The Official Creepy Story Thread!

Sorry about this one being so late! I haven't been well today :( I dedicate this story to my gf, Chie, who has always had a fascination with the mythos of death and his many incarnations, most well known in America and Europe as the grim reaper :) Enjoy, and as always, leave comments!

[blockquote]Harvestmen By Kadath Bird; dedicated to Chie Sakaguchi
Life. The Earth is filled with life. The Earth is life. The Earth sustains us, the Earth maintains us, plants and trees and animals, we all need each other to survive. But humans see life as an inescapable circle. They couple, they mate, they give birth, they work, they fight, and eventually they die. But their view of this inescapable circle leads them to believe that the only way life can go on is to reproduce. And so, the Earth was filled with humans. Animals were slaughtered, trees and plants were burned, all to make place for humans. And then the Earth had no more room.

And then the harvestmen came. The harvestmen came to reap human life from our Earth, and then sow the seeds of new life, to start anew. But the humans were always a stubborn creature. Although they cringed in fear when the visage of their loved ones, appeared in cloaks, dripping blood from their mouths and open sores and wounds on their rotted flesh, beckoning them to the afterlife before true life at the age of 20, they still fought back. They fought with guns, severing the weak flesh of the harvestmen, but the harvestmen grew smart, killing the children early and exploiting the maternal fears of the humans. The humans grew weak in mourning, and then the great harvest went underway.

Heaven was not open to the humans, not anymore. The humans grew tired of fighting, and decided to hide, tunneling underground and living in submarines and even in space. Ever human who died did not go to heaven, for their sins and insubordination, they were sent back as harvestmen, the ultimate hell to kill their loved ones, tearing out their hearts and their souls and devouring them, and then finally handing the soulless creatures a blade and a cloak. And as the human population dwindled, the harvestmen grew in numbers, until the humans were extinct. Every human who had lived, had now become a harvestmen, and now the Earth was once again overpopulated, the problem was not solved at all.

And Gaia weeped, for it's plants never grew again, it's animals never bred again, the harvestmen had no room to sew the seeds of nature. The undead and the soulless walked the Earth for an eternity, realizing that their endless circle had ultimately created an endless hell.[/blockquote.]
 
I may consider it. :D In fact, this isn't related but I actually am writing a novel[la] right now that's a both a tribute and evolution of the zombie genre. It's a tribute in it's 'basic' plotline, events, and characters, but where it gets quite complex are the monsters themselves, I'm writing a whole entire biology on each species even to keep them consistent and detailed. If you wanna know more, You can PM me sometime, as for the most part I'm still gathering some ideas before the first drafts.

Here is a new story. It's based on true events that have happened to my family, on my fathers side. I don't really need to go into a family history, but he has a lot of kids that are only half blood relationship because he has been divorced from my mother most of my life. That's all you guys really need to know.

Just a little background information that I had a hard time fully squeezing out in the story: It is called 'vortex' because my father believes that the canyon area is a vortex, a 'vortex' is a spot where the laws of time, gravity, physics and nature do not apply. Often times, when a vortex is discovered, people make money off of them by bringing people in as tourist attractions. They are often called 'mystery spots,' appropriately as well, as no one knows what causes them. (In one of my favourite PC games of all time, Sam & Max hit the road, they discover that it's all a series of huge underground magnets :P). This story is based entirely on fact. The only changes that have been made are chronological changes as some of the events I was not there for, and only heard retold by my father, and some changes have been made to my fathers 'colourful' vocabulary. It is up to the reader to decide whether or not they believe in the supernatural and extraterrestrial. If you do not, well, enjoy it as a nice little short story :).
Nissyen is pronounced 'Ness-jyun,' and yes, that is his real name. My mothers name is Chelly, and many people pronounce it 'Shelly' but that is not right either, the C is right where it should be :)
If people are interested in seeing them, someday I may show the pictures I took from the vacation.


[blockquote]Vortex By Kadath Bird; Based upon true events

My mum, my brother Nissyen, and I all sat in a dirty Toyota Rav 4. Desert scenery passed by as we drove through Nevada. My mum was listening to a book on tape, it was a murder mystery. The scenery, coupled with the tape, gave me an odd chill and reminded me of the Doors song, 'Riders on the storm. Riders on the storm. There's a killer on the road. His brain is squirmin' like a toad. If you give this man a ride, sweet memory will die! Killer on the road.' I had my laptop plugged into a special adapter, which in turn plugged into the cigarette lighter. I was listening to Japanese music and playing Starcraft. We stopped in a few places, ate some steak while mum played on the slots, until we finally reached our destination of Carson city. We had come here to visit my father, who had came here to take care of my grandmother, whose husband had recently died. We scouted out a motel, and then drove to his place.

When we arrived, he instantly asked me if we had brought any cameras. We had indeed brought cameras, 3. A small digital camera, a bulky camcorder and then a slightly more compact digital camcorder. He told me about the canyon behind grandmas house. He took me into the backyard, which was filled with sand, nothing but a giant sandbox with dangerous tools instead of toys. I stepped carefully to avoid stepping on hammers and screwdrivers as he led me to the fence. "You see those lights down there, boy? That's how we'll find our way back home. Those lights are the whorehouses." I gave him an awkward glance but trusted him. He then pointed over to the canyon, and more specifically, the mountain behind it. "You see that mountain? You see any lights on it? Any houses, anything?" I squinted to see it in the dark with my poor eyes. There were no houses, no lights. It was completely empty. "No, there's nothing up there." I said. "Exactly! Yet whenever we start walking out into that canyon, these lights slowly appear, and then they blare up like friggen' stadium lights! And then when you walk out of the canyon, you see nothing." That night I was too tired to go out hiking with them, they pestered me about it, but I got to the hotel and rested up for the next day.

In the morning, we switched motels, because the motel we first picked had a lack of internet and a hot tub. After checking in, we went to a Denny's and had breakfast before heading to my fathers. When we got there, my youngest brother who could speak, Carson, screamed at us when we opened the door. He slammed it shut, and then made sure all the other doors were closed tight. I just noticed then too that all the curtains were closed. "What's with him?" I asked my father. "He's scared out of his mind, so is Britney." Britney was my oldest sister, 8 years old. I could understand Carson being scared, but not Britney. "You see boy, last night they saw something out of their windows and now they can't have the windows or doors open. Carson says he saw a dragon, who told him that he was going to come and eat us. Now Britney, she says she saw a scarecrow, who told her that he was watching her." I laughed a little bit, seeing it more as a boogeyman type presence than a true haunting. The day past busily, till finally night came and we prepared to enter the Canyon. None of our cameras were charged, so we borrowed theirs, and set out with my dad and my brothers Nissyen and Nathan.

As we entered the Canyon, I could already feel chills. Down the path we took shadows bent despite a total lack of moonlight, and every time I looked back, a pair of eyes looked intently back upon me. The trail led through many walled passages, tunnels without ceilings, where I could see people in front of us flee as we came closer. People of shadow. But when we passed them, I could feel them follow us and breathe upon our neck. The walls finally stopped, and we came to an area with no walls. There was a drop, and in that drop was a literal graveyard of cars and salvaged parts. I wondered how they had gotten there. And then a bright light blinded me, I looked into the skyline and up at the mountains, and saw several odd lemon-yellow lights on the mountains, attached to nothing. I pulled out the camera and took a picture. We moved on, and the lights grew slowly brighter, till eventually they just.. snuffed out. We ventured into the canyon until a point where my brother, Nissyen, became scared. I was nervous. I felt a million eyes upon me, I snapped back and took a picture. I could feel a strange sensation in my head and stomach, as if time had lurched forward. My dad wanted us to venture further, but he then noticed a car in the far off distance. It wasn't federal, and it wasn't moving. He told us to go back to the home, quietly and slowly. When we began to move, the car moved, at the same speed as us. We picked a faster pace, and the car took to it. We stopped, and dad looked back at the car, which had just stopped. We had neared the edge of the canyon, and we exited, beating the car out.

The next morning, I slept in, but my mum and Nissyen had stopped by dads for a bit. They picked up prints of the photos I had taken. The photo of the mountain lights was blank. Completely blank. The other photos I took, were filled with floating orbs huge and unseen by my eye when I took them. One was red, and it gave me chills. When we went to their house that day, another strange event had begun at their home. The walls were covered in red dots that had spontaneously erupted. They came off easily, but smeared sometimes. When collided together, they became dark, like blood. The walls were bleeding. Not your, Amity-ville horror style gushing blood that drips and pours, but just spots of it. They grew back hour upon hour, even after washing. There was a huge one in the washroom that bothered me the most. That night, we did not go out to the canyon, I let my cameras charge.

The next night, however, we did go back to the canyon. This time my mother came with us. We took a different, higher path. This path bothered me even more than the last. No shadowmen, but whispers. My mum held the digital camera while I filmed the area in nightvision. My mum noticed something flying by in the sky, too fast to be a plane, too small and oddly coloured to be a comet or other meteorological event. She took a picture of it, and then a small 'boom' erupted and the sky was filled with a purple flash. We ventured deeper into the canyon, deeper than apparently my father had ever gone before. He believed we were getting close to the vortex. I noticed strange distortions, and eventually, even though it's battery meter was full, my camera ran out of power. My mums still worked, and she was taking pictures still. I became light headed. My father pointed out a strange field in front of us. As we came closer, it was a huge, vast field of fungus and insects. He poked one of them with his walking stick, and it burst and he said nervously, "All right, time to go!" and we hiked back.

When we looked at the photos on our camera, my mum did not get a picture of the thing in the sky, but only the purple flash. Several other photographs revealed thousands of orbs floating in the canyon, above our heads and around us. There is even one photograph of me and my brother sitting in the living room, and in the window outside, is a huge orb and on top of it are a pair of red dots. One photograph, appears to be nothing but black, but upon closer inspection, a brown skull can be seen. Ever since that second night in the canyon, stranger things happened at the house, such as my dads 3 computers turning on in quick succession, whispers, shadowmen, and other strange phenomena. Another mystery has presented itself, because the military has shown interest in the canyon, and every night they do 'training runs' with fully armed apache helicopters and chinhooks. Why would they be fully armed? What is out there that could be dangerous that the military wants to find? Consider everything that has happened with an open mind.[/blockquote]
 
cool stories croutons. i plan on putting up a story of my own, but it may not be scary. I never really have endings so i don't know if it will be super long or i'll shorten it.
 
Sorry for the lateness again! I've been really sick :( Throwing up a lot 'n' stuff.

This is based on a dream I had.

As always, leave comments :)
[blockquote]The Trader By Kadath Bird
I walked up the mountain side, parched of thirst and ready to collapse, when the sound of jingling steel clashed through the air. The sound, carried by the wind was welcome to my ears and I climbed onwards, following the sound hoping to find a man who would trade goods for wealth. Eventually the ground became level, and there stood a man, in a wonderous blue robe, holding a staff covered with diamonds and steel, the breeze blowing them together, clashing and making the sound that brought me here. Behind him was a stall, shoddily built and covered in red stains I expected was paint. I could not see inside, for it was not open, two doors with golden skulls protruding from them covered the inside. I collapsed on the ground, panting and breathing as hard as I could. I grabbed my heart and then my throat. The man planted his staff in the ground, and held out his hand, I grabbed it as he helped me up. I staggered a little then balanced myself. I asked him if he had anything to drink.

He opened the cabinet-like stall without uttering a word, spreading his cloak so that I could not see inside. When he turned round, he had in his hands a chalice of fine red wine. I sipped it, it was a welcome taste to my lips. Both sweet from it's origins and bitter with it's alcohol, but refreshing none the less. He held out his hand, I knew what he expected. I pulled out a sack of gold coins, and asked him how many he required. He reached into the sack and pulled out only a single coin, and for the first time spoke, but as he spoke, his mouth did not move. "This coin shall fill the spot from where the wine came from." He opened the stall once again, spreading his cloak wide as he did so that I could not see inside, and he placed the coin into a seemingly invisible slot. Nothing happened, not to my knowledge. I got up, thanked him, and was on my way.

I had found a stream higher up in the mountain, it slaked my thirst but I found nothing edible to slake my hunger. I had to backtrack, but as soon as I had thought that, the sound of steel jingling and clashing in the wind came closer and I knew it was the trader. He came around the corner, pulling his stall as he went, and as he saw me he smiled and I told him that I was hungry. He opened his stall, this time holding a knife, my sight obscured by his cloak. I saw his hands gracefully move and when he turned 'round he had in his hand a fresh, juicy steak. I pulled out my sack of coins as he lit a fire to cook, I asked him how much, and once again he took the coins himself. He took 6 this time. "These coins should fill the hole from where the meat has come from." His mouth did not move, it did not open once, I began to wonder, many things about him. After the food was cooked and I ate, I was on my way, and it was getting quite late.

Once I reached my destination, high on the mountain, there was no cave as my friend back home had said, and it had begun to rain, and it was much too late to be hiking back. I did not plan to camp outside, but as soon as I thought that, the trader came up the hike. I told him I needed shelter, he opened his stall, his strange, strange stall and came out with dry canvas, sheets and supports. He made a tent, and inside the tent a bed. I became suspicious of this tent, the canvas was coloured that of human skin, it was cold to the touch, and certainly not dry on the inside. The rods were white, but had cracks and had an almost wooden texture, but they would not break as easily as wood, no, they were as tough as bone. The only normal thing about this tent was my sheet and my bed. I asked the trader how much I should pay, and he smiled and told me that gold would not satisfy him, I must owe him someday. He left, and left his strange, strange stall behind, and I lay down to sleep in my strange, strange tent.

Curiosity awoke me in the middle of the night, and I walked to his stall, with, I admit, just a bit of fright. I pulled the handles and slowly it opened, I nearly went mad at what I saw in the stall. A sickening sight, the torso of a man, right next to that of a woman. The woman had chunks missing from the body, my gold pieces filled the spots where they had been taken. The man had no skin, bones had been stolen, I finally realized, where the trader got all his goods. I grabbed my things, shut the stall, and ran down the hike, hoping to get home. But I heard the sound of steel crashing, and around the corner came the trader, smiling at me. He said I owed him, one human body to replace the bone and flesh used to make my shelter, he pulled out his blade and took to my throat.
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I apologize for the lack of a story these last few days!!! I am currently wrapping up chapter one of my novella, but I promise once I get that out on my journal, I'll put up a new story or two here. I don't want this thread to die :( If any of you guys have any stories lying somewhere, please post them!
 
Sorry about the double post, but this thread needs a bump! Chapter one of my novel is out on my live journal, so here is my newest story!

Here is my latest 'creepy story.' Posted simultaneously here and on my Live Journal. It's in a sense a spiritual successor to '3:00', but it is still very different. The only similarities are the fact that it has to do with time and insanity. It's also slightly inspired by real events, not any event in particular, but I know that there have been many occasions where something has happened that is similar. Maybe not the insanity bit, but sometimes I overhear shows about murder that my parents watch, I can't watch them cause real murders bother me (It should be obvious, since real murder is bad.. I especially can't see the pictures they show on the TV or in newspapers x)) but I overhear them sometimes.

[blockquote]Tick Tock By Kadath 'Croutons' Bird

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The grandfather clock spoke. It said to me, Burn. Them. Burn. Them. But all my husband and my daughter heard was Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. And when the bells chime midnight, my head would spin and in my bed I would writhe. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Cut. Them. Cut. Them. A cacophony of laughter kept me from slumber, I hid under my blankets. Chills ran up my spine, and once again the clock would chime. Bing. Bong. Bing. Bong. Bury. Them. Bury. Them. The cacophony rose to a chorus, and I could take it no longer!

I went into our garage and grabbed a can of gasoline, I tied my husband and my daughter to a tree, I danced around said tree, laughing madly, pouring the gasoline as they looked at me sadly, until their feet and the tree were covered in the gasoline. I lit a match, threw it on the patch of grass where the gasoline dripped from their toes and bark, and watched the tree blaze up. I laughed and laughed, madder and madder, hearing their muffled screams as the flames licked their feet and their clothes and their hands and their chest, their whole body! The tree burned up, black as ash, no leaves remained, a branch fell off, but the tree was still there, and inside my head I heard the grandfather clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Cut. Them. Cut. Them.

I ran back to the garage, and found an ax, perfect and sharp and saw that their ropes had burned away, and their charred bodies were still squirming on the ground. I raised the ax and chopped them away, into slices so fine they could be mistaken for giant sashimi! The cacophony of laughter died off, and I dropped the ax, and went to my house, and climbed into bed. But just that morning, right at noon, the grandfather clock chimed. Bing. Bong. Bing. Bong. The laughter raised once again, and my ears began to bleed, I covered them in pain and fear, and ran outside, but it only got louder! I looked upon the charred and mutilated corpses of my husband and daughter, not remembering or realizing what I had done. I screamed and cried, and saw the ax, suddenly, it begun to look extremely friendly. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. A family dead. Homicide and suicide. A family dead. Homicide and suicide.[/blockquote]
 
I've been busy with chapter 2 of hollows so I haven't had time to write my own story, but my gf, Chie is contributing this time :) Like the one I dedicated to her, Harvestmen it is heavily inspired by the myths of anthropomorphic death. I also must apologize, as I called her a 'he' earlier when I showed the drawing of the grinning man, sorry, Chie! Hehe. Thankfully, no translation was needed because she speaks English almost flawlessly [She lived here for several years, that's how I met her. When it comes to this story, I did fix a few mistakes though, not many.] cause I have no time to translate and she hates doing it, because although she can speak English, when she learned it, she had to forget [not literally, but in a sense] her native language and learn English like it was her first language, so when she translates stuff it doesn't come out well :(

Anyways, here's her story! Leave comments that I can give to her :P

[blockquote]The reapers garden By Chie Sakaguchi
Every spring when the harvest came in, I would walk outside, into the cool humid air, carrying a scythe to cut down the grass and plants before me. Many people saw it as an outlandish practice in such a modern era why would I use such a primitive tool? It got the job done. Every night, I'd sit on my porch rocking with a cigar in my mouth, smoke billowing out into beautiful shapes that danced gracefully as the cherry lit my gaunt face. People would see me from afar, seeing nothing but bone and being frightened away from me. No one ever came into my garden, no one ever came near me. It was a lonely life, hacking away at a garden with a scythe.

But then one day, someone trespassed in my garden. A lost young woman who was tired and cold. She was naked, her face was pale. I gave her some warm clothes, and sat her by the fireside. "Why aren't you afraid of me?" I asked her, my cigar nearly burning to ash. "I'm already in your domain. I chose to come here." She said this with chattering teeth, the clothes and the fire did not seem to warm her at all. I did not understand what she was saying. "Let me see your blade," she said. "It is all that can warm me." I went out to my shack, and found my scythe. Moonlight fell through cracks in the wood, and my bony arm seemed even paler than before. I ignored it, and went inside.

"What is it you want from me?" I asked her. "Death. I jumped off a bridge, straight into the river, and because you were not there, I simply froze in the waters for nearly a year, pain and agony, until I finally saw you from afar, harvesting in your garden." she said. "But.. I'm not death! I'm simply a farmer." I became scared, my hands trembled with my blade in my hand. "You weren't death. But death has left our world, and a new reaper has been chosen. You have his blade, please, release me from purgatory, only then can I leave you, and only then can I rest." I raised my blade in terror, I would never see myself harming someone innocent, and I hacked off her head in one fell swoop. Blood spurted and dripped down her neck, her head and body hit the floor, I could tell it was smiling, and then her spirit appeared before me. "I feel warm.." was all she said, before vanishing.

The next day, I went to harvest my crops, like I always did, but when I did so, I looked in terror as they bled, and I realized that I was no longer harvesting crops. I was harvesting souls.
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Here is my final entry in the 'Time' trilogy, if you could call it that, which started with 3:00 and continued with Tick Tock. I was having a hard time writing it, so my gf Chie helped me :) The dog, 'Gangu' is named after the dog in the film 'Odishon (Audition)' I will give you guys a warning, I would suggest you read this one with an open mind, it gets a little more perverse than any of the ones I have written before, so I'd say get your parents permission if you are under 15. It's not really that graphic, but it has sexual themes beyond just using the word 'whore'.

By the way, Blazing Heat, Chapter 2 is coming along as planned and will be out on Monday :D

Anyways, enjoy the story!

[blockquote]Hours and routine By Kadath Bird & Chie Sakaguchi (坂口知恵)

The day begins at 6 am. I kiss my wife, Haruka, on the forehead, she smiles but stays asleep, beautiful in the rising sunlight as it pours over her face and her deep red hair. I put on a coat, I eat breakfast, I pour dog food in Gangu's bowl, the day continues at 7 am. I walk through the shroud that covers Sapporo, oddly, I miss the crowded streets of Tokyo. The fog has always scared me here, but at least we have the best beer here. I always giggle at my stupid little joke.

I arrive at my office, it's the tallest building in the town, despite only being 5 stories high, one story taller than the apartment complex nearby. Work begins at 8 am. Hours pass, I do not think about them very often. At 12 pm, lunch begins. At 1 pm, lunch ends and work resumes. I ignore the hours till I get off work, at 6 pm, the day begins to end, along with work. I walk home, the sea mist thick in the air, it always scares me. I see shadows in the fog.

Shadows of men & women, long gone. Ghosts that think they are still there, crying for someone to love, naked as the day they were born. Sometimes they talk to me, especially the women. I try not to answer, because if I do, they think they are alive. One time one of the women ran up to me, and pressed her soft body against mine and asked me to touch her breasts, I told her I was married. And tears of blood ran down her face as it rotted away, I pushed her off in terror and ran away.

At 7 pm I arrive at home, I pet the dog and have dinner with Haruka. We talk about our days. Haruka has a job as well, she works for a voice studio, and does voice overs for national geographic documentaries like 'Taboo'. She would be into real anthropology, but she never passed college. She frowned at me. "I had a dream today, a dream about Yumi & Akira." I saw tears swirl in her eyes. "I thought we came here to forget about them." I told her, anger and sadness boiling inside me. "How can you forget your children? What kind of parent just forgets about them?" Haruka then left the room, and then the house.

At 9 pm, I climbed into bed and took my medication, if Haruka were here, we would be making love, it felt strange for my routine to be broken.

My routine began again the next day, except Haruka was not in bed. It was strange. The routine continued normally though, from 6 am, 7 am, 8 am, 12 pm, 6 pm, 7 pm, and 9 pm. All without Haruka though. I became worried. The next morning, my routine changed.

I awoke at 4 am. Fog was seeping into my house, I curled up, terrified at who I might meet, what living dead was hiding in the fog now in my house. I stood up and walked downstairs, and had breakfast. I poured food into Gangu's bowl, I pet him as he walked in and he looked at me with his sad, droopy eyes. At 5 am I left my house for work. As I walked out, into the fog, terrified of the people stuck in limbo, I noticed a red streak in the sidewalk. I followed it, cautiously. It was blood, there was no doubt about that. I followed it, and heard familiar crying.

Three shadows sat in the distance, I could tell they were all crying. As I approached, the largest one in the middle stood up and put it's hands in front of the two smaller ones eyes and I heard a familiar voice again, "Don't follow me." The trail of blood stopped where the shadow began, and as it came closer I saw blood dripping from it. I backed in terror, but found myself backing into a wall. It wasn't there before! As my vision became clearer, I saw the figure of a woman. Tall, beautiful dark red hair, small but gorgeous breasts, the body of a goddess, but the face was ravaged by death. Blood dripped from the eyes that were no longer there, and I realized I was staring at my darling Haruka. She said to me that she had to rejoin her children, but since I wanted to forget her name, she knew the only way to rejoin them was in limbo. For the first time since their death, I cried. "I could not forget Akira & Yumi.. no parent can forget their children.." She looked at me with her eyeless sockets, and for a second, her face was cleared of blood and all beauty returned to her, and she held out her soft hand "Then join me. Join us." I was afraid of the fog. I was afraid of changing my routine, but I took a knife from my pocket, and at 8 am, I cut open my stomach, and let my soul enter limbo.

But little did I know, even the dead had a routine. At 4 am the fog would roll in from the waters, and I would wake up, Haruka, Akira & Yumi appearing by my side, and at 5 we would cry to each other, missing true life, at 8, work would begin, and we would beg people to bring us back to life, at 12 the sun would force us to hide in crags and crevices, and when the fog came back as the sun went down, we would ask people for life once again, in vain, but then at midnight, the fog would vanish, and we would sleep in true death for a pleasant 4 hours.
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I'm sorry for my abscence, sadly I can't say it was for the writing of Chapter 3. I have pancreatitis, which got me admitted into the hospital. Then they found Staph on my tongue, which is normally where it stays dormant, but it's spreading into my throat. So I just barely got out of the hospital. But at the same time, that gave me inspiration for this story, which I have intended to be my most warped yet, it even bothered me a little.

The inspirations this time 'round are mostly molded around my fears, as well as all the sickness I saw in the hospital, which is very unpleasant to me.. And then there is just my love for the surreal and avant garde, I wanted to throw a bit of David Chronenberg [The Videodrome-Naked Lunch era. Not the more 'normal' era with things like Eastern Promises and History of Violence] in as well, the whole premise of losing your humanity in some bizarre way. I'm also writing it in a less traditional sense, it's actually broken into segments that patch together the life of 'The Tumor.'

Enjoy! Leave comments

[blockquote]The Tumor By Kadath Bird

When I was born, they called me 'The Tumor.' I would spread fear through people, and eventually, they would die. Everyone believes that they died of the many psychological disturbances I put fed their minds, spoonful by spoonful of paranoia, schizophrenia, MPD, psychosis, but in truth, I am a cancer. I was a cancer to my mother, I was a cancer to my father. Hence, I am a tumor. And I am malignant.

BIRTH: The day I was born, I was born a normal, healthy baby boy. But the doctor was sick at the time, light headed and woozy, he had no idea what he was doing. He stuck his hand in the orange container with the symbol, once an imperial symbol to the Japanese, but now a symbol of disease and hazard. Bio-Hazard. He pulled his hand out, blood dripped from his hand onto the floor as he laughed like a madman. He walked over to me, and snatched my from my mothers breast, and trickled the blood down my throat. I could not scream and cry like a normal baby should have, but as the blood went down my throat and my tiny ears rang with my parents screaming to get me back, I screamed, and even though I was a newborn baby, I remember feeling the diseases. The bio-hazards. They changed me.

MOTHER: My mother was the first to go. I was 3 years old, and my malignancy was already spreading through the air. She became paranoid, afraid to approach me; and to approach her meant a bottle of mace to my face. An entire bottle. My head grew cysts and boils, and when my dad joked; "Now there's a face only a mother could love!" my mum grabbed a knife and said "Not even a mother, George my dear, not even a mother. I want to cut those boils off, cut them off and rid them of their poison!" she yelled, but my father stopped her. I was not allowed out of the house, besides car rides. I had to stay in the car in the stifling heat, but occasionally, I would see someone walk by and stare into the car at me. I would see tears of blood drain down their eyes, sometimes they would run off, or bash the back door of the car declaring that I was the son of the devil. One time, someone had a gun. They pointed it at me, but the crimson tears flowed down her once lovely face, and she turned it towards her and fired a shot, square in her brain. I could smell the cancer in the air, a tumor had grown on her brain, and she knew she would die anyways. That woman, was my mother.

FATHER: My father lasted longer than any of them. He would hide in the other room to avoid me, but he had claustrophobia. He would whimper and cower in the corner of his small, small room as the darkness came, and even during the day I would hear his whimpering. My cancer seeped through the walls, poisoning the house, and one day, my father was looking at me. I was aged 8, and I had to sit in a wheel chair with a head brace. The tumor inside my own head had grown to the point I could not handle the weight. But somehow, I did not die from it. It seemed the more I gave to people, the longer I lived. As he stared at me, he collapsed. I called 911, and an ambulance came quickly. They tried to help him, but he died. I asked them to perform an autopsy, and when the results came in... They found tumors. Tumors in his brain. Tumors on his lungs. Even a tumor in his breast. I was sickened to find his name and legacy inside a book of world records one time.

MID-LIFE: I became 50, and many people have died. Anyone who comes within contact of me, dies. I am no longer human, I am simply a tumor. A lump of flesh containing tangled molecules. My head grew larger over the years, my hands had melted away, and rooted themselves into the floor. I hadn't used them in so long, it took me until I was 48 to notice my feet had already melted. And as I sat in my chair, I slowly melted down onto the floor. A lump of flesh. Nothing more.

DEATH: Someone actually bought this house. A couple that seems to care more about carnal relations than love. I hear them all the time, and I wonder if my cancer has poisoned the house. Eventually, the noises stopped. And I knew they were dead. I was 89 years old, merely a lump of flesh on the floor. But there was one thing keeping me alive; the tumor in my brain. When people sucked away my cancer, I lived. It took another 100 years before the house was condemned, and I could feel blood trickling down my head. It had simply grown too large. The tumor burst my head apart with ease, and I saw my own brain fall onto the floor. All that was left of my humanity... But the tumor grew, it grew over me, and it ate me away. The cancer finally caught up to me. [/blockquote]

P.S. To those reading The Forgotten Hollows, Chapter 3 will begin process tomorrow, sorry for the delays!
 
Scary one :) I'm afraid of tumors anyways, you just made it worse :(

Hopefully Chapter 3 will clear that up :)
 
Oooh, that's a great one Croutons!

I'm looking forward to your finished novel!
 
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