Brothers (partial necro story in draft)

“Hey Eric, what are you going to do today?” his brother Johnny asked him optimistically when Eric finally emerged from his room for the day.

“I’m going to head on out to the cemetery for a while.  After that the day’s a mystery.” A strange smile crossed Eric’s face as he said the word ‘cemetery’.  Johnny didn’t think much of the odd grin.  Eric had always been a bit off.  He’d been through a lot over the years so Johnny never questioned his bizarre mannerisms.  It was best just to let Eric be Eric.

The two brothers shared a house and both had full time jobs.  Johnny worked for the parks department and Eric worked in the only local funeral home’s office.  Friday’s were Eric’s days off and he always slept late on those days, usually getting up around noon when his brother would come home for lunch. After the death of their mother the two became closer and had decided that they could easily rent a whole house if they became housemates.

Johnny had run away from home when he was sixteen years old, leaving Eric, then ten years old, to deal with their verbally abusive, overly religious mother.  After her death a year ago, Johnny came back to Concord, Michigan to do right by his brother.  He’d felt guilty about leaving him to live with that woman alone for nine years.  Now he was glad to be home and, for the most part, felt that he and his brother were healing and finally forgetting the past.

“So little bro, what do you have to do at the cemetery?”

“Just set some flowers around for a funeral tomorrow.  It should be easy work.”  There was that smile again, shining through as he said ‘easy work’.

“Don’t you have a florist that does that shit?” Johnny asked inquisitively, wondering why his brother, though a mere office peon, would have to do floral arranging.

“Deck’s Flowers closed down last week so we had to import the flowers from a place in Jackson.  They sent them by mail and since I’m the only one with time off on Friday they asked if I could arrange them at the plot.”  A tiny hint of untruthfulness could be heard in his words.  Eric couldn’t lie well but Johnny wondered what there was to lie about in the first place.

After considering the fact that his brother was a loner, had no friends, and didn’t appear to be doing drugs he let the matter be.  It was odd to lie about floral arrangements but Johnny thought that maybe, just maybe, his brother was lying to hide the fact he was going to see a girl or, though he didn’t care much for the idea, a guy. 

Well, him being gay would explain a few things I suppose but hopefully he’s found a nice woman to hang around.  Of course, if he had, why would he lie about it or cover it up?  Damn, maybe he is gay…oh well; whatever raises your dick I guess.

A few moments of silence passed while Johnny considered his brother’s motives then he decided he would get his brother to go out to dinner with him that night so they could discuss this “floral arrangement” lie.

“My boss said that if I had time before the end of shift that the cemetery could use a good mowing.  I might see you there.”

“I doubt it Johnny.  Flower arranging is pretty quick work from what I’ve seen.”  No smile, no lie, but a quiet fear had crept into Eric’s voice.  Eric wondered if his brother had caught on to something he had said.  Did his brother discover the lie?  He didn’t know, nor did he really want to.

“Well, maybe we could meet somewhere for dinner, my treat.  How about Macky’s?”

“Sure, what time?”

“How does five sound?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”  Eric felt relieved that his brother appeared satisfied with that answer.

Johnny gathered up some cheese and crackers for a work time snack then headed out to the car after cheerfully saying “goodbye”.

Eric watched him get in the car and then drive away down the street.  He was glad to be alone again.  He hated telling his brother lies but couldn’t avoid it.  After eating some Poptarts he headed up the stairs back into his room.  For a moment he stared at the blankness of the walls considering how his life had come to be so lonely and so strange.  His room was white walled without posters, decorations or adornments.  In the middle sat a cold looking white sheeted bed with black blankets.  The only window on the far right wall showed a dead tree from the yard.  There were no curtains.  The cold asylum feel of the room could always somehow calm his nerves but at the same time make him feel incredibly alone.  He proceeded into the white bar-less prison over to his clothes pile in the far left corner at the back of the room.  From the pile he gathered a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, giving each garment a good sniff before putting them on.  On the door was a body length mirror from which he got a glimpse of himself.  Thin, young, long sandy brown hair, blue eyes, everything a girl likes in a man.  That isn’t what he really saw though.  In his eyes all he ever sees in the mirror is a demon, deformed, vile, cursed, and above all, male.  From the time he was a toddler his mother screamed it into his head that men were evil, sinning creatures, their sex their damnation.  Every word of her hateful spews he believed was true simply because it was all he had ever heard.  Due to these abusive childhood teachings he came to fear women and also came to fear himself.  For these reasons he avoided women despite always having the natural urge to be with them intimately.  He finished zipping his pants and walked away from the mirror and out of his room.

Eric was no fool, he knew he was different and knew his thoughts weren’t going to be accepted as sane from any supposedly sane individual.  He had figured a way around the dilemma of sexual repression and knew that his solution was both taboo and sick but he just couldn’t keep himself from wanting someone to fuck.  Somewhere, somehow, he was going to get what he wanted and he knew now exactly where and how to take it.

Down the stairs he rushed and out the back door he went.  He got in his car and drove out to the cemetery.  It was a pretty drive, the pine trees and deciduous maples and elms a colorful sight to see.  Autumn was a lovely time, brisk but beautiful.  Eric enjoyed the dying season’s idea of decay.  The plants went out with such perfection.  He wished that humans could leave in such a nice way as well.  It’s a pity we can’t all look good and smell great on the way out.  Oh well, what can we do about it?  Nothing I suppose.

As he drove he thought about all the processes involved in life and death, how silly the traditions over the years had become and how much it all didn’t matter in the end.  His thoughts also went to the plan ahead and the tools in the trunk of the black Buick he was driving.  A few days before he had thrown a shovel, a pick-ax, and a crowbar in the back of the vehicle for the upcoming “flower arranging”.   Will this go well?  Will I need something more or will these things be enough?  He had never done it before and wasn’t sure if he could it well with what he had.

He entered the cemetery gates and sought a place to park along one of the many intertwining labyrinthine lanes.  It didn’t take too long to find a secluded area for his car not too far from the grave he was going to visit.  Eric parked the car and asked himself just what it was he had gotten himself into.  What if I’m found out?  There’s no going back now, I’ve made up my mind, but still…

His mind made up, he got out of the car and retrieved the tools from the back of the Buick.  With the spade shovel in his right hand and the pick-ax and crowbar in his left, he walked briskly to a grave close to the woods at the back of the graveyard.  There was a mound of dirt piled behind the stone marker he had walked to.

“Well, this is it.” Eric whispered to himself.  He was sweating from nervousness and the fear of being seen.  Nobody ever entered the cemetery on Friday’s because they were considered grounds maintenance days.  There was always room for error though and Eric knew this quite well.

After a few deep breaths he regained his confidence a little and started digging.  He remembered setting up the funeral and burial arrangements for the girl he was digging up.  She’d only been 18 at the time of her death.  She had overdosed on her first injection of heroin.  Eric remembered the picture he’d seen of her in the funeral home records.  The photo showed her to be pretty, not beautiful, but definitely far from ugly.  He didn’t think much about her death or her picture until the week before this venture.  He concocted a somewhat speedy plan to dig her up, do what he could, rebury her and leave.

He started digging.  After getting halfway down closer to the casket he realized the previous week’s plan was rather foolish and far too hasty.  Everything was going to take much longer than he had anticipated.  But there’s no going back now; not when I’ve come this far.

The digging took almost two hours and Eric knew time was growing very short.  Sweat was dripping from his face and his clothes were sticking to his skin from the dampness he was producing.  It was about 60 degrees but it felt a lot hotter to him.  He removed his black shirt.  His thin, somewhat muscled frame was a sight that any woman would have loved to see.  His jeans hung from his ass enticingly revealing the top of his butt crack just a little.  Beads of sweat rolled down his back into his pants.  If only he’d known his intense degree of masculine beauty perhaps he would not have to be at the cemetery on a Friday afternoon.   Firmly grasping the crowbar he’d brought with him he pried open the mahogany casket all his digging had revealed.  Before him, in a burst of stench as the casket creaked open, was a woman’s body.  Her mouth showed signs of brown decay, her skin glowed a sickly white and light blue.  There was no glory in what he was about to do but there was a hint of control and a sad version of sexual desire.  The thought of the sex alone was enough to harden him.  He hoped it would be enough to finish the act quickly, he didn’t think he could stand the smell for very long without puking.  Her death was not beautiful to him.  What he did find attractive was the fact that the body was female and was readily available without a voice, judgments, or a commitment.  These facts aroused him, turned him on and kept him hard.  He unzipped his jeans to show his bare, fully erect cock.  Time was slowing down for him now, he could feel it.

Eric pushed the dead girl’s funeral dress up around her waist.  She was as naked down there as he was; no underwear and, oddly enough, no bush.  There were more hints of brown decay around her twat and a newer, damper smell of death and rotting fish.  He resisted the urge to vomit and decided to put his cock in her mouth first.  His prior knowledge of the embalming procedures reminded him that her mouth was stitched shut.  In his left pocket he had a switch blade.  He flicked it up and carefully slid the blade between the corpse’s lips.  They opened easily and her jaw went slack.  

AUTHOR'S NOTE:::  This is draft 2 of this story and it is an incomplete draft.  Seems i get to writing and find things i can add to make it more descriptive, so it may be a little while before i finish it.  There's a good 7 pages of it written in a notebook, so i figure it's going to be a little longer than 5 when all typed out.  Stick around though, his story is a different one.  He and his brother may even encounter more than one dead body, who knows.  Extra Note:: Italicized words indicate a character's thoughts.

Dead Girls Don't Say "No"

"Oh baby I'm cumming!" his orgasmic cries filled the shrill night air. He couldn't believe he was finally having sex with the girl he had craved for years. He was 19 and she had just turned 18 two weeks before this night. Youth in love; Such a beautiful night to lose one's virginity. The crescent moon was high, the air chilled slightly, Halloween not too far off.

She was a pretty girl with skin of white lace and eyes of a deathly grey blue. Her cheek bones were accented by tinges of light blue, her lips a faded shade of purple. Crow black hair adorned her face making her complexion stand out in the dark. He loved her greatly and wished he could have had her in the past.

His long hair had smothered her face as he gently found his way into her. Her pussy was tight but he had no trouble inserting his rock hard cock. She was cold inside but that didn't bother him. He rammed her hard and brutal fast. He put her arms around him as he got his orgasm. When he came her pussy became warm and gooey. He pulled his dick out and sat beside her for a moment. He wished he could take her home with him but that didn't seem logical.

He had known the girl in high school and craved her ever since. Often times he would ask her out but she had always refused. He thought they were the same in many ways. She liked the dark, he liked the dark and she was into tattoos and piercings and dark clothing just like he was, but she didn't want him then.

It's not like he was ugly or anything. He had long dark brown hair, deep green eyes and a great body structure. He stood at 6'1 and, in a way, resembled a mortal vampire. Despite his striking looks she had always thought him to be too weird for her tastes. Years passed though and now he was with her.

He had seen her picture in the paper 3 days before and had planned on meeting her. The paper said she'd be at Hillcrest on Saturday. He went late Saturday evening and before he dug in he said to her tombstone "Dead girls don't say no".


Author's Note: This story is going on 10 years old soon. It's not what i'd call "quality", but it started the list of necrophilic writings i've produced over the years. Seeing as how my story "Necro Erotica" seems to be getting lots of attention from various European readers (at least according to the statistics page), i decided to add this old one to the blog. It's not well written nor is it an epic adventure into the mindset of a little understood perversion, but it does get the point across i suppose.

Working on the Lowman's Second Story

The Lowman is a good friend to this writer and he will be in a few more stories. I reckon two or three more should do it. In this next one he finds a friend in a young woman, he doesn't yet know that she's his friend though. I'm still at the beginning of it but i do know how i want the rest of the story to go. Maybe my brain will be rid of its current hindrance (these damn pills for panic/anxiety attacks) sometime here in the next few weeks. Pills=creative block.

The Lowman's Watching (horror/fantasy)

A lowman stands in the shadows atop what used to be an apartment building. He takes the crisp half burnt air of autumn into his lungs. The world is still and time seems to be a cruel illusion.

A dark and foreboding figure, he holds the secrets of existence and death within his mind. Far does he see and far has he been; once he was called a mystic, now he holds another title, one far more sinister and deadly. His world is coloured with the horrors of witnessing and committing. But now his attention is focused on a window across the street. Behind it he sees beauty, sanity; he sees the rarity of true love. A sad crying of envy floats into his mind but he cannot hate them for their love.

Inside the ugly and nearly abandoned apartment house two young lovers are unboxing the contents of their lives. Amidst conversations of future plans, the young man and woman arrange framed pictures into a bookcase. Every now and then they exchange a kiss or a groping. Ever oblivious in their thinking, in their love, they never take notice of the lowman's watching. Perhaps for a brief second they thought they sensed his eyes but waved away the intuition.

A crow perches itself outside the lovers' window. For a moment it stares off into the dimly lit room. Its thoughts are hidden to all. Seemingly bored with staring, it makes a quick tap on the glass with its ebony beak. Such a startling surprise, the woman makes a tiny shriek while the man turns his head abruptly toward the noise. After realization sets in they look at eachother and smile. The tasks and talking resume.

The lowman takes this scene in and contemplates its meaning. Always a crow that comes knocking is to be taken as an omen of ill-will. He knows that neither the man nor the woman have this knowledge. He persists with his watching to see what may come.

As he waits for the omen to prove itself real, he reminisces about a time when he wasn't much different from the young man he's currently watching.

----------

He had been in love, yes, so very very in love. She had been his godess and he worshipped her faithfully. They were so happy, so dynamic together, so very perfect. They had just become engaged when tragedy came visiting. Fate always enjoyed ripping lovers apart; Death for her but there would never be death for him.

-----------

That was eons ago, his focus is needed on the present. He's been drawn to these two but he does not yet know exactly why.

His attention is brought back from the land of souring memories by a faint and distant sound. A knocking at a door inside a building across the road. The door belongs to the apartment he's been observing. Perhaps now he will find out the ill that is to befall the lovers.

The woman attempts to get up to open the door but the man speaks and she sits back down. He, instead, goes to the door. A question is asked to whoever is behind it. There must have been a friendly answer to the question, there's a smile on the face of the young man, who, with no further hesitation, opens the door.

The lowman is the first to notice the gun. He carefully examines the expression on the face of the stranger holding it. Too many times has he seen that look and always wishes to never see it again. He contemplates what his action should be: Stay and watch like he's done so often before? Or try to change the upcoming events (something he's never done before)?

As the lowman debates his actions, the young man is trying to talk sense to the gunman, who at one point, must have seemed a friend. Sense is lost to the holder of the gun. He's an angry defeated man, tainted somehow as well, perhaps by drugs. The lowman can see his thoughts clearly. Death was at the lovers' door and they hadn't known it.

A sad horror unfolds before the lowman's eyes. The gunman yells, the youngman is pleading, both vocally and mentally. Begging is always a mistake. In an instant, chaos reigns. The young man receives a bullet. The woman screams, charges the gunman, he pushes her down.

He's seen enough, too much. The lowman leaps from the building to the ground below, landing perfectly on his feet. Off into the other building he goes, flying through it, up staircases until he reaches the woman's floor. He bolts in through the still open door. A horrible sight pierces his eyes. She's been shot.

He hurries to her. Her pretty green aura fading quickly, but he can still see it, that's something. A quick glance over at her lover tells the lowman that death has won the battle against the youngman. His aura is completely extinguished.

The gunman is in a different room and has yet to learn of the lowman's presense. He will learn of it though, that's a sure thing. The woman whispers to the lowman a name: "Eddie". He can see her thoughts, it's the name of her deceased lover. In a whisper he gives her the truth, there's not a point in lieing now. "He's gone dear, I'm sorry." And in one sense he is sorry but in another, more selfish sense, he sees an opportunity.

Tears stream from her eyes. She's fading even faster now. The lowman whispers to her again, "I can save you my dear. We can go on together until the world is destroyed. You will be immortal. Will you say yes to me?".

Her first reply is a questioning thought that barely makes it past her lips, "Eddie?". Once again he sees her thoughts and again has to disappoint her. "He cannot be saved, he's too far gone." A fresh river of tears runs down her face. "No" is her last word and the lowman watches her aura bip out of existence.

He rises from the body. He hates himself, he hates the world, and most of all, right now, he hates the gunman. Perparing for a killing, he darkles himself. Barely there in body, he isn't noticed until his bite is felt in the neck of the gunman. As he drinks away the ugly existence of the gunman, he slowly gains back his solid state. The last thing the gunman sees is a man walking away and the jewelry he was attempting to steal all over the floor.

Wanting the young lovers (at least the young woman) to have a decent burial, he phones the police from a payphone a few blocks away. He walks brisky from the phone-booth into the night air. He hates himself, he hates the world. Overhead a crow screams into the dark. "Death for all" it yells mockingly "but not ever for you.".


-----Epilogue-----

The police arrive at the home of Edward Anderson and Elise Potter around 3 AM. When they enter the apartment they see two young people shot to death on the floor. One officer ventures into the main (and only) bedroom. There he finds on the floor strewn jewelry pieces and a human shaped pile of dust. Baffled, the officer calls in the lead detective. The lead detective is not surprised by the find but is a bit skeptical about what it may be. He instructs the other officers to bag some of the dust as evidence.

A few weeks later the lead detective receives the results of all the tests done on the dust from the apartment. Some of the results state that it could be human but the DNA was so deconstructed that it was impossible to tell for sure. All the results list "Inconclusive" for the finished product. Clearly surprised, the dective calls for further investigation of the murders. His goal now is to find the anonymous caller who tipped them off.



--------author's note---------
this would be the second draft of this story. i'm pleased with it right now. i believe that we will see more of the Lowman. his wanderings may make for some interesting short stories. this was a turning point for this character. prior to the incident in this story, he had witnessed many a murder and even committed a few himself. he had never wanted to intervene. here we see that he feels bad about what he's done and that in some ways, he wishes for a partner, one that reminds him of his one true love. will he find that partner? who knows. perhaps another story will tell. in this story, there are some references to a few movies or books i'm fond of. the last names of the two young lovers: anderson refers to The Matrix's Neo (aka Mr. Anderson) and Potter, refers to Harry Potter's Lily Potter. The word lowman was a word if first read in Stephen King's Dark Tower series. My lowman is quite a bit different from his. King's Lowmen were animal/human hybrids that were mostly assholes. My lowman is a vampire, who has a conscience and is capable of love. And the crow, while a minor player, is a bit taken from The Crow series.

Untitled (thriller)

In the Metro park a young man with a dismal appearance gazes into the sky as he moves himself gently backward and forward on an old rusty swing. Closer inspection of his looks tells the world he's older than he seems. His eyes are hard and fierce with a blue bombardier stare. A handsome face forever scarred here and there by who knows what. One lone black teardrop drips from his left eye as a permanent reminder of what he's done. Thin dark wisps of facial hair line his pronounced chin and jaw. Long, somewhat greasy black hair is pushed behind his ears, showing all these telling features. He pretends to be ignorant of the uneasy glances people give him as they walk past. If only they knew what he really was, could really do.

Today is a day like any other. He knows where he's going and what he's going to do. Rising from the swing he decides to set out for a different, more secluded location. Every intention in his mind is far from what it should be. Plotting slowly and pragmatically he wanders onward down a long street with a dead end. Each building he passes is unoccupied and most are all together abandoned. A broken chain link fence attempts to keep people out of the wooded lot at the very end of the road. Today, the fence's attempts will fail as they have so many times before.

He pushes down a section of the fence and then walks into the enormous lot, moving past a large amount of beer bottles and papers to a small clearing at the center of four towering trees. From the clearing he can see in the distance a railroad track that's been unused for a good three years and even farther on, a highway. No one can see him in his hidden area and he is tremendously satisfied with that fact.

The clearing has always been his favourite place and often times he finds himself returning to it for a little piece of mind. He sits down in the middle of his special place, being careful not to end up in any mud. As the wind blows through his hair, many ideas occur to him seemingly at once. There had been the possibility of using this area for many many things and now he knows what thing it will be best suited for. Spending only a little longer to contemplate the beauty of his thoughts, he then gets up to leave.

After a long time of walking, he returns to the inner city Metro park. Night is falling and he understands that darkness will be his friend. He wishes not to linger in the park, it's too occupied. On he walks to a large parking lot outside a shopping mall. Here he waits as he watches people come and go. Finally, he happens upon someone who he would like to be acquainted with.

A young woman, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, is walking into the mall with a couple of friends. She's reasonably attractive with long dark brown hair, dark green eyes, and nearly tan, flawless skin. She's dressed in alright clothing, not exactly skanky but very far from prudish.

Not wanting to waste time, the young man follows her into the building. His goal is simple and straightforward. His plan, however, is not as perfect as he'd like it to be.

To gain the young lady's attention he sneaks up behind her and her friends and out of the blue asks if he knows her. Clearly startled, she turns around and sees what asked the question. Shyness creeps up into her and she politely tells him she doesn't have any idea who he is. Charmingly, he apologizes for having bothered her but continues to attempt some form of conversation. He goes on with a few random questions. Her friends were smiling as she tried to answer in as few words as possible. This would not do. He figures he must introduce himself and does so with a fake name. She responds with her real name and seems to be getting slightly annoyed. To keep her attention he asks if perhaps he could have a moment alone with her. Creeped out but not wanting to be rude, she agrees and walks with him outside.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" he asks very confidently.
Thinking that if the weirdo did anything she could fight him off, she says ok.
"Do you mind if it's a long walk? I've got something to show you."
"No, I don't mind, but if you turn out to be a serial killer my friends know I'm with you and know your name."
He admires her thinking but finds it tremendously foolish; As if puting the words "serial killer" in her sentence would automatically save her.
"I'm not a serial killer, not yet anyway" he laughs sarcastically and looks at her, she wasn't laughing but didn't seem too uncomfortable with his humour.
For a while they walk in silence and then she tells him something he hadn't heard in a while.
"You're kind of cute. You might be even better looking if you didn't have that tattoo under your eye and cut your hair."
"Thanks...I think."
He was starting to like this woman but didn't want to. It had been eons since someone called him attractive though.
"Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
"I think this was a bad idea, can we go back?"
The fear in her voice was echoing in his mind, he was smiling at the thoughts it was bringing him. Noticing his grin she stops walking and turns around. Before she can get very far he grabs her arm and pulls her to him. Not even thinking about what he was doing, he pulls out his pocket knife and holds it to her throat. She lets out a small squeak.
"Walk!"
He pushes her away from him and follows close behind with the knife to her back. The lot with the clearing is close. They only need to walk a few more blocks before he can accomplish his goal for the evening.
"You're going to kill me aren't you?"
"Maybe, maybe not, it's up to you." he states coldly.
"You can't, they know who you are!" she yells.
"If you keep shouting like that, I'll kill you now."
"You can't."
"Oh yes, I can, do you think I'd give my real name? I planned this whole damn thing out this afternoon." his anger at her stupidity is showing vividly.
"To think I trusted you just because you looked alright. I feel stupid."
"Who cares? Shut up already." despite his harsh tone, he again can't help feeling a little bit of liking for her, simply because she called him cute.
Approaching the final block he decides to pick on his new little "friend".
"There's a clearing in that lot at the end of the street. No one can see in it but I can see out. I wonder what games we should play back there? Any suggestions?" he laughs at her as she tries to hold back crying.
Further they walk until they reach the chain link fence. He puts his knife in his left hand and grabs the woman with his right. He leads her past the beer bottles and all the way to the clearing. She stands in the middle of it, staring out at the old railroad and the highway, thinking all hope is lost. He smiles with a sinister grin wondering if perhaps he should continue or if he's scared her enough.


-----author's note------
in some ways i liked this story, but in others i did not. if anyone has any ideas on how to improve it, feel free to share. there was a time i had planned on extending it, but i do believe the ending leaves one wondering if perhaps there could be a turn around in the circumstances. To those who have read it...what do you think; should she be assaulted, killed, fight and get away, be rescued, talk herself out of the situation or should our main character let her go of his own free will?

Walking Death (School Shooting)

It's 3am. A Monday. Two young men are planning their rise to greatness. Delusions of grandeur. They're sitting in a darkly lit room. Candles on the desks. A lamp on the wall. Commando green chairs beneath their asses. The world waits for them. Today they will own their fate. Today they will be fate. Crude maps plastered to the wall. Something the shape of a building. A camcorder records their legacy. The one called Eric points to the map. The other named Corey nods his head. Conversation passes between the two. There's laughing. Small fragments of happiness. Corey asks a question. Eric motions for a gun. Illegal make on the desk. Corey sarcasticly applauds. Ideas are running. There's a mission. At least that's something. A plan filled with holes. That's something else.

It's 4am. Still Monday. Forever Monday. Guns adorn the walls. Both boys have been asleep. A half hour has passed. Dreams race in their heads. Coloured red for Corey. Just black and white for Eric. Violence and doom for each. A jolt here. A stir there. Nothing yet wakes them.

7am. They awake. One goes to the bathroom. The other waits his turn. Two trench coats are hung up. Black shadows waiting. Eric emerges. Corey goes in. Eric takes a coat. It's heavy. Weighed by two .45s. He puts in on. A map is ripped from the wall. He tucks it into his coat. Corey opens the bathroom door. Conversation begins. Maniacal laughing occurs. Insanity's closest acquaintance. Corey throws on the remaining coat. It's lighter. That will change. Momentarily. He grabs a knife. Puts it in a pocket. He grabs a hand gun. It's shoved into a holster. The coat has 3. Only one is needed. The gun on the desk. Favourite of both. Eric takes it. It's tossed to Corey. Smiles pass between them. Diabolical.

7:30am. An old Buick waits. Outside. Inside. The house is quiet. Everyone is gone. With exceptions. Black shadows walk out. Mafia men. Low men. They travel to the car. It resists being taken. It's tried again. It gives in. Eric drives. Corey talks. Driving is short. So far away. Too close.

8am. The perpetual Monday. Delusions are to be reality. Parking is easy. Never easier. Right outside the front door. A building. Tan brick. Double sided doors. Large rectangular windows. Young men and women walk by. Minions of the authority. Corey and Eric exit the car. Odd looks are expressed. Eyes. Too many. Children of disease. Obnoxious names are called. All parties move away. The boys move into the building.

8:15am. Bell rings. Plans are still in place. Minions scatter. Disappear. Two low men wait in the hall. Whispers fly between them. Eric produces the map. Points to 4 squares. Rooms. Corey frowns. A thought. A memory. The favoured gun. Left in the Buick.
"I forgot it."
"Then go fucking get it!"

8:23am. Wings of black. Stretched. Behind the running boy. Eric is impatient. Sets out alone. Nothing is suspected. All is quiet. Both hands are in pockets. A friend for each. Room 114. Outside. A wooden door. Large square window. Fantastic view. Inside. Calmness. Males. Females. Darks. Lights. Fools.

8:25am. Bafflement. Guns pulled out. Ready. A shout. A few screams. No time. Shooting begins. Brains on the wall. Blonde hair. Blood for the floor. One down. A shoulder here. A stomach there. Holes for all. A preacher felled. Minions still falling.

8:26am. Corey returns. Lost. Briefly. Room 114. Screams. Loud noises. He runs. There's chaos. Blood everywhere. Dead girls. Dead boys. Realization sets in. Oh well.
"What the hell Eric!? Why'd you start without me?"
"You took too long.."

8:28am. Teachers are racing. Nothing can be done. Students are under desks. Hiding. Typical. Two young men. Black trench coats. Guns. Walking death. Moving casually. Shooting down the hallway. One target. Two. Three. Many more. So many screams. So much blood.

8:32am. No one's a hero. No saviours. Cowards. All of them. Abandoned the plan. To little ammo. Muderer those you hate. Nothing else. A shot in one room. Two in another.

8:42am. Sirens.
"What do we do now?"
"Go out in a blaze of fucking glory!"
"How Eric? There's no more ammo."
"You'll see."

8:45am. They're walking. Bathrooms are down the hall. The only place. Quiet. Peaceful. They open the door. Sit on the floor. Nothing. No talk. Eric has two bullets. He hands one to Corey. Now he saw. Corey loads it. Gun to temple. Fires. Blood and brains coat Eric. His friend. What's left. A smile appears. Eric loads the bullet. One for himself. Gun under chin. Blood shoots. Death to horror. Death to chaos. Death.

9am. Police storm the school. Students are led out. Bodies are carried. Two boys are found. Skulls obliterated.

3pm. The camcorder is found. Still recording. Accusations start. Assumptions are made. Parents' fault. Goths. Sociopaths. Psychos. Drug addicts. Outcasts. Satanists.

10 years later. The truth is made public. Reality's mudane. Boredom. Depression. Nothing else.

------Author's Note------
this was inspired by the Columbine school shootings. The senselessness of it. It's also inspired by the rumours that spread about the shooters. They were not "goth", they were not Marilyn Manson obsessees, they were not in The Trench Coat Mafia. The entire attack lasted 17 minutes. The media made it last for hours and days, even years. The media also exaggerated the lives of the killers and the situation itself.

The End Has a Start (dream story)

The End Has a Start
Created by: Aquilus Domini © 2008

1

"I think he's waking up."
"Yeah it looks like it."
Two voices came echoing to me from across a strange room. Apparently I had, at some point, fallen asleep and was just then waking up. There was an oddity about this though. No recollection existed in my mind of how I got there or where "there" even was.
"Where am I?" I asked the two shadowed figures in the corner, having no idea who they might possibly be.
"I wish I knew, but neither of us has any idea what the hell this place is. All we do know is that there's some insane fucker living here that likes to torture people and will eventually be the death of all three of us."
The shadow that had spoken came forward and introduced himself as Armand. His hair was long and black and his goatee was black as well. His voice was low and melancholy, which is what I expected due to his appearance. When the other finally came out of the darkness, I could see that he, too, had long black hair. However, he lacked any sort of beard, but instead had a very different distinctive feature; his deep and intimidating blue eyes.
"Yeah, the crazy fuck with a liking for long hair; he's going to kill me first. Hell, he hasn't even gotten to Armand yet. Every damn night I get dragged out of this room and into another, set on a table, tied down, and finally knocked out. When I wake up I'm always back in here with sores and slash marks all over my body. And they get worse every fucking time!"
You could sense fear and anger in his voice, which was far different from Armand's, low, but definitely not depressed.
Not wanting his friend to go on ranting about how shitty their situation was, Armand quickly changed the subject.
"What's your name?"
For a moment I almost forgot what it was, but it came running back in an instant.
"Aquilus Domini."
"Oh come on, that can't be your real name." said the yet unnamed man.
"True, it's not, but it's what I prefer to be called and what all my patrons called me when I sold them my art."
Armand spoke up, seeing that the conversation could quickly turn into an argument.
"Jessie, leave him be. It doesn't matter what his real name is. Nothing about us matters anymore."
"Fine." Jessie muttered out with a sigh.
For what could have been an hour, there was a great deal of awkward silence. I walked around the room, examining every inch of it. The only light came from a huge arched window. Upon looking out it, I saw that it was winter. Snow covered the ground and there was a woods off in the distance. The trees still had brightly coloured autumn leaves, which made the landscape seem confused. We appeared to be three stories up in what must have been a castle. The exterior walls were constructed of huge stones and there were large doors every five yards along the facade. The interior room was long, maybe 50 x 20 feet. A white door with a brass knob was directly across from the window in the center of the room. After thinking it over, I decided to try the door. Suddenly, Jessie spoke up.
"You can try all you want, but no matter what door you go out, you always end up back in one of the same three rooms. Either here, the living room (where the psycho spends most of his time), or in the room with the cadaver table and medical utensils."
"That's not possible." I stated bluntly.
"Maybe not anywhere else, but here it is. I know, I've tried to leave too." Armand informed.
"Alright, I guess I have no choice but to believe you two."
"Hey, Aquilus, you want to see something else that's weird?" Armand pointed to the window. He and I walked over to it.
"You know how there's a bathroom at the other end of the room? And how it's built so it would stick out the side of the building outside?"
"Yeah."
"Well, look out the window and tell me what you see."
"It's just flat. It doesn't seem possible, but the entire wall is flat." I was amazed and baffled at the same time.
"Yeah, it's flat. I'm starting to wonder if this castle is like the famous house that had the doors that went to nowhere and stairs that went up into walls." Intrigued yet somewhat scared, Armand then said what everyone was thinking...
"I don't think this is real."
"It sure as hell feels real!" Jessie added.
"Well, we can't just wait around to find out if it's a damn dream. If Jessie's being tortured at night by some psycho, I don't think we have any time to waste. Maybe we should start figuring out a way to escape." I felt it was possible and I knew deep down that they thought it was too.
A few minutes went by. All three of us were quiet but we all had contemplative looks. Armand was the first to speak up about a plan.
"I'm thinking that we might be able to get out the window. I know it doesn't have a latch to open it with, but maybe we could break it. We could tie the sheets from the beds together to make a rope, climb out the broken window and then we can make a run for the woods... Tomorrow, definitely, we're going to get the hell away from here. Does that sound good to you guys?"
Jessie and I both nodded our heads. None of us knew whether or not it would work, but we did know that we had nothing to lose.




2

For a while there was no conversation. We all had questions, particularly about how we had ended up in such a twisted place. It took a few hours, but finally I broke the silence and asked what I knew we all wondered.
"How did we all get here?"
Jessie and Armand looked at each other and then back at me. They couldn't remember either.
"We don't know." Jessie said.
"I know I've been here longer than Armand. There's no way to tell time, but I'm assuming I was here about 2 months before he showed up. That's when the psycho decided to make his presence known too. So, I've been here for maybe 6 months.
The last thing I remember is being in an alley way and seeing some chick walk by then I ended up here."
Armand sat silent, just staring off.
"Hey, Armand, what do you remember?" I inquired.
He looked at me bleakly and made the decision to speak instead of stay quiet.
"Honestly, I remember driving to kill my girlfriend's parents. We had planned it for weeks." his voice was sad. "I miss her, but to be truthful, I'm glad I never made it there. I really didn't want to do it, but she felt the need to run away and she said that was the only way."
Jessie and I both looked at him with surprise. He didn't seem like the kind of person capable of murder. Armand saw the baffled looks and turned the attention back to me.
"So, Aquilus, inform us as to what happened to you."
Still looking at him with surprise I gathered my thoughts and spoke.
"I had been on top of a building. It seemed pretty high. I think I was supposed to throw someone over the edge. I don't recall getting to do it though."
After hearing about what happened with Armand, Jessie didn't seem shocked to think that I was a murderer.
"It sucks that we can't remember how we got here exactly. And that we can only remember the moments before going blank... Perhaps we're dead." with the harshest of bluntness, Armand gave us the truth we all wished to avoid.
Jessie, in a bit of a denial, asked how we could possibly be dead. He pointed out that we still ate, drank, pissed and shit. We apparently could feel pain as well, which was something he made very clear.
Despite the facts that Jessie stated, Armand and I could definitely tell that we weren't in the real world anymore. Deep down he knew it too.
"If we're fucking dead, how the hell do you two suppose we're going to get anywhere. The outside could just be an illusion and this oddity of a castle could be our hell for the rest of whatever the fuck eternity is!" Jessie was angry, frightened, and above all, he appeared defeated.
"It looks like it's getting late, maybe we should just calm down and go to bed. Leave all these thoughts for tomorrow." Not wanting to hear anymore, Armand went to his bunk and laid back. Jessie just watched him, disappointed at the fact that his only friend for 6 months wasn't going to entertain his fearful questions.
I sat for a while in one of the three chairs that was against the wall. It looked like a sickly green in what light there was in the room. Jessie's chair was some god awful pinkish hue and the one Armand had been in looked a faded blue. It was an odd thought, but I wondered what kind of weirdo picked out the furniture. The bunks were like standard prison beds, two were bunk bed style and the third was a twin. They all had metal frames, painted the same faded blue as the one chair. In front of the little row of chairs was a small low set coffee table. That piece of crap looked like it was something out of a ghetto dump. Made of some weird wood, it had cracks and splinters galore and looked extremely weather worn. It obviously served its purpose though. There were dishes sitting on top of it. I gathered that Jessie and Armand were fed well and wondered if I would be too if we didn't end up leaving.

After Jessie finally went to bed (he took the twin), I climbed up into the bunk above Armand. I laid there in the quiet thinking about our situation when I suddenly heard footsteps from outside the door. They seemed far away at first but became very close. Pulling the covers over my head real quick, I pretended to be asleep. The door slowly creaked open and a bright incandescent light flowed in. I could see through a small opening in the blankets that a man with long black hair had brought something in and set it on the ghetto coffee table. His next move was toward Jessie's bed. The opening didn't allow me to see Jessie get up, but I could hear his and the other man's footsteps. Once again I caught sight of the long haired man, this time, he wasn't alone. Jessie looked back as he walked out the door and the light quickly bipped out when the man closed the door behind them.

"Don't worry..."
I about shit my pants and rolled over backward when Armand started to talk. He scared the hell out of me; I thought he was asleep and I had gotten very jumpy after seeing what must have been "the psycho".
"He always brings him back in the morning before I wake up."
"So that's the psycho'?" I asked panting, still trying to regulate my breathing after being freaked the hell out.
"Yeah, just go to sleep and Jessie will be back in the morning."
I had questions, but I felt they could wait. Jessie could probably answer them better than Armand anyway. I turned on my side and decided to go to sleep.




3

Morning arrived and I awoke to a trembling figure standing in front of a pool of red on the floor. I jumped out of the bunk, knowing what I was about to see wasn't going to be pleasant but I wasn't prepared at all for what I did see. Armand turned to me as I walked up behind him to get a better look. His eyes were filled with the sickest kind of horror. He attempted to say something, but no words came out when his mouth moved. I moved to the side and viewed what used to be a human body, sitting in the ghastly pink chair.
Blood had pooled all over the floor. It was still the bright happy red of the living. Skin with long black hair connected to it floated on top of some of the puddles. My gaze moved from the floor to the mess in the chair. The head no longer had skin or hair. You could see the muscular structure of the face perfectly. Both blue irised eyeballs hung down to the cheeks, dangling from their retinas. Most of the skull cap was missing, leaving most of the brain exposed. Both ears were gone, as were 3 toes and a hand. A few feet away from the body was a hewn penis on the floor.
For a long time I stood with my mouth gaping. I'd been a contract killer for years but had never seen anything as disgusting as that. Words couldn't adequately describe the condition of Jessie's body. Armand stood staring, frozen and silent. His trembling had gone away. I tried to keep my composure but it was difficult. There seemed to be just the choice of puking or passing out. I didn't even try to make it to the bathroom. Brown liquid flew out of my mouth and landed a few inches short of the carcass. Armand threw up a second later but he didn't even seem to notice it.
Turning away from the horror, I thought about what could happen next. At any given moment Armand and I could end up just like Jessie.
"Armand."
I didn't get an answer from him.
"Armand, come on, say something!"
There was still no reply so I grabbed his arms and shook him, hoping to wake him out of his terrified state.
"Armand, we have to leave!"
The only response I got was a small nod. It was relieving to know he was still close to sanity, but at the same time I wondered if he'd be able to help with the getaway.
I moved to the beds and ripped off the sheets. Armand was watching me as I tied them together into a rope.
"Do think it will work Aquilus? Do you really, honestly, think we'll get away?"
"I don't know, but we have to try. We don't need to end up like Jessie. What a shitty way to go. He was probably skinned before death... We have to do this."
I spoke calmly and somewhat apathetically. We needed to distance ourselves from what happened in order to think clearly.
"Break the window Armand."
My hope was that the task I'd given him would snap him away from his thoughts. He looked for items to throw at the window, but found nothing that would suffice. All the room’s furniture was bolted to the floor boards and the dishes from the table weren’t strong enough to go through. At one point he looked at his hands, then to his feet, as if contemplating whether or not he could shatter it by kicking and punching. We both knew it wouldn't work.
"I think we're going to have to leave the room to find something hard enough to bust the window."
Dread crossed my face. I could feel the colour drain out of it.
"It's not something I want to do either, but it's necessary."
His words came out clear and calm. I wasn't sure if he was still sane. The idea seemed like a death wish but I had no choice but to agree.
"Alright."
Both of us walked to the door. Armand turned the knob and pulled it open. There was a little bit of light coming from a TV in the corner of the new room. A brown and blue plaid chair sat in front of the television. The carpet was a puke coloured form of gold and the walls were pure white. In the chair there was a person with long black hair.
"That's the living room. The psycho sits in the chair all the time watching the same show. The door always leads to this room first, then every other door leads to one of the three rooms and if you go out this door a second time during the day, it takes you to the "cadaver room". It's really very confusing."
I nodded like I understood what he was whispering, but it didn't make sense to me at all.
"Let's get this over with."
Creeping into the living room, we made our way to a door on the right side wall. It was just out of the psycho's view. Half way to the door, a loud creak came flying out of the quiet. We'd made a wrong step. Wheeling around, the psycho stood up and started towards us.
Armand and I bolted for the door and ended up in the "cadaver room". There was no time to grab anything to break the window in our room. The psycho was right behind us. We went for a door on the other side of the cadaver table and ended up back in the living room. The black haired man almost grabbed Armand when we went through the door on the right side wall again. This time we were back in our room. Our only way to escape was to jump through the window. We both flew toward it. The glass shattered and then everything went black.
When I came to, I was alone on the snowy ground outside the massive castle. I looked around me, but Armand was nowhere to be seen. My thoughts went into a dismal territory. Had the psycho gotten him?
It should have been cold, but it wasn't. Standing outside for a moment, I looked around. There was a large cemented area off to the left side of the castle. Light blue 1950's shaped buses were lined up. Elderly people in Hawaiian flower print shirts were getting off of them. They looked like they were going on a long vacation in a sunny paradise. Most of them were smiling. It was an extremely odd site.
The thought of going over and talking to them was passing through my brain when I heard a shout. It came from above me. To my surprise it wasn't a disturbing figure of horror, instead, it was Armand.
"I'm going to get down there! Don't go anywhere!"
It looked like he was on the fifth floor. I wondered if he had killed the psycho. About a minute later Armand came out the door at the bottom of the facade.
"How the hell did you end up back in there?"
"You were passed out on the ground, I thought I'd find out more about this place. I went back in and found that everything was empty. No furniture, no people."
"Really? I saw weird shit too. These old people are getting off of buses over there."
I pointed to the left. Armand watched the little old people for a moment.
"Maybe we should find out where the bus goes next?"
Armand's voice perked up and he smiled after the question.
We quickly made our way through the snow to the buses. We walked to the first in the line. All the passengers had evacuated that bus. A driver sat inside on a bright red seat. We walked up the bus stairs and asked where the bus was going next.
"Well, it looks like we're going to travel to New York City."
Armand and I must have looked a little lost because the driver then told us it wasn't far and we could ride for free if we wanted. We found a seat and waited for the bus to start.




4

"So the rooms were empty?" I asked.
"Yeah, nothing was in them. I traveled all of the fifth floor. Nothing. The doors were normal too. I don't know what the fuck is going on. I'm completely baffled by this entire experience."
"Do you still think we're dead? I mean, if we are, apparently we can die again."
"Yeah, Aquilus, we must be dead. Snow isn't cold and we don't get hurt falling from three stories up. I wish I could know where Jessie's at now. He's dead but maybe, he's somewhere else now. Maybe the whole damn thing was an illusion. I don't know. He had been a good friend, I'd like to find him again some day."
Tears were building in Armand's eyes but he held them back from falling.
"Don't worry, I'm sure where ever he's at now, he's alright."
"I didn't even really get to know him, we never talked about our pasts with each other. When I told you two about killing my girlfriend's parents, that was the first time I'd talked about it since getting here. He'd never spoke of anything from his life."
"Armand, everything will work out. We'll find him again, I'm sure of it."
It was difficult trying to comfort him but he did seem to find some solace in my words. We were quiet for a while. The bus engine started up. After a little bit we were leaving the evil castle behind. As we went along Armand and I stared out the windows. Every season existed at once as we road by trees and fields. Trees wore their autumn colours, the ground was covered in snow. Flowers sprang forth in the fields and rivers flowed gently. We didn't see any houses or other castles along the way. Before we knew it, we started looking at tall buildings and loads of street lights. It was night in the city and day outside it. The driver stopped the bus.
"Everybody off!"
Armand and I got off and gawked at what we saw. An odd assortment of people walked by us. Some of them were half animal while others were pale white vampiric things. A few looked human, which was relieving.
Together, we made our way down the sidewalk. At the end of the block there was a medium height building with a sign reading Vacancy. Feeling we had no choice, we decided to go in to stay the night. The desk clerk was one of the vampiric things. She checked us in and gave us our room key. We climbed a winding staircase to the 13th floor and walked down a long hallway with dark red carpeting. Our room was at the end, number 69. Armand and I laughed a little, then walked in. To our amazement, we had roommates. One appeared to be a werewolf while the other two were normal humans.
"Hey hey, new room-mates fellas!" the werewolf shouted. The other two came forward to introduce themselves.
"Hey there, I'm Blondie and the wolf guy other there is Jicker."
"And I'm Ehlin. You two are...?"
"Armand and Aquilus."
"Welcome, friends. Feel free to look around and get comfortable."
Armand and I did look around and noticed a few odd things but nothing seemed that strange anymore. After we were done examining the room and bathrooms we walked over to the table where the three were playing a game of poker.
"We don't want to be rude, but can we interrupt you for a moment?" I asked them.
"Sure no problem." Ehiln said.
"We've got a few questions."
"Alright then..."
"Well, first, are we dead? And is this place actually a permanent residence or a just a hotel?
"Ha ha, the boys aren't sure about themselves!" Jicker said to his friends then looked back to us.
"Of course you're dead. Everyone in this world is dead. We've all come from different times and different places, but we're all dead as dead gets. You're on what we call, the 'first level'. This is the plane right after death. You can stay on it or leave it when the time comes. Some of us can even show up as ghosts in the human realm. Scares the shit out of them but we think it's hilarious.
And yeah, this is a place you can stay permanently. You have to pay a little rent but it's your's. So you need to get your asses out there and get a job hahaha"
Armand felt the need to ask a few more questions. His curiosity was not satiated.
"Can you die if you're already dead?"
Ehlin gave him the best answer he could have ever hoped for.
"Oh yeah, you can die twice, three times even more. If you die on the first level you're sent to the next or sent back to the human realm. It depends on how you die the next time around. If you're murdered or commit suicide, which is a difficult thing to accomplish here, you get sent back as a new human. If you die by some bizarre accident, you go to the next level or plane."
A smile came out on Armand's face. He'd never appeared so happy. With a jovial voice he asked the next few questions.
"Have any of you ever been to this Castle outside the city?"
Blondie looked up from his cards.
"I've been there. It's not a pleasant place. I was stuck on a floor with serial killers. I think all the old people that show up there on buses get a different experience than the rest of us common youngsters. Is that where you two started out?"
We both told him yes and Armand continued his questioning.
"These are the last questions for now, I think. Where did the half animal half human and vampire people come from? And where do we get jobs?"
"We're the result of our problems. We were all drug abusers. Apparently that shit affects the life energy or something." Jicker smiled, but obviously didn't like to think about the past.
"You can get a job anywhere, just look in the paper's classified. It's just like back in the human world." Ehlin ever so helpfully told them.




5

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Armand and I talked for a while about how things were going to be. We both realized that everything was going to turn out alright. There were jobs we could get and we had three new friends. Death had been strange but it was going to be a good place for us. This was a second chance that we couldn't get in life. We were both excited about making the most of our new existences. For a while neither of us could sleep, but then Armand fell into dreams and I followed soon after.



-----------author's note----------
This was a dream i had one night. Yeah, wacked out isn't it? I've got the psychology behind it though. While one character shares my pen name, he is however, not technically me. He is what is referred to as, my shadow. The embodiment of all that i cannot be in waking existence. (What a wicked beast i would be if i was all that.) I was able to determine that all 4 characters were dream embodiments of various emotions. Armand=sensitivity/intelligence, Aquilus=arrogance/courage/mischief, Jesse=fear/pain/anxiety and The Psycho=senseless insanity. Jesse is somewhat killed off, therefore subconsciously i was attempting to annihilate those aspects he represented. As for the rest, i could spend an eternity writing about the meanings.

There are two stories thus far that follow this one. Both are the back stories of two characters, Armand and Aquilus. Those tell how each ended up in the strange room with ugly furniture.