by Edward Grey
Though he started the night wondering why fate would take him down a path of negativity, he finally understood. For so long he'd been the light to so many in their darkest hour. Now, the universe had brought him to a moment where he would need to use that good nature to help millions, maybe even billions. It was a difficult choice for many reasons, but his virtue and moral made it clear as hell which decision he should make.
The weapon in Grant's hand burst with fury and he watched the man's head explode. He turned to Travis and smiled. "Stop all this, I've got a new adventure to tend to, and apparently I'm needed elsewhere."
"I will, brother." Travis said, though Grant could see that the decision he'd made seemed too much for Travis to handle.
Grant felt cold, and then a sickness stirred in his stomach. The universe was changing him, and the last thing he saw was Travis’ eyes widen with immense sadness. [Back to Contents]
The Warehouse
When I woke that afternoon bleary and disoriented, I had blood on my hands. I wish I meant that metaphorically, but there was a body on the floor and a knife in my hand that made it all too real.
I dropped the knife, trying hard to recall how I ended up in a warehouse with a dead body. I still had much of my memory, but I didn’t know what month it was or even remember the last thing I did.
The man on the floor was bound at the wrists, ankles, and mouth. I thought by studying his face I could jolt my memory, so I leaned closer to him.
After too long I had to look away; not because I didn’t recognize him, but because I could no longer stare at the rotting corpse. He must have been dead some time for his skin was pale and balmy, and his eyes were clouded with creamy cataracts.
I turned my attention to my hands. The blood was sticky, and no matter how hard I swabbed it with my jeans, it was too dry to come off.
The possibility that I murdered someone terrified me. The soft hairs on the back of my neck raised and my skin felt icy. I probably looked sicklier and paler than the dead man.
I wasn't a murderer, however, and that was the only thing keeping me from passing out. I lived a normal life and worked in a boring office where the highlight of my day was pouring coffee.
I glanced down at the knife I dropped, and my stomach suddenly started twisting into tight painful knots. The blade was an exact match from a set I kept in the kitchen.
If it was just any knife with a black handle, I could have deluded myself to believe it was anyone's, but the hilt had a special red inlay. My sister bought them in Japan and gave them to me as a gift. Aside from the blood on my hands, the knife was now further evidence that I hurt someone.
As I sat there, trying to figure out what happened, it suddenly dawned on me that I would surely be arrested if someone saw me there. I looked around and at the far end of the large warehouse I saw a small truck.
The first thing I did was check my own pockets. I was disappointed, yet not surprised, that I didn’t find any keys.
It sickened me to consider rifling through the clothes of a corpse, but it was possible he had the keys on him. I couldn't risk ignoring the search.
Although I wasn't sure how bodies decomposed after death, I was still worried the same juicy liquid buildup on his face was also seeping through the pocket. To avoid getting any of it on my hand, I poked the outside of his jeans. When my finger struck something hard, I felt like I won the lottery.
Fighting nausea, I reached into the pocket with only two fingers. The first item wasn't a set of keys, but a hard crumpled paper. I pulled it out and examined it.
It was a photograph of my sister wearing a soft red sundress. In her hands was a bouquet of sunflowers. It was a picture I took on her twentieth birthday.
At first, I wondered why he would have a photo of my sister. Then, like bulls rushing the streets of Spain, memories trampled through my mind's eye.
My heart was pounding so hard that I felt it swell in my ears. Like the waves of an ocean, the blood crashed against my eardrum.
Piece by piece I recalled my sister's murder and the trial of the man on the floor. I remembered how his smile and smooth talk enchanted the jury, and how they unanimously set him free.
As I stood and backed away from him, a man walked through the warehouse door. He tossed a set of keys my way and said, "Are you finished?"
"He's dead."
"Good." He said, "Now get out of here; we'll clean this mess."
I looked down at the keys and said, "These are for?"
"The truck. Now leave."
"Thank you." I said, and made my way home.
Later that evening, I washed my hands and tucked my kids into bed. That night, I went to bed with blood on my hands, and I was satisfied. [Back to Contents]
City of Demons
I haven’t been the same since the creature first appeared. In fact, had I stayed in my home, I could have avoided so much of the beginning of it all.
That morning, I left my cozy studio apartment and was sauntering down the hallway when I decided to stop and check the bulletin board for anything interesting. There was an advertisement for a moving-out sale at one of the units on the tenth floor. Though I didn’t normally bother with these neighborly events, I was having a good morning and decided to stop by to see the items they had to offer.
After riding the soft creaks and squeals of the poorly maintained elevator to the top floor, I made my way to 1014-A. Although the sale started no more than two hours previous to my arrival, most of everything was sold.
It would have been a complete waste of my time had I not seen Lisa from 278-B looking through some maternal clothing. I always had a thing for her, but was always too chicken to ask her to dinner. Looking back to that day in my life, I’m glad I never did.
When she glanced up and saw me looking at her, I panicked and smiled. I expected her to return the gesture, but instead she quickly shied away. She might have been as nervous as I was about the eye contact, but I suspected it because of my face. People have told me in the past that I have an amazing smile, but they have also informed me of my panicked version as well. They often liken it to the excessively generous grin portrayed by Jack Nicholson in The Shining.
My lips faltered and I decided that it would not be in my best interest to talk to her after giving her my impression of a psychotic serial killer. So I turned and walked briskly back to the elevator.
I pressed the button to call the car and waited. I cringed with each squeal the belts made as it fought gravity to the tenth floor. Out of habit, I wanted to press it again, but I thought if I did, the elevator might explode. Therefore, I quietly tapped my foot, and waited for my chance to ride The Tower of Terror.
A moment passed, and a man walked up and waited with me. I gently and nonchalantly looked up at the ceiling, but was actually looking up at the giant’s face to see if I recognized him. When I saw that his eyes were crazed, tattoos painted his skin with different images of skulls, and he had at least thirty piercings from here to there, I squeezed my eyes shut and performed an on-demand yawn. However, I suddenly choked and coughed my yawn into submission when I started to wonder if hepatitis could be transferred from breathing the same air as him. I immediately felt embarrassed when I realized I was overreacting.
When the car arrived, the doors slid open. I allowed the biker version of Paul Bunyan to enter first, and then I followed. Though I would have tucked myself into the corner of the elevator anyway, he was so big I didn’t have a choice.
He pressed the first floor button, and then looked down at me and said, “What floor, kid?”
“Uh, three please.”
As the doors started to close, I watched Lisa hurry down the hallway calling to us, “Wait!”
I was about to step forward and block the door, but the man-bull got there first. I quickly moved out of the way and quietly sunk back into my corner. When she somehow managed to pass him, he removed his foot and allowed the doors to close.
To keep my mind off the fact that there
was surely too much weight in the elevator for safety, I peeked at Lisa. While she anxiously watched the lighted numbers descend at the top of the door, I couldn’t help but notice that something seemed to be wrong with her. Before, she was a wonderful sight, but now she looked worn and agitated. Dark purple, blue, and red encircled her eyes, and her skin was getting paler by the second. I’d never seen someone in labor, but that was my first thought.
As the elevator approached the midway between the fourth and fifth floors, the florescent lights began to flicker, and then the car made a hard stop. I quickly grabbed the rail and somehow managed to grab Lisa’s arm to keep us stable. Biker Paul wasn’t so lucky and hit the floor with a loud thud, which also caused the entire elevator to shake.
It wasn’t until the excitement of the broken down elevator was over that I realized her skin was icy and clammy. It seemed almost too cold for her to be alive, or at least awake and functioning. I let go, and then furrowed my brow.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Oh god, it’s happening!” She said.
“What?” I said, “What’s happening?”
She looked at me with eyes that bled tears of remorse and said, “I’m so sorry.”
Lisa fell to her knees and tilted her head back. As she began to utter a soft unintelligible prayer—or what I assumed to be a prayer—she closed her eyes and folded her hands together.
As I listened closely to her, I wondered what kind of dialect she was speaking. It was different to me, sure, but in those days there were so many diverse faiths from all over the world that I didn’t readily notice it was not of this world.
“Lady, just hang on. We’ll be out of here soon.” Biker Paul said, and then to me, “Got a phone, man?”
“Yes.”
He instantly gave me a look that worked as both intimidation and to tell me to get with it. I quickly fished my cell from my jeans and unfolded the ancient handset. I tried to dial 9-1-1 but the call failed and the phone blinked no service across the top of the LCD screen. I sighed.
“Cheap phone.” I said, and then laughed nervously.
The man huffed and turned to the red emergency phone. When he pulled it out, the cord wasn’t even attached to the line. Even though the moment was coming dangerously close to being bad, I laughed, but managed to stifle most of it. I couldn’t help thinking that his brutish size pulled the phone from the wall and broke it.
As precious seconds slipped away, Lisa started to appear more and more dilapidated. A thick layer of sweat had formed on her skin, and her golden hair was plastered to her body. Though babies arrived whenever they wanted, I hoped she could hold off until maintenance reset the elevator.
I flipped my phone open again just to be sure there was no signal, and I was awarded with the unfortunate knowledge that we were out of luck. I looked at Lisa to apologize for my terrible phone service, and was alarmed to see that she had fallen to the floor. Her eyes had rolled back and she was shaking so violently that it was as if her body was the epicenter of a massive earthquake. For a moment she screamed hoarsely, but then fell silent and still.
Biker Paul knelt down and shook her arm, “Dude, I don’t think she’s breathing.”
“Are you sure?” I said as I squeezed between him and the wall.
I grabbed her wrist to check her pulse, and let go immediately. She was dead. I stood and backed away from her. The man did the same, and as I watched him, his face twisted with an incredible kind of fear that you might only find in a horror flick. He pointed at her with a trembling hand.
When I looked back at Lisa, I squealed and fell against the wall with no doubt the same terrified look on my face. At her abdomen, her dress writhed and wiggled as if her baby was alive and trying to break free of its tomb. Blood began to seep through the cloth, and then a moment later, something quick and agile ran out from under the dress.
The creature stopped in the middle of the elevator, and watched us like a lion might watch its prey. It was neither baby nor animal, but definitely some kind of creature. Its skin was black and oily as if made of tar. The spine was sharp and jagged, forcing the skin to a point at each vertebra. The eyes were fully silver and laced with a red gummy residue.
It let out a shriek, an ear piercing warning that it probably intended to kill us. Paul raced for the door and tried to pry it open with his hands. He was making progress, but then the creature leapt at him. It crawled up his back and stopped at his neck. He tried to reach for it, but he was so muscular that he was unable to reach the tiny beast. Soon, his clothes wetted with blood and he stopped screaming for help. As his massive body fell to the floor, the creature jumped off him.
It appeared to be studying me, waiting for the right moment to strike. Then, it was given the opportunity when I was startled that the elevator began to move again. It took advantage of the moment, and ran towards me.
Though I was still gripped with an uncanny fear, I managed to push my leg out in a series of frantic kicks. I probably looked like I was performing a terrible coked out version of the hokey-pokey, but my boogie paid off when my foot landed hard against its body. The creature fell back and growled with anger.
When the elevator came to a soft stop at the third floor, the doors slipped open. The demon snarled at me, chuffed, and then ran out into the hallway. I remained frozen against the wall until its high-pitch laugh dissolved into the distance. I wasn’t sure why it stopped attacking me, but I was thankful that it was no longer in there with me.
I looked at the aftermath. Though I generally would have felt a snake wriggling and swimming in my stomach urging me to purge my guts, I was so awestruck by the situation that I was able to keep breakfast from painting the walls.
I needed to do something. I knew I couldn’t pursue the demon and dance it to death, so my only other option was to hide in my apartment and call someone. However, I couldn’t think of a single person or entity that would believe my story.
As I carefully stepped over the bodies to make my way home, the woman started to twitch. I froze and watched as her hand tightened into a fist. A second later it relaxed, and her eyes shot open. They were no longer the elegant sapphire that I once adored, but now seemed to be replaced with large silver bearings. The very same eyes as the creature that escaped from her body.
A deep growl erupted from her throat that was so dark and sinister I was startled back into reality. I made my way towards the door, and she tried to grab for my leg. Thankfully, I dodged the attack and rushed down the corridor.
After digging through my pocket and having a small tug of war with my keys, I looked back to see the woman stand up. She had a shrill laughter that echoed through the hall, and it forced a chill to climb the rungs of my spine.
When I found the right key, I sighed with relief and let myself in. I slammed the door shut and engaged the deadbolt. For good measure, I quickly wrestled my old filthy couch to the door, blocking any future entry. I then climbed onto the cushions and peeked through the eyehole.
The woman stood in the hallway for a moment. She seemed confused, and looked around as if wondering where I had gone. Then, she laughed again and ran towards the stairwell. She tore the door open and disappeared down the steps.
I locked myself in that apartment for several weeks, observing the world from the window. Society seemed to collapse as people one by one tore each other apart only to later rise with silver eyes. Eventually, military personnel blocked off my section of the city, leaving a few of us survivors to fend for ourselves. I knew I would need to leave my home sooner or later and make a break for the safety of the untainted world, but with hundreds—maybe even thousands—of dangerous people walking the streets, I certainly had pure apprehension working against me. [Back to Contents]
The Sins of the Soul
1
Adam’s head was pounding and his body ached as if he’d been drinking all night. His eyes were difficult to open, glazed shut by dry tears. When he finally opened them, the street lamp pouring th
rough his windshield burned his eyes. It made his headache worse, and assured him that he’d probably consumed several cocktails earlier in the night.
He moved his seat forward and into the upright position, and then he peered through the driver’s side window. The dense silver fog only allowed him to see two, maybe three feet into the night, so he couldn’t tell where he was at. However, he suspected he drove there, so it had to have been somewhere with which he was familiar.
When he reached down to turn his car on, the keys were missing from the ignition. He checked the center console, glove box, and the small pouch on the door. He found an empty gum wrapper, assorted change, and miscellaneous receipts, but the keys were not among them. Surely they had to be somewhere, unless he truly did drink too much and someone decided to take his keys to keep him from driving in his condition.
He grabbed his leather jacket from the back seat, and after struggling to put it on in the small cockpit, he opened the door and stepped into the misty night.
Without keys, he locked the car from the inside and closed the door. He reached into his pocket to check his cell for the time, but it wasn’t there. He padded his other pocket and the ones on his jacket. He sighed, looked into his car, and found it sitting in the cup holder near the shifter.
“Shit.”
Adam was generally on top of things and always organized unless he had downed a few too many. It was times like these that he found himself slipping into a different place, one in which he was never himself. This seemed like one of those days where he was just going to have to suck it up and deal with the situation in which he’d landed himself.
He could’ve waited until someone happened by to help, but he had a feeling it was too late for anyone to be out and about. Besides, if an officer pulled up, they would likely arrest him for being drunk in public. While he didn’t feel intoxicated, he was surely still going to blow over the legal limit.