Post by caonedh on Mar 12, 2013 23:54:39 GMT -8
Warning; the following contains adult language. So if it bugs you, don't read! I use profanity as it should be used...for effect! (seriously, though, if folks have a problem with it, I'll edit and censor)
The man hopped out of the van with a great yawn that steamed in the February air, and slid the door shut behind him. In the predawn quiet, it made a huge crash, but it was an old van, and you had to shut the door with some force to get it to shut at all. A goofy logo was painted on the side of the van; the same as was printed on the t-shirts of the people in the front seats. They waved at him, and then tried to take a U-turn in the still crowded parking lot of the apartment complex. Eventually, they got it around, and with another wave drove off. Chuckling to himself, the man turned and climbed the stairs. He was fumbling with his keys when the door opened.
“I thought I heard you out here,” she said, stepping forward to give him a kiss. “So, how was the investigation?”
“Damned good, actually,” he replied, shedding his heavy coat and hanging it up (usually he would just throw it in the chair, but had been married long enough to know better than to do that with his wife watching). “That hotel is a gold mine. There were flashes of light out of nowhere, disembodied voices…and I know I got an MVP talking straight to me.”
“Creepy,” she said, stopping him from closing the door to the coat closet so that she could grab her own. “What did he say?”
“Well, let’s just say it would have to be censored on television.” What it had said involved cutting off a part of his anatomy that he was rather fond of, and sticking it in a place it didn’t belong.
“Oh, good, a friendly ghost. You didn’t invite it back home, did you?”
The man laughed. “No, love. Had a priest bless me just to make sure nothing followed me.” In private, he didn’t believe that the blessing did anything; he wasn’t quite an Atheist, but was certain he didn’t believe in the Christian God. But there are things you don’t say to a Lutheran red-head, especially when you slept next to her most nights. And, since he may be wrong, the blessing couldn’t hurt. Especially if a ghost who wanted to put things in inappropriate places DID attach to him. “I will say this, though; I should have started this in my twenties, not my thirties. I’m tired as hell.”
His wife laughed. “Ah, the things we should have done when we were younger. Are you going to go to bed, now? “
“Yeah.”
“Good. Well, I’m off to work then. Love you, Ken.”
“Love you, too, hon. Tell the nuns I said ‘whatsup.’”
“I will. Anything I should tell the doctors?”
“Nah. Just flash that wedding ring so they don’t try to sweep the pretty nurse off their feet. Bastards.”
His wife laughed; his hatred of doctors was legendary. “Get some sleep. Take a shower first, though. Hopefully you’ll be able to find some places you can put in applications today.” She blew him a kiss and then closed the door. He locked it behind her, and then took her advice. When he crawled into bed, the sun was coming up. Thankfully, they had blackout curtains up; when your wife is a nurse, you have to be prepared for night shifts. He was out in a matter of seconds.
* * * * * *
He was alone, standing in a maelstrom of color. Once in a while, he would make shapes out through the chaos, but if he tried to focus on them, they would break away. Frightened, he called out, and voices answered him, like whispers on an endless wind. “You’re nothing….””You’re worthless….””It’d be best for everyone if you killed yourself….” On and on these voices babbled, and he wished he hadn’t called out to them. The chaos was digging into his mind; he couldn’t hold a thought without it slipping away like water over crystals of quartz. The voices became louder…and louder…
“Give up…”
“Give in, your life isn’t worth your suffering..”
“No one will hire you because they see in you what we see in you…”
“I’M GONNA CUT OFF YOUR COCK AND STICK IT IN YOUR ASS!”
Ken woke with a start, breathing rapidly. He had had that dream before, but the last bit was new. Of course, that EVP had been extremely frightening to him, but it had been so loud, as if it would rupture his eardrums. Panting, he checked the clock. 12:42 pm; he had been asleep just over six hours. He shrugged to himself; that’d have to do. No way he was going back to sleep now. He sat up in the bed and rubbed his eyes. Even though it was after noon, the blackout curtains kept it very dark. He got up and started walking towards the walk-in closet, meaning to grab a shirt, but stopped and rubbed his eyes again. There was a….shape. A dark shape in the closet. Moving, undulating. Suddenly, he felt a wave of dread come for him, and he started backing away from the closet towards the light switch. Before he could get there, though, the form rushed him. The darkness hit him full on, passing through him with enough force to knock him into the air and against the wall. He fell with a thud; the noise caused the dog downstairs to start yelping. Panicked, he got up and crawled back to his side of the bed. There, he kept a sharpened kitana; neither he nor his wife liked guns, but he personally liked to know that there was some sort of weapon in reach if there was an intruder. He grabbed it from under the bed and drew it from its sheath.
The darkness returned, oozing through the door. This time, it had more substance and shape. It was a palid face, long and with dark spots where the eyes should be. At the sight of his sword, the thing smiled and seemed to reach into himself. When his hand re-appeared, it was holding a scythe. It never opened its mouth, but Ken heard it all the same.
“I TOLD YOU I’D CUT YOU, LITTLE MAN.”
With that, it rushed forward and brought the scythe down in a sweeping motion. Ken barely ducked in time, but the scythe caught the sword and nearly tore it from his grasp. He held on, but the force of the blow knocked him back to the floor. He tried to turn and face his attacker, but as he did, the scythe came down, going through his chest. He cried out with agony, and the thing’s face moved forward until it was only inches from his own.
“YES. I SHALL DRINK IN YOUR SUFFERING.”
It was hard to breath. He tasted copper in his mouth. He could see the things eyes, and behind the eyes….a pulsing. Like darkness come to life. For some reason, seeing that made all of his fears vanish. With the last of his strength, he brought his sword up and stabbed right into the heart of that darkness.
The thing cave a violent shriek as the steel of the sword exploded, the shards of the blade covered in hoarfrost. The dog downstairs yipped in terror once, and then was silent. The thing seemed to hover there for a second, and then, seemed to collapse in on itself. In a split second, it was gone.
His eyesight was dimming. He tried to crawl to his nightstand to grab his cell, call 911. But the slight movement made his entire body spasm in pain. He felt blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. As his vision faded, he could have swore he saw a bumblebee flying towards him. That made him laugh; he was terribly allergic to beestings. And why was there a bee in his house in the middle of February? His vision faded, and in the darkness, he could hear the voices from his dream.
“Fuck you, evil voices,” he told him in his thoughts. “Suicide, hell. I went down fighting.” Then there was nothing.
The man hopped out of the van with a great yawn that steamed in the February air, and slid the door shut behind him. In the predawn quiet, it made a huge crash, but it was an old van, and you had to shut the door with some force to get it to shut at all. A goofy logo was painted on the side of the van; the same as was printed on the t-shirts of the people in the front seats. They waved at him, and then tried to take a U-turn in the still crowded parking lot of the apartment complex. Eventually, they got it around, and with another wave drove off. Chuckling to himself, the man turned and climbed the stairs. He was fumbling with his keys when the door opened.
“I thought I heard you out here,” she said, stepping forward to give him a kiss. “So, how was the investigation?”
“Damned good, actually,” he replied, shedding his heavy coat and hanging it up (usually he would just throw it in the chair, but had been married long enough to know better than to do that with his wife watching). “That hotel is a gold mine. There were flashes of light out of nowhere, disembodied voices…and I know I got an MVP talking straight to me.”
“Creepy,” she said, stopping him from closing the door to the coat closet so that she could grab her own. “What did he say?”
“Well, let’s just say it would have to be censored on television.” What it had said involved cutting off a part of his anatomy that he was rather fond of, and sticking it in a place it didn’t belong.
“Oh, good, a friendly ghost. You didn’t invite it back home, did you?”
The man laughed. “No, love. Had a priest bless me just to make sure nothing followed me.” In private, he didn’t believe that the blessing did anything; he wasn’t quite an Atheist, but was certain he didn’t believe in the Christian God. But there are things you don’t say to a Lutheran red-head, especially when you slept next to her most nights. And, since he may be wrong, the blessing couldn’t hurt. Especially if a ghost who wanted to put things in inappropriate places DID attach to him. “I will say this, though; I should have started this in my twenties, not my thirties. I’m tired as hell.”
His wife laughed. “Ah, the things we should have done when we were younger. Are you going to go to bed, now? “
“Yeah.”
“Good. Well, I’m off to work then. Love you, Ken.”
“Love you, too, hon. Tell the nuns I said ‘whatsup.’”
“I will. Anything I should tell the doctors?”
“Nah. Just flash that wedding ring so they don’t try to sweep the pretty nurse off their feet. Bastards.”
His wife laughed; his hatred of doctors was legendary. “Get some sleep. Take a shower first, though. Hopefully you’ll be able to find some places you can put in applications today.” She blew him a kiss and then closed the door. He locked it behind her, and then took her advice. When he crawled into bed, the sun was coming up. Thankfully, they had blackout curtains up; when your wife is a nurse, you have to be prepared for night shifts. He was out in a matter of seconds.
* * * * * *
He was alone, standing in a maelstrom of color. Once in a while, he would make shapes out through the chaos, but if he tried to focus on them, they would break away. Frightened, he called out, and voices answered him, like whispers on an endless wind. “You’re nothing….””You’re worthless….””It’d be best for everyone if you killed yourself….” On and on these voices babbled, and he wished he hadn’t called out to them. The chaos was digging into his mind; he couldn’t hold a thought without it slipping away like water over crystals of quartz. The voices became louder…and louder…
“Give up…”
“Give in, your life isn’t worth your suffering..”
“No one will hire you because they see in you what we see in you…”
“I’M GONNA CUT OFF YOUR COCK AND STICK IT IN YOUR ASS!”
Ken woke with a start, breathing rapidly. He had had that dream before, but the last bit was new. Of course, that EVP had been extremely frightening to him, but it had been so loud, as if it would rupture his eardrums. Panting, he checked the clock. 12:42 pm; he had been asleep just over six hours. He shrugged to himself; that’d have to do. No way he was going back to sleep now. He sat up in the bed and rubbed his eyes. Even though it was after noon, the blackout curtains kept it very dark. He got up and started walking towards the walk-in closet, meaning to grab a shirt, but stopped and rubbed his eyes again. There was a….shape. A dark shape in the closet. Moving, undulating. Suddenly, he felt a wave of dread come for him, and he started backing away from the closet towards the light switch. Before he could get there, though, the form rushed him. The darkness hit him full on, passing through him with enough force to knock him into the air and against the wall. He fell with a thud; the noise caused the dog downstairs to start yelping. Panicked, he got up and crawled back to his side of the bed. There, he kept a sharpened kitana; neither he nor his wife liked guns, but he personally liked to know that there was some sort of weapon in reach if there was an intruder. He grabbed it from under the bed and drew it from its sheath.
The darkness returned, oozing through the door. This time, it had more substance and shape. It was a palid face, long and with dark spots where the eyes should be. At the sight of his sword, the thing smiled and seemed to reach into himself. When his hand re-appeared, it was holding a scythe. It never opened its mouth, but Ken heard it all the same.
“I TOLD YOU I’D CUT YOU, LITTLE MAN.”
With that, it rushed forward and brought the scythe down in a sweeping motion. Ken barely ducked in time, but the scythe caught the sword and nearly tore it from his grasp. He held on, but the force of the blow knocked him back to the floor. He tried to turn and face his attacker, but as he did, the scythe came down, going through his chest. He cried out with agony, and the thing’s face moved forward until it was only inches from his own.
“YES. I SHALL DRINK IN YOUR SUFFERING.”
It was hard to breath. He tasted copper in his mouth. He could see the things eyes, and behind the eyes….a pulsing. Like darkness come to life. For some reason, seeing that made all of his fears vanish. With the last of his strength, he brought his sword up and stabbed right into the heart of that darkness.
The thing cave a violent shriek as the steel of the sword exploded, the shards of the blade covered in hoarfrost. The dog downstairs yipped in terror once, and then was silent. The thing seemed to hover there for a second, and then, seemed to collapse in on itself. In a split second, it was gone.
His eyesight was dimming. He tried to crawl to his nightstand to grab his cell, call 911. But the slight movement made his entire body spasm in pain. He felt blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. As his vision faded, he could have swore he saw a bumblebee flying towards him. That made him laugh; he was terribly allergic to beestings. And why was there a bee in his house in the middle of February? His vision faded, and in the darkness, he could hear the voices from his dream.
“Fuck you, evil voices,” he told him in his thoughts. “Suicide, hell. I went down fighting.” Then there was nothing.