Author Topic: Toothie (Chapters 6-9) HORROR  (Read 1689 times)

davidleejones13

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Toothie (Chapters 6-9) HORROR
« on: May 06, 2008, 06:04:30 AM »
Chapter 6
Dead Dream

Greg began to think Toothie was poisoning his soul. He found delight in the moments the monster returned to his body and woke his soul from the dead dreams.

The dead dreams had told him a lot about Toothie's past, but the invigorating return to his body and the break it provided his soul from straining at the monsters chain eased his pain.

The second kill they performed was exciting to Greg. Toothie was getting better at controlling his dead body and Greg was enjoying the rush the monster got from his kills.  He found it exciting, even fun.

Greg watched through the dripping inky eyes as they snuck up on the unsuspected stumbling lady and then dragged her struggling form into a small narrow access way off the street.

He reveled in the thrill they may wake someone and get caught as they ushered their struggling victim into the small dilapidated yard off of Hanbury street walking distance from the Ten Belles.

He still tasted the brandy and felt its warmth in his cold dead stomach as they pushed the girl towards the back corner of the yard and pinned her on her back just under a dark doorway.

Greg swore he heard someone in the shadows before Toothie managed to get a hand over their preys mouth so she could not scream out.

All she managed to get out was a stifled 'no' she was so confused and drunk.

He now realized his role was lookout for the monster for Toothie knew nothing of controlling his human body's senses. Greg also begrudgingly knew that was the only reason Toothie allowed his soul to live on.

He felt a rush when Toothie cut the first artery in the womans neck. Just on the other side of the fence there was an adjoining yard anyone could walk through at any moment and he swore since the first time he had killed himself he felt his heart beat.

What made it even more exciting was that the East End London sky was afire with pre dawn light.  The sun would rise in less than half an hour. He knew it was bitter cold in these growing hours of the morning but his dead body no longer felt cold. Only warmth.  The first splash of the woman's hot blood on his cold dead skin was like ecstasy to Greg.

He felt black ink rush through his veins as Toothie began sawing at the womans neck and he spied her eyes wide with pain and terror.

Then an unexpected feeling came over him as he watched in the soft pre dawn light the life slowly leave her terrified eyes. Her soul was free. His was Toothies.

He watched in horror as Toothie began sawing away at the woman's stomach and began pulling out it's contents.
The demon knew what the inside of a humans mind was like but he now wanted to know what the inside of a humans body was like. He felt the rage that had been purged from his soul to give birth to this creature glowing furious like a black hot flame.

Greg's earlier revelry melted away with the ever brightening sky on their way back to Hope street.

As Toothie left Greg's body and the sun peeked over the East End London skyline outside his window his synaptic fire began to dim. His frightened mind grasped at the residual waning power Toothie left behind to no avail.

"I have to send Toothie to his own dead dream," was his last sluggish thought as his soul yanked on the black inky chain and he slowly drifted back into a dead dream of his own.

Chapter 7
Fiery Dawn

Greg became confused within the dead dream. He was in an unfamiliar environment. He saw himself on top of a great temple. He looked around and saw he was high atop the world looking down on a canopy of lush trees. The sky to the east was a flaming red indicating the morning sun was ready to burst forth and bring dawns fiery brilliance.

He had a slight sense of vertigo as he looked down the steep steps leading down to the jungle floor. Crimson red painted the side of the building that possessed the steep stairway. He looked to his hand and noticed he was holding a heart still dripping with exquisite warmth in cold dead gray fingers.

Behind him a giant pyre burned fiercely and the heat at his back was almost unbearable, but it was warmth none the less and his dead body craved and missed it.

Greg then felt Toothie stir deep within this mind. The same familiar hatred and darkness. He heard a strange language within his head but he understood the odd sounding dialect. It was Toothie's gurgling voice, and this phrase he repeated over and over again.

"The Day has Come, the Day of Dead."

What surprised Greg was how powerful Toothie was.  He could feel the black thick liquid that was the creatures blood coursing through this body.  He could feel the heart within beating furiously, pumping so hard dark inky blood painfully gushed through open wounds all over the host  body.  Black thick blood oozed from every orifice.  Toothie's face was in his mind's eye, it's fang filled mouth hungrily tearing at human souls.

"The Day has Come, the Day of Dead."

He watched as a long line of half naked natives climbed the steps towards him atop this ancient temple.  He looked into the closest faces and saw they chanted the same phrase with hypnotic reverence.  He unceremoniously threw down the heart as the next chanting person approached.

"The Day has Come, the Day of Dead."

Greg was surprised to feel an underlying hopeless desperation and in that very instant he knew Toothie did not have long. A black lump grew in his throat as his next victim dutifully walked up and knelt before him averting her eyes to the smooth gray stones at her feet.

Her skin was dark olive and her face was framed by straight long dark hair stirred by the morning breeze. Greg thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.  Then he felt Toothie's contempt bubble up to the surface. Toothie abhorred anything that was precious. And to a human what is more precious than beauty.

The woman was prompted to rise and Greg noticed another feeling stirring within.  Love. He also felt a different kind of hatred he believed not emanating from the monsters dark dripping soul. Momentary confusion was overcome by realization. This woman was Toothie's host's mate.

"NO!" he heard the blood curdling scream within his soul. Then there was the gurgling unmistakable laughter that was Toothie's response.

The woman grabbed her ample breasts and dutifully pulled them aside to allow easier extraction of her heart. Greg was taken back as he noticed that within her dark brown eyes he saw love and absolute devotion reflected there.  And something else, godlike reverence.

"She did not know," Greg thought within the dead dream, "about the monster within her loved one."

"The Day has Come, the Day of Dead." She repeated stepping closer. A slight smile parted her lush lips as she closed her eyes and threw her head back awaiting the knifes cold steely bite.

A sickening feeling overcame Greg as the scream of Toothie's host permeated this soul once again. It was futile for the creature was just too powerful. The monster's hand would not be stayed.

Greg watched, a helpless bystander, as the curved knife raised into the air hungry to part skin and bone and remove it's prize. The moment was electric with love, venomous fury and blind hate. Greg felt the body wretch black ink.

Then something wonderful happened. The floodgates of the horizon broke and dawn burst forth. Toothie staggered backward as if the red blazing light that flowed over earths lip was a gale force wind.  Every where black ink touched dead grey flesh burned with an acidic smoke. Searing heat burned at every nerve ending as dead flesh boiled in black burning ink. 

Toothie's power dropped away and months of decay that was held back by the dark monster ravaged the host body in mere seconds. Nature furiously dried up the tissue leaving behind dry ashes and burnt bone.

The woman ran over dropping to her knees digging at the dead ash and sobbing.

Greg's perspective changed and suddenly he was afloat on the morning breeze. He could not help but look back to catch one more glimpse of the beautiful olive complexioned angel as he rode straddling a strand of dark drippy DNA encased in a hard protein shell, drifting on the breeze.

Chapter 8
Black Blood, Red Ink

After the second killing Toothie began to wake Greg almost nightly. Instead of spontaneous mutilations the monster started planing his ghastly murders . They would spend long dark nights just wandering the shadowy cold places and obscure tucked away corners of Whitechapel.

Greg was surprised at how many of these seedy spots there were in the neighborhood he had called home. When he was alive he had walked past many of them oblivious to their existence.

Greg had noticed that Toothie was getting to know the thrill of stalking his victim, sometimes for several nights, before he would move in and do his evil deed.

Toothie's powers had grown greatly and Greg noticed how adept at camouflage the monster had become.
They could easily hang out with the unclean population of East End London without anyone noticing the dripping inky eyes nor the rotting flesh that was now beginning to peel off of Greg's dry bones. The monster seemed to have the ability to make Greg's rotting corpse look healthy and whole to those that laid eyes upon them.

He also noticed that black blood was starting to seep through some of the more damaged places through his dead gray skin. He flashed back to the dead dream and knew what was going to happen to him and despite his condition he shivered.

Greg had also noticed something about himself that really rattled his soul. He himself was beginning to enjoy the kills. It was the only time he felt close to being alive again. Greg felt the turmoil growing within his soul and welcomed the inevitable fires of Hell that would eventually cleans the darkness from it.

After the monster insisted on Greg reading the newspaper to him nightly to learn more about their victims, Toothie began a dangerous game with the authorities . The creature marveled at how inept the police were in their investigations of his work. So the creature began taunting them through written word .

He had Greg write a letter to the paper knowing the police would eventually receive it. The letter itself Toothie wanted to write in blood. Greg flashed back to their last murder and now knew what the monster had in mind when Toothie grabbed an empty bottle and saved some of Dark Annie's blood. At the time he thought the creature was saving it to drink. The evil monster threw a fit when the blood became thick and could not be used to write the letter. The monster settled for red ink instead.

Toothie became inspired as Greg was writing the letter and decided he was going to really stir things up with the authorities. He had Greg mention that he was going to send the police a piece of a victim's ear after the next murder.

Greg had noticed that this new taunting technique had given their nightly stalkings an exciting edge as the police doubled their efforts. During their jaunts between Whitchapel pubs they had noticed the number of policeman walking beats in the area had increased greatly. Greg noticed that Toothies excitement was almost palpable as black blood surged vigorously pumped through his veins. He had to wipe inky liquid from his nose as it began letting charcoal colored blood.

The cold rain soaked night did not effect the duo as they made their way down Settles Street close to eleven at night. This was Toothie's favorite weather to "hunt" in. The rain had picked up considerably and came down in great sheets pounding noisely on the lane in front of them. The monster was hungry for a kill and was becoming desperate they had not found a suitable victim in the waning hours of this night. Toothie was becoming disappointed he would not be able to properly stalk a victim when they heard shouts from a public house up ahead.

"That's Leather Apron getting 'round you!" They heard above the pounding rain as a couple ran from a doorway ten feet from them and passed by in the opposite direction.

The creature recognized the nickname from the paper as being one of the suspects of his murders and decided this woman would provide the perfect victim for a delightful frame up job. The murder would be pinned on this man with the dark mustache, sandy eyebrows and the billycock hat.

Toothie melted into the shadows as the couple turned onto Berner Street and ducked into a doorway. They began hugging and kissing one another. The duo looked on whilst the man and woman carried on in a not so discreet manner in the darkness of the doorway. Greg could feel the monsters seething dark fascination watching the couple copulate as the creature reached inside his jacket and closed dead fingers around the hilt of Donovan Thomas' surgical knife.

After a few moments the couple finished up and the black mustached bushy eyebrowed man pressed a few coins into the ladies hand. The two parted company going in opposite directions, the man going back to the public house.  The woman continued down Berner Street and Greg felt the pulse of ink quicken beneath his dead cold skin. As they fell in behind the woman he felt the lifeless skin upon his face split oozing blackness as Toothie cracked a grin.

The hunt was on.

Chapter 9
Berner Street

They stuck to the shadows and as the woman made her way down Berner Street toward the London School Board building, the rain slowed and then stopped.

Greg and Toothie hung back and waited for the perfect moment to move in for the kill. The monster was practically giddy with anticipation as the woman stopped and talked to a man with a sailors cap upon his head. The two talked for a moment and then began hugging and kissing.

"You would say anything but your prayers." The man with the sailors hat said to her as she dragged him into a dark alley way.

"She is at it again?" Greg said to himself in disbelief.

"The bitch deserves to die," came Toothie's gurgling reply within Greg's mind. "And soon she will pay her penance."

This time the plying of her trade took considerably longer. As the duo stood impatiently across the street Greg could feel the creatures dismay their victim was not on the move. Dark blood coursed through dead veins that were brittle and dry from disuse. Greg felt an inky trickle of the liquid running down his earlobe and then down his neck.

There was not time to wipe it away for their prey suddenly re emerged from the dark alleyway adjusting her black crepe bonnet. The man was no where to be seen. She pulled a packet of cachous out of her pocket and popped one into her mouth before she continued on her way.

As they made their way along the street Greg noticed up ahead a loud murmur of noise growing. The source of the ruckus was a two story barn like building on their side of the street.  He knew this place only from the rumors he had heard when he was still alive. The International Worker's Club.

The number of people on the street increased as they made their way closer to the noisy night spot. Greg felt his pulse quicken and his heart lurched in pain as it painfully beat with unfamiliar exertion within his dead chest. A spill of black molasses ran over his lip and slowly rolled down his chin. He wiped it away with his sleeve as a police constable walked past them in the opposite direction.

The woman had stopped in front of a large alleyway entrance and was conversing with a young man with a dark coat and hard deerstalker hat perched upon his head. There seemed to be some heated discussion and the man tried to grab the woman and forcibly drag her away by the arm.

She yanked her arm free and stumbled backward against the wooden door of the alleyway and fell to the ground in the darkness beyond. The young man looked around and spotted the police officer, who walked on not having noticed his indiscretion. The young man then pulled his collar up around his neck, looked around and disappeared into the crowd milling around the front entrance of the pub next door.

Toothie knew the time had come and wasted no time crossing the street. Greg felt his heart race at a frenzied pace and feared it just may explode drenching his insides in black ink.

Their prey was pushing herself up against a wall as they passed through the alley entrance and into it's darkness. She held an old pocket knife defensively before her  defiantly waving it at their silhouette.

"You will not take me sir," she said with a sneer flashing yellowing smoke stained teeth, "without a fight."

She lunged forward and sunk the knife deep into Greg's chest. Black blood sprayed her frightened face as she withdrew and threw her back against the wall. She panted for breath and then confusion slowly set her face muscles as she realized her attacker still stood.

Toothie was now in complete control and Greg heard the rush of dark blood pumping in his ears above the din of chaotic noise from the club next door. Toothie grabbed the hilt of the woman's knife and yanked it from Greg's lifeless chest. Another spray of black blood marked their victim and he then roughly grabbed her up and held her close.

She screamed three short times but Toothie was squeezing the breath from her lungs so she could not be heard by the crowd just outside the alleyway.

"May I have this dance?" Toothie whispered and smiled through Greg's mouth. He began swaying with the sobbing lady mockingly dancing with her.

He held up her own knife for her to inspect in the light that feebly shone over the wooden door of the alley's entrance. He then placed a hand forcibly over her mouth and she let out a soft whimper as he shoved her painfully against the opposite wall of the alleyway.  Thrusting his pelvis forward he pinned her to the side of the edifice.

Greg felt the unexpected rush of sexual energy rush to his groin as Toothie began sawing at the woman's neck with her own dull knife. Warm blood sprayed delightfully across Greg's face and over his hands. As he watched the life slowly fade from her eyes he was appalled he felt no remorse, for in that mere moment he was awash with the feeling his dead body craved most.  Life.

The monster stepped back and let the lady's body slowly fall to the ground. He had knife at the ready to begin his mutilations when the neighing of a donkey echoed off the alley way walls. They turned and saw a donkey and cart filling the entrance to the alley.

Toothie melted into the darkness as the carts driver jumped to the ground and passed through the entrance. He saw the woman laying on the ground and called out for help to the crowd outside the alley.

The duo made their escape through the yard the alleyway emptied into and over a fence. The fleeting feeling of life seeped away from Greg as they climbed the fence and stumbled onto the cobbles on the other side.

He barely paid attention to Toothie's outrage as he launched into a mumbling tirade within Greg's dead mind. He did not even hear the evil monsters comments until he finished with the last sentence.

"That whore got off lucky!" The creature's gurgling voice trailed off.




Hunter

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Re: Toothie (Chapters 6-9) HORROR
« Reply #1 on: May 09, 2008, 08:05:04 AM »
Quote
Toothie's powers had grown greatly and Greg noticed how adept at camouflage the monster had become.
They could easily hang out with the unclean population of East End London without anyone noticing the dripping inky eyes nor the rotting flesh that was now beginning to peel off of Greg's dry bones. The monster seemed to have the ability to make Greg's rotting corpse look healthy and whole to those that laid eyes upon them.

He also noticed that black blood was starting to seep through some of the more damaged places through his dead gray skin. He flashed back to the dead dream and knew what was going to happen to him and despite his condition he shivered.
Awesome. I think you might be a natural horror writer. This is excellent Lee. The above description really gets into your head, but the rest is equally as good. Definately your finest I think.
I'm a bit confused about the chapter numbers though. I seem to have gone from Chapter 1 and then onto chapter 6 . . . I wouldn't mind seeing what's in between.

Let me know.

Hunter

davidleejones13

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Re: Toothie (Chapters 6-9) HORROR
« Reply #2 on: May 09, 2008, 09:51:01 AM »
Hey Hunter,
Thanks for the nice comment. Toothie was definetly one of my favorites to write. It did very well on the boards when I originally posted. It actually spun off a few tales by one of the best writers on the site, Chris Silva. He picked it up and wrote three extremely chilling tales you can search with the key words "Dark Days."

here is the link for chapter 1-5

http://www.mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=14389.0

You will also find the links to chapters 10-12 and chapter 13 further into the gallery.
Thank you Hunter. I appreciate you following my CUTE LITTLE MONSTER.

Lee

Offline Ninny

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Re: Toothie (Chapters 6-9) HORROR
« Reply #3 on: May 11, 2008, 03:53:18 AM »
CUTE!!! :o  What also gives your demonic creature the edge is the way you write the piece in your Southern drawl (which is beautiful by the way!)... as you obviously know, there is a lot of evidence now and they are nearly 100% certain that the 'Ripper' was indeed an American.
A chilling read and I for one am very, very scared.  Oh and the neck thing.....yurgghh!! 
Oh, and one tiny thing is that the 'Ten Belles' over here would be the 'Ten Bells'...much duller I know!!
Anyway as usual you had me glued to the screen...Thankyou ;D

davidleejones13

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Re: Toothie (Chapters 6-9) HORROR
« Reply #4 on: May 11, 2008, 04:17:44 AM »
Thank you God       

ess. I think from now on that is what I shall call you Ess...
I am glad you are enjoying it. This piece was one of the most enjoyable works for me, and I am glad it caught on when I first wrote it. Now, that you are enjoying it, it makes it that much more enjoyable for me! ;D

Your loyal first mate.
Lee