Matthew R. Stitt // The Writer’s Archive

Tag: Monster

  • The Trial of Dr. Gabriel Loren Cross

    “Does the jury have a verdict?”

    The judge sat elevated above the courtroom, his expression flat as he spoke to the jury foreman.

    The foreman, a tall, vampiric, pale-faced man rose. He opened an envelope, removed a folded sheet and cleared his throat.

    “We the jury,” he began, “find the defendant guilty of count one, attempted augmentation of a living organism.”

    “And count two?” The judge prompted.

    The foreman hesitated. He stared straight ahead, avoiding the judge’s gaze. The courtroom quieted as the pale man looked down.

    “We the jury, find the defendant not guilty of second-degree murder of a child.”

    The courtroom gasp. The judge sat back. Lips pressed tight.

    Chatter began to spread from small to a larger murmur. The audience within the small courtroom began to then talk amongst themselves.

    The judge stood abruptly. The room fell silent.

    “Please, refrain from expression of emotion. This is a courtroom, not a coffee shop.”

    “Foreman of the jury, please read the remaining…”

    A wooden chair flung backwards, crashing into the wood-lined half wall behind him.

    “I object to this ridiculous clown show!” The voice came from the defendant, his face red, his tone venomous. “I am a respected member of the community. This is unjust… all of this is untrue.”

    “I do not accept this verdict.”

    The judged glared at the defendant.

    “Dr. Cross, you have been held in contempt once and warned multiple times. This is the last time you interrupt the court proceedings. Bailiff restrain the Defendant.”

    The judge banged the gavel. “Please escort the jury from the courtroom. Take him into custody now.”

    The jury was carefully guided through an exit.

    Cross, a diminutive figure in a large courtroom, glared at the bailiff. The approaching bailiff hesitated. Dr. Cross, despite his small stature, commanded every space without trying. Entering his space felt like a magic barrier.

    The only one with a stronger aura was the judge who pushed the bailiff forward.

    The officer attempted to restrain him but— was struck from behind. The bailiff stumbled sideways and released Cross.

    A tall, middle-aged man with a scarred face shoved the bailiff out of the way and attacked Cross.

    Court officers rushed into the room, grabbed and restrained the man. They pulled the two men from each other.

    “You deserve to die for what you did to my family!” Says the man. He spits. The officers throws the man to the ground.

    Cross wipes blood from his mouth. An officer restrains him. The attacker is restrained under several other officers.

    “This trial is postponed temporarily,” said the judge as he stood.

    “ Counsel— chambers now!”

    ————————/

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  • Teraphobia- Within the walls of hell stood heroes.

    A Speaker is a traveling storyteller, an ancient tradition brought back by a tragedy. An event disguised as an infection. That infection spread toppled the crippled US government but under the hood of the infection was a revolution. This was a bloodless coup. An explosion of a new population of humans. The new population split into three types Taur, Vampire, and Magicians.

    Eric Carson is a Speaker, quite accomplished and quite old now. At seventy-plus years old he travels less but he has more stories than all the other Speakers. He lives in the Northeast Territory which contains the former States of New York, New Jersey, and West to Wisconsin.

    Speaking at the Fox theater in downtown Detroit, Eric removes a heavy coat and adjusts a stool. He begins his story with a smile.

    “So happy to be in this grand theater. Certainly, a privilege to be invited to tell my story here. You recall the Creature Revolution started with a pigeon, brought back to life, then an explosion of creatures that overwhelmed the world order.
    This change caused fifty years of anarchy, authoritarianism, and finally peace.

    Human ethics has always ebbed and flowed. We do what we want but unpredictable tragedy turns up the dial. We are not all 100% human anymore. Human on the inside, Taur on the outside, or vampire. Some of us are magic and that’s always unpredictable.
    Wars and battles drag on for years in an attempt to establish a dominant species. Can we all agree we are now in a good place? Mostly?
    I was an alcoholic. I was angry. Drinking was an excuse to be angry.

    At the time I lived under bridges. I had no money so I stole to survive and drink. Every time I went out I risked exposure and local enforcement. I sat in a drunken stupor, one night. Nothing like a baseball bat in the gut to sober a man up. After the guards bloodied me up, to sober me up, they claimed.

    There was no drunk tank back then. All the “undesirables” were sent to the zoo. I’m sure you all have heard of zoos. Large walled cities they dumped the undead, criminals, and drunks into.

    They caught me under a bridge a few miles West of Central Containment Facility. West was home but I had lost my wife and daughter so barely a home. I was captured, shackled, and transported to the Central Containment Facility, or zoo as I like to call it. Men dressed in black pulled me from the car and chained me to a wall outside the zoo. I stood with a large diverse group of humans, no other creatures.
    A machine gun would go off every few minutes. Scared the crap out of me. Drunken ears were always so jumpy.
    Regarding the zoo, we all knew what was inside. We knew the guards didn’t have to care what happened to us. Escape would only prompt cruel beatings outside the wall. Inside the wall, the Resurrected would dispatch us in painful, brutal ways. The once human monsters were once thought a moment of scientific miracles. Death is avoided and a new life is given, they said. The Resurrected were nothing but unbridled rage.

    The guards were happy to count down the time as we prisoners waited. Anxiety drowning us. All those years ago, the kindest words… “the automatic guns gave us 500 feet before they would overwhelm us.”

    Those zoo walls towered over us. The guards unchained us and pushed us through the opening gate. I was near the center of the group as we approached. A pair of infected slipped out from the gates. They attacked the first prisoner, tearing clothes and violently pulling his head to the side. A second prisoner turned and ran. He was quickly captured by the guards. The gate was closed. Multiple additional guards rushed forward. They stabbed the Resurrected multiple times, which did little to stop them. The super strong Resurrected threw several guards. Gun fire erupted and the Resurrected fell to the ground but were not still. They shook and struggled where they fell. They wanted to move but physically were unable. Around the mound of disabled Resurrected was blood and bodies. Three guards lie motionless, their bodies broken. Two additional prisoners were dead. The distraction prompted a few prisoners to flee but they were captured, beaten, and pushed to the front. The guards opened the gate a second time and pushed us through.

    The machine guns above the wall fired a final time. Several hundred feet away some Resurrected collapsed to the ground. The noise prompted the attention of a group from the right. They moved forward en masse toward us. The guards, the wonderful human beings they were, began to fire in front of the group. Attempting to lead them to the prisoners faster.

    The mob of Resurrected approached. The guards increased their taunting. Tried what they could to move the inevitable faster. The nearest infected begin to growl as the scent of life came closer. They listened to slight movements. Shuffling feet, panicked breathing, screams. A funny thing about the group of men and women I was imprisoned with, the men were the screamers. The scream erupted suddenly. It scared the crap out of me. It split the group immediately. Half the group ran in all directions. The other half froze or tried to get back through the gate. That gate wasn’t going to move.
    The runners sprinted through a tall field of grass toward a paved road nearby. The Resurrected stood in small groups, within the grass. They were motionless, sleeping. waiting to tear us to pieces. Several runners sprinted past and into the grass ahead. I’ve never been athletic. My running lasted maybe 50-100 feet. After, I tried to just avoid the groups of Resurrected. I found a path beaten into the grass when two runners collapsed beside me. They stumbled and disappeared into the tall grasses. After the fall, I stopped and listened. I wish I hadn’t because the sound was horrific.

    “There was something in the grass. I can hear it grunting.” I remember saying. I also pointed this out to one of the Baker brothers behind me but we were all kinda paralyzed. The thought of death waiting to take you without you seeing it. There were monsters waiting for us in the grass and they could be anywhere. We couldn’t just run through the field now… but there was this path.

    “Follow the path,” said a voice from behind. “The Resurrected are easier to see within the path. You want to go that way and do it now.

    The man had been through some horrific things. The left side was covered in scars and the right a mask.
    “We call them Crawlers,” he added as he pushed us gently to the path. “They have broken or missing legs. They crawl through the grasses. They are very slow.”
    “Pale, sickly things. You don’t want to run into them or see them.”

    I lead the group. The brothers behind me then the masked man. Behind him was a gaggle of others following farther away. I approached the location when a young man sprinted past me and through the grass. Behind him was a Resurrected, thin but strong human monster, running after. Gawd, I didn’t even know they could run. The only advantage we runners had was that the Resurrected were blind. Cancerous tumors blocked their sight. The masked man turned and swept the monster off his feet. The creature hit the ground hard and tumbled into a Crawler. I saw its pale limbs and stretched unnatural jaw. To my absolute shock, it was a disabled vampire.

    I turned back to the runner but he had disappeared. The masked man urged us to move forward. The mob of remaining prisoners fell in behind the four of us.
    We approached a curved glass building, atop the glass was a sculpted wooden red slab. A second slab covered a large neglected parking lot. Beneath the second slab was a city bus. The bus lay, its tires deflated, across the bus carport. The masked man pointed us toward the bus, specifically the closed folded door.

    To the right, two large centaurs milled within the lot. Their human forms leaned forward, barely able to stay atop their equine host. Behind us was the Resurrected. The barely-human monsters targeted the stragglers in the human mob.
    The attacks sent the mob into a panic and they pushed forward and past us.

    The masked man pointed toward the bus. I noticed this was a school bus. Its rear tires had been shredded and it sat against the front door of the bus station. The entrance to the bus was closed.

    Knowing the noise from the mob would attract everything in the area I ran as fast as I could to that door. I slapped the center of the folding bus door, hoping it would open but it did not. I continued to bang on the door as the others in the group searched for a different entrance. I looked to the masked man for guidance but he had suddenly become as panicked as the rest of us. He fumbled through his pocket till he pulled out a radio.

    “Tweety, open the door, now!” He shouted into the radio.
    “Ai, Scotty… I’m on my way,” was the eventual reply.

    Infected approach from the rear and the human forms on the Resurrected Taur woke. The large human-horse creatures pawed at the grass-covered concrete. Both centaurs bolted toward a runner, that has passed in a panic. They gained on the poor woman as she screamed. I watched as the monsters plowed into the woman and she stumbled into a building wall. I remember being unable to move. Unable to help the woman at all and really wanting a drink.
    “Remember, they can’t see us,” the masked guide named Scotty said to me. “If you are quiet, you should survive if they surround us.”

    I turned to repeat this to the brothers, they had stuck very close, but they had disappeared. I looked back toward the woman and I see them trying to figure out how to fight the centaur to save the woman. The two men had thick beards and a suicidal attitude, my opinion- of course.
    I looked back at Scotty and he signaled I hit the door again so I did, only harder. The door stayed shut. I heard him curse under his breath.

    “Tweety, get this damn door open,” he shouted only to regret it when several Resurrected rushed us and shoved us into large piles of trash surrounding the bus.

    That masked man bounced to his feet like a rubber band. He ducked and swerved, finally planting a foot-long blade into the Resurrected’s head.

    I was not so lucky to know a damn thing, let alone karate. I wrestled with the brute. Trying to deflect blows and possibly forcing the thing to hurt itself. It grabbed my throat and squeezed. I felt my breath disappear. I gasp for what was no longer there. Any plans I had were gone. I fought with the energy I rarely had but with the lack of strength, I had always had.

    My arms went numb and I stopped fighting. I stared up at my attacker. It was a young fifteen-year-old female child gifted with upgraded strength, upgraded anger, and pale, lifeless eyes.

    I watched as the young child, so focused on my fall and collapsed after Scotty stabbed his large knife through her head. Painful memories of my own daughter lost years prior, reappeared. The resignation… the darkness returned with a gasp of air.

    Scotty pulled me to my feet. My head spun and I stumbled into the open bus door. I recovered and looked to move forward.

    I heard them before I saw them. The swearing and the gruff cackling as the Baker brothers approached and stepped inside the bus.

    That was until we saw a little girl standing in the chaos. She stood pipe straight and silent as Resurrected passed by to attack panicking adults.

    “I understand why we are here,” Sean Baker said to me. “Why is she her?”

    The only thing I could think of at the time was the girl refused to leave her family.

    “She must have lost her family,” I said and began to push past the two large men.

    “You are in no condition to fight these Resurrected,” Sean shot back and he was right. I had not fought anyone but myself in several years. I demonstrated my skill just a few minutes prior.

    “…but this girl can’t die.” I protested. “We have to save her.”

    “Listen, man” Sean replied. “You ain’t saving anyone. Leave the saving to the Baker boys and Phantom of the Opera masked man out there.

    The Baker brothers, Sean followed by Andrew stepped from the bus, past Scotty, and into the mess of panic and monsters.

    They dodged and weaved through the crowd of Resurrected, careful to avoid many of the survivors who were increasingly unpredictable. Without their sight, the Resurrected relied on their hearing but with the mass of bodies and screams, I imagine it was hard for them to pinpoint anyone individually. They would attack en mass any loud noise, which prompted an idea. The rear of the bus was shoved inside the bus station and served as a door into the shelter. I ran from the door through the back of the bus and into the station.

    I ran to the far end of the station nearest the mob. There was a glass door, locked. I jerked the door closed in an attempt to make a noise. That only worked to catch the attention of the nearest Resurrected. It didn’t clear any from the survivors. I banged upon the glass of the station all along the side. I managed to distract a half dozen. I went back to the door. Three angry men slapped the door with their malnourished hands. They attempted to pull the door open but it was chained thoroughly. I screamed profanities as loudly as I could to try to draw more and it was moderately successful but I wasn’t thrilled with my attempts at heroism. I pulled a couple more but I watched as several more survivors fell and the young girl had disappeared from the silent island she had successfully created within the center of the mob.

    Andrew and Sean Baker continued to navigate through the crowd, attempting to find this young woman. They pointed to the remaining survivors that would listen to the bus door.

    I continued my mostly fruitless distraction to pull away 50-some angry, vengeful Resurrected and I continued to pull only the closest.

    A door opened behind me and a quartet of guards, dressed in the same armor as the ones outside the fence, rushed from the door. Within the hands of the lead, the guard was a crude cassette and radio. This radio played a symphony of screams as loud as I had ever heard. The guards rushed past me and shoved the radio into the crack in the doorway. The noise drew a least the crowd of Resurrected to the glass walls of the bus station. I admit in the end it wasn’t the greatest idea after they began to shake the entire building.

    I ran back to the bus, climbed inside, and to the bus door. Scotty, his mask gone and his face monstrously scarred stood at the door. A pair of women and a man sit on the seats of the bus. I recommended, with some choice words, that they move from the bus to the station and they obliged. I stepped out of the bus door to see the brothers, bleeding and bruised walking toward me with the young lady. Behind them the remaining two survivors. Five survivors and I stepped onto the bus and the driver closed the sliding door.

  • The Coyote part 3 – wip

    “So what do you think, Tommy?” Mary said.

    “Hmm… sounds fun,” Tommy began. “…but really… what do we know.”

    “Well,” Mary began as she poured Tommy a glass of whiskey. “As you already said to Mr. Carson, he is part of the Carson…

    “What do we know of the New World Group?” Tommy asked he downed the shot of whiskey and placed the glass next to the bottle.

    Mary opens a laptop covered in stickers. She searches then says, “per the Network search, looks like New World Group runs several financial companies for a large part of the new Commonwealth. They are based in the New York territory.”

    “Of course the New York territory most big companies still work out of the remains of New York City. What does the Network know of this Petty?”

    “Well, without the ability to communicate through the internet anymore I will have to ask and wait for that to come back.”

    “Charlie?”

    “Charlie,” Mary repeated then paused. “I can dig up information on Charlie. Sounds like he is inside. The Network will be able to find something. Give me an hour. Do you need the usual crew for this job?”

    Mary smiled.

    “Yes, Mary. You are a superstar. Can I get a refill?” He asked holding the empty glass of whiskey.

    “No,” Mary shot back. Her smile disappeared. “I should not of given you a glass of it. Severe lack of judgment on my part.”

    Tommy frowned but didn’t protest. “Thank you Mary you’re still a star.” He finished his meal and turned toward the large plate-glass windows within the front of the restaurant. Mary disappeared into the kitchen.

    Outside, decrepit sky-scrapers crept into view to his left. Out front and a half mile away was the city wall protecting the residents of the mid-western territory of Gregory. Between the wall and Tommy was a flat plot of tall grass and trees that struck him as odd because of its proximity to the tall office buildings. Tommy took a seat near the front window. A leathery hand scratched at the bottom of the window and caught Tommy’s attention for a moment. The owner of the hand had found itself in front of the window years ago but was too malnourished to be of any threat. Most of the zombie had suffered the same fate. Disabled and doing a better job as plant food then a threat to humans.

    They were not harmless. They have killed a fair amount of human prey. Mostly the new prisoners the do not know where to go. The zombie can still pack a punch. Even in their weakened state.

    “I should find the 9-iron some day,” he says out loud. The thought appearing suddenly.

    “You can’t hit worth shit, Tommy,” says a familiar voice coming from the back of the restaurant.

    “Sean!” Tommy replied with a smile. “Been waiting”

  • Michael and Jacob – Plywood derby

    “Do vampires have feelings? Asking for a friend.” Narrator

    Michael’s head began to swim then a wave of nausea struck. He heaved and this was followed by a second. His throat screamed as nothing came up. Michael looked down to notice blood on the ground when his body seized and he fell to his side.

    Michael woke up strapped to a piece of plywood. The plywood was canted upward and he was moving backward. Michael could see someone above him. A monstrously tall man with a large backpack under a black trench coat. To the right Michael noticed Jacob strapped to a second piece of plywood. Thick leather straps held him securely as his sneakers dragged over the asphalt.

    Michael looked himself over and found a large, bandage wrapped around his waste. A large red stain near his wound and a second near his chest. His boots dragging the ground. Behind him was a mob of zombies. Michael began to get a better sense of his surrounding as he continued to wake. The houses had begun to get bigger as he realized they had left his previous street and were now moving toward the center of the city.

    “What is this?” He thought. “Broadway? Richie riches used to live here. Now they are all dead or fled to the North. The monster do not like the cold up there. Leave us poor folk to lie and steal and spend eternity in the City of Monsters. Frick’n backwoods justice from here to Buffalo. If that city still exists…”

    Michael’s driver suddenly dropped him with a thud and he complained. He watched as the zombies approached. To the left was a large gate. The tall man was struggling to close. To the right was a small army. They fired and Michael’s ears rang. A row of zombie lay motionless. The tall man strained to pull the heavy gate further till a zombie approached and attempted to surprise him.

    “Holy crap,” Jacob said as the tall man grasp the zombie and bit into its rotten flesh. The man didn’t chew but seemed to suck from the zombie victim. He then tossed it away, shook and pulled the gate closed like it was a thin sheet of paper. He turned to Jacob and Michael, his face covered in gore.

    “Come on, no! This is not happening,” Michael began. “I understand the zombie apocalypse and all and the shit show my brother and I started by stealing from the Governor. I get that the punishment was life behind the walls of the city for me and my family. All that sucks and now my family is dead but this is not going to happen. I’m done. I am not staying here strapped to a wooden barbecue plate waiting to be sucked dry.”

    “Michael.”

    “No Jacob. This is the end for me. I’m not being left a husk of skin and bones.” Michael struggled to free himself but was barely able to move.

    “I understand,” said the tall man as he grabbed a towel from a go bag and cleaned up his face. “I should of introduced myself.” He said.

    “John Peterson and I am a vampire.”

  • Jacob and Michael – The escape – part one

    “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. He fought back and more of the clothing tumbled in all directions. 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. The zombie stepped forward and screamed. A guttural noise full of anger. Jacob felt hopeless as the creature lunged forward. It’s 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 the clothing he stood behind into the zombie. He pushed the creature off its feet and it tumbled backward. Jacob grabbed the closet door and closed it.

  • Jacob and Michael – Fist-d-Cuff

    Your not going to win an Oscar for best Action scene punching a zombie. In fact it’s the most uncomfortable feeling as solid mass meets gelatin.

    Narrator

    Michael swung first. He struck the zombie in the temple. The zombie stared forward, as the right side of its head collapsed. The bone under the rotten flesh stopped Michael’s blow. 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 it’s body forward. It’s rubbery arms flailed. The bones shattered from the first attempt with the bat. Jacob and the zombie collided. The zombie’s head snapped forward. It’s right eye hid behind its boney socket. It’s 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 right ear drum. 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 slowly lifted the body and moved it. “Jacob! Shut the hell up.” Michael said in a forced whisper. “There are more and your going to bring them all in.”

    “I’m done Michael!” Jacob replied a little more carefully. “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, boy. We do not have time for this.”

    Jacob shoved Michael’s hands away but his knees sank. Michael grabbed Jacob before he fell. “Jacob, 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. A third set of footsteps.

    “The closet…”

  • Teraphobia- The Harkin

    Teraphobia- The Harkin

    Featured Story

    The Western Territory of Teraphobia is the largest territory. It’s populated with the largest creatures. Despite the persistent danger the Western Territory remains the closest to well adjusted after the invasion.

    The warm water from the shower massaged Tracy’s back.  The steam from the heat of the liquid filled the room but left the view within the small bathroom window.  Tracy reached for the shampoo when she saw a frightening shadow passing in front of a the church next to the house.  The creature had tall, thin legs.  It’s keratin-covered abdomen stood six foot over the asphalt.

    Tracy, unconsciously, reached for the window shelf and knocked over a bottle of shampoo.  The noise started her and she screamed.

    Tracy took in a sudden breath and held her mouth as the insect-like creature stepped from the shadow or the church.

    Tracy scooped the shower curtain to the right and stuck her head out.

    “Darrin!  There is a Harkin outside.  What are we going to do?”

    She could hear someone moving around, outside the bathroom door.  The thought, quick and terrifying, of an invasion within the house swam within her head.

    “What did you say?”  Darrin replied.

    “There is one of those Harkin bugs outside.  Where are the kids?”

    Tracy could hear her husband search the room next door.  Items fell to the ground.  He cursed, as whatever he was looking for, eluded him.

    “Darrin!  The crossbow is on the shelf next to the AR-14.”

    “Why did you move it,” came the reply.

    “Just get it.  The Harkin just stopped at our driveway.  Where are the children!”

    The horror of the situation suddenly got worse when Tracy heard her middle child scream.  The Harkin stuttered movements proved that it was surprised by the sudden noise.  It turned its arrow-shaped head to the right and began to step forward.  The driveway was covered in stones.  The Harkin struggled to stand upon the stones.  It’s thin legs pausing and stepping carefully.

    The back door slammed shut several times and  Tracy could hear the children talking.  She sighed till she saw her husband step past the window.

    Darrin was dressed in ratty shorts and a white t-shirt.  He loaded a bolt and pointed the crossbow at the Harkin.  Tracy banged on the glass.

    “You have to shoot it between the head and abs?”

    The Harkin turned toward the noise.  Darren grimaced but dutifully grinned then waved.

    Tracy watched as her husband began to approach the insect.  She banged on the shower window again as he approached.  This noise distracted the Harkin but also her husband.

    She opened the small window and waved. Darrin grumbled and refocused on the Harkin.  Tracy watched as he held the crossbow to his shoulder and zeroed in on the soft section between the plates of keratin.

    He fired but the bolt  bounced off the insects armor.  It did attract attention and the Harkin turned toward him.  Her husband skipped toward the back of the creature.  Tracy suddenly noticed he had no shoes on.

    “What an idiot,” she thought as he avoided being seen.

    She banged on the windows again drawing attention back to her.  The Harkin began to approach the house.  The grass beside the driveway would make it easier to move.

    “Darrin, you have to keep it out of the grass.”

    Her husband approached the large insect.  He was crouched and moving carefully.  The crossbow trained on the target.  The bolt flew from the weapon and struck the creature.  It didn’t scream, as you would expect, but it sighed and sank.  It’s abdomen stood three feet from the ground as Darrin loaded another bolt.  The creature began to struggle as the poison in the bolt began to work.  It was unable to free the bolt from beneath the armor.  It swung its right-front legs near the wound.  Darrin got closer and fired a second bolt into the creature.  The Harkin retched.  It tried to reach out and tear into its attacker but the poison infected it’s blood.  It’s energy level dropped every second as it was starting to die.

    Tracy suddenly heard the door open and close and knew the children had left the house to check out the creature.  She took a final look at the creature.  It sat upon the green grass beside the house.  Darrin, motioned to the children to stay away.  She then stepped from the shower, grabbed a towel and got dressed.

  • Yanfis – Darkness series

    The small brick and mortar building in Yanfis withstood a downpour as the rain fell hard.  Dontarious covered his face as Angel disappeared into a small building.  He followed.

    The rain was a dim fraction of the noise within this room.  It was full of creatures Dontarious could name from fantasy and mythology.  He saw a couple elves.  The ears extending over their bald, round heads, as they stood at a counter.  A long counter sat on the end of a spacious room.  On top of the counter were stacked glasses.  Behind the counter were several shelves containing glass bottles.  Behind the bar was a strange, snake-like creature that hissed when it spoke.  This creature, green and full of scales, had a pair of human arms and hands and a human-isk face.

    “Are you going to move,” someone shouted.  Dontarious turned to see the pale face and extended canines of a vampire.  The quintessential bad guy in any action fantasy he had seen once when he was still on Earth proper.

    “You can’t stand in front of the door.  Human, you’re lucky I like this place and have to be invited or you would be a crumpled mass of skin and bone by now.

    Dontarious stepped back and looked for Angel.  He found him, with his wings behind his back and pushing through the crowd of noise.  Near the left side of the room several other harpies stood talking.

    “He is the only guide I have to this world,” Dontarious told himself and pushed through the crowd of colorful creatures.

    “Ah, here he is!”  Angel shouted as Dontarious approached.

    “You are hanging with a human, Angel… disgusting,” this harpy wore a Cincinnati Reds baseball can over platinum blond hair.  He looked to be nineteen years old or younger.  His wings were smaller than the rest.

    “Angel, we don’t want him around here.”

    “Wait,” Angel said addressing the largest of the harpies.  An older looking birdman with greying hair and skin folded under his eyes.  “Christoff, the human can help us with the operation.  If you hear what I’m saying.”

    The older harpie stood.  He flexed his wings and shook his head violently.  “How can this small human help us?”

    Angel had an answer prepared, “he hopped the Spirit of the Dead from the world above.”

    The harpies all gasp at the same time.

  • A to Z Chupacabra

    A woman stood, surrounded by clouds brushed around her thin features.  Her skin was fair and her eyes were brown.  A beautiful woman, but underneath the woman struggled with mental illness.  Oscar managed to survive the shouts and insanity by distracting his mother by talking about the chupacabra.  His mother, Olivia, was fearful of the mythical beast.  Whether that fear was warranted didn’t matter to Oscar because it deflected the symptoms for  moments.

    Those moments became shorter and shorter as Oscar became older but this dream drilled down to his younger years.  His mother sat.  The chupacabra sat at her side staring forward, uninterested.

    “Oscar, sit,” she instructed.  Olivia stretched out her hand and Oscar took it.  She lead him over to the dog-like creature and it stared up at him.  Oscar backed away and sat at his mother’s feet.

    “This is Diablo, do you like him?”  Olivia said with a smile.

    “Mother,” Oscar said quietly as the creature studied him.  “This is the monster that frightens you so much. Why do you call it your pet?”

    Olivia laughed and Diablo seemed to smile.  The chupacabra’s nose was long.  It’s  head was stretched and thin and it’s skin looked like it had been baked and prepared by a taxidermist.  Oscar turned his head to the right and tried to measure the danger of this strange mid-sized animal. Diablo mirrored Oscar and growled just enough to reveal a thin pointed tooth, longer than the others.  The remainder of it’s teeth were stained with blood.

    “Please mother,” Oscar pleaded but she only laughed.

    “My boy, there is nothing to worry about…”

    A flash of light overwhelmed the dream and Oscar gasp.  Oxygen seared the inside of his throat.  The world filled with noise as Gabriel Van Cleese revived the officer and stared at the creature growling back at him from where his partner stood.

    The long face, pointed teeth, and brown tanned hide grumbled as it walked slowly to the right.

    “NOW stop!”  Gabriel ordered, but the animal continued to search for a clear path to the medic.

    “Jeremy!”  He screamed to the driver as the ambulance jerked, forcing him to brace himself.

    “We are almost there Gabriel hold on.”

    “How the hell are we going to kill a sharp-toothed dog that used to be a paramedic.  You need to tell me this?”

    “I don’t know Gabriel but we have to do something.”

  • A-Z -The Blob – Part 2

     

    “Yes, yes I know I’m busting our budget but we have a monster epidemic going on.  I need to hire more investigators.”  Brian Tipene explains as he sits with his feet upon a small desk.

    “No, we are the only investigators right now.”  A small brunette woman walks into the room.  Her face hangs as tears fall from the corners of her eyes.  Brian’s gut sinks before he excuses himself from the phone call.

    “Susan, what’s going on?”

    Susan brushes the tears from her face and struggles to talk.

    “Please, don’t tell me something happened to Alan.”

    Susan stumbles.  Brian struggles to move from behind his desk but catches her before she falls.

    “My god, this is not good.  What happened to him?”

    After some time Susan explains that Alan was involved in a chemical accident within his truck.  She relayed that he was stripped to the bone.

    Brian swallowed hard.  He was responsible for the death of his brother-in-law now what was he going to do?

    Brian helped Susan, called her family, then sat within his small sportscar.  “I have to check out the scene,”  he thought to himself.  “He told me he picked up an odd box.”  Guilt washed over him as he started the car but he couldn’t drive forward.

    “I have six agents now.  They are all family and friends.  What have I got myself into…”

    “…Brian?”  A CB radio installed under the dash broke the thought.  “I just heard about Alan.  What are we going to do?”

    Brian picked up the CB receiver and replied.  “Tom, we are going to figure out what happened.  What do you know?”

    Tom explained the details of the accident.  He explained the chaos when the firefighters opened the door of the truck.

    “They said a green goo fell from the truck.  They talked about bringing in the FBI but apparently they got impatient and opened the door.  The blob of green goo then chased off the rescuers.”

    “Are you serious?”

    “Yes, that’s what I heard. What are we going to do?”

    Brian snapped out of self-reflection and back into work.

    “We are going to figure out what this is and defeat it.  That’s what we do.”  Brian pulled from the driveway of his small home and headed toward the accident scene.