Staying Alive VI

The stench of rotted flesh and sweat strong enough to be used as elephant tranquilizer wake me. The eye opening knockout gas.

It’s nearly pitch black less for the horizontal slit of orange flickering light across from me. Shadows walk through the flickering light and faint voices whisper about. Laughter from children and women off in the distance. My eyes adjust to the room I’m in. I get up. My feet slap bare on the cold floor and I head for the source of the light to be met by a door. My ear against it I hear the the other side with more clarity.

“That’s check mate, mate. Guess that means I’m the better man after all!”

“That was luck. I got distracted. Best two out of three.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, mate. Take your loss like a champ and give the next person a chance to lose to the master.”

They sound like normal people.

I feel around for the doorknob and twist. Through to the other side it opens to the hallway of an abandoned hospital. Candle lit far down the sight line until it’s swallowed again by the black void somewhere off in the distance. More people packed into this one hall than I’ve seen in months. The place turned its attention to me and sank into complete silence.

“Guess he’s not dead,” one of the men at the chess table says.

A woman walks over with a tray of food. Cooked canned…

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Turn Tables

Having tracked and cornered Arthur, the detective has the tables turned on him.

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Static charged, the manic man at large wrecks havoc as he travels far
Terror through fear, like the fuhrer from years ago, then goes steers clear and disappears
Near the sand he stands, hands in the sky, he’s mad, the detective failed his plan
Didn’t matter how hard he tried, the crazed guy got the jump, now the good’ll die
Cries and pleads for life, but the look in those evil eyes say, “nice try”
The gun fires, it’s dark like he’s tired, visions of his dead father he admires
Volume down, all goes quiet, total absence of a riot
Memories fade, euphoria fills the brain, insane malice won the day
  

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The Investigation, Part 1

After Arthur managed to escape the asylum and ravaged a small family the state designated his recapture a priority and an investigation into his psychology was initiated.

The detective roams the house in search of clues.

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The rooms smells of burnt carpet and charred coal. You’d think the scent would have faded by now. If not for the dust and dry air it’d be easy to confuse as fresh.

Candy wrappers, crinkled up papers and broken glass crackle beneath my boots as I move through the abandoned house.

Shattered picture frames and porcelain dolls rest on the coffee table center of the living room. Yellow tape still play the roll of bedroom doors. No one’s stepped foot in the house since the tragedy occurred.

His bedroom is the only part of this godforsaken place that isn’t a complete disaster. It’s untouched. As if he’d not once been inside. As if every waking minute was of each day were wasted compulsively cleaning and organizing personal belongings.

Minus the excessive neatness, nothing seems off.

The report said the family was quiet. Private. Then the incident happened.

What could drive a man to so brutally…

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In Bed With Arthur

Arthur, after having liberated the evil from the corrupt family, was once again caught by the corrupt police and returned to his prison. The cage where they accuse him of insanity. He knows the bad guys don’t win. And he’s the hero of the story, so he will not lose.

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Eyes open, I’m in bed
Six years, been like I’m dead
Tech sticking from my head
Strapped, chain down
Dark room, no sound
Mind rush, go round
Fear, possessed now
No exit near while held down
Tears, the scream bounce around
Leering gaze from the shadows of the room
A crooked grin, hazy, sharp teeth, it’s hungry too
An abomination, with no hesitation it…

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The Calm Before The Fall

Don’t know how long it’s been. Feels like months. Perhaps years.

I’ve… not starved. What does it mean? Am I even alive?

At the beginning the pain of starvation felt as though it would never end. Lost consciousness many times but always woke up. And then all sensation receded allowing me to enjoy the prison.

This ever stretching electric funhouse, is it hell? Was I a monster in my previous life? Was there a previous life? This might be the universe. A wall of concrete on one end and a wall of copies of me on the other.

They’ve never talked. The only ones out of their tanks are dead. The hall never ends. Either wall never ends.

And I can’t die. For weeks I attempted to cause trauma to my head. The blunt force of the concrete wall was excruciating at first, but that too faded until no sensation remained.

Now I just walk. I don’t know how long it’s been, but I walk. A Straight line down the hall of infinity. I step around the bodies of the dead copies.

I’m the only copy alive as far as I know.


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Family of Four

Half way to the bronze doorknob, letter in hand, Hue freezes up paranoid.

“But… What if…?” he doesn’t finish.

Clarisse just happens to open the door a second shy of Hue talking himself out of this.

His eyes are locked on hers. He’s sweating cannon balls. Hue’s horrified, mortified standing there reaching out with a letter he almost managed to never delivering.

Eyes wide. He looks like an idiot and he knows it, but he can’t fix his face or his body and remains frozen in place.

Finally she speaks. “Is… Is that for me?” she asks.

He doesn’t speak, instead, Hue reaches out further with the letter and Clarisse snatches it. The envelope stood no chance against her insatiable need-to-know.

“EEEK!” Clarisse claps and screams. Tightly wrapping her arms around Hue she whispers, “Yes… I’ll marry you!”

And Hue feels his veins become raceways for a relaxing adrenaline rush-hour of endorphins.

Flash forward ten years and they’re still together.  Got a boy of six and a girl of five and moved up North.

That’s the greatest tragedy that’s ever occurred in this little town.

Who thinks something like this would happen in such a quiet safe place?

Guy marries his sister and kidnaps two children before disappearing up North, never to be seen again. That’s pretty fucked up.

They stopped looking on the second day but the promos ran for months.

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And Then It Was Quiet

And Then It Was Quiet

...tears in her eyes tells me it must be beautiful
She only cries when bad things happen to the good people
During romances and horrors
But of course during dramas
When face to face with great art
When a good song is on

Bright cloud yells bang
They won’t let us run
It’s no fun watching the sun be outshined
There is no one left inside
Empty houses
Yellow...

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When A Bleak God Calls

Even the fire is metallic in this unstimulating hell. Cooked rotten meat licked and scorched by the sunrise flame.

The air tastes of burnt plastic and copper from the wires I crossed to start the fire. I’ve been too lost to admire the lovely structure inspired by scientific miracle and horrid nightmares.

I’ve begun to question the purpose of the wall. It stands tall harassing me up into forever. It must be god. The wall is god and I am no more than its subject. Absurd, but it’s the best guess I have for where I am. Either I’m at the end or at the beginning of the world.

The meat still tastes rotten. I’d nearly forgotten when I got lost staring at the wall, but there’s the thought again and with it came the taste. It doesn’t go away. And If I was okay with dying today, which I wish was the case, I’d go away. But I’m scared and fascinated. It’s not fair that I can’t help but procrastinate on my death just to see what fate awaits.

Two days or three weeks have gone by and this road is bleak and I don’t checkout of the ride.

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Salt

 

...against the restraining forces of gravity cripple. Inhaled gulps of salt are coughed and sneezed at once with half full lungs caught somewhere between an inhale and exhale, cup half empty.

The wobbly discombobulated mirage of the sun sort of shines through, but not really. More like its idea mirages by or superimposes itself over the...

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The Darkest of Them All

A straight stride has proven fruitless and aimless as time makes no difference. Walking for an infinity no longer than a week, starvation begins to sink in. Madness has long since stricken, although the stride has not been affected.

Broken dissolved vocal cords rasp with every breath. Destroyed by the screams held for days with hopes that someone would hear my pleas for mercy, with no avail. A torn bloodied forehead shows white bone bits cracked by my skulls repeated impact against concrete. Fingernails broken off by all the attempts to hatch another.

Debating whether to lay for rest and die as a means of escape from this merciless prison I see a shadow ahead. A dark figure piled into the corner where the wall and…

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Miriam

...catastrophic pileup on the highway by a middle school in the middle of an afternoon. “Fucking asshole! Ugh!” She walks off in the opposite direction and shuts the front door that was apparently open the entire span of the argument.

The kids are already upstairs avoiding dad’s angry yelling. Hiding in the best most quiet hiding spot.

Moments later Miriam is back in the kitchen eating the wine bottle through a frustration induced tomato face. Vibrant deep red wine drains into the glass and then out, over and over in rapid succession. Throwing the empty bottle in the...

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Arthur

...he spots a small town up ahead. The incoming road welcomes newcomers with a large green sign reads Welcome to Pleasant Valley.

Customers come into view going in and out of a small bodega near the sign. Upon closer inspection Arthur finds it’s a plaza at the entrance of town. A small shopping center for the kind folk of Pleasant Valley and any kind visitors who might come through.

A small family of four catch his attention. He remembers having a mom and dad, and he’s always wanted a brother and sister, so he figures he’ll introduce himself. Arthur knows they’ll love him because he’s extremely caring and very sensitive. Those are good characteristics...

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Zoom Out

...grip is tight, firm, nothing will loosen it. If he gives in he’ll go off edge.

The deafening ring in his ears lingers infinite stretches of time before they gradually fade revealing drowned out scream, cries and pleas.

Whimpering resume, he sniffles globs of mucus to the back of his throat before swallowing and whimpers more.

“I-it was y-y-you wasn’t..

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Whispers

...deep distorted voice says “It’ll leave if I do this!” While moving your jaw open and shut. Alone on your side it’s as though you first thought it and then said it. As if the demon only exists across the mirror. And everything on this end is voluntary. Thought out. Intentional. Choice.

“It’s in my head!” you say. “He only wants me to think it’s his doing!”

The demon lip syncs each word, hand moving your puppet jaw.

You think to pierce skin with the blade of the razor and the demon reaches back down to your arm and begins to press it into the skin. Vibrant burgundy blood gathers around the cut. Then wraps around the wrist and drips to...

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Staying Alive III

 

...looks familiar when he gets out of the dumpster. He’d already been roaming unfamiliar streets when he found the building and jumped out the window avoiding ghouls.

“So, I’m lost…” he says, back on the street unable to tell which direction he came from. “Nothing new there.”

Luckily the coast was mostly clear with exception for two or three stragglers. Ghouls from the night before. Alex quickly disposed of them and took the opportunity to track and find painkillers ahead of time. An expired bottle of Tylenol. “Fun times await you, little ones.” He tells the bottle of Oxycontin as he shoves it in his backpack and continues his journey...

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A Coward's Apocalypse

...The best bet was to leave the campus if people started to eat other people. Why stick around? But it was worse out here. More death. This thing that’s happening is happening everywhere.

In front of the Chunky Burger there’s too many of them. They’re ruthless. And Zack can’t talk himself into looking. He doesn’t want to see it keep happening. They’re tear innocent people apart and he can’t even try to help. Those things have taken down giant powerful men. Zack’s just a kid starting college. Undeveloped shoulders predict a child with this sickness easily takes him down. He’s paralyzed.

Behind him the screams get worse.

More people are dying.

More people are killing...

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Going Dark

...explode from every direction. His back vibrates each time a bullet hits the brick wall he’s against.

Derrick was separated from his group in the middle of a supply run. The stricken force them to split up.

Trying to get back he came across these pure bloods eager to steal what he’s scavenged and do who knows what to him. It’s never good. And he needs to deliver the loot. Crucial medicines are in his bag. Medicines someone back at camp needs immediately.

Many times the monsters of this world aren’t the stricken but rather the pure bloods. The people who’ve managed to escape the plague of the stricken have only done so through aggressive brutality. The stricken are small potatoes to the thinking pure bloods. People who torture for what they want. Without a moral compass. They kill indiscriminately. They rape and steal whatever, whoever, whenever.

After the fall of the government the law dissolved. Survival of the fittest began but was overtaken by survival of the monstrous.

Derrick is cornered. Wedged into the gap in a brick wall. There’s nowhere left for him to run. His pistol is dry. Panicked, he...

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Staying Alive II

...shrieking of screamer ghouls buries the whimpering of the grumblers. It hits Alex like nails on a chalkboard, amplified by the migraine. They’ve caught his scent. He opens one eye to assure his lead pipe is nearby. He’s kept the pipe since it first saved his life and remained the one reliable weapon he can use. He tried others, but they didn’t go too well. Like the time he tried to use an easier to wield kitchen knife, but was forced to get too close to a screamer and almost died.

The pipe is there, but fizzy. The migraine makes it hard for Alex’s eye to focus or gather the right amount of light. Things turn out to be fuzzy, nearly shapeless blobs that are too dim or too bright. He grabs it from the edge of the bed where he flung it. His grip tightens around the base of the pipe. “I could do this,” he tells himself.

Alex’s only chance for survival now lies in getting out of the building and away from the horde before they reach him or see him. They’ll inch closer tracking his scent. As long as they don’t lay eyes...

 

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