Foetus

The house stank. It stank of old blood and rot, and stale air and older things, and a sickly smell beneath it all. It was like wilted roses, like too much perfume on an old woman with no more life. The house really stank. And there was the blood. It stretched around the corner, still a bit sticky after all this time. There was too much to dry all at once. I followed it. Down the hall and around the corner, like a sheep I go. And stop at the door, the big white door, with it's brass knob and all the blood coming from under it. I had to wear gloves to open it, to keep from disturbing any fingerprints. Sam took my shoulder before I opened it. Sam is, by nature, a calm man. He doesn't scare, and he doesn't run. But his hand still shook on my shoulder.

-I don't like this smell, he said. I don't want to go in.
-Neither do I. I talk like Humphrey Bogart, like how a detective should talk. I like Sam's name. It's a good name for a partner. I turned the knob, opened the door. Just a crack. A childish little impulse, to check if there was anything scary. The stench came billowing out, the air turned into death itself. I covered my nose with my sleeve, and I remembered just how much of a man I am. I swung the door open. And then I threw up.

They were just kids. The floor had been white, it looked like. But it was red now, red like blood. Red with blood. Just red, red as can be, too red, red, red RED RED. It was blood. I couldn't look at the kids. I only saw their feet, their nails cracked and broken, yellow and old. They were still pale. Pale and white. Pretty, but for the nails. Pretty, but for the fact that both pairs of feet now dangle off the ground. I forced myself to look up, quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. There were two. I couldn't tell them apart. They were hanging, hanging from little nooses made from their pyjamas. They had done something to their faces. They'd cut them off, they'd switched them. In this house, there had been a little boy and girl, and now I couldn't tell one from the other. They had changed the faces, and now they were stuck screaming, with the skin not connected, like a halloween mask made of rubber. I could not see their eyes.

Then their chests. Bare, but for words carved into them. Beautiful shiney thing I love you take me take me I love you shiney angel so pretty take me over and over until I screamed and screamed because they hadn't cared they hadn't cared they had wanted to die and I wanted to take them away save the darlings save the little babies and take them from here it needn't've happened it needn't've happened oh god oh god how did they do that did they write on themselves or did they do it to each other they loved it they loved it enough to die. I hate them.

And the last part. Between their legs, a hole. Something ripped and torn and gouged out, a bloody hole. On the smaller one, it had been dug down to the bone. And they both held it in their hands. It didn't look like much. A piece of bloody meat. But they had done this to themselves, that was certain. And they had done it bare handed. And now is the time for me to leave here, leave this stench and horror and this house. They can find someone else. Because I can't do it. I can't do it. And I turned around, and I look at Sam, and he has a smile on his face and his eyes are gold and he's so beautiful because he's one of the shiney ones he's an angel and I love him again I love him I love him and he'll take me...

The Shining Ones aren't evil. They're just so very pretty.

My first crack at writing! Very little dialog, because I have trouble writing that. I'd love to hear from anyone about this. Comments are much appreciated.

Malone

Hehe. Pretty good stuff. When you talk about gouging down to the bone, you made me wince. Nice job.

I do this a lot too, so I'm gonna criticize you just like I do myself. I know what blood smells like, but I'd like if you described "rot." I'd assume it was like an old dead dear smell, but I think it would be more powerful if you really wrote it out and described the smell of rot.

I'd start a new paragraph with "I followed it" I think it would give it more power.

Seems like a lot of stuff to be cut into kids (or anyones) chests. Normally it's just a word or two. You have like a paragraph. Just kind of made me scratch my head.

And as much as I enjoyed this, I'm not totally certain what's going on here. That's not a bad thing if you intended it that way, but if you didn't, you may need to touch it up. I'm guessing they're neglected children who killed themselves?

Anyway, good read. Thanks for sharing.

Foetus

I thought I described the smell pretty well! But then, I did write this, so I really shouldn't comment.

Thanks for the comments. This is a bit of a rough draft. I agree with the idea of starting a new paragraph, and I think I could convey that the words are written fairly small with just a few words. And...well, you're not quite meant to understand. I just wanted to convey madness and disjointed behavior at the end. My own interpretation is that the shining ones are beings that actually exist and who drove the children mad. I'm writing my stories in a consistent setting, but using different characters, and the shining ones will feature more. Honestly, I think the "abused child" angle can get too easily played out, and I wanted to introduce some genuine evil into this. Thanks for the comments!

I forgot to mention: in the carving chest bit, only the first few words are carved. The rest are Sam's thoughts, starting with him screaming. Don't know if that's clear.

Tari

It has a nice atmosphere, but I've got very, very little idea about what's going on.

The kids killed themselves? Self-mutilation? How in the world did they manage to use their bare hands to rip their own, er, genitalia (I think that's what it was) out? How'd the rip their own faces off and carve themselves? Or was that done by someone else?

By Sam?

Shining? What?


I'll avoid making my normal remarks on grammar and flow here, since I'm so confused, but the "Just red, red as can be, too red, red, red RED RED" bit felt a little too fast, or a bit forced, maybe. It didn't do justice to the atmosphere you've built up throughout the rest of the story, and it didn't really convey the panic of the guy seeing all the red blood everywhere.

Foetus

It's intentionally rather confusing, but as an explanation, they were coerced into doing that. To themselves. By...something very pretty. And I'll look into changing that "red" bit.

Sa\/en

The imagery was really powerful and frightening, and the atmosphere was very intense too. Like Tari asked, "How in the world did they manage to use their bare hands to rip their own, er, genitalia?"