Author Topic: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words  (Read 3261 times)

Offline thatLous

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Hm... I don't know how many times I changed its title. I'm still not so sure. OH well...

WARNING: Some bad words, blood, and, err, a bit of freakiness. It's a little bit of horror, by the way.

Oh, and believe me, this won't be some zombie story. This story will more likely be a CANNIBALISM (yep, that's a warning right there) kinda story with a bit of, err, what insanity might happen afterwards.

This is pretty much the third draft of my story (I think). Written last year, so I guess my style changed a lot, but it doesn't matter. I just read it again, after roughly five months of leaving it in a folder to be forgotten forever, and thought that I might give it a chance. What do you guys think?

Anyway, here it is:




CHAPTER ONE
And then There Was Light


Complete darkness entirely consumed his vision.

He was blind to everything that was going on in this cold, pitch black universe. He remembered nothing, and knew nothing about why or how the hell he ended up here... in this place; wherever he was. In his mind, though, there was nothing else but one single fact which rang true no matter how much he twisted it around or looked at it in different angles: his life was in danger. He knew it. He could feel it around him. In the cold air, in the silence which filled him, in this place and the icy wall that his whole body was pressed against in silent horror. Somehow he knew, knew like that feeling when someone stabs you, that he was about to die.

The boy shivered when he hesitated; he was afraid to speak, but then he had to say it, choke or spit it out, “What-” the echoes of his unexpected word broke the abyss like thunder, “… the hell?”

He ignored the sudden dry ache in his chest when a reply echoed back—a scuffling of sorts, like fingers, or maybe a sharp fork scraping over mud and wet tiles. There were confused whimpering noises. It was only seconds after that he realized that it was him, and that he was alone.

A sharp intake of breath was followed by pitiful sounds of subdued crying and wet floor tiles squeaking as he scuffed his feet on it, desperately trying to meld his body against the cold wall. His jaws open wide, panting as he tried to scream out, but even if his body wanted to express this growing trepidation, he couldn’t.

But he screamed: “Oh god, please help me, help me.”

He sent out echoing shrieks released into the cold, lips curled as his eyes spewed forth more tears, nose straining to get air into his tightening chest. The boy choked on his sob. He tried to look around to spot at least a bit of light but there was nothing, but judging from how seemingly spacious the universe was, he faintly guessed that he was in a room… a sort of bathroom, perhaps? A butcher’s room? The floor tiles were wet with something, and the walls were paved with rough cement…

His throat hurt. His head lolled upon his chest and he shook it slowly in utter disbelief, shoving a frantic palm hard on his bald head, the other hand scratching the wall beside him. He choked in his own tears and let out a forced shout: “Who’s there?” And then his terrifying thoughts, conceived by a mind he still doubted as sane, made the world halt and tremble.

“Please don’t kill me.”

He felt useless. What was he supposed to do now?… he couldn’t possibly collect his shattered mind and quickly know what he was supposed to accomplish in order to escape the seemingly inescapable. His hope, nonetheless, was squashed because of his own pessimistic words.

Words…?

The sudden realization made him gasp and jerk into a minute stream of common sense. He could hear something. He could hear words. And it was far away from him. And it was a distant mumbling, seemingly far away from him and impossible to reach as he tried to look toward it in the darkness.

The darkness glared at him through a thick veil of nothingness, and he shivered.

When faced with a perilous situation— in this case, the peril of the menacing prevalence of darkness, generally two voices occur in the back of an addled mind: the first one, the voice screaming into his ear right now, was demanding to be relieved of this danger and unbearable discomfort; while the second one, which was now slowly emerging amongst this tumultuous sea of panic, provides the more rational source of thinking in order to achieve the need of escaping the grim universe. The second voice made him bite back another frightened outburst, made him brave enough to face the unknown, and made him try not to swoon from of the impact of his decision.

“I gotta get outta here.” he started, “I’m gonna get outta here.”

Since the wall was already his friend, he trusted that following it like a lifeline would be wise. He needed to get closer to the words. Those words, although quite dull and slightly muffled, promised him something. It promised him answers, promised him that he was still alive and well, and perhaps it would promise him the light of escape.

The wall supporting him seemed to quiver at his touch, as he first began to feel around the universe he was in. It felt robust, smooth, with bits and pieces of what felt like dust and sand crumbling beneath his shaking fingertips. There were a few deeper holes here and there: small, bigger than the others, some were very hollow. He dragged, little by little, his knees along the wet tiles of the universe, silently plunging half of himself into an inner battle against his enemy, Hesitation. He vehemently braved the faceless beasts which kept dragging itself around the face of his spine; the lingering panic, going up his shoulders and down the pretty of his back; and finally, his patronizing words that kept telling him that he was as good as a useless corpse. He ignored them all. He wanted to fucking live.

He dragged his knees down to what felt like a sticky flood, but, after stumbling a bit he firmly gathered his resolve. He almost gagged at the fucked up but faint smell of filthy water pervading his nose, and he briefly thought about the slippery floor and the mysterious waters he was kneeling on. It was at this moment he realized that he wasn’t wearing any clothes at all, and he was briefly amazed at his ignorance. Forgetting about the mysterious puddle, and the suffering of his nose and his sticky knees, he concentrated all his attention on the noise and his ragged breathing. The words were getting nearer as he pushed on with lengthening strides on his knees.

“The People around you. To survive” ... there was a bit of static.

A half-embedded nail caught on the outstretched flesh of his arm, drawing blood and a hissed expletive from the boy’s mouth. His blood was a new sensation, not quite pleasant, but he welcomed its warmth, but that didn’t mean that he liked it too much to let his head get in the way of the nail. It was quite troublesome to determine where the nail was while feeling impatient and panicky, but nonetheless, he managed to cautiously feel around for the elusive sharp thing with careful fingers, and finally found it a meter away from his cheek. It felt half a pinky long, protruding from the chalky hole in the cement, and, judging by its rough texture, was probably a rusty one. He bowed his head forward blindly as he passed, merely feeling a quick sting afterwards— not like the painful constant stinging he was currently feeling on his arm, and there was certainly no trickle of warmth, so he guessed that he merely scratched himself. He thought that his breathing was just too distracting. The words were getting clearer, too.

His legs began to twitch sporadically, ready to collapse. He had half a mind to stand and stretch his legs for a while, but the idea of pausing and wasting another minute seemed impossible, and he knew that he must swiftly push forward, even on his knees if it meant his precious life. He was so near— even if he began to feel strongly to himself that the corner he was trying to reach was non-existent, the noise was still there.

“Starvation is not an option”

Some of the words began to clear up from where he was, but he felt unsatisfied. His breathing came in erratic gasps as he quickened his pace. The boy couldn't keep ignoring his legs’ outbursts of disapproval, though, and he gritted his teeth in desperation. He did what he had to do: he crawled. Fast.

Falling down on all fours, he trusted his shoulders and the rest of his hips to guide him with the lifeline as he ran on all fours like a rabid dog toward the noise; an animal: slobbering in anticipation, panting, bleeding. A cry tore through his body, but he bit it back behind his throat, thinking that if he did make a single noise, the echo would drown out the muted words he was desperately trying to decipher. He thought that he felt a few things scratch at his shoulder and side, but his hurt merely got lost around the sounds of his palms, knees, and feet going ‘PAT, PAT, PAT’.

And then his head hit a wall very hard, and he reeled. The first thing that flitted through his mind was how much of a moron he was, but that disappeared quickly. Now what mattered to the boy most was not the new tingling sensations on his forehead, or the break of new warmth trickling down to the spot of skin between his eyebrows, or the sudden ache of his noggin, or how the dark universe around him seemed to turn as he shook his head— no, it was the noise coming from the outside, reaching down to the universe’s inside. The words were more pronounced, to his great exhilaration, and it seemed that his head had created small, hair-like cracks on what seemed to be…

He knocked his fist upon it… thin wood. A huge wave of elation washed over him. He let off an unrestrained squeal of glee.

The cracks created thin threads of light which, at first, made his eyes sting for a bit, but he felt no need to envelope the streaks of beams with his soppy palms. He brought his face closer to the cracks, almost breathing on it, letting the infant shafts of light somewhat illuminate on his face. He then began to persistently pound his fists on the walls, forcing the cracks to grow wider, desperate for something, anything, to go with the words which were now blearing with a new crystalline version of clarity. The new break of warmth on his knuckles and hands was a welcome sensation.

“Death is not an option” the voice went, cheering for him with its positive, but droning tone.

What he created from all his grunt work was a hole, the size of half of his face. It was enough to let in a ray of fluorescent light into the universe; a life-turning penetration against the unknown. His sense of human survival turned him into a shaking frenzy, obsessed on getting more of those words and more of that light, growing desperate for sight and sanctuary. He hungrily followed the hot trail of light from one end to another, and marveled at how the earth colored tile he was now seeing glowed like a heavenly being. The darkness around the visible tile was, albeit, a bit unnerving for him, if not terrifying. He was horrified that his destination not only caused him quite a bit of relief, but also terror. The boy decided to break the wall and escape the unfeeling universe, monsters be damned. If he did it fast enough, the monsters would miss him. Right?

The voice continued as he quickened his already violent pace, “You must survive to live”

Outside—the place behind this wall— must be his home, whatever it was, but it didn’t matter to him. Nothing mattered but the words, and the wall he was violently plunging his body into, trying to fit more than his head and left shoulders and arm through the gaping perforation. He ignored the swelling of his hands, elbows, and arms; he didn’t mind the dust settling around him, making him wheeze, or the blood oozing through the scratches on his body, or the sudden stab of fluorescent white light in his eyes...

“And live to survive”

The monsters were coming, and they were probably going to grab his legs, which were ecstatically gesticulating above ground since he was pretty much struggling to get his whole chest and midsection through the widening hole now. He was exhaling deeply as he could so that his lungs would deflate to make his chest smaller, and he wanted to believe that more of his blood would make good lubrication at this point.

“And to live, you must” a beat, a bit of radio static, “Eat people around you to survive.”

And it echoed, and ended with a low ‘OOoo’.

All together, he felt his muscles spasm and stop, finally feeling a dreary shadow fall on him like a heavy weight. If his home was this shitty hallway he still couldn’t have felt the gift of consolation; even if half of his body was covered in bloody splinters in a dreary corridor and all— more dirty tiles, puddles of brown water floating with jetsam, dripping pipelines overhead, while some of the lights were blinking on and off… all because of what he had just heard. His heart practically splattered on the floor. His chest heaved, and it didn’t feel pretty against the jagged wood pressing below his colon.  A sickening thing tore up his throat, and this time it wasn’t a scream. It felt like burning acid as it passed down his mouth and onto the wet floor tiles with a joyless, disgusting splat; his colorless vomit intermingled with the colored liquid below, and resulted in a sickening scent of a bleeding corpse.

There was a look of disbelief plastered on his face, even he knew it. He shriveled up inside, died, and forced himself to consider that this place was nothing but a dream; a very painful dream; an empty dream where nothing would be settled or learned after he wakes up. No matter how much he looked at it or how much he began to loathe it: the voice became his world. The voice was now his universe.

“No.”

The voice continued as he again began to viciously twist his body and hack away, hoping that the wood wouldn’t fail him, or betray him like the voice did. His hopes of being saved by the words were dashed. The boy screamed as he hacked away, his brain choosing to ignore the stinging pain on his flesh as new ones appeared on his midsection—adrenaline helping him from this hindering distraction. His throat ripped another terrified howl.

“Survive."
 
"Eat or die”





Soo... how was it? I edited it a bit. Just added and deleted a couple of useless words here and there. Any thoughts? Criticism? Whatever, just pelt me with it   ;D Tomatoes would be well received, thank you thank you. I'd be healthier afterwards, anyways.


An advanced 'Thank you guys, from the bottom of my sick, sick heart!'
Louie
« Last Edit: May 09, 2008, 12:52:20 PM by ThatGuy »

Zetos Lapier

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #1 on: May 08, 2008, 03:17:58 PM »
Well I thoroughly enjoyed your writing, saying it was amateurish was wrong, this is rather well done. I was intrigued by it, though I think that you used the word, "universe" a little too much, if you go to dictionary.com and check up in there theasaurus universe, choose a few of those words to put in place. Other then that, for a first chapter that was really amusing.

At the moment my critisisms seem not to be here, as much as I try, you kept it on track to my eyes, so well done.

Though I do think, at some of these parts, where you were using his thoughts, you could italicize them, and make them into his actual thoughts. Ex.
Quote
He wanted to fucking live. I want to fucking live

Offline thatLous

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #2 on: May 08, 2008, 03:22:00 PM »
Thanks for the crit, Zetos! Oop... damn that italics thing.

Got a lot to change in here, and your help matters a lot ;D


Louie
« Last Edit: May 08, 2008, 03:27:45 PM by ThatGuy »

Offline SteveJ

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #3 on: May 08, 2008, 05:03:15 PM »
Excellent, Louie, you're a natural writer, mate :) :)
A Writer's Christmas:
http://www.lulu.com/content/4931358



The Horde - Available Now:
http://www.lulu.com/content/4076371


Offline thatLous

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #4 on: May 09, 2008, 02:29:25 AM »
Thanks Steve :) To be honest, though, I'll wait until I'm ready to write this down. It's beyond my current capabilities, I'm afraid  :D


... sooo, err-

*shuffles*

May 10 is tomorrow I see...


*runs away whooping like a schoolgirl, trailing half-eaten crackers everywhere*

Offline Ninny

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #5 on: May 09, 2008, 02:46:25 AM »
Just spotted this ...will read later ...am late for work

Offline thatLous

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #6 on: May 09, 2008, 02:55:15 AM »
 :( :( :( <-lonely

I'll see you later then!! :)

Offline ma100

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #7 on: May 09, 2008, 07:15:14 AM »
Hi Louie
I thought this was very well written and with a
a little bit of a spit and polish, will be very good.
Well done
Mairi :)

Hunter

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #8 on: May 09, 2008, 07:56:29 AM »
Ahhh . . . a nice little piece of lunchtime reading. The delights of zombies and such creatures send a warm glow through my tummy. I love creature features and thoroughly enjoyed this. ;)

One question: Where's Vom and the creature in the house? I can't find it and wouldn't mind reading it again.
 :P

Offline thatLous

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #9 on: May 09, 2008, 01:07:04 PM »
Hey guys! ;D Thanks for all your comments!

I wouldn't be doing just a bit of spit and polish, I'll do a whole re-write. I've grown and learned a lot by being in this board, and especially from the people in it-- I tip my hat to all you good people.

Hunter, Hunter, Hunter-- zombies are one thing, but what about articulate zombies? I planned a lot in this plot, and I'm ashamed to say that I've been hesitant in writing it for a while. There'll be violent stuff like, err-- really violent. Twisted religions and such... just really really horrible ones that'll make you question if what they're doing really is right or wrong.

You'll love the overall freakiness of it, I'll work hard for that.

Vom? Oh yeah!  ;D ;D ;D I've been hesitant in putting my stuff on the Gallery here 'cause, well  :D <- dork...  but I wanted to show Zetos so that he may give me some critique (thanks man!), and I didn't want to revive an old post in the Review My Work section. I'll put it up here if you insist :) Thanks, Hunter. Don't see you guys that much anymore :(


Louie
« Last Edit: May 09, 2008, 01:22:43 PM by ThatGuy »

Hunter

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #10 on: May 09, 2008, 06:37:44 PM »
You do reports. We have to work. You work. We have to do reports (at least I do). It is the way of the world.
Listen . . . I can hear something . . . it's a crowd chanting - they're getting closer. What are they saying?

WE WANT VOM! WE WANT VOM!


Offline thatLous

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #11 on: May 09, 2008, 06:40:54 PM »
Still workin' on that, Hunter ;D Just being lazy, isall. But the first, edited part's up in the Gallery :)



Offline Ninny

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Re: Self-Haven (Horror/Freakiness/Some swear words), 2,417 words
« Reply #12 on: May 09, 2008, 07:09:49 PM »
You're sick Louie...sick 'n' twisted >:(  Just like all the best people ;D 
Loved it yet....   So scared :o
More,,WE DEMAND MORE!! >:(