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View Full Version : 00:00 The Darker Place (Unedited) 9,000+ Words



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April 8th, 2012, 05:35 PM
Warning: Mature Content

Unedited, Unfinished, Discontinued. Also, the paragraphs do not show up the way they are supposed to. Every time stamp is a new paragraph. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Well, I have completely stopped working on this, for now, to focus on my new and in my opinion more interesting work "Apocalypse Pending". A story of a post Apocalypse world where there is no plant life and the air is un-breathable without a breathing apparatus

http://www.writingforums.com/fiction/128883-apocalypse-pending-short-260-words.html

Please check that out if your interested.

I expect no critique, I'm fully aware of how bad this is. This is completely un-edited and is more mistake ridden than ... well alot of things but HEY! It's the story (for me anyway) that counts. So please bare with my horrible grammar and try to enjoy it the most you can. And of course I apologize for posting something that isn't better written or for that matter not even going back to double check the story. Good luck.








"Everyone is already dead and these are my dreams." ----------------------------------------------- 00:00 Mannequin like people, Their flesh thin and Grey, from the years of darkness. Moving like robots, slow and programmed. No hair, No gender. Rotting pieces made of forgotten memories. Wounds that won't heal. The world is dark gray and metallic. Nobody speaks and nobody listens, The eyes of the people are black and reflective. The side of their heads have small holes where ears should be. Their feet leave behind a blood like trail in a seemingly colorless world.
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Day One 6 Months & 19 Days 03:15 AM An alarm clock goes off suddenly, startling a man out of a sound slumber. He quickly turns off the alarm as to not wake his wife early. He looks around his one bedroom apartment. The sun has not yet risen and it was very dark. He could barely make out the edges of the picture frames that populated the room, on a dresser, an end table, The walls full of small holes, with a nail hanging a frame. Pictures of his wife and himself, Their parents and grandparents. Although, the pictures of family were almost if not all hers, This man had chosen to erase his memory of these people. If you don't know someone, how could you care deeply about their death? He avoided intertwining his life with others. His wife was as close as he would ever think of being to anybody in the world. Although the distance between them could have been measured in miles. They were vastly different. Truth is, he came to be disgusted by his wife. Her actions always seemed so clumsy and pathetic. Once he may have thought her demeanor was nice, even cute because it was something new. Now he simply despises her thoughts and actions. Every piece of emotion seems useless. All he could muster was a sincere hate for mankind. Disgusted by the simplest things like eating. To have to devour something to survive. He viewed it as a weakness. He knew that the dead had not a need for consumption and therefore anticipated his arrival, or departure.

He arose from bed slowly, still with thoughts of disgust for humanity. “Not all were created equal.” He convinced himself through self hypnosis. Repetition in thought was key to this. If he kept telling himself that the the world was better with out humans then he would believe it. For all he knows, It may even be true.

In the kitchen, He opened the fridge and grabbed a drink filled with caffeine. He opened the can and his ears popped to the sound of the can's lid cracking. Helping to awake him a little. He drank the beverage quickly. Discarding the trash, he continues to the living room. He did not have a very extreme routine, he would do 10 pushups each morning. Just to make sure blood is flowing to his extremities, rarely stretching. There's a local boy who works as a newspaper courier. It was nice to have it delivered early. He opened his front door, it greeted him at his feet. He brought it to the living room where he sat on the couch. He read the headline:

“ FATAL WRECK KILLS 3
Late Friday, A drunk driver driving a red … (He could just about predict the next part.) collided with mini van. Killing three children in the van. The children were dismembered and thrown throughout the interstate. The 57 year old mother and the intoxicated driver survived... MORE ON PAGE 23 … “

He recalled a time where he drove past an accident that must had not happened 30 minutes before he passed by it. Officials already on the scene, they were trying to 'clean up' the road so other cars could travel easier. Also, So they wouldn't be sickened by the mess of limbs and pieces of people around. There was a single blood covered vehicle. Driving past he could smell a foul stench throughout the vehicle. The fumes and the stink of the blood and spilled guts permeating through the air around. It passed through the exterior of his vehicle and settled into his interior. The stench would not leave the vehicle for a few weeks. Reminding him of the gruesome sight every time he entered the vehicle. Sick of reading, he grabbed garments from his wardrobe and entered the bathroom.

04:00 AM As he shaves, his wristwatch goes off. The alarm on his watch was set to the correct time. The sudden alarming sound jolted him and his razor slipped on his his skin, creating a decent opening in his flesh below the right eye. Thick red bled from his wound. He stopped for a moment. He viewed the stream of blood caressing his cheek. The way it swayed on his skin reminded him of a waterfall, or one of those small decorative fountain walls. 5 minutes pass of appreciation for this moment. Then it begins to sting. He finishes shaving quickly, He put a few drops of after shave on his hands, rubbed them together. He anticipates the sting of the small amount of alcohol in his aftershave to burn his wounds. He has finished his general routine in the restroom, he assembles his suit, Black slacks, socks, long sleeve button up shirt and jacket. with a white short sleeve underneath. He thought it was a simple, yet stylish outfit. While his business partners preferred a very professional environment, he chose not to wear a tie like expected. Leaving a much more casual look to his outfit.
04:30 AM While although music doesn't define his character, he grabs a few cds from the cd shelf. He doesn't follow music much but it's better then driving in silence, almost. The unsteady humming of the engine and the clicks when it automatically switches gears. The sound of rubber vs. pavement. sometimes screeching, screaming loudly at those around. As for the music, He didn't care much what it sounded like, he just liked to hear the sounds of certain instruments, Pianos and electric guitars. A pan flute played lightly while a Harmonica blares. Any interesting mix of sounds will enlighten him. Opening his mind to certain thoughts or ideal-isms while he drove. He put his black shoes on, slowly tying its laces very tightly. He returns to the room where his wife slept. He sat on her side of the bed closely. He watched her sleep for what felt like thirty minutes. Finally waking her to say goodbye before he left the house.
05:00 AM The man whispered softly in his wife’s ear: "I love you." She opened her eyes a little "Shh I’m trying to sleep!" She replied harshly, turned over and went back to sleep.
This was typical of her her to say in the morning. He got used to the insulting behavior she had. She always cursed at him for what seemed like nothing, He came to the conclusion that he couldn't remember what a single fight was about, except for one. She wants a child. The reason escapes him completely. He feels that bringing a child into this world is irresponsible. While he felt this way and argued his case with her multiple times, he did agree to give her a child within the coming years. He swore it to her and he was a man of his word, loyal. He believed that there was a real sense of honor in being true to yourself and others. He tried again to ignore the insulting manner in which she spoke to him and got up from the bed, Grabbed his jacket from the coat rack, grabbed his keys from the tray on the table next to the door. Opened the door, locked it and closed it behind him, forgetting his audio cds and his lunch. While he didn't actually have anything to do this early, he liked to escape the house early to collect his thoughts, as well as prepare for the slightly long drive to the city in which he worked at a publishers building. They published anything and everything. You could read work that passed through their office in a newspaper, a book, a magazine, a movie, anywhere, anything you can read. His job was to manage upkeep with a large digital cache of files on a single server. These files where all digitized copies of printed work. He was to sort, organize and maintain these files. Sometimes they would have him "renew" a edition of a newspaper or magazine with 'proper' updates. He has even seen a few bare facts changed as if they have never existed. Changing dates and places, Even people. He had long ago begin to question whether what he learned in schools were lies. 06:00 AM He drove to a quiet breakfast restaurant. A little bit out of the way, he enjoyed it because it was mostly vacant besides one waitress and an old chef in the kitchen. He ordered eggs, Sunny side up, With a slice of toast. The toast was lightly burnt, making it look dark gray, the only noticeable color around him was the yellow yoke of his eggs, alongside witch a stream of ketchup. He suddenly envisioned the red swirl of ketchup as a river of blood, with bodies floating downstream. The yellow of the yoke, A fire, broken out upon a nearby village. Occupants of which were in said river. The sole survivors were the elderly, left to suffer to death, leaving behind no one capable of working the nearby fields for food. Or hunting the nearby woods for meat, What little that was left of these woods were now ablaze, leaving ashes on the burnt fields of the area. Waitress - "Sir? ... Coffee?" The man snapped out of his day dream and looked at the young girl. She looked like she was no older than nineteen and been through hell. She wore an almost long sleeve, black shirt. It didn't help but to make the scars on her wrist stand out more instead of hiding them as she clearly intended. The faded bruise on her cheek showed clear abuse. Her hair was red, Dyed the color of blood that had been spilled recently. It was a shame to see a youth in such horrible shape. He wondered what would happen had he been there to raise her. What would have happened had her Father been a Dr. Or had a father at all. She was a nobody. She would never go anywhere important, She would never shake hands with someone of a high intellectual capacity. Nobody would ever hear her name on the news or the radio and nobody would talk about her after she was dead. "Please." He replied politely. He barely touched his food, feeling sick again, from the the thought of more violence. Finishing his coffee he leaves the restaurant, leaving a $5 tip. He felt like he might have been making a positive affect on the world by leaving more then usual. Maybe she could buy a new shirt to cover those scars or something to cover the bruises on her face. Hell, He thought. If she saved up enough in tips, She could probably buy a gun and kill the bastard who hit her. He got back in his vehicle and continued on his way... 07:00 am He parked his car in the building parking lot. As he exited he viewed the territory in front of him, All the buildings are old and half torn apart. An attempt to replicate rubble, trash litters the streets. Cigarette butts littered the ground like a carpet. He could imagine the future where people have to shovel the filth out of their way and must wear protective masks to prevent smoke inhalation due to high pollution and constant risk of instant cancer from second hand smoke.

He enters the building and takes the elevator. He presses the button to go to the 7th floor. The compact elevator shot upwards. He could feel the pressure on his spine from the speed of the elevator, suddenly it halted and the doors parted very slightly. On Floor 6 he viewed the spectacle in front of him. Directly in front of the elevator, there was a man bleeding on the floor. A large pool of blood surrounded him. A second smaller man, with a white long sleeve shirt, black pants, a Red tie and a pair of glasses. He recognized him as an employee of the building, his job was to check every floor and associate with every person. Checking their progress on current projects and keeping people up-to-date with their work schedule and keeping things 'in check'. Having to deal with idiots and morons that occupy the building, One could easily see why he would want to harm them.

The smaller man rushed over to the bleeding mans body and began stabbing him again with a pen. He stabbed him several times before he stopped, he looked back at the elevator where the man was still stuck in the elevator, watching. Their eyes connected for just a moment. It couldn't have been more then a few seconds but it lasted forever. He could see a fire burning in the small mans eyes. The blood dripped twice slowly from the pen that was in his shaking hand. The small man had a grin, a strange, cold grin. Just then the elevator started back up and the doors closed, closing the view and the connection between them. The man stood back and took in the information. It was like watching a film, where everything goes black and white except for the blood, and their eyes. Everything slowed down and was focused. He realized his heart was pounding. His adrenaline spiked, he sat down and attempted to calm himself. The elevator stopped and dinged,the doors opened to reveal the clean white hall of the 7th floor. He stood up and walked down the hall, took a right and continued down the corridor to the end. He entered a double door into a large room in the back of the building filled with cubicles. Egg white colored panels covered the view from everywhere, It was everything, even the walls and the doors and their frames. White desks and white computers, black ink being bled on to blank white pages being tossed around the room as if there were a hurricane. Paper moved faster than people in this room.

He sat in his small cubicle in the back corner of the room. He turned on his cubicles monitor. The rush of paper stopped, it was replaced by a rush of people and quiet whispers. They flocked to the only window in the room. What was outside that was so interesting? The man in his cubicle already knew. He could hear the sirens faintly on the streets below. They were there for the man on the 6th. While everyone in the office stared out the window, The man sat in his cubicle with his briefcase in his lap, not moving. Thinking about that moment when their eyes connected. The look in the smaller mans eyes horrified him … and yet also intrigued him. While he's sitting there in his chair he dreams... ----------------------------------------------- 00:00 The beings in this world, they had appendages that should never vary, Three fingers, one of which a thumb. Any other number of fingers on one hand would be considered 'imperfect'. They had 'feet' that would be similar to one stuffing their feet into a shoe box. Both feet were light but looked like heavy blocks. Their eyes were large black and reflective. They had no mouths, only a small filter in which they may 'feed', Which is not an acceptable and is looked down upon by 'them'. 'They' ruled everything and yet 'they' do not exist. while everything is coordinated and in sync, there is no ultimate power over the beings. Yet, these beings still follow every command their 'instincts' give them.

----------------------------------------------- 10:00 AM A cute girl in heels and a skirt walked into his cubicle. She quickly and quietly told him to see the office head. Nobody knew his name and he did not have a cubicle, really. He had an office in the corner with no door, therefore no name printed on it. Everyone addressed him as “Sir”. He stepped into his 'office'. The room was white like the rest of the place, Except for a solid oak desk and old leather chair in which an old man sat. The old man was aged considerably. He had a weathered face with a solid scar on his left cheek. His eyes had very dark circles and his hair was gray. He asks the old man in the leather chair; “Yes, Sir?”. The old man looked up slowly to reply. “ Some tragedies come unexpectedly. Just a few moments ago, A man on the floor beneath us murdered a another man, A good friend of mine. Stabbed him with a damned pen. Now I knew that man's poor widow of a wife. I chose you to go over there and give her condolences on my behalf. I would go myself but it's difficult to travel with this damn cane.” He picked up a cane tucked away from sight under the desk. A nice solid wood cane, with a red jewel for a handle.

“Of course this won't go unrewarded. That opens up an opportunity for you. I have a document that needs to reach the president of the company. I'll entrust it with you to deliver. If you do this right you could go right to the top, right where I am.” He thought about whether he meant that as a compliment or was insulting both of them. Being in a cubicle sized office with no door and no windows, leaning on a crutch and relying on office lackeys to give widows words of support for their time of grief. “You're probably wondering why you? Well, I notice you work harder then others around here and keep to yourself. No distractions! I think you can get somewhere if you try.” With that. He handed him a stack of documents inside a n envelope, A slip of paper with two addresses and sent him on his way. He tucked them safely in a folder inside his briefcase and headed to the addresses given.
02:00 PM After a long conversation with the widow of 2367 Chapel Ave. He found himself in a boring conversation, yet still he spread apart his lips to bare his teeth. This action is done to show the emotion of 'happiness'. His emotions were fake. His flesh was as a simple canvas with paint on it, hiding its true material. The people who shook his hand felt him in this existence but he was not there. His smile faded to a grin. Sitting in a white chair with his suitcase in his hands, staring at the white carpet beneath his feet while a couple on a white love seat discuss business with another man in an elegant white chair, with his leg crossed and a complimentary cup of tea from the widow he let out a laugh. The man in the suit was smiled at the thought that this person too, was faking their reaction. The widow entered the room.
He interrupted the conversation to say: "I'm sorry but you'll have to excuse me, I really must be going, I have a meeting at 4:00." With a quick hand shake, a wave and a “Thank You.” from the widow, he exited the house and entered his vehicle to leave.

02:30 PM
Taking a break from the hustle of his day, he sat underneath a bridge on a small bench. Smoking a cigarette from his pack inside his open briefcase which lay next to him on the bench. Noticing a two sketchy persons approaching, he clipped the cigarette on the bench. Beside his lap out of view from the two now visible punks who claim to be “thugs”.
The first, shorter, skinnier and apparently smarter thug spouted "Hey Holmes, You better recognize. This is no place for suits like you. The second, larger and definitely more stupid thug drooled “Yeah Bitch!” The man thought to himself for a short moment “ … The demeanor of these two … They should both die.” Eying the pen in his shirt pocket, thinking of the even earlier and how, despite his size, he could kill them.
Attempting to stand up slowly he replied: "I don't want to be of any trouble." Pushing him back down into the seat the first thug exclaimed: "You ain't gonna be!" Pulling out a knife he began to search through his briefcase, throwing documents around carelessly, Destroying them. As the other thug pulled out a pistol, He said "Give us what you got motherfucker!". He began to take the man's watch, The man tried to resist. “Don't mess up those papers, Please! They're very important!” The second thug pistol whips the man in the face and mocking him “Please. Bleeding heavily, he loses consciousness. ----------------------------------------------- 00:00 Mannequin like people operate large machines, lots of gears, all the people and machinery are in complete sync. moving at the same time. The machines control the world around them. which is dark and metallic. A conveyor belt nearby, There's people lying on the belt, all broken, unrepairable. It runs endlessly. A seemingly infinite number of beings coming from the darkness. No knowledge of being produced or constructed. Only the knowledge of their future deconstruction. ----------------------------------------------- 3:15 PM The man slowly awakes in a large pool of blood, shirt soaked red. Slowly, the blurriness fades and he rises. He looks at his wrist to see the time, only to see a bruise where his watch should be. Barely remembering what happened, He observes the scene...
His briefcase is destroyed, papers and pieces all about the surrounding area. Pack of cigarettes missing, Wallet gone. Therefore, no I.D. and no money. The pool of blood he lay in was his own, originating from somewhere on his head and running into his eyes. He wipes his eyes and stumbles back to his vehicle. He finds it almost destroyed, windows smashed, graffiti and scratches along all sides. It was nearly completely stripped, all mirrors included. He enters the car through the passenger door after being unable to open the driver's side. “They must have broke it.” He thought to himself. To his surprise he the radio was still intact. He find his keys in the ignition, he starts the vehicle and checks the time. 03:45 PM As bad as his luck was, he thought to himself: "I have to get to this meeting, my career depends on it." He quickly races to his meeting in the city. 04:13 PM Still covered in his own blood and still bleeding from his head. He finds himself at a seven story gray building. He enters. The woman at the service desk immediately notices and calls security. Just as he reaches the desk, A security officer grabs his arm and asks, "Is there a problem?" Forcing him back towards the entrance. Main: "I have a meeting with the president of the company sir, I got to be there even if I'm dying. The security officer stops, looking at him looking confused. Main: "I have to be there by 4!" Sec: "Well you better hurry your ass up then! Top floor. You might want to barrow a shirt though." Pointing at the large bloodstains on his shirt. "And get that checked out." pointing at the gash in the mans head, that he could now see through multiple mirrors in the lobby. Ignoring him almost completely the man runs to the closest elevator. tapping the button repeatedly. Only to then notice the "Out Of Order!" Sign on the elevator doors. He runs through the stairwell entrance and ascends the stairs. 04:30 PM Main enters the seventh floor lobby, an all white room, with black doors. The woman behind the desk stares at him as he approaches. The black double doors across the room fly open... Company President: "I can't believe he would be late to a meeting like this!" He exclaims wildly flailing his arms about. Everyone stops and waits. acknowledging each others presence. The man tried to apologize. "Sir, I'm sorry..."
The president interrupts: "You look like shit, what did you get hit by a truck? Wheres your paperwork? He replies "I kind of lost it sir. You see..." The president interrupts again: "You lost 'em huh? That kind of thing won't stand around here, You're fired!" He pushes the man aside and goes through the doors. Everyone stops staring and looks away, like it never happened and continue their work. The woman behind the desk still staring. Main exits building to his vehicle and drives home, Thinking along the way... "How could this happen? I lost my job because of some scum off the streets!? Fuck! My head hurts … "
He looked in his rear view mirror. His head was bleeding profusely from the side, he failed to notice. He looked back down at the radio, It wasn't there. “Damn punks must have stole it!” He thought to himself. He opened his briefcase but it was empty. Something seemed strange about it as well …
06:00 PM Almost to his cozy white home, he notices a red vehicle in his driveway, he parks next to it, exits his vehicle and examines it. "What's this vehicle doing here? Have I seen it before?" He passes through the driveway gate and walks along the stone walkway that leads to his house. Along that walk there’s four large trees, a fence made of rocks, a birdhouse and birdbath. A large garden area full of roses and bleeding hearts and a red tool shed. He notices that the light to the bedroom is on, He passes quietly over his second fence and peeks through his window of the first story bedroom. He observes his wife, Nude with another man, On their black silk sheets, In their White wooden frame canopy bed, smoking cigarettes. He runs, He jumps over the fence and past the garden, past the red tool shed, past the birdhouse, the birdbath, past a fence made of rocks, four large trees, and along the stone walkway back to his vehicle. He starts the engine and leaves, he races down the road as quickly as he can, as far as he can, blocking all thoughts...
00:00PM He stops at a bar. He goes inside. The place is very old and deserted. Red lights hang from above. There's a small stage with torn curtains and a single stool, center stage. There's a microphone stand but no microphone. There's no other tables in the entire bar, just two stools at the bar. An old bartender sitting across the bar chewing tobacco, looks up with almost completely toothless grin. Bartender: "Welcome to Hell." Man, exhausted and fatigued: "Excuse me?" Bartender: "It's the name of the bar, kid. You look like you got roughed up something fierce." The man sits at the bar and looks at the splinter wood. Bartender: "What'll it be? " Man: "I don't know, I haven't drank in a while. What's good?" Bartender: "Good? Ha! I got a drink for you here, one minute now." The bartender mixes a few different bottles together in a glass, making a pitch black drink. Bartender: "You know, I saw a man come in here, years ago now, Looked to be about in the same shape as you are. Yup, I saw him sit right in that same stool..." He grins again. The man stares into his eyes, they seemed cold and distant, He could see the reflection of himself in his eyes. The bartender stops grinning. Bartender: "He wasn't too much of a drinker either, so I made this very same drink...." He spits a small amount of chew out into his hand, rolling it around between his chubby little fingertips. Then into the drink. Bartender: "He went and killed a bunch of people with gardening tools, buried them in a graveyard hidden away from site. Yup, they found them bodies alright. Ain't never find that man though, Of course, this was a time ago, Doubt he'd still be alive anymore." Bartender: "If you're in some pain, Take a shot of this..." He pours a shot and shoves it into the mans hands. The man stares into the drink in front of him, Black and reflective, he could see himself clearly. A drop of blood hits the bar, he's still bleeding. He downed the shot hastily. It was sour soil. Soil with fertilizer, manure that burned. His throat felt like it was on fire. Like strips of his throat have been burned off and incinerated. Like chewing on glass and swallowing it. Gargle razor blades. He slammed the shot glass down hard, his hands were shaking, as well as his knees. Another drop of blood hit the bar, Then his face. Everything goes black. ----------------------------------------------- Day Two Suddenly in his car, going 60. He checks the time on his car's clock:


06:00AM

He passes exit 6. His head throbbed with pain. As if someone had smashed a brick over it. He could barely see exit 7 when he pulled off the highway. He pulled into a motel parking lot and parked his vehicle far away from view. He was dazed and confused, he examines his vehicles interior. There's blood over the steering wheel, dashboard, passenger seat and the entire car seemed to have the stench of a rotting carcass. He was wearing a jacket that wasn't his, but he saw it before somewhere. He checked his chest pocket to find a pack of cigarettes. In fact, it was the same pack that was stolen from him. In his other pocket there was about $100.There was a bloody hand print on the glove box, he opened it to reveal a .38 snub nose, nickel plated, solid oak wood grip, also covered in blood. He pondered the possible things that could of happened. Everything seemed oddly familiar. He takes the money and the cigarettes and, trying to walk straight, shambles towards the lobby of the hotel. He settles his arm on the counter, eying the back room door. It was slightly open, through which he could see a television with what appeared to be pornographic material. He rang the bell on the counter...again...again. On the third time the door ripped open and a fat little man with thick stubble and bad hygiene waddled out, slamming the door behind him. Clerk - "How may I help you?" Man- "I need a room, just for a few days." Clerk- "$25 a night for a single." Man- "Here's $50." The clerk tosses him the keys to room 6, immediately going back in to the backroom and shutting the door behind him. The man grabbed the gun from his car and entered the room. It was a horrid place that had a foul odor like dead rodents that have emptied their bladders in the process. The room was warm and the walls were a ugly orangeish brown. It was a small room with a single fold out cot. He folded it out, tucked the pistol under his pillow and tried to sleep. ----------------------------------------------- 00:00 On the conveyor belt, the different, the 'impure' were drifted away into the dark abyss of the mechanical world. While although these beings could not speak, they understood each others gestures. Nobody knew who controlled this world, but it was indeed under control. There was a process, everything had a useless and meaningless purpose. When a being enters the realm, they are expected to understand and know how the world works around them. If not, they are thrown into the dark abyss, considered "faulty flesh ware". Soulless beings without emotion, The being must be deemed perfect, the imperfect cast away. Violence existed amongst these beings, but it was considered a normality to be beaten, hung, chained, imprisoned and enslaved. Manual labor being the trade of the land. There is no over ruling government. But things always seem to be put in place and checked. If a faulty piece of flesh ware shows no aggression and fails to exist up to expectations, It is cast into the darkness. Without force, the being seems to simply know and understand that it is to be terminated. It will find its rightful place amongst others on the large conveyor belt that runs through this world. while there were no defining features of these beings, they still bled from created orifice. Sometimes, Beings would rip and tear their own skin to create an opening. These beings were referred to as "soiled". Becoming Soiled means you must become a "ghost". Soiled beings were cast immediately into the darkness, But into a dark fire instead of an abyss like the rest. Soiled beings still existed after the conveyor belt, who while blind and deaf, felt the burning from the clear lakes of fire that existed beyond the darkness and still hear the screams of the "dead". The beings referred to those who no longer existed beyond the darkness as the "Dead". ----------------------------------------------- 11:30 AM The man awakes from his dream, his nightmare, Dream-are. Tired, drowsy, sluggish, unaware, down, dark, suicidal, broken. He stumbles into the bathroom of the motel room. Its cracked glass mirror reflected his face, and in a way reflected his heart and soul, Cracked and broken. The room was full of blood, his hands were stained. It was coming from his head, from his eyes. The walls started bleeding, weeping with him. He smashed his face into the glass, splintering it more. Tearing his face open wider, now the walls really were covered in blood. He runs the water on hot. He paces back and forth in the small space that was given. He felt like something has died, like he was killed and now he came back as a soulless creature, here without purpose. He enters the scolding hot water and loses footing, landing face first into the tiles, losing consciousness. 12:00 PM He awoke, in the cold. The water has run cold as ice. Shards of ice were piercing the flesh of his face, he was numb. "Good enough of a shower." he thought. He returned to the main room and lay upon the foldout cot. Trying to remember what happened the night before. Why was there so much blood? Why had he seen what he saw? Why couldn't he just live the lie everyone always wants? He turned on the TV, it was black and white, news channel 5. News respondent: "...Under the bridge south of the hospital. Two bodies were found brutally mutilated, still no details at this time..." The man recognized the bridge, it was the one he had been robbed under. the bodies were sitting on the same bench he was earlier. He thought to himself, 'If my blood is still at the scene they could link me to it somehow... did I kill them?' He shook his head, the evidence piled up on a guilty verdict. He understood that he was past the point of no return. Now he had to figure out his next move... ----------------------------------------------- 00:00 ----------------------------------------------- 01:00 PM By this time he had adjusted his clothing to be casual enough to be seen in public. He cleaned his car thoroughly. He drove home and parked in the driveway. He sat in the car. Remembering the events that unfolded no more than 24 hours ago. He exited his car and walked towards the gate, past the rose garden and the tool shed. He unlocked the door and walked in. It smelled of coffee and candles. It made him sick. The home he was in was a coverup, a cover over the sewage that spills from this houses walls. The walls have heard things. The relationship he thought they had was supposedly special. He tried his hardest to remember the last time he knew happiness. He felt as if he was always underachieving. He walked into the kitchen where his wife stood, preparing sandwiches. She stopped and glared at him. Wife: "! You disappear on me like that? Without calling, I was worried sick! You were cheating on me weren't you? You piece of shi..." He went somewhere else in his mind... ----------------------------------------------- 00:00 Although beings here could not see or hear, they all followed. However, the man began to notice that he could manipulate the environment around him inside of this dream. He was now aware that he was a being who existed in this world, he was just like them, moved like them. He began to realize he could change the actions of this being. At first it was just simple changes, he could move the fingertips almost casually now, the hand was becoming stronger. His flesh became less transparent and turned a dark shade of gray. Instead of being able to see, he could feel his surroundings. He realized now that this was a world of existence all on its own, another dimension. ----------------------------------------------- ??:?? He opened his eyes to a bloody scene, knife in his hand. He was in the kitchen still, his wife nowhere to be seen. He walked to the blood covered counter, where pounds of meat were waiting to be devoured. The bread was made of something soft and red, the sandwich meat was a thick slice of muscles and tendon. He felt as if he knew it was delicious. The house had been painted a new color, Blood red. It hangs from the ceiling, it grows around the foundation. It can be smelled in the air, it can be felt like a heavy moisture on your flesh. It can make you mad like the itching inside of your vein. It burns badly, so badly you want to force it to erupt like lava from a volcano. Oozing slowly, dripping like drops of water from a hanging rock beneath a waterfall, a trickle of pure beauty. He could only see red. The black and white was replace by one color. Everywhere he looked he could feel it. Like there were millions of eyes staring at him through it. It acted as a portal, he could see through to the other side, he could interact. 12:30 AM When he came back he was sitting in his vehicle. What had happened? What had not happened? He exited his vehicle and entered the house, past the trees, rocks, and red tool shed. He entered the door that led to the kitchen. He entered, his wife was in the kitchen preparing sandwiches. Wife: "How could you just disappear? I was so worried about you, You could have at least called! Where where you?" She exclaimed while almost in tears. He thought for a moment and replied "I was mugged!" Wife: "Oh my god! Are you okay?" She was now crying, trying to hug him saying "I Love You!" He did not embrace her as he used to, never again. He could see clearly that the tears from her eyes were fake. He thought to himself: "She used eye drops before I arrived. Splashed water in her eyes or cut onions." He kind of pushed her away a little. All he could think about is taking the butter knife she used to spread the condiments atop the bread and stabbing her. Slowly saw off every finger and toe with a butter knife, through the bone. Snap it into place and break it. Make it loose and free it from its prism. He pushed harder and freed himself from her grasp, slipping past her and in to the bathroom. He splashes cold water on his face, realizing he is sweating. He wipes his face on the hand towel hanging from the towel rack. He looks up into the mirror only to be horrified by what he sees. His eyes have turned black. No color of any sort. Like the pupil expanded and never contracted, it just swallowed it whole. Surrounding him where mannequin like people, pointing at him, While they weren't laughing he could hear laughter. The laughter was barely audible behind a loud ringing. It was a teeth grinding squeal of a ring. He grabs his head by the ears and stumbles backwards in pain. His foot caught the edge of the toilet and into the bath he fell, hitting his head on a small soap holder patruding from the bath wall. ----------------------------------------------- 00:00 Back in the colorless world, he is now able to move almost fluently. slowly moving his 'feet'. He walked into the position that felt right, it felt red. There were levers in front of him, they were strangely familiar. He pulled the 1st lever. He could feel gears grinding in the distance, A steady rumble. He continued pulling the levers in an automatic fashion, he was robotic, he was planned and programmed. He fit in to the world he was set, like a puzzle piece. He thought to himself... "Wow, In this world it is as if nothings exists and yet simultaneously does exist for eternity. Where nothing is remembered and yet nothing is forgotten. There was nothing to see or to be heard. There are no languages to be spoken. He would not have to worry about the future. He knew everything was to be taken care of. In reality, if he were to write his existence onto paper and it not be burned away in time, Had the language cease to exist then it will be lost information forever, like ancient hieroglyphics, undecipherable. I would rather stay here where there are no words, you can just feel existence and yet you also feel the non existence. To be present and not present simultaneously. To have a conscious mind to be controlled and an empty soul to be filled. Also having no mind to be full of free will and a full soul just waiting to be emptied. There was a draining in his surroundings. He could feel a time limit on his non existence. He knew that nothing lasts forever and yet at the same time, everything lasts forever." He was now in a small area where he is to stay until the levers need be operated again. until his non existence, exists for no time at all, for eternity. ----------------------------------------------- ??:?? He came to consciousness standing in the kitchen. Inside an empty house, Inside the empty walls that were full of knowledge and history. His wife nowhere to be found. He searched the house for her but she was not to be found. She was gone. So where her things, everything. The pictures were all gone, her clothes no longer in the drawer. It's as if she never existed. He couldn't tell what was really happening. Had she left him for someone else? Had he murdered her? He wandered the house for an untold amount of time, searching for an answer or a clue. Anything to help him find his bearings, some sort of reason. He stumbled onto a box of old items from his childhood. He tried to recall something from it, But he could not. It is almost as if he hadn't had one. That he had not existed before now. He exited the house and stood in awe. His vehicle was unscathed. He opened the door and checked the interior, everything was in place." What the hell?" He mumbled under his breath. Mail Delivery Service Lady: "Sir? I have a package for this address I need you to sign here." It was a short, pudgy lady. Pointing at a dotted line. He signed quickly with what could have been a fake signature it was scribbled so badly. He took the small package she handed to him. She waddled off quickly to the next delivery. he opened his car door and sat down. ----------------------------------------------- 3:15 PM The realization that he was missing memories from considerable chunks of time, he started to become a little worried. He felt famished and dehydrated as if days or weeks had passed and he had not eaten. A heavy fatigue set in as if he had been hiking for hours with out rest or water. He noticed he was still bleeding. He parked his car in a hospital parking lot. ----------------------------------------------- The doctors were standing over him discussing possibilities, They could remove his hear and insert an infant's heart, and replace the infants with his. They could replace his eyes with another set of eardrums or rip out the nasal passage to create two more vocal outputs through his eye sockets. Rip out his finger nails and replace them with razor, for every time you have an itch it is to be more painful to please yourself then to ignore it. Remove his teeth and insert jagged glass and rusted metal. The swelling from the infection will keep the pieces snug, warm and cozy inside of their fleshy bondage. The blood coagulates and creates a sealant for these pieces. They replace his hands with his feet and his feet with his hands. Any and all sorts of operations that could deface somebody. They contemplated removing all gender specific qualities. Yet forcing cells to separate not only inside but outside as well, creating offspring from single component DNA. Creating the first genderless, A-sexually reproducing human being.
3:30 PM
Waking up in his vehicle in the hospital parking lot. He decided not to enter the hospital. His dream had discouraged this through paranoia. The doctors there would do that to him. He was their experiment, He was convinced. He ignited the engine and tuned in the radio.

Radio Correspondent: “ A woman was found brutally murdered today, mutilated beyond recognition, Officials have yet to release any information regarding the victims identity.”

He turned off the radio. The violence around him was gnawing at his nerves. He could feel cold sweat on his forehead. The shake in his hands from each pump of blood from his heart. He hated the thought of it, so much sickness around him. Yet he found he still had an underlying urge to be violent. To massacre the killers. To fuck all the rapists. To chop off the hands of thieves and bring true purification to the lands. Maybe the only true possible way of curing our diseases are through violence. We are the disease and we must be cured.

He exited the parking lot. Driving slowly, He realized he was low on gas. He stopped at the closest gas station. He pumped his fuel and entered. Grabbing something to drink he goes to the counter to pay. Behind the counter was sitting a large woman with blonde, dirty hair. She had fake nails on. She was overweight and repulsive. Her tight T-shirt couldn't help but let all the weight out underneath the bottoms of the shirt. Her fat rolled over itself. Her chest went to her chin, As if she had not a neck. No wonder she was sitting in that chair, her short little chubby legs could barely hold up her own weight. Her name tag on her shirt read: “Deb”. Not Debra or Debbie but just “Deb”. The ignorance of a shortened, short name was annoying. He couldn't help but to feel like she was the dumbest bitch on the planet. Needy, Disgusting, Fat, Repulsive, Rude, Bitch. You could smell the filth emanating from her. He swallowed the whole image at once, in disgust he almost threw up.

She was reading one of those magazines with a bunch of “How To Lose Weight” tips that even if they were the least bit helpful, They could not help this woman. She looked up from the magazine and said: “What is it?”

He instantly hated her and her snotty attitude, Yet, He responded politely. “Pump 3.” He also set on the counter the bottle he had grabbed from the stores built in coolers. He paid her what she said and picked up the bottle and attempted to leave when the fat bitch shouted. “HEY! Are you going to pay for that?!” She was pointing to the beverage he had in his hands. He stood in the doorway for a second. Actually shocked by her standing up so quickly. Hell, standing up at all for that matter. She was tapping her fake nail on the counter. “Tap, Tap, Tap.” The steady repeating of the sound was enough as is to drive him insane. Mix it with the fat troll that stood behind the counter and you could feel the hatred pouring out of him. He kept himself calm, At least on the outside. Inside, All he wanted to do was leap over the counter and strangle the fucking bitch. As difficult as it would be. You would have to use your boots against her “neck” and stomp to get through the thick layers of fat. He was considering jamming the money down her throat while screaming: “You should have noticed it you ugly fucking pig!” Kicking her in her belly repeatedly, At the same time. Just then a cute young girl in her twenties walked through the door he held open. The young blonde looked at him and said: “Thanks cutey!” The woman behind the counter was clearly jealous of her youth and slender, beautiful body. She sat back down as he walked back to the counter. He smiled as he put a few dollars down. He left the store, not being able to stand another second with the cashier.
He was at his car. The young blonde walked out of the store, walked to the lot's edge and turned around. She approached the man at his vehicle and sat on his hood. “Hey there, nice car. Can you give me a ride?” She asked intently. She was nothing more than a whore and he knew this. “Sure” He replied with a grin. They entered the vehicle and left.

4:00 PM

In the vehicle, she was chewing pink bubble gum, rather loudly as well. She started talking about something vehicle related. Truth be told he hates vehicles and believes they are a primitive invention soon to be phased out by the next genius created transportation systems. The vehicle was not much more than a rolling wheel. The wheel was created quite sometime ago. It is time for something more intelligent. He glanced at the young blonde, she was still talking. He interrupted her. “You're beautiful.” He said, ignoring the fact that he was being completely creepy. She stopped talking and chewing and stared at him for a moment. “Can I fuck you?” She replied. He drove to the hotel he had rented at the time and spent the next few hours there.

Moments of intense passion share the same time line as extreme hatred. The hours dwindled until the early AM. His mind was never there, it's always been somewhere else. He'll never find. Although he had the purest intentions to do so, His fate is now in a downward spiral.


END - IF you made it this far, I'm sorry it just ends. This is the last 'definite' part of the writing. I have a few more paragraphs written, but they might not be in the right direction that i intend the story to go. If you'd like to view them let me know and I'll post them for you. Thank you for reading.