mAMBOkING

She floored the pedal and sped through the streets as fast as she could. It was 12:17am. It had finished raining three hours ago and left the road wet and slick, throwing up a glare from the street lights that made it difficult to see. Her eyes moved and darted around for any sign of cops. Now? Next? When where they going to pop up? She didn’t hear them. She didn’t hear nothing this night except that voice inside her head. “He’s going to kill me.” A phone call made not twenty minutes ago from a boy her boy once knew. Her boy was gone. Taken by her father, from a mother sunken in pain, drugs, and the dark, seductive grip of moral descent. She remembered the home- knew it more from instinct than she did memory. She didn’t have to read the numbers. She didn’t have to follow the street signs. It was in the suburbs, three blocks down from the local high school. It was one of those quiet towns in the city that made you question if you were still in the city. She could have found it blind.

She ran out the car and up to the door holding a pistol and flash light she nearly dropped. She was wearing jeans and an old black leather coat. Her dark hair would have hung down to her jawbone had it not been matted with sweat. Five foot, eight- dark eyes and a dark mood, she had been working in this city for three years. Born and raised in Baltimore, she had graduated out of college in three. A late bloomer with a few thorns to add. She then moved down to South Carolina were she became a proud harlot with a fetish for crime, violence, and civilizations outlaw alpha males. She slipped up and got knocked up by a whining weakling who happened to get lucky that night. The result was a blonde haired boy with dark eyes who looked more like his father, and acted like him. The weakling had enough, and decided to leave after catching her cheating for the third time. He took the kids easily. A steady paycheck, spineless tears, and proof of his wife’s disgusting habit was more than enough. A half year after that, she had a sort of shinning moment where between bills and the same brand of facetious loser knuckleheads, she threw up her hands and said Tuck this! She had known of a man earlier in life who would come to help her get the only job that she might have been suited for. She was intelligent. She had always known that. A year later after hard work and rolling around, under, and over key pains-in-the-ass, she pulled of a license as a private investigator. She didn’t know she loved the boy till he left her. She didn’t know why. She wasn’t thinking of that, now. I don’t believe in this. I don’t believe in this. She didn’t call for anyone. There was only two in this house. The rest were dead. One would not answer. The other was not allowed to. She checked the gun and felt for her spare clips. She breathed three times quickly before she rammed against the door. And again! And again!

It gave then. She looked around the room hesitantly, turning on the flashlight and beating it against her forearm before it became brighter. She scanned the living room and the stairs that led into darkness. She felt for the light switch and flicked it- but she knew it would not turn on. It curtly clicked at her in response. She was not aware of sweat. She was aware of the room. Hyper aware of the room. She could almost feel everything. The couches, the TV, the rug, the wood, the air. She saw the two bodies of what appeared to be adults. One on the sofa was slumped in the middle. It looked like he had been sitting upright before something bashed his head in. The blood stain on the wall seemed to say as much as the trails it formed down his white shirt. On the two-seater adjacent to that was a woman. She had a little more of her head left than the male. Half her jaw and some teeth. What the hell was going on. No! Nothing here. Nothing alive. I know they are not here. Upstairs or downstairs. She shifted the light towards the kitchen anyway. Perhaps it was training, but she wanted to clear the entire level first. How many mistakes were avoided by following through. She moved through the kitchen swiftly, coming back to the hall. Up or down. She looked up. She felt fear at rising into that darkness, but she felt dread at descending into the basement, but for some reason, it felt fuller. It was not hollow like the rest of the house. Things were down there. Is he still alive? she thought as she slid open the door. Every moment, her body seemed to protest against her. Her nerves were so alive, they felt electrified. Her ears strained for sound other than her own. She could see nothing. She moved slower. He was in here. She knows it. She moved only guided by the faint light that shone through the rectangular windows. She touched things and shifted from it in small starts. She came to the boiler room and when she moved her light to the corner, she found the boy standing there. He was wide-eyed and vacant. He didn’t see or hear anything. He wore shorts and a shirt. About six years old. She called out his name, but the voice that responded wasn’t his. “He’s mine.” Nor did it come from his direction.

She spun around behind her- her fear so wild, it was mind-blowing as something rushed against her with the constitution of a cement bag. She crashed to the floor- the wind knocked out of her chest and stomach with two different types of pain. She scanned with what felt like bloated eyes, but she couldn’t see anything. She raised her gun, and felt a hand grab her leg and heave- pulling her across the floor and up into the air upside down. Another stiff arm slammed against her side and sent her flying into a steel rack against a wall. Things fell down on top of her as she crumbled on the floor. She was aware of the blood and scrapes on the left side of her face and scalp. She pushed herself off and fired into the darkness. She fired till she clicked. She heard something groan and then shuffle violently away as she reloaded clumsily, her body shaking from raw nerves. She saw the boy shake out of his trance and a terror of the kind she never thought she could see descended over his face. He didn’t scream or go crazy. He just stood their frozen with that nightmare image. Her breath then caught in her mouth as she herself was frozen in horror. At first, she didn’t know if it was the moonlight, or just her mind, but the boys hair had stood up and turned from brown to solid white right in front of her. “Oh my god.” She rasped. “Oh my god, oh my god.”

She heard another scuffle and shook herself off. “Run. She spoke. He didn’t move, but his eyes fell on hers. Terror fell on her. “Run.” She screamed, her mind skirting insanity, itself. Just then, she heard a scuffle as if something were running for the boy. She didn’t know when she decided to, but her body rose up and ran to intercept. She crashed into it and fell on the ground on top of it. It felt rough, solid and disgusting. Something told her it wasn’t human, though. She saw the boy running out of the corner of her eyes before a hand grasped her throat and clenched down. The hand felt like its skin was made of bark. She gurgled as she screamed in fury rising through pain and fear. She pointed the gun at the thick shadow beneath her and fired and fired. She fired till her gun clicked. She clicked until the things grasp slipped from her neck. She rolled off and breathed. She saw the boys shadow skim over the window and out into the night. And then the shadows of the room began to spin and close around her vision. A cold sweat begin to form over her body. She was relieved and terrified at the same time. There was no crying for help. No sound at all. He was just running. All of a sudden the fear came back, and she didn’t want to see the thing in the shadows. She pulled herself up and ran for the stairs with all her strength when she felt it rise and reach out for her. Her back curved in reflexively to avoid it, but it grabbed her jacket and jerked her back so violently, her neck whipped. She fell down hard, her head bouncing off the ground. She grit her teeth, holding her head and crying out loud it. She didn’t know where the gun was. She didn’t even remember running out of bullets. She didn’t even see the form above her rise to its full height. The moon caught its eye and shinned off it like a dogs. She only had the slightest warning of movement when a foot crashed down into her chest. She felt her bones snap, and blood flung out of her throat and mouth. It snarled in a way no dog or human ever did. It snarled in a way that only made her body cringe and grow colder. It made her want to tear her face off. She only thought of the boy, running in the night with white hair and a face that could have killed the person looking at it from shock. Where is he going? She couldn’t see any longer. Only shadows and thicker shadows. She could only feel the sensation of something filling her mouth, but she couldn’t taste it. She couldn’t feel the tears falling down her temples. She tried to look up. All she could see was a shadowed foot hovering over her face. The glimmer of that eye again, and then the shadow descended…and all vanished in darkness.

Monkuta

Also, you used the word "scuffle" a lot, I noticed when I was reading. I would try varying the vocabulary a bit.

It's a good story. You had some excellent descriptions and the emotions and mood/tone of the story was very clear. It really kept me interested all through it. The only things I see that need work are the mechanics I pointed out. Overall, great job!

(Props to Sam Winchester for that style of critique. Not sure if he invented it, but I saw him use it.)

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Monkuta's Favorite Quotes: "Time is our greatest teacher. Unfortunately, it kills most of its' pupils." - Louis Hector Berlioz; "Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings." - Anonymous; "The man who smiles when things go wrong has thought of someone to blame it on." - Robert Bloch; "Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway." - Anonymous

mAMBOkING

i agree completely. i wrote in a hurry, and didn't really proof read it. but i'm glad u liked the story. it shows it has some potential. i'll try to fix this one up though. thanks for the critique, monk.