More releases, update a few stories at authors' requests

2009-07-10 10:57:28 -06:00 · 2009-07-10 10:57:28 -06:00 · e2a7b36111
parent 395d036f19
commit e2a7b36111
3 changed files with 419 additions and 518 deletions
--- a/horrors2.ltx
+++ b/horrors2.ltx
@ -113,14 +113,14 @@ and/or blood.  Stay strong, pukers.
 %\include{stories/KryonikMessiah.The_Ninjas}
 \include{stories/IShallRiseAgain.The_School}
 \include{stories/Paracetamol_Boy.The_Smile}
-%\include{stories/ack_.The_Dock}
+\include{stories/ack_.The_Dock}
 \include{stories/rinski.The_Mansio}
 \include{stories/Syphilicious_.What_Lurks}
 %\include{stories/Rummanging.Nebulous_C}
 \include{stories/antiloquax.The_Unexpe}
 \include{stories/benitocereno.The_Beginn}
 %\include{stories/A_Child_s_Letter.Yellow_Eye}
-%\include{stories/Decatur_Fist.The_Last_N}
+\include{stories/Decatur_Fist.The_Last_N}
 %\include{stories/Brolita.Mac}
 \include{stories/nmg.The_Horrid}
 \include{stories/Ghost_Hat.Invisible_}
@ -131,24 +131,24 @@ and/or blood.  Stay strong, pukers.
 %\include{stories/TheElectronicOne.In_the_Mir}
 \include{stories/WhereTheFishLives.The_Horrid}
 \include{stories/on_time_for_once.The_Playgr}
-%\include{stories/overnightmike.The_Explod}
+\include{stories/overnightmike.The_Explod}
 \part{You're no Hakan}
 \include{stories/Part_of_Everything.The_Death_}
-%\include{stories/Madcosby.Son_Of_Bav}
+\include{stories/Madcosby.Son_Of_Bav}
 \include{stories/Dr_Scoofles.The_Long_F}
 %\include{stories/Peas_and_Rice.The_King}
 \include{stories/reasonable_form.The_Six_Si}
 %\include{stories/Smeef.The_Old_Ch}
 %\include{stories/jidohanbaiki.The_Ocean}
 \include{stories/Knuc_If_U_Buck.The_Horrif}
-%\include{stories/henpod.The_Last_C}
+\include{stories/henpod.The_Last_C}
-%\include{stories/Mortonic.The_Very_H}
+\include{stories/Mortonic.The_Very_H}
 %\include{stories/Oatgan.The_Scream}
 \include{stories/Lynxifer.The_Orches}
-%\include{stories/Cheesus_Christ.The_Horrid}
+\include{stories/Cheesus_Christ.The_Horrid}
-%\include{stories/brylcreem.The_Creatu}
+\include{stories/brylcreem.The_Creatu}
-%\include{stories/taurapo.The_Child}
+\include{stories/taurapo.The_Child}
 \include{stories/Assless_Chaps.The_Mosqui}
 \include{stories/Sirocco.The_Monste}
 \include{stories/Cota_Froise.The_Horrid}
@ -182,7 +182,7 @@ and/or blood.  Stay strong, pukers.
 \include{stories/JohnnyThreeToes.Horrid_Tra}
 \include{stories/King_Plum_the_Nth.Flow_My_Te}
 \include{stories/Yogi_Byron.Horror_D_o}
-%\include{stories/Funk_In_Shoe.I_am___bf_}
+\include{stories/Funk_In_Shoe.I_am___bf_}
 %\include{stories/Zarimus.Little_Men}
 \include{stories/CannedMacabre.For_the_Ch}
 \include{stories/Ridgely__Fan.The_Cocoon}
--- a/stories/Syphilicious_.What_Lurks.tex
+++ b/stories/Syphilicious_.What_Lurks.tex
@ -2,445 +2,326 @@
 \by{Syphilicious!}
 Thursday night, and everything is quiet. Unusual for me, but in my
-current settings it should be expected; instead of walking my beat
+current settings it should be expected; instead of walking my beat in
-in the thug-infested alleys of our dear city, I am far out in the
+the thug-infested alleys of our dear city, I am far out in the country,
-country, at Old Woman McCannshire's place, engaged in a staring
+at Old Woman McCannshire's place, engaged in a staring contest with the
-contest with the termites that crawl in and out of the floor of her
+termites that crawl in and out of the floor of her porch as I wait for
-porch as I wait for her to answer the door. The middle of nowhere
+her to answer the door. The middle of nowhere does not properly describe
-does not properly describe my location; I'd been driving so long
+my location; I'd been driving so long that I'm probably already halfway
-that I'm probably already halfway out. My name is Luke Bavarius,
+out. My name is Luke Bavarius, and I'm a detective, but tonight I appear
-and I'm a detective, but tonight I appear to be the guy that drives
+to be the guy that drives around checking under old biddies' beds for
-around checking under old biddies' beds for monsters.
+monsters.
 Even the pranks get men sent out these days. A prank is what I would
 have thought this would be if I didn't know the old woman calling was
 too addled to even have a teenager's sense of humor. McCannshire thinks
 her house is haunted by spirits, and wants one of us ``wonderful young
 men you have working down there'' to come check it out. I'm almost glad I
 forgot to bring my spare ammunition for my Beretta out here; I've used
 that thing enough today considering my nerves are just about as shot as
 those three bank robbers, and if this goose chase got any more boring
 I'd probably put it in my mouth and make brain gumbo.
 The unlatching of bolts awakens me from my reverie, and my head snaps
 back up into the proper position. ``You win this time, termites,'' I
 mutter, wiping a thin string of drool from my chin. Slowly, the door
 creaks open, and I am treated to the sight of Mrs. McCannshire in a
 wispy white nightgown. Perhaps in the prime of her youth this might have
 been something I could have tolerated or even enjoyed, but the broad has
 long been in her more tender years of age, her face has more wrinkles
 than the wandering Jew's underwear, and her nightgown is greasy with the
 mysterious secretions of the elderly. I try to focus on the mangy grey
 poodle she cradles in one arm, a dirty little mutt that she probably
 pampers like nobody's business. She really fits the picture of an old
 bag of bones, and as soon as she opens her mouth I can tell how far gone
 she really she is.
-Even the pranks get men sent out these days. A prank is what I
+``Are you the detective Officer Dent sent over to help with the spirits
-would have thought this would be, if I didn't know the old woman
+in my house?'' She speaks slowly and clearly, her eyes twin moons of
-calling was too addled to even have a teenager's sense of humor.
+gawkish innocence. I don't know which kind of dementia would be worse:
-McCannshire thinks her house is haunted by spirits, and wants one
+the flavor Mrs. McCannshire possesses where one is magically returned to
-of us ``wonderful young men you have working down there'' to come
+the age of nine or the other one where you think the walls are talking
-check it out. I'm almost glad I forgot to bring my spare ammunition
+to you. Although, considering why I was here, it's possible she suffered
-for my Beretta out here; I've used that thing enough today
+from the latter too.
 considering my nerves are just about as shot as those three bank
 robbers, and if this goose chase got any more boring I'd probably
 put it in my mouth and make brain gumbo.
 ``Uh\ldots yes. Yes, ma'am. Officer Dent is my, uh, superior.'' I step past
 her and walk inside, trying to ignore the subdued growl the mutt in her
 hands has started up upon sight of me. The place is clean to a point;
 there are numerous tables and shelves bedecked with pictures and family
 heirlooms, all meticulously dusted, but the carpet is smeared with dirty
 pawprints and general dust and filth, it's frayed and ragged material
 likely not blessed by the gentle touch of a vaccuum cleaner for
 years. The carpet and walls are an ugly matching beige and all the
 miscellaneous objects, despite constant care, have lost their
 luster. The only sign of real color comes from the bathroom behind the
 door opposite the one I had come in, wherein an even more hideous bright
 lime green covers the small amount of wall I can see around the door.
 I turn to face her, reaching into the folds of my trenchcoat and drawing
 out a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. ``Now, what seems to be the
 problem here?'' A lazy puff of smoke floats serenely past my raised
 eyebrow from my now lit cigarette.
-The unlatching of bolts awakens me from my reverie, and my head
+``Well,'' she says, setting the dog down onto the carpet where it does an
-snaps back up into the proper position. ``You win this time,
+annoying little dance around our legs, barking and whining, ``I've been
-termites,'' I mutter, wiping a thin string of drool from my chin.
+noticing things for several days now, but only this morning did it get
-Slowly, the door creaks open, and I am treated to the sight of Mrs.
+really bad. You see, every time I use the bathroom I feel someone is
-McCannshire in a wispy white nightgown. Perhaps in the prime of her
+watching me.''
 youth this might have been something I could have tolerated or even
 enjoyed, but the broad has long been in her more tender years of
 age, her face has more wrinkles than the wandering Jew's underwear,
 and her nightgown is greasy with the mysterious secretions of the
 elderly. I try to focus on the mangy grey poodle she cradles in one
 arm, a dirty little mutt that she probably pampers like nobody's
 business. She really fits the picture of an old bag of bones, and
 as soon as she opens her mouth I can tell how far gone she really
 she is.
 ``Are you the detective Officer Dent sent over to help with the
 spirits in my house?'' She speaks slowly and clearly, her eyes twin
 moons of gawkish innocence. I don't know which kind of dementia
 would be worse: the flavor Mrs. McCannshire possesses where one is
 magically returned to the age of nine or the other one where you
 think the walls are talking to you. Although, considering why I was
 here, it's possible she suffered from the latter too.
 ``Uh{\ldots}yes. Yes, ma'am. Officer Dent is my, uh, superior.'' I stepped
 past her and walked inside, trying to ignore the subdued growl the
 mutt in her hands had started up upon sight of me. The place was
 clean to a point; there were numerous tables and shelves bedecked
 with pictures and family heirlooms, all meticulously dusted, but
 the carpet was smeared with dirty pawprints and general dust and
 filth, it's frayed and ragged material likely not blessed by the
 gentle touch of a vaccuum cleaner for years. The carpet and walls
 were an ugly matching beige and all the miscellaneous objects,
 despite constant care, had lost their luster. The only sign of real
 color came from the bathroom behind the door opposite the one I had
 come in, wherein an even more hideous bright lime green covered the
 small amount of wall I could see around the door.
 I turned to face her, reaching into the folds of my trenchcoat and
 drawing out a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. ``Now, what seems
 to be the problem here?'' A lazy puff of smoke floated serenely past
 my raised eyebrow from my now lit cigarette.
 ``Well,'' she said, setting the dog down onto the carpet where it did
 an annoying little dance around our legs, barking and whining,
 ``I've been noticing things for several days now, but only this
 morning did it get really bad. You see, every time I use the
 bathroom I feel someone is watching me.''
 ``How can you tell?''
 ``Well, at first it was just an uneasy feeling. But then I started
-hearing voices that would say things that I couldn't make out. Then
+hearing voices that would say things that I couldn't make out. Then I
-I started seeing faces out of the corner of my eye or in a
+started seeing faces out of the corner of my eye or in a reflection. And
-reflection. And this is happening quite often, mind you. It's
+this is happening quite often, mind you. It's happened every time I go
-happened every time I go in there, and these days I tend to{\ldots}oh,
+in there, and these days I tend to\ldots oh, how should I say it\ldots
-how should I say it{\ldots}do my business more often, mostly because
+do my business more often, mostly because my--''
 my--''
 ``I understand, I understand,'' I said hurriedly. ``Please,
 continue.''
 ``Well, uh, this morning, I saw a face in the mirror behind me. And
 I didn't just see it, either; it was directly behind me, an entire
 person, and he didn't go away until I turned round.''
 ``I understand, I understand,'' I say hurriedly. ``Please, continue.''
 ``Well, uh, this morning, I saw a face in the mirror behind me. And I
 didn't just see it, either; it was directly behind me, an entire person,
 and he didn't go away until I turned round.''
 My eyebrow, which had just started to head home for the day, turned
-right back around and marched up my forehead. This sounded
+right back around and marched up my forehead. This sounded legitimately
-legitimately interesting. Whatever had actually happened, seeing a
+interesting. Whatever had actually happened, seeing a person plain as
-person plain as day was a lot better than imaginary sounds or
+day is a lot better than imaginary sounds or tricks of light that even
-tricks of light that even happened to people who weren't sitting
+happened to people who weren't sitting outside Death's doorstep in
-outside Death's doorstep in motorized wheelchairs. There was really
+motorized wheelchairs. There is really only one thing to do.
 only one thing to do.
 ``Well, I guess you'll have to show me the bathroom then, Mrs.
 McCannshire.''
 ``Right you are, dear.'' She seems to notice that my gaze had strayed
 to the pictures on the small table next to the front door, and as
 she hobbles past me towards the bathroom she begins to talk about
 her dead husband. Half listening to her talk about the dangers of
 late term prostate cancer and wincing at the intimate descriptions
 she gives of the times she went with him for his checkups, I search
 for an ashtray and find one nestled in between boxes of tissue and
 stack of gardening books. I rub the flame out and leave the stub,
 resolving not to smoke any more until I leave the house. The old
 woman doesn't need all that smoke.
 ``Well, I guess you'll have to show me the bathroom then,
 Mrs. McCannshire.''
 ``Right you are, dear.'' She seems to notice that my gaze has strayed to
 the pictures on the small table next to the front door, and as she
 hobbles past me towards the bathroom she begins to talk about her dead
 husband. Half listening to her talk about the dangers of late term
 prostate cancer and wincing at the intimate descriptions she gives of
 the times she went with him for his checkups, I search for an ashtray
 and find one nestled in between boxes of tissue and stack of gardening
 books. I rub the flame out and leave the stub, resolving not to smoke
 any more until I leave the house. The old woman doesn't need all that
 smoke.
 As I join her in the bathroom, I see that her poodle has the same
-idea. It flies past me and sits whining at her feet until she
+idea. It flies past me and sits whining at her feet until she relents
-relents and picks it up again. I stand next to her and look around
+and picks it up again. I stand next to her and look around the room. The
-the room. The mirror is old but clean, and the porcelain throne in
+mirror is old but clean, and the porcelain throne in the corner is the
-the corner is the same. I look into the sink, and from the short,
+same. I look into the sink, and from the short, curly gray hairs lining
-curly gray hairs lining the rim I deduce that she washes the dog in
+the rim I deduce that she washes the dog in it; either that or she's
-it; either that or she's more up on the trends of women of today
+more up on the trends of women of today than you'd think of a gal her
-than you'd think of a gal her age.
+age.
 The horror of the thought further distracts me, and I begin to develop
 that thousand yard stare as she tells me about the various scary
 encounters she has experienced while voiding her bowels, unnecessarily
 clueing me in on the second part in her stories too. Technically I am
 looking at the hot water handle, but I am miles away, back on a real
 cop's beat or in the arms of a good woman, whichever one does a better
 job of distracting me from her current tale of a mysterious voice
 whispering in what she thinks is Latin and the effects of the creamed
 corn she had with lunch two days ago. Suddenly I spy in the reflection
 from the mirror that the dog has the same idea. The yappy little thing
 now sits silent and unmoving in her arms, staring intently into the eyes
 of its reflection.
 At first I am grateful for the relative silence that its new object of
 interest has provided, but after a minute it begins to make my skin go
 all goosey. I've never seen a dog sit that still for anything. I slowly
 move my hand in front of its face, nodding to show Mrs. McCannshire I am
 listening at a pause in her latest story involving the cupboard swinging
 open and almost hitting her in the head and how the fright really helped
 ``loosen things, down there''. I pass my hand back in forth in front of
 the dog's vision to no effect. In a moment of clarity I drudge up the
 dog's name out of its owner's ramblings.
-The horror of the thought further distracts me, and I begin to
+``Jasper! Hey, Jasper!'' At once the dog is a flurry of motion, leaping
-develop that thousand yard stare as she tells me about the various
+out of her hands and latching onto the watch around my wrist with its
-scary encounters she has experienced while voiding her bowels,
+teeth. I stumble backwards into the main room and fall to the floor,
-unnecessarily clueing me in on the second part in her stories too.
+frantically batting at the hideous ball of fur as it growls like a
-Technically I am looking at the hot water handle, but I am miles
+recently castrated bear. Instinct takes over; my mind recognizes when I
-away, back on a real cop's beat or in the arms of a good woman,
+am in a fight for my life even when the opponent is a 15-pound owl
-whichever one does a better job of distracting me from her current
+pellet. Without thinking I wrap the palm of the hand it grips around its
-tale of a mysterious voice whispering in what she thinks is Latin
+head and bash it repeatedly against the edge of a bookshelf next to me,
-and the effects of the creamed corn she had with lunch two days
+then stagger to my feet and swing it around the room, screaming to match
-ago. Suddenly I spy in the reflection from the mirror that the dog
+its rabid cries. All of a sudden it flies free with a high pitched yelp
-has the same idea. The yappy little thing now sits silent and
+and collides with the table on which the ashtray rested and the table
-unmoving in her arms, staring intently into the eyes of its
+and its contents tumble to the ground.
 reflection.
 At first I am grateful for the relative silence that its new object
 of interest has provided, but after a minute it begins to make my
 skin go all goosey. I've never seen a dog sit that still for
 anything. I slowly move my hand in front of its face, nodding to
 show Mrs. McCannshire I am listening at a pause in her latest story
 involving the cupboard swinging open and almost hitting her in the
 head and how the fright really helped ``loosen things, down there''.
 I pass my hand back in forth in front of the dog's vision to no
 effect. In a moment of clarity I drudge up the dog's name out of
 its owner's ramblings.
 ``Jasper! Hey, Jasper!'' At once the dog is a flurry of motion,
 leaping out of her hands and latching onto the watch around my
 wrist with its teeth. I stumble backwards into the main room and
 fall to the floor, frantically batting at the hideous ball of fur
 as it growls like a recently castrated bear. Instinct takes over;
 my mind recognizes when I am in a fight for my life even when the
 opponent is a 15-pound owl pellet. Without thinking I wrap the palm
 of the hand it grips around its head and bash it repeatedly against
 the edge of a bookshelf next to me, then stagger to my feet and
 swing it around the room, screaming to match its rabid cries. All
 of a sudden it flies free with a high pitched yelp and collides
 with the table on which the ashtray rested and the table and its
 contents tumble to the ground.
 I approach cautiously, waiting for my opponent to make some sign of
-life. At once the small pile of picture frames and knicknacks
+life. At once the small pile of picture frames and knicknacks erupts as
-erupts as Jasper flies straight towards my face.
+Jasper flies straight towards my face.
 I have anticipated it; it passes fruitlessly over my head as I lean
-backwards almost parallel to the floor, and I hear its frenzied
+backwards almost parallel to the floor, and I hear its frenzied growling
-growling suddenly muffled. I push my spine back into place with one
+suddenly muffled. I push my spine back into place with one hand and spin
-hand and spin around only to see Jasper hanging from the ledge of a
+around only to see Jasper hanging from the ledge of a desk, his jaw
-desk, his jaw wrapped around it and his teeth grinding into it as
+wrapped around it and his teeth grinding into it as if he imagined it to
-if he imagined it to be my arm. I act quickly, sparing no mercy.
+be my arm. I act quickly, sparing no mercy. With several steps I come
-With several steps I come upon the helpless creature and I lift a
+upon the helpless creature and I lift a booted foot to hover a foot away
-booted foot to hover a foot away from the back of its skull.
+from the back of its skull.
 ``Chew on this, pooch.''
-
+There is a loud, wet crack as its skull explodes like a balloon filled
-
+with bones and blood. It's corpse falls silently to the floor, followed
-There is a loud, wet crack as its skull explodes like a balloon
+by the lower half of his jaw and head. The top half rests on top of the
-filled with bones and blood. It's corpse falls silently to the
+desk, firmly embedded into the wood. I curse silently to myself and wipe
-floor, followed by the lower half of his jaw and head. The top half
+my foot off on the carpet, leaving behind a red smear flecked with hair
-rests on top of the desk, firmly embedded into the wood. I curse
+and bits of bone.
 silently to myself and wipe my foot off on the carpet, leaving
 behind a red smear flecked with hair and bits of bone.
 All at once I come to my senses, and I turn to see Mrs. McCannshire
 standing at the bathroom door. For a second we both stand staring
-wordlessly at each other, then she utters a soft cry and flees back
+wordlessly at each other, then she utters a soft cry and flees back into
-into the bathroom. I hear a soft click as she locks the door behind
+the bathroom. I hear a soft click as she locks the door behind her.
 her.
 I sigh and walk over, knocking on the door. ``Mrs. McCannshire, I'm sorry
 about Jasper, okay? I shouldn't have\ldots done that, but he was, I mean he
 was attacking me. There was nothing else I could do.''
 I continued to apologize while I listened to her sobs, trying to look
 anywhere but back at that head, or that part of it, those sightless eyes
 silently judging me. I've killed people before in my line of work, and I
 see their faces when I close my eyes, but now this mutt was getting to
 me more than any of them ever did. It was an irritable little thing, but
 why did it up and attack me like that? What did it see in that mirror?
-I sigh and walk over, knocking on the door. ``Mrs. McCannshire, I'm
+I notice that the crying on the other side of the door has stopped, and
-sorry about Jasper, okay? I shouldn't have{\ldots}done that, but he was,
+for a moment I feel relief. ``Mrs. McCannshire, if you can just come out
-I mean he was attacking me. There was nothing else I could
+here we can talk about this. Again, I'm sorry about your dog, but--''
 do.''
 I am interrupted by the click of the lock, and as the door slowly comes
 ajar I help her open it. She stands there, head down, and she looks so
 depressed that I can't help but resume my apologies. ``If there's
 anything I can do to pay you back for what I did, you name it. I really
 can't tell you how sorry I am, I'll get you a new dog, whatever you
 want. I'm sure I\ldots{}''
 The look in her eyes when she raises her head is different than what
 you'd think a hysterical old woman would have. They're more intelligent
 than they were before, those eyes, and they seem to possess more menace
 than I assume an old lady like that would be able to muster.
-I continued to apologize while I listened to her sobs, trying to
+One bony hand wraps around my throat with otherworldy strength, choking
-look anywhere but back at that head, or that part of it, those
+off the rest of the sentence. She lifts me off my feet, pulls back, and
-sightless eyes silently judging me. I've killed people before in my
+for a brief moment everything is serene.
 line of work, and I see their faces when I close my eyes, but now
 this mutt was getting to me more than any of them ever did. It was
 an irritable little thing, but why did it up and attack me like
 that? What did it see in that mirror?
 Then I hit the wall. I slide down next to the open front door, and after
 my eyes uncross and the black in front of my eyes goes away I use the
 knob to pull myself up. I check for broken bones and don't find good
 news in the ribs area, but other than that I am fine, if bruised.
 ``Well, you've got a good arm, I have to give you that.'' I think over my
 options, running my tongue over my teeth. I can't hurt her; she's
 obviously just possessed by whateve possessed that dog in the mirror. I
 have to get the spirit out of her, or incapacitate her, but I don't know
 how to perform exorcisms and at her age a gust of wind could kill
 her. Although if she's able to throw like that maybe she's a lot
 stronger in other ways too. What if I tied her up?
-I notice that the crying on the other side of the door has stopped,
+Something makes my train of thought come to a screeching halt. It hasn't
-and for a moment I feel relief. ``Mrs. McCannshire, if you can just
+reached the station, it's gone straight off the tracks. There were no
-come out here we can talk about this. Again, I'm sorry about your
+survivors.
 dog, but--''
 I am interrupted by the click of the lock, and as the door slowly
 comes ajar I help her open it. She stands there, head down, and she
 looks so depressed that I can't help but resume my apologies. ``If
 there's anything I can do to pay you back for what I did, you name
 it. I really can't tell you how sorry I am, I'll get you a new dog,
 whatever you want. I'm sure I{\ldots}could{\ldots}uh{\ldots}''
 The look in her eyes when she raises her head is different than
 what you'd think a hysterical old woman would have. They're more
 intelligent than they were before, those eyes, and they seem to
 possess more menace than I assume an old lady like that would be
 able to muster.
 One bony hand wraps around my throat with otherworldy strength,
 choking off the rest of the sentence. She lifts me off my feet,
 pulls back, and for a brief moment everything is serene.
 Then I hit the wall. I slide down next to the open front door, and
 after my eyes uncross and the black in front of my eyes goes away I
 use the knob to pull myself up. I check for broken bones and don't
 find good news in the ribs area, but other than that I am fine, if
 bruised.
 ``Well, you've got a good arm, I have to give you that.'' I think
 over my options, running my tongue over my teeth. I can't hurt her;
 she's obviously just possessed by whateve possessed that dog in the
 mirror. I have to get the spirit out of her, or incapacitate her,
 but I don't know how to perform exorcisms and at her age a gust of
 wind could kill her. Although if she's able to throw like that
 maybe she's a lot stronger in other ways too. What if I tied her
 up?
 Something makes my train of thought come to a screeching halt. It
 hasn't reached the station, it's gone straight off the tracks.
 There were no survivors.
 My brain is recieving messages my tongue shouldn't be sending. It's
 not finding something that should be there. I grab a polished
 silver cup off a table and flash my teeth at my reflection. There's
 a black square where there should be a nice little white one.
 My brain is recieving messages my tongue shouldn't be sending. It's not
 finding something that should be there. I grab a polished silver cup off
 a table and flash my teeth at my reflection. There's a black square
 where there should be a nice little white one.
 I've lost a tooth.
 This bitch is going to die.
 I toss the cup and pull my piece, my finger already on the
 trigger. Worse men talk about how their guns sing songs that only ever
 have a few notes; that's played out, and anyway my Beretta never saw the
 appeal in singing. It yells, and it only ever needs to raise its voice
 once to win an argument with someone.
-
+As I aim down the sights at the old girl now barrelling towards me from
-I toss the cup and pull my piece, my finger already on the trigger.
+accross the room with a horrifying screech, I recall something about not
-Worse men talk about how their guns sing songs that only ever have
+having ammunition, and I anticipate the empty little click. Cursing
-a few notes; that's played out, and anyway my Beretta never saw the
+wildly, I hurl the gun at her, and it bounces off her forehead
-appeal in singing. It yells, and it only ever needs to raise its
+ineffectively. I reach for the knife strapped to my leg down at my
-voice once to win an argument with someone.
+ankle, but it is too late; she knocks it out of my hand with one swift
-
+strike just as I am bringing it up and it clatters against the wall. She
-
+slams me up against the same patch of wall that I'd said hello to twenty
-
+seconds ago and holds me at arm's length against the wall, my head more
-As I aim down the sights at the old girl now barrelling towards me
+than two feet higher than hers and my feet off the ground clattering
-from accross the room with a horrifying screech, I recall something
+against the wall. Both hands are wrapped around my neck and I am rapidly
-about not having ammunition, and I anticipate the empty little
+losing oxygen. You need to do something now, I think. Or you're done,
 click. Cursing wildly, I hurl the gun at her, and it bounces off
 her forehead ineffectively. I reach for the knife strapped to my
 leg down at my ankle, but it is too late; she knocks it out of my
 hand with one swift strike just as I am bringing it up and it
 clatters against the wall. She slams me up against the same patch
 of wall that I'd said hello to twenty seconds ago and holds me at
 arm's length against the wall, my head more than two feet higher
 than hers and my feet off the ground clattering against the wall.
 Both hands are wrapped around my neck and I am rapidly losing
 oxygen. You need to do something now, I think. Or you're done,
 Luke. You're done.
 Frantically my hands search for something, anything, to fight her off
 with, finding nothing. I'm simply too far off the ground to reach
 anything. I turn my head as much as her steel fingers allow, and through
 my darkening vision I can barely see an umbrella stand with one large
 black umbrella in it. In vain I stretch my left hand towards the handle,
 my fingers finding air and then brushing the handle. I strain as hard as
 I can as the pain advances and my sight blackens, and suddenly I have a
 grip, I grasp it with the very tips of my fingers, bring it up to my
 hand. She is laughing now, piercing and mocking, delighting in her
 triumph. She doesn't keep it up for long. I raise the umbrella high
 above my head then stab it down into her open mouth and throat, pushing
 it into her esophagus as she spits and gurgles, her hands clutching even
 tighter at my neck. The handle is just past her teeth, my hand gripping
 it firmly even as she bites into my wrist. I use my thumb to find the
 release and push it up.
 The umbrella is spring operated, the fabric edged with sharp metal. Her
 neck evaporates in a cloud of blood and her head shoots up into the
 hair, twirling in the air like a basketball and falling to the ground
 with I and the rest of her body.
-Frantically my hands search for something, anything, to fight her
+After a while, coughing and wheezing, I push her corpse off of me and
-off with, finding nothing. I'm simply too far off the ground to
+use the blood-soaked umbrella to stand up. As soon as I try to walk
-reach anything. I turn my head as much as her steel fingers allow,
+towards the nearest chair, I stumble and trip over her head. Standing up
-and through my darkening vision I can barely see an umbrella stand
+again, I look back down at the bloody mess on the carpet and on me. I
-with one large black umbrella in it. In vain I stretch my left hand
+feel bile rising in my throat, and I turn to run to the bathroom.
 towards the handle, my fingers finding air and then brushing the
 handle. I strain as hard as I can as the pain advances and my sight
 blackens, and suddenly I have a grip, I grasp it with the very tips
 of my fingers, bring it up to my hand. She is laughing now,
 piercing and mocking, delighting in her triumph. She doesn't keep
 it up for long. I raise the umbrella high above my head then stab
 it down into her open mouth and throat, pushing it into her
 esophagus as she spits and gurgles, her hands clutching even
 tighter at my neck. The handle is just past her teeth, my hand
 gripping it firmly even as she bites into my wrist. I use my thumb
 to find the release and push it up.
 I push past the door and stagger to the sink, where I vomit noisily and
 stand for a while, staring into this puddle of my own sick. After what
 seems like forever I look up and into my reflection in the mirror. I am
 hunched over the sink, my hands still grasping the sides, my mouth
 hanging open and a thin trail of vomit hanging from my lower lip. My
 eyes are wet with tears from the choking and the vomiting.
 Truly I am a pitiful sight. I give myself a weak smile, as if it will
 cheer me up. I can't help but notice that something is off in my
 reflection, but I can't think what. Then I tongue the gap where my tooth
 used to be. My reflection does not. It still has the full set.
-The umbrella is spring operated, the fabric edged with sharp metal.
+The reflection straightens its back and wipes the vomit away, dries its
-Her neck evaporates in a cloud of blood and her head shoots up into
+eyes with the sleeve of its shirt, and all I can do is stare in dumb
-the hair, twirling in the air like a basketball and falling to the
+incomprehension. It is the same short black hair, the same baby blue
-ground with I and the rest of her body.
+eyes, the same trenchcoat, the same man, yet it moves of its own free
-
+will. It is me and yet it is not me.
 After a while, coughing and wheezing, I push her corpse off of me
 and use the blood-soaked umbrella to stand up. As soon as I try to
 walk towards the nearest chair, I stumble and trip over her head.
 Standing up again, I look back down at the bloody mess on the
 carpet and on me. I feel bile rising in my throat, and I turn to
 run to the bathroom.
 I push past the door and stagger to the sink, where I vomit noisily
 and stand for a while, staring into this puddle of my own sick.
 After what seems like forever I look up and into my reflection in
 the mirror. I am hunched over the sink, my hands still grasping the
 sides, my mouth hanging open and a thin trail of vomit hanging from
 my lower lip. My eyes are wet with tears from the choking and the
 vomiting.
 Truly I am a pitiful sight. I give myself a weak smile, as if it
 will cheer me up. I can't help but notice that something is off in
 my reflection, but I can't think what. Then I tongue the gap where
 my tooth used to be. My reflection does not. It still has the full
 set.
 The reflection straightens its back and wipes the vomit away, dries
 its eyes with the sleeve of its shirt, and all I can do is stare in
 dumb incomprehension. It is the same short black hair, the same
 baby blue eyes, the same trenchcoat, the same man, yet it moves of
 its own free will. It is me and yet it is not me.
 It has an almost condecending look in its eyes as it reaches down
 below the sink, to its ankle. It comes back up, my knife in its
 hands, its knife, and I cannot move a muscle.
 It has an almost condecending look in its eyes as it reaches down below
 the sink, to its ankle. It comes back up, my knife in its hands, its
 knife, and I cannot move a muscle.
 There is a flash of metal. He cuts through my throat like
-cheesecake. The arterial spray gives a good portion of the shitty
+cheesecake. The arterial spray gives a good portion of the shitty green
-green paint job a new coat from the opposite side of the color
+paint job a new coat from the opposite side of the color wheel. There is
-wheel. There is a brief sense of motion, and I taste ceramic, my
+a brief sense of motion, and I taste ceramic, my body thudding to the
-body thudding to the bathroom floor. I move my mouth wordlessly as
+bathroom floor. I move my mouth wordlessly as red begins to creep along
-red begins to creep along the grout in between the white tiles. I
+the grout in between the white tiles. I hear a shuffle of fabic as my
-hear a shuffle of fabic as my other self steps through the mirror
+other self steps through the mirror and lowers himself from the sink to
-and lowers himself from the sink to the floor. He steps over my
+the floor. He steps over my body, taking care to not step in the
-body, taking care to not step in the advancing pool of blood.
+advancing pool of blood.
 My vision begins to cloud for the last time as he casts the knife
 absentmindedly down in front me. It slides to a halt next to my
-forehead. He begins to walk towards the front door, then stops,
+forehead. He begins to walk towards the front door, then stops, turns
-turns around. He walks cooly back to me, crouches in front of me,
+around. He walks cooly back to me, crouches in front of me, grimacing at
-grimacing at the blood that is in danger of soiling the knee of his
+the blood that is in danger of soiling the knee of his pants. He looks
-pants. He looks me in the eyes, and begins to say something, then
+me in the eyes, and begins to say something, then thinks better of
-thinks better of it. He does nothing for a second, simply watches
+it. He does nothing for a second, simply watches me dying, then reaches
-me dying, then reaches over, placing an index and middle finger on
+over, placing an index and middle finger on my eyelids, and then he
-my eyelids, and then he slides them shut.
+slides them shut.
 ``Good night, Luke.'' 
--- a/stories/The_Bananana.Deja_Vu.tex
+++ b/stories/The_Bananana.Deja_Vu.tex
@ -2,136 +2,163 @@
 \by{The Bananana}
 Luke awoke in a bed.
-Luke awoke in a bed. He stared at the ceiling and searched his mind
+He stared at the ceiling; his head ached, pounded as he struggled to sit
-for his surroundings. He couldn't remember a thing. His head
+up. He was in a clean white room.
 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 window, with drawn curtains yellowed with age, easily let light into
-The sounds and clatter of morning seeped through as well. He swung
+the room. The sun flooded the room, bouncing off the floor with a soft
-his legs over the side of the bed. His head was still aching, but
+mahogany glow, and gave the entire room a hospitable warmth. The
-it was lessening.
+blanket, worn and frayed with use, was nonetheless comfortable, and only
 added to the rooms ivory radiance. Beyond the tarnished brass rail
 footboard was the only other thing in the room that wasn't. A black
 door, defiant and bold, contrasted the pearlescent efforts of the rest
 of the room.
 Beneath the door drifted the smell of home. Of warm bread. Of eggs. The
 sounds and clatter of morning seeped through as well; of voices
 murmuring, talking, laughing, accompanied by a symphony of pots and
 pans.
 Luke swung his legs over the side of the bed. His head still ached, but
 it was lessening; he still couldn't remember a thing, everything before
 waking up just felt like a hazy dream. He searched the room for his
 personal affects to no avail. No shoes or clothes, no wallet or keys,
 and most importantly, no holster.
 He didn't like any of it but, at least for now, he felt in no real
 danger, and decided to take a look around and see what he could find out
 about\ldots about everything.
 He stood.
-The sun's beams had warmed the floor. He stretched, lost his
+He savored the feel of the sun warmed floor. He stretched, reaching for
-balance, and feel back to the bed. He lay there, lying in the
+the speckled ceiling before he lost his balance and feel back onto the
-light, when he began to listen.
+bed. He lay there, basking in the light, when he began to listen more
 closely to the sounds behind the door.
-A voice, He recognized it. Then another. He knew them both.
+That voice. He recognized it! The other too! He knew them both.
-No, he thought, he must be dreaming.
+No, he thought. He had to be dreaming. There was no way he had heard
 right.
-He got up and turned towards the door. Behind him, through the
+He got up and turned towards the door. Behind him, through the window,
-windows, the trees began dancing lightly in a sudden fresh
+the trees began dancing lightly in a sudden fresh breeze.
 breeze.
-He inched to the door, and reached for the knob, and recoiled in
+He stepped to the door, and reached for the knob. He felt a warm heat
-pain, as the hot door burned his hand.
+radiating from the door. But the voices persisted. He had to know who
 was just beyond the door. He grabbed the knob, and instantly recoiled in
 pain as the burning hot steel bit into his hand.
-``What are you doing'' asked a young boy from the corner
+``What are you doing'' asked a young boy from the corner of the room.
 of the room, surprising Luke.
-He was small. Pale. He looked unwell.
+He had startled Luke, and was lucky the cold steel of his Berretta wasn'
 t weighing against his chest like it normally did. The child, no more
 than 10 years old looked pale and unwell. He looked as though his mother
 had dressed him for church, black Sunday suit, shined black shoes, even
 his jet black hair looked as though it had been slicked back by an
 overbearing mother.
-``Wha{\ldots}who are you''? Luke said, studying the
+``Wha\ldots who are you? What am I doing here? Do\ldots Do you live
-stranger.
+here, is this your home''? Luke said, studying the strange child.
-``That wasn't part of the deal'' the boy
+``That wasn't part of the deal'' the boy replied eerily un-phased by
-replied.
+Luke's questions.
 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
+Luke knew what was on the other side. The voices he had heard, the
-son. Sitting, waiting. Her red locks swaying and bouncing as she
+voices he could hear right now, were of his family. His wife. His
-prepared their breakfast. His boy, sitting at the table, his feet
+son. Sitting, waiting. He could hear them now, as he listened, he could
-dangling from the chair, smiling and laughing.
+see them in his mind. 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.
+The young boy continued.
-Don't open the door.'' He said again.
+``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,
+violently amidst an angry grass sea, heaving beneath the dark sky, as
-as rain began to pelt the glass.
+rain began to pelt the glass.
-``What are you doing here? Who are you?'' Luke tried
+``What are you doing here? Who are you?'' Luke tried again.
 again.
-``You're not listening.'' the boy's eyes
+``You're not listening.'' the boy's eyes narrowed and he carried on,
-narrowed and he continued,
+``Enjoy it. Lay back down this time. Stay and enjoy it.''
-``Enjoy it. Lay down this time. Stay and enjoy
+The kid must be sick, Luke thought to himself, he's not making any
 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
+``I've got a son about your age, he's right in there'' Luke said
-there'' Luke said pointing to the door.
+pointing to the door, trying to distract the child, ``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.''
-``Do you have any friends? I'm sure my boy will play
+``Luke'', the boy cut him off, ``Your son and wife are dead. They've
-with you. Do you like pancakes? My wife, she makes the best
+been dead, since the fire. You know that. You know the deal. Stay
-pancakes.''
+here. Enjoy it.''
-``Luke'', the boy cut him off, ``Your son and wife
+``What do you know about my wife and son? What do you mean they're
-are dead. They've been dead, since the fire. You know the
+dead.'' He stared at the child, ``Boy, I know your sick but you can't
-deal. Stay here. Enjoy it.''
+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.
-``What do you know about my wife and son? What do you mean
+``Please Luke,'' The boys face was unchanged, his voice placid but
-they're dead.'' He stared at the child
+firm. ``Don't open the do\ldots{}''
-``Boy, I know your sick but you can't talk like that,
+``Hey!'' Luke yelled interrupting the boy, ``now I don't know what in
-it's not right. Listen, listen to them, can't you hear
+the hell you're going on about, but it ends right now. Get out of here
-them, they're in there right now, look I'll show
+you sick freak, get out! Get ou-'' Luke searched for something to
-you'' Luke turned to the door.
+threaten the boy with, grabbing a lamp that had been behind him, but he
 turned back only to find the boy had disappeared, he was gone.
-``Please Luke,'' The boys face was unchanged, his voice
+Luke rubbed his eyes. Had the boy really just vanished? It was
-placid but firm and sure. ``Don't open the
+impossible. As he stood there wondering what had just happened, he
-do{\ldots}''
+noticed that his head didn't hurt any more. He turned to search the
 room again, search for the boy, search for his belongings. He looked out
 the window. 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.
-``Hey!'' Luke interrupted, ``now I don't know
+He grasped the knob tightly preparing for the searing pain when suddenly
-what in the hell you're going on about, but it ends right
+it was deafeningly quiet. He turned and looked back outside. It was
-now. Get out of here you sick freak, get out''! And the boy
+bright, very bright out, and the trees and sky were calm. The door was
-was gone.
+cool to the touch, and Luke pulled open the door, eager to see his
 family.
-Luke rubbed his eyes. Had the boy really just vanished? As he
+Black. Charred wood. Everything, all of it, consumed. He steeped through
-wondered what had just happened, he noticed that his head
+the crumbling doorway.
 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
+A burnt frame stood in place of former walls; the ghastly skeleton now
-turned and looked back outside. It was bright, very bright out, and
+surrounded all the ash and rubble that had been a home. Outside,
-the trees and sky were calm. The door was cool to the touch, and
+surrounding the house were people. Fire crews, emergency personnel,
-Luke pulled open the door, eager to see his family.
+neighbors, all of them just standing around the house, all of them just
 silently, chillingly starring. Luke was standing in what used to be a
 kitchen, when he recognized it. This was his house, this used to be his
 home. Where the sink had been rose a pair of pipes, jagged and singed,
 but sturdy and resilient. And then he saw them. Across the blackened
 room lay the dark remains of a woman clutching a child.
-Black. Charred wood. Everything, all of it, consumed. HE steeped
+He couldn't breathe, he couldn't swallow. Grief and sorrow were
-through the crumbling doorway. The burnt skeleton of walls now
+throttling him, and suddenly he let loose in heaving spasms as he ran to
-surrounded all the ash and rubble that was once his home. Outside,
+his family. He knelt, sobbing, over what was left of them.
 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
+The crowd erupted in a bellowing barrage of whispers that come from
 everywhere and nowhere at once. Not on person's mouth was moving and
 yet their voices were infinite, filling the air with an angry accusatory
 heat.
 ``You did this''
@ -143,68 +170,61 @@ The crowd erupted in a bellowing barrage of whispers
 ``They came for you''
-``No{\ldots}NO!'' Luke screamed, ``I couldn't
+``No\ldots {\bf no!}'' Luke screamed, ``I couldn't stop them\ldots{}''
 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
+``I asked you not to open the door this time. I asked you to stay on the
-stay on the other side.''
+other side.''
-``I{\ldots}I tried to save them'' Luke sputtered
+``I\ldots I tried to save them'' Luke sputtered out.
 out
-``No'' reasoned the boy, ``no, you damned them. You
+``No'' reasoned the boy, ``no, you damned them. You dug too deep into
-dug too deep into our affairs; you stuck your nose in our business.
+our affairs; you stuck your nose in our business. When we sent our men
-It was you that did this to your wife. To your son. You are
+here to fire the house, we sent them for you. It was you that did this
-responsible.''
+to your wife. To your son. You are responsible.''
-``I tried{\ldots}I came home{\ldots}the flames, they were
+``I tried\ldots I came home\ldots the flames, they were everywhere'' Luke carried
-everywhere'' Luke carried on, distantly.
+on, distantly.
-``There's more.'' Said the boy,
+``But don't worry. There's more.'' Said the boy, ``We have much more
-``there's more for you''
+for you''
-``No, it doesn't matter now'', Luke said sitting
+``No,'' Luke said sitting up, looking at the boy. ``it doesn't matter
-up, looking at the boy
+now''
-His hollowed eyes and emotionless gaze should have terrified
+The child stared back with hollowed eyes and an emotionless gaze that
-Luke.
+should have terrified Luke.
-``You can't do anything to me now{\ldots}just kill me.
+``You can't do anything to me now\ldots just kill me. Kill me''
 Kill me''
-The boy's brows furrowed, his face twisted, pulled and broke.
+The boy's brows furrowed, his face twisted, pulled and broke. He
-He smiled, and then began to laugh.
+smiled, and then began to laugh.
-``Kill you?'' He said regaining his composure,
+``Kill you?'' He said regaining his composure, ``Why? Why would I kill
-``Why? Why would I kill you? No. We have something much worse
+you? No. We have something much worse for you.'' The crowd's maddening
-for you.'' And the crowd's accusing chants began to
+chants began to bleed through the boy's speech. They seemed to scream
-bleed through the boy's speech. They screamed now. Angry,
+now, everyone of them and none of them at once. Angry, haunting howls
-haunting, they pierced through Luke's hands as he covered his
+pierced through Luke's hands as he covered his ears.
 ears.
-``No, {\bf noo!}'' he screamed as he began to beat his head
+``No, {\bf noo!}'' he screamed as he began to beat his head against the
-against the rubble. But it did nothing to lessen the shrieking
+rubble. But it did nothing to lessen the shrieking crowd. He had to end
-crowd. He had to end it. He saw the pipe, sticking out of the
+it. He looked around and saw the pipe sticking out of the foundation. It'
-foundation. Its jagged end would easily drive through his
+ll do he thought.
 head.
-He stood, the cries and screams still pursuing and punishing him.
+He stood, the cries and screams still pursuing and punishing him. He
-He took a breath and slammed his head down.
+struggled over to the pipe, rusty and charred. He'd have to be
 quick. He'd only get one chance. He took a breath and slammed his head
 down.
 Luke awoke in a bed.
 He stared at the ceiling; his head ached, pounded as he struggled to sit
 up. He was in a clean white room.
-Luke awoke in a bed. He stared at the ceiling and searched his mind
+There was a noise. Familiar. Welcome.
 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.