Tag: horror

Monster in the mirror

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When I look in the mirror, I see a monster.
This hideous monster looks back at me, giving me just as thorough an inspection as I give it.
He follows me from mirror to mirror, never leaving me alone.
I’ve been tempted to smash the mirrors, but cracking them might smash the barrier between our worlds and let him step through to our world.
No, I cannot do that.
Instead, I cover the mirrors.
Frustrated, he tries to spy on me in the bottoms of pots and pans. Or in the sheen of a just-washed dinner plate.
Stay away, monster.

Downgrade

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The closer to the front, the quicker you handle support calls.
Even though it’s important to get grunts’ systems back up and running so they can fight, the real issue is purely self-preservation.
Sure, you can remote or tell the grunt to reboot. Or they’ll pull out a spare and send the damaged unit back, but some situations demand hands-on solutions.
This was one of them. And as I was racing to the front, my jeep hit a landmine. Blew everything to bits around me.
And into me. Doctors are still picking bits and pieces out of my bloody gut.

Sic Semper Jesus

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“Why hast thou forsaken me?” mumbled Jesus, twisting in agony.
God looked down on his son and smirked.
“You want to know why?” asked God. “You were showing off, kid.”
“Showing off?” groaned Jesus. “I was performing miracles. For your glory. To demonstrate your awesome power.”
“No,” said God. “To demonstrate yours, not mine.”
“Who is he talking to?” mumbled a soldier.
“I thought he was talking to you,” said another soldier.
“Oh, just spear him and let’s go home,” said the first soldier.
“You do it,” said the other soldier.
So, they rolled dice to decide.
Obviously, Jesus lost.

Oh Lord!

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Pain… so much pain…
The priest pats my ankle and tells me everything is going to be fine.
No it won’t. I’ve been nailed up here all morning.
All I’ve known in this life has been pain.
And it fucking hurts like Hell.
I wish they’d never found my blood on the Spear of Destiny. With the DNA, it took the cloners four months, and now they’re geared for global mass-production.
Truly, it’s Communion gone mad.
If I were fed pieces of myself, would they turn to wine and crackers in my stomach?
I feel the knife.
Damn you all!

Down in the Den

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If you want to come in Hell’s Den, you need to play by the rules:
Leave your shoes outside. Your socks, too.
Cut the knuckles on your left hand with a silver knife.
Knock three times. Two raps, a pause, and then one hard knock.
Really hard. It’s a long way down, and it’s sometimes hard to hear.
Stand back. Door opens fast.
No saints allowed.
Only sinners.
Got diseases? Bad diseases?
Good. The more the better.
But when you come to Hell’s Den, come alone.
Once you’re inside, trust me, you won’t be lonely.
Tell them Jesus sent you.

Jumping Gigawatts

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It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning was striking everywhere but Dr. Frankenstein’s lightning rods.
Transylvania Edison kept refusing to run industrial-grade capacity to his castle, so it was lightning or nuclear.
Sure, Dr. Frankenstein was mad, but he wasn’t crazy. Lightning it was.
And without lightning tonight, his creature couldn’t come to life.
He called the rod manufacturer’s tech support line when the phones went dead.
That’s right. Lightning had struck the telephone pole.
Not even a dial tone.
He shrugged, hooked up the creature to the phone line, and that’s when lightning hit the rods.
Go figure.

The Coffin That Viper Built

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Count Viper may not have been born a Yankees fan centuries ago, but he certainly died one.
Twice.
For eighty years, the Count took in every night game, feeding on rude fans.
Well, never the ones with 3 on their back, out of respect for Ruth.
Last year, Alex Rodriguez shattered his bat and a piece flew into the stands where Viper had been a permanent fixture.
It pierced the vampire’s heart and reduced him to ash instantly.
A minute later, one of those rude fans brushed the Count’s ashes aside and watched the Yankees lose to the Red Sox.

Invitation

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Even though the Red Cross has opened up multiple massive shelters for the survivors of Hurricane Katrina, it is imperative that people are moved out to smaller accommodations.
Large, anonymous masses of people afford opportunities for criminal elements, or much worse kinds of predators.
Many people are opening their homes without any question or fear, but just as the dead float in the flooded streets, some still walk them.
Whether voodoo zombie or vampire, protections against inviting undead into your home should be in place. I’d suggest greeting your new roommate with plenty of garlic and exposed mirrors.
In daylight.

If you give up that right

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He has the right to remain silent.
I wish he’d use it.
I swear, I’ve never heard a guy shriek so much. The whole trip back to the station, he’s done nothing but scream at the top of his lungs.
Just when I think he’s ready to stop, he just gets even louder.
Bastard.
Okay, so procedure says he’s supposed to go in the back seat and not on the hood, but I’ve got a birthday cake in the seat.
And the trunk’s full of presents.
No way he’s sitting up here with me.
Two more blocks.
Hold on, pal.

The Road To Hickburg

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Sue and Johnny eloped to Hickburg, thinking they’d have the local Justice of the Peace marry them.
It’s what every pair of young star-crossed lovers did in Fayette. It’s what each of their parents did in their time. Their grandparents, too, if you could believe anything those old farts ever said.
Driving down the road to Hickburg, the trees got thicker and thicker.
They never did get to the town, as if the forest had just swallowed it up.
So, they went to Vegas. Lived happily ever after, too.
Years later, the forest ate Fayette.
And it’s headed this way.