Lost Soul

estherase photos on flickr

The twisted bones that curled together to form fingers reached into the beetle’s body.  A bloodied bone from some other small creature lay to the side, wielded as a weapon against this beautiful black, green beetle.  Its fingers were sharp, like serrated knifes,and with ease, the fingers flicked the exoskeleton away.  Pieces of green oozing blood pooled underneath the body.  The bloody substance stuck between each piercing finger, dripping around the beetle like snot on a cold winter’s day.

As the bones plunged themselves deeper into the thick skin,the beetle let out one last sigh of breathe before shuddering, dead.  The hands curled around the heart, still warmwith the last beat.  One finger poked inside the heart, wrapping the arteries around its tip.  It torn and shred at it until half of the organ was outside the body, the final vein snapping off with a sickening pop.

Its mouth opened.  God, please, no.  And the teeth closed around the flesh, tearing through the soggy, metallic mess. I tasted it in its teeth, my teeth. I felt it as it slid down its throat, my throat.  And I watched it fall through the gnarled cracks of my body, landing on the sidewalk and oozing out its remaining green blood.

When the ghastly skeleton had its full, it flew upwards into the sky.  The wings beat like hummingbirds, but silent.  Fast and furious, it flew through trees, barely dodging leaves.  If I could throw up, I would.  And then its eyes would land on something else, another creature to mangle, and off we would go.

Being trapped in a gremlin’s body with no control, seeing all the awful things it eats… or rather, doesn’t with all the cracks and holes in its body… feeling everything, tasting it all.  This was hell, and I could only assume that I was a doomed and lost soul.

--------------
This prompt was created by Bliss Morgan who does "Nightmare Fuel" (aka "Write Terrible Things with Me").  She does one every single day - and I have, sadly, been unable to keep up between work and editing and my brand new PS3 (darn those video games).  This this image struck me, so I had to.

Also, I have a giveaway for Lauren Oliver's Before I Fall.  Check it out!

The Bait

It was walking towards me, slow staggering and jittery, just like the rest of them.  Clothes barely still on its body, blood dripping from all parts of its face.  This one had been in a few fights, with parts of its flesh ripped to the bone.  It was limping, but most of them do that as they lose more muscular mass.  It wasn’t long for the virus to eat away at its victim, but it also only took one piece of blood for it to be spread.  You never wanted to be near one of them when you killed them – any molecule that found its way into your nasal cavity, and that was it.  It was masks on at all times in close range – it was masks on most of the time.  Luckily, it never was really airborne, it was just the spray, the spray of blood at close range.

I was the bait, which I didn’t really mind any more.  I wasn’t a good shot, but that was the whole point of this.  It was practice, a just in case things got worse, which they always did after a time.  So I waited at a distance, watching the creature, looking out for others that might be lurking, and I sat.  I listened, I felt the earth for any vibrations, and most of all I just allowed the wind to do what it did best – carry my scent.

You could always tell once they figured out you were there.  Something in their eyes changed, it went from dead to desire.  But that was it, that was the only thing we saw from these creatures.  They were dead, and then they wanted nothing more than to eat.  That’s why none of us felt bad.  It was us or them, and frankly, I wasn’t going to die.  It’s nostrils flared, as much as a rotting corpse can flair, and it sulked towards me.  They couldn’t really do more than that, but when there was a lot of them, it made it hard to get away – they could surround you, slowly, if you weren’t paying attention.

I let it pull its legs a few more feet towards me, the right one jittering a little too much for it to stand up straight.  Its arms stretched out, watching me with an unknowing stare.  It was just like all the rest, hungry.  I started walking back towards the campsite, up the hill, into the setting sun.  It was hard to believe that the world had changed so much when you looked at the sky – it all looked the same, as if nothing ever happened.  The world really does go on with or without you.

I checked behind me and it was still walking towards me, but slower, its eyes lowering losing the smell of me.  Everyone thought that they could smell really well, but really they just wandered until they were within range to smell you.  That’s what was so dangerous, they didn’t have a migratory path or a reason for where they went.  They traveled at random, roamed the hills, the cities, until they either died or found someone to eat.  But they all died eventually.

Scrambling up the hill, I caught sight of my dad.  I nodded at him and he gave me a nod back, that meant I had gotten it into range.  Now, it was target practice.

I moved up to the tower we had made from old car parts and sandbags, it wasn’t anything glorious but it gave us a good viewpoint of the bottom of the hill – where the highway used to be, now just a dead lot of cars.  He moved aside and let me take the rifle from his hands, I looked through the viewfinder.  Sure enough, it was in range alright.

“Now remember the kickback, be prepared, we don’t want you falling again.”  My father braced himself behind me, just in case.

I watched it for a moment, waiting for the right time to get it directly in the head.  Without shooting the brain, you were likely to leave it alive, a bear trap of sorts for any unknowing survivor.  I saw it search the hillside one last time before moving back the way it came.  It moved down the hill, then back up, then to the side.  The sunlight caught something on its face, something I had never seen before.

“Dad?”  He grunted in response.  “I think it’s crying.”  Wetness had swept across the creature’s face, nothing like this had ever happened before.

He snatched the rifle out of my hands and looked for himself.  Without a moment’s pause there was a silenced pop of the rifle and I saw the body crumble to the ground, its head splitting open, spilling its pink, red, virus covered brain onto the pavement.

“Those are no tears, none that you and I ever feel.  Get it right next time.”  My father shoved the rifle back into my hands and jumped down off the tower.  He marched away towards camp.  I looked through the viewfinder one more time at the creature, its eyes open staring distantly away.  I know there was no room for error in a world like this – but what if we had it all wrong?

The Hunt

The smell…  here?  Is it here?  No… Where?  Smell it.  Breathe.  Grunt, move forward.  Legs stiff, arms jittery.  Was it like this… always?  Smell, right.  Go right.  Right foot.  Left foot.  Go, move, smell it.  Breathe.  The twitching came first.  Eyes rolling, all fuzzy.  Then, just the smell, overwhelming, powerful.  Must follow.  Must find.  Must eat.

Don’t remember before smell.  Before hunger.  Only dark.  Some shadows, blurry faces.  Some thoughts.  Remember feelings, but don’t.  Where they go?  The smell.  Overpowers else.  Right foot, left foot.  Don’t remember walking.  Hard, everything sticks.  Cells broken, unsent messages.  Right foot, left foot.  Follow smell.  Ahead, further, hungry.  Push, thud, drag, push.  Ahead.  See?  Eyes fuzzy.  Arms raise.  Right foot, left foot.  Smell, food, hunger, hungry.  Need, want.  Desire.  Eyes focus.  Smell.  Silhouette.  Walking food.  No, running food.  Smell fainter.  Food running.  Eyes unfocus.  Cannot see.  Smell goes.  Hunger.

Sigh, if can.  Unsure.  One feeling, no, two feelings.  Hunger, emptiness.  Almost like, remember, sorrow.  Disappointment.  Remember, one moment, confusion, lost.  Realize change.  Realize hunger.  Hunger for people, walk for hunger, live for hunger.  Remember bite, biting, ripping.  Remember family.  Eyes blurrier.  Wet face, hot face.  Smell, my smell.  My smell spilling out.  Fading, blackness.  My smell on pavement, shattered, broken, like one memory.

----------
This is dedicated to my sister - she gave me the idea, sort of.  Anyway, she told me to write about the zombie Apocalypse, and I feel like that's overdone... and that I probably couldn't write it as well as I would want to - either that or I would find my inner Palahniuk and write so graphically that I make people vomit.  You know, either way.  Tomorrow I'll be posting from the other perspective, of the "running food."

Real Faces of Evil

          Twigs cracked underneath my feet, I could swear I was going fast enough to fly.  My heartbeat swelled in my head and drowned out my heavy breathing.  If I gasped any more, my chest would explode.  My pants ripped on the underbrush.  I could smell him, he was getting closer.  Fuck.

          I pulled a branch back and snapped it behind me.  I heard some indistinct yelling so close, but it felt so far away.  He really was that close to me.  The lake house was about a half a mile away.  I had no idea if my body was going to let me continue at this pace, but I had to try.  I had to get there.

          The wind had picked up and my eyes started watering down my cheeks.  I didn’t have time in my frantic haze to tell if I was actually crying, or if it really was just the wind.  My shoe got caught on something and flipped off into the dark.  The next step down had my leg jolt with a searing pain, something had lodged itself in between my toes.  I looked down just long enough to see blood pooling around the stick that was protruding out.  I wanted to vomit, but shook the image out of my head.  I continued to run, as fast as my limp filled run would take me. 

          “Erica!”

          “Shut up!”

          “Just freaking stop!”

          “No!”

          I looked behind me to see if I could make him out.  He might even be up in the trees, I had no idea.  I just wanted to get out of the forest.  My head was pounding from the last two mile run, I could barely make out anything in the dark.  I saw the lake house up ahead, it wasn’t that much farther.

          “Erica, don’t you dare!”

          “Just stay away from me!”

          The pain was getting increasingly worse, and the limp was ruining my pace even more.  He was going to catch me, this much I was sure of.  Though, every time I looked for him, he wasn’t anywhere.  It seemed like his voice was coming from all over the woods, and I couldn’t pinpoint the sound.  I couldn’t shake the picture out of my head.  Those dark eyes, the deafening silence after he changed.  The anger the loomed behind every sense of his being.  The romantic side of me thought that maybe this was just the mysterious part that ever girl dreamed of.  But I quickly reminded myself that this wasn’t a blockbuster movie, this was my life – and this wasn’t a mystery.  It was as clear as day, but as dark as night.

          I pounded my feet up the porch steps and reached to open the door – we never kept the porch door locked, but now there was good reason to.  I gasped as gnarled hands curled around mine and I was face to face with Victor.

          “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.”  I tried to shake him off, but it was useless.

          “It took you long enough to get here.”

          “Well, if you don’t mind, you can just go home, okay?  Just get out.”

          “You know,” he leaned into me.  I could smell that musky smell, the smell I never was able to place before now.  “I’m not like them, I don’t need an invitation inside.”  I shifted under him.

          “Look,” he released my hand.  “Can we just talk?”  I shook my head, speechless.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of his.  The darkness, the emptiness, all of it I had never seen in true color before tonight.  His quickness to get angry with me, I thought we were just going to another one of those semi-abusive couples that really do love each other.  But no, nope.  I had to go and fall in love with a stupid freaking… do I dare even say it?  Do I dare even admit to myself how deeply in danger I am?

          I winced.  The pain in my foot was finally catching up to me and I leaned on the glass door for support.

          “Erica…”  He looked at my foot and to the look at my face.  His hands melded back into their regular form, the still rough looking, but ever so much more pleasant to look at hands that I had held many nights before.  I started crying.  He lifted my foot up, and I bit my lip, instinctively pulling away from him.  “What on earth did you do?”

          “I don’t…”  I lost my footing and slumped over on Vincent.  “This doesn’t mean…”

          “I know, love, I know.”  He lifted me up and carried me into the lake house.  “But right now, we need to get this stick out of your toe.  I mean, this is really disgusting.”

          “Says the guy that looks gross thirty percent of his life.”

          “More like twenty, and I don’t think it’s that gross.  Is it?”

          “It’s fowl.”  I nuzzled my head into his shoulder.  “It’s disgusting, it’s horrific, it’s horrible, and I can’t believe I’m still in love with you.”  This was me, and my boyfriend.  My disgusting werewolf of a boyfriend.  Oh, I know that you’ve seen on those movies – the nice fur, the warmth.  But no, this was some horrible half-man, lanky kind of creature with gnarled, worn limps that looked so ferocious that you wanted to run the opposite direction.  There was nothing romantic about his shape shifting.  It was scary.  And that’s why I ran blindly into the night – I was terrified of him.  And I wasn’t sure that anything would be the same, but I was sure happy to not be stepping on my foot anymore.

-----

I don't typically write science fiction - I always find that most of those stories fall flat after a point.  Not other authors, I think some people have done a great job at creative fantasy works - but I don't have that kind of skill in my writer's box.  But it's fun to experiment with shorts every once and awhile.  If you're looking for a great Science Fiction read, check out Brom's The Child Thief.  It is the evil side of Peter Pan - and yes, it's wicked cool.