|
Writer
Join Date: Jun 2003
Location: On the outside, Looking in
Posts: 30
|
Demon Seed
This is a story I began a loooong time ago, check it out if you will and hopefully you can answer this question; Should I finish it?
Chapter One : Shattered Realism
It began with the power. 2158 AD. It started
innocently enough, the lights and appliance power
would occasionally flicker, inciting little more
than annoyance among the inhabitants of the
apartment complex. "There are hundreds of reserve
generators to keep the power going" they would
complain "why is the power coming in and out!". A
few days afterward the power went out for good. No
one could give any explanation other than stating
the fact that there must be a rational one. As
for me, I was concerned, but in a detached "why
isn't my stereo working kind of way", the usual
teen response. I stopped worrying after i found a
battery powered radio in the storage closet, hey
no school, I was fine with that.
After the power was out for a week, things
began to get weird. It started with rumors of
shadowy figures in the halls at night. Most of
these were disspelled immediately by the
no-nonsense mothers and fathers (mine especially).
Then....people began to dissapear.
It began with the Janitor and Apartment Handyman
Bill Clark. A grumpy,nervous old man who would
never answer a direct question, his constant
mumbling was an annoyance to the Tenants, the only
reason he was allowed to keep his job was his
inate ability to fix almost anything within a
half-an-hour span. He was called to fix a
hike-chair issue and never arrived. The
complainee went to his apartment to address his
complaint directly but found it empty. Another
call to his pager attained the same results. He
did not return, and after 3 weeks of no
communication from Bill, his apartment was cleaned
out, and his job up for grabs.
Bill's disappearance didn't affect the
community in a very harsh way, most said he
couldn't stand all the calls for his services and
just left. We immediately dissmissed it. Then
the disappearances started anew. People we really
knew and for some, loved began to disappear at a
frightening rate. People near the scene reported
hearing no sound at the time, just silence. After
a few more disappearances, our family decided to
leave, we payed the last weeks rent and and packed
to leave for our Uncle's in Vermont. This would
be our last night in New York. I was 16.
I woke in the middle of the night to the sound
of diesel engines. Getting out of bed, i walked to
my window overlooking the street. Trucks awaited
my eyes. Trucks spanning in all directions down
the street. The color of stainless steel they
drove steadily in a line past our house in 2 rows
they drove steadily onward. Finally they stopped.
Men jumped out of the front, dressed in black
Jumpsuits, white helmets and carrying guns. They
looked nervous. Repeatedly starind at the steel
watches on their wrists and mumbling incoherently
into their little black radios, darting their
heads from one side of the street to the other.
Finally all of them seemed to speak at once into
their 2 ways. And ran toward the buildings
corrosponding with their trucks. I could hear the
doors opening below and shouts of the men, "Wake
Up!" or "Get Up Now! Move! Move!". Hundreds of
people began pouring into the street, still groggy
and partially unaware of their surroundings. In
their sleep wear they waited for the buildings to
be evacuated.
I heard my mother calling my name, "chris!"
she called in her "I don't know whats going on and
i'm worried" voice. I grabbed a jar full of my
hard earned cash, some jeans, a copy of Watership
Down By Richard Adams for some light reading, both
sides of the book torn off so you couldn't tell
and a flashlight and walked down to the kitchen.
My family was waiting there, wide awake in
spite of the late hour, my two sisters, Jessica
and Mickala in sweatshirts and sweatpants rubbing
their eyes and asking where they were going. My
parents making sure they had everything they
needed, credit cards, loose change, checkbooks and
clothes. In a few minutes we heard footsteps
heavely trodding on the carpetless floors outside
of our door and the sound of the knob turning
quickly as one of the men came in and hurried us
down the 3 flights of stairs into the chaos below.
The dark streets, illuminated ony by the lights
installed on the trucks were a chaotic jumble of
men and women in their sleepwear, looking for
family members or trying to console their children
as they were loaded onto their corrosponding
trucks. My mother and father yelled over the noise
that we needed to stick together through the
crowds. I stayed close. Eventually the men got to
us and filed us to our truck, when we got there
they found that they could only fit 4. They got my
family in and started to direct me to the truck
behind us, my mother called out frantically to
find them when our trucks stopped wherever we were
going. I yelled back that i would and not to
worry.
The truck i was to board was almost filled,
they had to shove me in amongst total strangers. I
did what i could to find airspace to breathe as
the doors began to close. I looked around, the
interior of the trucks was a simple steel box with
several identically colored steel benches bolted
in. All the benches were full of people, some
crying, some consoling those that were, and some
silently contemplating their position. The doors
were almost shut when the street behind us was
illuminated with the flash of a sudden explosion.
Bits of metal and debris floated by as the wind
caused by it blew past us.
The men in black panicked, forgetting to shut
the door properly they ran to the front of the
truck, i heard the doors slam as the engine revved
beneath my feet, i grabbed a nearby iron bar as
the truck lurched forward and to the right,
throwing many off balance, some off their feet all
together. the scene began to receed as the truck
accelerated. Another explosion, closer to our
truck illuminated the streets once again. Holding
on for dear life, the trucks doors wide open, I
was terrified.
Chapter 2 : Lone
Many more trucks sped by us, the screams of
their passengers like a siren, rising, then
receeding. We left the city limits at around 70
miles per hour and began crossing the Talwart
bridge, a large cable bridge stretching over the
Maine strait. More screams eminated from behind
me, I looked to see another truck, but something
was different about this one, it was swerving
crazily as if it were possesed speeding toward us
at a manic pace. I cried out as it reached just to
the side of us, the windshield and windows were
red. Blood red. Dripping down the glass. I
screamed, the truck swerved out of my view, I
heard screeching tires and my truck began to tip.
I held on as long as possible as the truck was
thrown on it's side, leaving me hanging like a kid
on the Monkey bars. The truck was still sliding I
realized, and at the edge of my vision i could see
the edge of the bridge getting closer. The screams
of the other inhabitants of the truck echoed into
the air as I shut my eyes. And Jumped.
I hit the ground on my back, rolling, the
wind knocked completely out of me as i rolled to a
stop, the pain was unbearable. Looking up I saw
the truck, still sliding, the faces of those still
in the truck a masque of horror and despair as
their lives were thrown off into a 150 foot drop.
Their screams anew could have shattered the most
callous of hearts. I began to cry, laying there as
the surviving trucks rushed past me. I was past
caring anymore, i wanted to be comforted, but i
was alone.
Chapter 3: Aftermath
I opened my eyes. It was dawn, but the sun
was eclipsed under a veil of dark clouds with no
forseeable break. I had fallen asleep there on the
bridge. I attempted to get up, and my back
reminded me of my fall. I grimaced as the pain
returned, but managed to get up and hobble over to
a loose tire, probably from the other truck, and
sit down. I contemplated my situation. I needed
to find some civilization, food and shelter. It
was a good 50 miles to the next town over, Vernon,
I needed a way to get there. I had to go back to
Beleir, where I came from, to find some method of
transportation to the next town. The problem was
i didn't know what was back there to have us
evacuated. I shuddered.
After a while i got up and began the trek
back into Beleir. There was a small breeze at my
face, it was a cool reassuring dose of reality,
and made me feel the better for it. Looking ahead
the city loomed over me like a shadow, it was
dead. But the killer for all I knew could still
be inside. It had achieved an Idol like status in
my mind, a dark monolith casting a cursed shadow
over the world. But I had to keep going. This
ghost town, for the time being, was all I had.
It took quite a while before I made it back
to the city limits, the buildings, now empty
radiated the desolation of this metal wasteland.
It was late, the moon casting a glow like an evil
version of the sun, beckoning to the shadows to be
cast everywhere while it's light comforted
nothing. I began to run towards the familiar
facade of the apartment, my sense of security
gone, everything looming at me, every sound
magnified and turned horrible in my mind. My
sneakers pounding on the pavement, I reached the
door and rushed inside.
Inside I felt somewhat better, the feeling
of inescapable danger at every turn had receeded
to a dull nervousness. I ascended the stairs to my
apartment, 87. The sound of my ascension echoed
through the empty stairwell, a sound that to me at
the time, could wake the dead. I came to the top
flight, the hall, while darker in contrast above
me, gave me a sense of familiarity.
Like the cave to a bear in need of shelter from
the rain. Walking briskly down the hall, still a
bit nervous but regaining my stability, I walked
to my open apartment door and walked straight in.
It was pitch black in here, but i knew my
own living room enough to avoid most of the
objects, as I fumbled blindly around and into the
kitchen, equally dark. Walking to my left I
reached under the familiar counter and pulled out
the first drawer. Felling into the drawer with my
hands, I was finally able to produce the yellow
bic lighter my dad used so often, as well as a
scented candle, cinnamon. After some effort I
managed to light the wick to the candle, place the
yellow bic into my jean pocket, and turn towards
the hall.
The dim light of the small candle let the
shadows once hiding out into plain view, tricking
ones vision and torturing the mind with fear. It
was a dull fear, slowly edging into my
conciousness. I began to tremble, something was
not right. The air was growing colder, why? The
draft was coming from the left of me, the
bathroom. The simple wooden door and gleaming
brass handle seemed able to jump out at me,
capable of all the unspeakable evils in the world.
I hesitated, I was scared out of my mind. What if
I just left here and never came back? I began to
think. I shook my head, "It's just a fucking
bathroom" I told myself. Reaching out to the
doorknob I found it cold to the touch. Drawing
breath sharply I turned the knob and pushed the
door in.
The air was freezing. Inside the bathroom,
the shower curtains of Blue-Green, the solitary
porcelin sink with a simple faucet, the green
rug-covered toilet, all of this should have been
familiar and welcoming. It wasn't. The Brown rug
was covered with frost and gleamed, the mirror and
sink equally covered with frost, all darkness. It
was an alien landscape, barren and unfamiliar. And
was it cold. Freezing cold -10 degrees cold. There
were no windows in the bathroom, no way for any
wind or chill to get in. Then I realized
something. We didn't have a Brown Rug in our
Bathroom.
Chapter4: Dawning
Backing up against the door I stared at the
brown, rug-thing, whatever it was, it hadn't been
there this morning and it hadn't been so damn
cold. What was going on? Slowly I shuffled over to
it and bent down to inspect it, at the same time
keeping my distance. It looked like some frozen
liquid that hadn't had a chance to spread out. I
brought the candle closer to it, to examine it.
That's when I heard a cracking sound, like the ice
on a pond cracking apart. The thing was moving.
Slowly itbegan to undulate, shaking off the ice
and frost, my heart began to skip as I backed away
hurriedly, almost extiguishing the candle in my
haste. Then, the liquid stopped moving, almost
instantly. I suddenly wanted to be out of that
bathroom. Stumbling towards the door I reached the
cold, brass knob. The noise began again, more
urgent this time. I looked behind me slowly,
hoping ferverently I was dreaming.
The rug, liquid thing was completely free
of the ice that had encased it, it now shined in
the candle light as the middle of the puddle began
to bulge. taking a circular shape, the bulge began
to rise. To my horror it began to take the shape
of a human head. Crying out, I savagely twisted
the knob and yanked the door wide open, warm air
rushed in as I rushed out at equal speed. Turning
around to shut the door I caught a glimpse of the
horrible form taking shape within, that form had
the visage of Bill Clark, as if covered in mud.
His eyes, once bright and hawkish, now empty
sockets of nothing.
__________________
I cant wait for someone to hear me.
And wait for someone to touch me.
And wait forever to be told.
I'm forever alone.
|
