Tag: horror

My Medicine

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I wake up, naked, surrounded by my servants.
They have strapped and chained me to a table.
I have a good view of the ceiling. Daylight through the windows.
I don’t taste blood. My hands aren’t sticky.
Still…
“I forgot my medicine again, didn’t I?” I asked.
“Yes,” said my secretary.
“How many died this time?”
“Seven, I think. You made quite a mess.”
They release the chains and straps, and I get up.
“Thank you for washing me off.”
“You made quite a mess.”
I must remember to take my medicine.
Or my prescription will change… to silver bullets.

Fizzy

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I never understood why people like those fizzy poprocks candies so much.
Then, someone watched how I was pouring the packet into my mouth and swallowing it.
“Put a little bit on your tongue,” she said.
“And?” I asked.
“Just let it sit there for a bit.”
So, I did, and that’s when I experienced the fizzling and popping flavors for the first time.
“When do they stop?” I asked.
But I couldn’t hear her answer. The popping had grown to a deafening, rumbling roar.
My tongue was numb, and blood started to run from the corners of my mouth.

Teaspoon

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The aliens don’t like water.
And for good reason. All it takes is just a little water to kill them. A teaspoon.
Walking around outside without an environment suit is like torture.
This is why it’s so important to keep them under guard around the clock.
People can be such jerks.
Tearing off a suit, knocking an alien into the water.
The worst was when some joker hacked the fire suppression system in the alien embassy.
The United Nations buildings ignored fire codes, but not the embassy.
That’s how the war started… and the oceans, rivers and lakes slowly vanished.

Cobblestones

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Every night I mark the cobblestones with chalk.
When I wake up, the markings are scattered around the street.
Does someone wipe off the markings and add them in new places or shuffles around the stones?
I tried to set up a video camera, but it’s far too dark. No streetlamp.
I’ve also tried to sit on the steps and watch the street, but I can’t stay up as late as I used to. I fall asleep on the steps.
I wake up, and the chalk marks are gone.
And then, I see myself in the mirror… they’re on me.

Grow Them Bigger

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“Close your eyes,” said the General. “And cover your ears.”
Seconds later, chunks of bloody, flaming Godzilla rained down on Tokyo.
The General uncovered his ears and opened his eyes.
And smiled.
People all over the city were cheering.
Getting the monster to eat the bomb without damaging it was a challenge.
Sticking pieces of the bomb in dead cow carcasses was the solution.
“They’re smart-assembly components,” said the General. “When they were all inside, they integrated and armed.”
After the cheering, bulldozers pushed Godzilla’s remains into the bay.
Where, slowly and painfully, they started to slide back together again…

The Werewolf

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Those damn cops had shot at us.
I lucked out, but the Werewolf didn’t.
The angry beast growls and licks his wounds, picking out bullets with his claws and tossing them into the gutter.
“They can’t kill me,” it says. “But it still fuckin’ hurts.”
I nod and watch the wounds.
The bleeding stops, and within a minute they’ve scarred over.
“Drowning is bad, but fire’s the worst.”
“Try taking a stake to your lung,” I say. “They don’t teach anatomy worth a damn anymore.”
He washes the blood off with the rain, and we head back down the alley.

The Asteroid

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Astronomers spotted the asteroid last week.
It didn’t take long to figure out it was coming this way.
Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
The governments of the world called for calm.
The police of the world tried to maintain order.
They failed. The people rioted.
That’s when someone remembered that the great science fiction authors had met with NASA to construct a plan.
But NASA had shelved the project and couldn’t find the report.
Harlan Elisson was the last one alive.
They went to his house, found he had shot himself, and read the simple note:
“Fuck you all.”

Catering

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Usually, when there’s a big company-wide conference call, they bring in pizza or boxed lunches.
However, this time, they brought in crates full of glowing ham-sized seed-pods to put on every employee’s forehead.
“Hell no,” I said. “I’m not going to let you mess with my brain like that.”
The secretary put the pod away and handed me a box lunch.
The box had T on W written on it. Sure enough, inside was a turkey on wheat with a side of coleslaw.
Of course, the bitch didn’t say anything about the nanoprobes.
I mean, Unit Seventy regrets any insult.

Not taking names

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I’m here to kick ass, but I’m not going to take names.
I forgot to bring a pen and paper. And it’s hard to take names on an iPhone when you’re kicking ass.
Sure, the phone has a decent keyboard, but it’s only good when you’re standing still.
Kicking ass jiggles your phone around a lot, and you’ll make a lot of spelling errors.
So instead of kicking ass and taking names, I’m just going to kick ass and then let the police check your wallet for your ID.
You left it at home?
Fine. He’ll use your dental records.

Easter Aftermath

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Easter is not a holiday I look forward to.
The kids want baby chicks and bunnies, but that the dog might not get along with them.
The dog I walk. And feed.
They cry. I tell them to shut up and go to their rooms.
This year, Joey got special candy, being diabetic and all, but his sister Sally shared some of hers with him.
Instead of hunting for eggs, we rushed to the Emergency Room.
When we got home, the dog had eaten all the chocolate and was lying on the carpet, dead.
Better him that Joey, I thought.