Matthew R. Stitt // The Writer’s Archive

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  • Halloween Project 2021

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    Halloween Project 2021

  • Green’s Grocery

    Greens Grocery sat on the outskirts of a cluster of small villages in Waterloo township. An essential business supplying the township with canned goods, perishables and liquor. At least, that’s what Frank Green always assumed. Frank had, for forty years, thought of himself as an essential worker. If Frank ain’t working the township ain’t running.

    Six months to the day, the township stopped working. People stopped coming into the store. Frank knew why, he saw it on the news when the drugs stopped working.
    For years, the country had been abusing a drug called Inferno, an antipsychotic but tweaked on the streets to become the last, greatest craze. Antipsychotic became psychotic and people that used it began dying. To counter Inferno, the pharmaceuticals created a new drug. This drug resuscitated the users but eventually drove them further into a psychological rabbit hole. Several corrections later and we have an epidemic world wide.
    “A god-damn zombie apocalypse,” quoted some medical expert on the morning news.

    Frank donned a red shirt, tie and slacks. He walked down the steps from the apartment above to the store for another uneventful day. He entered the warehouse in the rear of the store and spent the next hour and a half preparing what he had left to be displayed in the aisles.
    Paper goods were still plentiful. Frank’s stacked a couple boxes of toilet paper, paper towels and napkins in a shopping cart and pushed it to the door. He unlocked the door handle, chain lock and rolled a large red tool box that blocked the door.
    Frank pushed the shopping cart to the West end of the store, near the coolers. The coolers had been off for months, along with the lights. frozen foods, milk and meat expired months ago. Frank’s priority was to prepare for the enviable return of civility.

    He turned down the last aisle and moved through, past the coolers on the left, then stopped in front of a trio of empty shelves. He placed the paper products on the shelves. When he was done the shelves displayed three packages of toilet paper, towels and napkins and a lot of empty shelf space. 
    Frank pushed the cart to the front customer service desk and entered. He dusted the large counter and the shelves beneath it. The cash register drawer was half open and empty of cash. Frank pushed the drawer closed but it reopened. He pushed it closed a second time then cleaned the shelves beneath. He stopped at a poorly built wooden box. He slid it toward the edge of the shelf and opened it. Inside was a revolver and an open box of ammunition. There were no remaining bullets in the ammunition box but Frank knew there were bullets within the revolver. He grabbed the revolver with his left hand, His hand began to shake. Frank opened the cylinder to verify. He found four rounds ready to use. He closed the cylinder and placed the revolver back in the box. He pushed the box toward the back of the shelf and finished dusting.

    Frank searched and found a clean rag, a bottle of window cleaner and a step ladder. He walked to the front of the store. The front window was plate glass, fairly thick. Two eight-foot by six-foot tall panes separated by a small strip. Frank placed the ladder on the left-most end and began cleaning from the top down. 

    The dirt and grime came free from the inside of the window revealing a parking lot of abandoned cars parked in front of the store. Like an old photograph, a tranquil scene within the center of town. Except, in reality, there was no tranquility. People of the village milled through the street. No one drove any of the vehicles. They milled with no destination. Something to do as they waited to attack anything not sick and brave enough to make an appearance. 
    “Living with such rage,” Frank’s thoughts began to surface. “What was it like trapped in a body or were they just insane? Did they have any conscious thought? 
    Frank caught himself staring out the window at a gentlemen in a three piece suit walking slowly past the broken window of Town Bar. The gentleman dressed to kill, clearly a visitor to Waterloo at some point. Maybe a groomsman at a wedding within the township hall. The gentleman passed the broken window of Town Bar, staring forward. A woman approached from the right. Staring forward and oblivious. The man in the three piece suit walking from the left. Eventually they met in the center of Frank’s view. The expected human behavior being to politely move but these two smashed into each other and became a mangled mess. Both managed to stay on their feet, by some miracle, freed them selves, then moved on. No apology, no angry glances. Just acceptance of anything that was… oh well.

    “No piss’n and moan’n all the time. Oh I didn’t get my donut with my coffee,” Frank says in a mocking tone. 
    The window was half clean when a metallic crash, somewhere in the rear of the store, startled Frank. Frank fell into the window with a thud but the thick glass held.

    The act of falling into the window and the noise it created frightened Frank more then the thought of what could possibly be in the back. He settled the ladder and stood near the top. His left hand still on the plate glass. The crowd outside began to become more animated, as if someone had shouted “Help!” and they all wanted to help. They began to search for the source of the noise. Their interest peaked Frank knew he had to be extra cautious to not confirm his location with another noise.
    “ I haven’t been hear this long and safe to lose it now,” he mumbled.

    Frank heard some of the boxed stock being tossed within the warehouse. He cursed in a whisper. 
    “If it’s Gary,” he said. “I’m going to lose it. I told him to stay in that room.” 

    “He never listens…”

    Another crash, followed by several additional crashes, prompted Frank to stumble from the ladder. The ladder stuck the front window. 
    Frank watched as a hairline fracture spread out from the impact. Outside the window, the infected took notice and began to inspect the front of the grocery.

    Blind, the infected, listened for additional evidence. They milled around the front of the store occasionally slapping the glass to prompt a response from any unfortunate frightened creature.

    Frank wasn’t frightened, he was pissed. His perfectly manicured situation was in danger.
    He was going to rectify this and take it out of Gary’s ass.

  • The split/the rift

    The street was wet and the air smelled like rain. It was the middle of the night and the residents of this small suburb were asleep.

    A small white orb floated in chaotic circles till settling above the suburban street. The orb sat motionless for several moments. Stretched downward in a vertical line, illuminating the street and homes on either side of it. A man stepped from the light and onto the street. He sniffed the air, determined the rain would not be a bother, and tossed his large coat back into the light.

    The man stood and took in the scene. The monochromatic homes lined up on both sides of the street but one stood out. The man smiled and stepped toward the home. The man stepped under a street lamp within a disc of light spilled across the ground. His face was scarred and burned. His eyes red from lack of sleep. He pulled a glowing sword from a leather sheath on his left side. The sword hung from his hand, pointed downward. He followed a blue aura pulsating from the bedroom. He stopped, for a moment, at the outside wall then floated through.

    Appearing within the bedroom he searched for the origin of the blue aura. Two humans lay in a queen-sized bed but the aura floated up from behind the bed. He stepped around the bed and found a small dog sleeping. The aura floating from its body.

    The man grumbled, his scarred face dripped with disappointment.

    “Barely enough to heal a broken fingernail,” he growled. “Two perfectly delicious human subject, not damn ready.”

    He grasp the sword, approached the dying creature and cut him from neck to rear. He reached into the body and yanked a glowing blue seed from beside the heart. Staring at the two humans, sleeping and unaware, the man swallowed the seed. The redness left his eyes. The light from his hands increased in intensity. The man grunted as the soul of the animal meshed with the many already within.

    The human man woke and shook the sleep from his eyes, followed by the woman. The human man sat up and browsed the room but it was dark.

    “What’s going on,” said the woman.

    “I don’t know, a light woke me. Maybe lightning… not sure.”

    “That’s weird,” said the woman.

    “It is,” the man agreed, swung his feet over the edge of the bed and set them down. He recoiled as moisture soaked his naked toes. He flipped the light on and gasp at the sight of his tortured dog.

    The man reappeared outside, beside the tear of light over the drive, and stepped inside. He bent over, recovered his coat and disappeared, taking the light with him.

  • The Ordinary world -part two

    Ken turned to address the spirit and found Caroline floating very close. Ken gasp and stepped back and fell into the company van.

    “You… gawd…” his voice shuddered.

    Caroline disappeared and reappeared in a moment father away. She waited.

    Ken composed himself and stood. He took in a breath and spoke.

    “Don’t”, he said.

    “I’m sorry, distance is hard to judge from the Aether.

    “The Aether?”

    “Your otherworld, land of the dead, the place where spirits go to stay.”

    “I’ve heard of this Aether from other dead.”

    “So you are a seer?” Caroline asked as a beam of sunlight shown through her.

    Ken turned, placed the remaining items in his trunk then turned back hoping Caroline was gone.

    She was waiting a comfortable distance away.

    “I am,” Ken said. “All my very uncomfortable life. Your different… intelligent…”

    Caroline smiled. She shimmered in the light then disappeared.

    Ken grumbled and cursed under his breath.

    “What next?” He thought. “I have some contacts at the police station but it’s been a while. I may not find anything.”

    “She will be back. They always come back. “

  • The Ordinary World

    A crowd stood staring at a grisly scene inside a meticulously manicured hospital hallway. Ken Davidson stood near the scene. He stared at the scene with a large duffel full of cleaning supplies and a dry mop.

    A large pool of congealed blood sat over the square tiled hospital floor and a large splattered pattern was splashed over the wall and a light blue door. A rectangular sign identified the door belonged to the security team.

    He set the duffel on the floor closest to the scene and pulled a plastic bottle from the bag. He combined the bottle with a sprayer when the questions began.

    “What happened here?… What’s going on?… Did someone die?… Oh my god”

    Ken returned to the bag and pulled from it a pair of large wireless head phones and put them over his ears. He began to apply the cleaner to the scene when someone tapped his shoulder.

    Ken turned to see a short man, dressed in a dark blue police officer shirt and slacks waiting for a response. Ken remove the headphones and the men stood awkward for several moments.

    “Ken Davidson, do you not recognize me, it’s Paul.” “Paul Shepherd, remember? I was a rookie cop.”

    Ken frowned but managed a smile. “Paul, how are you? I’m sorry but I don’t recall much of anything from that part of my life.”

    “I’m sorry to hear that Ken,” Paul said with disappointment. “Sorry about what happened to you. You were… are still a hero to many of us.”

    “Thank you,” Ken replied. “But if you don’t mind. I have a hallway to clean.”

    “Yeah, sure Ken. If you need anything I’ll be over here.”

    Paul disappeared from Ken’s view. He returned to work on spraying the floor.

    Music flooded the thoughts and sounds of the people queued behind him. They exchanged rumors and guesses while he ignored them.

    After spraying the hallway, Ken began to mop up the blood and gore. The traffic in the hallway began to increase as the morning aged.

    The bright orange cones redirected the strangers for the most part. Occasionally someone just had to know what happened but Ken ignored them. He kept his head down and his gaze away from anyone. Until someone tapped him on the shoulder.

    He turned to growl at what he assumed would be a glasses-clad, disheveled looking man but was surprised to see a brown-haired woman in a eye-catching white sun dress. She smiled at him.

    Ken smiled back. An automatic response but one that he hadn’t used in 5 years. He was a bit shocked his face had the muscle strength to smile that widely.

    “You have a beautiful smile,” she said, standing in a column of light from a set of windows.

    “So do you, it’s a bit intoxicating,” he blurted.

    The woman laughed. Ken’s heart shook itself from its sleep.

    “I get that all the time,” the woman said then disappeared from view.

    Ken stood staring in her direction for, it seemed like an hour, but she can disappeared.

    A business man walked up to Ken and asked if he knew what had happened.

    Ken automatically explained that a woman had been killed over the weekend.

    “That’s all I know.” Ken then smiled again but this time he caught himself. He canceled the smile and added

    “I need to finish up, thanks.”

    The vision of that woman never left his head. He finished cleaning up the messy scene, packed up his tools and packed them into the portable rolling cart. Questions pelted him mercilessly.

    “Who was she? Why did she disappear? Why did she appear? Do I want to know?”

    “Rules are rules,” he said to himself. A reminder to not follow his warming heart to find this woman but he was losing that fight.

    He knew it was the woman killed in the hallway a few days ago. He had no proof but he was fairly confident. He had been visited before by spirits. They haunted him on occasion but…

    There was something about this woman. An intoxicating sense to her. She had the ability to knock him off his feet but she was dead.

    “She’s dead.” He confirmed to himself.

    He stood and stared at the Security door. He thought to himself, a persistent overwhelming thought.

    “Knock on the door, you idiot,” a woman said. Ken spun to see the woman in a sun dress standing in the hallway.

    “Ask them.”

    “Will it help you?” Ken asked but the woman disappeared when the door to the Security room opened.

    The door opened revealing an array of monitors displaying different rooms in the hospital. A large man stepped from the room.
    Ken bit his lip then spoke.
    “How’s it going? The woman killed, what do you know about her?”
    “I don’t know,” said the guard. “Angry boyfriend? I heard an argument then boom. I crapped my pants.”
    “Do you know anything about her? Name, where she lives?”
    “Why do you care?” Asked the guard. “You just clean up the mess.”
    “Don’t be an ass,” Ken warned.
    The guard pursed his lips, “honestly, all I know is the guy called her Caroline.”
    “Thank you,” Ken said then turned and left.
    Ken dumped what was left of the mess into a drain, washed the mop and bucket and stood at the rear doors of his white box truck. He felt a chill creep up from the ground.
    “What do you want me to do for you, Caroline?”

  • Teraphobia- Killing Barbara

    Featured Story

    Preface

    The stones fell from the sky. There was no storm, no burning trails in the sky. Nothing to prepare the world for the impact of three stones dropped by God. Each stone granted the user the ability to create life in exchange for a life. A cruel test for a human race with a violent imagination. Each stone decorated its own sphere of influence in its own way. The story below relates to the New York stone only.

    The New York stone was dropped somewhere in Central Park. The first, vampire, began as a reluctant cryptid. Prowling at night, careful to patrol and terrorize the forgotten population. With every bite it grew in population till the forgotten could hide no more. The human population in New York struggled to contain the epidemic but ultimately succeeded. The stone continued to grant life for a life and other strange creatures began to appear. The other creatures were destroyed as effectively as they could be by a human race that felt threatened. The stone continued to migrate through the city, state and East coast till landing in the lap of a distressed government worker. His wife, lost to Cancer, rose to her feet and began the infection that would destroy North America. The stone was lost in the chaos.

    Jacob and Michael

    Five years after the Vampire wars. Zombie extermination turned into zombie containment. Large cities turned into giant prisons that contain the zombie hordes and other undesirables. Jacob and Michael are a pair of unlucky original occupants of the city of Cleary. Both men, desperate to escape their zombie wives, hide in the unattached garage.

    —————————————

    “We can head back into my house. We can lock Sharon and Barbara in a room. At least we have some food in the house.” Jacob said as he stared through a grimy window of the garage door. Standing on a pair of milk crates.  “We should have enough room to run to the back door. There are only a few zombie outside the garage door. The back door is unlocked.”

    “No Jacob… What are we going to do? Lock them in the bedroom and listen to them scratch at the door for the rest of our lives? What if they escape? We would still have to kill them.” Michael shot back.

    “I know.  We have to do something!  We can’t stay here any longer.  It’s been two days. I am starving.”  Jacob stumbled from the crates.

    “We screwed up and left them in the house. What if they were still alive,” Michael snapped. “What if they are dead because we left?”

    “Michael they were both bitten and we left them in the house for two days.  They are not alive. They tried to attack us multiple times. Our wives are dead.”

    “Miracles happen,” Michael replied.

    “Are you from this world?  When is the last time you saw a miracle?  Zombie apocalypse kind of killed any hope of miracles.  Look, I had to strangle Sharon with a metal close hanger. Do you want me to describe what that looked like! Zombie skin, putrid… Barbara is the only one left in the house.  We just need to get to the house, put her down and find something in the cabinets. We still have the girl’s rations.”

    “Put her down? She is not a dog. I’m not even hungry,” Michael replied.

    “Liar!  You would rather wallow out here in grief till we die of hunger then run into Barbara and face the fact that she is dead. I should just go out this door without you.”

    Jacob rattled the garage door handle and banged loud enough to attract the nearest zombie.  Soon the blank stare and pale, naked eyes of a monster stared back’

    “Look Michael it’s my neighbor John.  Hi John,” Jacob waved at the creature in the window.  When it didn’t respond he banged on the glass. “Hi John!”

    “Stop,” Micheal said.  “You will attract more.”

    “Do you think about her? Sharon?  The wife you strangled to death?”  

    “Do you wonder if maybe she’s trapped inside her body?  Maybe they would find a cure and you just killed her?”

    “She’s not,” Jacob snapped.  “I swear…Michael”. Jacob paused.  “Sharon tried to kill me. She slammed my head against a damn cabinet. Look at their eyes.  No human in there. They’re all dead. Everyone. Sharon is dead.  Barbara is dead.”

    Michael walked into the darkness of the garage. He stood at a window at the side of the garage and looked outside.

    “Morning should be appearing shortly.  We could wait till morning then go?” He offered.

    “Why?  The zombies will hear us in the day and night.  No difference.”

    “Fine… What’s your plan?

    “I don’t have a plan.  All I know is we can’t stay here.”.

    “Fine, I’ll get the door. You bang on the walls near the back of the garage to draw them away from the door.” Michael pushed past Jacob and grabbed the door handle.  Jacob growled but did as he was told. He banged on the back of the garage. When Michael was satisfied enough of the zombies were away from the door. He opened the door.

    Jacob followed Michael from the garage.  They followed the house toward the back of the home.  At the first window Jacob stopped and looked inside. Michael continued to the next window and looked inside.

    “She was in there.  Her perfect hair drenched in dark clumps of blood.”  He searched till he found Barbara. Her face long and drawn down. Her jaw slack and her arms to her side. She stood staring at a dining room wall.

    Jacob watched the other zombies as Michael daydreamed. The zombie were blind, at least that was the assumption. The eyes were pale with a large cancerous colored orb in one or the other. The zombie hearing hadn’t changed from when they were human. Some heard better than others.

    Michael watched within the window.  “Barbara,” he whispered.

    She moved.  She brought up her right hand and brushed the hair from her face.  The outside world disappeared instantly. Barbara began to dance. She turned.  Her face was hidden behind long beautiful dark hair. She turned and turned again.  For a short time Barbara was alive, till Jacob stepped onto the heel of Michael’s shoe causing pain. Micheal lurched forward and banged his fist upon the glass window.

    “My god, why did you have to do that,” Michael shouted. 

    “Sorry, we need to go now, my pants are full of crap. I have a really bad feeling.”

    “You crapped you’re pants?” Michael asked.

    A large zombie approached from the front of the garage. Two more lumbered near them from the driveway.  Michael turned and stared at a face in the window of the home. Barbara, her pale eyes staring hungrily out the window, scratched at the glass.

    “Go.. go…” Jacob whispered and motioned for Michael to follow him toward the back of the house.  Michael ripped his gaze from Barbara and followed. The two men walked toward the back of the house, careful not to make any more noise.

    Jacob opened the back door and stepped inside.

    “I don’t want to do this,” Michael insisted.

    “This or die?” Jacob replied.

    Michael closed the porch door behind him and searched for a lock.

    “What are you doing? That door doesn’t have a lock.”

    “What do you mean, doesn’t have a lock?” Micheal growled.  The door was ripped from his grip and a large zombie stood at the entrance.

    “Why doesn’t this door have a lock!”

    Jacob struggled with the inside door knob.  The large zombie stepped forward toward the men.

    Michael shoved the zombie with his foot causing it to stumble backward.

    “Get the door open!”

    “I’m trying,” replied Jacob as the knob finally turned and the door opened.

    The large zombie stepped forward. Jacob disappeared within the doorway followed by Michael. Michael closed the door and locked it. and they both stepped into the kitchen. He turned the security bolt and added the chain.

    The large zombie began to bang on the back door.  Michael braced himself against the door until she walked into the kitchen.

    Barbara, her jaw broken and head disfigured stepped into the kitchen.

    Michael shoved his right foot against the door and looked at Jacob.  “What now, genius!”

    “I got this Michael.  I got this.” Jacob stepped forward with a baseball bat but didn’t swing it.  He placed the end of the bat on Barbara’s chest and pushed her back into the dining room.  Attached to the kitchen door was a baby gate. Jacob swung that closed and locked it.

    “I forgot we still had the baby gate, nice.” Michael said. “I do not want to kill Barbara, Jacob. I can’t do it.”

    “You are going to have too. That gate is not going to stop her and she will kill us both.” Jacob replied.

    “I am more worried about the Incredible Hulk right now than I am about Barbara. We need to block this door.”

    “We got nothing to block the door,” Jacob replied.

    “Are you joking? You talked me into jumping back into this house and you have nothing to block the back door.”

    “I have a duffel in the walk in. I will fill that up with food and we can find a way out.” Jacob disappeared into the walk-in. Michael stared forward. His foot still wedged against the door. Barbara stepped forward and growled when she ran into the baby gate. Michael wanted to confront her. Talk to her. Reason with her.

    “Who are you reasoning with,” he asked himself. “Barbara or some animal that wants to tear you to pieces.”

    “Animal?” He asked. “An animal, at least has some animalistic instinct. It has some sense of intellect. This creature is just out to kill for what? Pleasure, doesn’t seem likely. Look at her face,” Micheal continued to ponder. “It’s blank, emotionless, dead… puppet-like.”

    “A puppet? For who? God and his infinite cruelty? Is this some sort of omnipresent revenge plot…”

    He watched as Barbara leapt forward almost tumbling over the knee-length gate. The back door shook and pain shot up through his ankle.

    “Damn it,” Michael cursed. “Cursed world.”

    He turned, grabbed a mop handle. Threw it through the window in the door. The glass shattered. The mop handle struck the zombie in the throat causing it to stumble backward and over the wooden porch railing. Michael growled. He grabbed what was left of the mop and tossed it through the porch. He found the toaster and threw it through the door. The coffee maker…

    “Stop,” Jacob said standing nearby. “That coffee maker was a gift.”

    “I don’t care,” Michael shouted and the coffee maker shattered when it missed the window and struck the kitchen wall. Michael paced the floor. The porch creaked as zombies, attracted by the noise, begin to step onto the porch.

    “Do you really need to have a mental break, Michael… now!” Jacob shouted. “I think you woke up the whole neighborhood. Look there is John.”

    “You always have jokes,” Michael shot back as he limped away from the door. “My wife is dead, your wife is dead. Our children long dead and this door is going to break and the neighbor is going to kill us.”

    “Why are you not broken up over this? You killed your wife. I am staring at the rotten face of my wife.”

    “Right now, you want to ask me that now? We spent three days in a garage alone and you ask me this, now when the world is crashing down on us. You’re an ass Michael.” Jacob frowned. “You think I’m not broken. I haven’t cried over anything since Gregory died. I killed my wife easily with a metal clothes hanger. If that’s not broken I don’t know what else I could be. Can you suck up your crap for a couple moments so we can get out of here. If you will not kill Barbara I will take care if it. We need to get out of this room.

    “Touch here I will kill you with a clothes hanger!” Micheal replied, his voice shaking.

    “That would require you moving past Barbara and going to the bedroom to get a hanger. At least we would be doing something other than arguing here with John staring at us from the doorway.”

    “Your a mad man,” Micheal replied then approached his wife.

    Barbara stood at the entrance to the kitchen reaching forward.

    “She would be so pissed. She hated this baby gate.”

    Micheal stood just outside her reach and stared at her. Her opaque brown eyes stared forward. Her thin face growled as she strained to reach over the gate.

    “In the head, Micheal. From the side is the easiest,” Jacob offered. “Hurry up, they are getting this back door open because someone broke the window.”

    Micheal pulled a kitchen knife from his pocket and stood with the blade up. He stretched his right hand forward. Barbara grabbed the blade and pulled it from his grip. Micheal struggled to free the knife from Barbara’s hand as the creature growled and swung her arms. Blood trickled down her thin hands as he attempted to free the knife from her grip. She gripped the blade tighter. Blood traced dark lines down the chrome blade. Michael grabbed Barbara’s arm and she drew him closer to her open mouth. Michael let her arm go and stumbled back. He grabbed her arm again and released it.

    “Are you going to stab her or dance with her,” Jacob commented. “She has my knife,” Michael replied.

    “If she draws your blood you will be without a wife and a friend.” Jacob said then shoved Michael to the side.  He struck Barbara with a kitchen chair, digging a corner leg into the infected woman’s left shoulder. The weight of the chair melted quickly through the rotting muscle.  Barbara fell backward taking the chair with her. Jacob leapt over the baby gate and knelt on the chair.

    Barbara pushed upward on the chair with her free right hand. Jacob set his feet on her left side and pushed back.

    “Michael please…”

    The back door opened with a crash. John and the other zombies stood for a moment then roared forward. Michael leapt over the gate. He stared at his wife trapped beneath the chair. Michael watched as Barbara seemed too care little about the chair in her shoulder and more about attempting to bite his brother Jacob.

    Jacob leapt from the chair and grabbed the large living room couch. He pulled and pushed the furniture till it blocked the kitchen doorway. Michael knelt upon the chair and stared down at his wife.

    “Twenty years, Barbara. Fifteen of those years locked in marital warfare. Now, look at us. Some creature staring at me from under a chair.”

    “Christ, Micheal this isn’t that hard.” Jacob shouted. “This couch is not doing crap. They just knocked over the baby gate.”

    “Kill her!” He shouted. “Brother, I am running really short of patience and time.”

    Michael stepped from the chair and Barbara attempted to sit up. She lunged in his direction. Michael fell backward. Stood and pressed her to the floor with his boot. He pressed the knife into her soft flesh and waited for her to stop moving.”

    “They are moving around the couch,” Jacob said.

    Michael stood and faced the mob. Jacob handed him an aluminum bat. Michael swung at the closest zombie and connected with the bat.  The zombie stumbled to the side and knocked over a second.

    A zombie pushed through the crowd.  He struck the couch and fell. The couch moved but it held the others back.

    “Remember those… fun little movies we used to watch from this couch before we had monsters attacking us every moment of the day.  We were so lazy back then. Relaxing, watching stuff… doing nothing. Oh, and not killing our wives,” Jacob said.

    Michael squelched when thin boney fingers dug into his left arm. The daggers had reached upward from the corner of the couch. The zombie dug it’s long, sharp nails further into Micheal’s arm. Michael twisted.  He grasp the bone-like hand with his right hand and pulled. Pain radiated up his arm and into his shoulder. The nails tore large cuts into his forearm as the muscles in zombie’s hand stretched. A second zombie pushed forward and reached toward Michael.  Jacob swung. He struck the zombie and the zombie collapsed.

    Michael grasp his arm. Blood traced trails down his pale wrist. Something grabbed his left ankle and Michael froze. He looked down and shouted. “Jacob, she has my legs. “Barbara, her face unrecognizable had a hold of his right leg.

    “Get her off my leg!!”

    Jacob watched as Barbara sat motionless on the floor three feet from Michael. “She’s not on your leg. She is dead,” Jacob shot back.  “She’s not moving.”

    Michael pulled the sharp fingers from his forearm.  He retrieved the bat from the floor.  He shoved the couch against the wall. Jerked his ankle from Barbara’s perceived grasp. Jacob grabbed Barbara’s blood soaked dress and pulled her away.

    “Michael, you’re losing it,” Jacob stated. “Seriously thought I would be having the problems in this house.”

    The couch slid upon the floor. The zombies began to filter through.

    “Michael calm down,” Jacob said. “It’s fine.”

    ”It’s not fine!  This is NOT fine!”

    “Take a breath… Barbara is dead. We have to figure out how to get out of this.”

    “I felt her grab my ankles!  We have to get out of this house,” Michael said while scanning the front room.

    The front door was on the other side of the room but it led to a certain death and the kitchen was a no go area. Behind the two men was the main bedroom.  A large queen-sized bed sat in the center of the room. A window in the front wall and a closet against the far wall.

    ”Maybe, we should hide in the closet.”  Michael smiled.

    “Dude, not that.  Not now. Let’s block this doorway of the bedroom,” Jacob replied.

    Both men lifted the large queen mattress from the bed and stuffed it into the doorway.

    “Why did you not add a door to your bedroom,” Michael asked.

    “We have no kids.  We don’t need it.” Jacob replied.

    The men flipped up the frame and pushed it against the bedding.  Jacob grabbed a towel from the closet in the right rear of the room.

    Michael stood with his back against the mattress and frame. Jacob tossed the towel at Michael and stood beside him.

    “Wrap that up the best you can.  When we get out of here I will make you a proper dressing,” Jacob instructed.

    From above Michael’s head a thin, rotten hand reached up and over the wall.  It ran its black goo covered hand over the side of Michael’s face. Michael stepped forward, turned and growled.  “I am so tired of you monsters touching me! Stop touching me!”

    The wall built from bedding began to fall forward.  Jacob struggled to manage his end and Michael’s end fell. Zombies fell over the bed and tumbled into the room.  Jacob glared at Michael. Michael attempted to readjust the wall but the damage was done.

    Jacob wrestled with the bed frame to keep the other pair out.  He watched as the two zombies cleared their heads and stared forward. A simple sniff of the air alerted the zombie to the men’s presence and it started to move forward.  The other zombie followed soon after.

    Michael pointed the bat.  A zombie stopped after meeting the resistance created by the bat then continued forward.  The thin skin of the monster tore and gore began to cover the bat. The other zombie moved around to the left of the first one.  Jacob struggled to contain the other with the faltering mattress wall. The room constricted as the pair approached. One on the right and the other near the center of the room.

    “The window, we can go out the window!” Jacob shouted.

    “No way, it will attract more from outside. We will never make it through without being mauled,” Michael replied.

    Jacob shoved the mattress a final time followed by Micheal. The men then peered out the window, into the darkness.

    “I can’t see a damn thing, it’s still dark.”

    “Smash it!” Jacob insisted. He approached the zombie in the center of the room with the bat. He swung and struck the creature in the chest. It heaved a breath, stood for a moment then continued forward. Jacob swung a second time hitting the creature’s shoulder. The bat fell. Jacob’s hands shook.

    Michael tapped the window with his own bat putting a small hole in the center of the lower pain. A second tap shattered the rest of the glass. Michael pushed out the outside screen and stuck his head out the window. A pair of arms wrapped themself around Michael’s waist and he took in a panicked breath. Pulled from the window Michael turned and shoved Jacob into the opposite wall. Jacob tumbled into the wall and slid to the floor.

    “Dude.. no!” Michael warned.

    Jacob gasp then replied, “Ass… look.”

    Michael turned to find a pair of swollen hands grabbing at the meal that was in the window for a moment.

    “Damn…” Michael grumbled. “Frickn monsters. Five years Jacob! We have been in this crap five years. Monster invasion in New York City and now we’re are all in the soup. Brother…” He said to Jacob. “We are done.”

    Micheal squared up in front of a zombie. He swung at his face and stuck the zombie. It’s face twisted, the zombie didn’t hesitate and stepped forward.

    Jacob stood and prepared to attack the other zombie but his bat lay on the floor beside the creature.

    Michael swung again and his zombie fell. He banged the gore-covered bat on the floor. Moved to face zombie two, Michael swung and the bat became twisted in the rubbery arms of the reaching zombie. Michael watched the bat cartwheel into the wall. The zombie’s arms fell to its side at the elbow. It moved forward as if it hadn’t just walked into an aluminum fan.

    “What the hell, dude?” Jacob grumbled.

    “Hey, you did it first.”

    “Now what!”

    “We go melee,” Michael said as his took a boxer stance.

    “Like your cleric… what was it’s name Wisconsin. Remember that melee?” Jacob asked.

    “This is not a remember D&D moment Jacob!” Michael warned, paused then laughed.

    “Wisconsin was a good character name.”

    “Yeah, in memory of the state. Now it is part of the Northeast territory.”

    Michael struck another zombie with his fist. The zombie stared forward, as the right side of its head collapsed. The pain of the impact forcing Michael’s hand open and he finished the blow with a slap.

    The zombie stumbled to the right, opposite direction of Michael’s blow. It crashed into the bedroom wall. Hitting it hard with it’s fragile face. The profile of the creature’s face collapsed. Leaving a soft, gooey center and blood spread upon the wall as it slid down.

    Jacob swung next and missed. His fist skated over the zombie’s nose, breaking it easily. Jacob’s elbow followed and struck the zombie in the right eye. The zombie’s head fell backward. The rest of its body forward. Its rubbery arms flailed. Jacob and the zombie collided. The zombie’s head snapped forward. It’s right eye hid behind its boney socket. Its long grimy teeth struck Jacob in the shoulder. Jacob fell on his back. The zombie fell upon him but struck the hardwood floor with its forehead. The noise from the impact echoed through Jacob’s ears. The zombie skull cracked with the first blow. It shattered with the second. Blood sprayed the floor and covered half of Jacob’s face. Jacob wanted to move but his body didn’t. His arms and legs wanted to lay under the creature and think about this a moment. Jacob screamed at Michael as warm, retched smelling liquid, dripped upon his T-shirt and jeans. He tried to shove the zombie upward and right but the body didn’t move.

    Michael lifted the body and moved it.

    “Dammit Michael your not the only one that’s done with this crap. My god how much can I put up with. I’m done Michael!” Jacob replied.

    “I can’t do this shit anymore. My wife died twice everyone else wants to eat me. I’m going to just stop fighting.”

    Michael grabbed his brother and lifted him from the ground. “Stand up. We just gotten live.”

    Jacob shoved Michael’s hands away but his knees sank. Michael grabbed Jacob before he fell. “Jacob don’t be an idiot, now stand on your feet!”

    “I’m trying dude.”

    Footsteps approached the bedroom door and the blockade. A zombie fell forward the moment it attempted to step through it. A second appeared, paused and fell.

    “The closet…”

    “Your closet is great and all.  Who knows what you did in there… you spent a lot of time in there growing up but I ain’t getting eaten hiding in a closet,” Michael spat.

    Jacob smiled, “dude, if you only knew.”

    “I do not want to know what you did in the closet, by yourself when you were alone. Change of subject.”

    The two zombies, that had tumbled over the bedding blockade, began to stir. They stood upon the mattress. Attempted to move and fell. Three more stepped forward into the bedroom and approached the blockade. The lead zombie paused causing the second to stop suddenly and step to the left. The third slowed then stood and seemed to be listening.

    “IQ test,” Michael said while watching the trio attempt to navigate the obstacle.

    “Idiot zombies,” Jacob added. The closest zombie snapped at Jacob. Lunging from its prone position.

    “F-U Teeth mother–“

    “Let’s hide in the closet,” Michael interrupted.

    Both men skirted past the fallen zombies and the mess on the floor. Jacob opened the faux walnut closet door. Inside, an arms length of women’s clothing.

    “It’s her clothes,” Jacob said. The color in his face disappeared.

    “We have to move them,” Michael began to pull handfuls of the clothing from the closet and toss them behind him while Jacob watched.

    “No! Not the dresses! You’ll get them all dirty. They will!” Jacob screamed and attempted to stop Michael.

    “Jacob stop!” Michael replied. Zombies crawled over the mattress and approached the two men. They were a foot from Jacob when Michael grabbed his brother and threw him into the closet. Jacob inhaled Sharon’s scent as the material overwhelmed him. Michael joined his brother inside the cramped, dark room. He attempted to close the closet door but realized that the door was blocked by all the clothing. Michael listened as the closet door behind them rattled. The prone zombies used the closet door to help them stand. Michael tried to close the door a second time with the same results.

    “Jacob, can you pause your psychotic break and clear the floor so WE DON’T DIE!” Michael screamed. The zombie’s outside the closet clawed at the closed door and began toward the open door. Jacob recovered and shoved the clothing on out of the way. The door, free of debris, was jerked from Jacob’s hands. A zombie stepped forward and screamed. A guttural noise full of anger. Jacob felt hopeless as the creature lunged forward. Its hands raised, became trapped within the metal hangers that remained on the curtain rod. The zombie attempted to rip its hands from the trap but became more tangled. Jacob shoved clothing into the zombie. He pushed the creature and it tumbled backward. Jacob grabbed the closet door and closed it.

    The closet smelled of mold. Horrible creatures amassed outside the fragile doors. Michael stood at the left door. He held onto a thin aluminum handle that was screwed into the faux wood with two small screws. He took in long breaths and waited for their unavoidable fate.

    “We are screwed.” Michael said after a long while. Jacob did not reply. Michael knew Jacob was on the right side of the closet, but he couldn’t see anything. He could only hear him working on something. An occasional grunt then a crash that shook the entire closet.

    “What the hell,” Michael shouted as light crept through the bottom of the closet.  Everything within the fragile shelter shuddered.

    “I found it!”  Jacob shouted.

    “You found what, you’re dolly?  Your teddy bear… you always break under pressure Jacob always.  Remember that morning we went hunting with dad and you had a perfect shot.  It was right there… you choked. Remember Joann your first girlfriend…”

    Something grabbed Micheal by the throat and he gasp.  Seconds ticked by as the darkness took in deep breaths.  “Shut up Michael and listen to me,” Jacob said. “Your an adult and I’m an adult.  I know you are under stress and you lash out but personally I have had too much death and complaining.  Listen. I have a way out. I built a trap door in this closet when we were younger.. ie.. why I would hide in the closet for hours.  I wasn’t here. I was with Joann. Do you get it?”

    Michael shook himself from Jacob’s grip.  “Dude, calm yourself. Fine.” He took a breath and continued.  “You’ve had this hole in the floor here all this time. We’ve been adults for 15 years, parents died, you bought the house and you never filled in the hole in the closet?”

    “Michael are you coming or what?”

    “Yes, dude… get over yourself with this new sense of self… hell.  How am I supposed to see anything?”

    “Just head this way…” Jacob said followed by a curse.  “The hole is too small.”

    “Right, size of a twelve year old?”  Michael snapped.

    “Bend down here and pull up these planks,” Jacob instructed as both men tried to widen the hole within the floor of the closet.

    Michael pulled up the first plank with significant effort tossed it to the side then a second.  The closet door opened and the smell of death stole away any sort of hope that the two men would make their escape without any trouble.

    “Jacob, you are going to have to squeeze that tub of a body through that hole,” Micheal told him as he jerked on a closet rod. The clothes on the end of the metal rod tumbled into the darkness. The creature appeared within moments. Its shaded, murderous jaws chomped at the air. Micheal pushed the rod into the zombie’s face pushed it against the closet door. A second stepped into the darkness to reveal a perfect human face. It wasn’t gored or rotten. The only tell would be the blindness that cursed the creatures… if that was even a curse.

    Michael stuck that creature in the face, right under the eye and it fell over the other.

    “Micheal, I’m in let’s go,” Jacob shouted.

    Michael dropped the curtain rod. He found Jacob’s hand and arm waving from below the closet floor. The hole was just wide enough to fit his thinning waistline but not without some huge difficulties. He sat, with his back to the zombies. Michael leap to the dirt floor then stopped. A sharp pain erupted under his right breast. He screamed, looked down but couldn’t see a thing.

    “Jacob, something just stabbed me,” he grunted.

    Jacob crawled on his hands and looked up. There was barely enough light to make out the shape of a thin nail stretching outward and into Michael’s chest.

    “It’s a nail Michael,” Jacob told him.

    “Pull it out.”

    “I can’t it’s pointed up. You will have to lift yourself back up,” Jacob reply.

    Michael growled and cursed and struggled to stand. The distance to the ground was barely as long as he was tall and the effort felt herculean. He pushed his palms into the floor of the closet and pushed. Inch by painful inch he had risen till he could go no further.

    “You got to go higher,” Jacob said.

    Michael grunted and pushed till he realized that their undead pursuers were close behind him. “Damnit… do something Jacob,” Michael shouted.

    “Do what Michael! You need to push up!”

    “They are coming and I have my back to them.”

    “Push, Michael! Push!”

    “I can’t. I got nothing.”

    “Damn it,” Jacob cursed and crawled under Michael’s feet.

    “Stand on my chest, damnit!” He ordered.

    Michael struggled to find Jacob’s chest but stood upon his ribs once he did. Jacob grabbed Michael’s feet and pushed up. He waited till Michael cleared the nail then instructed Michael to hold while Jacob pushed the nail downward.

    Jacob barely finished when Michael fell. It was more of a crash as feet and legs tumbled over Jacob’s chest and head.

    Jacob woke up first, half buried in dirt and with his brother’s feet in his face. His face felt as if someone has superglued half of it together with rocks and other crap. He looked up at the bottom of the house. The jagged escape hole was covered in debris. Jacob could hear movement above the debris.

    “Wake up, Michael.” Jacob said as he shoved his brother. “We made it. Wake the hell up!”

    Jacob shoved Michael again. Michael growled.

    “Get the hell up, you lazy, fat tart.”

    Michael growled again and Jacob began to shake from the inside out.

    “No… no.. no. Michael you stupid ass. You will get the hell up. You will not be dead. Get up!”

    Jacob shoved Michael again. Michael stood on his hands and attempted to stand slamming his head upon the floor of the house. Jacob slid backward as fast as he could. Michael turned his head. His face pale and contorted in anger. Michael’s grey eyes turned to Jacob and he begin to crawl.

  • Teraphobia- Charlie

    The Southern Territory of Teraphobia contains swamplands, sweltering heat and a number of fish-like creatures. Life in the Southern Territory never recovered from the Great Invasion. Lucky enough, the undead infection stopped somewhere North but the creature invasion was unusually cruel in the territory. The fortitude of humanity lives huge in the movies, books and our imagination but what if that fortitude was pushed to the limit.

    The sun stood staring down from its mid-day perch. Larry walked across his small yard with a fishing pole on his shoulder and two smaller ones in his left hand. Erica, a blond explosion of energy bounded around him while Robert moped several feet behind both of them.
    “Why do we have to do this again,” Robert said.

    “Because I don’t get to take much time off anymore. This new job takes a lot out of me.”
    “Are we going to catch Charlie today, Daddy?” Asked Erica as she raced ahead.
    “I think we are, darling. Today is the day.”
    “You say that every time, Dad.” Said Robert as he reluctantly took one of the smaller poles from his father.
    “I say it everyday because one of these days I’m going to be right.” Larry smiled widely. He beamed down at his son and watched as his young daughter danced around the small pond behind his house.
    Robert reluctantly threw out his line and waited impatiently. Something tugged on his pole bringing it inches from the water. Larry dropped his pole and grabbed Robert’s pole. They both pulled with everything they had till finally the fabled fish leapt from the pond.
    “Oh..” said Robert as he flashed a smile and watched. Larry quickly grabbed the fish and looked it over. Two long blue lines ran along the sides of the fish. Its remaining scales glistened in the sunlight. It was a beautiful beast. Robert screamed, stepped back and refused to touch the large fish. Erica stepped forward, pushed forward the large fins and held the fish like a superstar. Larry unhooked the fish and threw it back in the water.

    Several years later...

    Larry Price sat staring at the telephone. He was wishing for it to ring. Wishing for someone to tell him where Erica was. His life had taken a turn for the outrageous, along with everyone else in the former State of Louisiana. Add to that, his wife left him dragging Robert with her.

    Erica stuck with her drunk of a father. She dealt with his inexcusable self pity after his wife left. She would of been sixteen-years old today.

    Erica took care of him dispite of her mother’s opinion on the matter. She left their only daughter in the hands of an irresponsible wreck of a man.

    “He should of been out there with her,” he thought as he downed the rest of glass of whiskey and filled it again. “She shouldn’t of disappeared. She shouldn’t of drown in the pond.”

    Larry was still the authorities prime suspect for the disappearance. They approached Larry’s small trailer and opened the door. Larry looked at them and passed out. He woke up in a cell. The police had laid him out upon the small bed within it. Around 10 o’clock they woke him and lead him to an interrogation room. They interviewed him and screamed at him. They knew Larry had done something to his daughter. They assumed this downtrodden man would confess to everything but Larry was too lost in himself. Lost in grief…

    He didn’t care what they did to him. He almost confessed when his son stepped in to declare his father innocent. Robert, now 22 years old, hired a lawyer and got his father released from custody. He drove him home and helped him into bed.

    “Dad”, Robert said sadly. “You need to straighten up. You almost confessed to murder. Are you that ready to give up on Erica?”

    “I am,” Larry paused.

    “You can’t give up on Erica,” Robert pleaded. Robert took his father home. He stayed for several more hours then left.

    Larry concluded, before he slept, that he would wake up in the morning and decide what to do to end his life. He had ample ways. Maybe he could drown himself in the pond that took Erica’s life.

    Hours later, something crashed outside Larry’s house. He woke up with a start and sat up in bed. He could clearly hear something moving through his yard. The likelihood of a stray dog in this neighborhood was extremely high so Larry ignored it and went back to sleep.
    Morning came very early. A column of light burned Larry’s face as he laid in bed. He opened his eyes and realized glass from his bedroom window was thrown all over the end of his bed. The blanket, that served as a curtain, sat on the floor. The first thought to enter his mind was neighbor kids but it wasn’t likely. They avoided his house like the plague. He carefully moved his feet off the bed. He got up and carefully looked out the window.
    Something had made a mess of his yard. It looked like an animal of some sort. Large claw marks under torn gray siding told him that. The ground was moist from a recent rain and Larry noticed a human-sized trail of mud leading to the marsh. It looked-as-if someone had been dragged. Larry got dressed and almost fell from his front door. Something had shoved his stairs from the door and it laid against his truck. Larry jumped from his trailer and pulled the stairs back under his door. Larry found the trail of mud beside his house and followed it till it disappeared into the pond.
    Expecting to see a body Larry approached the water carefully. The pond was deeper then it looked. Larry had fallen in it several times over the years. Nothing stirred within the water. Larry stared into the mysterious pond for several more minutes when nothing showed up he left.
    It was Sunday and God was waiting. Larry got dressed, left his house and slowly crept into his truck. He stared again at the pond and caught a glimpse of something swimming near the surface. A little bit of hope, and a slight smile surfaced. Charlie was back, he thought as his stepped out of his truck. He grabbed his fishing pole and worms and walked back to the pond.
    Larry strung up the worm and cast the pole into the center of the pond. Immediately, Charlie took the bait and Larry braced himself against a tree. Charlie pulled. Larry pulled but neither would give. Larry pulled hard, conscious that he may snap the line. He was going to win this fight. Charlie pulled back and nearly tore the pole from Larry’s hands. His arthritis ached and his back screamed but Larry held his ground. There was little chance Charlie was getting away this time.
    That was until Charlie leapt from the pond and Larry dropped the pole. It wasn’t the Charlie he’s seen years ago. It had a long cylindrical body and a large tail, fanned out like a peacock’s plume. It had a human head which disappeared behind a long crop of black hair. It reentered the pond and sank into its depths. Larry’s fishing pole began to slide toward the water. He grabbed the pole and walked around the biggest tree he could find. If he was going to lose his line it wouldn’t be without a fight.
    He went around the tree three times. He held the pole as hard as the arthritis in his joints would let him. He waited and he waited but nothing pulled on the line. It sat limp in the water. Again life and hope drained from his face as he realized that his magnificent catch disappeared.
    Larry left the pole lying against the tree, he hung his head and went to church.
    Larry returned a couple hours later. He had started drinking after church and continued until dark. He woke up on the couch in the middle of the night because of a crash outside the house. He sat up slowly, his head full of marbles. He stood only to sit again. Another crash started him and then the distinctive sound of someone crushing his metal trash cans.
    “Get out of here!” He shouted loudly the noise echoing between his ears. He stood and shuffled to the door. He opened the door and began to shout again but stopped. The beast from the pond sat upon his trash cans. Its long black hair covering its face.
    “What the hell are you?” He asked not expecting it to respond. The beast flipped its black mane from its face to reveal someone familiar.
    “Erica?”
    The beast turned and sped back to the pond. It slithered like a snake holding a human, up and in its grasp. Larry stepped from his trailer and fell hard to the ground. He woke up late Monday morning with a welt over his left temple and dried blood pasted to his face.
    “I saw Erica last night.” Larry said confidently as he stepped into work.
    “I’m sure you did.” Laughed the foreman. A greased up, pig of a man. ” You were likely wasted again like you always are…” He laughed again. “…but your the best damn worker I got. I don’t know how you do it.”
    “I’m sure I could answer that”, Larry thought but declined to sink back into his familiar stupor. He felt good today, even with the noticeable lump on his face. He happily fielded questions about it with a reply including he had found his daughter. Most were happy for him until he included what had happened to him last night.
    Larry fought with the foreman to let him leave after eight hours. Larry hadn’t worked less then ten in 6 months. Finally, the foreman took him aside and asked if he was alright. “The men are all taking about you and this fish story of yours. They say you have finally lost your mind.”
    “I haven’t lost my mind,” Larry said with a smile.
    “My God, Lawrence I haven’t seen you smile so brightly in seven years. Why don’t you take a few days off.”
    “I would be happy to.” Larry said confidently and left.
    It was ten o’clock and dark as sin. The old headlights on his truck barely illuminated the road ahead but Larry was wide awake and more alert then he’d ever been.
    The drive home went quickly. He passed the bar that he frequented every night and pulled the truck into his driveway. He scanned his yard like a kid at Christmas but didn’t see a thing. He had a super-bright flashlight in the back of his truck. He reached into the bed and found it. He turned it on and again scanned the yard. Still nothing but he shouted into the stale marsh air.
    “Erica!”
    He walked toward the pond. The bright yellow light encircling a small patch of the still water.
    “Erica!”
    Something stirred and Larry swept the light toward it. The beast crawled slowly from the right-side of the pond. Larry walked toward it a little too recklessly and it reared up like a frightened rattler.
    It was too late when he realized that Erica was not in that beast. It was an animal like the feral dogs that roamed around the neighborhood. Larry stepped back slowly but the beast moved fast and grabbed his left arm. It pulled him closer and revealed a large set of predator teeth.
    Desperate, Larry said the only thing that came to mind, “Erica, please. Please don’t kill me.”
    The beast settled for a second and it lightened its grip. Larry saw for the slightest of that second his little girl glistening in the reflection of the beast’s black eyes. He recalled Christmas when she was four. Erica sat in front of the tree as he and Catherine watched smiling. She opened her presents with such innocence, such gleeful enthusiasm. The beast then dropped Larry hard upon the wet marsh ground. Several smaller circles of light danced around him. Larry knew what it was and what was coming. He stood quickly, but carefully and turned his back to the beast.
    “Don’t you think about shooting this beast. I will haunt you for the rest of your damn lives if you kill it.”
    Robert stood, pale-faced behind his flashlight watching the beast stand quietly behind his father. Two police officers stood on each side of him and one walked toward Larry and the beast. Larry turned to face the beast again and ducked a vicious swing from its long, sharp claws. The officer that approached took the blow and collapsed. The beast tore into the officer as his partner stood in shock. Robert fired the first shot which grazed the beasts head. The other officer fired the remaining shots and the beast fell upon its back. Larry stared at the beast. Two long blue lines traced the sides of the tail. He looked up upon the human body and realized it had changed. It’s hair was short, inches from the scalp, and it’s face was masculine. It had taken the officers life. It had taken his face. Grief erupted from every pore. Charlie had taken his daughter from him. Charlie had destroyed his life. Charlie had done the worse. Larry stared at his mud-covered knees and his worn-arthritic hands till a warmth struck his chest. He then collapsed and everything disappeared.
    Larry woke up several days later. Tubes, in his nose, and machinery thumping along side him. Robert was sitting, asleep in a small hospital chair in the corner of the room. He thought about everything that had happened to him. He thought about Erica, Charlie and his life. He questioned his methods and why he had chosen this path. He realized that he had given his life to Charlie, a fantasy. A fish that took away his life. Charlie was now gone. Erica was gone but Robert was still here. Larry’s life wasn’t completely destroyed and he could still recover. It was time to start again.

  • Teraphobia – The part with Gary

    Erik sings parts of a song long past it’s prime. He recalled his life as the music flowed through his ears… but he brushed it away and swallowed the rest of the whiskey he found.

    “The world was different,” he thought as a zombie stumbled through the aisles of an abandoned grocery. “At least it’s the only zombie in here.”

    Erik stood, he stared through grime-covered glass at an abandoned grocery he had been calling home for two months.

    “Gary!” Erik shouted, opening the glass doors of a defunct refrigerator.

    Startled, the zombie leapt. It turned its grotesque head then returned to it’s aimless search for the living.

    “You freak”, he shouted. “The only other creature here and I still can’t get attention.”

    Erik reached for a gallon of solidified milk, he opened the door wide and threw the jug at the zombie.

    “Hey, stink-face. Eat me.”

    The solidified milk burst from the jug, covering the zombie in white.

    Erik laughed… coughed… then laughed again.

    The zombie turned and growled. It then marched toward Erik.

    “Gary is mad.. Gary is mad…” Erik taunted between fits of laughter. “Ha…”

    A noise within the dark store warehouse changed his mood.

    Did he lock the back door? Did someone figure out his traps and walk inside?

    A crash. Several human voices. A curse followed by several others. The noise within the darkness confirms Erik’s fear. He attempts the close the glass refrigerator door but it will not move.

    Erik stared into the pale, dead eyes of a mid-sized zombified human. The creature grasp the glass door. His right arm outstretched. His hand holding the glass door. Erik moved his hand backward. The zombie took in a deep breath to reveal it’s perfect teeth. Erik paused. The zombie had teeth polished and healthy.

    “What the hell,” Erik said to himself as he withdrew his hand. Gary, the zombie, shoved the door and the glass shattered. The creature squared it’s body with the frame of the open doorway, bared it’s teeth and stepped forward.

    “Gary!” Erik shouted. “Gary, have you been brushing your teeth? I lost my teeth six months ago and you have thirty-some tighty-whities. What the hell… I thought we were friends. You know we can’t be friends anymore.”

    Erik stepped back. A shelf of empty bottles of liquor fell. They crashed upon the dirty floor. Gary pushed through the doorway and into the disabled refrigeration unit. Gary snapped.

    Erik grabbed the left side of the zombie’s head. Attempted to push it sideways. Gary turned it’s face and Erik’s left arm came within inches of those perfect teeth.

    Erik shook with fear. He withdrew his arm, held the zombie with his right and shoved the zombie backward. Erik stepped forward pushed Gary backward with his right foot. The zombie flailed, tripped and fell into a store aisle. The dusty products cascaded to the floor.

    “Christ,” shouted the human stranger. “Who has time to string up all this rope.”

    “It sounds to me like someone else, non dead, is here.”

    “Get out of my home!” Erik shouted.

    “Listen dude,” said one of the men. “We need shelter. You look to be smart. We don’t mean to cause any issue.”

    “I don’t have time for this,” Erik growled.

    Erik looked to his left. He found Gary struggling to stand with a long piece of aluminum thrust through his thin chest. Erik stumbled into the darkness of the warehouse.

    A new scent waft within the darkness. It was a very uncomfortable scent, familiar. Erik knew the smell immediately.

    “You left the door open! You let them in!”

    The invading zombies growled. The scent coming closer.

    “Light switch… Light switch.. where did I put you,” Erik sang.

    The zombies approached. He heard the other human strangers struggle. A string struck Erik’s face. He paused, smiled and pulled. A sheet of aluminum fell from the ceiling. Erik leapt forward. His shoulder struck a large steel shelf. Pain screamed from his shoulder to his hands. The sheet of aluminum rocked within the stale air of the warehouse. Light from a skylight flooded a small section of the darkness.

    Erik rolled to his back, holding his shoulder. He watched as the thin silver sheet struck a black steel shelf, causing it to ring. The sheet fell forward and into a small zombie woman approaching. The sheet shoved the undead woman and knocked her over.

    The light illuminated a large circular pattern in the center of a warehouse of neglected store stock. Near the open back door Erik saw another zombie stumble in.

    “Close the damn door!” He ordered.

    The woman zombie moaned then stood. The sheet of aluminum fell from her shoulder leaving a view of the bone beneath the rotten skin.

    The sheet fell forward…

    Erik twisted and turned to free himself. The creature bled a thick putrid liquid. Erik shoved the creature up and away. The sheet of aluminum slipped from the wound and thundered to the ground.

    Erik stumbled backward. He removed his shirt and pants. He skirted back and hid within the darkness. He fell asleep.

    The sound of hammers, multiple hammers woke Erik from his sleep. The voices echo through the warehouse-sized back room.

    “This is a stupid place to hide. Have you seen the large picture windows. Dude, find some large sheets of wood or something.”

    “Shut up yo.. This is the only thing close we could find. Don’t criticize.”

    Erik grumbled. He stood and the room spun.

    “Get out!” He shouted from the darkness.

    “What the hell was that,” said one of the voices.

    “There is someone in here, you idiot.” Replied the other. “It’s likely a survivor.”

    “Get out!” Erik repeated. Stepped forward and stumbled over several boxes of back stock. He fell and the crash echoed through the room.

    “What if he is a zombie?”

    “He is not, Sean. Zombies don’t talk.”

    “How am I supposed to know that Anthony. We have been here thirty minutes.”

    “Just hold on.”

    “We are not here to harm you, brother. We are here for shelter. We were captured and tossed into the walls of the city. This is the closest safe shelter, replied the voice.

    “You’ll see how safe it is when you fall into my traps,” Erik replied.

    “What traps,” replied one of others. “Those stupid-ass wires we cut with the weights?”

    Erik stood, shoved a sheet of plywood forward. It slipped under the metal shelves, then slid into his ankles. He swore and found himself trapped against the back wall.

    The human intruders approached with flashlights searching.

    “Sir, don’t be frightened we will not hurt you,” a voice added.

    “I’m not frightened you idiot. I don’t want you here in my shelter.” Erik shot back.

    “Maybe we should just leave him… no then he would bitch too much. Let’s just kill him.”

    “No Sean,” said Andrew.

    Erik’s attempted to lift the plywood trap but the space between him and the wall restricted his movements. Erik watched as the light came closer. The light highlighted an image of Erik within a nearby mirror.

    “You know they are after you,” said his doppleganger. They are hunters. They are looking for Erik, the horrible.”

    “I did not do what they accused me of,” Erik shouted. The image disappeared.

    “Hey, bro… We ain’t judging you,” said Sean. “They got us too. Hell if it was trumped up.”

    “Ha…” laughed Andrew.

    “Just help me,” Erik pleaded.

    The lights converged on Erik revealing a fifty year old disheveled man. Half of Erik’s face was covered in curly black and grey hair.

    “Just help me out.” Erik snapped.

    Andrew and Sean begin to pull wood and debris to free Erik.

  • Teraphobia

    Teraphobia

    As children, the world is terrifying? Shadows in a dark corner, noises in the kitchen or the tall dark stranger that approaches you and your mother in the parking lot of a shopping mall.

    As a child I had teraphobia, the fear of monsters. A condition prominent during childhood. The condition normally resolves itself in time. Imagine a world where this is an everyday occurrence. Not the fear of monster that are not there. The fear of the ones that are real and everyone knows they exist. There is no hiding.

    Vampires, zombies and more

    Notice of intent: A promise to myself and my reader. I intend to rebuild my blog. Reshape my stories into an interconnected world.

    Work in Progress/ Status

    Charlie: Updated today

    Killing Barbara: was updated but needs introduction. This is in the North Eastern territory and within the City of Zombies

    The Part with Gary: Still needs work. Needs to be reshaped, edited and reworked

  • Day 1 – Healing the relationship – COz

    So I’ve been discussing the relationship with my novel COz and there has been some more progress during the reconciliation. Thoughts of reworking and organizing bring back excitement and thoughts of grandiose.

    One issue was character introduction. I initially introduced my protagonist and a small group of supporting characters. I tried to make it about the protagonist but the other characters carried the story. This was a mistake caused by lack of planning. The story jumps from place to place with no clear path.

    The solution to lack of planning? Plan.

    So later in the novel I introduce multiple interesting creature/characters. Why can’t I introduce them at the beginning? Spend the entire novel building these threads.

    The Sirens, the Minotaur, Ambrosia- the spider woman

    Erik, Sean, Andrew and the Baker brothers.

    Jean Luke and Gabriel

    That is eleven characters

    So here is the tough part. I have eleven characters, each with some good and bad. None fleshed out completely except for my protagonist Erik. So what do I do?

    Make a decision… so let’s do that. So my to-do will be to add the characters and build a new intro. I need to research that too. Researching everything this time.