Note: If anyone is in posession of the DGML archives from before their move to the yahoo group, please let me know. I need to get some of my stories off of there that I cant seem to find anywhere. ;-(
Enjoy (I hope)
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10-01-2003 21:59 EST
Interior 1992 Blue Ford Conversion Van
Mike gazes through the windshield. It’s hard to see because the moisture level building up in the van is condensing on the inside of the cool windshield. A rookie mistake. He uses his hand to wipe off the wet window to get a better look. No way he’s cracking a window, it’s raining cat’s and dogs out there. He strains his eyes to watch the front of the house on Ardmore Street.
The front porch light is on. On for a reason. It makes the darkness next to the side of the house darker. Easier for someone to watch from. He doesn’t realize this. Another rookie mistake. The rain pounds on the roof of the van, hopelessly drowining out any possibility of hearing anything.
10.1.200322:00 EST
Exterior 2556 Ardmore
The drenched figuire next to the side of the house has a smile on his face. He watches the van with the same sort of anticipation that a small child would have on Christmas morning, before the presents are to be opened.
The singing begins very faintly in the far back of his throat. Standing next to him, a listener wouldn’t be too sure where the sound was coming from.
The song builds in intensity as the look of concentration congeals upon the singers face. The stubble from four days growth is trapping and directing the rain water into bizzare courses upon man’s countenance.
The sounds eminating from the throat of the man sound impossible for a human to make. It would remind one of cymbals crashing and the vibrating of crystals.
10.1.200322:01 EST
Interior 1992 Blue Ford Conversion Van
“Just keep an eye on the front of the house for me, Mike” is what Sheldon had told him.
“Stay out of sight though, man” He had stated seriously. “We just need you to watch that door. This is a big help to us, and we wont forget it. ”
Mike was excited. Sheldon seemed to be a nice guy, a senior Field Agent with many years under his belt dealing with high profile cases. That he had picked Mike was very flattering to Mike, and he wasn’t about to screw this up.
Mike was a rookie Field Agent with the Miluakee Branch Office of the FBI. He was staking out this house at the request of a senior agent. He was told that this man was under suspicion of trafficking in stolen artwork, and that he was in the process of fencing off most of it.
He was lied to. Sheldon was an Agent of the FBI, but his true loyalties lie elsewhere. He was an operator for a little known government agency codenamed Majestic. And Majestic was after some crucial documents in Mately’s posession. The group knew Mately was dangerous, and needed someone to be put in harms way. Who better than someone not affiliated with them in any way, someone eager to help out.
He absently scratched his armpit and smelled his fingers. A tool of boredom he had picked up during puberty and never quite gotten rid of.
The driver side window was fogged up, and a single bead of condensation meandered downwards, slowly carving a clearer picture of the front of the house than he was now afforded through the windshield.
Had he focused intently through that small opening, he could have seen Mately, the subject of this investigation walking slowly through the rain, feet sloshing in the sopping grass, eyes glazed in concentration, mouth undulating in rythmic motions, voice lilting higher and higher upon the wind, moving towards the rear of the van.
10.1.200322:02 EST
Interior 2559 Ardmore – Living Room
The room was dark. The windows cracked, the water splashing from the rain onto the living room sill. A rental property so close to the subjects residence? Not a chance. The fates it seemed had frowned upon the Teerns who had been living here until earlier this evening.
It was simple for Sheldon to hook up the hose to the dryer vent and wait for the carbon monoxide in the two cylinders to seep noislessly into the house. The inclement weather ensured that the windows would be shut tight.
He had learned that a single-story ranch this size took approximatey one hour to fill, and just a little bit longer to kill everything inside that wasn’t in a fish tank. No noise, no mess. Simple. When leaving he would start the car in the garage and leave the garage/kitchen access open. Everyone would think the man had done this on purpose to his own family.
He wanted a cigarette. Badly he wanted one. But no dice, not breaking any rules this close to the prize.
He had learned a lot since hooking up with Majestic. People mean nothing. Just do your damn job and don’t get too close to anybody. They are tools to be used however possible to achieve the end result. He would never be a victim he had told himself innumerable times. He had seen things. Things he would have scoffed at not so many years ago. Things that had made him cry silently at night like a terrified four-year old.
Things that corrupted, slaughtered, consumed. Things that caused grown, battle hardened men to shit themselves running away. Things that would drive someone to happily slaughter their entire family, laughing all the time, and then go out for cheeseburgers, still covered in the grisly evidence with not a care in the world.
He took a cigarette out of the pack and tore the paper off of it. He collected the tobacco in the palm of his hand and put the paper in his pocket. He opened his mouth and pushed out his bottom lip, dipping the tobacco. This wasn’t the first time he’d cold smoked, and sure as shit wouldn’t be the last.
Watching through the window he could see that dumbass Mikes silouette, and at the same time see Mately walking slowly towards the van.
“C’mon Mac, what are you up to?” He quietly asked the shadowed figuire creeping towards the back of the van.
10.1.200322:03 EST
Deep Space Nebula
A comforting motion allowed it to rest. It had swung in an immense orbital arc though this part of the galaxy for sixty million earth years, only disturbed by the plaintive cries of the coutless offspring it seeded in periodic waves, who were then dispersed by the ever changing solar winds to far off places to grow themselves and seed again.
If it had eyelids, they would be closed. Sleeping, dreaming of the dancing of it’s masters. The songs they sang could be heard throughout the universe. The particular vocalities travelled the aetherous universe in an non-conforming manner. Taking seconds, when they should have taken eons.
If it had eyelids, they now would be opened. For it heard their song again. It stirred. Steeling itself for the journey to a far away place where the song was strongest. It leaped from the nucleus of the comet it called home and bored a hole through the fabric that held the space around it together.
10.1.200322:04 EST
One hundred feet above 1992 Blue Ford Conversion Van
The air, replete with the slices of raindrops shimmered like a piece of wet plastic with a light shone on it. The air temperature rose to 2300 degrees fahrenheit quickly, flashing the raindrops to steam in mid-air as the rend appeared.
The song, so much clearer now, held it in it’s sway. The song built a picture in it’s brain of the terrain it was looking at. Sort of like a 3-d mapping system used by modern fighter jets or tanks to see where they are going.
A grid, or something like it would have appeared below it, with the 1992 Blue Ford Conversion Van in the exact center of it. It moved downwards thorough the air with an immense speed. Wanting, needing, crying out to get to the marked spot to appease it’s master.
A small superheated projectile moving at incomprehensible speed impacting an enclosed hollow object can make for some interesting happenings.
10.1.200322:04 EST
Interior 1992 Blue Ford Conversion Van
Mike gazes through the windshield. He has a hard-on. He is thinking about Rebecca from the office. Her lean body and tight ass, or so he imagines. He hasn’t asked her out yet, but she does smile at him when he walks by.
He begins to hear something high pitched and then everything goes black.
The most merciful thing in the universe, in this instance is that Mike was dead almost at the moment of impact.
The small, dense, crystilline form of the thing allowed for ease of travel over extremely long distances, increased survivability in the harshest of environments and for an extremely long lifespan. It measured about the size of an adult human hand balled into a fist.
The pressure wave created when the being entered the van caused in the millisecond of entry the windows to bow out into a ridiculous, almost comical shape.
Mikes eardrums suffered a similar fate. As well as his eyes and most of the blood vessels in his body.
Shortly thereafter, as the being was six inches inside the van, decellerating rapidly, the window glass gave way in a deafening blast that spread the glass over most of the block.
The two front seats of the van, including Mike were blown through and into the dash and engine compartment. The high velocity of the motion, coupled with the extreme sudden stop of the body impacting the solid front of the vehicle caused Mike’s head to detach from the neck and sail down the street, dead eyes glittering on the glass still bouncing and rain still falling. It would be found four hours later, after an ever widening search in a flower bed at the end of the block.
The rear door latch, rusted from years of neglected maintenance gave way and the doors blew outward with the glass from the windows leading the way as a kind of fragmented escort service.
The glass missed Mately by inches as he closed on the rear of the van, but the left rear door caught him square in the forehead, crushing his skull, silencing the song and throwing the body backwards in ragdoll fashion some 15 feet to come to rest near the sidewalk.
Then the fire came. The heat transfer caused the interior of the vehicle to erput into flames.
The singing had now stopped. The being concentrated it’s will on searching out the sound of the song it still longed to hear. Was it dream? An illusion?
Small shimmering noises could be hear above the inferno of the van, sad sounds surely coming from it that had come heeding the call of it’s masters only to find the call gone. It again fractured the space-time fabric and moved back to it’s resting spot to wait. Always waiting.
10.1.200322:05 EST
Interior 2559 Ardmore – Living Room
His mouth hung open. Synapses stunned by an overwhelming flood of stimuli sluggishly attemted to trigger fight or flee instinct.
The van was demolished. It looked from his angle like a large sandwhich with the center pushed in and completely ablaze.
He had seen a brilliant blue flash, like a stroke of lightning hit dead center in the van. Then everything went to shit, and fast.
His feet were moving before he could think of what to do. His hands grabbed his jacket and he headed out of the front door.
He didnt look back.
Six Minutes
Moderators: mgmirkin, Moderators
Six Minutes
Last edited by sTango on Tue Apr 11, 2006 12:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.
this is pretty cool! i especially like the explosion of the van. if you ask me, you could have ended it with 'always waiting.' the addition of the fleeing neighbor kind of dampens the impact of the rest of the story. unless i'm missing some vital clue that ties him in, all i get is '...and a neighbor saw it and ran off.' i think a round of editing would really bring out the stored energy of this one
thanks for the nod. the guy in the end is Sheldon who set the guy in the van up. I think I may need to do a little more to solidfy that association.
ps i just edited the story, because I saw that in a couple of spots i had written Shendon which is probably misleading.
ps i just edited the story, because I saw that in a couple of spots i had written Shendon which is probably misleading.
Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane.
--HP Lovecraft
--HP Lovecraft
oh, ok.. it's sheldon leaving the house where he just carbon monoxidized the family. that would be clear if you just say 'sheldon's mouth' instead of 'his mouth hung open.' also, what's the connection between the teerns and mately? is it just a coincidence that these 2 covert operations are going on right next to each other?
so the teerns were killed because their house had a good view of mately and mike? here in the story, it was rather vague when i read it..
A rental property so close to the subjects residence? Not a chance. The fates it seemed had frowned upon the Teerns who had been living here until earlier this evening.
[b]to propose disambiguation,[/b] JJ Burke wrote:right across the street - he could not have hoped to find such a vantage point available for rent. the teerns had to be eliminated (as possible witnesses? because that's just how sheldon rolls? ..don't ask so many questions?)
Last edited by JJ Burke on Tue Apr 11, 2006 2:36 pm, edited 4 times in total.
sorry man, didnt see your quotes section
that's pretty much how everyone rolls who works for Majestic. they dont play niciesright across the street - he could not have hoped to find such a vantage point available for rent. the teerns had to be eliminated (as possible witnesses? because that's just how sheldon rolls? ..don't ask so many questions?)
Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane.
--HP Lovecraft
--HP Lovecraft
Dont worry about it. When I wrote that (like 5 years ago) I was deep into Delta Green so I was taking for granted that the reader was more than a bit exposed to the different groups involved. Sometimes when I write I find it hard to take the position of the reader, especially when it comes to explaining key points.
Anyway, I actually like the chance to explain it to someone. It shows that it was interesting enough to warrent the questions, and shows me where I can improve.
Anyway, I actually like the chance to explain it to someone. It shows that it was interesting enough to warrent the questions, and shows me where I can improve.
Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane.
--HP Lovecraft
--HP Lovecraft
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nortonew
- Lurking Fear
- Posts: 215
- Joined: Tue Jul 20, 2004 9:02 pm
- Location: Barren, frozen, wastelands
The "Interior 2559 Ardmore – Living Room" at the beginning of the last section told me who it was that was leaving abruptly at the end. However, I would have to admit that I had to look back to double check the person's identity. A reader that notices details will probably understand, but since most readers aren't likely to put a whole lot of energy into reading the story, you might want to dumb it down a bit.
