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Member
Join Date: Mar 2005
Location: CT
Posts: 21
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"The Caged Innocence" (1200 words)
Hi, I havent posted here in quite awhile...so here is a new horror story
WARNING EXPLICIT CONTENT!
“The Caged Innocence”
Thunder claps and bolts of lighting filled the dark, damp, and lonely grey sky as rain drops fell fast. The streets were empty and the city quiet, all seemed dead. This feeling was literal and only grew inside the corpse filled cemetery. The gates were creaking like broken bones as the crows atop them screeched. The wind blew a symphony of macabre feeling, using the branches and fallen leaves to sing its twisted song.
A tall dark figure trudged through the now thick mud of this place, shovel In hand. With strides that rivaled a man on stilts and arms like swaying tentacles, it seemed inhuman. Loud grunts came from the stranger as it slowly made its way through the trees. Its strength was extraordinary; stronger it seemed than any elephant, ripping branches off trees as it went.
Suddenly it stopped to stare at a gravestone. For ten minutes it stood still…staring. Breaking its strange trance like state with a shake of its head, digging began to start. Throwing the wet dirt to the side, a mound quickly turned to a small hill. The ground it unearthed was almost as tall as the mysterious figure unearthing it. The rain turned the fresh dirt slick, it started to slouch and fall back into the now open grave.
The figure became agitated and swung his right fist into the homesick mound, it then proceeded to explode. With a deep yelp the figure then reached into the grave, with one hand it lifted a black casket from the pit. The dark monster walked away, casket in hand. Not even the crows would caw at it, caw at the grave robbing abomination.
The sun soon began to rise. It illuminated the farm house, the wind dial on top cast blinding rays of light on to the now breakfasting animals. Inside this humble abode, two people sat at a table. They were silent while shoveling in food; it seemed a type of oatmeal. There names were Burt and Marcellus, both looked quite ragged and dirty. Toothless and southern, they were the perfect stereotypical “hillbillies”.
Burt soon broke the now uncomfortable silence between them saying, “Well then Marc, did you hear about the grave robbing that happened a couple a nights ago? I wonder if you know who the culprit may be.”
Marcellus, while laughing replied, “I may know who you speak of…is he really tall?”
“Yes I think he might be.”
“Is he really ugly?”
“I do think he is”
“Is his name ‘Freak’?”
“You sure are a smart one brother; ‘Freak’ is his name.”
“Well do you want to go see his newly acquired body?”
“Sure thing brother, let me just finish my meal.”
Burt and Marcellus stood in a dark room. Cobwebs and rats ruled this place. Covered with dead bugs, the ground crunched under foot. A damp and sickening smell lingered through out. A large cage was settled in the corner. Incrusted with fesses and other filth, it housed a strange and hideous creature. It was asleep.
“Wake up, freak!” yelled Burt maddeningly.
“Yeah Fuck head, wake up!” howled Marcellus.
Grunts came from the now wakening monster. The cage began to shake as it tossed about. Coughing, it began to speak, “Let…let….please let me out…I have your dead plaything….please.” Its voice sounded monotone and tired. The monster now seemed like a mouse, pitiful and weak.
“Well how does this sound, you tell us where the casket is and maybe we will change your cage curfew by…say fifteen minutes.” proposed Burt in a very condescending way.
The caged thing answered, pointing to a casket in plain sight. The two brothers laughed at each others stupidity and walked toward the pine box. The lid creaked open under there looming smiles and gleaming eyes. What lay before them would have made the average person sick. Maggots writhed on the decayed flesh. Ribs protruded through the now paper thin skin; the head was only skull, filled with worms and mold. The Organs were nothing more than sickening sludge. The corpse gave off a strong odor of death. The caged “freak” proceeded to vomit, adding more filth to its humble bedroom.
“Sexy”, cheered Burt, unzipping his fly. His pants fell to the ground, his underwear quickly followed.
“Can I watch?” asked Marcellus. “I won’t say a word.”
“Sure”, replied Burt. “Now shut the fuck up!”
‘Freak’ watched in horror, cringing and shielding his eyes. Marcellus smiled while his hand slowly moved down his stomach then into his pants, glazing over he began to quiver. Burt was laying in the casket now; decay began to cover his body. Arching his back, he screamed in ecstasy.
“Have fun marc”, whispered Burt. “Just hope you didn’t cum in your pants.”
Darkness overtook the room with the cage. The captive was having a terrible sleep. Seeing as how the cage was much smaller then its occupant, it seemed impossible for it to sleep at all. Sweat began to pour, it began to shiver. It was having a nightmare.
The dream was of a meadow covered with flowers of all sorts. A beautiful girl danced and singed in this meadow. The monster was there, yet truly he wasn’t a monster…more a tortured soul. He was more than ten feet in height yet skinny as a rail. His hands, which were missing thumbs, seemed too large. His feet were large as well. All was deformed but his face, a handsome face it was; he was blonde with blue eyes, deep, kind blue eyes.
The meadow suddenly burst aflame. The girl turned black in front of his eyes. Burt and Marcellus stood laughing as the giant began to shrink to the mouse he was made to feel like every day. Burt’s foot eclipsed the sun, slowly it descended.
The dreamer awoke abruptly, it screamed. Crying, it kicked the door to the cage. The locked shattered and the door flew open. The enraged soul crawled to freedom. He ran out the door, entering the basement. He sprinted up the stairs to the kitchen which led to the front door. Panting and tired, he stopped. Slowly he turned and looked up the stairs behind him, looking back was his old pal Burt with a shotgun in hand.
“Now where do you think your going freak boy?” asked Burt while chewing on some tobacco.
“I hope not far”, added Marcellus, walking into the room holding a butcher knife.
“Please guys, I just want to go…go farther than the cemetery”, pleaded the almost free in-mate.
“Wrong answer”, cried Marcellus, flying to attack.
The tall man grabbed him before the knife could get near his body, a struggle ensued. Marcellus forced the knife to his neck before having it pushed back. The big man quickly snapped his arm in two. A gun shot went off; its target was not hit. The now human shield Marcellus was the one to take the blast. Another shot ran through the old farm house, this time knocking wood from the ceiling. A butcher knife was buried into the forehead of Burt before he could reload. He slouched and rolled down the stairs, blood spraying from his fatal wound.
Blood drenched the walls, carpets, and ceilings of that room. The soul had almost escaped, almost. All was silent, the tall man lying helpless on the floor. Why must it always be this way? Always confrontation in life. The caged one knew life was worth living. His life on the other hand was not. He stayed there never moving, never knowing the meadow he so deeply dreamed of.
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Aliens are real......just put all the pieces together.....and u will be shocked!!!!!
TREKKIES UNITE!!!
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