“I won’t make it much longer,” he lamented in a cracking voice through his parched lips. He had been hiking alone on a mountain trail when he fell about one hundred feet, breaking his fall temporarily by a jutting sapling, ending up on a snowy mountain ledge.

Since it had been three weeks now and no one knew his hiking route, he realized he might never be found. He had already consumed his little store of food and only was able to get liquid from the melting snow.

Water was not a problem but he needed solid food and realized he must get some protein before he starved. Looking downward at his lower leg, he talked to himself, “There is a lot of good meat on my leg.”

Desperate to survive until he could be found, he made a decision. Pulling out his knife from its sheath, he began to do what he must! Smacking his lips, he thoroughly enjoyed his last meal before closing his eyes in a feeling of endless peace. Sadly, his body was never recovered.

We walked and I swallowed hard against the revolt in my throat. I would not make a spectacle. Not on this day. Deep breaths. Slowly. We walked but seemed to cover no ground. The stark platform in the distance was inevitable. The crowds that lined the street jeered us and blessed us. Time writhed around us, at times so far from reach that it seemed to have stopped only to turn and drive us toward our fate. This kind of walk cast the nature of life into stark relief. Focus has strange timing.

We arrived at the platform. Our footfalls drew creaking protest from the quickly cobbled steps. They were uneven. My breathing was ragged as I looked over the crowd that gathered. I recognized some of them. I wondered what thoughts were in their minds even as I took my place. The fibrous rope made me shiver. I looked away from the knots. How had it come to this?

The air stilled. Everything grew silent. I nodded once toward the sky.

Then I pulled the lever.

Why did he split away from the rest of the troops? Why didn’t he do what he was told for once? Damn him!

Damn me.

This isn’t the first time I rode into battle with him.

Got three more.

Oh, God, it hurts! I can’t reach back to pull the arrow out and concentrate on the Indians at the same time. Got another one.

Almost out of bullets. It’s hopeless. I can barely see six, maybe seven more soldiers fighting. Custer fell a few minutes after we were surprised with their plan of attack.

I want to scream out loud, the pain is so bad! Two more arrows have punctured my left leg and my back.

Now I can see two other men still standing, no, make that one. I got one more. Two bullets left. Now, I’m the last one left.

Three Indians dismount and are coming my way! I fire. One falls. I cock the hammer back again, and use what strength I have left to stand, bad leg and all, and laugh loudly. The laugh of the insane.

The Indians stop for a moment, stare at me and speak to each other in their native tongue, then come rushing at me. Both have their tomahawks raised high preparing to kill me and then take my hair.

Screw that.

I raise the gun to my head.

Inhale.

Squeeze the trigger.

End of story.

She killed the beast, it was nearly the most difficult thing she ever did in her life. She would never be arrested for the homicide, for the beast, even though it was humanoid in appearance, was obviously something more sinister. She would not be praised for the act either. The media would miss giving the disgusting reports of the carnage of deaths in the beast’s wake.

A beast killed her parents and siblings, when she was a child. She wasn’t sure if this was the same beast, but she knew in her depths that this was the last remaining of it’s kind. It said as much with it’s dying breath, even as it cackled at the thought of it.

A beast killed her roommate in college, savagely. The only way they could identify the body was with dental records, even so, they had to put her jaw back together first. She vowed to hunt and kill the beasts where ever she could find them.

She had killed 7 of them, before this one. Hunted them down like the beast that they were. Showed them no mercy, even though they never asked for any.

But, this beast, the last beast bit her, and all knew what happened from a beast bite. You became a beast yourself, eventually. So now she sat there, knowing she killed the last beast, and wondering if she had the strength to do the most difficult thing in her life. To kill herself before she became herself what she had hunted, and despised for so long. She could already feel the beast’s passions start to flow through her veins. And she liked how it felt. The blade of her knife rested precariously on her wrist. It would only take one quick swipe…

Ugh. I’m so stuck. I have a story to write in an hour (because I’ve procrastinated, but that’s not the point), and I can’t even think of a first line! Shit.

Um... okay, so the story has to be about a girl in the Great Depression...

Man, I should have paid attention in class. The bus goes over a bump and the rubric falls into the water. Bigger shit. I need to turn that in with my story.

I pick it up after someone steps on it. A big muddy footprint makes it impossible to read. All I can read is factual accuracy.

Hmm... the Great Depression... What was that again? A mass suicide? Yeah, okay. I’ll do that. A mass suicide.

Now for the first line...

“Anna! Get your lazy — down here!”

“Coming, Mom.” I dragged my feet hopelessly down the stairs. Another day. What’s the point?

The only hope is a cause. They call it the “Great Depression”. It’s either therapy or suicide, and either way, I’ve got to get to it. My mom sends me off to school with no food and I turn the wrong way, heading for GD headquarters.

I push open the door.

“Hello? I want to sign up.” A man appears out of nowhere.

“Do you know who we are?” He rasps. I jump.

“Dude. Can you not? Where is everyone?”

“Preparing.”

“For what?”

“The Great Suicide.”

“Ooh, me too.” The man hands me a gun.

I take it, and he starts counting down.

“5...4...3... 2... 1... GO!” Me and him shoot ourselves at the same time.

Okay, that’s good enough, I hope. I walk to class to find the teacher making an announcement.

“Due to... circumstances, the story is due tomorrow.”

Well shit.

"You know, you are so damn selfish. You suck the air right out of the room and think nothing of it. Why can't you give some of us a chance. Make some room for us. No you can't, can you. You have to come over here looking so inviting. Seductively titillating everyone of them, not giving the slightest consideration to any of us. Don't give me your "I'm innocent" line again. I heard that last year, the year before and as far back as memory serves. You just come around year after year and steal the show right from under us. All of us we are sick of it! Sick and tired of the one up manship. All of them around us, they don't know the half of it. You continue to fool them with those breasts of yours hanging out. Cover up for Christ's sake, but I must say they do look rather plump and juicy, ripe for the taking. What am I doing! Put a sock in it! You almost had me too with those things hanging out, damn you. I'm not going to fall for it. How could you be so self-serving." Said the broccoli to the turkey.

Deep within the confides of her stepfather’s tower, little Regan Gravely slipped behind a large metal door, making sure no one followed or witnessed. She wasn’t allowed back there. She very well knew this from the start. Lu and all the other demons warned her and her sister they were never allowed to go behind that door—not without any supervision or protection by them. But there were friends behind that forbidden door that she wanted to play with.

Entering the forbidden room, the young mortal found herself in a black fog misting an empty environment. The howl of a dog echoed loudly. But Regan recognized is was from no ordinary dog. The fog fadded, unveiling three giant creatures, the infamous hellhounds, surrounding her. Their heads were long and narrow—common in all canines—and triangular ears atop. Their bodies, bigger than a school bus, however, lacked any fur. No skin either. It was rock and brimstone, and clouds of ash and black smoke seeping out of cracks along their bodies. A third stood directly in front of Regan. This one was much like the others yet twice their size. She also had a short muzzle and a star-shaped scar over her left eye. Their pearly white were barred out. Their boiling red eyes glared hungrily at the small girl.

Regan stood still, unafraid. “Hi, friends!” she greeted, smiling as ever.

The monstrous canines panted heavy and their tails wagged wildly—enough to dust a layer of soot off their thin tails—overjoyed their human child companion’s return. Even Big Momma, the scarred alpha of the pack, lapped her sticky tongue along the girl’s body, tickling her.

“Hey, no kisses!” Regan laughed while she pushed their large muzzles away. “Who’s ready for a tea party?”

#sinsofthefather #fiction #fantasy #comedy #horror

The leaves fluttered across the ground gently in the cool night breeze. My hair ruffled with them, blowing gently around my face and giving me a small shiver down my spine. Then, ever so slowly, the hair on my arms began to rise, as an unsettling feeling began to grow within me. The previously cool breeze seemed to turn into invisible lines of ice, jagged streaks of cold air digging small pits and goosebumps all over my arms and neck. Then, admist the cold and confusing swirls of despair, I felt it. The feeling of a predators gaze, sharp focused ice that pierced passed the swirls and stabbed right into my rapidly beating heart and bearing a searching look upon my soul. It reached into my very depths and yanked a gasp out of me, as I twirled with the wind, looking for the source of that all powerful gaze. I circled once, then twice, then a third time, looking for anything amiss- anything to signify that I was in immediate danger. When I could find nothing, I continued on the path through the park, paranoia strong and suspicion heavy within my mind, the constant pressure of that unseen gaze unyielding. I turned a corner, heard the shift of the brush, and had just enough time to give a startled cry- before the snowball friend had expertly crafted hit me square in the face, the force and shock of it making me fall to the ground. I scrambled away with my snowball still clutched delicately against my chest, and when I had a clear shot I returned fire with an even greater force. Laughing as my friend fell, I ran for the trees, hoping to get some cover as I remade my weapon. As I crouched, he slit my throat.

Dr. Skylar gently placed the petri dishes onto the microscope stage, & looked at the change taking place. The lights of the room, at that moment started to fade out. She clapped her hands thinking that maybe they sensed that no one was in the room. The lights then came back to an absolute brightness.

Then she heard a loud sound of a heart beating. It pounded rhythmically right close to her. Was that her heart thumping away in such a state?

Something brushed her at the back of her neck, pulling her ponytail braid to the side. The temperature of the laboratory fell to an unusual extremely freezing temperature. When she turned around, there it was with its wide eyes staring down at her.

The thing squinted it’s eyes and growled. She was tossed to the floor. It saw the petri dishes and stood for a while waitin’ for the results. Dr. Skylar got up slowly and grabbed a solution filled syringe from her pocket. She rushed toward the thing. The solution was administered through it’s neck.

Dr. Skylar took a deep breath. She placed the syringe back in her pocket and watched the thing lying on the ground with no movement. The experiment was in stage two. Now she had to wait to see what would happen come stage three.

The other scientists were not so sure about what her research was about. But she just told them to wait till she had completed working on her current/latest science research project. Dr. Skylar smiled. She couldn’t wait to share her discovery with her colleagues.

#overhaul.

In the hotel room,

I saw the sofa,

So , of course I checked

under the cushions

for loose change or anything else.

Wouldn't you?

All I found was some dirt

and a folded note.

"Is that it?" Was written on it.

Under that,

in a completely different handwriting,

there was another line:

"Yes. That's all there is"

And a third line, also different script:

"Can we talk about that?"

So I grabbed my pen

added to the thread:

"Not negotiable.

This is what you get ,

whatever it is."

I folded the note again,

and pushed it back,

under the cushions.