Revive Pt 2/2

Revive 2.jpg

First part here.

His brain didn’t work the way it should. It was… Diffuse. Strange. Like if there was some kind of fog, some kind of… death. He felt nothing. He wasn’t sure if he was even alive.

He saw the village further down. Remembering something. Some… person. Eyes. A touch. Soon it was gone.

He arrived between the houses. People were walking by, some saluted. Others ignored him. He didn’t understand. He didn’t care. They were things, moving, walking.

Martin saw a strange man walking down the street. He jumped aside, as the other almost bumped into him. Hey, Jones! I didn’t recognise you. Jones the gravedigger just passed by, like he didn’t even see him. He walked strangely. He must be drunk, said Martin when he was a bit down the road. So unlike him.

He came to a house. It looked familiar, somehow. What was that, deep inside him? Feelings? Memories? He needed to feel something. He needed to remember. Something to show him he existed, that he was alive. Something real.

He entered. His shady eyesight made it hard to see. Some sound from within the house, from the next room. It was hard to tell what it was, his ears were full of noise, a background noise without meaning. Or was it his brain? He tried to think about it, but his thoughts were slow, too slow. They didn’t make sense.

Darcy came walking into the hallway. He was standing there, looking at her. She used to be his wife, but he could not really remember. She looked at him.

What’s wrong, darling…? She said. He said nothing. The expression on his face was…. Strange. Dead, somehow. Empty. Scary. What’s that you have on your head? There were cables and metal tubes sticking out on one side.

No answer. He just stood there. Something was wrong. She took a step back. He followed her. She started running.

He caught her. Held her down. She tried to fight him, but he was too strong. He needed to feel something. Anything. He bit her. Bit her in the face. She screamed even harder. Started hitting him. He could feel the punches. A little bit. Not pain. Not even molest. Just the recognition of something hitting his skin. It felt good. Alive. Real. He started hitting her back. In the face. Again and again. He felt something. A strange pleasure of violence. Some of the life he vaguely remembered was still in him. She didn’t move any more. He punched her face a while longer. It wasn’t the same when she didn’t move. He started biting her head.

Martin came running in the open door. He’d heard the noise, and came to see what was happening. Darcy! Is everything… He stopped. Her husband was lying over her. Chewing on her. He backed out.

Help! Help, someone!

The creature got up on his feet. Walked towards the noise. Out the door. Martin ran away, screaming. The other villagers came out of their houses.

He’s killed Mrs Jones! He’s killed her!

But it’s Mr Jones? How could you? One of the villagers exclaimed in disbelief.

That’s not Mr Jones… Said another. It’s a monster! Kill it!

The villagers picked up weapons. Axes, spades, whatever they had at hand. They were many now.

He looked at them. Their weapons. They were after him. They wanted to hurt him. Fear? Maybe. Something strange deep underneath the clouds in his mind. Fear. Danger. He turned, ran. Down the slope, over the fields, into the forest.

The farmers came running after him. Shouting. Dogs barking. A dog reached, him, barking around his legs. A small one. He tried to kick it, but it was difficult when he was running. Another dog, a big one, came. Bit his leg. He fell. Two others started biting his arms. Fear. Definitely fear. A farmer arrived, stabbed him with a trident. Another hit his head with a big pickaxe. Pain. He was alive. He was beyond doubt alive.

Now he was dying again.

http://www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/hwr.aspx

http://observer.com/2016/05/were-closer-than-ever-to-bringing-the-dead-back-to-life/

http://theweek.com/articles/474803/7-bizarre-tales-people-coming-back-from-dead

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Resurrection

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/death

Tears of Blood

Revive Pt 1/2

Revive

Freakinstone was a scientist, and he was crazy. Good old spickedly mad, as they said in the village. After the great destruction, science was still evolving, but at a personal level, like in the old days. He had learned from his father, and he had access to a lot of old technology from the great metal disposal area close to his old castle.

He used electronic devices to get dead things to life. A mix of chords and circuits of copper and liquid biochemical substances had already gotten several species back from death.

He’d started out with a beetle. Insects were easier, their cells seemed to regenerate faster, and there were more cells that were expendable. The battery assured energy. He pushed the little button. It didn’t move, just lay there. He had to have done something wrong. Somewhere in his calculations there had to be some kind of failure. He picked up his papers when he saw a movement in the corner of his eye. He stopped. Stared. Did the little creep move a leg?

It happened again, now he saw it clearly. The insect moved another leg. It started walking.

Success. He had made it. The greatest technological pass ever. He had conquered death.

He had moved on to small reptiles, lizards. They moved around, but were quite clumsy and stupid. He had some control over them as well. The first mouse was a great breakthrough. He needed them fresh, so he killed them himself when the electronics were already attached. They moved around more freely, and even though he had his remote they were harder to control than the reptiles, and much harder than the insects. They had more will somehow, if such thing even existed.

He needed to complete his work. He needed a human. A human for him to control. It would be very practical to have someone to do all the work around here, so he could focus a hundred percent on his science.

He dug up a body from the graveyard. A child, easier to carry. Several nights light could be seen in the tower of his castle. He worked without stopping until it was ready. He turned it on. It started moving a little.

Hello little one! He said, cheerfully. How do you feel?

Ghhehehehennnsnsnam…. A strange gurgling sound came from the recently revived child. It sounded like it was in pain. Horrible pain. It didn’t move. No eye contact. Some shaking was all the movement he could see. This was no human. It was a vegetable. He turned it off, disappointed.

He looked through his papers. The problem was clear. The brain had been too damaged from rot and other processes. He needed a fresh body.

He felt bad, but he would do anything in the name of science. He attached the fresh corps to the information circuits he had made especially for the human brain.

He looked out of the window. The daylight was starting to lighten up the sky. Down at the graveyard the gravedigger had already started working.

He grabbed a knife and left the room.

The gravedigger was always there alone, digging graves. Freakinstone went down, walked slowly towards him.

Ah, Freakinstone! Said the gravedigger. Nice to see you. Could you believe someone dug up a dead body the other day? It was the Jeff and Alice’s kid, who died from a heart failure. Some people are just crazy, aren’t they? They… What’s up? You look strange… What are you doing with that kn… nooo! Aaaahhh!! Help me!!! Ahghhh!

Freakinstone turned the gravedigger’s carriage, poured out the dirt to empty it. He got the dead body into it, and hurried up to his old castle. He had to get started fast, before the body started to rot.

After some hours of work he was ready. He pushed the power button he had placed behind his ear.

The gravedigger made some complaining noises. He opened his eyes. A strange, dead stare. He wanted to get up from the bench.

Hello! He said. I eh… You had an… accident! That’s it, an accident. Now you need to rest. No. No-no-no! You need to stay down and rest!

The gravedigger grabbed him by the throat. Lifted him up. Lay him down on the same bench he had been lying on himself. Choked him to death.

He stood there for a moment. His eyes were blurry, like if the room was full of smoke. Or was it his brain? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight. He felt nothing. Knew nothing. Or at least not much. Some blurry memories, but he wasn’t sure what they was. He wasn’t even sure if he was dead or alive.

He left and headed for the village.

Part two

https://tgifrankenstein.wordpress.com/2017/04/16/how-mary-shelley-named-her-antagonist/

https://milliebotreads.wordpress.com/2017/05/26/judging-a-book-by-its-cover-frankenstein/

Hitchhiking (Fear of the unknown)

The Old Man who Knew

The Old Man who Knew.jpg

There was a great carpet dwelling above the world. Inside it. Around it. It was conscious, yet not intelligent. Awake, but it did not think. One, a spectre of selves, everywhere and nowhere. No one knew how it worked, not even itself. It was pure observation. It knew, but did not calculate. It felt, but did not care. It was existence. Reality. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The old man sat by the window, looking out on the valley he’d lived in all his life. He knew everything about that valley. Every little rock, every old tree stump. He loved it. The valley was the best place on Earth for him.

He walked out on the porch. Watching the little lake. He knew the little lake. He the kinds of fish swimming in it. He knew how to catch them. He knew how which berries there was in the forest on the other side, which mushrooms he could eat and which ones he could not. He sat down on his old stool, as he had done so many times before.

He knew a lot. He knew how the flowers bloomed at springtime. How the hills exploded in colours in autumn. He knew how it felt to love and he knew the pain of hate. He knew the arouse of glory, the deep sorrow of loss. He knew. He knew a lot.

A cat came by. He knew the cat.

Hello, little cat, he said cheerfully. The cat came to him, stroking itself to his leg.

You’re a friendly little chap, aren’t you! Said the old man. The cat purred, enjoying the old man’s company.

He did not know if the cat was a he or a she, but knew it was not important for him to know. The cat was his friend, and friends were good to have.

He was old now. Very old. He knew life was coming to it’s end, and he wasn’t sad about it. He’d lived. He’d had a rich life, with sorrows and laughs. He wouldn’t have been without any of them. Even the painful ones.

Today he was looking out on the field in front of his house. Something dark was hanging over the grass. Over the trees. And he knew. He knew his time had come, he’d lived for a long time now. And he knew there was nothing to fear. As death came, he closed his eyes and accepted. Time had come.

A little frog opened it’s eyes in a swamp in Amazonas.

https://kavarastories.com/2017/05/31/knowledge-unconsumed/

https://yashmody.wordpress.com/2016/12/26/self-consciousness-vs-self-awareness/

Fate

Plague

Pesta

Her name was Plague. Pesta. She hadn’t been around for quite a while. Well, a bit there, a bit here, but no. Not like before. After the Black Death she needed to rest for a while. But it had been fun. Oh, yes.

She was getting bored lately though. She grabbed her rake and broom and went out.

Humans had been fighting disease quite hard the last centuries. Medicine. How naive they were, thinking they could stop her. Sure, they could slow her down a bit, but she stopped when she wanted to. Though antibiotics had been holding her back for quite a while now, her days seemed to be back. Evolution wasn’t always a bad thing. Their immune system was a hard enemy, but medicine was her best ally in that aspect.

Fourteenth century Europe had been a blast. Scandinavia. Ah, what an easy target. People didn’t even wash. She remembered it like yesterday. The fear. The suffering. It had been wonderful. Decades of going around, emptying villages and farms. Letting some poor souls live here and there, just to make it all interesting. But things had changed. Not that she wasn’t going there, but it wasn’t really the best area to start. Africa. Africa was her continent these days. No medicine, and the rest of the planet didn’t seem to care.

She found a nice little village. This seems like a nice place to warm up. She took her broom and swiped the village clean. Moved on to the next one. Then another. Then she moved into town. In town she used her rake, letting some live. She spread better that way.

For fifty years she roamed the earth. This was even better than the middle ages. So easy to move around. The poor humans tried everything. Quarantines. Travel bans. All kinds of chemicals. They called her antibiotic resistant plague bacteria. How little did they know about the real world. About the Eternals.

One day Death sat down on a rock. He had been traveling around with her all the way. He always was.

You had your fun now, he said. I’m exhausted. We’ve wiped out than half the planet’s population. At least. Probably a lot more. Not that that’s a bad thing, but still, quite a take.

What about him? She said, looking over at Hunger.

I’ll speak to him, said Death. You’re the one who started it. He won’t stop until you do.

Whatever you say, cousin, she replied. I don’t know why War bailed out on us so soon, though.

I guess it’s just not time, said Death and glared at Fate. She was sitting on her throne. Her face showed nothing but total control. It never did.

Don’t worry, he said thoughtful. Time will come.

https://mythsandmicrobes.com/2016/09/29/pesta-the-personification-of-the-black-plague-in-norway/

http://sandman.wikia.com/wiki/The_Endless

Hate

 

Shattered

Shattered

Darkness in my soul. A wound. A memory.

Pain inflicted. Sadness. Loss. Nothing could ever

mend what happened. No one could ever repay the debt.

Revenge. Horror. Madness and sorrow. A future so bright

shattered to pieces. An illusion. A source of confusion.

Hate. The road to destruction. A morbid seduction.

It’s time to die.

In memory of my beloved dog Fenris and the horrible act of injustice he was victim of.

Pesticide

pesticide

Dale and Mary were making a story about an accident in an old pesticide laboratory. Many years had gone by since then, and the place was still abandoned.

Several workers had died of intoxication from the pesticide emission caused by the explosion. The hole area had for many years been considered a no go zone, because of the high level of toxicity. Now the danger seemed to be over, but the plants, the animals, everything was dead. Once green cultural landscapes and forests, the accident had left the place a toxic desert. The lake was a lifeless pool.

They passed by the old industrial worker’s houses, up to the pesticide factory. The buildings where beautiful, with the characteristic aesthetics of old industry. They didn’t make factories that way anymore. Big windows and decorations. Red brick walls. They walked around the area for a while, taking photos. The factory had all the signs of having been evacuated in a hurry. Things were thrown around everywhere. The floor was full of rubbish, chairs and tables were tipped over.

We have to be careful, said Dale looking up. This could fall down any moment.

At the end of the hall they found the laboratory. There was a big hole in the wall were the pesticide tanks had exploded. Old file drawers. Broken measure bottles and laboratory stuff. There seemed to be some construction in progress the day of the accident, carpenters tools where lying around.

Mary was going through some documents on a desk.

Look! she said, astonished. It’s a project log!

Dale were looking around in some piles of bottles on the other side of the room while Mary was investigating the file.

Listen to this! she said. The scientists were working on a new chemical, one that was going to be the most efficient ever!

She read out loud: “There have been some complications. When the X9 substance is mixed whit the common DEET, the insects seems to be strenghtned rather then weakened”. Further down it said: “The effect of the mixture seems to be even stronger on spiders”.

This is great! We need all of these documents. Dale looked around to find more. Suddenly he stopped, staring into the hall next door.

What’s that?

Some kind of strange web covered part of the opening.

He went over, took a pen from a drawer and poked it. Mary was taking pictures.

Something moved in the shadows. Keep taking photos! said Dale exited. They moved closer, carefully. They heard a sound behind them. They turned around. A giant spider jumped at them. It caught Mary. Pulled her through the door. She was screaming. Then there was silence.

Mary! shouted Dale. Mary!!! He grabbed a pointed saw from the floor. Mary! Where are you?

Dale… please, help me… She sounded weak. He moved into the other room. She was hanging on the wall, A sticky web was covering her body. He ran over to her, started cutting the web. It stuck to the saw like glue.

Her face was pale. Her lips blue. Dale… Look out… Her voice could hardly be heard. The spider attacked him from behind. Dale fell over. Hurt his knee. The Spider charged at him. He held out the saw, cut it. It bit him. He could feel the poison enter his blood. Shooting pain went through his body. He cut the spider’s head again and again. It fell lifeless to the ground.

Dale got up. Walked weakly over to where Mary was hanging, started cutting the web. He realized she was dead. He felt dizzy. He needed air. He staggered out of the opening in the wall. After a few steps he fell on the ground and died.

https://my3sixty5challenge.com/2016/10/06/day-147-the-roundhead-prelude-10-hiding-inside/

http://www.toxicsaction.org/problems-and-solutions/pesticides

Mantis Religiosa

 

Hate

hatred

Johnny hated Swedish people. They were disgusting. He wanted them all dead. Every day there were more of them in his neighborhood as well. He couldn’t stand it. Ever since a Swedish kid beat him up in kindergarten he’d hated them all.

They gave him bad dreams as well. Nightmares. Hordes of evil Swedish people doing him harm. But there was something else. Some creature in the darkness. At first it scared him.

One night, in the worst dream he ever had, the creature came out and destroyed the evil Swedes. The dark being is my friend, he thought. It will protect me from them.

After a while he started seeing it awake as well. He had come home from his favorite bar. A Swedish guy was working there now. Repulsively polite he had been. That was the worst kind. The polite ones. He was sitting there, staring at the wall. Hating. Hating the Swede in the bar. In his bar. His annoying smile, and that stupid language. Why couldn’t they just speak Norwegian like normal people? Then, in his darkest moment the shadows started moving. At first he got scared,then he recognized the creature from his dreams. It was looking at him. It’s eyes told him not to worry. We’ll get the fucking Swede. We’ll get him good.

From that day on the monster was there every night. He didn’t always see it, but he felt it’s presence. It was there, comforting him. It was them against the Swedes, and the more he hated, the stronger his protector seemed to become.

One day he read in the newspaper that a Swedish guy was found dead in his neighborhood. Good, thought Johnny. Goooood. He kept reading. The Swedish guy had left Discopub. That was his pub! It was the disgusting Swede from the bar! His body ha been found somewhere by the river. Torn to pieces while he was still alive. Tortured to death. The feeling came back. The presence. He looked up. The creature were lying in front of him, looking at him. Calmly. Satisfied. Could it be…? It’s eyes gave him the answer.

It’s what you wanted. The words came from inside Johnny’s head, made of his own thoughts.

Johnny responded, saying out loud: No… I didn’t want him to be murdered! You can’t murder people!

It’s too late. The monster didn’t look friendly anymore. It looked evil. It crawled towards him. The shadows seemed to follow it. Johnny moved backwards. What are you doing..? Let me be!

He was trapped in a corner. The creature pushed him to the floor. Licked it’s dark lips. Hunger. Evil. Johnny screamed. Help! Help me!!! The monster put his big mouth to his head. Sucked on it. His screams could no longer be heard. Slowly it swallowed him alive.

It left through the window. The nightmare had just begun.

http://www.globalissues.org/article/165/racism

http://www.short-story.me/horror-stories/734-the-three-dolls.html

https://fictionspawn.com/2016/06/20/the-apple-grove-2/

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Tears of Blood

skottfoss

Gundersen was watching his paper factory. It was all going very well these days. They had a lot of profit. He was getting rich. Very rich.

The workers kept complaining, though. Assholes. He had built a great factory they could work in, and all they ever did was whimper. Our children are hungry, they said. We can’t afford medicines. And with the accidents lately everything were getting more complicated.

A little girl died in the paper compressor just a few days ago. He was there. The image was burned into his mind. Half her body crushed. Her face. Swollen, with one of her eyes sticking out in a strange way, blood running down her cheeks like tears. He shivered. He didn’t want to think about it. Not that he really cared, workers could always be replaced. He just didn’t want to see it.

The workers lived on the other side of the factory building. The lower administrators was on the same side as him and the rest of the leadership, but on the other side of a big fence. They couldn’t have these people running around in the important people’s neighbourhood. They belonged with the workers, but still, it was better to keep them separated to keep things in order. He didn’t trust any of them.

Lately a shadow had been seen at night. Sneaking around between the houses. Some said it was a ghost, awaken by the immense misery in the workers quarters. Evil spawned out of suffering. Gundersen didn’t know. It didn’t really matter, either, as long as it stayed on the other side of the valley.

As he stood there on his small balcony watching the factory area he saw someone or something come out from between the factory buildings, running over the bridge crossing the river. It looked human but was limping in a strange way, like it was dragging something. Moving from side to side, wiggling, stopping, moving forward again. Creepy. It was coming towards his side of the valley, and disappeared in the darkness.

He went down to tell his butler to inform the guards. The butler was not there. Martin! He said. No answer. Martin, where are you? Strange, he thought. Where could he be? He picked up the phone. It was dead. Lazy phone operators.

He went over to the front door, opened it. Darkness. Dead silence. Something moved in the shadows. Who’s there? He said. No answer. He closed the door. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.

He went back upstairs, and looked out of the balcony window. The main factory gate was open.

He heard steps in the stairs behind him. Slowly. Each step was followed by a dragging sound. Moving up towards his floor. He turned around. Hello? he said. Who’s there? No answer. Answer me! He tried to sound dominant and tough, but could hear his voice weak and scared. The footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs. He stared. There was no one there.

Silence. Fear. A figure appeared in the darkness. Stood still for a moment. Charged at him with one leg hanging behind like a fell. Screaming a scream of hate and horror. The voice of a little girl. Tonight you die!!! A twisted face. One eye sticking out of it’s socket. Tears of blood running down her cheeks. She was changed. A glow of sinister revenge had replaced the coldness of her dead eyes.

She lifted him up and pushed him backwards. She was strong. The glass door broke. They fell off the balcony. His head hit the ground. He gained consciousness being dragged through the factory gate. Help! He screamed. Somebody help me!!! The girl was laughing. Giggling. Amused of his terror.

In the noise from the paper compressor no one could hear his screams.

http://firstindustrialrevolution.weebly.com/working-and-living-conditions.html

http://www.globalissues.org/article/57/corporations-and-workers-rights

https://fictionspawn.com/2016/08/04/the-witch-doctor/

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Lake Fear

lake-fear

Ronny loved fishing. It was in fact his favorite thing to do. Every weekend he took the car and went somewhere to get some fish. He loved all about it. The waiting. The suspense of getting the fish on the hook, getting it out of the water. The fight, when the fish was jumping around on land, trying to get back into the water. The kill. He loved the kill.

This weekend he had gone further away from home than ever, he had been driving for hours and hours. He found a great spot on the side of a small, deep lake in a mountain valley. He put up his tent and went to sleep, exhausted.

He got up early. The place was beautiful. High mountains on every side, waterfalls running down the mountainsides. The water was crystal clear and he could see how the bottom went almost straight down into deep darkness.

When he had eaten some breakfast, he found a worm in the dirt. It curled and undulated as he pinned it on the hook. He threw it in. Ah, this was the life! Silence. Just him, nature and the fish waiting to be caught. After a while the float started moving. A fish! He pulled in. It was a perch. He got it on land, and as it was bouncing between the rocks he got his knife. After a short fight the fish were lying on the ground, the head parted from the body.

Great! Lunch is fixed, but it’s a bit small, thought Ronny. Maybe he could catch another one? It would be nice to make sure he had dinner as well. He threw the string out again, and waited. It didn’t take long before he got something again. He pulled in, and got a big trout on land. He fought it for a while, and soon the fish lay dead on the ground.

Now he had lunch and dinner! But it was still early, and this seemed to be a good moment. He threw in the string again, and waited. Soon another fish was on the hook. He pulled it up again, but this one was too small, and he didn’t even know what it was. I’ll throw it back in, he thought. He grabbed the fish with his right hand, and was about to get it off the hook, when he noticed a big, sharp metal hook sticking out of the fish by the tail and a strange string attached to it. That’s odd, he thought.

The string straightened. The hook speared into his hand. He screamed. He tried to get it out, but it was stuck. The string straightened even more, pulling him towards the water. Help! He shouted. Somebody help me! But there was no one around. The string hauled him into the lake, pulled him under water.

In the depths of the lake his ears hurt from the pressure. He had swallowed a lot of water. A huge creature floated before him. A reptile, many meters long. He could see its big malicious eyes even under water. Fangs. He tried to swim away, tried to escape,. His lungs filled with water as he tried to scream in panic. Fast as a fish, huge claws grabbed him. Pushed him onto the rocks. A sharp metal edge cut into his neck as he died.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selma_(lake_monster)

http://lakemonstersoftheworld.blogspot.com.es/

https://fictionspawn.com/2016/07/28/ufo-roadkill/

 

 

The Evil

The Evil One.jpg

The night was dark. Lightning and thunder shook the village. The little family were sitting in the hut, scared as always when the thunder gods attacked the earth. People said they brought someone with them when they left, and maybe it would be their turn this time. The little child cried. He could feel his parents’ fear.

A knock on the door. Another one. Then a third.

Who’s there? Asked Simil. No-one answered. Silence. He got on his feet, picked up his new bronce axe. Moved closer to the door.
Simil, darling. Don’t… Said his young wife. He tried again. Who’s… The door splintered to pieces. His body was ripped open. His young wife screamed. The child didn’t even breath. The shadow creature who entered was no god. It was too dark. Too evil. They both knew they were next.

Hey! It’s great! Said Hans. He stuck his head out of a hole in the tree far up the trunk. Nils looked up at him. He didn’t want to follow.
It’s too high, he said. I’ll wait here.

The tree was huge. The trunk was at least two meters wide, and God knows how tall it could be. It had to be the biggest tree in the forest. Despite Hans’ illusion Nils didn’t feel good about it. Come down, Hans, he said. Let’s go home? It’s getting dark.
Get up here! Said Hans. It’s not dangerous. The whole tree was hollow, and he had climbed up inside of the trunk. Chicken! The word cut Nils in the soul. He didn’t want to be chicken. He swallowed and entered the tree. Climbed up on the inside. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. What if there was rats or something. Or snakes! But he kept going up. The view is amazing, man! He heard Hans further up. He got to the opening and looked out. It was true, the view was amazing. He could see all the way into town. The streetlights were on. Underneath him the ancient cairns looked like small piles of grit. He couldn’t see Hans.

Up here it’s even cooler! He was sitting on a branch further up.
I’m not going up there, man, said Nils. He looked down. It had to be twenty meters. Minimum, probably the double.
Whatever, said Hans. Chicken. This time it didn’t work. A lightning flash came from nowhere, followed by a loud rumble, just over them.  Fuck, man, I’m going down! Rain started pouring. We shouldn’t be up here when it’s lightning. He started climbing downwards.
Yeah yeah, he heard Hans saying further up. You’re probably right. But the tree’s awesome!

A couple of meters down Nils met solid ground. The tree was… Closed? It couldn’t be. Was there another way? But no. There was no other way. Hans, the trunk’s closed! Hans was straight over him now. Closed? Yeah, right! He laughed and jumped down. He looked around the room. You’re right, it’s closed! What the hell..?

Another thunder outside. They looked up. The sky had darkened, they could hardly see. This just doesn’t make any sense, said Hans. He started climbing up again.

The storm had gotten closer. It was straight above them. I think it’s better to stay here, said Nils with a shaking voice. In a lightning flash they saw a being in the opening. A contour of a dark figure. Nils screamed. Hans stared. It was dark again. Dark as in a tomb.

What was that?

Another lightning. A face. Just beside them. A horrible, evil face. A crazy grin. Hans were lifted up from the ground. Nils saw the scene in flashes of lightning. Hans where hanging in the air. Darkness. A clawed hand cut through his belly. Pitch dark again. The sound of Hans’ dead body thrown into the wall.

Screaming Nils climbed up towards the opening above. He heard the creature behind him. Grousing. Laughing. Spitting. Touching his legs. Teasing him. He leaped out of the hole and fell. To the sound of evil laughter he broke his neck and died twenty meters below.

http://www.shortnscarystories.com/

http://www.brainharvestmag.com/2012/02/the-new-phone/

https://fictionspawn.com/2016/07/10/lords-of-the-dead/

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Mantis Religiosa

mantis2

Aaaaaahhh!!! The screams were terrifying. They came from the main square. Johnson and Cohen ran towards the sound calling for reinforcement. People were running the opposite way.
A monster!!! A man screamed when he saw the two police officers. There’s a monster killing people! They saw the monster. It was a giant Mantis. Eight feet tall. It’s clawy front legs were holding a man fast. The man was screaming in terror and pain. The huge insect was devouring him alive.

The two police-officers started shooting. They shot the mantis in the body and the head. The monster turned her head in a creepy way. Watching them. Judging them. The bullets went through her shell, but didn’t seem to have much effect. She jumped towards them. One of her back legs threw Cohen off his feet. The front legs caught Johnson. Lifted him up. Trapped him. Her beak speared into his head, dug for a moment. Ripped it off with the spine attached.

As she threw the body away Cohen knew he was next. He was on the ground. His gun was lying some feet away. The mantis was watching him. He could not move. He could hardly breath. The two arms shot out towards him at the speed of a bullet, pulled him up. Bit him again and again, ripping off big pieces of flesh. He died in horrific pain.

Reinforcement arrived. They had bigger guns. Assault rifles. They started shooting. Bullets piercing her body. She jumped the fence to the park and disappeared between the trees.

Mike was sitting on his porch playing guitar. He was getting quite good at it, he thought. He even created his own songs. Soon he would be famous. Soon. Suddenly he heard a strange sound in the garden.

He stopped playing for a moment. Listening. Hm. Probably just a cat. Then the big tree in the garden moved for a moment. He stopped again. That had to be a big cat. A giant insect jumped up on his balcony. A mantis. His chair fell over. He was lying on his back. The two arms shot out towards him. His guitar splintered. He got on his feet and ran into the house.

He ran in panic into his fathers electronics workshop and closed the door. The big living-room window broke. He heard the Mantis enter the house. He was terrified. He was standing in the corner with his back to the wall. The workshop had no other exit. A claw went through the door. Then another. The door was ripped off. A huge mantis head came in through the opening. Mike was scared stiff. The head made a 180 degree turn. Scanning the room. Searching for it’s pray. It stopped. Five eyes were staring at Mike.

The mantis entered. Lifted her front legs slowly. She knew her pray could not escape.

Mike felt something behind his leg. He grabbed it to defend himself. It was a fire-extinguisher. He held it up trying to hide behind it. The knife sharp legs shot out. The claws cut into the container and pulled it to the mantis in a lightning-fast movement. Ice cold CO2 poured out onto her face and body. She froze white. Mike took a chair and threw it at her. The frozen body broke into pieces and fell to the floor.

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https://fictionspawn.com/2016/06/24/monsters-from-space/