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"Halloween" Horror Special 2016: Choose One!

Part 1: A Thing I Do Not Know
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Part 2: The Tree of Tears
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Part 3: The Tusked Mask
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i hate all of them
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Author Topic: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories  (Read 9021 times)

BlackDragonSlayer

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BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« on: June 24, 2013, 09:57:33 AM »

Yes, I know I haven't finished a... certain other story yet... but I don't care!!! I have ideas! :3 And I shall write them!

Completed:
The Final Choice:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Author's Notes Coming Soon

Angel Wings:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Author's Notes Coming Soon

Halloween Horror Special 2013:
Part 1: Pizza Delivery
We all have our inner demons, but some more than others.
Part 2: She Will Come
Mistakes, murders, and revenge centered around a sickly young boy and his parents.
Part 3: The Tale of Dr. Goode
An unsettled spirit comes back from the dead hundreds of years later to seek victims in revenge for his untimely murder.

Annie and Zed: Into the Pirates' Den:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Annie and Zed: The Heart of Mt. Coldclaw:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Halloween Horror Special 2014:
Part 1: HELP ME
A retired superhero coming back into action is plunged into a world of chaos as he is faced with a realization about his own life.
Part 2: The Man Who Treads With Death
A disillusioned, suicidal man finds a friend.
Part 3: Cold is the Night of Revenge
With a powerful alien creature at his beck and call, the crazed man begins to unleash his plan upon the world. But can that keep him from his own mortality?

Halloween Horror Special 2015:
Part 1: The Love Which We Deny Him:
A nice quiet neighborhood is not all that it seems, for there are monsters lurking just out of sight.
Part 2: I Think I Might Die Here:
A man, a woman, and a killer robot meet in a fateful encounter.
Part 3: I Knew a Man:
In space, nothing will hear you scream except Death itself.

Chilling Winter Tales:
#1: My Little Christmas Miracle
#2: Looking Sallow
#3: The Lazarus Tree

Halloween Horror Special 2016:
Part 1: A Thing I Do Not Know:
Chased by an enigmatic creature. Alone. Trapped. How can there be any escape?
Part 2: The Tree of Tears:
"Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair."
Part 3: The Tusked Mask:
An aging news reporter's quest to get to the bottom of an urban legend that might be true turns into a tale of survival in a barren wasteland.


In Progress:
A Quiet Peace:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

The Retriever:
Part 1
Part 2



Coming Soon:
Cold Planet:
Inspired by episodes of the Twilight Zone. Takes place during an alternate Cold War, where nuclear war has engulfed the planet, and attracted the attention of an alien force...
The Adventures of Louise:
A tale told from the perspective of a dog named Louise (her entire life; spoiler: the dog dies in the end), who strives to please her owners: "Sir," "Ma'am," "Boy," and "Girl."
Frozen in Time:
In the future, a disgraced detective is given a chance to redeem himself by using an experimental time machine to solve a murder that has baffled all others. He soon finds that the culprit has a few tricks of his own.

NOT Coming Soon:
Annie and Zed: Mystery at the City of Crystal
A murder on the coastal-half of Coral City prompts Annie to once again seek Zed's help. There, they find an ominous message from the murderer, warning them to stay away. The message is signed only with the name "Shadow Hand." Who or what is the Shadow Hand?
« Last Edit: March 28, 2017, 08:06:03 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #1 on: June 26, 2013, 01:03:47 AM »

The Final Choice part 1

     In the dark room, an old man lay on a bed, coughing and wheezing, occasionally scratching at his sides as if he had an itch that kept returning to taunt him. He motioned over to a robot that was laying on a wide nightstand to his left; it moved away and out of the ajar door. Minutes later, it returned with a young man wearing dark black boots, with neat, combed hair almost as dark as his boots. The young man pulled a chair forward and sat down by the bedside. The old man reached upward and, with great effort, tried to sit up; although he was not able to move very far, he seemed satisfied with his progress, as he began to speak to the young man.

"Son... my days are numbered... soon... cough... you shall be the new Emperor! Learn from my mistakes; do not.. cough cough... abuse... cough... your..."

     The robot pushed the young man out of the way, nearly toppling his chair over. He got up and walked out of the room, as if he had become used to this event- as if it was a daily routine, and his father would be all right the next day. However, his father was right: his would not last much longer; if fact, he would not even last until the next morning. The death legally placed the young man in the position of Emperor- as dictated by the treaty created many generations ago- despite the fact that he was not yet older than eighteen...

********************

     In the past, there was a great war between two mighty countries. On one side were those who believed that the government should be placed in complete power: they thought that if an "unbiased" organization could effectively "control" the people by eliminating dissidents, peace would be brought to society. However, the other side believed that a more traditional monarchy would be enough to bring in a new era of prosperity.

     The war was long and bloody; although the "Peacebringers," as they came to be know, had the upper hand in the war, constant fighting had ravaged their armies and country as well. To end the conflict, they worked on a compromise with their enemy: a single individual would be given the power to decide the fate of people deemed "dissidents" by an elected council of individuals. The treaty was signed and memories of the war quickly faded as rebuilding and assimilation of the two countries began. However, unbeknownst to all others, the former "Peacebringers" worked to manipulate the treaty, placing one of their own leaders in the position of emperor, and slowly increasing his power, to the point where the council merely served as "advisors" to the emperor. Upon the first emperor's death, the remaining "Peacebringers" hastily placed his son in command, thus establishing a new dynasty of emperors, willing to follow the commands of the "Peacebringers."

     In the modern day, the organization once know as the "Peacebringers" has essentially faded away, but their corrupted ideals still remain at the core of the government...

********************

     A boy got off of a train along with a crowd of other students. If somebody were to pass him on the street, they would see nothing special in him: he was short, had messy, black hair (which almost appeared to be a dark grey at first) which he kept running his fingers through nervously, and wore small, round glasses which seemed to be ready to fall off at any moment. It was obvious that he felt uncomfortable at this place.

     Students were required to attend this "special" academy for four years after they turned sixteen; the academy itself was nothing extraordinary except for the fact that it was meant to assess the capabilities of students- whether they were fit for "common" office jobs, law enforcement, or elite army positions... if they were deemed unfit for any such work, they were often eliminated; after all, it was reasoned, if they could only do jobs that were done by robots, how could they benefit society? In a few rare cases, however, other options became unavailable depending on the student's range of technological skill.

     The boy looked around and listened attentively to the conversations of the older students who had arrived before his group- mostly those about the new students- which were littered by scoffs, sneers, and other generally unfavorable remarks. Suddenly, one of the older boys pushed his way straight through the crowd, and stopped in front of the boy, inspecting him as if he was a scrawny fish he had caught after a long day of fishing. The older boy was tall and imposing: it was clear that he had authority among others his age, although the boy suspected that he gained his status through intimidation rather than kind leadership.

     After the older boy had gotten enough entertainment by inspecting the boy, he pushed him to the ground and merely walked away. The boy's bag dropped to the ground, and a few things spilled out, including what looked to be an oval metal plate or disk, and an article of clothing that resembled an officer's jacket- it was faded, and most likely had been worn frequently. He jumped up and tried to hurriedly put the things back, but stopped momentarily when he looked up...

TO BE CONTINUED, IN PART 2
« Last Edit: June 27, 2013, 10:29:14 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #2 on: June 26, 2013, 01:40:12 AM »

is this a story you are writing
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BlackDragonSlayer

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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #3 on: July 03, 2013, 11:01:41 PM »

The Final Choice part 2

     Melinda got off the train far ahead of the other students; she needed some quiet time to think to herself. Her brother had attended this academy (as it was the only one in the area) until he was crippled by a machinery malfunction during a training exercise, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down, and with only one arm. Although he had been among the top students beforehand, excelling in all of the physical and intellectual assessments, the government refused to "salvage" him with expensive prosthetics and surgeries: even with all the technology available to them, they might not have been able to bring him back to his prime, something they did not see as a valid risk to take. Her parents pleaded with the emperor's council directly, begging them to find a way to keep him alive by finding a purpose for him in society. Unfortunately, their pleas fell on deaf ears. She felt hateful about the incident, and she knew she wasn't the only one who felt that way. Her parents had been shattered; she had heard that Calvin, one of her brother's friends, had become bitter and antagonistic- she did not look forward to seeing him, but though it might be better to at least talk with him.

     She looked to her right, and could see a tall boy with dark hair pacing back and forth in front of a line of students about his age, scrutinizing their uniforms and complaining how shoddy they looked. Melinda hoped that that wasn't Calvin, but she was fairly certain it was. Hesitantly, she walked over, and caught his attention.

"Hello?? You're Calvin? I believe you knew my brother; his name was..."

"Yes," as if his response did not convey his displeasure enough, he scowled. "I knew him. But that was... long ago... we should forget about the past: ignore irrelevant details that no longer affect us."

"It was only last year!"

"So it was... now, do you have anything important to tell me, or are you just going to laze around like these incompetent scum!?" Upon saying his final words, he pointed over toward the line; a few of the students stopped slouching and stood up straight, as if they were already soldiers. "If I remember from my own first years, your class orientation is in under an hour. I suggest you find your way around the building before then."

     Melinda walked away, sulking, and picked up a map lying in one of several piles of maps on a table. She sat down on a bench and began reading it... she was never good with maps...

     After about ten minutes, the other group of first-year students arrived. Melinda set down the map and looked up to see Calvin push his way through the crowd and knock a younger boy to the ground. Picking the map up, she got up from the bench and walked toward the boy, who was, by now, picking up the things that had dropped from his bag, and putting them back in- she thought she saw him stuff an officer's jacket into the bag, which she found rather odd, as any war keepsakes (if any still existed from past wars) were destroyed. The boy looked up at her, and she stopped; his gaze was piercing and attentive, and in a way, unnerving: it reminded her of the government officials on the weekly broadcasts, urging citizens to conserve water, plant a garden, or do other actions of the like.

"I need a bit of help; I think I'm lost. Are you good with maps?"

"Certainly," he took the map Melinda handed to him, and his eyes darted across it, "where do you need to go?"

     The boy showed Melinda where she need to go (and he as well, as they were both first-year students): the very room across from where she had been sitting minutes ago.

"Thank you!" Melinda turned to walk away, but stopped suddenly. "I never asked your name; mine is Melinda."

"My name is Bartholomew. Bartholomew Akillias."

********************

     The young man- now emperor- hunched over some sort of control panel, watching several screens. The door slid open behind him, and a floating robot came in.

It announced its presence by stating: "What did you think of the boy, sir?"

"I'm not too sure of him, EVaC. He seems too... hesitant... too... closed to the world..."

"What leads you to that conclusion, sir?"

"It's more of a guess than a solid deduction." He slammed his fists against the panel several times.

"Troubled, sir? About your father?"

"Not just him. Too many of my close friends have died too soon: the only people I've known my whole life."

"I believe that is the way of life, sir. It is said that we should ignore irrelevant details that no longer affect us."

"But it is affecting me, EVaC!"

"Because you let it, sir."

The man sighed. "You won't die, will you EVaC?"

"Of course not, sir, at least, not until you do. I am only a computer system stored in the basement of the royal palace, manifesting myself through these various robots that have been made for this purpose. When you die, sir, I shall become obsolete, and a new EVaC unit shall be designed for the new heir, centered around their needs and behaviors."

     The young emperor stared toward the screens. On the largest of them, what appeared to be a courtroom was displayed... a middle-aged man was brought forth into the bright lights in front of the judge...

********************

     Melinda leaned over the sink for support; she felt nauseous, and thus, wasn't looking forward to the day's classes. Only a week had passed since she first arrived at the academy, and, at the time, she had felt perfectly fine- at least healthwise. She lifted up a flat electronic device and stared at its screen; after pushing a few buttons, she brought up her assigned schedule for the day: First was Computer Skills: Programming Androids to Prepare Food; after that was Physical Assessment: Running an Obstacle Course and Climbing; then was a break... Melinda wondered if she could even make it that far...

There was a knock at the door: "Hurry up, Melinda!" one of her roommates said, "We're going to be late!"

     Melinda stumbled through the hallway, clutching her stomach, and looking as if she would being vomiting at any time. The hall was surprisingly empty; only a few others were passing by, but they seemed to pay her no heed. Carelessly walking along, she stepped on somebody's foot.

"S...ssorry!" she gasped out.

"Be more careful..." Calvin turned to looks at her. "Ah, it's you again. You don't look too good; has this rattrap been too much for you!?" He snorted.

"I think I'm sick..."

"Well, then, you need to think some more. There's a clinic somewhere on the grounds." He walked away.

     Melinda entered the computer lab; aside from her and her roommate, she could see nobody else there.

"So much for being late..." she muttered to herself; she glanced up at the clock: 16 minutes before the hour...

     She glanced around the row of computers in front of her, and saw a boy (she deduced that it was Bartholomew) sitting down at a computer, staring intently at a list, and sometimes typing fervently.

"What are you doing here?" Melinda asked.

     Bartholomew nearly jumped out of his chair, and the list disappeared before Melinda could see what was on it.

"Nothing, nothing!! Just... uh, well... hacking..."

"Oh... is that even allowed?"

"Uh... yes... as long as you don't damage anything or get into any off-limit government sites. It really helps your prospects if you can find- and fix, of course- potential security exploits. Everything you do on these computers is monitored, you know.. not like these computers are any different." He uttered a quiet, forced laugh.

"What was that list you had up??"

"Nothing important... just a list of imports and exports of local warehouses within the past few months..." he scratched his knuckles nervously. "But... uh... how are you?"

TO BE CONTINUED, IN PART 3
« Last Edit: July 08, 2013, 12:04:16 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #4 on: July 07, 2013, 11:46:41 AM »

The Final Choice part 3

     Melinda trudged along the hallway; she didn't think she could carry on any longer while feeling so terrible. The computer class hadn't been too bad, except for the nearly constant exposure to food (which merely escalated her nausea). She lifted the flat device and looked at her schedule... if she could recall correctly, the next class was...

     She looked at the screen in confusion: her schedule was completely blank for the rest of the day. Shocked- and somewhat worried, at first- she rushed toward the head warden's office, and hurriedly knocked at the door.

"Come in," she could hear a gruff and generally unnerving voice through the door.

     Melinda entered the office; it was barren of any decorations or furniture besides a few chairs, a dark oak desk, and a vertical row of glass shelves behind that; the room itself was painted a light shade of green, with grey baseboard. The warden himself was an imposing man, who would've been rather scary had he not been wearing a campaign hat that, unbeknownst to him, was tilted slightly to one side. If one did not count his eyebrows or eyelashes, he had not a speck of hair on his head.

"Sir, I had a question!"

"What is it?"

"My schedule... it's been cleared. I was worried that it might be an error, so I decided to come here."

"Very well."

     The warden snatched the device from Melinda, and placed it on top of a cube which was on his desk. The cube glowed momentarily, and then dinged. The warden picked up the device.

"The... rearrangement... of your schedule appears to be intentional; our system can find no errors in the change. Have a... good... day..." He gritted his teeth as he spoke, as if reluctantly telling her this information.

     Melinda exited the office in awe, realizing that the absence of classes for today allowed her plenty of time to visit the clinic Calvin had mentioned to her earlier. She figured it wouldn't take her too long to find it, even if she had to wander around a bit. Then she began vomiting on the floor...

********************

     EVaC hovered besides the young emperor, his spindly mechanical limbs whirring and clicking.

"EVaC... could you please leave me alone for once? I'm having trouble concentrating with you around."

"I am sorry, sir, but I fear that I have actually not been around enough. For most of the day, sir, you have been keeping me inactive; I would actually prefer to monitor you more. I can detect that you are becoming increasingly troubled as the days go on."

"Being in this rattrap has been an unpleasant experience."

"Remember, sir, that you came here of your own will. If your father had had his way, you would still be receiving education from me and top teachers around the world."

"I felt as if I needed to get closer to the people I would be ruling... they're the future of our society, EVaC! A society that... that lives in fear- fear of the government, an entity that should protect the people."

"Sir, I am required to tell you that the government does protect people: by eliminating those who might become a hindrance to our society, we can lead the people to a more prosperous future.  You must accept your responsibilities if you are to carry out your duty."

     The young emperor reclined in his chair, and let out a sigh.

"And, may I ask you, sir, why did you clear the girl's schedule? What benefits did you see from such an action, even though I advised you against doing so? If you are looking to impress her- another action which I strongly recommend against- you are going about it in all the wrong ways."

"I'm not trying to impress anybody; I highly doubt she even suspects me of doing so. We barely talked before she went to the clinic, and I have a feeling that we won't meet again for some time when she gets back."

"But what if she becomes curious? What if she finds out more than she should? I know for a fact, sir, that her family holds a personal grudge against the council, and perhaps even the Emperor himself: your father, and now, you. If she discovers who you are, she might even try and harm you. If you are assassinated without any heirs, sir...!"

"What would happen then, EVaC?"

"As dictated by the Treaty of Silverwater, sir, the position of Emperor, and with it, the rest of the government, would be... dissolved... the people would be free to form their own governing body."

"I don't think that would be such a bad thing, EVaC."

     The emperor got up from his chair and stormed out of the room. After he was sure the young man was gone, EVaC moved himself closer to the control panel, and powered on the computer system... he browsed over a list of names, looking for one in particular...

********************

"Is this the book you are looking for?" the robot stated, mechanically.

"Yes, thank you," Melinda said.

     The robot released its grasp on the book, and it slid into Melinda's hand. Just earlier, Melinda had felt sick, but after a few hours' treatment at the clinic on the academy's grounds, her condition was bearable. Since she still had some time left in the day, she had decided to come to the library to research something: the surname of that odd boy, Bartholomew Akillias. She recollected hearing that name somewhere before, but she couldn't recall where. The vast library of the academy might be a good place to start, she reasoned; although she could just as easily use the databanks, she felt slightly uneasy knowing that Bartholomew could probably find what she had been doing without much effort. The book she now held in her hand was titled: Important Figures in the History of Our Grand Nation, By Surname, A-M. It looked brand new; the pages smelled fresh, and the binding was undamaged. She opened the book and began to search for the name; it wasn't long before she found what she had hoped- or dreaded. The name "Jeremiah Akillias," and beside it: Member of the Emperor's Council from the time he turned thirty-two years old until his death. The date of his death was a little more than three months ago.

     Shaken, she returned the book to its place. Jeremiah Akillias, Bartholomew's father, had been one of those who had refused to acknowledge her parent's pleas to save her brother; for all intents and purposes, he was her brother's executioner. Melinda was enraged: Bartholomew, who, being the child of a member of the council, had available to him premium education, had been sent to (or worse, chosen to be sent to) this... this prison... to crush the other students to the dust- to show them how "superior" he was to them. Leaving the library, Melinda headed straight to her room; along the way, she saw Bartholomew among a crowd of others, blending in like a snake... she glared at him with rage.

     Upon arriving at her room, she opened the door and turned on the light. She meandered toward the bed, and started to collapse on it; she felt something underneath her. Reaching for whatever-it-was, she felt a small envelope beneath. Bringing it out, she could see that it was colored a charred grey; she opened it:

"To the recipient of this letter, Melinda Coleman:

     We regret to inform you that the mother and father of you, the recipient, have been killed during the crossfire between law enforcement and protesters outside of the Judicial Building. Since it cannot be determined whether or not the two, Jean and Frederick Coleman, were part of the protest, they cannot be disgraced."

     The letter was not signed. Melinda fell back on the bed, sobbing, and screaming.

TO BE CONCLUDED, IN PART 4
« Last Edit: July 08, 2013, 01:16:53 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #5 on: July 08, 2013, 05:11:46 AM »

The Final Choice part 4

     The young emperor entered the dark room again. Seeing the largest of the screens powered on, he walked over to it.

"EVaC... where are you?"

    He got no response. Sitting down at the chair once more, he pressed a few buttons, and brought up a list of names, all of them in red. Somewhat afraid, he hurried across the list... Melinda Williams... no, that wasn't her... Melinda Coleman... he clicked on the name, and a picture was brought up: the picture of the girl he had become familiar with over his time at the academy. He typed in a command- it resulted in an error message. He tried once more, with the same result.

"EVaC; come here now!"

From behind a curtain, EVaC came out. "What do you need, sir?"

"I cannot alter the list of scheduled eliminations. There's something wrong with the system."

"No, sir, there is nothing wrong; Melinda Coleman has been scheduled for immediate execution. I was worried about her: not only that she would find out who you are, but that you would develop feelings for her- she is a dissident, and not worthy to stand in your presence... let alone live."

"You are not the emperor, EVaC. You have no authority to make such decisions. As long as I am the Emperor, I shall have supreme authority. As long as I am Emperor, I shall keep the promise I made to my father: I will do whatever I can to benefit my people- even if it means death for me."

"Do not be so outrageous, sir!"

     The young man lashed out at EVaC, pushing his spindly limbs away as they tried to claw at him. Pushing a button on the bottom on the robot, EVaC's body collapsed into an oval disk. Going back over to the control panel, he brought up another list, and searched for his own name...

********************

     Melinda continued to sob as she was chained to her chair; she was alone in the room, although she could see other empty chairs along the walls. On both ends of the room was a door: one led back to life, and another led to death. She didn't know how long had passed, but after some time, a boy was brought into the room; he wore a faded grey officer's jacket. He was led to the chair next to her, and sat down; she was unchained.

"Bar... Bartholomew?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Why are you here?" she sniffled slighty. "To rescue me?"

"I can't, unfortunately; I came to join you."

"But... but... how did you get here... your father? Jeremiah? Wouldn't that offer you freedom?"

"Jeremiah was my uncle. My father was named Lawrence... but to answer your question, I came here of my own will."

     Melinda leaned closer to him, and wrapped her arms around him. Bartholomew whispered something in her ear, that seemed to calm her slightly... the few minutes they had left slowly ticked away... it felt almost like an eternity...

********************

     All the television and special broadcast screens around the country displayed the same video; it was unlikely that anybody missed it:

     A young man stepped forward into the light; he was standing in a small room with red curtains all around its edges. He wore tall, dark boots which boosted his height. His hair was ruffled, and he had on a pair of small, round glasses, which were precariously balanced. He cleared his throat, and brought forth a manuscript.

"Greeting, citizens of our grand country! I am Bartholomew Akillias; since the death of my father, the previous Emperor, Lawrence Akillias, I have been your Emperor. During my brief reign, I have gone among you, and those of my own age, to observe your living conditions. Needless to say, what I saw... frightened me... you live in fear of the government; for you, every day is a fight for your lives. My father urged me throughout my life, and at the time of his death, to be a better ruler than he had been. However, it has dawned on me that, as long as the position of emperor continues to exist, I cannot fulfill my true duty. According to the... Treaty of Silvertree... uh..." he shifted the papers in his hand... "Silverwater... the only way this can occur is if the current Emperor dies while in power without any heirs- one cannot merely retire."

     He paused, as if giving time for his message to sink in.

"That is why, by the time you will be watching this message, I will be dead. Doing so will allow you, the people, to reform the government..." he scratched his forehead. "When the treaty was created, the 'Peacebringer Society' predicted that the first Emperor, one of their own members, and my great-great-grandfather, would be too greedy to sacrifice themselves for the people, as with all subsequent Emperors. They were groomed and conditioned to carry on the corrupted principles that the so-called 'Peacebringers' had built their own country on..."

     His voice began to quiver.

"In short... you... you all... are free... as our ancestors were, long, long ago... I wish you the best of luck in rebuilding what has been destroyed..."

     He walked away, back into the darkness.

THE END
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #6 on: July 08, 2013, 05:45:27 AM »

Wow. Incredible job, BDS! I loved the ending, I loved the characters, heck, I didn't even realize Bartholomew was the Emperor until the very end! Please keep it up!
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #7 on: August 31, 2013, 12:38:05 AM »

Angel Wings part 1

     Officer Hallstone spouted various profanities as he saw the shredded remains of the back-left tire on his vehicle.

"They don't make 'em like they used to..." he grumbled to himself, "there're better tires... at a junkyard..."

     He went around back, opened the trunk, and searched for the spare tire inside. To his surprise, he couldn't find it. As he turned toward his left, he saw the front-left tire: it had also been shredded.

********************

     Officer Hallstone had been sent to investigate the disappearance of two hikers in this forest; as he had been a forest ranger in his youth, and was an officer longer than nearly everybody else in his department, he was the unanimous choice for the investigation. Some people said that all the others were too superstitious to set foot in that forest...

     Hallstone opened the driver-side door of his car, and turned on the police radio. There was nothing but static. Backing up from the car, he pulled out his cell phone, and tried to turn it on; it's screen remained blank. Once more, he grumbled about the cheapness of modern products.

********************

     Fortunately, he still had a map in the trunk. Glancing at it, he saw that there was a town close by. From his estimations, it shouldn't take any more than a few hours to get there... but the sun was already starting to set? Had he been driving for that long? He recalled setting off for the forest by noon: had it really taken him many hours to reach this place?

     To his left, he heard a small fluttering noise; looking in that direction, he saw a small blue jay. Nothing to be scared of, of course, he reassured himself...

********************

     He set off as soon as possible, taking the map and some supplies with him; he was hopeful that he'd be out of the forest by sundown. The tall trees obscured the already fading light of the sun, making it hard to see anything other than the road he walked aside... and a few squirrels that he could hear scurry up trees...

     After a while of walking, Officer Hallstone realized the futility of his fast-paced trek: he was beginning to get fatigued, it was already dark, and it appeared as if there was no way he'd get much closer to his destination (so much for the "reliable" map, he thought). He could barely make out a wide gap between a group of trees, and decided to set up camp there; that was something that did not take him too long: despite his advancing age, he wasn't completely feeble.

     As he lay underneath his makeshift tent- nothing more than a sheet of cloth held down by branches, something that should suit his purpose well, as there wasn't any wind to knock it over- Officer Hallstone thought about what he had heard about this forest. This wasn't any ordinary forest, they said. Something you can hear wailing, they said, like somebody is playing a church organ in the distance...

     While he was thinking, he didn't notice a large shape swoop down; however, he heard it when it slammed down onto a branch. Just an owl, he reassured himself... just another owl...

********************

     Officer Hallstone continued to walk as soon as the sun had risen enough to light the whole road. Not much interesting occurred until he reached a fork in the road. Looking once more on the map... he didn't see it at all: nothing indicated that there was supposed to be a fork here- that perplexed him. He knew that his map should be up to date... eventually, he decided to take the path on the right-hand side. After all, if he wasn't correct in his choice, he would always have time to turn back. And if he wasn't, he thought, he might actually discover something pertaining to his original objective. He did not notice the fallen and trampled "ROAD CLOSED: DO NOT PASS" signs that lay scattered around.

     The road quickly degraded until it was nothing more than a dirt path; Hallstone's curiosity propelled him to investigate further. Yes, he thought, this looks like a place where it'd be easy to get lost. Perhaps I'm actually on the right track.

     Then, the path disappeared completely, giving way to another group of trees loosely clumped together. He kept going, until the path went out of view... up ahead, there was some sort of building: it was covered with vines and bushes. It had a few windows, and the door was stuck in a half-opened position. He walked up to it, and, after looking around the front, walked inside...

TO BE CONTINUED, IN PART 2
« Last Edit: September 01, 2013, 02:54:16 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #8 on: September 01, 2013, 11:49:45 PM »

Angel Wings part 2

Date: 5 July 1986

     We have recovered the object, what appears to be an advanced spacecraft, that crashed in the forest just south of the Canadian border, and have brought it a bit farther south to study it. A creature, unconscious, was brought along with it. It appears injured, but otherwise fine.

     Residents of the local town were surprised by the object, which flashed across the sky last night, and in the morning by a military detachment in their area. We told them that we were retrieving a radioactive meteorite that was being tracked for research purpose. I just hope they believed us; the last thing we need are locals snooping about around here.

********************

     Officer Hallstone observed the inside of the building. Aside from some murky puddles on the floor, cracked tiles, and papers and equipment strewn about, it looked pristine: chairs were still at their desks, pens in their holders, what few paintings there were appeared vibrant and new, and memos were still pinned to their pinboards...

     After walking around, he realized that the outer building was simply a wide corridor built around a massive interior square structure. So far, however, he had seen no entrances to this inner square, or even anything indicating that there was actually something inside of it. As he turned the corner, though, he saw a dark metallic door, and a panel besides it, with a keycard hanging down, forlorn.

     He picked up the keycard, and inserted it into the slot. The door opened. He moved to walk toward it, but the keycard began sliding out of the slot; grabbing a trashcan from across the room, he propped it against the keycard to keep it in. It wouldn't be good if he got himself trapped inside, he thought.

********************

Date: 8 July 1986

     The spacecraft, it seems, was damaged by space debris and was forced to land here on Earth. What appear to be its navigational computers are damaged beyond repair, and thus, we cannot determine its original course. Nothing else in the spacecraft is of use: it's made of nothing but materials found here on Earth, and the propulsion systems were apparently broken off when it was hit by the debris. Our superiors won't be pleased by our findings, I regret to say.

     The creature, though, is still very much alive; it has recently regained consciousness. Most unfortunately, though, our tests have shown that it sustained partial brain damage during the crash, and thus, doesn't seem to remember anything before its time here. Even it if hadn't, though, we doubt that it would've been able to communicate with us: its vocal chords are unable to reproduce human speech- only hoarse sounds resembling those of an pipe organ.

     One problem we've had with containing the creature is its wings: it often has strange urges to fly up and around, slamming itself against the glass. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to be strong enough to shatter the industrial-strength material, despite its size. Still, we're worried it might injure itself. Several others have proposed ways to stop this behavior, though I'm not too fond of any of the proposed methods.

********************

     Once again, Officer Hallstone turned to the door. He paused before walking through. The corridor inside was about as wide as two people standing tightly shoulder-to-shoulder; on the far end of the corridor was another door, with a panel close by. This panel responded to his touch, and the door opened. He walked through the second door.

     The inside was dark; he brought out his flashlight, and looked around. He could barely make out a light switch in the darkness, and switched it on. A single light flickered on and off sporadically.

     Suddenly, the door began to close. He grabbed something on the floor, and pushed it between the door and the wall in order to keep the door open. Although he didn't see what he grabbed, it was, in fact, a human skull.

     Returning his attention to the light, he could see something written on the wall in a dark, red color. Shining his flashlight directly on it, he could completely read it:

WHO WOULD STEAL THE WINGS FROM AN ANGEL?

     A twinge of fear came over Hallstone. He wanted to turn and run out the door, but something else caught his eye.

********************

Date: 10 July 1986

     A few of the researchers have taught the creature to read and write in the English language; it's very intelligent, it seems, and learns quickly. This project may yet have some potential.

********************

     Bones lay scattered on the floor. Various pieces of shredded clothing and accessories. There was a purse with the strap missing, a pair of shoes without laces, and two backpacks laying side by side, with granola bars and broken bags of trail mix, still fresh, pouring out.

     Was there somebody still in here? The thought passed through Officer Hallstone's mind. Perhaps somebody had gotten trapped in here, gone insane, and killed anybody who stumbled upon his dark refuge...

     Stepping over the piles, he dared to go further. On the wall was a shattered glass case: it had fallen from the wall and spewed its contents all around. Littered in front of the case was a bunch of shriveled grey feathers, and a dried golden substance...

TO BE CONCLUDED, IN PART 3
« Last Edit: September 03, 2013, 09:32:20 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #9 on: September 03, 2013, 10:39:19 AM »

Angel Wings part 3

Date: 18 July 1986

     After we told them that some of the researchers had been teaching the creature more about the English language, some of the handlers have dared to stay inside the enclosure for long periods of time, reading to it. Although I don't exactly agree with the potential risk they're taking, their time with the creature seems to pacify it.

Date: 19 July 1986

     Inspired by the idea of reading to the creature, I suggested that we install a screen in the enclosure to display artwork. After observing it attentively watch the screen, I have deduced that it has great fascination with religious art over all other kinds... and perhaps we can finally give this creature a proper name.

********************

     Walking halfway across the room, Officer Hallstone could see that this place was built in a circular pattern, unlike the previous square shape of the outer corridor. He stopped when he saw another door, and looked inside, but it was too dark, and there were no lights. His flashlight was beginning to die, so he didn't bother wasting it exploring more of the interior room. He decided to keep going around.

     Half-fumbling around in the dark, Officer Hallstone could feel more spots of dried blood against the wall. More writing, perhaps, he thought... then, he tripped over a desk, accidentally pulling out a drawer in an attempt to regain his balance. He fell on top of a skeleton, clutching a single sheet of paper in his hand. Officer Hallstone grabbed the paper, and got up. Leaning against the wall once more, he felt another light switch, and turned it on: this light was still dim, but it was just barely enough to read the paper.

********************

Date: 31 July 1986

     I have become displeased with my colleagues. Pressured by government officials (who apparently have no regard for ethical research), they made a hasty and quite foolish decision. After discovering the interesting properties of the creature's (the name "Angel" has caught on among a few, but not all, of us) feathers, they tried plucking one. It withered not but a second later. Then they decided to sedate Angel and find out how it preserves its feathers naturally. They discovered a pair of glands in its wings that secrete a special fluid that fills its feathers.

     Thus, the whole lot of them felt a need for an immediate amputation. The two glands seem to operate fine outside of its body, but I'm concerned about what psychological effects might occur from such a procedure...

Date: 4 August 1986

     One of Angel's handlers was found dead inside the enclosure; only his bones and internal organs were left. We've determined that the cause of death was a stroke, which is something that relieves me, but there's still the concern about what happened to the rest of him.

********************

     Officer Hallstone read the page:

Date: 18 August 1986

Angel escaped. Sealed inner and outer laboratory doors. If you're reading this, run for the door. Take the keycard from the outer door and run. SEAL THE DOORS.

     He dropped the page and looked up at the words written in the man's blood:

WHO WOULD STEAL THE WINGS FROM AN ANGEL?

     He stared around the room. There were bones smashed against the walls. Above them all was written the haunting words:

WHO WOULD STEAL THE WINGS FROM AN ANGEL?

    Officer Hallstone knew not what deranged beast lurked in this place, but what he did know is that he didn't want to meet it face-to-face. He ran for the door, shoving aside fallen chairs, bones, papers... the sound of a raspy church organ, deafeningly loud, roared behind him. He was breathing rapidly; he didn't bother to even consider looking back. The door was in sight, at last! He leapt for the door!

     A clawed hand caught his foot. His hand scraped against the door. He saw the skull he had used as a doorstop: he had to push it out of the way.

    Officer Hallstone kicked and struggled against the creature's grasp. He reached his hand out a bit farther... just a bit farther, and... and...

     The skull dislodged from the door, and it began to slide close. He couldn't save himself, but he could stop this monster from being unleashed upon the world! One last act in his final moments! That was his dying thought, as he was thrown against the wall.

********************

     A claw slid through the closing door.

"What... do your wings look like... are they pretty... like... mine...?"

THE END
« Last Edit: September 03, 2013, 10:44:44 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #10 on: September 10, 2013, 10:41:02 AM »

A Quiet Peace part 1

     A man shoots up from bed as his alarm blares, groggy and generally looking as if he isn't too keen on actually getting out of his bed. This man is no average John Doe, however. No, the man you see before you is one Mr. Joel Strathem, mid-forties, a man with a lot of power and an ego to match- an ego which, this very day, will make his britches feel just a little too tight for comfort, for what may be the first time in his entire life.

     Strathem's morning routine was nothing of note; his morning commute was as boring as ever. Though he enjoyed the comfy suburbs where he made his home, his company's headquarters was surrounded by city roads clogged with traffic; being the head of one of the largest growing tech companies in the midwest had its benefits, though: for one, he always arrived at work an hour later than any of the other employees- not a minute early nor late- and nobody could complain. His company mostly developed downsized recording devices for private investigators, but they also worked with local police and the FBI, jobs that had earned them a good, strong reputation among the surveillance industry.

     Just as soon as Strathem dropped into his office chair, his secretary barged in, pushing the door open just before it had fully closed.

"Uh, sir?" she blurted out, "There's a Mr. Mueller down in the lowest floor that wants to see you."

     Strathem couldn't help but groan internally. Richard Mueller had been relegated to the basement years ago; he was a visionary, sure, but his ideas were far too ahead of his time, and, Strathem thought, he was even a little bit on the insane side. He figured that giving Mueller exclusivity of the "lowest floor" would make him less of a nuisance to himself and the other employees. Plus, he always kept all the supplies organized well; if he couldn't be fired, why not put him to some work that was actually useful to the company?

"What does that little basement rat want?" he grumbled, quite loudly. His secretary looked slightly taken aback; rarely had she heard him so crass, even though others had heard him much worse.

"He said that it's been a while since you checked on him and he wants you to see what he's been working on."

"Fine, fine, tell him I'll be right down."

********************

     Strathem wasn't a man who liked being on his feet all the time, perhaps due to some back problems, or other ailments of an aging body, and the stairs leading down to the basement certainly did not treat him very well. There was an elevator down there, probably, but it was most likely blocked off by old machinery that nobody wanted but was too valuable to toss out. Bins of dusty paperwork were stacked neatly along the hallways; although Mueller's room wasn't a very long distance from the stairs, the arrangement of the bins made it seem longer, almost hazardous. Strathem would just as gladly have sent an intern down to satiate Mueller's request, but no, that would be too simple- the man wanted to hear straight from the boss.

     Mueller turned his chair right as Strathem entered the little room where he worked, catching his boss slightly off guard. Seeing Mueller's beady eyes and his almost inhumanly-narrow nose didn't help to make him feel any more comfortable.

"Urgh... what is it now, Mueller?"

"Hey there, boss man! Long time no see!" Mueller flashed a faint smile. "See, uh, I was working on this little nanobug here," he held up what looked to be a little box, no more than half an inch wide, with leg-like wires poking out the sides, "and I though you'd like to hear what it does. I think it could be the next big thing, I mean..."

     Strathem interrupted him by sliding over and grabbing the invention from Mueller's hand.

"This doesn't look very 'nano' to me," he complained.

"Well, that's just a nickname, technically, because I thought it would make it sound more interesting, sir!"

"It's junk," he spoke, as he curtly dropped it on the desk and headed toward the door.

"But sir!" Mueller sprung up from his chair as he tried to chase Strathem to the door, "I'd like to hear more of your thoughts on it! Please, for once? I mean, you haven't even heard what makes it... fascinating."

     Strathem paused, and let out a breath of air.

"This bug... this little jewel... once placed, it can maneuver itself around as necessary. The internal computation system tells it where the best place to hide is based on stimuli from the environment or from a controller. Of course, it's only a work in progress- it might not work so swimmingly in practice. But..." he stuttered a little, "if we had more testing for it..."

"Get your head out of the clouds, Mueller. It's not going to work." Once again, he started to walk away.

"If for once, just once, I could change your mind..." Mueller mused to himself. "Wait, wait!" he poked his body out of the door, "How much would you be willing to bet that it doesn't work? Would you be willing to... say... be a guinea pig for the first test?"

     For once, Strathem looked genuinely intrigued by something Mueller had suggested. Perhaps he saw a chance to stroke his own ego; maybe it was his attempt to finally try and get rid of Mueller. Either way, it was on.

     The details were quickly arranged. A team of four would be dispatched to Strathem's house early the next day to scout the house, calibrate the nanobug, and install it. Strathem would be given a brief brochure on the nanobug's behaviors- hastily written by Mueller for the occasion- and a month to locate it. He and Mueller would remain in contact through text messages, if Strathem so wanted; other than that, Strathem would have no outside help or interference. That night, Strathem went to bed confident, not knowing that his attempt at bravado would soon backfire.

TO BE CONTINUED, IN PART 2
« Last Edit: April 15, 2016, 06:51:08 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #11 on: September 18, 2013, 04:01:43 AM »

A Quiet Peace part 2

WORK IN PROGRESS

********************
« Last Edit: April 13, 2016, 11:31:48 PM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #12 on: October 28, 2013, 09:53:21 AM »

A Quiet Peace part 3

TO BE FINISHED: MAY 2017
« Last Edit: March 26, 2017, 11:43:32 PM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #13 on: October 28, 2013, 11:35:33 AM »

Halloween Horror Special 2013 part 1
Pizza Delivery

     It was the twenty-eighth of October, and a fierce rainstorm raged outside. Marco Davis sat in his house, downing a bottle of rum. Since his father died when he was twenty-one, he had turned to drinking to ease his troubled thoughts, and spent most nights, especially ones like this, drunk. Despite this, though, he had become a successful entrepreneur; in fact, people now said that he practically ran the town.

     Marco kept drinking until he had drained the last drop of the bottle, and then, he smashed the empty bottle into the ground; he grumbled to himself and wandered towards the kitchen. He sorted clumsily through the cabinets, but found no more of his treasured rum.

     "Errrrr... gotta go down to the wine cellar again..."

     He again wandered around the house until he finally found the key, taped the the back of the wardrobe.

     "She thinks she can hide it from me... hah! She don't know..." he trailed off in his sentence, grumbling about barely audible gibberish."

     Half-falling down the steps to the wine cellar, he started to insert the key into the lock, but it fell to the ground with a clink. He reached down to pick it up, but then he heard a loud knocking at the door. He wondered who could be knocking at the door at this time of night and during this rough a storm, but he was drunk enough to not care, and as the knocking persisted, he made his way back up the stairs and to the front door. Throwing open the door, he screamed.

     "Who issss it!?!? What loon'd stand out in the rain and..."

     Nobody was there.

     "Mmmm... kids... grrrr..."

     Marco went back and opened up the wine cellar. Entering the slightly cold room, he stared around at the empty shelves of wine; only one had any bottles on it at all, and even then, there were only six bottles.

     "I need to go to store in the mornin' and get some wine, rum... and maybe some vodka... yeah, that sounds good."

     He pulled a random bottle from the shelf, left the room, locked the door, and ascended the steps once more. He went to the living room and sat down in a chair facing the television. Grabbing the remote, he turned the TV on- only static showed on the screen.

     KNOCK. KNOCK.

     KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. The sound rang out across the house. Marco stumbled and slipped, trying to get up from the chair. He used the wine bottle to push himself up from the ground, and clambered to the door, smashing into the wall several times along the way. By the time he had reached the door, the knocks slowed a bit, but they were still there. Marco unlocked the front door's lock and opened it. A young man, wearing the uniform of a pizza delivery man, was standing there as the rain crashed around him; he held up a box of pizza.

    "Excuse me Mr. Davis. Your pizza is here. I'm afraid it's gotten cold."

     Marco screamed as if he had seen a ghost. He fell backwards and hit the floor hard. He scrambled to kick the door shut, and propped his back against it to keep it closed. Hyperventilating, he reached up and scratched at the handle, reaching for the lock; he hurriedly shut it with a click. He crawled across the floor back to the living room, and fell on his side, staring towards the TV. He lost consciousness...

********************

     When he woke up, the TV's screen was alight, but something was wrong: it was frozen on a single image- a news report. Marco wiped his eyes with his sleeve and looked up. "Rising businessman kills delivery man in a drunken rage," the report read. The date was October 28, 1993, twenty years ago.

     "No, no," he stammered, "that never happened. They never found out who did it. No, NO! AHHH!"

     He felt a tap on his shoulder.

     "You still owe me thirty dollars, Mr. Davis; I don't think my boss would be happy if I didn't return."

     "NO!" Marco cried out, "you're dead! You've been dead for twenty years! You're just a figment of my imagination- a drunken illusion!"

     "Alcohol is a bad influence, Mr. Davis."

     Marco ran over to the room's coffee table, and from one of its drawers he pulled a bent knife, still stained with faded red. He turned around and, reaching out, slashed at the phantasm. All of his attacks passed through harmlessly.

     "Like your weapon, you still haven't yet wiped the stains from your life. When, Mr. Davis, will you finally change?"

     "Leave me, demon! Leave me!"

     Marco screamed and ran through the phantasm, and tripped halfway down the stairs to the wine cellar. He found that he had previously left the key in the lock, and opened the door. He went through, and sorted through the shelves until he found the one with the bottles: he grabbed them by twos and threes and threw them at the wall, then, at long last, pushed the shelf over- it crashed backwards. He ran out after his mission was completed and locked the door once more. He climbed the stairs and ran to the front door. Throwing the door open, he ran out into the rain, which had diminished slightly since earlier, and kept going, the key still in hand. He ran across a muddy path and into the woods until he came upon an overflowing lake; standing at the edge, he pulled his arm back and catapulted the key as far away as he could.

     "Take your blood offering, demon! Take it and never haunt me again! Let me be free; free, I say!"

     Marco Davis fell to his knees in the muddy banks and screamed, and cried. At last, he would be free of his inner demons, whether they be alcohol, memories of a dead father, or just an ordinary pizza delivery man.

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2: SHE WILL COME
« Last Edit: October 29, 2013, 05:29:42 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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Re: BlackDragonSlayer's Short Stories
« Reply #14 on: October 29, 2013, 10:32:47 AM »

Halloween Horror Special 2013 part 2
She Will Come

     The hospital room was an absolute mess: for starters, the window was shattered, the curtains were ripped and draped over all the monitoring equipment, the bed was turned on its side, the bathroom door had been ripped off its hinges, and the TV wasn't working. When Charles's nurse first discovered the mess, she was stunned, and just stood there looking it for a few minutes until she called hospital's police. When they finally got up to the room, they discovered the young boy Charles huddled in a corner, shaking, speechless, pale... they tried to evoke a response for him, but even after an hour, he had said absolutely nothing. Then, during the middle of the night, he began speaking, although as if to himself. The night watchman called everybody over, and they listened to what the boy said, listening intently for the answers to their questions: where was the boy's father? What had happened? What caused the destruction? Soon, they would find out, but would they be ready for the answer?

********************

     You could say that the events leading up to the disaster started on October twenty-ninth, but then again, that would not be the whole story... in fact, the tale actually began on the twenty-fifth of October. If one wanted to go further, they could say that the events started on October seventeenth of the year 2002, when young Charles was born. But, to keep the length of our story reasonable, we shall start on October thirteenth of the year 2006.

     Charles's parents were Bernie and Victoria Hunston; for them, October was a wonderful month. It was the month when they had met, the month when they had married, and, most importantly to them, a time of new beginnings; thus, every one of their friends and relatives thought it was fitting when their only son Charles was born in October. In a tragic way, Charles was a new beginning for the couple... most certainly not one they had expected, and most certainly not a happy one. From birth, Charles was a very sickly child: doctors fought to keep him alive so he would hopefully grow stronger, and try to find out what exactly was wrong with Charles.

     Thus it was that, on the night of October thirteenth, 2006, Bernie and Victoria Hunston were engaged in a vicious argument, over Charles, of all people...

********************

     "You've stopped caring about Charles!" Victoria yelled at Bernie, "you've stopped caring about me!"

     "Yeah, so I'm at work half the day! We have medical bills to pay! I don't see you doing much else either!"

     "Well at least I'm concerned about him!"

     "How can you accuse me of not caring!?!?"

     And their loud "discussion" continued on for more than a half hour; it escalated even to physical violence, and, at the end, Victoria demanded that Bernie leave, or else she would call the police; he had no choice but to leave, still bitter over their argument, and the accusations she had hurled at him. Every day from then until the twentieth, Bernie called Victoria; the only time she answered, she renewed her threat to call the police if he came near her. Then, from the twentieth on, Bernie plotted... disgruntled and crazed, he searched across the city... for a hitman... no insurance policy, no discernible motive- nobody knew about the events of the previous week. The hitman would attack Victoria as she was running her daily errands, kill her, and take her purse- make it look like an ordinary mugging. Then the hitman would get in his car and drive off to avoid detection.

     On October twenty-ninth, 2006, Victoria Hunston was robbed and murdered; the unknown assailant drove off and was lost in traffic before anybody noticed him. His journey took him far north; for several weeks, however, he was delayed, and by the time he was nearing his destination, snow had already started to fall... when crossing a bridge, his car skidded on ice and crashed through the flimsy guard railing, and into the icy river below. Nobody would ever know what he had done- the plot he had partaken in- except for the man who hired him. In the wake of Victoria's death, Bernie became the sole caretaker of Charles; it seemed like Bernie forgot Victoria's death quickly, something that caused murmurings among his relatives...

********************

     Aside from the usual, nothing of significant happened in the lives of Charles and Bernie Hunston until the day of October the twenty-fifth, 2013. That was the day that Charles came down with a terrible case of pneumonia, and the day his father had to take him to the hospital for treatment and more observation.

     On the twenty-sixth of October, everything was normal. Bernie read to his child throughout the day as Charles coughed and wheezed; by the end of the day, Bernie was feeling well enough about his son's care that he left the hospital room for a few minutes to go walk around and talk to some friends. During this brief time, something did happen: someone unexpected entered Charles's room to pay him a visit. People who saw her in the hall couldn't describe her features very well, but called her a "shrouded woman," with "long, dark, flowing hair." She was apparently in the room for quite some time, and when Charles was awake, but he never mentioned to anybody about who she was or why she was there, and for some reason, nobody else did either, until after the disaster in the room.

     On the twenty-seventh of October, Bernie heard something that unnerved him.

     "She will come, she will come," Charles whispered.

     "Who?" Bernie asked, in a quiet voice.

     "She," Charles repeated.

********************

     The year before; twenty-fifth of October, 2012. Charles was playing out in the backyard of his family's house; the sun was starting to set.

     "Dinner will be ready soon, Charlie," his father called from inside, "do you want to come in now?"

     Charles saw something through the fence, and wasn't paying attention to what his father had said. After his father repeated his statement, Charles responded: "'Yeah, in a minute dad..."

     He walked up to the fence and looked through; he jumped back and gasped when he saw somebody on the other side, trying to reach through.

     "Charlie my boy... Charlie... come here..." a woman's voice spoke to him.

     He turned around and ran toward the house, calling for his father. Upon investigating the spot where Charles saw the woman, he found a pair of earrings that had dropped on the ground; he picked them up and, getting a closer look at them, shuddered.

     "It's nothing Charlie; it's all right..."

********************

     The twenty-eighth of October was uneventful; not even the woman from the previous night appeared. However, Charles seemed uncomfortable, for some reason, as if he was expecting something to happen soon, but when his father asked him what was wrong, he said that nothing was wrong. He refused to eat that night, saying that he felt queasy. The night went well.

     The next day, the twenty-ninth of October, Bernie awoke earlier than usual. He decided to leave his son alone for a bit and walk around. After he circled around the floor of the hospital a few times, he decided to go back to Charles's room. He tried to go back along the route he had been traveling before, but he quickly got lost; he stopped to get his bearings, and while he wasn't moving, he saw a woman walking slowly along the hall, away from him. He ran toward her to ask for directions, but she turned around, stared at him, then started running away.

     "Hey, wait!" he said to her, "I need to know where my son's room is! I'm lost!"

     He heard laughter, and when he was running out of breath, the woman got ahead of him and turned around a corner. When he finally caught up, he saw a woman in a hospital gown, lying on the floor, limp. He reached out to check her pulse, and found that she was dead.

     "Oh no," he whispered under his breath.

********************

     Bernie ran to the room, but he was so lost that he was too late by the time he had entered. He saw another woman, standing over the bed, looking at Charles. She didn't look like his wife, but for some reason, he knew it was her.

     "I'm the one you want; don't hurt him."

     "Yes, that's right," the chilling voice called out to him; he knew it was her, "I'm here to take you over; now, will you come willingly?"

     "There has to be somebody to take care of Charlie."

     "Someone better than you."

     "I made a mistake."

     "Yes you did. A fatal one, for me and for you." She leaped at him.

********************

     "There's something wrong with that boy; I think he was really affected by whatever happened in there," the officer stated as he was walking out of the building, talking to the boy's doctor, "I'm afraid we'll never know what really happened in there."

     The officer left the building; he saw a dropped cup on the ground, and went over to it, picking it up and placing it in the trash can. He looked up, and saw something in the bushes- or, rather, something wrong with the bushes. He got out his flashlight and turned it on: in the bushes were two bodies- one of a man and another of a woman in a hospital gown; the woman had a choke hold on the man. For some reason, he decided to look back up at the hospital. Almost directly above, he saw a broken window.

STAY TUNED FOR PART 3: THE TALE OF DR. GOODE
« Last Edit: October 30, 2013, 07:03:48 AM by BlackDragonSlayer »
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And the moral of the story: Quit while you're a head.

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