by Tim Miller
"You better put me down. Stop this craziness right now Dusty. I'm warning you."
"I'm done with your warnings. I'm not your sock puppet anymore."
Chapter 16
Once Dusty had Mr. Socky in the center of the clearing, he threw him to the ground. The toy struggled beneath his grip, but he was able to keep him down. Reaching into his pocket, Dusty removed a box cutter and began slicing down the center of Mr. Socky's chest. Instead of white cotton or stuffing, the stuffing was red and gel like. He dug through the sludge and ooze and began pulling things out.
He assumed they were organs though they didn't look like human organs. They were just red, gelatinous pieces of tissue. He tossed each piece aside as Mr. Socky screamed and struggled. Dusty wasn't even sure what he was doing or if this would kill the doll, but he had to try something. He was about to start cutting the toy's head off when he heard footsteps approaching.
As he turned, he saw his former self was running toward him waving the machete over his head. Dusty dove out of the way and rolled while holding onto the box cutter.
"What have you done?" his former self screamed, kneeling over Mr. Socky and trying to put him back together. The toy sat up on its own and began stuffing his organs back inside himself.
"You need to stop listening to it!" he yelled at his former self. "He's not your friend. None of this is what it seems."
"Shut the fuck up!" his former self yelled as he charged him again. Dusty was too slow to get much further away. He wasn't even sure how his former self found him out here, but nothing in this new world made any sense.
"Dude! Listen to me!" Dusty yelled as his former self began punching him in the face repeatedly. He mounted him like an MMA fighter doing ground and pound; raining blow after blow on his face and arms. Dusty put an arm up to try to shield himself, but it wasn't doing much good. He finally wiggled the other arm free enough to slice is former self in the leg with the box cutter. His former self screamed as Dusty used the distraction to slide out from under him and try running away.
His former self grabbed him by the ankle, tripping him up. He began pulling on his pant leg, dragging him toward himself.
"Listen! I'm you! Ok! You're Dusty and I'm Dusty!" he yelled trying to do whatever he could to save himself.
"Shut the fuck up freak!"
"It's true. That toy is Mr. Socky. We got him in a thrift store when we were seven. He made us kill one of our friends with a big stick! Our dad's name is Dave, and he picked us up from jail when we got out. Our mom left after we got arrested."
His former self stopped and looked at him confused.
"How do you know all that?"
"I told you. I'm you. I'm stuck in this body."
"Why would I be stuck in a grocery clerk's body?"
"This is hell, man. We're dead. We're both dead. You, I, or we really did kill all these people. You'll kill our dad later today. You'll kill a few more people before getting caught and being executed for it. We wake up here, in hell, reliving our crimes forever. Part of it is coming back as one of our victims, every single time. You'll be inside the old lady jogger we killed. I felt it man. I felt you raping her, stabbing her, everything. Same with Jenny, and now the grocery store. I somehow managed to take control of the host body and get out of there. Don't ask me how, but I can't die and wake up in another body to live through my own crimes again."
His former self looked confused as he considered it.
"Don't listen to him Dusty," Mr. Socky said. "He's full of shit. I'm your friend. You don't even know this guy!"
"He's not our friend. All he does is cause trouble. He's like the fucking devil man. I haven't figured it all out yet, but he's somehow behind all this."
"He's just a sock monkey," his former self said.
"He fucking talks! How many sock monkeys walk and talk? We should have our fucking heads examined for even entertaining anything he ever said!"
"Ok, I might believe you. When is my birthday?"
"June twenty forth. Our last one at home was turning seven. We got some GI Joes, and mom made a chocolate cake," Dusty explained.
"OK."
"When you killed the jogger. You kept apologizing saying you were sorry. Then you stabbed her in the pussy until it was just a huge bloody hole. I saw it, did it, and felt it all at different times. When we were arrested, they didn't even pin that one on us. So how did I know?"
"So what do we do?" His former self asked, finally coming around it seemed.
"Dusty, I'm warning you," Mr. Socky said. "You do not want to cross me."
"I'm not sure. I think if we can kill him it will somehow break the cycle."
"And do what? This is hell you said. Will we go to heaven?"
"I honestly don't know. One thing I'm sure of is that it all comes back to him. The killings all trace back to him."
His former self turned to Mr. Socky and took a few steps toward him.
"Dusty, hey. What are ya doin' buddy?" Mr. Socky said. "I told you, you don't want to do this. Just finish him off and let's get out of here."
"What if he's right? What if you're the one behind all this? What if I kill you, and that makes everything all good again?"
"It won't I promise you. Come on. I'm your pal."
His former self lunged at the toy with the machete but missed when it dove out of the way. Mr. Socky stood, but as he stood, he grew taller. Still in the form of a sock monkey, but he was now over six feet tall. His black eyes began to glow. They were still black but somehow illuminated. His face protruded into a long snout with huge sharp teeth coming from them. His hands turned into long, sharp claws. As the new Mr. Socky stood, he faced the two as his smile turned into a snarl.
"Ok boys," he said. "Don't say I didn't warn you!"
Chapter 17
"What the fuck?" Dusty yelled as his former self stood there frozen. He grabbed his former self's arm and screamed. "Let's go, get the fuck out of here!"
Mr. Socky ran toward them, his huge fangs drooling as they climbed into the car. Dusty started the engine and peeled away, but Mr. Socky leaped and landed on the roof. He had to have jumped thirty feet in the air. Dusty had no idea what Mr. Socky had turned into but it was terrifying. Dusty weaved back and forth trying to shake Mr. Socky but his claws were embedded in the roof.
"What the hell is that thing?" Dusty's former self yelled.
"Beats the shit out of me!"
"Get it off us!"
"No shit! What do you think I'm trying to do?"
He sped up and headed down the gravel trail. The road narrowed with low hanging branches. Dusty raced through hoping to scrape Mr. Socky off the car but that didn't work either. As they went around a sharp curve, Dusty lost control as the car spun out, hitting a nearby tree. Both Dusty's got out and ran in opposite directions. They hadn't planned that but figured at least one of them had a chance at survival.
Dusty ran as fast as he could, despite the branches and bushes slapping against his face and skin, whipping him each time. He could hear Mr. Socky closing in on him, taunting him as he gave chase.
"Come on Dusty! I told you we were best pals forever!" Mr. Socky growled. "Don't you want to be my pal? Hahaha. I promise it will hurt a lot!"
He reached a small cabin and ran inside. Dusty had no idea if anyone was inside and didn't care. It looked abandoned, but he couldn't run through the woods forever. Part of him hoped if he locked himself up in there, maybe Mr. Socky would go after his former self. He slammed the door shut and slid the two by four into place, bracing the door. He ran to the back of the cabin and secured that door as well. Outside Mr. Socky began pounding on the door, almost knocking it off its hinges with the powerful blows.
"Come on Dusty! Come out, come out wherever you are! Haha! I know where you are! You think a little wooden cabin can keep me out? You can't hide from me! I own you buddy-boy!" Mr. Socky screamed. His voice didn't sound like the casual voice from before. Now it was a deep, guttural sound that made Dusty's skin crawl each time he spoke.
Dusty looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, but there was nothing immediately handy. In the corner was a broken ax handle. He picked it up and held it as if he were ready to hit a baseball. Suddenly, the banging stopped. After waiting several minutes, he wanted to look outside to see if Mr. Socky was gone or just fucking with him.
He walked toward one of the boarded windows and looked out through one of the cracks, but saw nothing. After waiting and waiting for any sign that Mr. Socky was lying in wait, he slowly slid the wood beam from behind the door and peeked outside. There was no sign of Mr. Socky. He stepped out carefully, but thankfully nothing jumped on him. Mr. Socky must have gone on the hunt for his former self. Though, he wondered what would happen if Mr. Socky did kill him since he was already dead. He would likely wake up in the body of another victim. No telling if he could take control of that one or not.
Either way, he'd rather just get away in this body and take his chances. He started back through the woods when he heard footsteps coming. Shit! He ducked into some bushes as the figure approached. It didn't sound loud or clumsy like Mr. Socky, nor was it moving as fast. Soon, he saw who it was. It was his former self. Dusty stepped out of the bushes.
"What are you doing?" he asked his former self.
"Looking for you," his former self said.
"Where is Mr. Socky?"
"I don't know. He was chasing you, so I circled back to the car and got the machete and came back this way. Were you in the cabin?"
"I was for a little bit, but he left," Dusty said.
"Well, shit."
"What do we do?" Dusty asked.
"Fuck if I know. We need to get out of these woods."
Dusty nodded as they traced their steps back to the car with no sign of Mr. Socky. The car wasn't drivable, but they followed the road back to the clearing where they saw him. Mr. Socky was standing in the middle of the trail waiting. He appeared to have gotten bigger since he'd changed. However, Dusty hadn't looked that closely at him last time since he was running.
"End of the road boys," Mr. Socky said. "We can end this the easy way, you can let your former self just cut you down now and get on with the rest of his tasks. You'll wake up in another body, and we just keep going."
That option didn't appeal to Dusty at all.
"Or," Mr. Socky continued. "I can rip your head off and swallow you one piece at a time. At which point you'll wake up in a real hell being endlessly burned alive, feeling your flesh pop, melt, and bubble without every dying. You'll feel that for all eternity."
Dusty didn't like option B either. Then the idea hit him. He wasn't sure if it would work or not. On the surface, it seemed crazy; yet, made perfect sense. He wasn't sure what would happen, but he had to try it. There were no other options. Attacking Mr. Socky would lead to instant death. Dusty reached down and quickly grabbed the machete from his former self's hand. His former self looked at him as Dusty raised the machete and brought it down at an angle, hitting his former self in the neck. His former self tumbled to the ground as blood gushed from the wound. His old body looking up at himself with a look of both confusion and hurt as he brought the machete down again.
"No!" Mr. Socky screamed as he charged them. With one more swing, the machete cut through, dislodging the head from the body. It was being held in place by a single piece of flesh as it rolled to the side. Blood oozing from the stump. Dusty looked up as Mr. Socky lunged at him. Before Mr. Socky reached him, everything exploded with a flash as bright as a nuclear explosion. The bright white light blinded him as everything vanished before going black.
Chapter 18
The thrift store was seven-year-old Dusty's favorite place. Most of his clothes came from there. So, every month his mom brought him in to get deals on clothes. Dusty didn't care about the clothes, however. For him, the thrift store was a treasure trove of toys, gadgets, and other discarded items. As soon as they stepped inside he immediately ran to the toy aisle to see what goodies awaited him. Although, it feels like he's thought this before. All of it felt strangely familiar, but he ignored it. He had toys to check out.
There was a plastic fire helmet, but he already had one of those. There was a set of binoculars. Those looked real, and they were heavy. He picked them up, looking through the lenses. He played with the adjustments, but everything stayed blurry, so he tossed them aside. There were some action figures he didn't recognize, and then he saw it.
The plush sock monkey was almost as big as he was. Its red-lipped smile was at his eye level as he reached up and touched it. For a second, he thought the toy said his name, but that wasn't possible. Sock monkeys couldn't talk, could they? This all felt too familiar, but he couldn't put a finger on why. The toy was super soft as he picked it up, hugging it. Its black button eyes stared at him as he looked it over.
He picked it up and stared into those black eyes. As he held the doll, the weirdest feeling came over him. It was both a feeling of dread and fear. Once again, it was all familiar, but he couldn't place it. He felt as if he'd owned the doll at one point, but he'd never had a sock monkey that size before. Either way, something didn't feel right. Just holding the doll almost gave him a cold chill. Placing the doll back on the shelf, he walked over and found a remote controlled robot, it didn't have any batteries, but it sure looked cool.
Dusty picked up the toy and ran to his mom to show her. It was only a couple dollars, so he hoped she'd buy it for him. He skipped away to his mom who did agree to buy him the robot. Dusty went home that day and grew up without ever harming anyone.
However, on the shelf in the thrift store, the sock monkey sat there until another little boy came up and saw him. This boy thought it was the coolest toy ever cheap! After some begging to his mom, he took the toy home and gave it a name. The toy's name was Mister Socky. Every owner in every home always names him Mister Socky. They all go through the same journey of murder, chaos, death, and mayhem. The boy's fate was sealed once he picked up Mister Socky. He would spend eternity killing and being killed, reliving it over and over. It was always the same for each new owner. Except for Dusty, Dusty was the only one to escape, and he doesn't even know it.
The End
About the Author
Tim began writing at a very young age. Even in grade school he'd sit around with his notebook, writing stories for himself and his friends.
As an adult, Tim's writings have evolved into darker realms. He released his first horror novel, "The Hand of God" in 2011. Since then his books have become progressively more violent and gory. With the release of "Family Night" in 2013, Tim had moved into the world of extreme horror where he continues to push the boundaries of human suffering.
Tim is now an international best seller as well. His book, "Hell, Texas" has recently ranked high on Amazon sales charges since its release in Germany under German publisher, Festa-Verlag.
Tim is very active on social media and loves interacting with his readers. You can find him at his website at http://timmiller.org
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