to it, and try to make it look +like an actual hardcover book. Then I'll mail it to Mr Biddick, +with maybe some horrible knick nacks. + + + +I'll also make a thread about putting it all together, in case +other goons want to bind their own books. + + + + + + + + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{lemonlime} + + +Oooh that sounds bitchin, cruft. It needs a dedications page, too, +one that's just like the original. Maybe the honor of composing the +dedication could be granted to the winner, along with the other +prizes? + + + +And I would totally read an A/T about homegrown bookbinding. Your +whole idea is + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{kerimeton} + + +{\bf White} + +When the white ward doors opened on that chestnut autumn day I was +reminded of the front doors of my garden shed in Vermont. I +remember feeling cold the same way I did that day, not in a +classical sense but down to the bone. I was feeling an abominable +chill as if I had been pumped full of antifreeze the moment the +doors came into view. And also, much like my garden shed, I was +afraid was what was there. Whether my fears were tangible or not +was to be proven, I myself, I no longer cared for the suffering +trumped any fear or loathing I felt. + + + +I walked down the plasticine hallways and kept my head down; chin +on chest. It was as if a weight of shame had been strapped to my +neck and my only option was to walk like a sorry prisoner. + + + +``Admission?`` the barrel-chested nurse asked behind her oak +podium. + + + +``Yes'' + + + +``Which ward`` she continued with the expression of an aghast +ape. + + + +''Psychiatry`` + + + +``Name.'' She was curt and unwavering. No doubt the brain +behind that placid face was as rudimentary as a record +player. + + + +"Luke Barvarious'' I paused. ``Barvarious, +Luke'' + + + +She nodded curtly as if to suggest that I had somehow made that +record player run more smoothly. + + + +``Reason for admission'' + + + +It was neither a question nor a statement. She prattled it off as +if she was in bored haze. + + + +``I don't know'' + + + +She paused and stared at me. It was hard and cold as if she was +trying to read my ill intentions. She failed due to a lack of +any. + + + +``Mr.Barvarian'' + + + +``Barvarious'' + + + +``Mr. Barvarious'' she repeated, still saying it wrong, +``I suppose I can admit you to a psychologist but I cannot do +further for now.'' + + + +``I see'' + + + +``You understand'' she said with a matte expression, +``that is the procedure for all self admissions'' + + + +I took a seat in front of the office and waited. I was soon called +in and immediately expressed my distaste for the poor classical +music on the loudspeakers. The psychiatrist ignored me on that +point. She reminded me of a wooden plank in personality and +stature. + + + +``The report says your 25?'' + + + +``Yes'' + + + +She seemed puzzled. + + + +``Well, can I ask why you admitted yourself?'' + + + +``It started years ago'' I said in deep thought, ``I +remember that my mother was ill and the doctor was recommending +some futile medicine. I was barely 12 then but I knew he was +wrong.'' + + + +``I see'' + + + +I proceeded, ``I insisted and insisted but I failed to be +heard.'' + + + +``Interesting'', at this moment her assistant came in and +a word was whispered into her ear. I failed to realize the +significance of this and continued. + + + +``It turns out I was right, but due to the fact of my age my +words were ignored and cast aside.'' + + + +The physiatrist seemed puzzled again but told me to continue. + + + +``It's been going on even since a younger age. Nobody +takes me seriously. When I was young is was due to my youth and in +my older years it was because of my youthful +appearance.'' + + + +``I see'' + + + +``I recall observing a fire being put out on a Sunday evening. +I remember pleading the firemen to take the back route but I was +continually ignored,'' I paused in repose. ``Do you see +what I mean, where I'm coming from?'' + + + +The lady got up and treaded lightly on the floor. It appeared as if +she had taken a tome of information from what I had said. She +walked to the alcove and poured herself a glass of water. She told +me quietly that she wondered why this was affecting me now and why +it took so long for me to come to her. I replied that I +didn't think that was much help, to which the doctor replied +that she was the trained psychiatrist here. + + + +We paused in stifling silence and I realized that the meeting was +over long before I came in. I felt choked in the stuffy room as if +I was wearing a sweater in a sauna. There was an uncomfortable aura +around the couch and the plants that I felt uncomfortable with. The +urge to stand up ran through my legs but was confronted with the +sound of a knock on the door. + + + +The doctor stood up and led the uniformed men in, they held me down +and I knew resistance was futile. I could not understand the +predicament though I understood the pain of the tightened +straitjacket. Once again I was muffled and thrown in the room +leaving them only to wonder how I had escaped in the first place. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{rinski} + + +I just got caught up on all the entries. I predict Horrors II will +legitimize the genre of ``horror, as written by a 13 +year-old.'' + + + +Ben, how does it feel to have inspired a literary movement? + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Dr. Mulholland} + + + +rinski posted: +I predict Horrors II will legitimize the genre of +``horror, as written by a 13 year-old.'' + + + +Biddickian literature. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Zahgaegun} + + +{\bf The Pus-Stained Email from Hell} + + + +The sweat dripped off my forehead, running down my face and forming +salty pools on the ground. Pools like the pools of blood that +always form after I kill someone. I have seen a lot of blood pools +in my lifetime for I have killed a lot of people in a lot of very +messy ways. + + + +It's what I do. My name is Luke Bavarious; hitman, soldier, +{\em killer}. + + + +I had been called to this sweaty place, Arabia, to kill some guys. +This was an honorable job, a soldier's mission. ``We need some guys +killed so we called you'', they said on the phone. And here I was, +in this God-forsaken hellhole, hunched over this screen, hoping for +a morsel of communication from Home, something to feed my rotting +brain, to let me know that there was a Reason To Fight, To +Live. + + + +Suddenly, the machine screamed out a bing-bong. New mail. It made +me smile because it reminded me of the time that I told that hooker +``You've got Male!'' while we did the sex. Now she's dead. That wiped +the smile off my face. + + + +``I'm from the Internet'', the letter moaned onto the screen. ``We +have found your Hidden Stash of Writings from Long Ago.'' Dang, I +thought, I had hoped that no one would find that. The sweat drips +came faster now, the pools getting bigger like a child vomiting +blood{\ldots}-red cherry slurpees from the fear of riding the Viking +Ship at the county fair. + + + +``Hurry'', it continued to moan, ``there are already many people here +pretending to be you.'' I typed fast as I could, pus-filled blisters +rising from the friction of the keyboard on my gnarled fingertips. +``I am coming'', I typed, ``Prepare the way.'' I tried to log in, but +the passwords they used were too long, too complicated for my +gnarled brain. I may only be thirteen, but my soul is almost 100 +years old, due to all the killing. + + + +Before I could get there, the sergeant bellowed my name. ``It is +time to kill'', he said while handing me a beretta and a knife. +``This is all we have left. Are you a bad enough dude to kill +everyone with just this?'' ``Yes'', said I, the cold steel of the +knife blade glinting off my eyeballs. ``Did you warn them?'', I +asked. ``Yes'', the sergeant burped. ``We flew over them and dropped +fliers warning them in whatever language they speak.'' ``Good. Then +it is fair.'', I said and walked off towards the gate of the +compound, the gate of my future and their destiny. + + + +As he walked away, a private leaned towards the sergeant and said +``Warn them of what?'' + + + +``I warned them that The Writer is coming.'', he said. ``God have +mercy on their souls.'' + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Quovak} + + + +cruft posted: +If the goons are up for it, I'd like to take the +winning stories and drawings, typeset them, and bind them into an +actual book. + + + + +I also love this idea. It would be even better if we could actually +get the final anthology vanity published, but not spending a lot of +money also works. Discount Bees needs to do cover art, though. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Bonaventure} + + +The Horrid Reflection II: Horrider Reflections + + + +The screamers screamed past with a screaming scream that screamed +in the ears of Luke Bavarious Junior. They were horrid and horrible +beings of indescribable horror. But if you had to describe one then +they looked exactly like Ghost Face the famous killer from the +Scream movies. Luke Bavarious Junior woke up with a scream because +he had been screaming in his dream when he was dreaming of the +screamers. ``What are ya screamin' for?'' said Luke +Bavarious Senior who is the protagonist of the story and who is +Luke Bavarious Junior's father and who came into the room +where Luke Bavarious was screaming. + +``I saw the screamers again dad,'' Luke Bavarious Junior +whimpered. + +``Gah!'' his dad Luke Bavarious, paranormal P.I. said. He +said ``Gah! You've been watching too much Scream. I told +you that stuff rots up your brains into blood. Now I'm going +to burn your Scream DVDs so you stop having +nightmares.'' + +``No! Not my Scream DVDs!'' screamed Luke Bavarious +Junior. ``I'll show you, dad{\ldots} I'll show you +that kids should be respected and listened to'' he grit his +teeth until they bled blood all over his chin. + + + +``I'm off to work honey'' Luke Bavarious said to +his hot wife who was still in bed because---heh, women. Am I +right, fellas? Then he put a donut on his pillow next to the wife, +he got the donut from the donut shop across the street and every +day he put a donut on his pillow for his wife to eat, this is +important information to remember because it foreshadows the twist +ending that's coming up. + + + +Luke Bavarious had been known as the paranormal detective ever +since The Case of the Horrid Reflection where he killed a +doppelganger. ``So you're Luke Bavarious.'' The +words vomited out of the mouth of the police chief. ``I hear +you've been known as the paranormal detective ever since you +killed a doppelganger.'' Luke nodded and chewed on his +noir-as-hell cigar. ``That's impressive stuff. +Dopplegangers are tough to beat cause they have the same moveset +and equipment you do.'' + +``Tell me about it, chief.'' Bavarious crammed a fist +into his mouth that was full of peanuts and then he chewed down the +peanuts into a horrid gloopy paste that slid down his disgusting +horrible throat. + +``Well, you're just the man I need,'' said the +chief. ``We got reports of a doppelganger factory that's +taken over the old Frankenstein-making factory out on +I-45.'' + +``Say no more, chief.'' Bavarious cocked his Beretta and +doffed his really sweet fedora. Then he drove to the doppleganger +factory. + + + +The doppelganger factory was filled with bile and amniotic fluid +and all sorts of gross blood and vomit. The dopplegangers were +being made in sacs of pus. Bavarious shot up the sacs of pus and +was covered in sheets of vomit and fat as the baby dopplegangers +writhed on the floor in a scary way. ``Luke Bavarious'' +said the head doppelganger who had set up the doppelganger factory. +Bavarious narrowed his eyes. The doppelganger was horrid with +horrible pus scars all over his purpley face screwed up looking +gross. + +``I thought I killed you, Luke Bavarious,'' said Luke +Bavarious, when he recognized himself as the doppelganger he +thought he killed but he didn't really. + +``You thought you killed me, Luke Bavarious, but you +didn't really. I just feigned death by copying a dead guy at +that moment. We dopplegangers are good at copying stuff. Here, +I'll copy a guy vomiting acid at you!'' then he vomited +acid at Luke Bavarious, and boy it just stank to high heaven, ugh! +Bavarious was ready though and he shot the doppelganger making +machinery above the doppelganger and then the factory started to +explode in sparks and blood and black bile and white pus as the +doppelganger sacs all exploded and a billion baby dopplegangers +screamed out in dying death forever. The head doppelganger screamed +as all the blood and pus and bones exploded out of him like in a +Mortal Kombat fatality. + +``Another day another time the earth was saved from +dopplegangers by Luke Bavarious'' said Luke Bavarious as he +walked away in slow motion. Behind him, the factory exploded. + + + +That night in his home Luke Bavarious slept asleep, but Luke +Bavarious Junior was up and he sneaked off to the kitchen and +turned on the deep fryer. He had evil red eyes and he laughed, +``Haw, haw!'' He raised a voodoo doll in the air although +more accurately it's a European witchcraft doll because the +idea of sympathetic magic used through dolls doesn't have +anything to do with traditional voodoo but was instead an idea from +European ideas about witchcraft that was conflated with rumors +about voodoo okay but ANYWAY he takes the doll and he raises it +over the deep fryer and then he monologues: ``Haw, haw! Dad, +you might have saved the world from those dopplegangers but +I'll teach you to burn my Scream DVDs. Now when I want to +watch Sarah Michelle Gellar get killed in Scream 2 and masturbate +to it I'm going to have to search for ``Sarah Michelle +Gellar death Scream 2'' on youtube and like half of them are +going to be music videos and none of them are going to be good +quality and it's going to be a real pain in the neck! +I'll get revenge for that! You're going to learn a +lesson, dad. Kids should be respected and listened to, because if +you mess with them, maybe they have a voodoo doll---although +really it should be called a European witchcraft doll but +I'll get into that later---and then they'll do +THIS!'' and he threw the doll into the deep fryer and +uproariously began to cackle softly to himself with a silent +``Haw, haw, haw!'' + + + +The next morning, Mrs. Bavarious woke up and found a donut on Luke +Bavarius' bed. ``Oh, he must have already left!'' +she pooed, and then she bit into the donut. A scream of horrid +terror burst her throat open as she bit into the donut and, like in +a sex scene starring one of the Wayans brothers, she was splayed +against the wall by a torrent of blood, guts, and Bavarian cream. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Akbar} + + +{\bf Wicked Workout} + + + +Luke Bavarious was on the prowl. Earlier that night, the detective +had received notice from the chief that some unidentified killer +was stalking the Upper East Side. Already five had been found dead. +Each was murdered in the same gruesome fashion: arms hyperextended, +hair ripped out to the follicle, legs bowed at the knees as if the +ligaments were carefully torn, and finally, a smile carved across +the face wide enough to completely cover the corpse in its own +liquid lifeforce. + + + +{\em What kind of goddamn maniac are we dealing with here? The +Joker?} Bavarious thinks to himself as he carefully primes his +trusty Baretta, referencing the recent Batman film. He tenderly +fingers the safety. He steps out of his Ford Pinto into the cool +New York night. + + + +He stalks the sidewalks seeing nothing but the steam rising out of +the sewers onto the dim streets. His eyes are optic daggers, +piercing into the darkness. His muscles are taut, ready to unleash +the leaden payload of his sidearm into villainous flesh. He sees +the telltale trail of fresh blood on the pavement. + + + +{\em It's on.} + + + +As he follows the sanguine highway into the alley behind a 24-Hour +Fitness, he begins to hear a slow pounding in the night air. Slowly +but surely, it grows louder and louder as he approaches the +wellspring of the molten vein-magma. Before, it was just a +thumping. Now, however, it is more recognizable: a beat. A melody. +A hot sensation rushes through Bavarious' body. + + + +``Dance music!'' he ejaculates softly as he creeps to the +source: a partially-open doorway flooding the shadowy alleyway with +light. He nudges the door with his foot and peers into the hell +below. Bodies! Dozens of them. Strung up by the arms on chains +attached to huge meathooks, their feet barely reaching the ground. +The bodies were jerked hardily up and down to the cadence of the +music. Their arms strained against the tension. Their legs slapped +against the concrete floor over and over, as if horrifically +tapping along to the beat. The battered limbs heaved droplets of +blood and pulverized bone into the air. In front of them all was a +horrid taskmaster. + + + +``Up and kick and down and step and up and kick +and{\ldots}REMEMBER TO SMILE!'' + + + +Bavarious could only see the back of the man, but he was already +repulsed to the point of vomiting. Dressed only in a red jersey, +dolphin shorts, and running shoes, the short man runs to and fro in +front of his victims, only a handful of which that were still +conscious or alive. The tormentor's bouffant hair bounces as +he taunts the wounded. The killer then takes out a wicked curve +blade out of his shorts and carves open a pleading woman's +face, laughing as he watches her throw up her fluid +existence. + + + +{\em What the hell is this?} Bavarious thinks as he makes sure +that his Baretta is locked and loaded, regurgitated chicken dinner +still spewing out of his mouth. Jumping up, he yells out: + + + +``FREEZE! THIS IS DETECTIVE BAVARIOUS OF THE NYPD! I HAVE A +BARETTA LOCKED ONTO YOUR HEAD AND I WILL FIRE IF YOU DO NOT +COMPLY!'' + + + +The demon in front of him does not. Instead, he leaps otherwordly +to the right, launching his disgusting body as approximately +fifty-five miles per hour. Bavarious reacts with equal speed, +letting loose with half a score of death slugs. All of them hit as +the swiss-cheesed body hits the floor with a thud. Bavarious races +up to confirm his kill, wiping away the now-crusty sick on his +chin. + + + +Rather than a cadaver, however, he sees only the man, still facing +away from him. Still on his feet. Still alive. Filled with dread, +Bavarious unloads another barrage of rounds from his only true +friend, the Baretta he keeps on his hip. The bullets zip through +the gym teacher from hell as if nothing was there. In their wake, +they leave gaping holes that eject a clear liquid. The vitreous +material tumbles out of the entry wounds like a rain. A shower of +translucent gymnasts somersaulting through the air. The gashes +slowly close and leave no trace of their former existence, even in +the man's clothing. + + + +``WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!'' the detective screams as he +discharges the rest of his lethal cargo, again to no avail. The man +finally slowly begins to turn around, revealing his bloated +face. + + + +``Richard{\ldots}Simmons{\ldots}?'' Bavarious murmurs +into the air, putrid with aerosolized human body parts. + + + +``No,'' the man says as he fully presents himself, and +then rips off his face revealing another underneath. It is an oddly +familiar visage. ``I'm you.'' + + + +Both Luke Bavariouses vomit. Tears. + + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Zahgaegun} + + + +Akbar posted: +Placeholder for entry - COMING SOON + + + + +Tick tock tick tock. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Paracetamol Boy} + + +I love all the entries where Luke Bavarius ends up crying. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Twigand Berries} + + + +Akbar posted: +Placeholder for entry - COMING SOON + + + + +My favorite. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{antiloquax} + + + +Twigand Berries posted: +My favorite. + + + + +You're right. They need to lower the word count, because damn. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{HastyDeparture} + + + +Akbar posted: +Placeholder for entry - COMING SOON + +It had me on the edge of my seat, it had me on the verge of tears, +it left me wanting more. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Akbar} + + +I just wanted to make sure AYBraham didn't close the contest on me. +Enjoy. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Akbar} + + +E: Shit doublepost. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Twigand Berries} + + + +Akbar posted: +E: Shit doublepost. + + + + +New favorite. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Akbar} + + + +Twigand Berries posted: +New favorite. + + + + + You're going to make me vomit tears. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Swanky} + + +{\bf ``Gold Ribbon''} + + + +``Those things will kill you, ya know'', Percival +growled, spitting up blood onto his rope-bound hands. + +``Don't worry; they're filtered'', Bavarious +coyly said as he blew smoke into Percival's battered +face. + +Luke Bavarious wiped his hands of blood, as he had spent the better +part of the past six hours trying to coax the safe combo out of +this man. The night before Bavarious received a clean manilla +envelope on his doorstep. Inside that envelope was a picture of a +boy, inside a large safe, a bandana in his mouth with the words +``Wednesday, 8 PM 50,000 in a duffle bag at 1st and 1st or he +runs out of oxygen''. + + + +Bavarious knew he was a go-to guy, but nothing got his gib like an +innocent kid whose life lie in his hands. Especially little Johnny +Powell, a doe-eyed kid he knew through a local Big Brother's, +Big Sister's program he used to participate in. Johnny loved +to talk, and just ramble on about science and school. He was one +bright kid. He might as well have been his own brother. Or even his +own son. Percival didn't have the money, and he knew that if +he went to the police that kid would be as good as dead. This kid +wanted to be a scientist when he grew up. Not a ball player or +astronaut, but a guy who does experiments. He was just a kid, after +all. + + + +He recognized the handwriting of the note, and the brown shag +carpeting on the bottom of the picture clenched it. It was Percival +Johnson's house. Timmy Johnson's father. A good man, a +family man, but who knows what was going on in his head. Could have +been just money problems or even something worse. But that +doesn't matter. What's important is that he knows the +guy behind that picture. And where he lives. + + + +Shortly after receiving that picture, Luke got in his black, +tinted-window sedan and scoped out Percival's house. The plan +was to camp out near Percival's home, then when Percival was +coming home from work, catch him while he's getting +undressed. Luke had his trusty sidearm and no regrets, save for +what poor Timmy might see. Scarring one life is better than ending +another, he repeated to himself. + + + +Once he made his break into the house, everything was a blur. +Percival was shocked, but gave up a curiously easy fight. +Bavarious' heart was beating out of his chest as he dragged +the man, having been pistol-whipped and dazed, towards his basement +and that unmistakable brown shag carpet. Sure enough, as he threw +Percival down the stairs, he could see the safe out of the corner +of his eye. He just hoped poor Johnny was still alive. + + + +He dragged Percival's laughing and oddly limp body over to +the safe, bound his hands and started a routine of inquiry as to +the combo of the safe. + + + +He put the cigarette out on the shag carpet. + + + +``I'm running out of patience, and soon my knife will +begin to ask questions. And he makes me look like a +gentleman.'' + +Percival began to come to a bit out of whatever stupor he seemed to +be in. + +``Wait, what? Where{\ldots}where am I?'' + +``You're a few minutes away from losing your life unless +you give me your safe combo, pal.'' + +``But I'm{\ldots}oh, god, I'm so +sorry{\ldots}okay, 35{\ldots}35, 29, 53'' + + + +Luke looked at Percival like a lost kitten covered in flour, but he +had no time to ask why this man suddenly came-to. He propped up +Percival against the wall, but wondered if there was something even +more fishy than he originally thought. He positioned himself near +the safe expecting his journey to be nearly over. + + + +He tapped on the safe like a father-to-be gently tapping on the +pregnant belly of his wife. + +``Don't worry buddy, I'll get you out soon''. +He heard nothing. + +``35{\ldots}29{\ldots}53''. + +Click. + +He turned the handle and opened the safe. Just as he was about to +look inside, expecting a sense of relief unlike anything he had +heard before, something happened. + +Thud. + + + +Luke slowly came back to consciousness, he found himself sitting +next to Percival, his hands, legs, thighs all bound very tightly +with wire. His head was pounding to hard to try to move, but he +knew he knew small, nimble fingers tied those knots. As he +struggled to raise his head to see the two figures coming towards +the lit part of the basement, he noticed it was little Tommy +holding a clip-board and, perfectly healthy, holding a wrench, was +little Johnny. + + + +``Johnny{\ldots}what is this?'' Luke whispered, his eyes +begin to tear with his inevitable realization. + +``Tommy and I are doing our science fair project, remember? He +was testing the effects of his mother's pills on Mr. Johnson. +We ground it up in his orange juice.'' + +``But{\ldots}what{\ldots}about{\ldots}'' + +``Part of my experiment was testing the effects of fear on +head injury'' + +``{\em Part}?'', Percival asked, his tone ever more +hopeless. + +The unmistakable sound of a dentist drill could be heard in the +background. + +``Yes, Mr. Bavarious. Part.'' + +Bavarious wept uncontrollably. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Cruo} + + +{\bf The Smoker} + +I stepped up to the door. The smell of the smoke was leaking +through the door. I was at the front door of Gus's Bar and +Grill. My hand started to shake a bit as I reached toward the +handle. I paused. I reached for my Beretta instead. My name is Luke +Bavarious, I am a private detective called in to investigate a +smoking complaint. I love my job. + + + +I kicked in the front door with my boot, my Beretta ready for any +trouble I might find myself in. All I see is the bartender washing +out a mug at the bar with a terrified look on his face. With his +head he gestures to the corner. I follow his jerks and find my eyes +looking on the face of a boy. The boy was the age of a fifth +grader. At last, the source of the smoke has been discovered. I +yelled to the boy, ``Hey you! Yeah you in the corner, drop the +cigarette now!'' The boy only smiled and waved me to come +closer. + + + +As I walked closer I got this horrid feeling that I knew the boy, +but I couldn't quite place it. I asked him why he thought it +was okay to smoke in this bar when the law clearly says it is +against the law. He flashed me another of his mischievous smiles +and asked, ``What's the matter Luke you don't +recognize me?'' + + + +Suddenly the thought came to me but I couldn't believe in my +own thought. ``I.. I.. wha.. who are you?'' + + + +``Really Luke, when was the last time you've looked in +the mirror?'' + + + +``No! This is impossible! You can't be!'' + + + +``Oh but I am Luke, I am you and you know it. Well{\ldots} I +was you.'' + + + +I was staring into the face of myself as a fifth grader. I +tentatively asked, ``Why are you here, what do you +want?'' + + + +``Luke, I was sent from the future to warn you of +something.'' + + + +``What do you mean the future, you're from the +past?'' + + + +``Shut up Luke, I was sent from the future, you wouldn't +understand so let me get back to my warning. I was sent to warn you +about finishing your little project.'' I was building a robot +in my garage in my spare time, that had to be what he was talking +about. ``Your little project may seem innocent enough now, but +it will be the end of mankind as you know it, and you must destroy +it before you finish, you must!'' + + + +Suddenly I saw a blue flash next to the boy who was myself from the +past but from the future. Some acid like substance sprayed out +through the flash instantly and the boys face started melting in +front of my eyes. It was terrifying, the skin and the blood and his +eyes and his tongue were all fusing together in a horrid tangle of +disgusting gore. I could see his bones through his melting face and +his screams were the stuff of nightmare. I started to intensely +vomit all that was held in my stomach, so intense that blood +started pouring out alongside the sick substance. My eyes were +bulging and my ears were pumping hard with the beat of my heart. +The boy was now a pile of melted flesh and blood and gore. + +I dropped to my knees and scooped the pile of the once past future +self into my arms. Suddenly, I was sobbing. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{TarDolphinorShark} + + +The Homeless Monster + + + +Luke Bavarious sat weeping in his rust colored apartment. The kind +of apartment that wept pain and vomited sorrow from every bowed +ceiling tile to every dinged and dingy wall. It had been three +weeks since that fatal night and he just couldn't get it out +of his head. His once normal life was twisted into a tormented and +nightmareish existence. As he sat cleaning his Beretta, the very +Beretta he was issued from the precinct, he remembered that fateful +evening. Rain was vomiting from the sky and it sounded as if a +thousand wounds were spilling mucus and pus from their pierced +membranes. Luke walked down the street when suddenly he saw a +sobbing mess of a man. Homeless scum he thought. This man was +wearing a disheveled burlap sack with tears that looked like the +ripped flesh of a person who was left for dead long ago. Luke +grimaced at the homeless man, thinking to himself ``I'll +bet this is the guy the chief told me about, I won't have any +noise complaints on my watch!'' Suddenly he exploded into +action drawing his Beretta he steadied it at the homeless man who +whimpered at first, but gradually started to let loose a blood +curdling scream that smelled of death and reeked of vengeance. +``YOU LET ME BECOME THIS MESS OF A HUMAN!'' the homeless +man shouted. He leaped at Luke arms flailing wildly and razor sharp +fingernails digging into Luke's arm and revealing the rust +colored life force within him. Luke's Beretta skittered +across the alley just out of reach. ``Without my Beretta I +will have to handle this mad man using my bare hands'' Luke +thought to himself. As he exploded forward lungs heaving and arms +outstretched he made contact with the man. Wrapping his arms around +the homeless man's neck he wrenched and wrenched until the +neck split like a ripened banana, spilling a vibrant rouge all over +the asphalt. The gore was thick, and layered in between +Luke's fists which made it harder to grip his now reclaimed +Beretta. As he steadied his shot, he kept feeling a nagging +suspicion in the back of his Anger filled mind. He knew this man +once, but he could not place it. ``No matter.'' Luke +thought, This man is a burden on society and must be dealt with. +Luke cocked the hammer of his Beretta and as the hammer of justice +falls on those who do wrong, so did the hammer of the Beretta fall +on the firing pin launching round after round into what Luke +considered human garbage. The man's skull exploded and his +chest lit up with the continuous barrage of hot lead pouring from +the only real friend Luke had, his Beretta. The homeless man winced +one last time as snot and spit and vomit erupted from his mouth, +eyes, and nose like a morbid fountain. As he rolled over to die, +Luke saw something in his hand. Luke crouched down to gaze upon the +item, and noticed it was a picture, a picture of a familiar person. +LUKE BAVARIOUS, but who was the man in that picture? Luke stared at +the man, and then the photograph, the pieces finally coming +together. ``Father'' he thought, as he clutched the +picture in his hands like a hawk clutches a dying mouse. If I would +have known you'd end up like this I would have dropped out of +the academy, but I made my choice, and you made yours. +``Nobody makes noise on Luke Bavarious' watch!'' +Luke said as he chambered one last round, and placed it right +between his rotting father's eyes. + +e: for title + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Blurry Gray Thing} + + +I have no idea how my story stacks up with the other entries. I did +not read them yet to try and keep my entry as pure ``Ben Biddick'' as +I could get. It's not a parody, it's not a mockery - it is an +honest attempt to write a story that could sit in the original +``Horrors'' without looking out of place. + + + +I may have permanently crippled my writing skill. I look at this +thing before me, and vomit tears. + + + + + + + +{\bf Monstrous} + + + +In the shadows of our overcrowded cities lurk unspeakable horrors. +No one knows or can imagine the horrid reality that lurks beneath +our wholesome fa\,cade. I am one of the few people who does. I +am a private detective. My name is Luke Bavarious. These are my +stories. + + + +I was investigating a brutal serial killer operating in the bad +side of New York. When I saw his latest victim, I was stricken by +the horrid brutality of his violence. The murderer cut out the +homeless man's heart, stabbed him through the eyes, and +carved him open from buttocks to head. Vomit forced its way past my +teeth, and poured into the gutter, mixing with the unfortunate +victim's blood. That night, I went home and drank whiskey +until the alcoholic poison killed all the feeling in my +brain. + + + +I used my detective skills to track the murderer to a warehouse in +the worst part of the city. I knew the killer had to be there. All +of the monstrous murders pointed to it. As I walked there, I felt +nauseous. The people all around me were garbage. Prostitutes and +thieves. They did not deserve to live. But they did not deserve to +be brutally murdered. + + + +I stalked carefully into the warehouse. My combat boots carried me +silently through the shadows. I heard a man ranting and I saw a dim +light coming from a small room. It had to be him. + + + +``Why are there so many of you now? Where are you all coming +from!?'' The man was insane. Whoever he was talking to +grunted. + + + +``You can stop pretending! I know what you really are. I +won't let you get away with it! I'll kill all of +you!'' he was screaming. I had to save his victim. + + + +I smashed open the door with my shoulder. There was an old man in +horribly ragged clothing tied to a chair. There was also a thin, +pale man with pitch-dark hair, holding a knife. The knife was rusty +and fat from all the blood it had drank. I raised my Beretta at his +head. + + + +``Hold it! Let him go!'' I ordered the killer. + + + +``No! Please, you don't understand,'' he said. His +face was twisted by tears and rage. He raised his knife to impale +the victim's face. + + + +``No, you don't understand. Put down your weapon, or I +will shoot you,'' I ordered again. The rust-colored knife fell +out of his hands. He was sobbing. I started untying the old man. +The old man smelled like blood. I thought it was because he was +injured. + + + +``No!'' screamed the murderer. ``Don't let him +loose! He'll kill us both! He's a monster! You +don't understand!'' + + + +``You are the only monster here, pal!'' I untied the old +man completely. + + + +Suddenly, the homeless man let out a horrid roar. It almost +deafened me. I could not do anything to stop him. He flew at the +murderer teeth-first, like a human-sized vulture, and tore at his +neck. Blood the color of ripened apples exploded all over the tiny +room, and shone bright red in the light of a single bulb. I fired +my Beretta at what I had so incorrectly assumed was a victim. The +recoil shot through my arm but he did not stop. He tore apart the +man's skin, muscles, and arteries with horrible strength, +even as I squeezed round after round into his back. His growls +mixed with the sound of shells hitting the floor. Soon, the +murderer was a pile of ruined meat. + + + +He turned around and looked at me with eyes dark as dry blood. I +knew my gun could not stop him. I dove to grab the murderer's +knife. I knew what I had to do. The old man dove to grab my +throat. + + + +No one had ever solved that crime. I told the Chief of Police that +I found two more victims in an old warehouse, but couldn't +handle working the case any longer. The murders continued. Every +month, a new homeless man was found cut open, with his heart carved +out. The police knew it was all done with the same knife, but no +one knew who was doing it. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Gestalt Pie} + + + +cruft posted: +I'll also make a thread about putting it all together, +in case other goons want to bind their own +books. + + + + +Please, please link to your thread. This sounds fantastic. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{The Bananana} + + +Want to quickly apologize for not being well aquainted with the +source material, and for any grammer errors, but this is pretty +last minute, also, please consider my entry even though it is a +little late. + + + +{\bf Deja Vu} + + + +Luke awoke in a bed. He stared at the ceiling and searched his mind +for his surroundings. He couldn't remember a thing. His head +ached, pounded as he struggled to sit up. He was in a clean white +room. + +There was a noise. Familiar. Welcome. + +Beneath the door drifted the smell of home. Of warm bread. Of eggs. +The sounds and clatter of morning seeped through as well. He swung +his legs over the side of the bed. His head was still aching, but +it was lessening. + +He stood. + +The sun's beams had warmed the floor. He stretched, lost his +balance, and feel back to the bed. He lay there, lying in the +light, when he began to listen. + +A voice, He recognized it. Then another. He knew them both. + +No, he thought, he must be dreaming. + +He got up and turned towards the door. Behind him, through the +windows, the trees began dancing lightly in a sudden fresh +breeze. + +He inched to the door, and reached for the knob, and recoiled in +pain, as the hot door burned his hand. + +``What are you doing'' asked a young boy from the corner +of the room, surprising Luke. + +He was small. Pale. He looked unwell. + +``Wha{\ldots}who are you''? Luke said, studying the +stranger. + +``That wasn't part of the deal'' the boy +replied. + +Deal? Luke didn't know what the kid was talking about. + +``Don't open the door'' the boy warned. + +Luke knew what was on the other side. His family. His wife. His +son. Sitting, waiting. Her red locks swaying and bouncing as she +prepared their breakfast. His boy, sitting at the table, his feet +dangling from the chair, smiling and laughing. + +The young boy persisted. + +Don't open the door.'' He said again. + +The room grew dark. + +Luke looked outside, and watched as the trees now shook and swayed +violently amidst an angry grass sea, heaving beneath the dark sky, +as rain began to pelt the glass. + +``What are you doing here? Who are you?'' Luke tried +again. + +``You're not listening.'' the boy's eyes +narrowed and he continued, + +``Enjoy it. Lay down this time. Stay and enjoy +it.'' + + + +The kid must have been sick. He wasn't making any +sense. + +``I've got a son about your age, he's right in +there'' Luke said pointing to the door. + +``Do you have any friends? I'm sure my boy will play +with you. Do you like pancakes? My wife, she makes the best +pancakes.'' + +``Luke'', the boy cut him off, ``Your son and wife +are dead. They've been dead, since the fire. You know the +deal. Stay here. Enjoy it.'' + +``What do you know about my wife and son? What do you mean +they're dead.'' He stared at the child + +``Boy, I know your sick but you can't talk like that, +it's not right. Listen, listen to them, can't you hear +them, they're in there right now, look I'll show +you'' Luke turned to the door. + +``Please Luke,'' The boys face was unchanged, his voice +placid but firm and sure. ``Don't open the +do{\ldots}'' + +``Hey!'' Luke interrupted, ``now I don't know +what in the hell you're going on about, but it ends right +now. Get out of here you sick freak, get out''! And the boy +was gone. + +Luke rubbed his eyes. Had the boy really just vanished? As he +wondered what had just happened, he noticed that his head +didn't hurt any more. Outside the air was now enraged, +thrashing about flinging rain and debris everywhere. It made Luke +more even more uneasy, but he remembered the door, and he shook the +feeling off. He reached once again for the knob, as the roar filled +his ears. + +And he grasped the knob and suddenly it was deafeningly quiet. He +turned and looked back outside. It was bright, very bright out, and +the trees and sky were calm. The door was cool to the touch, and +Luke pulled open the door, eager to see his family. + +Black. Charred wood. Everything, all of it, consumed. HE steeped +through the crumbling doorway. The burnt skeleton of walls now +surrounded all the ash and rubble that was once his home. Outside, +surrounding the house were hundreds of people, just starring. Near +the pipes where the sink had been, lay the dark remains of a woman +clutching a child. + +He couldn't breathe, he couldn't swallow. Grief and +sorrow were throttling him, and suddenly he let loose in heaving +spasms as he ran to his family. He knelt, sobbing, over what was +left of them. + +``No'' he uttered + +The crowd erupted in a bellowing barrage of whispers + +``You did this'' + +``This is your fault'' + +``They came for you'' + +``Why did you let them die?'' + +``They came for you'' + +``No{\ldots}NO!'' Luke screamed, ``I couldn't +stop them{\ldots}'' + +``I tried to save them'', he continued. + +Amidst the churning crowd suddenly stood the boy again. + +``I asked you not to open the door this time. I asked you to +stay on the other side.'' + +``I{\ldots}I tried to save them'' Luke sputtered +out + +``No'' reasoned the boy, ``no, you damned them. You +dug too deep into our affairs; you stuck your nose in our business. +It was you that did this to your wife. To your son. You are +responsible.'' + +``I tried{\ldots}I came home{\ldots}the flames, they were +everywhere'' Luke carried on, distantly. + +``There's more.'' Said the boy, +``there's more for you'' + +``No, it doesn't matter now'', Luke said sitting +up, looking at the boy + +His hollowed eyes and emotionless gaze should have terrified +Luke. + +``You can't do anything to me now{\ldots}just kill me. +Kill me'' + +The boy's brows furrowed, his face twisted, pulled and broke. +He smiled, and then began to laugh. + +``Kill you?'' He said regaining his composure, +``Why? Why would I kill you? No. We have something much worse +for you.'' And the crowd's accusing chants began to +bleed through the boy's speech. They screamed now. Angry, +haunting, they pierced through Luke's hands as he covered his +ears. + +``No, NOO!'' he screamed as he began to beat his head +against the rubble. But it did nothing to lessen the shrieking +crowd. He had to end it. He saw the pipe, sticking out of the +foundation. Its jagged end would easily drive through his +head. + +He stood, the cries and screams still pursuing and punishing him. +He took a breath and slammed his head down. + + + +Luke awoke in a bed. He stared at the ceiling and searched his mind +for his surroundings. He couldn't remember a thing. His head +ached, pounded as he struggled to sit up. He was in a clean white +room. + +There was a noise. Familiar. Welcome. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{and Into} + + +Kind of a long one{\ldots} + + + +{\bf The Truly Horrid Reflection} + + + +The shadows trickled through the alley like the breath of an aging, +slightly obese hard-boiled cop in the middle of extending an +over-wrought metaphor. But even in the face of a dark alley opening +up like the maw of blackest Death itself, I wasn't afraid--I +have a Beretta, and I have the name Bavarious. Luke Bavarious, +NYPD. + + + +My partner Rogue was busy working a tough murder case. Rogue was +chosen as part of a task force to catch the Bronx Butcher, a serial +killer with a hobby of hunting and taunting his would-be pursuers. +Some men have all the luck. I've been put on the toughest +beat of all: noise complaints. + + + +There are noises out there--a car door slammed, an alarm in the +night, a clown horn comically honked too loud--noises that wait in +the shadows, only to surprise and rape the sweet ears of the +innocent citizens of New York. But not if Bavarious has anything to +say about it. Luke Bavarious. + + + +The alley off 42nd street is home to many things. And apparently +some of them make noise, because I've been called to +investigate. Staying just inside the cold cloak of the shadows I +edge down the alley. I saw a figure perched on a dumpster, his back +to me. He was sobbing and crying. + + + +It's for nights like this I joined the force. + + + +``New York Ordinances state that excessive noise is punishable +by fines not exceeding one hundred dollars for the first +offense,'' I said, smirking. ``But I bet that +you're a repeat offender, huh? You should have picked just +one: sobbing OR crying. But you've just gotta be a loud son +of a bitch and do both, don't ya? Well, I guess you just +weren't planning on the icy justice of Bavarious--Luke +Bavarious--were you? Now turn around.'' + + + +I raised my loaded Beretta, cocked it, and pointed it directly at +the figure's back, as per the NYPD protocols for how to +handle the grief-stricken. + + + +``I said, `Turn around,''' I repeated, more +loudly and even more smirkingly. But still at a reasonable decibel +level, so as not to disturb the peace. The peace I've been +hired to protect. + + + +``Excuse me, sir,'' the crying figure said between, +frankly, unnecessarily loud sobs. ``But you don't want +me to turn around{\ldots}.'' + + + +``Sure I do. I have a loaded, sleek, cocked Beretta pointed at +your back, so you better turn around,'' I said. I went ahead +and cocked the Beretta again, just for the effect, and because I +goddamn love me a good Beretta-cocking. + + + +``Okay, you asked for it,'' the thing mumbled, +uncharacteristically low in volume. + + + +From the gutter above, water-trickles breezed through the alley as +it turned toward me, and began slowly inching into the light. + + + +First its combat boots emerged from the darkness. Then its knee. +Then its leg. Then its pelvis and hips. Then its chest actually +seemed to emerge slightly before its stomach, oddly, but its +shoulders came out next, just as one would anatomically expect. +Then its neck (it is kind of limboing now, for some reason). +Finally, its head came into clarity in the dim light. + + + +If you could call it a head. His face was horrid. There was a +superfluity of purple scars. There was blood trickling from an +empty eye socket and his sole ear was ugly. There was no nose. +There were no lips. There were bruises and lumps all over the +cheeks. There was only thin stubble for eyebrows. Although there +was a well groomed and handsome mustache, this could not make up +for the fact that there were deep gashes and uneven scar tissue +across the forehead, the chin, the mandible{\ldots} + + + +I really could go on, but the point is, he is an ugly motherfucker, +like burn-ward ugly, and the still-sobbing thing stared at me for +quite some time while I noted, like an obsessive cartographer, +every curve and contour of its face. In {\em excruciating} detail. +The thing's neck was a bit small in circumcrence compared to +its body, too, by the way. About 17% too small. + + + +My exhaustive cataloguing of the ugly bastard complete, I finally +took a step back, in narratively delayed astonishment. I had to +grit my teeth to keep the vomit down. Damn bourbon and peyote +cocktails. + + + +He took three more steps forward. ``I told ya,'' it +said. + + + +If there's one thing Luke Bavarious hates more than loudness, +it is people or things that rub it in your face when they are +right. I shot the sad, monstrous I-told-ya-so in the jaw a few +times, adding more holes to the disfigured jerk. The bullets hit +the face terribly powerful. The gunshots rang out, more audible +than I would have preferred--but it is a necessary evil. Lifeless, +the beastly thing slunk anticlimactically to the asphalt. + + + +But at his side some object fell--what is this--Strunk and +White's {\em Elements of Style}? Its pages unfurl, revealing +a check, signed ``Luke Bavarious, NYPD.'' + + + +I now recognize at my feet the broken body of the copy editor I had +hired to read over a draft of my memoir, the man who had +disappeared after receiving my papers and my first payment, the man +I thought had conned me and run off. I see him and what I have done +to him, what every mixed metaphor, switched tense, and redundant +adjective had driven him to become, what it drove him to do to +himself. + + + +I tasted my tears and vomit mix into a martini of misery. I saw a +horrid reflection. Suddenly, I was sobbing. And crying. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{BenBiddick} + + +thanks to everyone who put in an entry! this has been a mindblowing +event and I will be reading through each entry. I want to give each +one the time it deserves so bear with me! + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{katiekawaii} + + + +BenBiddick posted: +thanks to everyone who put in an entry! this has been a +mindblowing event and I will be reading through each entry. I want +to give each one the time it deserves so bear with +me! + + + + +Thank you for indulging us and having such an awesome sense of +humor! (People usually try to internet sue us in internet court.) +Your book has been one of our forum's greatest discoveries. We're +all seriously big fans of Ben Biddick and the emerging genre Horror +As Written By A 13-Year-Old. + + + +I can't wait to see the results! It's almost as tense as ``The +Horrid Reflection.'' + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{fishguzzler} + + +Waiting for someone to dig up the lost Biddick manuscript. + + + +Notice how the ``Horrors'' series focuses on the nasty things society +actually {\em encourages} young boys to contemplate? Most of the +violence, pus, and vomit themes could have been gleaned by a young +Biddick through culturally accepted, even lauded classics, such as +Battletoads in Battlemaniacs. + + + +But where are the other manuscripts, the ones too taboo for Biddick +to disclose to parents and school? The dark and fuzzy underbelly of +Puritanical culture may partially obscure the most revolting sexual +themes, yet can never eradicate them. Always there will be +sociopathic outlier pieces in the so-called ``artistic'' world, such +as the Victoria's Secret catalogue. + + + +All boys will eventually attempt to acquire such a thing, because +it is there - because it is forbidden. When, through audacity and +luck boys succeed in such ventures, they contemplate a sticky chasm +wherein lies only madness, to ultimately skirt its edge and become +men. + + + +In 1992 there was a book lacking the slick veneer of ``Horrors''. In +fact it was written in pencil on greasy and sweatstained wide-rule, +and tentatively titled ``Whorrors'' [sic]. Yet it too is a masterwork +of fiction, a self-exploration of the blasted landscape in the +developing psyche of a late-pubescent American Biddick. + + + +I call on Mr. Biddick to release this secret text, complete and +unedited. The gratuitous profusion of fluids {\em will be +glorious}. + + + +I call on you, Benjamin Suddenly-I-Was-Fisting Biddick, and I thank +you for all that you have already given us. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Paracetamol Boy} + + + +fishguzzler posted: +Waiting for someone to dig up the lost Biddick +manuscript. + + + +Notice how the ``Horrors'' series focuses on the nasty things society +actually {\em encourages} young boys to contemplate? Most of the +violence, pus, and vomit themes could have been gleaned by a young +Biddick through culturally accepted, even lauded classics, such as +Battletoads in Battlemaniacs. + + + +But where are the other manuscripts, the ones too taboo for Biddick +to disclose to parents and school? The dark and fuzzy underbelly of +Puritanical culture may partially obscure the most revolting sexual +themes, yet can never eradicate them. Always there will be +sociopathic outlier pieces in the so-called ``artistic'' world, such +as the Victoria's Secret catalogue. + + + +All boys will eventually attempt to acquire such a thing, because +it is there - because it is forbidden. When, through audacity and +luck boys succeed in such ventures, they contemplate a sticky chasm +wherein lies only madness, to ultimately skirt its edge and become +men. + + + +In 1992 there was a book lacking the slick veneer of ``Horrors''. In +fact it was written in pencil on greasy and sweatstained wide-rule, +and tentatively titled ``Whorrors'' [sic]. Yet it too is a masterwork +of fiction, a self-exploration of the blasted landscape in the +developing psyche of a late-pubescent American Biddick. + + + +I call on Mr. Biddick to release this secret text, complete and +unedited. The gratuitous profusion of fluids {\em will be +glorious}. + + + +I call on you, Benjamin Suddenly-I-Was-Fisting Biddick, and I thank +you for all that you have already given us. + + + + +I'm sorry but the only fluids that will be profusing from me +gratuitously will be tears. + + + + + + + + + + + +{\ldots}of laughter + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{JuicedSixFo} + + +Aw fuck I posted my story in the thread and left, +didn't see the contest thread. These submissions are awesome. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Syphilicious!} + + +Gotta keep this thread alive, people! + + + +I was surprised at the turnout for stories, but how many people +that contributed come from CC or actually have previous writing +experience? I'd imagine most people are like me and just are +interested in writing or wanted to contribute to the humor of it +all or perhaps just get the prizes. + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{Baron von Eevl} + + +So I know the contest is over, but I already have an autographed copy of Horrors so +I'm not really interested in winning. I just had a brainstorm a few +hours ago and felt I needed to contribute. + + + +This is a prequel of sorts to The Horrid Reflection, entitled The +Horrid Realization. In it, we learn how Luke Bavarious left his +post as New York's finest and struck off on his own as a Private +Detective. We also learn about lost friendship straight from +God. + + + +{\bf The Horrid Realization} + + + +I stepped from the glare of traffic. The time had come again. I was +in the police station on 42nd street in New York. My hand shook +slightly with the bic pen I held in my hand. The matte white pen +had leaked in my pocket. Another shirt ruined. I am a desk jockey. +My name is Detective Luke Bavarious. I dislike this work. + +People had been complaining about a drunken officer in their +neighborhood on his beat. I was transferred off the streets because +of these disturbances. + +I edged into the Sergeant's office. I saw the tall, handsome figure +of the man I once respected sitting in his chair, facing towards +me. He was sighing. I raised my finger and slurred a series of +vulgar insults at the sitting figure. + +``Bavarious, you drunken fool.'' The captain bellowed. + +``Turn around!'' I shouted. + +``Beggin' your pardon, Detective,'' he said, ``I'm already facing you. +If I turn around I would be facing a wall.'' + +``Sure I do. I'm a better cop than you could ever be, McClenaghan'' I +replied. + +``Okay, that didn't even make sense,'' the sarge mumbled as he began +to turn red. + +Fabian McClenaghan was my Sergeant. He and I joined the academy +together years ago and quickly became friends. He and I would share +all our secrets together at the shooting range and promised when we +died we'd be buried together there with our trusty barettas, shiny +sleek and deadly. + +``Give me your badge, Bavarious.'' + +I inched forward and began to sweat all over. My ductile muscles +clenched and began to shiver. First my feet, deep in non-uniform +combat boots. Then my legs. Then my chest. Then my head. If you +call it a head. My head was so clouded with liquor I could barely +think. Was that what you called it? A head? It's that thing on top +of your neck. The one with all the holes. + +I took a step back in astonishment. I gritted my teeth to keep the +vomit down. + +McClenaghan stared at me with unbridled hate and shame. Ashamed of +hate. + +``You look like you're going to be sick, Bavarious'' he grumbled, +concerned. ``Do you need me to grab my trashcan for you to throw up +in?'' + +``Hey buddy!'' I screamed. ``I don't need no trashcan from the likes +of you!'' I then vomited. The horrid cocktail of blood and last +night's spaghetti dinner came up and spilled all over the +Sergeant's floor, looking like some alien had died and it's guts +were spilled all over the floor of the Sergeant's office on the +floor. + +``I told ya,'' he said. + +I screamed and began to run away from him. He waved his hand high +in the air and screamed after me. + +``Bavarious, give me your gun and your badge, you drunken fool!'' He +screamed. + +``McClenaghaaaaaan!'' I screamed right back at him. + +It was too late. I was running through an endless maze of cublicles +each as similar as the last. I ran faster. As I ran, I vomitted a +horrid smelling liquid of putrefaction all over my pen-ruined +shirt. Pen and vomit ruined. And spaghetti sauce. As I ran, others +began to run too, running from the awful weird vomit. The first +person ran faster than the second. The second person ran faster +than the third. The third person was not running very fast because +she was a woman and I'm not comfortable describing her further. The +second person slipped in the vomit and the first person easily +outpaced him. The third person was elsewhere at that point. Maybe +vomiting. + +Being drunk, I began to see horribly awful images. A spider. A +person who is also part spider. A butcher's knife. A young boy, to +be respected and listened to, lit from below and looking very much +serious and respected. These were the typical hallucinations I had +when drunk, which causes horrible hallucinations. + +My head smashed into the door terribly powerful. Muscles were +strained and torn as my head jerked to the side, smearing the +glass. I fell and landed on the hard linoleum flooring. Dazed I +vomited again and again. I felt the surge pushing back +rhythmically. I ran outside but continued to vomit. Spaghetti +hitting the pavement. Splatter hitting my shirt. Blood showering +me. I felt my own blood from the side of my mouth fall and drip. I +kept vomiting. My stomach was empty. I staggered. I tasted my +dinner and blood mixed into a horrid cocktail. It tasted like +vomit. My badge sparkled on the side of my waistband. +Bavarious. + +I picked myself up and stumbled over to a mirror. Suddenly, I was +in my apartment. Suddenly, I was sobbing. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{MariusMcG} + + + +Quovak posted: +I also love this idea. It would be even better if we +could actually get the final anthology vanity published, but not +spending a lot of money also works. Discount Bees needs to do cover +art, though. + + + + +Let it be titled {\em The Chronicles of Biddick}. + + + + + +%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% +\by{HastyDeparture} + + + +MariusMcG posted: +Let it be titled {\em The Chronicles of +Biddick}. + +Seconding this motion. + + + + diff --git a/sa2ltx.py b/sa2ltx.py index 55b4e15..b829196 100755 --- a/sa2ltx.py +++ b/sa2ltx.py @@ -1,7 +1,6 @@ -#! /usr/bin/python3 +#! /usr/bin/env python3 import optparse -import xml.dom.minidom import xml.etree.ElementTree import re @@ -59,16 +58,16 @@ def main(): f = open(a, encoding='iso-8859-1') parser = xml.etree.ElementTree.XMLTreeBuilder() parser.entity.update(nbsp=" ", - rsaquo=">", - lsquo="`", - rsquo="'", - ldquo="``", - rdquo="''", + lsaquo="<", rsaquo=">", + lsquo="`", rsquo="'", + ldquo="``", rdquo="''", hellip="{\\ldots}", ndash="---", mdash="---", iexcl="{\\!`}", copy="{\\copyright}", + eacute="\\'e", + ccedil="\\,c", ) doc = xml.etree.ElementTree.parse(f, parser) doc_to_ltx(doc)