Here's the idea: Every day, I will set a timer for 30 minutes, and for that thirty minutes I will try my hardest to write a story. The stories will be random and I will try to complete them all before the 30 minutes ends. Sometimes I won't succeed, but that's half the fun!
Should a day be missed, and a story is felt to be adequate enough of a second part, a two part day will be created!
Let the game begin!
Today we started our attempts at opening the doors.
Everything we tried was futile.
As goofy as it may seem to say, we think the doors are locked.
At first we thought that the massive size of the door was keeping us from successfully just pushing or pulling them open, but we ultimately decided that it might just be that whoever was capable of building such massive doors, may have been capable of creating a massive key and lock to go with them.
The runes continue to concern me the most. Whatever is with the door definitely lies with whatever is written on that door. If I had known I would be trying to identify ancient script, I would have brought along some of my texts from my office, but I had not and so did not.
The symbols seems strange. In some places they are very jagged, while at other times they appear very fluid and loopy. I can’t even say, that when looking at them, that I’m even slightly reminded of anything other type of written languages known to man.
Mark tried dynamite on the door. I was just slightly disappointed that it didn’t work. Not that I had wanted the door to be blown to smithereens, but I had hoped that it might have gotten us a way into whatever is behind the doors. The strange thing is that the dynamite didn’t even leave a mark. I hadn’t expected it to work, seeing as the material the doors are made of seems unnaturally hard, but I did expect that the dynamite would have at least left a scratch or some residue, or something, but it didn’t. The smoke cleared, and there stood the doors, as though nothing had happened at all.
Mark grumbled and said that we should just try more dynamite, which he then showed, and shocked me. How he carried that much with him all this time is beyond me, but we talked him out of it.
There’s got to be another way for us to get through. I know there has to be.
October 25, 2009
We have decided that we need to be creative.
I think being away from fresh air and the sun, and the lack of food, is starting to get to people. I woke up this morning to the sound of one of Rachel’s students screaming, “Open Sesame!” in front of the doors, repetitively. I had to pull her kicking and screaming from the doors.
I tried to get a sample of the material that the door is composed of, but my knife was unable to cut away even a fraction.
Rachel, being the voice of reason, has started talking about going back; pointing out that if we stay down here any longer, we’re all sure to die.
Her suggestions all continue to be ignored.
The draw of the door is far too strong.
Mark suggested another dynamite idea, and we took him up on it. The doors are obviously too solid and hard to be blown up by themselves. So he came up with the idea to blow up the cave around the doors.
This was a very dumb idea, in all reality. We listened to a mad man holding sticks of dynamite, suggesting that we blow up the cave walls around us. This plan could have resulted in the entire cave falling in on us, killing us all very quickly, yet painfully. However, we took him up on the idea.
We decided to line the one door as high as we could with dynamite as well as some c4, hoping to get some affect. We succeeded.
The explosion was massive, and I was glad that we had chosen to stand very far away. The explosion cleared away a good amount of rock alongside the one door frame. We ran over to it quickly, but were disappointed to see that the door was very thick, and there was still further to go. We quickly turned to Mark. He pulled out some more c4 and a single stick of dynamite. He explained this would be our final attempt, and went about putting it inside the small passage the first explosion had created.
After the second explosion, we knew we had gotten through by the hiss of air that streamed out.
We all ran to the side of the door and felt the hot air rushing from the room beyond. The hole was small, and looking through, we couldn’t see that much. From what we could tell, it looked just like more of the same tunnel, but we refused to turn around now.
One of Rachel’s students pulled out a pick, and we went at it. Eventually we had a hole large enough to fit through.
Once on the other side, things changed.
I don’t care if you believe me or not, but this is where I am currently and what happened.
Hell is very real, and I am proud to be one of its discoverers.
Rachel, Mark and her students are unfortunately no longer with me, well, that is to say, they’re no longer with me in the human sense.
Pluto, Hades, Satan, Osiris, whatever you chose to call him, he is more massive and horrifying than you can imagine. His image changes every second, every one more terrifying than the last. He looked upon us when we first entered the chamber with a sense of amusement. He moved his arm in a grand sweep in front of Rachel, Mark and the students, and their bodies simply fell to the ground as wisps of smoke came up from their bodies, twisting in between his fingers. Their screams mixed together as he blew lightly at his hand and they drifted off into the distance into apparently whatever hell they saw fit.
There are no flames here, like in drawings. Rather, it seems that Hell is what you make of it. Imagine the underworld of Ancient Greece. The land changes before your eyes so you cannot see exactly one thing. It’s as though there are many different locations superimposed over one another. If you focus hard enough on one place, than you can see a beach more gorgeous than those of the Caribbean, or a desert more barren and deadly than the Sahara.
What you must be asking is why I was not swept up into Satan’s grasp, and the answer is not quite simple.
I have always been proficient at languages, and moments before Mark set off his last explosion, I finally understood one symbol on the door. I’m not sure where I had learned it, but I knew it, and once I knew that symbol, I was able to read the rest. It read: “Those who read these words and enter shall find safe haven from the master of the chambers beyond.”
There was more written that I was unable to decipher, but in that moment that his hand swept up the others, his eyes fell upon me and his many faces seemed to smile.
I was called in to this dig last week by one of my old students from when I taught at university. They said that it was something that they needed my expertise on.
Rachel was an excellent student that I had always felt had great potential. She went on several digs with me and required very little care. She handled herself like a professional, so when I received the call from her, now that she has been out, working in the field for almost six years now as a professional archeologist, as well as a prestigious university professor herself, I assumed that it was something serious and that I should get on the next plane out to her.
She said she had been digging in the United States. It had started as a standard dig, hoping to find some fossils, hopefully some dinosaur bones, out in the deserts of Arizona. She had told me that while investigating a strange formation, one of her students had accidentally stepped on a weak patch of ground.
There had been a storm in that area of the desert earlier that week, which was why they had gone there to begin with. The storm had changed the landscape and brought out some new finds that hadn’t been there before.
Apparently when this digger stepped in the wrong place, the ground gave out below him. He fell hundreds of feet, losing his life, sadly, of course.
The cave that he had fallen into was unknown. Before I journeyed out here, I did research trying to find some mention of it, but was unsuccessful. It didn’t exist as far as modern man knew. This is something that is very unlikely to find nowadays.
Needless to say, I was on the very next flight out of London.
The cave is extraordinary. I have never seen anything like it before.
We descended in and brought camping supplies with us.
It’s enormous. The magnitude of the place is unreal. How it hasn’t caved in after all of these years is a mystery to me. We’ve been walking the cave now for two days and still have yet to find an end. There are patches of the cave that are what you’d expect, small tunnels and narrow passes, where it takes a certain type of person to be able to shove themselves through, but at other times, you break out into amazing chambers as large as football fields.
October 18, 2009
We have found very little life down here. The quiet of the place is unsettling. We cover miles a day and yet we have still yet to find an end to the cave system.
October 20, 2009
Our quest took a random decrease. It’s as though every step we take is going further and further downhill, as though we’re going to come out on the other side of the world. The passage has also seemed to begun zig zagging. We’re no longer just going straight, but rather we seem to be going back and forth, as though it’s an enormous ramp, leading us somewhere.
October 22, 2009
We’re close to running out of supplies. Most specifically, water. We’re starting to think that we’ll need to turn around very soon, whether we reach the end or not. Tomorrow should probably be the last day if we want to be able to get back out.
Strange phenomenons are occurring. It at first got cold when we entered the cave; which made sense, but now it’s getting warmer and warmed every day we’re down here. We’ve joked several times that we’re approaching the center of the Earth.
October 23, 2009
Just when we were considering turning around, we came to the end. I don’t know what we thought we’d find at the end of the system, but we did not expect what we found.
At the end of our nine days down here, we would expect that we’d reach an exit, or a wall, something that made logical sense when it came to caves, but instead, we found a set of doors.
The doors stands no less that forty feet. Its handles are twenty feet above our heads and it seems to be made out of some sort of cold black substance. We thought at first that it might be onyx, but the texture doesn’t seem right. It’s warm to the touch. It has some sort of runes on it that I have never seen before. I have studied ancient writing for years, but these symbols seem foreign to me.
We’ve camped out in front of the door, trying to figure what we should do, now that we found it. We worry that we can’t go back now that we’re here. We need to figure out what the door goes to. Curiosity is a terrible thing, and it has taken a hold of all of us.
Rachel’s boyfriend, Mark, an archeologist himself, but more into the idea of blowing stuff up to make discoveries than others in the field, has discussed the idea of using dynamite to see if we can break through the strange door. The other five people in the party, not including Rachel and myself feel that there has to be a better way and strive to keep the door intact. It is, for no other reason that appearance, a priceless artifact all its own.
Mark is continually trying to convince us that blowing it up is the best way. It has been hours. I understand, being a man myself, the desire to blow things up. I think it’s some sort of desire to show dominance over it, but I’m still refusing.
We’ve began pushing off meals.
We’re hoping that, whatever is behind these doors, there may be some food as well.
I’m starting to allow myself the belief that Shangri-La may be behind those doors. Tomorrow we start trying to open them.
“Why do you want to kill my lion?!” the little girl cried.
“Because I want a fur coat.”
The shot of the gun was deafening.
Becca was a 15 year old TV superstar known for her role as the Virgin Mary in Jerusalem 90210. Her hobbies included knitting, archery and drinking with other celebrities and dodging the paparazzi on the roads while driving home after a long night of partying.
On Mondays she eats only bran. She believes that by eating bran on Mondays, she can eat whatever she wants all the other days of the week without consequence.
She legally defected from her parents when she was 5. She had won 1st place in a Little Miss Boise Pageant and realized she was too great to be controlled by anyone, including her parents.
At the age of 6 she bought her first mansion in LA, after she starred in a string of “adult” pictures.
At the age of 12, she had her first abortion, and at 13, she had her first child.
Bubbly Girl Child Smith was born on January 3rd and never met her father. 10 years from now she will be found dead in a back alley from an overdose of heroin after a party to celebrate her first platinum album.
Becca wanted to start a cult. She didn’t want to be in it, she wanted to be the focus of it. She figured, why not her? Why shouldn’t people be worshipping her in the streets and killing themselves in her name? After all, she was the freaking Virgin Mary!
“Jeeves!” she yelled out.
Becca’s butler came into the room, dressed in a pink suit of Becca’s choosing.
“Miss Smith, my name is William, ma’am.”
“Jeeves, I want a pony that can fly, and I want more priceless gems for my pool, and I want you to hire people to start a cult in my name.”
“Ma’am, flying ponies are hard to come by, your gem pool is overflowing, and you already started the cult a week ago. Haven’t you see the news today?”
“Jeeves! How dare you speak to me that way! You know I refuse to watch anything that makes me think!”
“Sorry ma’am, but you must see this. I swear you won’t have to think at all.”
Jeeves turned on the TV, and there on channel four was coverage of the an enormous riot. On the bottom of the screen it read, ‘Becca Smith Rally.’
Blood was everywhere and people’s dead bodies were being trampled by other people. “Becca Smith is my savior!” someone yelled on the screen, before impaling themselves.
“Ah yes,” sighed Becca. “Turn that off Jeeves and make me pudding. I want freshly picked strawberries in it too. For every strawberry I find that is not freshly picked, I will give you 30 lashings, and by ‘I’, I mean Foo Foo.”
(Foo Foo was what she called her maid.)
“Yes ma’am, right away. We are in your winter home in the Himalayas at the moment, so it may take me some time, but I will get on it.”
In the spring, love was in the air and Becca was in the mood for archery. She had stationed herself behind a bush in the corner of an expensive restaurant. The day was February 14th and there were many couples in the restaurant for a certain holiday of love. Her boyfriend, a 95 year old senile trillionaire lie next to her in his hospital bed with an IV in his arm. She demanded he be with her on Valentine’s Day.
The bloodshed was beautiful, and the paparazzi shots were dramatic, she thought.
When she got home in March, Jeeves stood in the lobby with Gigi, her ferocious, rabid lion. He held a gun in his hand.
“Why do you want to kill my lion?!” the little girl cried.
“Because I want a fur coat.”
The shot of the gun was deafening.
At the Oscars, Becca was the most beautiful person present. A reporter asked who made her unusual looking dress. She said Foo Foo. She called the dress Jeeves.
“Ruth,” asked Mrs. Hansen, “do you want to tell me about your pet?”
“Okay!” squealed the little girl, looking up from her drawing. “My pet is not like everyone else’s. It’s bigger than a dog, and it can fly.”
“Do you mean it’s a bird?”
“Oh no,” Ruth giggled, “not a bird. Charlie’s not a bird. He’s like you and me. He’s a mammal.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Hansen, shocked at the use of the word mammal in her kindergarten class. “That’s nice,” she smiled.
“Yes, he has warm blood and has fur like a rabbit, but he can talk too!”
“Can he now?”
“Yes. Charlie tells me things sometimes. He tells me about how things are changing. He says that it’s almost time to start moving.”
“Why do we need to move?”
“Because the end is near, silly.”
“Yes, death and all that.” Mrs. Hansen was terrified. “Where did you hear things like this?”
“I told you,” Ruth started, upset that Mrs. Hansen didn’t seem to believe her. “Charlie told me!”
“Did you watch something on TV that you shouldn’t have watched?” Mrs. Hansen asked.
“No. Charlie is from the future! He tells me that there will come a day when all of North America will be flooded and that the moon will collide with the Earth.”
“Ruth, I’m tired of this. I’ll let your parents know about what you’ve been saying.”
“My parents are gone.”
“Charlie said that they weren’t going to help to save me. They weren’t believing me and we had to get rid of them in order for him to save me.”
“Ruth, that is not true, and you know it. I saw you dad drop you off this morning.”
“That wasn’t my dad, that was Charlie. He’s able to hide his fur and wings to look like us. He says that he’s kind of like magic.”
“Magic is not real Ruth, and I will definitely be calling your parents after class to discuss what you’ve been saying.”
The other kids in the class seemed upset, and some had started crying.
“I am not lying!” Ruth flew up from her seat. “Charlie got rid of my parents. They’re dead!”
“Ruth!” “They’re as dead as Frankie the Hamster is!”
“Frankie’s dead?” cried a little boy on the other side of the room.
“No, no, Kyle,” cooed Mrs. Hansen, “Frankie just went on vacation, he’ll be back. He’s fine.”
“No he’s not,” said Ruth, sternly. “He’s dead, and you’ll all be dead too by summer.”
“I have had enough of this!” shouted Mrs. Hansen. She didn’t even realize what she was doing until Ruth was laying on the floor. She had never hit a child before. She couldn’t believe that she had now.
Ruth didn’t cry, she looked up at Mrs. Hansen with an evil grin. “Charlie didn’t like that. He’s coming.”
“Charlie’s not real!” Mrs. Hansen screamed.
At that moment the entire back wall, with the windows looking out towards the parking lot, exploded inward. Glass flew around the room and all the little kids screamed. There was nothing visible that seemed to have caused the damage. When Mrs. Hansen dared to uncover her head to look at the where the explosion had come from, she felt a hand around her neck. In a quick movement, she was lifted off the ground with such force that she felt herself go dizzy. Her head hit the ceiling and she reached up, with no luck, to rub it. Her arm couldn’t get around whatever was holding her up. She was choking and looked down. She seemed to be floating and the children below all seemed to be in a panic. All except Ruth. She seemed happy.
“Charlie!” Ruth screamed up, with a smile.
“My Ruth,” cooed a deep, menacing voice.
The air rippled in front of Mrs. Hansen. She couldn’t decide if she was hallucinating from the lack of air that she was getting into her lungs, or if something was really there in front of her.
Suddenly, in front of her appeared a creature. She looked down at it as it held her up in the air. It appeared similar to a man, but it was wrong. Its appearance changed rapidly. At one moment it looked like a regular man, but with wings, to another second it appeared more like a demon, or a monster. However, even though it was now holding her, close to death, he didn’t seem entirely ferocious.
“What… are… you…?” she chocked out.
“I am Charlifierious. I wasn’t meant to be your end. You were meant to live another two months. You would die in the riots after the moon started to approach the Earth and the waves started to take out the coastal cities. However you hurt my Ruth. That means I can’t let you go unpunished.”
“Are you… a demon?” Mrs. Hansen coughed.
“A demon?” smiled the creature. Its features changed suddenly to those of a man. He looked up at her with bright blue eyes. “How funny you mortals are. You can’t even recognize one who is mightier than you.”
“No, my sorry creature. I’m one of the first. I am counted among the first to ever exist. I am powerful, immortal and all-knowing. I am an angel.”
“An angel…?” “Yes, and you should be honored that my face will be the last you see.”
With that, the creature’s hand moved ever so gently, and Mrs. Hansen went limp in his grasp. He dropped her body to the ground, turning to look at Ruth.
“Ready, my dear Ruth? I guess we’ll be leaving a little earlier than I said we would.”
“Okay Charlie!” giggled the tiny girl, getting into the creatures arms as it flew out of the hole it had created in the classroom wall, leaving the children crying, facing death for the first time.
“I’m sorry!” she screamed, the blood, slowly dripping from her fingers. “I didn’t mean it! I mean it! I wanted to make things harder for you, but I never meant to kill you!”
The man laying in her arms coughed and blood spurted from his mouth. “Bitch!” he gurgled through the blood.
“No!” she panicked, “No! I just wanted to hurt you! The show was supposed to take out your kneecap! That was all!”
“You shot me in the chest,” the man said, with slightly too much clarity for someone in his condition; dying of a bullet through his heart. He looked up at her. “You shot me! You shot killed me!”
“No! It was a mistake! You shouldn’t have bent over when you did!”
“You came into my house, trying to get revenge after I broke up with you, by killing me!” His eyes stared right into her soul.
“I loved you!”
“You murdered me, and then chopped up my body and disposed of it in the ocean!”
The woman sobbed, holding the dying man. She held up her hand to her face, wiping the tears from her eyes, only to replace them with smears of the man’s blood.
“Your soul will forever rot in Hell for what you’ve done!”
“I’m already living in Hell!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, shaking the man’s now lifeless body. “I can’t ever close my eyes without seeing you!”
But the body didn’t reply.
Cold beady eyes looked on at the woman in the darkness of night as she laid in her bed, trying to get a good night’s rest. The eyes showed no compassion for the woman as she flailed in her bed, screaming and trying to escape from the nightmare in which she was trapped.
“You’re an evil spin-stress, Nocturne,” cooed a gentle voice from the darkness.
The black, beady eyes looked away from the woman in her bed to look where the voice had come from. As they did, the woman stopped moving and went to rest, peacefully.
The black beady eyes looked into the darkness in the room, searching for the voice, but could not find a body to claim it as their own. It was as though the voice came from the darkness itself. Nocturne knew that this was quite the possibility. The ways of the world that she inhabited were strange.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
“Why it’s your ever present admirer, my sweet.”
“I don’t know who you are, but I need no intrusion while I do my work.”
“Ah yes,” the voice said, with a hint of amusement, “your work. Bringing poor souls nightmares while they sleep.”
“That is not all I do,” she replied back, anger filling her voice. “I am a spin-stress! I weave the webs of all dreams, not just the nightmares of those you call, ‘poor souls.’”
“Do you now, my dear.” The voice moved around her, while her eyes followed, quickly. “No need to lie to me, dear child, I have been with you for years now, watching as you work. You shy away from those you consider to be free of crimes and thrive on those that you feel have done wrong. You return night after night to those that bring you to most entertainment, like this poor creature here.”
Nocturne turned her eyes back to the sleeping woman. “This woman is a killer. She deserves the dreams that I spin for her.”
“Oh my sweet child,” lulled the voice, “that you believe that you understand the workings of a mortal human, when you yourself could be no further from being like them.”
“Yes,” she replied, “I am superior to them in all ways.”
“Yet you still dwell in the body of a mere spider.”
“It is the way of the spin-stress,” she replied, insulted at the voice’s tone. “My mind and soul are not that of this creature, I purely inhabit the appearance of it.”
“But you still don’t understand humans, do you?”
“Of course I do,” she fought back, “I can see a human’s every thought. I know their thoughts and desires. I understand every human emotion.”
“Yet you don’t feel them yourself. You know anger and hatred. You know nothing of the human emotion known as love. That is why you bring misery to people’s dreams every night rather than being like the other spin-stresses who bring dreams of happiness and hope.” The voice seemed to be spinning around the room. She spun in her web to follow it.
“I can bring those dreams just as easily. I can bring those dreams just as easily as I can dispose of the likes of you.”
“Can you now. Dispose of a being that you cannot even see? Why, I did underestimate you, didn’t I.”
“Show yourself to me,” she said, sternly.
“And why would I ever do that?” the voice seemed to chuckle.
“Because I tell you to.”
“I don’t think I will. But Nocturne, my pet?” the voice pause, seeming to wait for an answer.
“Yes?” asked Nocturne, disgruntled.
“Please try to change your ways.”
“And now it is my turn to ask why I would ever do that.”
“Because if you do not, I am telling you now,” the voice changed in timber and tone. It became dark and malicious. “if you don’t, I will see to it that you be destroyed and your soul, which you state is superior to the innocent humans that you prey upon, will be destroyed.”
For a quick moment, a face appeared in the darkness and Nocturne, after centuries of working as a spin-stress, felt true fear for the first time. Then, it was quiet. She waited to hear the voice again, but it was gone. She called out in to the darkness, but no reply came back to her. If she was ignorant, she would have believed she was alone, but she knew better.
She turned her cold, beady eyes back to rest of the woman in the bed. ‘I’m stronger than fear,’ she thought, as the woman started to once again squirm in her bed, while she felt a chill creep through her very self.
“I don’t even know what it is enough to be afraid that it’ll hear us.”
“Dude, it’s getting closer… don’t you hear it?”
“No, I don’t. This is ridiculous. Do you want to play twenty questions again to while away some time?”
“Shhh! No, I don’t want to play twenty questions. I want to stay quiet and stay alive!”
“Alright, I’ll be the guesser… Is it bigger than a bread box?”
“For the love of God! Be quiet!”
“Dude, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. I’d suggest getting some counseling, but who know’s what would happen to you if you tried to walk yourself from here to the counseling center. I mean, you can’t even find your way out of the gym!”
“Nothing’s wrong with me. I was just thinking, you know, how could everyone just disappear and there be no darkness?”
“I don’t know. Again, this is something that we can’t answer.”
“Well I was thinking, maybe it’s like some sort of creature that’s doing it, right?”
“A creature… A creature that can make the sun not rise, so in essence, can stop the Earth’s rotation. Dude, you’ve been reading way too many comic books. I told you those will rot your brain.”
“Shut it! I’m serious!”
“I am too! You’re suggesting that there’s some entity out there that can stop the sun and moon from rising, causing total darkness, and is coming to eat us. It sounds like a bad issue of Superman. Maybe the bad guy who’s doing this even has a cape! Terrifying!”
“Man, I don’t care what you say. It’s an explanation as to what is going on, and why we’ve been stuck in this darkness for so long.”
“Yeah but you’ve got to understand how crazy you sound.”
“No, you’ve got to understand how… Shhh. You heard it that time, right?”
“No… I didn’t hear it that time…”
“Dude, it’s coming back. It’s closer than it was!”
“It’s silent in here, besides you delirious screaming…”
“I’m not kidding. It’s almost here. How can you not hear it? It sounds like a rattle; like something scratching along one of those ribbed tin cans.”
“Maybe it’s just a tree outside rubbing against the side of the building.”
“No, it’s in the room!”
“Dude, I’m tired of this. I understand that it’s been dark for a very long time with no explanation. I understand that you’re frightened. That’s to be understood, but I can’t take any more of this. This is just ridiculous. You know I care about you, and right now, you’re starting to worry me. I want you to stop. Stop acting like a… Dude, did you just lick my arm?”
“Why the hell did you just lick my arm?”
“I didn’t lick you arm, that’s just weird.”
“Then if you didn’t lick it… Then…”
“AHH! We need to move!”
“Okay, I might believe you that something’s here, grab my hand! I’ll lead!”
“Ow! My eye again!”
“Shut the hell up, we need to get out of here!”
“Okay… let’s go!”
“Okay, let’s stop here.”
“Where are we?”
“Wait a second, did you just ask where are we?”
“I thought you said you could get yourself back to the dorm with your eyes closed.”
“We’re back at the dorm?”
“No. You suck. We’re at Fuller Hall.”
“Oh, isn’t that right next to the Rec Center?”
“You really don’t know this campus at all, do you? Fuller is on the other side of the campus from the Rec Center. It’s two buildings away from the dorm!” “Oh, I knew that. Why didn’t we just go to the dorm?”
“No power, remember? I figured we wouldn’t be able to get in since our card keys wouldn’t be working.” “Ah, smart move!”
“Thanks. Instead we’re in women’s bathroom. I’ve locked the door. We should be safe in here.”
“Nice! The women’s bathroom!”
“Dude, there aren’t any girls here, not that you could’ve seen them if they were anyway.”
“Aw, I guess you’re right… But it still feels like we’re breaking the law being in here though!” “You’re nuts, you know that? I just came here cause the guy’s bathroom’s all the way on the end of the hall on the second floor. This was closer. That’s the only reason.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. It’s still cool, and I could go to the bathroom finall… Ah!”
“Did you just fall into a toilet?”
“I didn’t know where the stalls were…”
“Why does that make a difference?”
“I don’t know, I was reaching out, and tripped over something and fell forward. My entire arm went straight into the toilet. Gross dude!”
“You’re an id… wait, what did you trip over?” “I don’t know.”
“Wait, I’m coming towards your voice. Okay, here’s what you tripped over, I guess. Is it a… a…”
“It’s a body!!!”
“Oh my god!!”
“What do we do? What do we do?”
“I don’t know?! It’s not like we can call the cops!”
“But there’s a dead body on the ground in the bathroom with us!”
“Yeah, I know, but let’s just go to the other side of the bathroom for now, until we can figure things out a little more.”
“Figure out what?”
“Well first off, what was licking my arm before?”
“I told you it was it! Why won’t you believe me?”
“Cause you can’t tell me anything about this, it…”
“Well that’s cause I don’t know anything either! I just have a feeling, you know?”
“Yeah, like I knew that there was something out there to get us. I don’t know what it was, but it must’ve been the thing that got that woman on the other side of the room!”
“I still don’t fully understand the whole it thing. Couldn’t whatever it was that licked me have been just a regular dog and couldn’t that woman have died of a heart attack or something?”
“Hmm, well, whatever licked you could’ve been that dog I saw the other day…”
“You never saw a dog…”
“But what are the chances of a woman just having a heart attack and dying on the floor in a woman’s bathroom?”
“Better than a monster being able to make the Earth go dark! And would it be better if she had died of a heart attack in the men’s room?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“Who’s banging on the door?”
“I don’t know, but whoever it is, they sound angry…”
“Well-done?” shouted Luke, “Who the hell gets their steak cooked well-done?”
“I don’t know,” Tim barked back, “people who don’t want to get some sort of disease from eating raw meat?”
“Disease?!” Luke slammed his hands down on the table. “The thing’s being cooked at scalding hot temperatures, I doubt just cause there’s a little pink inside that there’s a ton of diseases in there! They’d have to’ve died off!”
“Oh, that’s real comforting Luke,” Tim said, shaking his head. “Just cause it’s hot… You know, some bacteria can survive at very high temperatures! They’re not like you and me!”
“Shut up man,” Luke waved Tim off, “You have no right getting a steak if you’re going to order it like that.” He quickly looked at the waiter, who was standing like a deer in the headlights, “Dude,” he grabbed the guy’s wrist, a little too tight. “how do you order your steak?”
The poor waiter, a kid probably no older than 17, swallowed hard; terrified to get in the middle of this. Sweat dripped down his brow and he reached up with the napkin he always kept in his waiter’s apron to wipe it off. “Um, I really don’t know,” he choked.
“Oh come on,” Luke reached up and grabbed the plastic name tag (with all different stickers stuck to it) that was pinned to the waiter’s shirt, “Mike,” he laughed, “tell my friend here how you order your steak done. I’m interested.”
“I really don’t…” the kid tried.
“Oh leave the kid alone, asshole. He’s just trying to do his job and you’re making things hard for him,” yelled Tim.
“No, no,” Luke stated, with authority, putting his hand out in front of him, “let the boy talk.” He turned to look back at the waiter. “So Mike?”
“Um,” the waiter began, looking pale, “I’m actually a vegetarian.”
“HA!” laughed Tim loudly, smacking the table so hard that Luke’s glass of water fell over, pouring onto his lap.
“Oh, good going!” shouted Luke. “Now look what you’ve done!”
“Oh, let me go get some…” the waiter stammered, trying to find an excuse to leave the table.
“No, no Mike,” laughed Tim. “We’re fine. Lukedoesn’t mind. He’ll be okay.”
“You know, I drove you here,” Luke threatened, pointing at Tim.
“So Mike,” smiled Tim, “you’re a vegetarian. Very interesting,” he said, turning his head towards Luke, with a grin.
“Mmmhmm,” swallowed the waiter.
“See Luke,” started Tim, face turning red, “other people find a problem with eating meat too! Some people see that it’s healthier to avoid meat as it’s not smart to eat other mammals! Isn’t that right Mike?! We all don’t need to be blood-thirsty carnivores, do we?!”
“Well I just don’t like the idea of killing animals,” whimpered the waiter.
“See!” exclaimed Luke. “You’re deranged! At least this little punk-ass is doing it for some tree-hugger bull s**t reason! You’re a hypochondriac who is terrified that you’re going to get ill from eating a f**king medium rare steak!”
“F**k Luke,” shouted Tim, lifting off of his seat a little, leaning across the table, “it’s widely believed that beef leads to Alzheimer’s disease!”
“That’s just made up bull!” Luke sat back in his seat, crossing his arms.
“Yeah?” shouted Tim, “Well I’m sorry if I don’t want to forget everything as I get older!”
“You’re only 27 dude! What do you have to worry about! Stop eating beef when you’re sixty or seventy then!”
“By then it’ll be too late!”
“Too late… You’re nuts,” scoffed Luke.
“You can never be too sure,” said Tim, calming down a bit. “What about what happened with that whole mad cow thing? I mean, if you need me eating beef that badly, I feel that if I at least eat it well-done, maybe everything will really be killed. I don’t know,” he pouted slightly, falling back into his seat.
“What do you mean that I need you to eat beef?” asked Luke, concern showing on his face.
“You know what I mean,” Tim grumbled, flexing his arm and feeling the muscle as to avoid eye contact with Luke. “You’re into hunting and eating your kills and all that. I mean, if you could have meat as the only part of every meal, you’d probably be fine with that.”
“So how do I fit into that?”
“What do you mean?” Luke laid his arms on the table.
“I don’t like the idea of hunting, and before I met you I was a vegetarian, and,” he dropped his head, “I don’t know.” “You think I wouldn’t love you if you didn’t eat meat?” asked Luke, reaching out to touch Tim’s arm.
“Well, I mean, look at this fight we just had, in the middle of a crowded restaurant, the looks we’re getting, just because I wanted to order my steak well-done.”
“Tim,” said Luke, in an uncharacteristically soft voice, “you don’t need to try to be like me. If I wanted to be with another meat-crazed hunter, why would I have ever have started dating you?”
“I don’t know,” Tim scowled, peeking up slightly at Luke, “‘Cause you don’t like being single?”
“You’re an ass, you know that?” laughed Luke, punching Tim hard in the arm. “You really are.” He got out from his side of the table and went around to Tim’s side and slid into the booth next to him, putting his arm around Tim’s shoulders. “I love you for you, jackass,” he said, as he kissed his cheek.
“Okay,” Luke announced, looking at the waiter, who still seemed very terrified of the large man named Luke, who had turned his eyes back upon him. “Mike, was it?” he asked, not waiting for an answer, “I’ll take the steak, medium rare, give me as much bloody juice as you legally can give me, and he’ll take the Santa Fe Salad, without the chicken.” He looked back at Tim. “I know it’s your favorite,” he said, standing up, punching him in the shoulder, while going back to his side of the booth, “but don’t be getting all mushy with me now. You know I hate that s**t!”
The infection seemed to be centrally located. It hadn’t left the island of Manhattan.
Davey was leaving the Museum of Natural History with his friends Griffin and Larry. They had come into the city to have some fun, as well as to go to the museum to see the Egyptian artifacts for a class. Now that they were done with the museum, they were ready to start their fun; unbound by what their teacher had requested them to do. Davey loved the Museum of Natural History, but being required to go there really made him not want to be there.
He shoved his notebook into his backpack and stepped through the front door, feeling the sun on his face. “Ahh!” he exclaimed, squinting his eyes and lowering his sunglasses down over his eyes. “You just gotta love days like this, you know?” he smiled, turning around to look at Griffin and Larry.
Larry put his baseball cap back on his head and Griffin grumbled, covering his eyes mumbling, “I just had to forget my glasses today…”
“Alright,” started Larry, “we’ve got a pretty full day. We’ve got tickets to go see a show, but that’s not till 2, so we’ve still got two hours, and then we were thinking of hitting up some clubs tonight and Davey,” he said, turning to him, “you said wanted to do what?” “I wanted to drop by Bryant Park.”
“Really?” grumbled Griffin. “Why?” “Cause it’s so pretty out today, and Bryant’s one of my favorite places in the city.”
“We could just go to Central Park instead, you know, since we’re here,” Griffin whined.
“And if we go to Central Park,” began Larry, “we could go to the zoo,” he nudged Davey’s shoulder. “I’ve never been.”
“Uhhh,” moaned Davey, “fine. We can just do Central Park for two hours.”
“If I get pooped on by any pigeons in that f**king park, I’m done,” said Griffin.
“You know Davey,” complained Larry, “if you had just let us take a cab or the subway, we wouldn't have to be running with only five minutes till our show starts.”
“Yeah, but it’s so nice out, why would you want to take a cab or be underground on a day like today?” grinned Davey, slightly panting.
“Well, let’s see,” started Griffin, angrily, “we wouldn’t have to be running like we are right now, and I wouldn’t have this bird s**t on my shoulder!” he screamed pointing at his shirt.
“Oh come on guys,” laughed Davey, “the theater’s right there. We’re fine. And when does a broadway shoe ever start exactly on time?”
“Pretty often actually Davey…” moaned Larry while jumping up onto the sidewalk in front of the theater and throwing open the doors, while reaching for his ticket in his pocket.
Griffin, Larry and Davey left the theater in good spirits.
“That was damn good!” announced Griffin, with an uncharacteristic smile on his face.
“I knew it would be,” laughed Davey. “When are you guys going to start believing me?”
“When you stop mixing good ideas, like this show, with bad ones, like walking twenty blocks to get here,” said Larry, with a large amount of sarcasm.
“Shut it,” scoffed Davey, punching him.
Griffin suddenly stopped. “Hey guys.”
“Yeah?” asked Larry.
“Does something seem wrong?”
They were standing on the corner of 44th and Broadway, in front of the Toys R Us.
“What do you mean?” asked Davey.
“Look at all the people in Times Square.”
“Dude, it’s Times Square. When have you ever seen it without this many people?” asked Larry, laughing.
“No, no!” shouted Griffin. “Something’s wrong! Look at them!”
Davey and Larry stopped and really looked at the people in front of them. They weren’t just standing or walking around, there were a lot of people on the ground; and they didn’t look too good. Some were beaten up pretty bad.
“What the hell?!” exclaimed Davey.
Griffin ran to one guy who was sitting up, but still looked in bad shape. “What happened to you?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” coughed the man. “I had just gotten home from work back in Jersey, and then some guys were at my door, pulling me away, and the next thing I know, I’m like this, laying on Broadway.”
Griffin stood up and turned to Davey and Larry, who had walked over to him. “I don’t like this, not at all,” said Griffin, with a sense of panic in his voice.
“We need to get out of the city,” decided Larry, a look of determination on his face.
“We’ve tried everything,” sighed Davey, bending over and putting his arms on his knees, catching his breath.
“I can’t believe that the tunnels and bridges are all closed! How is that even possible?” panicked Larry, looking as though he was trying to think of yet another way off the island. “Do you want to try getting a boat? The ferry to Long Island maybe?”
“Larry, I don’t think that all of a sudden you’re going to be able to grab a boat outta here. If the tunnels and bridges are closed, I think it means that we’ll just have to wait,” sighed Griffin, almost resigned to whatever was going to happen. The panic had left him, and now he was uncomfortably calm.
“No!” shouted Larry, “We need to get out of here!”
Griffin coughed loudly, bending forward. Larry and Davey turned to look at him. “Hey dude,” Davey walked over to him, “you alright?”
Griffin coughed harder and harder, unstopping. Davey was wary to touch him. He held his hand out toward him, but didn’t put it on his back. When Griffin stopped coughing, it had felt like hours, just standing, watching him. He slowly started to stand upright.
“Griff!” exclaimed Larry, “Your eyes!”
Griffin reached up and touched his eyes. He brought his hand out in front of himself and started to whimper at the sight of the blood.
Davey had backed up, terrified.
“What was that noise?” asked Larry, ungluing his eyes from Griffin to look uptown.
“It’s getting louder,” commented Davey,
“The ground is shaking,” cried Griffin, dropping down to the ground, looking down, as though he understood.
I’m terrified. My name is Six, and right now I’m hiding in some park somewhere. I don’t know where I am. I’ve been running for about an hour, according to my watch.
I still can’t believe that this is happening.
We were all so close. How could this be happening. I mean Seven is one of my best friends! He would never do this. He couldn’t have. Could he?
What am I talking about, I saw it with my own eyes. It was horrifying and I just don’t want to be next. That’s why I’m running. If he could do that to Nine, then why would I be any safer? I mean they were dating for fraction’s sake!
I tried calling Four, but she didn’t pick up the phone. She would be the person most likely to help me. She’s always there for me. Why wouldn’t she answer the phone? Did he get to her?
No, no , no! No possible way. Seven wouldn’t go after Four. Unless… Unless he really is after me, and when he couldn’t find me he went for my loved ones! That’s usually how it goes. I’ve seen those cop dramas on TV.
Would he really go after Four? She’s just so nice and wonderful, he couldn’t hurt her. Well, thinking about it, peoples would have called him wonderful too, but I guess they wouldn’t any longer if I told them what I saw.
There was so much blood!
I had never heard screams like those. It had been so quiet. I was walking to go see Seven and Nine. I was outside of Seven’s apartment when I heard the screaming. It was high pitched and painful. It made me want to cry.
I yanked open the door to Seven’s apartment, and, oh Pi, I can’t talk about it! It was horrible! I mean, his face was coated in a thick layer of what could only have been blood, and Nine was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, eyes staring widely. And the bite from her side… it was terrible.
After Seven noticed me there, he turned his head way too quickly to look at me. His eyes were wild. He looked like he was a savage dog, much less my friend of eight years! He was all crouched over with his bloody hands by his face. His eyes didn’t leave mine as we stood there.
Finally I moved, and he launched himself, like a wolf, in my direction. I ran as fast as I could and could hear his heavy breathing behind me. Seven’s in good shape, so this wasn’t heavy breathing showing he was tired, but sounded like that of an animal on the hunt.
I don’t know where everyone was, but I ran clear across campus without seeing a single person and then clear across town, and still, no one. It’s 5 PM now, so there should be people around leaving work, but I don’t know, maybe it’s a holiday I forgot about.
I finally gave him the slip when I made a quick right turn onto Front Street and then a quick left onto Keese Avenue and hid behind a dumpster. He was still right behind me and came out onto Keese, still breathing heavily. I could hear his breathing close to the dumpster and felt my heart in my throat. I didn’t know what I would have done if he had come around the corner of that dumpster. I’m still trying to decide if I could have fought my best friend, and in the state he was in, if I stood a chance. Luckily, or sadly, however you want to look at it, someone must’ve kicked a can down the street, and I guess, thinking it was me, Seven let out a wail that almost resembled a howl and ran off in the other direction.
I waited about three minutes until I hear a man’s scream coming from where Seven had run before starting to run again. I lost all bearings of where I was going and was just running. I took turns at corners quickly and passed by houses. I saw people on the streets now, but didn’t bother stopping to ask for help. I wanted to get as much distance between Seven and me as I could before I asked anyone for help.
Now here I am, in this park that I’ve never seen before. Hiding for my life inside of a children’s play area shaped like a giant ship.
It’s all over now…
I pulled out my cell phone. Funny how you forget that you have one some times. I had to call the cops. They could help. Pi I just hoped that Four was alright.
I tried to explain what was happening to the person who answered when I called 911, but it all seemed like a joke. “Hi, I found my friend eating his girlfriend in his apartment and now he’s chasing me while howling!” Who would ever believe that. Luckily they still came.
So did Seven.
I guess he heard the sirens and assumed they were going to me. He followed them. Like the dog he had become, he chased after the cars until they reached my location.
As the cops got to the park and I felt I was safe, suddenly I saw Seven emerge from behind the cars; blood-soaked and clothing and skin torn. He looked more beast than man.
The cops stood no chance against him. He launched at them from behind and tore at their necks and back with his nails and teeth. It was like something out of a movie. He knew just where to go. I regretted the day I convinced him to go into medical school. He tore open the major arteries with his teeth and seemed livid at the sight of all the blood.
The cops, once they noticed what was happening, tried to shoot, but they couldn’t catch him. It was getting dark and he was moving quickly and dodging behind trees and coming out from behind them.
The gun fell in front of my feet.
One of the cops had it thrown from his hand when Seven jumped onto him. I grabbed it off the ground, not knowing what I was doing. I held it up with both hands, feeling like an idiot. I couldn’t shoot my best friend.
He stood there in front of me. He had taken out six police officers. He stood there in front of me. Coated in the police officers’ blood, grinning. He came running at me, teeth bared and hands out in front of him like the claws of something fierce.
I will never forget the sound of that gunshot.
Four’s alright. She had been at her mom’s house and had left her phone back at our apartment.