My submission for the writing contest(?) in the group. Please let me know if there are any spelling/gramatical errors. :) Thanks for reading He woke up in darkness. That was all that he could see. Darkness. The first thing on his mind was the darkness. Hungry..that was the second thing. Hungry. God, it felt like he hadnt eaten in a whole week. The third thing was that he was cold. He was lying on some sort of concrete floor. Probably that if a basement. The fourth thing that he noticed was himself. He couldnt remember a single trace of who he was or how hed gotten there. The cold, hard floor chilled his spine, making him fearful and alone. He sat up. He ran his gloved hand across the cold, smooth surface. It was definitely concrete. A dim candle was lit on a table nearby. Instinctively, he went toward it. On the table was some sort of board game. It had the alphabet, 1-10 numbers, and a YES and NO imprinted in the smoothed wood. Near the board was a triangular-shaped object. Oh god...the hunger. It was much more prominent now. He crumpled over in pain, groaning at the burning feeling eating away at his own stomach. But he stood back up, forcing down the pain, and grabbed the candle. He was going to investigate this. He walked around until he found a set of stairs. Definitely a basement. He carefully walked up the stairs, shivering at the unnatural coldness. It seemed to tear at his flesh, stinging it. His breath should have been puffing up in smoke in the candlelight, but he couldnt see it. Guided by the candle, he wandered outside, setting the candle down near the house, as the streets were lit by streetlamps. He seemed to be in some quaint little subdivision, as the streets were lined with medium-sized, similar-looking houses. He saw a man walking down the street. He decided to ask where he was. But, to his confusion, the man simply yelled a few foul words at him, wide-eyed, and ran off. What was his problem...? he pondered aloud. But his voice didnt sound familiar. It sounded hoarse and raspy, as if multiple voices spoke in unison. He coughed, his raspy voice hurting his throat. The hunger came back again, trying to eat away at him, but he wanted answers first. He decided to go back into the house with the candle. He started exploring the house, nothing out of the ordinary. He went back down to the basement, finding the lightswitch. He wished he hadnt done that. Strewn across the floor were the bodies of 2 people, about his age, with giant gashes in them. Entrails spread across the room, blood splattered on the walls. Intestines stretched across the floor, lungs torn out, chest cavities ripped open, hearts exposed and slashed through... Oh god, he was going to be sick. He gagged at the sight before him, and he was sure he would have vomited had there been anything in his stomach. He felt sorry for these two, whoever they were. He was sure that no one deserved a death this gruesome. He glanced at the misshapen figures on the floor. One was a young woman, with dirty blond hair, and glasses. And the other was around the same age, with curly brown hair and a small mustache. He felt a few tears roll down his cheeks. He felt like he knew these people, but he couldnt remember. Even still, such a horrible way to go... He wouldnt wish this on his worst enemy. He started wondering around. It was plain enough. Just a washing machine, a dryer, and a basket of clothes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, besides the obvious thing of the poor souls laying in the floor. The board game was still there. A cell phone sat next to it. He picked it up, hoping he could find some answers. The most recent text was from a contact named Alina. It seemed to be the same girl that was on the floor, as the picture near her texts looked the same as the poor victim nearby. The owners texts had an icon that had some slim 19, 20 year old guy with messy brown hair in a black hoodie. 4:57, Alina: Hey 5:05, Alina: Jack 5:07, Owner: Yeah 5:08, Alina: Wutcha doin 5:09, Owner: Watching netfilx, whats up 5:09, Alina: Wanna come over to Tonys house with me? He said he wanted to try something. hasnt said what it was yet 5:11, Owner: Yeah sure 5:11, Owner: Let me get a shower and ill come over 5:12, Alina: He want to mess around with this ouija board he got at a pawn shop 5:13, Owner: Ouija board? 5:14, Alina: U srsly dont know what a ouija board is? 5:14, Alina: Its supposed to summon ghosts and demons and shit 5:15, Owner: I guess we can try it 5:15, Owner: I dont even believe in that paranormal bs anyway 5:15, Owner: Imma take a shower now 5:16, Alina: K He put it down. He assumed this Jack person was the owner of the phone. Did these bodies have something to do with this ouija board? Oh god, the hunger! He let out a groan in pain, feeling as if he were digesting himself. He stumbled up the stairs and to the kitchen. He grabbed the first thing he saw: an apple. He took a few chunks out of it and devoured it. Oooohh the pain... This did the opposite of help. The apple felt like he had just swallowed sulfuric acid. His stomach lurched and wretched, rejecting the sweet fruit, causing him to toss the contents of his stomach into the kitchen sink, along with a few traces of blood. Oh, god, food. Food. Food. He started stuffing more food items into his mouth. A banana, potato chips, anything. But they all had the same fate. His stomach rejected them into the sink. More and more blood began to surface. He collapsed onto the floor, groaning and howling in agony, in his raspy, monstrous voice. Oh god, why...food...I need food... He muttered. He crawled down the stairs, into the basement of gore. Food...food... He groaned over and over, as if to make it come to his mouth. His instinct was in control. All he wanted was food. He grabbed a nearby piece of the gore, and began chewing and gnawing on it. To his surprise, it didnt burn his stomach like the horribly toxic food upstairs. He ate more of it, gnawing and gnashing with an animalistic manner. He ate for a very long time. At last he was full. Food.. He licked the blood off of his gloved fingers as if it were barbacue sauce. He was finally satisfied. He looked at a half-chewed piece of flesh. For some reason, his saliva seemed to be black, as it was covering the bite marks left behind. He started to come to his senses. He relived what he had just done. Though, this time, it was not because he was relishing the moment of satisfaction in food, but for his guilt. He felt horrible. He had just ate part of another human being, another human being with a life and family and friends.. He began to cry. He sobbed loudly, proudly, openly. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. He felt so horrible. So inhuman. Like a monster. A monster. He looked to the floor. More of the black stuff. It was dripping onto the floor from his chin. He reached up and touched his cheek, then looked at his hand. The substance was black and gooey like ink. It was shiny, too. Then he realized... This stuff was coming from his eyes. He went upstairs and to the bathroom. Walking up to the mirror, he turned of the light. He let out a hoarse shriek. His skin was a pale gray-blue color. Messy brown hair peeked from under the black hoodie he wore. His teeth werent normal, they were sharp and shark-like. Dripping from his eyes was some strange, black substance. While his eyes themselves were just empty, black sockets. He ran back down the steps, wanting to piece together what had happened. He looked exactly like the boy in the photo on the phone...except demonic. He remembered the ouija board. Supposed to summon ghosts and demons... He repeated the phrase over and over in his head, absentmindedly. A click went off in his mind. He was a demon...a monster. He examined the blood-splattered walls, looking for any sign of the killers markings, when he found a handprint. He put his hand up to it, the size of the print matching his own gloved hand. A million voices screamed out the realization in his mind. You. You killed them. Youre a monster. Killed them. Theyre DEAD. He backed himself into the corner and began sobbing again. The black, inky tears slipped down his cold cheeks and onto the concrete like paint. He didnt stop. He put the pieces together and replayed an image of it over and over in his head. His name is Jack. Normal food is toxic to him. He is about 19 or 20. He came to his friends house to play with a ouija board. He was some sort of undead, demonic being now. He just slaughtered and ate two of his friends. Choked sobs sounded from his form. He started to search around the house, for something to cover his demonic new face. He ventured up to the room of his deceased friend, hoping to find something. A scarf, sunglasses, anything. Digging around in the closet, a blue mask was buried under Halloween costumes. This would do. He picked it up and stared at it. It was like him. It was navy blue, with just two empty black sockets on its face... He donned the mask and gave a few final sniffles. A drop or two of his black tears dripped down the cheeks of the mask. A raspy sigh escaped him, before going back down to the basement. He grabbed the cell phone and went back up the stairs. He dialed 911, calling the authorities, hoping that at the very least his friends could be given a proper burial. His friends didnt deserve this.. A few days had passed. Jack wandered through the darkness of the night. He had retreated into the woods nearby. He tried to watch the scene after the police arrived, but when they edged towards the woods he made a break for it. That crippling hunger was starting to eat away at him yet again. Try as he may, he tried to suppress it to no avail. The disturbing realization came over him: He would have to kill again. For some reason, he didnt feel as disturbed by this thought as before. The thought of that alone was sickening. Why did he not feel remorse for what he would have to do? He found that he couldnt see as well as he could a few days prior. He did find that he could smell things from a bit of a distance, however. As if another sense of his was heightening to compensate. He also discovered that his nails were now sharp like claws. He discovered this after taking off one of his gloves. He decided he would use these to commit his deeds for the time being. His blurry vision targeted a small house with the downstairs window open. How convenient. The poor fool. Jack climbed through the window, making sure to be as silent as possible. He saw a numerous amount of medical degrees on display, indicating that whoever lived there mustve been a doctor of some sort. A faint memory clicked in his brain. His name was Jack McBride. He was studying in college to get his qualifications to become a surgeon.. He snapped out of his reverie and slowly, gradually crept into the bedroom of the houses owner. He pulled the blanket down and pulled the mans shirt up. He was about to slice into him when...he stopped. Jack took note of where he was, and decided to search for the mans medical license, finding it rather easily. He pocketed it so he could find the hospital later. He sliced through the mans side with his claw, holding his hand over the mouth of the disturbed man, who had begun to scream. Jack reached in and sliced out his kidney with his claws, before bolting out the window, vanishing into the night. Jack ran into the woods. He had stolen countless medical supplies. A numerous amount of syringes, and anesthetics filled the pocket of his hoodie. Added onto this was a scalpel, a spool of thread, and a needle. Jack smiled to himself. So far there were 3 casualties, but at last Jack had the tools to cause as little deaths as possible, while still making sure he himself wouldnt go hungry. He was still hungry, as the one kidney from his previous victim wasnt enough to satisfy the gnawing hunger. He targeted a house nearby, climbing up a nearby tree and opening the window quietly. He made a blunder, however. He landed on the floor, his hiking boots colliding on the ground with a muffled thump. He quickly hid his slim form underneath the bed, hearing the man in it jolt up and look around. It seemed like decades before Jack could hear snoring. Finally, hes asleep. He thought in his head. He slinked to his feet, hovering over the bed. He gently pulled down the blanket covering the man, who was only sleeping in pajama pants. Jack stood for the longest time looking down at the mans abdomen, imagining and planning his actions. Carefully, he pushed a syringe into the mans neck and injected a small amount of anesthesia. He made an incision in the mans side with the scalpel, finally able to see his meal within. He used the scalpel to cut out the mans kidney, stuffing it in his hoodie pocket, before stitching up the wound with the needle and thread. When his fingers fumbled, he accidentally dropped the scalpel, watching it plunge to the ground. Thankfully, the carpeted floor muffled the sound to near-silence. However, in the process he had sliced the mans cheek a bit. Jack mouthed a few curse words, picking up his scalpel and leaving out to the other room. He immediately started gnawing on the fresh kidney, relieved at the sensation of food. It was then that he heard a second resident of the house get up to use the restroom, to which Jack immediately fled, dropping his half-eaten dinner in the process. The next night, Jack came back to the house. He looked down at the man he had stolen the kidney from. He simply stared, debating on taking another organ, possibly his appendix if he still had it. That was when he saw the man open his eyes. The man grabbed a camera off the mantle and snapped a picture of Jack hovering above him. Jack lost it. Jack lunged at the man, clawing at his chest, scratching for his lungs. He let out a sharp hiss of pain when the mans foot collided with the side of his face. Jack muttered multiple curses under his raspy breath as he saw the man bolt out of the room. Jack wouldnt go hungry tonight. He remembered the other person in the house, and slowly crept to the other bedroom. He tiptoed up to the man, imagining his actions. The man began to wake, to which Jack simply stood in place, frozen. The man screamed and grabbed a baseball bat sitting in the corner of the room, swinging it at him. Jack dodged it, not wanting to cause a death. Then he got hit in the shoulder. He snapped again. Jack lunged at the second man, twisting his arms behing his back and ripping his chest open with his claws. Jack couldnt stop. He kept slashing and clawing at the man, far beyond the mans heart ceasing to pulse. Jack finally stopped. He began to chew and gnaw on the strewn organs ravenously. He ate as quickly as he could, then fled. It, it wasnt his fault. The man was going to kil him! He...he had to die..he had to die! There was..no other way. Jack started laughing. He threw his head back and his wild, distorted cackling resounded through the woods. He had hit the breaking point. He realized what his life amounted to. He was a demonic, homeless college student that had to hunt for organs to survive. He had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. A sort of rogue beast that belonged nowhere. This is what he was now. This is what he was for the rest of his life. A hunter. A cannibal. A demon. A monster. Not human.
Posted on: Sat, 22 Nov 2014 00:49:00 +0000
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