Illustrated Short Stories
Frank’s dream is to bring the dead back to life. He experiments with insects, and moves on to lizards and mice. Humans are his goal. He learns he’s playing a dangerous game.
You can listen to the video below, or check out my post on steemit where the video version is published in written form.
This story was originally published in two parts here on Fictionspawn Monsters, and was later re-edited into one. You can read it here: Revive
It wasn’t the treads’ fault. It was the people controlling them. Mind control. There was no escape. The treads were everywhere, connected to every mind, every thought, every heartbeat.
Milka opened the door.
-Come in, he said. -Fast!
He looked down the street. Up the street. Then closed the door.
-Are you OK? Tanker looked at him with a worried frown. His friend had always been nervous by nature, but he acted strange.
-I’m perfect! Milka guided Tanker in to the living room. -Do you feel it?
-Feel what? Tanker looked around the room. Suddenly he realised what it was. The treads were different. They didn’t tell him what to do. He looked at Milka with big, scared eyes. -What did you do?
…Three creatures came walking as stairs in a staircase appeared under their feet each step.
-Should we run? She said after a while.
-No. This is worth dying for.
The creatures came towards them. They floated in the air, hovering just a little bit over the ground. Their suits covered their bodies, their faces, but they seemed to have two arms and two legs.
They surrounded the two teenagers.
-Er… Hello! Marty held a hand up in a greeting.
-Hey! Let go! Rebecca said, but truth was, no one had touched her. She was floating in the air, just like them. They both were. They moved into the space craft….
There was a box in the basement. A box Makki had never seen before. It had strange drawings and symbols on it. Faces with creepy expressions.
He tried to open it. The cover didn’t budge. He pulled and pushed, turned it around. Shook it. Something moved inside, but it was securely sealed.
He got crowbar, pushed it in under the lid. Held on to the box, pulling the crowbar down. The lid broke.
He looked inside. He couldn’t see anything, but it smelled horrible, like rotting road kill. He turned it up side down to see if something would fall out. It didn’t.
Disappointed he dropped the box on the floor and went upstairs. He started cutting some bread. He was home alone, and he hated cooking. He ate a sandwich, and went into the living room, sat down in front of the TV. He felt strange, like if someone was watching him. He could hear sounds as well, weird whispering noises…
Rewritten, read out loud and republished. Originally published on fictionspawn.com February 21. 2017
(Audio track)
The lighthouse shows way for lost sailors. The wind pulls the stone walls, threatening to tear them apart, but these walls have held storms for a hundred years.
This one was harder, though. Much harder. The sea was higher than he’d ever seen. The wind stronger. The thunder rumbled louder…
That summer Ron stayed home a lot. His so called friends wasn’t treating him well. He’d had enough, he just wanted to be alone.
He started going for walks at night, roaming around the streets, exploring the gardens of others when they were sleeping.
Sometimes he saw someone walk in a distance. At first he was hiding in the shadows, but night after night he started following them. Sneaking after them, finding out where they lived or where they were going.
One night he saw Gary come out of Andrew’s house…
