Inside: I’m currently reading the “Monster Hunter International” series so … influence.
This blog entry is Rated PG-13 or something like that.
There will be violence. Maybe some cussin’, too. Let’s go. This is monster fiction so, you know. It’s more of a creative writing exercise. Geekin’ out and keeping the juices flowing.
Also, this entry has multiple pages (if you make it that far). The page links are all the way at the bottom of the blog entry (below the Share This and Like This sections).
I used to collect comics. Vivid colors, tights and kick ass, acrobatic fights. Good vs. evil. I’d fall asleep with a comic open on my chest dreaming of saving the world and a girl. Not necessarily in that order. Innocent times.
There are some things they got right. There are a lot of things they got wrong. For one, if you’re a woman how are you going to kick ass with your girls half hanging out? I mean, unless they’re bulletproof or shoot lasers.
But mainly it’s physics. That’s what’ll get you in the end. The Laws of Physics. You could say that these people had a problem with authority and laws. I don’t know what they were thinking. If I had known that this would actually work in some loose interpretation of the word, I would have been on another continent.
Playing around with this sh*t like it was Dungeons and Dragons. Witching hour, full moon. Well, how’s this for LARPing, dumbasses? I knew I shouldn’t have hooked up with these theater people.
“I suffer for my art, man. Let’s drop E, dude. My understudy is having a party tonight; you should come.”
I’m not ashamed to admit that I was screaming and running for my life when I slipped in what was left of Denise, the understudy. She was right there in the middle of the rug in the living room. Candles arranged in a circle around her, some knocked over, some still lit.
I slipped in the pile of recently human offal and fell with a loud crack as I crushed what was left of a human rib cage. The smell. I turned back to see what I tripped on. A severed human hand. I tried to get up to run. I kept slipping. My foot stepped on something rubbery and I felt it burst with a squelch beneath my shoes. The smell of raw sewage filled the room.
I think I panicked then. Had some kind of blackout. Shell shock. Whatever you want to call it. I remember almost making it to the front door.
That’s when I heard the growl from behind me. Something was there. Like — it wasn’t and then it was. Something hit me and the next thing I remember I was in the air. I was inside the house, something hit me in the back, and then I was in the air outside of the house. Long enough to see the sky. Clear night, stars trying to blink through the suburban light haze, and a few dark clouds silhouetted around the full moon.
Then I was on the lawn, face down in the grass with the sound of shattering glass still ringing in my ears. It was a tiny anemic little lawn in front one of those ubiquitous McMansions.
I think I lost track of time for a bit. Like a needle skipping on a vinyl record. My head throbbed when I tried to push myself up
Something roared behind me. I felt it through the length of my body against the ground. I felt my organs quiver inside me.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a few lights flick on in the bedroom windows in the cul de sac. A few shouts to keep it down. My brain told me to yell, “Help” or “Call 911!”
All that came out was a silent stutter.
I scrambled clumsily to my feet, trying to run. I fell back down on my ass from a spell of dizziness and a wave of nausea. Is that a concussion?
I thought I saw a silhouette by the window I had just been launched out of. I squinted my eyes. The front door burst off the hinges and rocketed across the yard, hitting a car parked by the curb so hard that its alarm went off, its airbag deployed and the alarms of all of the adjacent cars went off sympathetically.
Something stepped into the doorway. It was Bobby. I called him. “Bobby?”
He turned his head toward me. There was nothing in his eyes but a blank, cold stare. He took another step. It was Bobby standing there, but his shadow was — something else. Bobby took another step into the yard, into the moonlight. As the clouds parted, I saw Bobby’s body change to match the shadow. The street lights flickered and as one, went out.
I think I cursed then. I said a dying man’s prayer and used the Lord’s name in vain for good measure. If anyone was out there listening, I’d get his attention one way or another.