Stories

[Paranoid Ecstasy]

Lately I have been writing short stories some decent some not so decent.
If anyone want to critque them, please do. Along with short stories I am working on a very long one, which I hope turn in to a book. Feel free to share any stories you've written, I'd love to read them.

This first short story is titled Bare the Burden

I slowly crept around the corner just enough to see into the room.
My prior thoughts were confirmed it was "him".
How could she, after five years of being together?
Was I not good enough, or is she just a fucking whore?
To make it worse it was with him, the one friend I trust with my life.
Those fuckers! I started to inch into the room I knew what I was gonna do. They'll have to pay. That whore and Benedict Arnold wouldn't have heard me even if I had given them a warning shot.
With every moan my anger grew. I stood there with one tear in my eye. I decided I would wait, wait for them to finish. I wanted them to see me.
I needed to see the fear in their eyes, as they stare at me, their unmerciful angel of death.
They started to orgasm. The thought of how she would clench my hair as she climaxed sent a tear down my face.
The anger, the hate, the pain it was unbearable. It felt as if there was an empty black hole where my heart once was.
It was too much. I saw his head move foward, they were about to kiss.
I cocked the revolver.
I could hear their lips touch.
I aimed the gun.
They started to get more passionate.
I pulled the trigger.
My body fell to the floor, they were left to bare the burdern.
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This next short story is titled Emily

I noticed there was something wrong with Emily today. The young giddy little girl who once brought a smile to my face seemed empty and lifeless. I asked her what was wrong. No reply. I started to become sad myself. Why was this amazing little girl so horrified. As I looked into her eyes I saw her cringe from pain. I begged her to tell me what was wrong. She was so scared that she wasn't even crying, she just sat there shaking. I saw her shoulder twitch, was she hurt? When I raised her sleeve I started to sob when I saw she was covered in cuts and bruises. I asked her who did it. She still wouldn't answer me. I became aggravated and started to yell, "Who the fuck did this?". I asked was it your mom? Your brother? Your father? She cringed again and started to sob. That "Fucking drunk asshole!". I started to pace around muttering the worst profanities. I grabbed my buck knife before bolting out the door. She only lived a few houses down. When I reached her house I ran up to the door, kicking in a hole by the handle. I unlocked the door and kindly let myself in. That ignorant maggot was laying on the couch with a bottle of Whiskey in hand. I walked directly infront of the T.V., took his whiskey and hurled it against the wall. When he saw his only happiness in his life shatter on the wall, he quickly staggered trying to stand up. "Whatsa matter wit ya boy? I outta take you out back and..." was all he said before I interrupted him. "Shut the fuck up, you worthless shit! Did you hurt her?", I asked furiously. "Hurt who boy?" "Emily you moron! If you hurt her I swear to God..." He quickly interrupted with a smirky "Swear to God what? You aint gonna do shit, your a failure just like your faggot father. You can't do shit." I took that hillbilly scum by the shirt of his neck and slammed his face with a haymaker to the nose. Then I asked again "So now, did you hurt her?" He replied with a laugh. "What's so fucking funny "boy", is it funny to hurt your 5 year old daughter?" He just kept laughing as blood trickled down from his nose. I clenched my fist in anger and disgust. "Yeah that bitch broke a lamp today, so I broke her little arm." I couldn't believe what he just said. How could he be so cruel to his own blood? "After that I took my naughty little girl and made that skank suck on Daddy's lolipop. After I blew my load in her curly little blonde hair, I fucked that little tiny cunt till she cried." Everything started to flash red and the next thing I know my buck knife is penetrating his neck over and over. The more he gasped the bigger my smile grew. "Now YOU know what it feels like to be raped by a bigger man" As I said that I remembered I had left Emily home alone. "FUCK!" I left that drunk on the floor in a puddle of blood and whiskey. As I was rushing home I was hoping that she was ok, will I need to take to the hospital I thought. "I can't believe he would hurt her", I muttered to myself. "Shit!" When I got home I noticed in the midst of my anger I left my front door open. "Emily?",I called through out the house. There was no answer. I started to panic. Where the hell could she have gone? I hurried outside hoping she hadn't gone to far. The first thing I notice is a crowd of people at the stop sign huddle around a car. What were they all looking at? I shoved myself to the front only to see that beautiful little blonde girl laying on the ground dead.

[jrly]

Heres one I wrote. Very different from yours though Paranoid. Kinda long too.

Jamais Vu
I am the thing they fear. I am the monster they created to protect themselves. But they are a different they, only I don’t know that yet. I was created to destroy, to save the people, but only for them, only I don’t know this yet. I was created to create stability, but not for the people, only I haven’t been told this yet. I am the thing they fear.
My claws sink into the damp earth. Silently, I pad towards my prey. Watching, always watching. They think they are so clever and observant, they think they are the ones who are invisible, but they are wrong. I am the one who can go anywhere without anyone else’s knowledge. I am like the darkness, creeping into every dark crevice, only the most observant can see me move. They think they are safe. Rarely does anyone venture into my territory to hunt, to try and survive in their own hell. Or is it actually every day that they come to hunt and I am only confused?
The fear is amazing. They are fearful of me but don’t know it. I can taste it. They know there is something they should fear but don’t know what it is. I can smell it. Except something feels strange. I can even hear it. It always feels strange.
These human hunters always say concentrate on the prey, ignore everything else, only the hunt, only the prey. But that is of no consequence to me. I can walk in front of these fools and they are oblivious that they are prey, not the hunters. They know they are afraid when I am near, but not of what. Humans are the most foolish creatures, even when their most basic instincts tell them to flee, they ignore them. Even though the animals don’t know that I am here, they know enough to run and hide. For some reason humans always seem to be oblivious, no matter who is in front of them or what they are doing.
The hunt used to exhilarate me. I used to stalk them for hours, only watching and contemplating the angles, where to spring my attack, but it no longer gives me pleasure. Maybe I am evolving, maybe I will no longer have the urge to kill these men. Now, after so long, they only come in small groups of two or three. Wait that isn’t right, they have always come in this size groups. Why did I think the groups were larger? When did I actually enjoy the kill? Is this an illusion? They are afraid, but they don’t know it.
I feel like it is everyday that I come here and slaughter these fools. The same fools. How? Something always feels strange because I feel that I must have done this a thousand times, but it always feels the like the first and the last. It always feels strange.
I stomp towards the pair and still they are unaware. Amazing how these humans survived all these centuries with such horrible sense, so amazing that such weak species has somehow become the dominant species on this planet. Somehow have survived to mate and spread like a disease across the world. I am ten paces away and still I am invisible. Except… one of them… he knows… he sees me… how?
Finally, he turns and stares at my golden cat slit eyes. Amazing. After so many ambushes-or is it just one-finally one these imbeciles creatures is aware. I smile. I am no longer invisible. This pleases me, maybe I can enjoy this hunt. But do I really enjoy it?
I clench the muscles in my legs and leap. I land on the hunter who is unaware, and I rip his head from his puny shoulders. Blood everywhere. I feel that I have killed this man a thousand times. My already matted, bloody fur is once again wet and so very sweet. I drop the head and it rolls away from me. I turn towards this unique human, this man who has piqued my interest. So unusual. Staring at this man I feel something. I feel what I have always inspired. It is beautiful, something new, anything new. Have I ever experienced something new? Ever?
His golden eyes sear through me. The stubble on his head and face makes him seem so… so very strange from all the others. Or is it just one other. I look over at the head. It feels so strange. He is still staring at me. At my eight foot stature, closer ten if I stand upright, but I feel more imposing crouched with my hands dragging the ground with my claws gouging the earth.
Do you know why I am here? Do you know who I am? He asks softly. His voice soothes me and angers me at the same time. Why does his voice cause such diverse emotions? Have I ever heard anything other the screams of the people-person?- I have killed? I can only stare at him. Do you know why you are here, he continues on. He can sense what is happening inside of me. Why don’t I kill him? Launch my body at him and snap his neck and rip it from his body and bath in the blood? Why can I only stand here?
Finally, I manage to open my muzzle and a low snarl emits from my throat and exits through my yellow canines. Still, he only stands there. This is so unfamiliar. There is no fear. Why is there no fear? Images bombard my mind. Repetition. Do you know where you come from beast? Still standing there, unmoving, staring into my golden eyes. His eyes are so much like mine. I feel a shiver enter my body. Why do I fear his eyes? I feel pain. Memories. Writhing in agony. Anger. Losing myself. I am here to end this cycle, he says. This cycle of fear. They are controlling you. They are controlling everyone. You are only a pawn. His voice is still low and he speaks with an accent, this sparks recognition in my mind. If only I knew where it comes from, it might help. From the north, Scandinavia, somewhere. How do I know this?
You were created to spawn fear in the people. You were created to control the people. Finally I begin to regain the ability to move. I begin to circle this man. I begin to make him the prey again, but still I feel this emotion in my body. Controlling me. Debilitating me. Every day they come to this forest and disappear, causing fear in the cities. Fear of the unknown. Causing people to fear to leave their homes. No one knows what you are. I point my head at the sky and scream. The memories are real. They are hurting me. Physically. Mentally. Destroying my body. He continues on, once a year you come to the towns and cities and kill someone, but it is random. Never the same time or place. Across the entirety of the region. I can see them torturing me. Forcing me to change. Forcing me to forget. What is this?
Again I meet his eyes, he can see and understand the pain. Somehow. The crime rate has dropped in the cities. There is no war. Everyone is afraid to be blamed for these deaths. For the destruction. But no one ever really dies. For months it went on. Every imaginable torture and too many unimaginable ones. They made me become this. It is really a setup. The body is animated with electronics. Recently dead, but recent enough no one can tell. If people speak out that something needs to be done, more deaths in that city. More memories. What am I? Am I some sort of mutation? The people live in fear. The only way the government can survive. Promise protection. If the cities pay their taxes then few if any killings, but if they don’t, then there are actual deaths, not setups.
This cannot be real. This is some sort of dream. Why I am this forest? Why am I always in this forest? Who is this man with the golden eyes? This man who is unafraid? This man who stands here in defiance of everything that I am? Why am I the one who is afraid? Why have I not killed him and bathed in his blood?
This has to end, he says. For too long we have terrorized the people of this world. I have always brought you to this forest to try and make you more self-aware, to make you realize something is wrong. But the repetition hasn’t worked. Finally it has become necessary to end this. People have begun to speak out. More death. It cannot be tolerated for so many to die. This is only the way.
Finally I am able to speak. Who are you? He smiles the sad smile of the condemned. Have you not realized? I am the tiniest speck of your humanity. I don’t know how you have held on to me, but somehow you have. This must end.
And this is the only way. He reaches behind his back and I lunge. I move in slow motion and he moves with grace and beauty. I cannot understand why I fight back. I can remember everything now. But the fear. The power. It has become an addiction. But my humanity will save me, despite the fact that I am trying to kill him. He easily pulls the Kalashnikov from behind his back and expertly shoots the entire clip into my chest and face and I drop. And one more memory emerges. The memory that I volunteered for this. To inspire fear. Why? I am sorry, he says, this must end, for both of us, for all of us.

[DemonSpawn]

i wrote this while i was tripping acid and i recently found it on the inside cover of one of my favorite books scrawled in barely legible blue ink. I have typed it up and corrected the spelling but the words and punctuation (it is punctuated, althogh sparcely so) are all the same. the story is pretty coherent until the end where it is purely the acid talking , although it is not literature i enjoyed reading it (this is possibly because it is a legitimate memory for me)and i hope you do too:

In the middle of a hurricane 3 men all between 5’6” and 5’9” began to see the error of their ways. The blood on their clothes was beginning to fade but that was the only thing fading sadly. About fifteen hours earlier there are two women sitting on the third story of an eighty four story building trying to explain to their mother that she is not in fact the true lord of the dance and failing miserably thus forced to watch the flailing movements and incoherent mumbling of retirement home karaoke. Two hours later a man in gym shorts and a Jethro Tull t-shirt proceeded to enter the insurance firm of Crosby Elway and Johnston so as to make contact with his life insurance agent after finding out he had a malign tumor in his right eye he was not picking up the phone. The agent was quite ironically dead in his office at that very moment listening to the man shouting a him from the lobby on his cellular phone. Six hours later the janitor entered the agents office to find a stack of paper very neatly piled on the floor a broken vase and a headless man in a tacky suit. 4 hours later this being 13 hours after she had originally arrived at her mothers home one of the women who was wishing death upon her elderly mother received a call from NYPD requiring her to be present at the insurance firm of Crosby Elway and Johnston in 15 minutes this firm was in fact 25 minutes away so the woman got up looked at her mother and ran from the building. 25 minutes later the woman arrived her name is karen she is on crutches she apologizes for her lateness klak klak 35 minutes later following a blood trail karen reaches the home of the third man then the rain began gail force winds and drops like cinderblocks enters the building finds only more blood and cats lots of cats. I am the great cartographer two shoes three feet no space to move cars not room to find the cats too many people in the way of the turkey bowl. no more children in the light bulb ponder the existence without bricks why is there not people to see why no one is in my house glass broken only two feet blood blood blood…

[ilovetoblowthingsup]

Nice stories guys! Keep it up! Especially you Paranoid.

[The Guru]

I got one

There she was......
The most beautiful thing you ever saw.

(use your imagination)

Hey good stories to the both of you, except for the last guy. To much story jumping for my taste. But pretty good for an acid trip. Uh first guy. Beautiful descriptions, but really dark, i mean i like it, but others might not, keep up the writing though

If i could spell or describe things with words i would aww you with my own portrait of them

[Bahr]

Before I start im saying this is a made up story and im just using mine and my buddies name in it.

It was one in the morning and raining when me and my buddy alex were coming back from a fishing trip when we saw a young and very pale boy standing beside the road. I told Alex I was going to pull over and pick up the poor kid standing in the rain and Alex said No ive seen this in plenty of movies something bad is going to happen. but I insisted and he said all right get em them. I pulled over and called out the window Hey buddy you need a ride. He nodded and got in the back seat. I pulled away we asked him how old he was and why he was standing beside the road when it was raining but he said nothing. Alex whisperd to me I know whats going to happen next he's going to tell us the bridge is out and to take a different route. A few minutes later the kid said the bridge on beaverham road in flooded you might want to go a different way. I looked at alex and his hair was standing up but he said it may just be a Coincidence just go another way. So I turned the car down a different road. After a while Alex said I need to talk to you pull over. So I puller on the side of the road and we got out in to the drizzling rain and Alex said this is creeping me out im just going to walk. As soon as he said that we heard a loud long scream and Alex said I dont know about you but Im getting back in the car. We jumped back in and looked in the back seat, the boy was gone I floored it sending out two rooster tail from the back wheels and drove to town and we went into the local bar. The bar tender said to us Ya'll look like ya'll just seen a gost and I said Two shots of the strongest stuff you have I dont know what Alex wants. And and old man sitting in the bar said Tell us what happened and we told the whole story. The old man gave us a long look and said. Seems like ya'll met the jonstons boy, he drove his car into the river a few years back on a night like this. I said. Did he d-drown? The old man looked up and said. Drown, heck no thats what gave him the idea of standing beside the road on rainy nights and scaring the heck out of stupid fishermen like ya'll. The whole bar started laughing then the old man said. You know what the worst part is? there is no bridge on beverham road. We left amogst gales of laughter. When we got in the car Alex said well if he wasent real then why aint the seat wet? I replied. Well if he wasent real where are our tackle boxes? Now we ride that road on rainy nights looking for a pale young buy with two dark green tackle boxes.