Author Topic: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)  (Read 2361 times)

arbraun

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You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« on: September 17, 2009, 01:07:47 PM »
This is a story I'm submitting to Necrography magazine. I'm looking for detailed, constructive critiques.

"You'll Be Their Food" by A. R. Braun

Goddamn swine flu.

I couldn’t take the agony after Millie died. At forty-five, what was I supposed to do, go back to the singles’ bars? I loved the old woman. Though she’d packed on quite a few pounds and her red hair had been streaked with gray, she’d been the one to give me only the best, whether it was cooking, support or lovemaking.   

I couldn’t just wait for the disease to kill me. Sitting in here with my dog and her cat for company didn’t cut it. Why wait for the pestilence to slowly rot away my insides?

I shot myself in the head.

The only problem was that my soul didn’t immediately take flight when my body died. I’ve been in this position for a few minutes, and I’m not outside of my body and fading to black.

Fear with tentacles writhed through me when my cat came in.

At first, my wife’s Persian long-hair fluttered around the house looking at shit. I could still feel the cushion of the easy chair under me and could hear the TV wailing in the corner. So when Prissy jumped into my lap after growing bored, I panicked.

What if my pets ate me?

The sun’s rays poured into the window and blinds, making me want to sweat and leaving lines of light on the carpet. I smelled my piss and shit, remembering my bowels emptying. Rancid and squishy, that. If I could’ve puked I would’ve. Prissy meowed at me, sniffing my nose, then reared her head back and hissed.

Oh shit, no! Afterlife, get me out of here!

People say animals are incapable of evil. They don’t know Prissy. She pissed and shat on the floor when she didn’t get the kind of cat food she wanted, and when she didn’t think I paid her enough attention, Prissy would wail until she got it. She’d scratched me while I slept and while I made love to Millie. What would prevent her from doing so now?

I could feel her soft, slight weight on me as she shifted on my lap and stood up, baring her claws. Oh God, I can’t fight back! Please let my daughter and son come over and find me! She swiped my face a couple of times, then backed away a bit in a crouch with her ears tucked, ready to run if I awoke. When Prissy saw I was defenseless, she clawed my cheeks a couple more times.

Then she lapped the blood.

There was no feeling worse than this. If I could’ve managed goose bumps, I would’ve. Someone walked over my grave. There she was, licking up my life juice as if it was milk.

Then she went at my left eye.

Oh shit, God, fuck, somebody stop her! At first, she just licked at my eyeball. I wished I could’ve shut my eyes and knocked her on the floor, for the tickling and stinging sensation was unbearable.

Then she bared her fangs, hissed again, and spat.

Her cat never liked me. Millie had owned her for five years before we met. Now a finicky eight year old feline, her hatred for me had never softened. Right from the start she’d ran out of the room whenever I came in or attacked me when I was with Millie.

She lunged with lightning speed.

When Prissy bit my eye out, if I could’ve screamed, I would’ve shrieked. The pain was akin to a third degree burn, the kind that makes you pace the room with insanity until it subsides. She dug her sharp little teeth into my eye and pulled until it popped out. Then she masticated it as if the orb were a canned food delicacy.

Ahhh! Oh fuck! God, please, ugh! Take me and stop the pain!

No God came as I was forced to watch Prissy gulp it down, then lick her lips. With that, she jumped down and ran into the other room.

Pussy from hell piece of shit.

That was nothing compared to when Killer came running in, his tongue lagging out of his mouth, a fully-grown black lab. Barking, he skidded to a halt right in front of me, cocking his head while saliva dripped from his maw and onto the carpet.

Oh, fuck me running and hurdling! When will I lose consciousness?

Killer whined, stretched out on the floor and put his head over his paws, looking up at me surreptitiously. Then he changed his mind, bounded up and went in for a closer look, sniffing my face. The disgusting, putrid breath reeked while he licked me with that sandpaper tongue.

Oh gross, he won’t stop licking! No, not the blood coming out of my eye socket!

This brought more pain then I could comprehend. My pickle didn’t end there, however; Killer spotted the right side of my head where I’d blown my brains out. When he walked around to the right side of the chair, I groaned inwardly with every fiber of my being.

Somebody help me! He’s licking my death wound!

With every swipe of his grating tongue, I winced inside, stabbing pain jamming me with no remorse. And then…oh dear Lord, then…he…

AHHHH. OWWWW. KILLER’S BITING MY BRAINS AND TUGGING THEM OUT.

I wanted to crawl out of my skin. That’s the only way I can describe the agony. The impasse forced on me by that hound of hell brought explosions of hurt, for after he’d chewed up the parts of my brain that had leaked out, he started pulling out the rest.

How can I think if he’s eating my mind away? Good God, how am I still conscious?

I started to wonder if this was hell. I’d never been a big part of the church Millie had dragged me to. I’d usually slept through the services, and never taken part in volunteer work. Perhaps this was what became of selfish men instead of fire and brimstone, because—as I mentioned before—the pain was congruent to just that: a burning sizzle of torment.

Killer pulled back and sat in front of me, loudly chomping the brains, knocking his big teeth together and then licking his chops. Killer, you cock-sucking son of a bitch! I would’ve buried you in the backyard, not eaten you. The pistol I clutched in my right hand still held five rounds, and if I could’ve, I would’ve emptied the remaining bullets into the dog and cat the next time they dared stalk into the room. When his crimson chin was black again, he made his exodus.

Then I waited in my solitary Hades. I’d never felt more alone watching day turn into night, the only light being the television playing one of those stupid dance shows I would’ve turned off if I’d been alive. This is what’s become of me—left staring at the wall, for the picture from the TV was in the corner of my right eye.

Panic took me like a serial killer.

A spider climbed close to my eye. Not just a little innocuous one that only scared women and children, but a daddy long-legs. It wasn’t like I didn’t know it was coming. I’d felt it crawl up my bare arm. Now it tickled my eyeball as it climbed over it to block my sight. Oh shit, I don’t want to know what those things do when I lose consciousness!

It pulled from my eye and bored underneath it! Pain like stick pins assaulted me. The torture was akin to what the enemy would perpetuate if I were a POW.

Kitty trotted in. Oh no. Prissy jumped onto my lap, mewling for dinner. Well, I was it. I’d become their food, insanely providing for them one last time, and not in the way I wanted!

Then the feline swiped at my face after the spider worked its way out of my eye and crawled up my nose. The cat’s claw caught on my iris, making my erupting sensation of agony worse than belief. She tore it out, and a sickening squishing sound followed—too much for my ears to bear. I could hear the dreaded hell cat chew the other eye. Now I sat blind as chilled blood dripped down my cheek.  

As the spider explored, the tickling sensation was even worse than when my big sister inflicted her miasma on me when I was a lad. It feathered through my private spaces and worked its way into my mouth.

Ahhh! Goddamn you, Lord of cruelty! Will you ever take me home?

The prickling sensation of the spider crawling out of my mouth was followed by the cat sinking her fangs into my maw while going for another snack. Cold blood trickled down my chin after she yanked off part of my bottom lip and pitter-pattered away.

Oh God, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!

It didn’t stop. Killer stomped in and dined on more leaking gray matter. The canine tugged so hard my head slumped to the right. Then the dog actually toppled me from the chair and onto the floor. Killer chomped more brains until none remained, then skulked off.

I knew the dead of night had fallen, for the crickets chirped outside my window, and with the evening hours came insects. I didn’t clean up after my last supper or take the trash out. I couldn’t see what kind of bugs—I’m guessing cockroaches—but feelers and myriads of little legs went into my pants, up my ass and even into my dick-hole. The pinches of punishment didn’t stop. Somebody help me! I can’t even sleep! The critters forced their hard shells into my nut-sack…and they ate, oh God, they ate away my sperm! Stinging, jabbing pain had its way with me.

Yes, I’m quite sure this is hell. I think it will take a long time for them to consume every ounce of meat from my bones.

I think it’ll take an eternity.

Offline Michelle. V. Thorpe

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #1 on: September 17, 2009, 06:49:11 PM »
OMG! Disgusting! lol.
But very good. Im pretty sure this shouldnt be read to children. lol.
Loved it!
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arbraun

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #2 on: September 18, 2009, 01:07:11 PM »
Thanks.

sliver of a shard

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #3 on: September 18, 2009, 02:23:39 PM »
howdy  ;D This was well done and almost made me lose my lunch (we need a bilious shade of green e- mote face for this sort of thing  ;D)  so I couldn't get persnickety with it. So yes, send 'er off!


arbraun

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #4 on: September 18, 2009, 02:48:23 PM »
Thanks.

Offline Becki

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #5 on: September 20, 2009, 11:19:32 AM »
OMG! What a trippy story. I must admit, there were parts that made me laugh, and parts that made me cringe. And if I was contemplating suicide right now, this story would change my mind. Thanks for sharing it with us. I really enjoyed it, and I think you should send it off.

Becki :)

arbraun

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #6 on: September 20, 2009, 02:20:08 PM »
Wow, it's ready to send off, huh? I must have gotten to the point where I can do it myself. Awesome! Thanks!

Nordy

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #7 on: September 20, 2009, 04:58:54 PM »
Great visual descriptions, I’m jealous ;)  Let us know when you get it published. I enjoyed reading it, thanks!

Offline Joe Mynhardt

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #8 on: September 20, 2009, 05:12:49 PM »
Just a quick tip, Arbraun. (If you haven't sent it in yet)

Read some of the stories necrography have published to make sure
if they allow capital letters sentences. A lot of publishers don't.

A lot of sentences also start with 'then.' This is actually a word you should
try and avoid. It reminds the reader he's being told a story.
Which is not what you want. The reader must forget about his/her own
world and live in yours.

Hope it helps. Good luck.
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arbraun

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #9 on: September 21, 2009, 12:42:47 PM »
Finally! Some suggestions! I knew it wasn't perfect yet. Thanks Joe. I've actually read the sample copy, but I'll have to go through it again and look for all caps.

arbraun

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #10 on: September 21, 2009, 12:43:52 PM »
Thanks, Nordy. I will.

Offline Joe Mynhardt

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #11 on: September 21, 2009, 12:58:06 PM »
Don't stress it. There is no perfect. Only the preferences of the reader and
the editor/publisher. Write what they both want and you've got yourself a publishable
story.

All the best,
Joe
Founder and CEO of Crystal Lake Publishing - Tales from the Darkest Depths.
Two time Bram Stoker Award nominated editor publishing only the best in Dark Fiction. Check out Crystal Lake's books and grab two free titles by joining the newsletter.

arbraun

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #12 on: September 21, 2009, 02:31:15 PM »
So true. Thanks again, Joe.

Offline Lumynescence

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #13 on: September 21, 2009, 04:21:27 PM »
I just want to put this out first- I have a strong phobia of sharp objects being pointed at my eyes. Experience with sharp objects makes me a bit shaky.

Your story almost made me have a fit.

But it's great, even if I didn't want to continue- it made me want to continue! It's terribly gruesome but it is good work, and hooking. The statement, "I shot myself in the head" was a shock and I continued, as well as the fact that this character was completely helpless to defend himself- which also made me want to continue. Gave me a very interesting look on suicide, and if the body can feel when dead. Good work mate. :) Send her off! :) :)

Offline goldmouse5

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Re: You'll Be Their Food, 1,660 words, horror (cussing and violence)
« Reply #14 on: September 21, 2009, 09:56:02 PM »
Hiya arbraun - interesting!  I only have one little comment. This is the only line that I just didn't get...Fear with tentacles writhed through me when my cat came in.

Why was fear writhing through you with tentacles????? because you knew the cat was going to eat you? I really enjoyed the piece and it all worked for me except that one thing. It just "pops" out from a very fluid piece.

Judith
JAHU