mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
Artwork, better chapter titles, selections from Horrors
This commit is contained in:
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3
Makefile
3
Makefile
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SUPPORT = chapauth.sty
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STORIES = stories/*.tex
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horrors2.pdf: horrors2.ltx $(STORIES)
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horrors2.pdf: horrors2.ltx $(SUPPORT) $(STORIES)
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pdflatex $<
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pdflatex $<
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\def\chapauth#1{\gdef\@chapauth{#1}}
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\def\@chapauth{}
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\def\chapimg#1#2{\gdef\@chapartist{#1}\gdef\@chapimg{#2}}
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\gdef\@chapimg{}
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\gdef\@chapartist{\@empty}
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\def\@makechapterhead#1{%
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\ifx \@chapimg \@empty
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\vspace*{50\p@}%
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{\parindent \z@ \raggedright \normalfont
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\ifnum \c@secnumdepth >\m@ne
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\if@mainmatter
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\huge\bfseries \@chapapp\space \thechapter
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\par\nobreak
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\vskip 20\p@
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\fi
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\fi
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\interlinepenalty\@M
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\Huge \bfseries #1\par\nobreak
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\ifx\@chapauth\@empty
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% Nothing
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\else
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\vskip 10\p@
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\Large \bfseries by \@chapauth\par\nobreak
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\fi
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\vskip 40\p@
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}
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\else
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\thispagestyle{empty}
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\hbox{}\vfill
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\@chapimg\par\nobreak
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\hfill\small Artwork by \@chapartist\par\nobreak
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\vfill\hbox{}
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\fi
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\chapauth{}
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\chapimg{}{}
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}
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16
horrors2.ltx
16
horrors2.ltx
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\documentclass[draft,10pt]{book}
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\documentclass[10pt]{book}
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\usepackage[papersize={397pt,614pt}]{geometry}
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\usepackage[T1]{fontenc}
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@ -7,6 +7,7 @@
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\usepackage[pdftex]{graphicx}
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\usepackage{hyperref}
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\usepackage[labelformat=empty]{caption}
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\usepackage{chapauth}
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\title{Horrors 2: Clever Title Here}
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\author{The Something Awful Forums}
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@ -18,15 +19,6 @@
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mos-qui-toes
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}
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% For specifying author
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\newcommand{\by}[1]{
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\vspace{-20pt}
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\begin{flushleft}
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{\large by #1}
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\end{flushleft}
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\vspace{30pt}
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}
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\begin{document}
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\maketitle
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@ -105,6 +97,10 @@ and/or blood. Stay strong, pukers.
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\newpage
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\pagenumbering{arabic}
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\part{Selections from {\em Horrors}}
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\include{stories/BenBiddick.The_Horrid}
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\include{stories/BenBiddick.The_Barn}
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\part{Bavarious Reasons}
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\include{stories/Batmanuel.The_Strang}
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\include{stories/Torgo_.Brian}
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@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
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\chapauth{A Child's Letter}
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\chapter{Yellow Eyes}
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\by{A Child's Letter}
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\chapauth{Akbar}
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\chapter{Wicked Workout}
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\by{Akbar}
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@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
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\chapauth{Anal Surgery}
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\chapter[Satanic Red]{Satanic Red: The Third to Last Case of Detective Luke Bavarious}
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\by{Anal Surgery}
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\chapauth{Assless Chaps}
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\chapter{The Mosquito of Death}
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\by{Assless Chaps}
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\chapauth{Barometer}
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\chapter[L.B.; V.H.E.]{L.B.; V.H.E. (the extended directors cut, with deleted scenes)}
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\by{Barometer}
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Luke sat in the dimly lighted corner of an underused and
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\chapauth{Baron von Eevl}
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\chapter{The Horrid Realization}
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\by{Baron von Eevl}
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\chapauth{Batmanuel}
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\chapter{The Stranger. Bavarious.}
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\by{Batmanuel}
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@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
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\chapauth{BatsBjorg}
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\chapter{The Horrid Beginning of It All}
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\by{BatsBjorg}
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Eleven-year-old Luke Bavarious stood frozen in the doorway to his
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\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
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\chapter{Grandma}
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All she did was sit in that chair. She was my grandma. Grandma
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Packard. She was the old hag of her town. Everyone hated her and
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everyone was hated by her. She never left her house and I guess she
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never left that damn chair. I was fifteen when it happened and I hadn't
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seen her out of that old rocking chair my entire life. The chair was old
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and rickedy and creaked when it rocked. I'd think that the creaking of
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that chair would drive her insane! She hated me dearly. She never showed
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any love or affection to me, but to all the other children she did. That
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was the reason I hated her so much. She never had time for me. All she
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could do was drool and sit in the rocking chair. Yes, I hated her. Right
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to my soul. I had such an incapacity for her. I hated her at a higher
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level every time I saw her. It just kept rising. She was at least ninety
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something. I really didn't care to know anything about her. She shared
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her love with no one but her grandchildren---with me the exception.
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I was glad when she died. She never left that chair---she even died in
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it. It was pitiful. Her weak heart had finally given up.
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We inherited the house, and we had to make major repairs and we had to
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have major cleaning sprees, but I could finally be free of her evil
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sneer that shook me with uncontrollable fear. How I hated her.
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I had to have that room. Not by choice believe me. The room she had
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rocked her heart to death in. I quivered at the thought of living in it,
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but I had to since my little sister and brother were afraid of it.
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It was the first night to sleep in it: the room. I had my covers totally
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concealing my body---a habit I had developed in my days as a toddler. The
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moon was unusually bright and the light showed through the thin blanket
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because I had placed my bed by the window. I soon fell asleep.
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I opened my eyes. I thought I heard footsteps in my room. Was it mother?
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I saw the shape of a woman pass through the moonlight interrupting the
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flow onto my blanket. Sweat broke out from my back and fear swelled
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inside my stomach. I wanted to scream for help, but I was too terrified.
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``Eddie Packard, why did you hate me?'' asked a woman's voice in a
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taunting tone.
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I was too horrified to answer. I heard a thud that sounded like the
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woman was placing something on the floor. I gritted my teeth with total,
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terrible anxiety.
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``I know you're under there, Eddie,'' the voice crackled.
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I could not move. My heart beat so loud the woman must have heard it.
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From right next to the bed, I heard the familiar creaking of Granny
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Packard's rocking chair. She was going to drive me insane.
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\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
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\chapter{Human Existence}
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Rogue Davix looked at his arm. Just above the wrist, three large, scabby
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lumps bulged. They moved in and out, like they were being inflated and
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deflated again and again. The first lump increased the rhythm as each
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other lump formed. The first lump was going faster than the second lump,
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and the second lump was going faster than the third lump and so on. The
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flesh around the three lumps was cracked, flaky, and dry. Rogue squeezed
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his fist together in pain and wiggled at the burning pain. He squinted
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at the four men in lab coats. Why were they doing this? The four men had
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each given Rogue a shot and that was when these lumps had sprung
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up. Were they mad scientists? What the hell were they doing?
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``Stop this!'' Rogue screamed. ``Villains!''
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Purple liquid suddenly spurted from a tiny hole forming in the first
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lump. Three drops came out and dripped down the minute cascade. Yellow
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liquid suddenly erupted from the cracks in the flesh around the sores
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and spurted upward about a foot. One of the men in lab coats quickly put
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a beaker on the arm and collected some of the fluid. He took the sample
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to a small machine and poured it into an aperture where green light
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flowed from its opening. The scanner on the front lit up in strange
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markings that Rogue couldn't read. The four men watched it carefully and
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sighed at what they saw. One or two of them looked over at Davix and
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startled him as the expression cut through his pain straight to his
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soul.
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Suddenly, two more lumps began to be born. They pushed their way up and
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Rogue screamed in even more agony. After those, three more lumps began
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to push. They sprung up and the first two lumps exploded, throwing flesh
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and blood everywhere. A chain reaction happened and the lumps increased
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in creation. The lumps covered Rogue at an alarming rate. They exploded
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one of at a time. Rogue squirmed at the pain.
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One of the men in lab coats ran to a control panel and pressed a
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button. A transparent screen lowered in front and around Rogue. Blood
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and a variety of colors of liquid hit the screen and dripped down. Rogue
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stopped squirming and had uncontrollable tremors. His tongue stuck out
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and his teeth clapped down on it. The tongue bounced off Rogue's body
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and fell to the floor. His fingernails pushed their way back into his
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skin, squirting blood in spatters. Yellow liquid squirted a foot into
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the air from the dry skin around the exploding scabs. Rogue soon died.
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The men in lab coats all sat down and looked at the lump of flesh
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strapped in the chair. They sighed in disgust and one of them cried.
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``The destruction of planet Earth's environment and ozone is
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terrible. This species called human cannot live on our planet, the tests
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we have given show that. They will no longer exist. There is nothing to
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be done.''
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\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
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\chapter{I Venture Down the Path}
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Militant. That is what I was, militant. Or was I insane? Inhuman?
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Demonic? I was created by militancy. Created with the emotions of hate
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and anger. Born with the desire to kill. Muscular cular and
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wild. Intelligent and lethal. Born and created with the love of
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suffering. The lust for dangerous highs. Fueled by the rushes of
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hate. Non-narcotic but just as addictive. The passion of no
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compassion. Murder at will with the utmost impunity.
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Impunity succeeds with the victim unwanted or uncared for. For instance,
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taking the life of a drifter, or homeless person. My prey was of that
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type which would succumb to me.
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My shadowy facial and bodily features were exposed to the filtered
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light. A streetlight's glow was seen through the many halls and
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passageways of the certain domains of the different entities of this
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cruel world. My victim was approaching.
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Some old, drunken man was walking down the alley. He was singing the old
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folk song, ``I Venture Down the Path.''
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I held the sides of my apparel so that the wind of the night could not
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flutter it. I stepped forward. My ductile muscles bulged with the
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anticipation of the rush. My teeth were observable as a smile presented
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itself upon my lips.
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The reeking man walked into me, for his drinking had impaired his
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vision. He stopped in the middle of his wretched song as he cursed me
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for being in his way. Hatred arose from my demonic soul as the man
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proceeded with his vulgar and insulting language.
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``I'm quite sorry,'' I snarled to the drunk.
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``You b-better b-be,'' he belched, releasing his foul breath.
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``Friend, it is you that I am sorry for,'' I bellowed.
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His expression was inquiry as I began to beat the poor fellow. He
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staggered and fell as I brutally struck him. My heart was alive with the
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beautiful feeling of hate and love; the love of hate.
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I stood up. The deed was done. I sucked in the night air and felt it
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flow through my body. The rush slowed as I wiped the blood from my
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knuckles. I began down the alley, the tune of ``I Venture Down the Path''
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whistling from my lips\ldots
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\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
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\chapter{Impatience and Curiosity}
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They said I was discontent with life. I forgive them though. Looking
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back on my life's ending, I weep. Everything wasted. How could they know
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why? They thought I was happy with life. They thought I loved every
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single one of them. They thought I was satisfied, they thought.
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The death of my body was self-imposed. I loaded a pistol, and put it to
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my head. Without any hesitation or fear, I pulled the trigger. My soul
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then retreated from my physical into into a terrible world of nothing.
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I do not know why I committed the act. My life was stable financially. I
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was soon to be married to the beautiful maiden, Annabel Lee. We never
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quarreled, so the cause of my death wasn't inspired by heartbreak. There
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was no forethought or common sense involved. Curiosity. Is curiosity
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with the after-death world an excuse? Curiosity wasn't the entire reason
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for my self-imposed death. It was also impatience. I couldn't find
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anything exciting. My assets had enabled me to travel. I had a nice
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house. Enough money for all the financial things. I had plenty of
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friends. Ones that cared for me, not only my money. I had my soon-to-be
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wife. I had my family. I'd run out of imagination to create goals and
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achievements. My brain then came across the thought of my only frontier:
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death. Would you call me insane.
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Now I just float here, in the darkness of purgatory, not doing
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anything. For what is there to do? I have long given up trying to get
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out. It is eternal punishment for taking away the most important thing
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God gave humans. I only with I could die again\ldots
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The Artist
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The satisfied young child sat on his favorite chair with his pens and
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pencils. He squinted at the pain in his punched-in black eye. He shook
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it off and began to draw. The boy was the age of a third-grader. The
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silhouette of a man fell to the paper from the magic of his artistic
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hand. His expression was dim and solemn. Happy at being dim and
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solemn. His appearance was dim and shadowy. His hair matched his
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apparel: black. The color of night.
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The boy was talented. He could draw with the ability of a veteran. He
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had drawn since the first time his hand, equipped with pencil, scratched
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on the piece of clear, lineless paper. There were endless things to make
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with paper and pencil. Anything. He had progressed in his ability with
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every drawing he drew. Most sketches were of lonely, sad, grotesque, or
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terrible scenes.
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The figure on the paper was now fully drawn. It was a shadowy and dark
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figure. His long robe fluttered against him. He had a tail. The tail was
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a lashing terror and pain deliverer. The figure had an expression that
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cut right through you, right through you to your soul. The creature of a
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man held a head. It was bleeding and had the expression of fear, frozen
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there eternally with the instance of death. Now the boy had to draw the
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exact details of his bullying tormentor and the house in which his
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tormentor lived and the bully would be as good as dead.
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James McDaniels sat at home on the couch. His father lay there on his
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recliner, drinking a beer. He was drunk four Coors ago, but kept
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drinking. He always did. James stood and went out the door. He picked up
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a rock and threw it. He had to blow off some steam. His father's steam,
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which had been given to James with the drinking of each beer his father
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drank. A young kid walking up the road passed the house.
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``C'mere kid,'' James smirked.
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The boy reluctantly started to run. James ran to him and quickly caught
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him. James hit the boy as soon as the victim was in punching
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distance. James hit the boy just like the other three he had blown off
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steam with. After James was done, he let the boy up. Blood was running
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from the victim's nose and mouth. He got up and ran as fast as he could
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this time. James smiled. Soon enough though, James' happiness turned to
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sadness- his father was swearing at Jame's mother. He sat on the grass
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and began to cry.
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Just then, the door slammed behind him. James began to turn around. He
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hoped to God that it wasn't his father. He hoped it was his mother so
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they could run away from their father's publicly known case of
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alcoholism. It wasn't his mother. It wasn't his father. It was a large
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dark, shadowy man with a tail and a terrible expression. James
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stood. The man smiled smugly.
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James garbled, ``Who are y-you?''
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The weird man's tail answered the question for him. It flung at James
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with the speed of a lightning bolt. It struck James's face with the
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force of a semi hitting him at the speed of fifty-five miles an
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hour. James's head was completely torn off his neck. Blood showered the
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front of the house and the newly cut lawn. His headless body was thrown
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to the ground. Blood spewed from the neck as the torn blood vessels
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vomited their liquid.
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``Compliments of The Artist,'' the figure said as it walked away.
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\chapimg{Discount\_Bees}{\includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/Discount_Bees-The_Barn.jpg}}
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\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
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\chapter{The Barn}
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The barn had stood for one hundred years and had been abandoned since
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the horrid tragedy that had happened there ninety-nine years ago.
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Jonathan Edwards leaned the pitchfork against the hay and wiped the
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sweat from his brow. The summer of 1891. Jonathan was a hard working
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farmer of rural Wisconsin and had been all of his life. He liked to
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work. His doctors had told him to watch the work because of his heart,
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but Jonathan ignored the warning and just kept on with the farmer's
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terribly hard work.
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Jonathan worked his way up to the hay mow and sat down when he reached
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the top. Movement caught his eye and by reflex his neck turned. It was
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Jonathan's son, Billy.
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``Hi, Daddy,'' Billy smiled.
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``Hi there, Squirt, wanna help me?''
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``Ya,'' Billy said with an enthusiastic smile.
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Billy was five and his dad was his biggest hero.
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The young boy walked to the specially made staircase that his father had
|
||||
made for him and began to walk up. Jonathan put a hand out to assist
|
||||
Billy but was suddenly overtaken by chest pain. A heart attack had a
|
||||
hold of Jonathan. Billy's smile quickly turned to a frown as he heard
|
||||
his father's shoulder snap and crack with the impact on the rim and
|
||||
ledge of the mow and staircase. Billy's neck exploded with blood vessels
|
||||
popping out.as he screamed for his father. In a matter of seconds,
|
||||
Billy's dad would be killed as he fell on the upturned pitchfork.
|
||||
|
||||
``Dad!'' Billy screamed again.
|
||||
|
||||
This couldn't be happening. Jonathan twisted in the air as he fell,
|
||||
falling with his back to the ground.
|
||||
|
||||
``Son,'' he choked in the air.
|
||||
|
||||
His arm was outstretched as if to block the sight that would take away
|
||||
Billy's innocence.
|
||||
|
||||
Jonathan landed on the pitchfork with a terrible force and made a
|
||||
grotesque sound that would make his son puke. Four small rusted spikes
|
||||
tore up through Jonathan's chest. Jonathan's overalls began to turn rust
|
||||
with the presence of gushing blood. Jonathan's arms moved back and forth
|
||||
as he was suspended a pitchfork's height off the ground, making it sway
|
||||
forward. Jonathan's feet hit the ground at a diagonal angle but had no
|
||||
muscle in them---there was too much pain. Jonathan felt his buttocks hit
|
||||
the floor next, shifting the pitchfork inside of him to tear more organs
|
||||
and tissue. It made a terrible sound that resembled a burp. Jonathan
|
||||
arched his neck to look at his boy and opened his mouth as to say
|
||||
something. His larynx was interrupted from making any vibrations as a
|
||||
waterfall of blood lifted through it and out Jonathan's mouth.
|
||||
|
||||
Billy felt his stomach tighten and push. Putrid smelling vomit emitted
|
||||
from the boy's mouth and nose into the air toward the wriggling man on
|
||||
the ground below. It splattered on the chest of the dying man and mixed
|
||||
in with the blood with the stench of death.
|
||||
|
||||
Billy was later found insane. Two months later, he was found hanging.
|
||||
|
||||
\begin{figure}[b]
|
||||
\includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/necroid-putrid_smelling_vomit.jpg}
|
||||
\caption{{\em Putrid smelling vomit emitted\ldots} by necroid}
|
||||
\end{figure}
|
|
@ -0,0 +1,42 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
|
||||
\chapter{The Cough}
|
||||
|
||||
He was so sick. He had a terminal disease. He vomited tears from his
|
||||
eyes. He threw up over and over again. He was always sweating. Sweating
|
||||
to the point of dehydration and delirium. The doctor couldn't find out
|
||||
what was wrong. He just knew that my friend was going to die. Anyone
|
||||
could see that! The doctor was dismissed from trying to help. He could
|
||||
do about as much as I could.
|
||||
|
||||
I sat by my friend day and night. Crying and cursing right along with
|
||||
him. It was driving me insane. My friend was going to die and I could do
|
||||
nothing to stop it! His bed sheets were soaked with the odor and liquid
|
||||
of perspiration. He was rambling on, mumbling nonsense. What could I do?
|
||||
My brain! His body! He screamed with all of our agony.
|
||||
|
||||
I prayed constantly to God, First I prayed that my friend would
|
||||
heal. After no letup from this horrid sickness, I prayed that the Lord
|
||||
would take my friend's soul so that I could rest! You call me inhuman?!
|
||||
You can never understand. You did not see your best friend frothing and
|
||||
foaming, sweating unrelentlessly, going to the bathroom on himself and
|
||||
laying in it for days! That is what is inhuman, not me.
|
||||
|
||||
The idea finally sprang into my mind. I laugh with the thought of some
|
||||
rest from this terrible nursing. I giggled with delirium myself! I would
|
||||
be rid of this forever! Yes, I would do it!
|
||||
|
||||
I grabbed a urine stained pillow from the floor and shoved it over the
|
||||
face of my friend. I first heard him choke and giggle, than in a few
|
||||
seconds that seemed centuries, his body tensed. He scratched at me. He
|
||||
tried to get the pillow away but he was too frail. Ha! He soon began to
|
||||
relax eternally.. Soon enough, the man was dead.
|
||||
|
||||
I took the pillow from my friend's face. He had no pulse. His chest
|
||||
showed no movement. He was dead. Suddenly, a wave of depression and
|
||||
sadness drenched my body. I cradled my friend's sweat-soaked head and
|
||||
began to cry. He was so cold and so gone. He had died with his eyes
|
||||
open. I was too tired to close them.
|
||||
|
||||
I staggered out the door. I would finally be able to rest. Oh, Lord
|
||||
forgive me, I could rest. What was that? Something peculiar sounded from
|
||||
the room behind me. It was a dead man's cough\ldots
|
|
@ -0,0 +1,79 @@
|
|||
%\chapimg{art/Discount_Bees-The_Horrid.jpg}
|
||||
\chapimg{Discount\_Bees}{\includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/Discount_Bees-The_Horrid.jpg}}
|
||||
%\chapimg{Discount\_Bees}{Discount_Bees-The_Horrid.jpg}
|
||||
\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
|
||||
\chapter{The Horrid Reflection}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
I stepped from the shadow. The sound had come again. I was in the alley
|
||||
off 42nd Street in New York. My hand shook slightly with the loaded
|
||||
Beretta in my hand. The sleek pistol was loaded and cocked, ready to
|
||||
fire. I am a private detective. My name is Luke Bavarious. I like this
|
||||
work.
|
||||
|
||||
People had been complaining about weird noises coming from the alley for
|
||||
about a year now and we finally decided to see what was going on. I was
|
||||
assigned to stop these noises.
|
||||
|
||||
I edged into the dim light. I saw a dark figure sitting on a dumpster,
|
||||
facing away from me. He was sobbing and crying. I raised my Beretta and
|
||||
lined his quivering back up with my bead.
|
||||
|
||||
``You there! What are you doing?'' I shouted through the darkness.
|
||||
|
||||
``Turn around!'' I shouted again.
|
||||
|
||||
``Beggin' your pardon, but\ldots you don't want me to turn around,'' it
|
||||
said.
|
||||
|
||||
``Sure I do. I got a pistol pointed at your back so ya better,'' I
|
||||
replied.
|
||||
|
||||
``Okay, you asked for it,'' the thing mumbled as it began to turn around.
|
||||
|
||||
A breeze trickled through the alley as it turned and began to come
|
||||
toward me. I couldn't see him yet, he was shaded in the darkness.
|
||||
|
||||
``Step out of the dark.''
|
||||
|
||||
It inched forward. First its combat boots. Then its legs. Then its
|
||||
chest. Then its head. If you call it a head. His face was horrid. There
|
||||
was an abundance of purple scars. There was blood leaking from an empty
|
||||
eye socket and he only had one shriveled ear. There was no nose. There
|
||||
were no lips. Only holes.
|
||||
|
||||
I took a step back in astonishment. I gritted my teeth to keep the vomit
|
||||
down.
|
||||
|
||||
He took three more steps forward and I saw his tears glisten in the
|
||||
moonlight.
|
||||
|
||||
``I told ya,'' it said.
|
||||
|
||||
He screamed and began to run toward me. His stub of a hand was held high
|
||||
in the air and was ready to commence his brutality. I pulled the trigger
|
||||
on my Beretta. The recoil soothed my fear as I heard a shell hit the
|
||||
pavement and saw the lead make another eye socket in the thing's
|
||||
forehead. It kept coming with the assistance of his adrenaline. It had
|
||||
only been a split second before I squeezed off another round into its
|
||||
neck. The thing was inches away as I fired point blank into the thing's
|
||||
throat. Two shells hit the concrete.
|
||||
|
||||
His hand smashed my head 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 fired again and again into the thing's chest. I
|
||||
felt the recoil pushing back rhythmically. Shells hitting the
|
||||
pavement. Bullets hitting the monster. Blood showering me. I felt my own
|
||||
blood from the side of my head fall and drip. I kept firing. The
|
||||
magazine was empty. He staggered. I tasted my tears and blood mixed into
|
||||
a horrid cocktail. It fell down next to me. A badge sparkled on the side
|
||||
of his jacket. Bavarious.
|
||||
|
||||
I picked up a large piece of broken glass and saw a horrid
|
||||
reflection. Suddenly, I was sobbing.
|
||||
|
||||
\begin{figure}[b]
|
||||
\includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/necroid-his_hand_smashed.jpg}
|
||||
\caption{{\em His hand smashed my head terribly powerful} by necroid}
|
||||
\end{figure}
|
||||
|
|
@ -0,0 +1,47 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
|
||||
\chapter{Willy}
|
||||
|
||||
I sat on my chair and opened a can of beer. The TV was on and I was
|
||||
looking for a break from reality. It was 1953. I had just bought the TV
|
||||
and was adjusting to the adaptation of sight and sound together.
|
||||
|
||||
The Korean War was on in the Far East and a number of the younger
|
||||
generation of the town in which I lived had gone off to fight, including
|
||||
my grandson, Willy. I had fought in WWI, my son John had fought in WWII,
|
||||
and now Willy had gone off to fight in the Korean War. I prayed for
|
||||
Willy often, for I knew the ravages of war.
|
||||
|
||||
I soon had fallen asleep on the chair when a certain annoying sound came
|
||||
from the door. It was a certain scratching. A horridly fearful sound. I
|
||||
woke with a start and walked to the door. The scratching came again and
|
||||
then a moan. A terrible low moan, filled with anguish, pain, sadness,
|
||||
and fear. I took a step back. Another moan. It caused fear to waltz up
|
||||
and down my spine.
|
||||
|
||||
``Who's there?'' I shouted to the other side of the gate.
|
||||
|
||||
All there was was an attempt at the word: Grandpa.
|
||||
|
||||
``Willy?'' I asked the voice, and my sanity.
|
||||
|
||||
I swung the door open in anticipation. There was Willy, lying on the
|
||||
front steps. He was dressed in combat fatigues and had no left leg. His
|
||||
thigh was raw meat. Blood had turned the green pants into rust all the
|
||||
way across Willy's buttocks, top right leg, and lower back.
|
||||
|
||||
``Grand-nd-pa,'' Willy stuttered, ``I can't walk. What is wrong?''
|
||||
|
||||
The young man was bewildered to the point of delirium. I hugged the boy
|
||||
and cried. I shut my eyes to the agony and squeezed the young boy.
|
||||
|
||||
``Oh, Will,'' I shuttered.
|
||||
|
||||
I then opened my eyes and I was holding nothing. I rubbed my eyes, and
|
||||
retreated in shock and bewilderment. I went back into my house in a
|
||||
stupor and called John's house. All I could say when John lifted the
|
||||
phone was, ``Willy---''
|
||||
|
||||
``Grandpa,'' I heard accompanied with sobs and shrieks, ``Willy's dead. His
|
||||
left leg was blown off by a grenade and he bled to death.''
|
||||
|
||||
All I could do was hang up.
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{BigSkillet}
|
||||
\chapter{The Screw That Turned}
|
||||
\by{BigSkillet}
|
||||
|
||||
``{\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.
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Blurry Gray Thing}
|
||||
\chapter{Monstrous}
|
||||
\by{Blurry Gray Thing}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
In the shadows of our overcrowded cities lurk unspeakable horrors.
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{BoldFrankensteinMir}
|
||||
\chapter{Johnny the Knifer}
|
||||
\by{BoldFrankensteinMir}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Bonaventure}
|
||||
\chapter[Horrider Reflections]{The Horrid Reflection II: Horrider Reflections}
|
||||
\by{Bonaventure}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The screamers screamed past with a screaming scream that screamed
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Brolita}
|
||||
\chapter{Mac}
|
||||
\by{Brolita}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Brushingworth}
|
||||
\chapter{Chamber Pop}
|
||||
\by{Brushingworth}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{CannedMacabre}
|
||||
\chapter{For the Children}
|
||||
\by{CannedMacabre}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Norma's Diner is a horrible place to get a cup of joe. The only
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Cheesus Christ}
|
||||
\chapter{The Horrid Erection}
|
||||
\by{Cheesus Christ}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
I stepped into the stall. The urge had come again. I was in the 4th
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Combat Wombat}
|
||||
\chapter{The Library}
|
||||
\by{Combat Wombat}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Cota Froise}
|
||||
\chapter{The Horrid Reflection - Redux}
|
||||
\by{Cota Froise}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Count Snapula}
|
||||
\chapter[Dead Tired]{Dead Tired\\Horrid Reflection: Gaiden}
|
||||
\by{Count Snapula}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Creflo Chronicle}
|
||||
\chapter{Black River}
|
||||
\by{Creflo Chronicle}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
@ -40,7 +40,7 @@ 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
|
||||
The manbabies stopped as they reached his door. 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.
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Cruo}
|
||||
\chapter{The Smoker}
|
||||
\by{Cruo}
|
||||
|
||||
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
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Danger408}
|
||||
\chapter{The Torrid Connection}
|
||||
\by{Danger408}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Cleaning his Beretta for the third time that day, and taking a swig
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Decatur Fist}
|
||||
\chapter{The Last Night of Luke Bavarious}
|
||||
\by{Decatur Fist}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Detective Thompson}
|
||||
\chapter{Words Will Never Hurt Me{\ldots}}
|
||||
\by{Detective Thompson}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Dirty Sanchez}
|
||||
\chapter{A Tin of Popcorn}
|
||||
\by{Dirty Sanchez}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Dominic Bones}
|
||||
\chapter{Again}
|
||||
\by{Dominic Bones}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
I sat on the edge of my bed, drinking a glass of water I had just
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Donde Esta}
|
||||
\chapter{The Promise}
|
||||
\by{Donde Esta}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
5 A.M. is a shitty time for burnt coffee.
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Dr Scoofles}
|
||||
\chapter{The Long Finger of the Law}
|
||||
\by{Dr Scoofles}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Dr.\ Mulholland}
|
||||
\chapter{The Horrid Assignment}
|
||||
\by{Dr.\ Mulholland}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Funk In Shoe}
|
||||
\chapter{I am {\bf not} Luke Bavarius}
|
||||
\by{Funk In Shoe}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Interviewee: LARRY BAVARIUS - 05/05/09
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Ghost Hat}
|
||||
\chapter{Character Sketch}
|
||||
\by{Ghost Hat}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Ghost Hat}
|
||||
\chapter{Invisible Monsters}
|
||||
\by{Ghost Hat}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Hamelin}
|
||||
\chapter{The Painter}
|
||||
\by{Hamelin}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Hantu}
|
||||
\chapter{I, Lucius Baiuvarius}
|
||||
\by{Hantu}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
It is mid winter in the year 177 of the Christian god. As I write
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{HastyDeparture}
|
||||
\chapter{A Red Sky at Night}
|
||||
\by{HastyDeparture}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The sun slowly sinks in the sky, an orange halo telling of the the
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Helmet}
|
||||
\chapter{Kindness of Strangers}
|
||||
\by{Helmet}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Luke Bavarious was driving his squad car on Old Pine Road. A little
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Hired Gun}
|
||||
\chapter{The Bodies of Bavarii}
|
||||
\by{Hired Gun}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
It was a haunting and horrid night in the city. Luke Bavarious sat
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,10 +1,10 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{IShallRiseAgain}
|
||||
\chapter{The School}
|
||||
\by{IShallRiseAgain}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
John Jones was your average every-day student at Livingston Middle
|
||||
School. He was also very late. He hurried into his classroom for
|
||||
the gifted students of which he was the smartest and coolest. He
|
||||
gifted students of which he was the smartest and coolest. He
|
||||
hated his teacher, Miss Diabloclous, she was always giving them
|
||||
homework and pop quizzes. ``Your late, John Jones! You get a
|
||||
detention!'' shrieked Miss Diabloclous. ``Third one this
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Irish Joe}
|
||||
\chapter{The Boy That Lived}
|
||||
\by{Irish Joe}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{January}
|
||||
\chapter{The Journey}
|
||||
\by{January}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The name's Luke Bavarious, private detective. I've seen
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{JohnnyThreeToes}
|
||||
\chapter{Horrid Transformation}
|
||||
\by{JohnnyThreeToes}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
A man lives in that abandoned house at the end of the street. He is
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{JuicedSixFo}
|
||||
\chapter{Untitled}
|
||||
\by{JuicedSixFo}
|
||||
|
||||
As I stepped into the gloomy lights of 98th Avenue, I knew a grisly
|
||||
death had taken place. My Beretta was calmly rested in my calm hands,
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{King Plum the Nth}
|
||||
\chapter{Flow My Tears, the PI Said.}
|
||||
\by{King Plum the Nth}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The kids from the neighborhood pooled their money to hire me. All
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{King Plum the Nth}
|
||||
\chapter{Untitled}
|
||||
\by{King Plum the Nth}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
I'd never been to San Diego before. Never been further west
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Knuc If U Buck}
|
||||
\chapter{The Horrific Release}
|
||||
\by{Knuc If U Buck}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{KryonikMessiah}
|
||||
\chapter{The Ninjas}
|
||||
\by{KryonikMessiah}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{LesterGroans}
|
||||
\chapter[Dream Hyena]{Dream Hyena: A Bavarius Tale}
|
||||
\by{LesterGroans}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Livestock}
|
||||
\chapter[Destiny Calls]{Destiny Calls: A Luke Bavarius Mystery}
|
||||
\by{Livestock}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Luke Bavarius was on edge. For months he'd been receiving
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Lord Humongus}
|
||||
\chapter{The Cellar Of Death}
|
||||
\by{Lord Humongus}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Luke walked down the house's scarred walls. The place was full of
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Lorentz Factor}
|
||||
\chapter{It's just me, `Luke'}
|
||||
\by{Lorentz Factor}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Lynxifer}
|
||||
\chapter[The Orchestra of Nothing]{Luke Bavarious and the Orchestra of Nothing}
|
||||
\by{Lynxifer}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Madcosby}
|
||||
\chapter{Son Of Bavarious}
|
||||
\by{Madcosby}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Monkey Trouble}
|
||||
\chapter{The Cave}
|
||||
\by{Monkey Trouble}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The name's Bavarious. Luke Bavarious, P.I.
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Mortonic}
|
||||
\chapter{The Very Hungry Luke Bavarius}
|
||||
\by{Mortonic}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{O Tempora! O Mores!}
|
||||
\chapter{The First and Second Stories}
|
||||
\by{O Tempora! O Mores!}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
\section*{The first story!}
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Oatgan}
|
||||
\chapter{The Screaming Night}
|
||||
\by{Oatgan}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Orgasmo}
|
||||
\chapter{Make My Day}
|
||||
\by{Orgasmo}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The telephone rings. The cacophony breaks through the utter silence
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Paracetamol Boy}
|
||||
\chapter{The Smile}
|
||||
\by{Paracetamol Boy}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Part of Everything}
|
||||
\chapter{The Death Hamsters}
|
||||
\by{Part of Everything}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Peas and Rice}
|
||||
\chapter{The King}
|
||||
\by{Peas and Rice}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Phthalogreen}
|
||||
\chapter{Pearl}
|
||||
\by{Phthalogreen}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Pro-Swordbro}
|
||||
\chapter{Nobodys Savior}
|
||||
\by{Pro-Swordbro}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Quovak}
|
||||
\chapter{A Cursed Memory}
|
||||
\by{Quovak}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
My name is Luke Bavarious. I am a policeman. Recently my wife Vixie
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Ridgely\_Fan}
|
||||
\chapter{The Cocoon}
|
||||
\by{Ridgely\_Fan}
|
||||
|
||||
\section*{Part 1}
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Rummanging}
|
||||
\chapter{Nebulous Cupboard}
|
||||
\by{Rummanging}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Safe Driver}
|
||||
\chapter{Hell Cab}
|
||||
\by{Safe Driver}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
``Wake up, Bavarius! Wake up! Wake up!'' The
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Scissorfighter}
|
||||
\chapter{The Book}
|
||||
\by{Scissorfighter}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Trent Fencer was a bully{\ldots} He liked most to bully children. He
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Sirocco}
|
||||
\chapter{The Monster of Lake Grim}
|
||||
\by{Sirocco}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Sleepless Dreamer}
|
||||
\chapter[Reunion]{Reunion Under a Blood Red Moon}
|
||||
\by{Sleepless Dreamer}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Smeef}
|
||||
\chapter{The Old Child}
|
||||
\by{Smeef}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Smokey}
|
||||
\chapter{Thursday}
|
||||
\by{Smokey}
|
||||
|
||||
\section*{Chapter 1}
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{SummerGlaucoma}
|
||||
\chapter{Bavarious Reasons}
|
||||
\by{SummerGlaucoma}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Swanky}
|
||||
\chapter{Gold Ribbon}
|
||||
\by{Swanky}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Syphilicious!}
|
||||
\chapter[What Lurks Behind Our Eyes]{What Lurks Behind Our Eyes: The Horrid Reflection Revisited}
|
||||
\by{Syphilicious!}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Thursday night, and everything is quiet. Unusual for me, but in my
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{THE WORST DOCTOR}
|
||||
\chapter{The Snake Lady}
|
||||
\by{THE WORST DOCTOR}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
There was a kid who came up to me one evening after I had left my
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{TarDolphinorShark}
|
||||
\chapter{The Homeless Monster}
|
||||
\by{TarDolphinorShark}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
@ -54,10 +54,3 @@ 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
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{TheElectronicOne}
|
||||
\chapter{In the Mirror}
|
||||
\by{TheElectronicOne}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Out of the darkness came Rothard Mavalero. Grunting and thumping,
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{TheSpiritFox}
|
||||
\chapter{Untitled}
|
||||
\by{TheSpiritFox}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Luke walked into his room. Man! What a shitty day.
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{The Bananana}
|
||||
\chapter{Deja Vu}
|
||||
\by{The Bananana}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Luke awoke in a bed.
|
||||
|
@ -186,7 +186,7 @@ our affairs; you stuck your nose in our business. When we sent our men
|
|||
here to fire the house, we sent them for you. 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
|
||||
``I tried\ldots{} I came home\ldots{} the flames, they were everywhere'' Luke carried
|
||||
on, distantly.
|
||||
|
||||
``But don't worry. There's more.'' Said the boy, ``We have much more
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{The Iron Fury}
|
||||
\chapter{The Horrid Refraction}
|
||||
\by{The Iron Fury}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
{\em This entry picks up immediately after {\rm The Horrid Reflection}
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Torgo!}
|
||||
\chapter{Brian}
|
||||
\by{Torgo!}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Tufty}
|
||||
\chapter[Dames, they're all the Same]{Dames, they're all the Same: a Luke Bavarious detective story inspired by the works of Ben Biddick}
|
||||
\by{Tufty}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
|
@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
|
|||
\chapauth{Twigand Berries}
|
||||
\chapter{The Sack of Horrors}
|
||||
\by{Twigand Berries}
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
I polished off another set of ten and felt that good, deep burn. I
|
||||
|
|
Some files were not shown because too many files have changed in this diff Show More
Loading…
Reference in New Issue