Head Hunters

Terry kicked the ball straight past Brand.

“Hey! Attention!”

Brand was looking at the sky. It was changed, it had a yellow glow over it.

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should…” The sound of sirens. Many sirens, all over town. “Maybe we should get home.”

Midway over the city hills the first military helicopters appeared. Fighter planes shortly after. Explosions.

“Damn! It looks like… war?”

“Who would invade America? Who could?”

Bombs fell. Several big explosions around town. The planes and helicopters fell. Some gunshots for a short while. 

Silence. An alarm going off in a distance. A scream every once in a while.

There were men walking somewhere further down. They all dressed the same, like if they had uniforms. From their shoulders there was a strange beam going up. They had no heads.

Terry grabbed Brand’s arm.

“Hide!”

They jumped behind some bushes. Lay down. The headless men walked by, marching like soldiers, but they saw no weapons.

“Oh, my God… We need to get home.”

Some men were standing up by the clearing where the pushers used to hang out. They looked at the headless men. One of them, a skinny guy, laughed.

“What are these guys?”

“Some disguises! Ha! Where are you going, nerds?

The headless men did not answer… (more)

Weeds

Weeding his garden, Gerald looked up at the sky. The sun was down, but there was a strange light, this bizarre shine. He did not know why.

Something was sitting in his bushes, a strange little creature. It looked like a butterfly. Or a bat or something. Something weird.

He walked closer. It looked at him, moved its head to the side. It laughed. It laughed a wicked laugh, as if the joke was on him. Even though he had done nothing.

It flew off.

Gerald followed it. Walked behind it, through the garden. It flew slow, too slow, like it was defying laws of nature with its strange, nasty movements. Every once in a while it turned its little head, grinning towards him. It gave him the creeps, but he kept walking.

It flew over the fence to the neighbour’s garden. Gerald followed, even though he hated the neighbour, and the neighbour hated him.

It flew across the highway. Gerald followed. Cars came speeding by, beeping their horns.

He followed it down to the rocky beach, where the waves went high and violent. The beach where you couldn’t swim.

At the end of the beach there was a rock wall. In the wall there was a hole. Into the hole the little bug flew and disappeared.

Gerald looked into the hole.

He could see a light. Fire. Shadows moving, little creatures dancing around.

His little friend turned towards him. Its eyes were sharp, like ice, burning with the fire. Gerald realised he was the one for whom they were waiting.

The beach disappeared. The huge waves coming on the rocks, the sound, the humidity. All was gone.

Little demons were dancing around him, jumping, flying. Little monsters laughing at his old self, what he was, who he had become.

-Coward!

-Worthless old man!

He knew they were right. The heat burned his skin. Their words pierced his soul. He felt strong.

He was back on the beach.

The waves had calmed down.

The strange colour in the sky was still there.

He knew now, what he had to do… (more)

One With the Moment

Tranquillity. The sound of a bee going from flower to flower in a distance, a butterfly’s wings flapping. Silence.

She crossed her legs, lifted her hands. Fastened her eyes on a point in the wilderness. She let go.

The world beyond the present faded. Thoughts swept through her mind like leaves in the wind, like sticks in a river. Moving on to somewhere else. She observed them as they floated by.

The moment became her, she became the moment.

She saw things clearly here, from outside. She could see everything as they really where, freed from obsession, from her self.

She lifted above her problems, her desires. The grass underneath her left her body. She floated above the ground.

A scream. A bird far up in the sky, a predator searching the land. She felt the bird. The bird was her. She was the bird… (more)

Castaway

Please help me.

I’m stuck on this island, my boat is stranded. My shipmates are all dead. This will be the end of me if I can’t get away. Please, help me. Help me.

Ben Torkelson

He added the coordinates he had calculated from the stars.

His last bottle was thrown into the sea. The waves carried it away. On one side the ship was stuck to the rocks underneath, the rocks the storm had thrown it onto months ago. On the other side a deep abyss went into the darkness in the clear, transparent water.

He stood on the bridge, looking at the island in the falling darkness. The Rock. The silhouette made it feel threatening. A strange sound from somewhere in there. It couldn’t be a bird. There were no birds.

He walked down to his cabin, into the lower chambers. One staircase led further down to where the water came in. He had dived down there several times to get the cans and the bottles. The liquor helped the first days and weeks, but now it was just making things worse. There was hardly any left.

He looked out towards the sea, towards where he had come from. To where he had chosen to live. He turned towards the rock. It was black in the darkness of the night. Once again he heard the sound.

A rumble, like if it came from somewhere inside the rock, as if the rock itself was alive.

The next day he went in to the island with his little boat. There was no more food on the ship, and the island offered nothing, nothing at all, just rocky ground and stones. Even the fish seemed to flee the area, even the whales seemed to stay far away.

He climbed up on the highest point where he had build a pile of wood from the ship, looked out. There was something there, far out in the horizon. Sails. He rubbed his eyes, looked again. A ship was coming.

He lit the pile. The smoke was dark and thick. The fire was burning vividly. The sun was going down.

The ground shook.

The ship was turning his way.

The ground shook harder….(more)

The King’s Arrival

He was changed. Huge tentacles came out of his back, waving in the air. His eyes were distant, blank, like a dead man, but he breathed.

On narrow paths and long roads their journey went. People stared as they walked by, astonished, surprised. Terrified.

An omen. New times had come.

In the darkness at night Mandlos and Pendlor heard their god murmur, whisper and speak in strange tongues. He never addressed them, never gave them the honour of their attention. He just was there, existing somewhere else.

One day he finally spoke.

I need a sacrifice.

The two men, his two most loyal servants looked at each other.

-We’re not worthy! Mandlos threw himself to the ground before him.

-What ever you desire, we will get it for you, oh Lord of Dark and Light, our saviour, our destruction.

I want blood, the creature said. Its eyes were flashing, its tentacles waving. What had once been a man was now a monster, a creature of darkness. But he was still their king… (more)

Thirst

Something moved in the pool of green liquid. A sphere came up. A head emerged. The form of a man was rising, taking shape in the slime. 

He screamed.

-We did it! It’s alive!

Met and Pict had been working on this project for ages. To create life, a human being from scratch. They had made it.

Magic. Alchemy. Science and Witchcraft. They had mixed it all to generate their creation. Here he was, muscular, strong. Alive.

-Hello! Met said. -Welcome to reality!

The man stood there, breathing heavily. He looked at his body, at his hands. At the two men watching him from the shore.

-Come! We have so much to show you!

He took a step closer, a bit unsteady. Another, then one more. Pict held a blanket out to cover him. He walked by as if they were not there.

-Hey! Where are you going?

He walked on. All the two scientists could do was to follow.

-You can’t leave yet! We have tests to do! Met tried to calm down the decided steps of the man creature.

-I demand you to stop! Pict said. No reaction at all.

They followed him down the slope, in towards town.

-This is not good, Pict said. -He shouldn’t go down there. That will be trouble for sure!

Met ran down in front of him, held his hands up.

-Stop! As your creator I forbid you to walk on! I command you to…

The man creature walked on like if he wasn’t there. Met fell aside.

Pict jumped up on his back to push him down. The creation was to strong, stronger than any man they had ever known.

He walked into town. The scientists stood back.

-Where is he going? Met’s voice was shaking, thin and weak… (more)