[Long Walk]
Volume Starter “It was always me. Ever since I was little, the problem with me being around other people was caused because of my actions rather than theirs. You could say I was…and probably still am a pretty-shy man. It was always hard to find someone to play with in the playground, not to mention finding friends was a bummer thanks to my awkward social skills, yet that did not stop me from trying to be better and be like the “normal kids” that would just come up to you and immediately start a conversation. My mother would always brag I did not really talk much, but in reality, I was always waiting for the topic to flow so I can either get in it, or just listen to it. I could never initiate a friendly chat with no one, almost not even with my family, the ones I could talk with, and not be judged…that much. Now combine this and add a few decades of constant mind bending about what to do, thinking what is wrong and what is right and you get me in the present. An overly complicated person who tries to outperform his mind by wrestling his thoughts and making something that should not be overthought, way too complex, which eventually makes it harder for me to understand. Are you with me? If not, that is completely fine; I am not with me either. I am just writing this in the state I am, to somehow portray myself in my final moments of sanity, I guess. Now, with all this in mind, you could probably guess how easy is for me to find myself a partner in life? Yep it is a breeze…a literal one. Always getting the cold shoulder from anyone I try to speak with. Even if I make it to the part where we can converse, it all pretty much dies sooner or later because of my insufferable need to make myself too clear instead of relaxing. I am sorry. Nothing I can do to change that. But yet, imagine. I find I woman I find attractive, and I am too scared to talk with her because of my mind that constantly buffers me and tells me how boring and uncool I am. Still thought, I get the courage to talk, and we do…we talk a lot. The conversations flow out in a manner that is unknown to me because I have not experienced a normal chat in ages. And this woman, might I say very attractive and real in terms of mindset, understands what I am saying, she gets me. Nevertheless, here it comes again. When it is time, and I subconsciously know it is, to take her out and have a date, I get frighten by my past denials, so I do not to anything. I let the moment die, and when I eventually get the courage to ask the important question, the woman has moved on, and has left me to suffer in my endless mind twisting cycle of a life that does not seem to want me to have a fucking break. At the end of the day, the only person I can be mad at is me. And now, we are finally at the moment where I am. The city park in the outskirts of the urban traffic lights and cars and buildings. I came here because I always liked the atmosphere around this place. It always gave me a pleasure of hearing nature in its most beautiful state…the natural untouched state of bliss. I entered pass the gates, and was welcomed by a single stand of goodies. It was understandable. Winter was still on us, and having to be in the cold outside selling stuff is always hard for people. An old woman with fingerless gloves was sitting by a small handmade stool and was looking at me with the hope I buy something from her poorly assembled stand. Three bottles of water, three packs of sunflower seeds, and three packs of some popping candy if a kid might pass by. -Ain’t it a lil’ bit cold here for a walk? – asked the woman, covering half her face with an old looking scarf. I nodded, feeling my own comfy scarf covering my neck from the outside winds. -It is, but I wanted to have a walk, - I replied and took one of the bottles with water and one of the packs of seeds. I raised them in a gesture to ask how much I had to give, and she replied showing me two fingers. I took two of my bigger coins in my wallet and placed them in a small card box cutout. There were not many coins in it…and that saddened me. A woman of this age, being here and having to suffer the cold was just not right. She thanked me and pointed out a road besides the main one. -If you are lookin’ for a longer walk, you had better check this one out, you know? It leads to the same big grass field as the normal one…but I guess for my old bones it feels easier to walk around when there are not that many people here, you know? – She said and tightened the brown beanie she had, making her eyes the only thing visible. I nodded listening to her and noted in my mind that I should take the other way instead of the main one. -Say, are you here alone? – She continued the chat. I nodded again…not feeling like revisiting the recent tragedy of my own downfall. -Ah…but yer a decent ol’ chap you are! I dun know how you ain’t have a lady just yet?! - She exclaimed and shook her head as if being in denial. -It happens, do not worry about it! – I said feeling a little bit flustered since I did put some lotion in my hair today, and waved for a goodbye, knowing she would probably go to her place once the sun sets. As I walked further away from the stand, I could feel her curious gaze locked upon my back, but I did not want to further instigate this conversation…something that I would always avoid, talking about my life with others. As if it was not hard, enough to even think about it when I was alone. I did not need the bonus anxiety of sharing details about my life with a person I had just met. Instead, what I wanted was in front of me. The side road she had mentioned was spreading towards me this very instant. It was covered in moss by the sides of the once paved ground, but through the small cavities, little patches of grass had managed to spurt up and move some of the previously laid tiles. It felt natural, and that was all that my soul needed at this point. To be relaxed in this interesting new road I was walking on. It kind of curved and took a turn through the more woody area of the park, which was even better. The path was surrounded at both sides by trees that almost reached up to thirty meters. Huge ones…big ones. Probably during the summer, one could see them in their full beauty. Once their leaves are bloomed among the large amount of branches and the odor of freshness hits someone’s nostrils…you know that nature is alive. Nature was still alive here, but it was sleeping, for the branches looked sad and naked without the leaves covering the body. They even felt cold, as a layer of thin ice covered the surface of the stem, all the way to the upper branches, where it seemed most cold. Smiling I continued walking and aimlessly looking around to see other nuances I found interesting. I got to a point where the round narrowed a bit, and led further in the forest. As the woman said, both roads led to the same grassy field on which many kids and occasionally adults would come around to chill at. Some would play there too it was great, for sports. I was not in a hurry to get there however. I was taking my sweet time, as the sun had begun to redden the sky with its twilight pattern. Looking at the sky, I glanced a bit in front of me and saw the old bench, paved into the path a long-long time ago, where people did not have to worry so much. I looked at the individually placed planks and the even amounts of nails used to create this resting place. My mind immediately traveled to an imaginary scenario of the day it was constructed specifically for this very place here. It imagined the two man sweating before the summer sun and trying to finish as quickly as possible so they could light a much needed cigarette and order a fresh cold beverage from the booth besides the entrance of the park. My lips formed into a smile by the thought of that very imagined scenario, as I placed on the seeds between my teeth. I crunched it; carefully removed the shell and started chewing the nut inside the sunflower seed. It was good. I continued this process until I could barely see the suns horizon. Thankfully, there was a waste bin besides the bench, which served as a great spot for me to throw away the shells of the seeds in. I was not going to spit them away on the ground as other degenerates are doing. Deciding to continue my walk I once again started walking forward, energized by the seeds and refreshed by the big sip of water I took just a moment ago, I was ready to feel the sensations of walking alone in the forest. As I descended beyond the trees, whose branches looked like as if hands were trying to get me, I felt this interesting wave of excitement for it had never really crossed this place while alone. It was odd to say the least. As if there was nothing here besides the small creatures of the woods, void of sound and me, walking aimlessly in the direction of a big field. For some reason I felt all right, I felt at home, it was not frightening at all, on the contrary. I felt like I wanted to be here every day, all the time, without having to bother explaining why I am not supported by a partner in my life. Without having to worry how much will of my slowly fading life will I exhaust the next day at work. I would not have to worry about my boss constantly yelling at me for some bullshit I was not even aware of. No. I could just be here, walking further and further in the seemingly dark forest, filled with nothing but life. The sounds were beginning to fill my eardrums now. The small cracks of a little squirrel stepping on small sticks, looking for acorns. The wild cats, running or hunting a mouse or a little birdie that flew too close. The occasional cricket, signaling its spot somewhere near me. The sound of a wing, rapidly waving in place as a moth is looking for the forbidden light of the sun again. The once void scene was now colorful with all kind of noises. And I was happy. To be here, to walk here…to…hurt here. Because eventually, life finds a way to spoil your celebratory mood, and remind you that, you are nothing more, than a obeying citizen of this world…and you have things, obligations, chores and what else not to do. Even when I made it to the big open wide field, filled with nothing but mud and a very thin layer of snow I liked it, because it was real. Nothing besides this was real. Not my job, not my pay, not even I was real with me. For Christ’s sake, I was not even okay with my own self but did not have the guts to change myself. I could only run. From myself, from my family, from my almost relationships, from my friendships…from everything. Running towards the only thing, I wanted. Happiness. Was I happy now, having reached the summit of my walk, the end to this small little journey? Yes. Was I sad, now that I had to turn around, leave all this behind until next week, where I could visit again for a few hours, just like today and reminisce of the good time I had, only to get pushed back to reality and go back to the thing that makes me miserable? Yes I was. Yes I am. In addition, I cannot do anything, hence why I am writing this down. To the tiniest detail, I can remember from this trip. “Why am I doing this?” – Someone may ask. Because I do not know what to do… - I wrote down and looked ahead at the field. It is filled with nothing, but this very thing makes me extremely interested in continuing to feel the way I am feeling right now. I can feel another smile making its way to my lips as I begin to understand what to do. And I go for it!” The man dropped the notebook on the ground, stepped in the muddy field of snow and dirt, and continued walking ahead, towards the unknown, towards his happy place. The only thing he could think of was a quote he heard somewhere. It was a little bit like this. “Sometimes, a nightmare might not be a dream, or a monster. It could be a place, a person, or a life. We can just move away from one, wake up and continue our day, but in the real world…we can only dream, for dreams help us escape the reality.” With that in mind. And a smile on his face…he walked…ahead, continuing his trip, elongating it a bit, or a lot. Today, he was going to have one long-long walk. [Itch] He wanted to get it over with…but nothing was happening. Everything seemed like it was moving in slow motion, not letting him breathe normally, not letting him sleep normally. Nothing was going his way. The sickness that had gripped him the last time he was in the hospital corridor was nothing compared to the illness he had right now. Could he even call it that though? It was more or so a grip on his throat…an itch that was growing and somehow spreading through his insides, and hurting him with each passing day. At the start of it, he did not mind, for he did not know what was going to happen. He brushed it off, figuring it was not much of a deal, considering this had happened before, and it would usually just disappear. Yet, it did not. The virus or whatever he was sick of; was not letting go. Even with the intense doses of herbal tea, the itch continued bugging him. It was making it hard to drink liquids, eat foods, or even normally breathe without causing him immense annoyance at the current state it was in. As if a hair was stuck, petrified in some way to the inside wall of his throat. During work, it was the itch that kept him from talking, because it was hurting as he did so. When he was not, it would constantly make him swallow his saliva just because it was frustrating enough, and the man needed to know if it was still there. It was. It was there even when he was sleeping, when he was working, when he was eating, drinking, resting…it was constantly there. Which was why he was standing in the cold entranceway of the hospital wing, waiting in line for his personal doctor to bring him in his office, and deal with this situation. Yet, the amount of people in front of him were too much. He was not much of a people’s person, so he opted to stay silent, wait and be quiet. As much as he wished for the others to follow in his example though, people were different, everyone is. Hence why it made him annoyed seeing how others were trying to get in front of the lines, make their way closer to the closed off gate which lead to the other corridor, with the three doors that spread-out across it, marking all three personal doctors. It was made like that to secure the safety of others, preventing them from entering the main lobby and waiting on the benches like normal people, instead of waiting outside of the front section of the building. Whoever thought of that, surely knew that even if they were in the lobby, sitting on the benches it would be the same as they were standing now, shoulder to shoulder, waiting in the line. People were sneezing, coughing, and wiping their snot from their nose with the back of their hands, as before noted, standing too close to each other. Matt, the person with the itch was aware that this system was pure bullshit, but did not have a choice. He had to see the doctor, and keep himself in check before doing so. Keeping away from the ones that did not follow a personal etiquette was the best option, and worst one as well. It was worse because by the time, the med sister finally showed up to bring him through the lobby and then by the corridor with the doctor’s offices, his throat was rumbling with pain. The doc checked his throat, in the light of his hanged up lamp. Noted the color of his tongue and advised him to drink more water, and maybe get a pack of menthols. By his words, Matt did not have any signs of his throat area being infected or even red in the matter of being in pain. The young man was barely holding himself, trying not to explode upon the man and call this whole ordeal bullshit, yet he somehow managed to keep himself in check, take the prescribed herbal tea referral and leave the hospital as soon as possible. Not wasting time he furiously entered the pharmacy, bought the needed stuff from the referral and rushed back home. The first thing he did…was to unwrap a menthol, with the brand of “Little Onions” and greedily put it in his mouth to savor. At first, it did not seem as if something was happening, but then…just as the itch was getting even more of a bother, the miracle happened. It…ceased. It was not completely gone as he hoped for, but it was not there anymore, which was the good part. That night, he managed to keep a menthol without completely dissolving for more than an hour. It was helping him, curing him! Someway, somehow, it was doing what the rest of the things he tried did not. Matt was soo happy he could jump in the air and not worry about a thing. Menthol after menthol, the “Little Onions” started to drop in amounts in the packaging. Little candy like marbles, thinning with every hour, healing him. He was feeling good, smiling and enjoying a movie. When it came time to place another menthol after the last one had dissolved however, the packaging was empty. Matt frantically ran his fingers through the entire bag, but there was just no more left. And just as that thought occurred in his mind, the very concept of him not having menthols, activated the itch again. Yet, this time it was hungrier. It was twisting in his throat like a roach of a spider trying to climb a slippery wall, each time digging deeper and deeper into the inside walls of his trachea. The burning through the entire surface was driving the man crazy. Coughing and spitting did not work. It was only getting even more serious. He boiled tea, with the final amounts of patience he had, but drinking the warm substance to the point where it was almost burning did not help as well. It only made it worse. Made it so that he could no longer feel anything else but the itch. The itch and the itch and that was it. His thoughts brought him back to the idea of going outside and grabbing some more menthols from the store, but it would only worsen his condition for the store was a fifteen minute drive from his house, and surely he could not take the pressure of driving there, with the itch constantly spreading and worsening. He had to take measures into his own hands…and end it here. Already in the kitchen, Matt did not hesitate, not even one bit. If it meant that the thing cursing him would stop, it did not matter what he did to himself. Grabbing the closest knife and tucking it under the spot, it burned the most he swiftly started cutting. The edge dig in the skin and tissue, spreading it like butter. Matt did not mind the blood that erratically started flowing out of him. He had to cut deeper with the knife, reach the spot and erase it. The pain was beginning to subside…yet his strength as well. It felt as if, with each moment when he was forcing the knife upon his neck, breaking every boundary of humanity, the itch was dying…and so was he. The sharp blade finally reached the spot he needed, and he forced the knife in through the back of his neck…killing the itch. Killing the pain that had entrapped him for the longest of time. His body finally bled out, leaving his skin almost ghostly white. It fell soundly on the floor, but he did not mind, in those last moments where he was still conscious and barely breathing. He did not mind, for he had killed the itch, and along with it, himself. [Sleep Paralysis] I used to like sleeping. It was a way for my soul to escape from its bounds, travel through another realm of possibilities, and help me cope with the reality I lived in. Yet, as of late, I cannot seem to maintain a proper amount of good sleep. Keeping track of myself I used the app I had connected with my bracelet that could calculate the amount of sleep and deep sleep I had. It was regular for a person to have up to two or three hours of deep sleep, whilst I did not have any. I barely even had the bare minimum of the regular one, and that was beginning to scare me. Not only i was not able to focus in school, nor was I able to be productive during the days. I asked my mom about it, but she brushed it off rather quickly, saying it was not much of a big deal and that I was probably overtired to even rest well. That was odd, but i could not defy my mother who did everything for me. I would go to school, talk with people and try to be normal again but it did not work. Not at all. It was hard for me to even stay wake waiting for the bus, let alone stay staring at the white board of a boring class. I was a complete wreck. I could only be able to take a short nap during the periods between classes and it was almost impossible thanks to the constant ruckus during the rooms. It got worse when we entered the winter break. I did not have to go to school, but I still had problems sleeping. I would wake up at night and...My body would be unable to move. My heart would race as my sweat covered my whole body. It was terrifying to feel this way. The thing that...made it even more worse was the creature in my room. It would stand there, and not allow me to fall asleep. It did not have any features, it was just a black creature, staring at me and slowly getting closers each time I attempted to close my eyes. One time it got so close its hand was almost able to touch me. It felt as if I let it happen, it would devour me as if I was nothing. I just knew I had to do something, anything. I could not let this go on for more, because i was losing my sanity. Mother refused to believe me and accused me of playing video games all night. That itself was outrageous because I did not even like playing, but this was getting out of hand. I decided to take this into my own hands and stop this constant thing. I barely even got to the pharmacy, but I was able to buy some high effective sleeping pills. I was going to this one way or the other. For this to actually work I had to get some sleep before trying out the thing I had in mind. Thankfully, the house was empty and I had it for myself the entire day. Taking one pill, I slept the entire afternoon and did not even notice when mother had gotten back from work. She scolded me for that, but at this point, it did not matter if she was angry or not. It was for my own good. It is safe to say i felt amazing after the good nap I took. My body actually felt relieved to feel energized. That meant that it was not my fault that I could not sleep in the night. More or less, I was going to figure out what was causing the sleep paralysis. During the evening time when mother was watching her favorite series on the TV, I was on my phone and was setting up a recording app that would capture everything during the night and make sure I was safe. I told mother I was about to head to bed, when she stopped me and told me to wait until she prepares the milk she would always make me before bed. I was getting tired of that stupid ritual she would do for me ever since I was a kid, but the more I stayed put and did not annoy her, the better. As she was preparing the milk though. I noticed something. The ingredient she was using to mix everything was different. It was usually sugar, but now, as I was waiting I could see it was very peculiar, in a way that she had to crush it with the handle of the knife to actually make it look like powder. She threw the powder that was stirred and began swiftly mixing the whole drink until there was nothing left, but milk. As she turned to face me, she had a very bored expression on herself. "Drink up!" - She ordered and I obliged. I was not going to actually drink it however. She turned away and I poured most of it in the sink while she was not looking and spat the rest I had drank earlier. Whatever she put in the milk was no longer going to work on me…or I think at least. I did not want to assume she was the one doing this to me, but if she was…it would be a really bad motherly deed to do. Thinking about that I rushed back to my room, changed into my pajamas and laid on the bed, covering myself with the warm and puffy blanket. The rest that followed I only recall when I checked the recording camera, set up in the corner of the room, at an angle it could reveal the whole room. The following morning, shaking in pain and shock I checked the cam and was horrified to see the footage. It showed me sleeping, while a creature, or so I thought, suddenly emerged from the shadows and entered the room. It or I should say, she, was holding one of the big kitchen knives. I was fast asleep thanks to the sleeping pills…so much so I was not able to bother to react to the taunts of the thing that used to be a loving person. I did not know why she was doing what she was doing, but I guess she was either aware of it, or completely dozed off. The thing that made me decipher what it was, was the action she did. My own mother, started pulling away my blanked, and began cutting my pajama in an attempt to get to my legs. She began scratching, and biting my leg, but I did not budge, fallen in the realm of dreams harder than a rock hitting the bottom. I could see she was agitated as she ran the entirety of the knife through my leg, piercing it with such force she stabbed it me, to the handle. She then leaves the room and leaves me sleeping “peacefully” with a knife sticking out of my upper leg. I woke up in pain due to the sharp metal utensil still stuck in me, bleeding me out slowly. Pissed off I started reviewing the footage and got to the point where I see what has happened. “Now, I am writing this in an attempt to reach out to any loved ones left that might be able to receive this letter. I do not know the reasoning behind mother’s actions, but I am going to soon find out. I shall take the knife she left in me, and if it has to get to the point where I have to use it…I will. Secondly, if you are reading this letter, then I really did kill my mother. I will probably be jailed prematurely due to the first-degree murder laws and forced to live in prison for the entirety or more than half my life. In the end of the day, it does not really matter what happens. All I know is I want to know what my mother did to me, and why she did it. I am now heading downstairs.” [Drinks] The bar had one too many glasses turned over. There was still a little bit leftover gin still hanging on the surface of the glasses. For the longest of time, Kurt was happy not having to drink, but this time, this time it was different not to. He gave it up a little over a year ago and ever since then he would not even touch it. This all collapsed the second he found out the good news. Good for some, bad for him. It was not that bad to be honest, but it was still incredibly hard for him to begin to comprehend the importance of the news. He was going to be a father. At this point, a normal person would be glad, overjoyed with emotions and whatnot. However, for him, the second bit of the news was more important. Because his girlfriend of five years said, it was not his. The child in her was not his. Then how was he the father? Asking her that, she confessed...to having an affair with his best friend. One "friend" he was. From that point on, Kurt was not the same. He unleashed the pent up need to down a few shots. Nevertheless, not only a few ones, he wanted to drink all the alcohol he could get his hands on. The scary part was that he was still thirsty. His body was not feeling the effects of the beverages, because his anger was not letting him go down. At first, it was depression, the grief, then frustration, followed by anger...and finally he was madly enraged. "The five stages of the drunk“, one could call it. He did not care however. The only thing that mattered was the fact that he was left to handle and process this information alone, not being allowed to even be happy about the news, because frankly, how could he? -How could she!? - He exclaimed yelling in the empty bar. It was already getting past five, the time when the regular costumers came in, yet he had downed more than twenty shots. There was still a little bit left in the bottle he was hoarding. He was set on finishing this, if it was the last thing he did. Plus, there was nothing more he could do. His job...was nonexistent. He only worked on making his house, the one he managed to build himself and do chores around it. The one working was Beth, his ex. Yes, ex. He dumped her the moment when she told him about what has been going around him. Probably not the best way to end things, but he was way too tired of being used by people. Kurt only wanted to share his love, while in return he was being fucked over, literally. Now, as he was sitting on the long stools around the bar, Kurt was trying desperately to empty out the remaining liquid out of the bottle, but it just did not seem to go down. -Maybe you should relax for a bit. You have had many drinks - suggested the barman, an old townsfolk who owned the establishment ever since Kurt was five. The white-haired man, attempted to take the bottle of gin away from him. Kurt smacked his hand and looked at him, with red-ish eyes. Both from tears and too much alcohol. -How about you back the fuck out! (hiccup) and mind ya own business! (hiccup) - managed to stutter the man. Kurt backed away and stood from his place, offended the man wanted to take away the only thing that was making happy. His feet were unstable, yet he still managed to walk out of the establishment and leave with the bottle of gun still in hand. Right as he did though, someone else appeared. Someone he knew way to close. -Andrew? - He asked, as in trying to confirm to himself. Then he spat in his face. In the face of his once best friend. He looked probably as devastated as Kurt, judging by the unwashed hair and the nervous sweat marks around his pits. Andrew wiped his face with the side of his blue jacket and then moved a strand of his long dark hair away. Kurt himself combed back his and gazed upon him...all three of his silhouettes. -You ruined my life, you know?! (hiccup). I was supposed to merry Beth, not have to see you be the husband next to her. (hiccup). Fuuuuck you! - yelled the man, too drunken to even distinguish a night fly from a UFO. Andrew did not know how to react. He was as sad as him, having to betray him like that. Yet he did it...he betrayed him and he was going to be hated for it. -It was a big mistake, please believe me man! - tried saying the cheating man but he got shut down rather quick. Kurt landed a left jab and hit him straight in the jaw, sending him flying to the ground. He did not even have the time to recover when the drunk kneed him in the ribs and continued bashing his head with strikes. He even used the bottle, which broke on his head. -Please! - managed to plead the downed man, but Kurt was brutal and out of mercy. Without thinking normally, he turned the broken bottle around, exposing the sharp ends of the shattered edges, and stomped it in his head, stabbing him almost completely and rendering him...dead on the spot. The broken pieces had entered his brain, pierced his skull and killed him. Kurt rose once again...almost fell and smirked. It felt good. It felt awfully nice to take revenge on the man who ruined you future and gave your loved one a child. He desired one so badly...yet this sorry prick stabbed him in the back, figuratively, while he stabbed him in the head, literally. Guess, which felt better? -Go to hell! - screamed Kurt and kicked him one last time. He was breathing slowly...feeling the alcohol turning him into something he used to be. He used to be an animal who did not feel for anyone nor cared for anything. Becoming an animal once again was his prime goal. His next set task to handle. He smirked again while looking around. There were barely any people out, but there was going to be later, so he had to move. Had to go somewhere...someplace where he can finish this job he started. Oh, yes. He was going to finish everyone. He started walking in her direction. He knew where she lived now. He kicked her out. His drunken state started slowly walking in that direction. He knew he had to get there quick, before someone finds the body and calls the police on him. It was only a matter of time. Yet, he did not care if they found him. He was going to have his vengeance, even if it meant he was going to go prison for it. Or was he? Who knew? This whole ordeal was caused by the gin in his veins, controlling him and telling him where to go and what to do. That...and a little bit of himself mixed in. He was going to walk there, to her house and...and what? What was he going to do exactly? "Revenge!" - echoed a voice in his head. Yes. That was what he was going to do. Make her pay for everything, make her pay for being a whore. Make her regret ever fucking another guy and getting pregnant by him. He was going to follow through on his plan. Yet, he needed another dose of motivation. In his innards pocket of the jacket he wore, was a flask, with just a sip of gin left. He was just going to influence himself a bit more before he goes inside the house, and kills her…her and the baby in her. He was just going to have another drink, for the good old times. [Lightning] It was raining yet in the pub, it was joyful. All the folk in there were having a good time after their favorite soccer team had won the biggest tournament in the history of soccer, which meant that every single person in the small building was laughing, dancing and singing the anthem of their city. Robby was not an exception to this. The young adult was a fan of sports his whole life, and celebrating this big win was something he was mandated by his friends to do. They were no longer among the sober folk, lying on the floors and vomiting yet still claiming they are having a good time. Robby was drunk as well, yet he was not feeling the side effects of the booze, and probably was among those people who could drink dozen of liters of alcohol and not get affected by the side effects, and he was taking advantage of it. Out-drinking the local drunks was probably among those side missions in a drunken night stand off, especially after a big win for the city, which had to be experienced. Shot after shot, glass after the glass, the mood was only rising, until no one could still stand. Heck, even the owner of the pub was having a jolly time, knowing the end results and the cash he was going to have, after everyone wakes up of course. Robby, on the other hand, was constructed alternatively. He was still happy, and ready to take on more challengers, yet no one remained. His friends were lone gone in the world of dreams, and he being him, the man decided to call it a good night and end this booze inspired celebration and head home. Paying the tipsy owner, the blonde young man left the building and started walking down the old road leading to the small suburbs town. The rain had stopped, so a walk home was the way for him to go. It was a thirty-minute walk to his neighborhood, so it was not going to hurt him. He was walking straight, without a slight stumble here and there. He was alright. Maybe after ten or fifteen years, his body would not be as resilient as it was now…but the focus here was now, and now…he did not have any trouble. Robby took two short breaks to relieve his bladder and continued walking home. He was about twenty minutes, before he noticed something. The path on which he was walking…started to feel the same. Maybe he was overreacting about it, and the drinks were actually starting to kick in…but he was reluctant in believing he had already seen the sing that signaled for the drives to keep a minimal of thirty-five kilometers on the overall suburban roads. He decided not to think of it as much, and carry on with his walk home. Yet, after ten more minutes, he was clear in insisting to himself that the sign from before was here as well. He knew the place and there was always two sings, from the start and end of the road leading to the town. Maybe he really was drink. -I can help you! – said someone, having a voice of a little girl. That almost made Robby relieve himself again, yet from the other end, but he remained as much as composed as he could be in his state. Turning around, he saw her…a little girl, with a pink dress, and long blond hair. The only thing that did not look normal, besides the girl being there all alone, despite the clear look of a ten year old, was that her skin was awfully pale…and that her eyes, were glossy white. Robby stopped for a second while he was observing the girl. For a split second, he thought he was seeing things, but then she got closer. Oddly enough, her image of her got closer…without her even moving. -I can help you find the exit, but you need to find my body first…it was buried here long ago…and I want to find it. Please help me! – echoed the voice of the girl in the ears of the young adult who was beginning to really freak out. One, he wasn’t going to help a total strange looking like a side character from a ghost movie, and two, he was well aware of his drunken state, even if he wasn’t keen on believing this was an actual ghost. -No…I will not – he heard himself say. Why did he say that though? She was offering help, if he helped her. Was it the liquid in his veins doing this…or was it his own thoughts that pushed him to flat out decline everything. Thinking that, he saw the girl’s eyes widen, and then sadly frown, as her lips formed a big crescent. Her dress started to rot away…as her whole body bloated and started leaking out. Clearly, she was a ghost…one that was dying each night, cursed to find her body and die in peace. Robby was not that brave…so he turned around and attempted to run. -Why don’t people help me? – He managed to hear her ask herself. The very tone in which she asked…was enough to make him cry. The sadness and total sorrow of her premature death was almost as heavy as his fright. She sought salvation…she needed to be free, yet no one was willing to help her. No one. Not even Robby, who was now running, letting the stress of the situation set in, and make him panic. The rain that had stopped earlier was now beginning to form again…or was it just one cloud, simply one black cloud over him that was following him as he ran in the dark road in the foggy night sky. He wished for this to be just a dream, and for him to wake up tomorrow in the same pub he was in…and be free. That is the moment he heard the rumbling…as if the skies tore open and unleashed its fury upon the weak and frail creatures of the land. The electric sensation after the sound exploded onto him…with the lightning bolt hitting its target in the jackpot was mind shatteringly painful. Robby managed to form a single gasp, as the shockwave went through his running body and entered the earth. As his corpse fell…burnt, smoldering with ashes…he was gone. Therefore, was the girl, still seeking her own body. [Playing With Fire] She was cold. Soo very cold. It was devilishly cold outside, there being snow in the down of Christmas day. She had wandered for soo many days, through soo many different places. First, it was warm, then it was a bit chilly, and then it became winter...and the snow came along with the cold. It was probably the hardest thing for her to endure. And she had suffered through a lot. She had to catch wild animals with her tired body and eat them, uncooked and raw. She herself had gone through the hardship of suffering by the people that tortured her, by playing around with her body. If it meant eating raw rabbits and cats so she could roam the free world on her own, then so be it. She would fight and claw her way to make it somewhere. Yet. Her situation at the moment was not colorful. Her skin was almost as white as porcelain and the frostbite was begging to set in. Her face was the only covered thing, having tied the skin of a rabbit to the head. It was keeping her warm, but it was still making every single other muscle in her ache. The sheer icy snow covered ground was entering through her skin and was killing every single warm place imaginable. Walking like this for more than a day was simply impossible and she was foreboding in those woods for more than two days, trying to find a cave or some sort of shelter. If she could not find any...there was nothing stopping her from perishing in this cold hell. Maybe the lingering need to survive was pushing her further and further into the whirlwind of snow and pain. Maybe her will was not yet broken as her abductors thought when they captured her a few months ago. They would beat her, ravage her, humiliate her all day long, inject her body with different kind of drugs, but at the end of the day, her will was not broken. Not yet. Her feet maybe were too tired and bruised. Her arms were freezing yet were gripping her thighs in the attempt to drag her own legs further and further ahead. The amount of power it was needed was unbearable. The strength and guts it took. If she could process it, her mind would be impressed her with feats, but her thoughts that spread out soo much that the only single driving point in her brain was getting there and finding her spot. She had to...either that or death. And just as she thought about how peaceful her death here will be, she climbed a slight bump and her eyes glimpsed upon a light in the distance. It looked like a light from a window. Something in her heart started pumping faster and faster, and now it was bound to happen. Her safety was there. It was always there. She just needed to go and capture it. She tensed up and summoned all of her remaining energy and made a wild dash towards the warm looking light. The cold was no longer a factor. Her desperate state of mind, her need of safety was pushing her without any shackles. The layers of snow shoved away by her brute desire to get to the light was immense. That motion was enough to bring her to the small shack in the middle of the woods. She stopped by the door of it, and glimpsed the light coming from the fireplace. It looked so good and felt so warm without even being close to it. She pulled in the doors handle and it opened. Her heart immediately erupted with joy. Not wasting anymore time standing in the cold the poor beaten girl entered the small shack and ran to the fireplace. There was no need for her to look around. All that mattered was the fire. She nearly jumped in the still lingering flames of the place, but stopped and started furiously rubbing her body. There was a few more logs beside the heating place so she placed one more inside wanting to see the fire grow. And that it did. It rose to a beautiful red and yellow dance. Moving swiftly as the logs smoked and twitched in their dance as harmonic as the warm wrapped the girl. Tears started falling from her eyes, as she was finally safe. Whoever the owner of this place was, she was not going to mind him. She was going to be on her way once the snow was gone. Closing her eyes, she let the warm get to her, as it was gently caressing every place where the cold had gotten to. She was so eager to get heated that she took one of the smoldering parts of the leftover logs and started rubbing her hands with it. Strangely so, it did not feel bad. It was very nice to feel the fire in her hands. A smile covered her almost empty with teeth mouth. A smile filled with hope. A creak then resounded around the place, and her entire body shivered. The owner was here. She almost snapped her neck as she turned around to see him and maybe thank him, but then her heart sank as faster as the snowflakes melt. -Well, well, well...so we have another one, huh? - asked the man she knew well too much. It was one of them. They called him "Skinner". She would wonder why, but as the surroundings got clearer, she began to understand why. The walls were covered in all kind of different women. Their skin that is. The decaying corpses dried up and hanged up on the wall as trophies stared at the poor beaten girl, who knew that there was no escape from this place. She had to fight so much to escape the previous hell, only to come here and jump in the pot of fire. The man grinned, exposing all of his slimy yellow teeth. -Look like we have some work to do! – He said and unzipped a bag in which he carried his trusty kitchen knife. The girl did not even scream or feel afraid. She was happy she found some warmth before her eventual death. Soo happy in fact that her eyes still poured out tears. Soo happy, that her hands continued playing with the smoldering yet diminishing little log. Her hands…still played with fire. [Handy man] This is a memory I remembered in the butcher's shop. An odd place for me to think of that, but nonetheless I had some sort of remembrance that let me to believe what I knew back in the day was very limited in terms of what was good and what was bad. Or what was socially acceptable. I will get to that in a second. What triggered the whole episode of my past was the knife the butcher used to cut me the needed meat I requested. The swung he did before viciously slamming the knife onto the piece of meat was almost the same as the long gone neighbor’s. You see, there was a person. There was this person in my apartment building on the first floor who everyone thought was a nice and pretty chill guy. He would mostly be in his house doing his job of a woodcraftsman. He would sculpt things from wood and then sell them in the local pawnshop. It was the way he was making his money and no one blamed him one bit for it. It was a way for him to practice what he liked and earn money out of a hobby quite frankly not many people dabble in. Anyway. Despite his nature of being a nice guy, there was always something mysterious about him. His long white hair and completely round shaped glasses spelled something i could not decipher then. Now, I only get chills thinking about it. The very thing that made me and my friends suspect him of being somewhat odd was the way he talked about his little shack outside of the building. There was some sort of parking garages next to the building, but apparently, he did not own a car so he had turned his garage into a storage house. Some used it for wood as well, but that did not matter. What did was his warning to us or anyone else when we were close to it. "Don't touch or get close to my garage or I will cut the hand with which you grab the handle! I'm not kidding!" - He would always say. That would later become synonymous with that phrase. And not in a good way. I remember how we were not even close to the given place and he would open his window, since he was livening on the first story and would yell at us for no reason, only given us being slightly closer to his property. However, can you blame kids for trying to make their mundane hours of not having school even more boring establishing even more boundaries for them to follow while trying to play? No. That was not it chief. We were not going to stand for that and soon we decided have a joke with him. One day we were playing ball and were kicking around the garage door. The idea was to kick the ball at one point, as hard as we can and send it flying towards the garage in attempt to cause some noise and ruckus. We just wanted to see his reaction. Either way, we proceeded with the prank and did what we wanted. The ball crashed on the door and it produced a really loud bang that could wake a dead man. Immediately the man showed himself from the balcony, saw us and turned red from anger. His eyes were almost as wide as his glasses at this point and it was safe to assume that we had to get out of there. All four of us separated and started running in different directions. It was pointless because we all lived around the apartment block so at the end of the day we still had to show up there and face his wrath. However, in the mean time we ran. I remember seeing him for a slight second, running at us at full speed, butcher knife in hand and anger in his mind. His warning again flourished in my head as I was trying to catch my breath as I was running. "Don't touch or get close to my garage or I will cut the hand with which you grab the handle! I'm not kidding!". He really was not kidding. I even imagined a different scenario where he cuts our feet with which we were kicking the ball. That made me even more nervous and frighten of the man. The adrenalin already in me evolved into a different being altogether as I furiously ran like hell towards...i do not even know. I was just running. By the time I looked behind me, I was three of four blocks away from the neighborhood. An impressive feat yet I was now scared of going back. What if I was caught by the woodcrafter? What if he cut my hand? I did not want to stay there and feel what it felt to experience it. Yet the very thought of him chasing after me with a butcher's knife was enough to traumatize me for a time. It was resembling a scene from a movie where Leatherface was chasing down people with his chainsaw in Texas. At least it had that vibe. At one point, my phone ran and I picked up only to find out what happened. My mother informed me that the man did indeed catch one of the boys and had smacked him on the cheek. Thankfully, one of the adults in the block saw it and called the police. Little by little, the detectives and law enforcement got to the garage after asking what started it all. They were curious themselves, as were we. When they opened the safe though. They did not tell us what they uncovered but they immediately arrested the man. I do not believe I ever saw him again, but if I did, I imagine he would not recognize me anymore. I lived a long life without knowing what was actually in the garage, but when I remembered the story while I was in the butcher shop I contacted my mother and asked her about it. This was her reply. "Oh sweetie. That horrible man? I did not think you remembered him. Well, you were too young to know then but I guess I will tell you. The police officers found a dozen human hands, neatly cut and placed in a drawer. Some had decayed way too much and were used as a crafting piece. That psycho was making makeshift things from the human bones of little children's hands, can you imagine? Some handy man he was, I wouldn't want to be near him ever again". - She texted, leaving me in a very disturbed state of mind. I definitely did not expect to read that, but I was glad I was safe now, and that lunatic was somewhere in prison, rotting away. Safe to say, the neighborhood was pretty much safe now. Although, just for a countermeasure, I started giving advice to the younger lads to keep away from that infamous garage as much as possible, even though the man was not there anymore. Who knows, the warning might just come in handy. [Smiley] This is not a confession, just the beginning of my diary. My very own world, where I get to write and paint what I am going through. This...is my story. Entry 1. They would always tell me to smile. Regardless of the situation, regardless of anything. Just smile my way through the ups and downs, through the bright moments and the biggest hardships. My mother would always scold me for frowning or being sad. "Remember! Be happy, smile and everything is going to be fine! If you don't smile, the bad times are going to find you and trap you in their net!" - She would say when I was feeling sad. The moments when I was sad were perhaps more than the ones in which I was not though. At kindergarten, they branded me the weird kid when I was constantly smiling while they were announcing a kid had broken its hand. Then at school, when a girl's father passed away yet again I smiled because it is what mother told me to do. Listening to her, I smiled and smiled until I had nothing but myself as a friend. A couple of times I was jumped in the locker room where the boys would beat me up without any mercy for my "crimes". What crimes? I was only smiling. It is what mother told me to say. Told me to do. How could the others understand when they did not have a loving mother? They could not. She would always take me from school and ask me how everything went. Were the lessons easy or not. Was I mocked or beaten or anything. Most of the times the answer consisted of a "yes they did, mother" and "yes I smiled, mother". She would then grab my shoulder, squeeze it and sigh in relief. "Good. You must not let any harm fall upon you by means of mockery and tricks. Continue smiling and your life shall be fine" - She would reply and drive us home. Entry 2. This continued for a long time. High school ended, college passed and the time did as well. All those years I smiled and smiled, through every situation I was in. I smiled when so many different girls broke up with me for being too creepy and constantly smiling. No other young man would want to work with me during projects. The teachers at least were nice and would understand the situation and make it easier for me to learn. In college, at least I was not beaten because I was mostly in my room, and no one could touch me there. It was not until I started working, when I started having problems with the smiling again. My boss would constantly bombard me with insults for not doing my job properly in this roadside small diner. I was a waiter and messing up orders was a given. However, it was not bound to endless mockery by the side of my boss. "You waste of space! You cannot even serve one order without messing something up! Honestly if I wasn't understaffed I would have fired you a thousand times by now!" - He would scream at me as I smiled and nodded my head slowly in an attempt to make him stop. He would not though. He would continue his attempt to make me feel like shit. Yet. I would just smile and not care about it much, or try to make myself think that way. Think that when smiling the bad words and the awful feelings do not exist. They do. They hide beyond my mind, grow and grow until they reach the required size before the circle bursts. And when it finally explodes...that is when the joy of smiling actually helps. The past years and the insults of my boss was the main catalyst for my bubble to collapse. Entry 3. It was one of those slow nights on a Friday where the people were not rushing in the dinner, while instead they were rushing back home from their exhausting jobs. No one was going to spend one to two hours in this place, when they could have dinner at the pleasure of their homes. The bad part was my boss did not understand that part. He was furious about that fact, that every Friday no one was visiting the place after 5pm. Being used to this, I was not impressed so I managed to keep my casual positive attitude despite everything. He did not like that though. Not one bit. -Why are you standing there and smiling there for? Don't you see we don't have any customers, you moron? - asked the boss, adding in his signature insult. -I am just washing the dishes, sir - I replied, literally doing what I had said. Minding my own business, I was splashing, sponging and then drying the porcelain plates and putting them in their corresponding place by size. It was not a hard thing to do. -There is no point in doing that when we don't have any customers! Fuck. You idiot. - He continued barraging and lighted another smoke. I moved onto a pan and started scrubbing out the dirty parts left over from the last cooking and did not mind it. Although I felt something pulsating within my heart. Covering the sponge with some soup, I began doing round movements on the surface of the pan and tried not to listen to his unpleasant yells. If I just did my work and not listen to him, he was either going to stop talking or do something else. To my doom however, he did not leave me alone. -Oii! Didn't you hear me! Why are you washing the dishes!? There is no point in doing it right now! - exclaimed the man and sat up from his spot. I was not even sure what to even say to that stupid question. Why do you eat? Why do you go to the toilet? Why are you washing the dishes? What other reason could there be for that occurrence to happen? I was not trying not to reply with something witty and continued smiling and rubbing the pan a little more intensely. Whoever was going to cook with it afterwards, they were going to have a nice clean pan. - Are you fucking stupid?! - yelled the owner of the dinner getting up to be out of nowhere and slapping the back of my head. It was not a hard slap, for it did not hurt, although it unlocked something sleeping dormant in the back of my mind for the entirety of my mind. The bubble burst! Without any warning, I turned around, pan in hand, and swung. The still wet from the water metal object clashed as hard as I could muster to hit, the head of the owner. His eyes expanded for a sheer second, yellowed from all the smoking, and then his whole fat and rugged body collapsed like a sack of potatoes. My hand did not stop. It continued to swing until his face was barely recognizable. Once bald and a little darkish, it was not beginning to deform. With each hit, the pan dropped some of its crusted edges. With each swing, his face started to resemble that of scrambled eggs. With each hit, I felt more and more happy as my anger, wrath, suffering and sorrow all into one, unleashed into this furious barrage of attacks upon this pathetic human being. What didn't change after this whole exchange was my face expression. A smile. I was smiling from ear to ear. As if I received the best gift imaginable. I was fulfilling my mother's wish from all those years ago. Even in tough and sad situations, I was going to remain smiling. I was going to be happy J. [The Disturbed] It wasn't a good idea to hang outside past the curfew but it was one of those nights where we didn't have anything better to do at home, and being outside with my mate was probably the most interesting thing we could have done. All the younger lads had already started to scatter and go back to their homes, but Stan and I were chilling on the porch of the big complex he lived in front. My block was just a few steps next to his, so if we were to call it a night and go back, we just had to turn around, well he had to, and just head back. Yet we didn't. This was the only time we had for ourselves where we didn't have to worry about school, since it was summer break. We were not going to spend it at our apartments reading books and what not. No. For the entirety of the day, we were doing all kind of stuff. Exploring the city center, then going for a walk outside the neighborhood and fidgeting around. Then by sunset, we decided to visit the city zoo, which was located at the exact opposite side of the city where we were at, but we managed to get there faster once we got out bikes. The zoo however was dropped as an idea and instead we visited the skate park which was conveniently right at the entrance of the premises surrounding the zoo park. Spending our time there, we exhausted our powers, went back to our hood, bought some snacks and decided to chill down and just hangout. It was already passing ten pm by then and as I said, the kids were no longer there to fool around. My parents knew me so they didn't have to worry, we weren't gonna go beyond eleven, so we still had an hour just to do nothing. -I'm glad we are on break! When we have school I have no energy to go anywhere after it! - said Stan, chewing on his chips. I nodded. He was a rather lean character, with shoulder-length black hair and very bushy brows for his age. If he had troubles with keeping his energy for the fun times we had, how was I going to keep up, being slightly more heavier than him. -Tell me about it, when I get back, I only want to lay down and have a nap before going back to my homework. Like! How can we have the time to do something when we have to do homework too, try to remember any lesson or do a side-project on anything? We can't! - I agreed and took a sip of my soda. Stan sighed and looked at the nearly collapsed house staring us down from the opposite side of the street. -Sometimes i just wanna be an adult and go to work. I know it's not easier, but on the other hand, I get to make money. Sometimes I envy some of the gypsies who don't have anything going on for them and hang around that old wreck over there - said the boy and scoffed. It seemed like he didn't envy them, more like was angry he had to do stuff while they were homeless and looking for shelter. -Well, you can always become one? - I said and grinned. He looked at me as if I was crazy and then proceed to smile himself. -Don't get me wrong, it's just exhausting! So many things to get keep up with. Math, Biology, Physics and other non-interesting subjects… He did have a point. Tenth grade was one of the steps to prepare us for the eventual big matriculation exam at the end of the final year where we get to pick which subject we have to take an exam for. -At least we have one more year left, and we are on a break right now! So let's not dirty our pleasures with the school problems! - I replied and took another chip for the open bag. He seemed to agree as he nodded. We just had to hang around for now, and worry about school in a few months. -Still though, if you had the chance to hang around that old wreck all the time, would you? - asked Stan pointing at the almost destroyed house. Looking at the barely standing foundations and remembering the creepy old rumor about the house I shook my head energetically. -Nope. Don't you remember the story behind the house? Stan rolled his eyes and looked at me mockingly. -Don't tell me you believe in that bollocks? That old story was for the kids who actually believed in ghost stories! - He replied and stood up from the staircase. It was a well-known fact that in the house in front of us previously lived a family of tree. One day something happened and the head figure, being the father, snapped and murdered his wife and son in cold blood. He later took his own life, by...somehow beheading himself. That last one bit was the bit that always sparked the conversation and wonders about why and how did this whole thing even start. Some say the man just went bonkers and shot himself, or hanged, but managing to remove your head on your own is somehow very strange and hard to do. Regardless, it still was a very disturbing story. It is known what whoever crossed the house's walled premises after 7pm will suffer some kind of consequence. -Well think about it. How many people have crossed the walls or the main gate and have escaped without any repercussions? Billy tried, bam, he broke his arm. Then Jim tried, bam, he lost glasses and then broke his phone. See, there's always something that happens! - I said in a way to make him stop doing whatever he was about to do. Stan however wasn't listening. Instead his eyes managed to spot the perfect rock for his next move. Picking it up, he looked at me and then at the house...actually at the windows above on the second story. -Watch this! - He said and threw the rock as hard and fast as he could. It flew with all its glory, smashed the glass and destroyed the window, the only remaining one in the entire house. -What did you do?! - I exclaimed jumping up. We had a little over thirty minutes until we had to get back home and he done and did that. I had to think of an excuse quickly of an explanation to give to my parents, but as I was trying to give an excuse, I saw how Stan was taking his phone out and was switching on the flashlight. Curious and forgotten about my parents I joined him, because I was sure about seeing something there. Something was moving. I turned my phone's flashlight too and got closer. With the combined light,...the broken window revealed...darkness. And...a body? I couldn't quite make it out, but there was indeed something. -Dude, I think there's someone there! - said Stan and looked at me a little tensed. I was about to confirm, when I saw what we were trying to distinguish. A suited body, Headless, was standing behind my friend. The phantom had his hands extended, and by the time I took to tell him to duck, it was too late. The suited creature grabbed, squeezed and pulled into the neck of Stan. I saw his the neck quite literally tear apart from its base, being his body. The suited man ripped his head from his body, as a blood bath ensued from the spawning wounds. The slightly afraid and curious face remained on the head of Stan, whose eyes were still opened thanks to the shock. I'm ashamed to say this but I ran and ran. It took me a second or two get back to the porch of the building, unlock the front gate and enter. I ran up the stairs as well. Heart beating faster and faster with each step. The elevator was luckily in the 1st floor, waiting for me to take it and escape from this hell. Pushing down on the 4th button for the 4th floor I saw how the door closed, and just as a relaxed sigh exited my body the bloody head of Stan crashed onto the small window of the elevators door and nearly broke the glass. I could not exactly see everything thanks to the blood that soaked the small window. But as the elevator started lifting me up, before I faded and collapsed I managed to read the message carved onto the forehead of my dead friend. "Don't Disturb Me!" [Malformed] Volume Final It was going to be a very regular Friday night for the newest employee of the donut shop inside one of the not so big malls around town. He had to use the back entrance from outside the mall's building, and once he got in, the clock on the main wall showed one am. He had to prepare the furnace, clean up, prepare the dough and leave after five am. His job was simple enough. It did take some time getting used to operating with the tools he was given to use, but eventually Mike got the grip of it. So much so, he didn't even need the required four hours to do the deeds. He could finish by three and a half, and have some time to relax and prepare the cardboard boxes for the cook to fill later when asked for a home consumption. Those who wanted to have a good time and eat by the shop, could sit on the tables right next to it, at the other side of the wall in front of Mike. Making sure to add things to do, that was surely going to favor him into landing this job permanently since right now, it was part-time. Being a student, he wanted to work as well, so he could afford the things he wished to buy. Thinking of that was his main motivation to work and do his duties as a hired part-time worker. He was hearing from the full-time workers, Jill and Ted, that the boss really appreciated his contributions, small but very thoughtful. With that in mind, he finished mopping the floor and tied his company branded apron and pulled his shirt’s sleeves up so they don't get in the way. The tasks he had as mentioned, were simple. Being done with the first one, he took his jacket and swiftly put it on in an attempt to warm himself in the freezer he was about to enter. The dough needed to be stored there so it doesn't go bad, having to suffer the terrible negative temperatures. As he opened the freezer however, he didn't find the needed mass of dough he would usually find there. Most of the times it was at least three packets up to six kilos, but this time, it was...just one sealed pack, with less product than expected. "Odd" - he thought and shrugged. Maybe the boss had decided to try a new routine, but that in itself was rather strange, considering he was a man of schedule, meaning he did exactly what he deemed right for success. Leaving such little resources for the much-needed morning opening was very peculiar. Either way, he took the sealed pack and attempted to leave the freezer. Not before stumbling on something...interesting. It was a glowing green rock left on the rafts beside the door, the side where you couldn't see it, if not turned to face the exit of the freezer. "We have a new pet?" - asked himself the young man and quickly took a pic and opened his app in which they, the workers, shared a group. He was surprised to see that Ted had posted something interesting already, so posting the same picture of the rock was meaningless, so he proceeded to scroll only to find another entry. A clip. Mike touched the play button and it began. For a second he wasn't sure what the camera was filming, but then Ted moved a bit and he managed to distinguish that the clip was shot somewhere around the back entrance, the very same one he used. The lamppost was illuminating the back lot of the city mall, but not much was happening. He then heard the voice of his co-worker. "Can you believe what just happened!? That just fell out of the sky!?" - He asked and then turned the camera towards Jil. She looked pretty as always with her long acorn nuanced hair and those big pretty dark eyes. She looked rather excited about what had just happened. He then pointed the camera at the parking lot again and that's when the glowing green rock came in view. It was in a small five-centimeter crater. Apparently, it had fallen from the sky, which was hard to imagine. "Should we keep it? I mean it fell in Mr. Luignoni's property so I guess it's ours, technically, right?" - He asked Jil, who agreed behind the camera. The last part of the clip was the hand of Ted reaching for the green glowing rock that had fallen from the sky. It then turned into static for some reason. Hopefully he was recording via the app, so the clip managed to get through and be sent. Mike smiled and looked at the rock. -Well, I guess you are our pet rock, huh? - He said quietly and placed his phone back in the apron front pocket. He wanted to observe it closely, so taking a few steps towards it; he extended his hand, just as Ted had done. He didn't manage to get to it though. The freezer door moved on its own and almost pushed him further inside. He was about to curse the door, when he saw what had actually done it. Scanning the thing standing before his eyes, Mike almost didn't recognize his own boss. -Mr. Luignoni? - He asked shaken. The thing did look like his boss. Although, some sort of grotesque like version of him. His entire body was covered in what looked like flour, while his head...was the part that disturbed the young lad. It was stretched out as if dough had gone under the rolling pin. His eyes were gone, with his other facial features spread out like big bumps made from playdough. -Aghhhhh! - yelled the thing, with its hands spread out. It was trying to reach the young man who didn't know how to proceed. Attacking seemed to be the best option, but still, he didn't know if that thing was real, yet. This could all be a dream for all he knew. The dough monster then screeched and launched itself at Mike, who managed to duck just in time. This definitely wasn't a dream. It was very real. Mike nearly tripped on his own feet, but managed to stay standing, just to see how the hand of the creature transform as if goo, into a blade like elongated limb. The fake boss attempted to stab him, but the part-time employee ducked and managed to slip below his spread arm. Mike saw the small kitchen knife stuck to the surface of one of the shelves. The reason for it being there was that sometimes, some of the packs would get stuck on the ground thanks to the coldness, so they had to use that knife in order to unseal the build up ice. Mike grabbed it, and without waiting for the creature to make another move, stabbed the fake Mr. Luignoni in the face. It produced an ear-piercing shriek that nearly deafened the young man. That was the last thing it did, as the knife that managed to resurface from the other side of the head was all covered with blood. He then stood as the flour from his body evaporated and revealed the even more destroyed body of his employer. Mike didn't say anything. His mind was still racing trying to understand what had happened. He didn't have time to think much though, something else was rising before him. It was the corpse of Ted, who was being transformed into the same creature as the boss. His head literally tore in half completely deforming itself, twisting to the sides and turning into something taken out of a horror illustrated book. The dread taking over his body was gripping him, but surviving was more important. Rushing to the rising figure, he stabbed the knife right in the chest, killing the already dead being. The crisp forming layer of the flour immediately collapsed and the body fell with a sound-full thud. -I'm sorry...I'm very sorry! - He said to the fallen abomination left out of his colleague. That wasn't going to bring him back, but what else could the young man say? It was all happening so fast, like it was planned. His blood was boiling from adrenalin and fear, so much that he didn't even feel cold anymore. Above all, he feared for a person he deemed dear to him, even if she didn't know. Considering both Mr. Luignoni and Ted were caught in the hands of that thing that was making his friends take different inhumanly shapes, he wouldn’t count out that Jil was safe. -Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkeeee! - He heard a screech behind him. His body turned around faster than he could even understand. As it did, his heart exploded from sadness by the sight of what he saw. Jil, she was completely different. All those beautiful features of her face and body were now disfigured beyond comprehension. Her feet were somehow her upper limbs, twisted in a disturbing angle where the bones would usually not bend. Her head was stuck in the stomach, with an absurdly horrifying open mouth and scaring black holes for eyes. It wasn't able to walk fast enough to reach him, and for that, Mike thanked whoever was in charge of miracles. That in mind though, he was still unsure of what to do. Kill this abomination or close the freezer and not let anyone open it again? It was a question he needed to resolve fast because at the end of the day, it was Jil who was suffering from this horrific parasite or whatever the thing controlling her and destroying her was. Mike glanced at the fire extinguisher...or slightly above it. The axe to break the small window was still there, and using it to free Jil....was somehow a plan. It would be the best thing to do for her, since she was already dead at this point. Did he have the heart to do something so brutal to the woman he loved though? Did he have it in him, to end the suffering on his dearly beloved, even if it was only on his side? Jil…or the fake one, screamed and her mouth gaped open, revealing sharp and crooked teeth, filled to the crown with flour and moving dough. Her teeth elongated to the point it resembled a pre-historic long last animal, with fierce fangs. That pretty much made him decide faster. Rushing to the hanged axe above the fire extinguisher, he grabbed it out of its place, and ran back. The creature launched itself at him, but his movements were still faster, with his inertia powering up his swing. The blade of the axe went through her entire body, completely slashing through everything. The flour immediately dropped away from her body…and Mike nearly puked, seeing the deformities without the outer shell. As he murdered the last standing corpse dough creature, he noticed something has vanished. Turning around once again, facing the direction of the sky rock, he saw how it wasn’t glowing anymore, and its color had faded. “That’s the thing that killed them…I don’t know how, I don’t care how…It has to be destroyed!” – He thought and quickly grabbed the thing with a napkin taken from the pocket of the apron. He wasn’t going to risk it all. Grabbing it, he ran outside, and threw it at the ground with all he could muster to throw. It did shatter, but that wasn’t enough. Mike took the axe again and smashed the rock, again and again. For Mr. Luignoni, Ted and most definitely for Jil, whom he loved…and had to kill. After the twentieth time, he sat on the ground sobbing, with tears watering down on his face. It was only two twenty two am, and he didn’t have a job anymore, didn’t have a friend nor boss…nor a girl to secretly love. All he had was the messily revenge, if you could call it that, on the weird space rock. He glanced at the bright green powder, which came out of it, and almost couldn’t believe that it happened. If it wasn’t for his memory, he would like to think of this as one long and elaborate nightmare…but it wasn’t…and that fact crushed him even more. Mike laid down on the ground…still slightly warm from all the day’s worth of the sunshine. His eyes then moved up, and he stared at the sky…which was awfully green for some reason. The stars were brighter than before…and looked bigger as well. Could there me some interesting interstellar event happening today? He didn’t know, but he didn’t care. But that’s when it hit him. He rose up from the ground, looked at the green powder, and then at the sky again…getting greener and greener every second. “Those aren’t stars!” – He mumbled to himself as he observed how the small rock comets, very little in size, were painting the welkin green. With each second, Mike was observing the million if not billions of comets falling down the earth’s ground. For what purpose…he didn’t know; perhaps for the end of the world. The only thing he did know, was to not get in touch of them…or he would also become malformed.
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AuthorHello, this is Nedyalko Delchev, or Black Wing. I’m a writer and currently 25-years old. One of my dreams is to publish a book and impact the world! Until then, I will be posting all kind of contend on my Story Book! Archives
September 2023
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