EG_Administration wrote:yes, i too have come into a run in. Though rightly by tomarrow evening I shall have the story to you, i have simply been unable to finish my story as of today. I will have it you, at the latest, by tomarrow evening. If this forfeits my hope in the running, than atleast I can show my effort and interest in the contest, besides.
Woodruff
I to am coming up about 1000 words short....
If I dont have it done in a day I will just post my rather short piece..
"I'm farther from doing what I want to do than I was 20 years ago"
~~H.P.Lovecraft~~
IMDB wrote: in the event of a zombie apocalypse, or the return of Cthulu, be near a Wal-Mart!
ok, i've taken my incomplete story down from the previous page. i'll keep trying to write it, and might even finish by the final ultimate omega deadline tba
A monkey riding a dog is probably the awesomest thing that could ever happen.
Contributors wanted! Fantastic Horror — Original Works of Disturbing Imagination
Hodgson wrote:It'll be fine with me if we push back the deadline. Do you want to give it a few more days or a week?
That works. My apologies for causing a ruckus. If you care to push the deadline back a few more days, I would not mind, yet surely should have my story in by tonight if not the day prior.
Woodruff
"Most men dream at night, to wake in the day and find that it was vanity...
But the Dreamers of the Day are dangerous men, for they may act upon their dreams."
A monkey riding a dog is probably the awesomest thing that could ever happen.
Contributors wanted! Fantastic Horror — Original Works of Disturbing Imagination
My tale is a long one, and after you have heard it you will most likely judge me for insane. I do not blame you because now I am sure that I actually am mad. I must state that I was once sane, and before the time of my incarceration in this infernal prison for the delusional I led a normal life. My apologies for not introducing myself, I am William Henderson and once I may have been called an artist, which of course was before I had lost my right hand. I played often in the Kingston united symphony as a flautist. Soon my talents improved and I decided to move to the bustling metropolis of New York City. The entire city seemed to reflect me for at the time as I was a very lonely and depressed man. I would often look out into the cluttered courtyards from the window of my damp single roomed apartment and I found city life hectic compared to my uncles farmhouse in Cornwall.
It was a long time until I was able to find work as a magician and during that time I found myself falling farther and farther into dept. One day I returned home to find that a package had been delivered and inside it was a note from one Manfred C Walberg. In the letter it stated that I had been included in the old man’s will. I took a trip to the Walberg estate just north of the city, and when arrived I was told the news. Apparently the old man had died one night while walking; apparently he had suffered a heart attack and wasn’t found till two days later. Foul play was not expected. It wasn’t after a dinner in the old mans honor that his son Charles Walberg led me up stars to his study. There he gave me what was promised in the will. I was an old book, how old I cannot say, and it was leather bound and seemed to be written in what looked like ancient Hebrew. The son had no idea why his father would give this book to a complete stranger, but following the will he handed it over.
My money problems never seemed to disappear and in time I had no other option but to barrow money from unlikely sources. Soon I was given a job and in time I had hoped that I would be able to pay off my dept. I was a fool and the longer I waited the angrier my creditors got. It wasn’t long until they sent in there brutes to collect the money I had owed them. From now on I will state that what I am telling you is in fact true, and that I swear on the graves of father and my dear mother that I am no liar.
One lonesome night was I was walking home I was assaulted by a number of assailants who claimed to be working for one of my creditors. I managed to escape the encounter, and beaten and in pain I fled down the dark and sinister street. My assailants pursued and I found myself running for my very life. What happened next I can not explain, but I will try my best to describe to you. Closing my eyes I ran, and at sometime I tripped on some unseen object. Then I felt the air melt around me and seemed to feel the entire world dissolve away at my finger tips. Then I was alone, in a cold and dark place. When I opened my eyes I could not see anything save for the luminous ethereal forms of some horrible presence. This is where my nightmare began for then my eye caught the glowing circular shape on my right hand. When I turned my head down to look at the unknown shape I recoiled in shear horror. In all my life I will never see anything more horrified then that “thing” nestled tightly on my hand. For when I held my hand up into the unseen sky I saw a glowing and ever gazing eye. Not a human eye but a bestial and terrifying creature from the very bowls of hell itself. Then I must have fainted because I cannot remember what happened after that. Oddly enough I found myself in my lonely apartment. My clothing was torn and my head aced, but even stranger I noticed that my right hand was num to the point of beyond pain.
I concluded that the entire night must have been some horrible nightmare; I carried on normally without question. This brings me back to the old book I had received from the ancient business man. The thought of selling the book had crossed my mind on more than one occasion, and due to the severity of my current financial situation I decided to look for a buyer a soon as possible. The next morning I walk south to the Jewish district fallowing my hunch that the book was in fact Hebrew in origin. From one bookstore to anointer to another I searched for someone to rid me of this terrible burden placed on my shoulders. My journey led me into the poorer side of the district and to an old and depressing run down building. When I entered it the smell of pungent incense filled my nostrils. As I took it in breath by breath I was greeted by a shaggy old man. He was short and pale like a man who hasn’t seen the light of day for years. His finger nails were long and yellow, and he was bold and had a large bushy white beard.
He told me his name was Marconi and had lived in this building for a very long time. I handed him the book and he looked over it curiously. He told me its name, when it was written, its author and its nature. I asked him if he would buy it, but he refused. I remember him telling me that he may return to his shop whenever I wished and that he would do his best to find a buyer for me. In the meantime he said for me to hold onto the book and to keep it safe.
When I returned home my night was once again plagued by nightmares. I returned to the dark place and now the thing in my hand shone even brighter. Most horrific of all it told me terrible things. In some horrific unknown tongue it conversed with others of its kind. Giant slugs, nine legged spiders and great florescent jelly fish that floated through the air feasting on each other. The eye in my hand gibbered joyously as more and more of its snakelike body slithered out of the palm of my hand. Suddenly it screamed and scream unknown to words, and as it did my flesh gave way and my mind was blinded by pain.
In the morning I knew it was real for my entire body was covered in cuts. As if someone in the night had taken a razor to my skin. Almost instinctively I returned to the Jewish Ghetto, and the old man. Marconi knew I would come for he has seen such things before. He told me about the things that stalk my dreams that walk between life and death. They are the Void Reapers. They are Soulless ravenous creatures that feed on the souls of the dead, and walk the dreams of the mad. These creatures cannot exist in the material world without first traveling through the mind of a human hoist. I was nothing more than a gateway for this creature to use so that it may feed on all mankind. Marconi told me that destroying the host would in turn destroy the creature, but he was not in favor of letting me die for he was old and already had too much blood on his hands. The book he told me was the key for inside it was a passage that could save my life. There wasn’t much time for who knew when that thing would force itself into reality.
At eight forty six we held the ceremony. Marconi drew strange symbols on the floor in chalk, spilled blood on the walls and lit a censor of burning pungent herbs. I was afraid for my at that point and I put all trust in the senile old man I had never before met or known. The incantations went on for hours as the old man read page after rage of Hebrew text. After each verse he would swing the great censor in a clockwise motion. I had brought with me a revolver and I kept it at my side at all times. Even after Marconi had told me that nothing of this world could harm the beast, I still felt far more comfortable with it at my side. If I had known then what would happen next I wouldn’t of bothered the poor old man and of just done the honorable thing of killing myself. It wasn’t long until the thing became aware of my plans and it worked its way into my mind and ate at my thoughts. Oh God, that horrible thing and its infernal scream! All of a sudden I felt it squirming through my mind and into my hand. Marconi cried in terror as it tore from my hand leaving it nothing but a broken mesh of bone, flesh and blood. I cried out in pain as that thing squirmed on the chalk covered wooden floor. The thing on the floor wriggled and squirmed. From its snake like form its cyclopean eye opened, and its gaze brought only madness. Nine spider like legs perturbed from its sides and for the first time it stood. Poor Marconi must have been mad by the time it ripped him limb from limb with its scream. Soon his blood was added to the walls.
I quickly drew my revolver and shot the damned thing, but just as Marconi had told me my bullets simply went through its gelatinous form!
Desperately I toppled the near by oil lamp and the room ignited into a brilliant fireball of death and chaos. I fled into the streets bloody and screaming. If I was a smarter man I would have never gone to the police. They blamed me for what happened to poor Marconi and the destruction of the old book store. No one believed me and the judge was convinced I was surely mad and sentenced me to this unholy place. That is my story and I am sure you do not believe my mad ramblings, it doesn’t seem to matter now because you will see it soon. Every night when I fall asleep I see what it sees, hear what it hears and feel what it feels. It’s getting stronger with each passing day, and it spawns more of its kind and one day they will unleash themselves onto this arrogant world. I must apologize but I do not wish to be around for that, and I have decided to kill myself tonight. I am sorry but death seems the only way to free myself from the hideous cries of the Void Reaper.
Jesus Prime wrote:Good point. You sexy beast, you.
Mid-19th Century: Captain Obed Marsh explores Devil's Reef. Reputedly, he is searching for pirate treasure
