ZOMBIES part 3/3

Sorry, its late, but i simply burned out what i wrote before(decided to make a whole new story over chemical zombies, a spin-off if you like) and give this one a more definitive end.

thank you!

* Two months since the last time I heard them screaming and hunting; On the streets they are all still and silent. Some move slowly, dragging feet, wandering, others just stay there, like statues.

The strange smell now are a toxic mist that never go away, dark, heavy, flooding the streets, sometimes higher than a car, others few inches over the pavement, but it’s deadly, and it come from them. Its dreadfully obvious: Mouth, nose and even skin, covered in bubbles filled with this strange gas, that bursts redeeming the once human bodies to shreds.

At first I thought it was my salvation: They would simple go away by themselves, like they came in first place. But it was before I realize how sick I am.

In the first weeks, we were told that only bites would be contagious. But then they informed that scratches were equally dangerous, soon it was any body fluid when in contact with unprotected skin. But we should have realized something didn’t add. They still multiplied in a absurd rate, even with increased quarantine measures.

Why took so long to realize it’s also airborne? No one look over it? Or they kept secret thinking that it would be pointless to warn the public, that it would be already too late to do anything?

I feel stupid, and I lay down on my tub, my little bunker in this hell. I look at the tip of my toes, black and necrotic. My body is numb, but I still feel pain, my mind burn with waves of agony. My pulse become slower and my temperature had been so high in the last week that would be enough to kill anyone in matter of hours, now drop rapidly.

Soon my temperature will be room temperature, and its winter.  

Is hard to keep writing. I was crying, or I tough I was, but my tears were nothing but this dark chemical, liquid. I saw it become vapor in my hands and smell, maybe for the last time in my HUMAN life the odor of this poison.

Now everything is pale to my eyes, no dark, no bright, all pale, sepia…Confused.

So hungry…Pain is gone, no it just moved, from head to stomach. It’s like having a rabid dog on my belly, and it’s always hungry. If it’s not feed, it tortures me, but I can’t scream or even cry silently. And I know what food is.

I may not survive much longer, I don’t remember what is happening. I went down stairs, and removed the barricades on my doors. I don’t feel like writing anymore.

Wait.

A woman’s cry.

 Screams.

Hunger and furious, I will eat today.

"YOU NEED A HERO"-Part 0002#

Here is "YOU NEED A HERO" part 2; later today i will post last part of "ZOMBIES" & Monday comes second part of "CHANCES".
Please enjoy!.

0002#

She got there an hour ago, two hours since the first patrol car arrived and two and a half hours after the first call reporting a murder was made. Lets round it up, she thinks, and the killer got three hours to escape.

Three whole hours, He could be anywhere now, even in another country.

She looks at the bodies for one last time as they are finally removed. Forensics will most probably confirm that the killer is the same guy who has been butchering dogs and homeless people in the last four years. But this time he killed someone with a girl with name and a job, and a guy who was a real prick, to be kind for those who passed away.

The girl was secretary in a multinational bank, well dressed, but in a conservative way. Soon they will call the Bank and most probably they will say she used to stay late, working extra time, really working, once her underwear was the type women only use when its absolutely sure no men will see them. In her finger a beautiful but simply engagement ring. She was still in her twenties; maybe she was making some overtime to afford a new house, or a little more elegant wedding party. She could be saving some money to a nicer wedding dress. Soon her fiancé will receive a call that his future wife was almost raped and then murdered, and he will blame himself for letting her left work so late.

The second victim was a well know son of a bitch who made a reputation stealing from pregnant girls, old ladies and kids. Last year he raped a fourteen year old girl, a mistake on his paperwork, a cop who punches him in the face in front of the press and a girl too scared and ashamed to go to court let him walk away. He was suspect of five other rapes in that area, always old ladies or teenagers. But ten rapists like him wouldn’t pay the life of one single girl who worked hard to have a less ordinary wedding.

The woman looked around. How come no one see something like that? Simple: the close curtains, turn the TV, pretend that no one is getting raped or murdered in their doorsteps.

-Fuck, this city is getting worst on daily basis.

A black man, very tall and thin come closer, and smile paternally:

-Hey partner, what’s the problem?

-Josh, the problem is that I’m getting tired of finding a new corpse on the sidewalk every five minutes and no one sees anything.

-Sammy, that’s how life in a big city is, everyone pretend to be blind and deaf, at least until someone stab them in the guts.

-It’s the same guy Josh. The same guy and we could have prevented this.

-I know, but was not our fault. Our bosses thought it was a nice social engineering, all those homeless murders, and they fucked with us until we had no choice but move along. Shit Sammy, if I recall you even got suspended over it.

-Yeah, but I got back. This girl won’t have the same luck. Now the guy now has twelve deaths on his body count.

-So what we do? Cry a little?

She looks at Josh and thanks for having such pragmatic and reliable detective as partner and friend.

-Can you guess what I’ve been doing on my free time?

-Oh! Can you guess what I have been doing on mine, Sammy?

She grins a little more.

-This guy never attacks in the same place, but he has a pattern: if you put all attacks together, animals included, this guy is making a spiral, coming from outskirts to downtown, slowly reducing his area of action, very slowly.

-Exactly Sammy, but the center of the spiral is the commercial and political center of the city, no one actually live there.

-But he could work there, Josh.

-Yes, rushy one, but thousands work there, actually I run some numbers and we got over six thousand people working there. And we don’t have anything on this guy. He could be anyone of them. I know you would, literally, investigate everyone on this list, but damn if any judge would give us a warrant on such basis. You know, from what we have in this exactly moment, we can’t do much, Sammy.

-Fair. Lets cross our fingers and hope his time forensics will do their job without the higher ups telling them to “lost” and “postpone” papers.

-And until we got it we can move accordingly with his pattern, and try to catch him up red handed.

-Or a little before. Too much red to my tastes…

Josh raises his head and smile like the man who know a secret.

-Oh, if you don’t like red, maybe you like what I just found for you, in black, white and our favorite, shades of gray.

*

I watch the sun rise; I am in peace with an overwhelming feeling of fulfillment and pure unspoiled joy. Soon they will found my first official victims; then they will try to cover my existence, but I am prepared: I put my plan in movement, and their actions will only work to make me more famous.

I am bounded to become immortal; no one can deny my fate.

I remove my uniform: black is a wonderful color. The little blood spatter is almost invisible under the faint street lights. Still, I will be cleaning it afterwards, not for fear of identification, but because I don’t want to remembered as a sloppy, untidy man.

I am now naked, my flesh exposed. I look at the mirror and for maybe the first time in my life I truly love the man I see. No shames, no despise, no second guessing or doubt, only power and beauty. My hands slide over my arms and chest, my finger tips feel the muscles and scars, my beauty marks from this day on.

I feel my hands and I remember the feeling of the knife diving on soft helpless flesh, and I realize how much I want to have this feeling again.

I look at the face of the man in the mirror.

-You are truly beautiful!

*

In an elegant medical clinic, a man dressed in immaculate keep his attention on his monitor. The fat fingers are adorned by two gold rings, one with a black opal on it, type fast. His round face, red, is covered in sweat. He only stops typing to scratch his white beard and clean his bald head with a expensive Egyptian silk handkerchief. His phone rings and he almost jump of his chair.

- Hello? Who is it?

-It’s Dover, doctor. I have news for you.

Anxious the man grab his phone with both hands.

-Spit it out!

-He started again, this time is for real. Two last night, no hobos or puppies.

-I was starting to wonder for how long he would train.

-This time no way the badges will pretend they saw nothing.

-Not of your concern. You know what to do next. Call me again tonight.

And the fat doctor turns off his phone. He lay back on his chair for a minute and look at the screen: A report with the picture of a young boy, no more than six years old.

-Project Hammer-Head. Test subject 0912 AKA “One Hit Killer-D”.

SKELETONS ON THE SHELVES

another tale for /x/, and tommorow  comes the second part of "YOU NEED A HERO".

SKELETONS ON THE SHELVES.

On my country, you don’t “buy” a place in the graveyard, you just “rent” it, put simple, your family has to pay maintenance fees every year, or your remains will be dig and put in an ossuary, the final resting place of those who don’t pay their bills. It’s a disturbing place, bags, black trash bags, filled with human bones tied with cheap strings, stacked on smelly, dirty shelves, crowded with rodents. The only thing left of their past identities as human beings are paper tags with names and numbers, but those often disappear, by lack of proper care, or by criminal action, once is common that those bones end in the black market of bones and teeth to med and dentist schools.

I had no option but to work on one of those ossuaries as a night watch, and I see many unsettling things, but made no mistake, all doing of the living.

The processes to dig off the coffins are disturbing: Even if you know no one will care with this action, I always felt uneasy just from watching it. They dig it off the ground with no respects, and literally crack the coffin open with crowbars. Many times all is left are bones, and clothes clued to them, due to the decomposition process. They literally peel those clothes of the bones, and grab anything the corpse may have, wedding rings, ear rings anything they can sell cheap later.

The coffins are sold back to mortuaries, to be re used, and the bones are tied like wood, and stuffed in garbage bags to be treated as garbage for the men who take them in the ossuary.

At the dead of night, I would keep watch on the only door to the ossuary, sit in an old office chair, with and old revolver and a flashlight. Different than most think, cemeteries aren’t abandoned at night: Many times families come to the wake that precedes the funeral. But there are nights when no one is around, most lights are off, and even the office people don’t leave the administration, and I would find myself  alone, surrounded by and absolute silence.

One night, a furious storm hit the graveyard. Soaked, I have no option but to open and enter the ossuary, something I had been always afraid to do. As the light went out, I closed the door behind me, and turned my flashlight on. Nothing but bone-bags and the dripping sound of the leaky roof.

As the hours went by, and the storm didn’t gave in, I felt tired, and sit on my chair, quiet and in the dark, when I started to hear faint voices. To scare to even move, I just keep silent and listened.

-… My weeding ring… where they put my weeding ring?...

- …Dear god, they pulled all my good teeth, it hurts, it hurts!

-… Where I am? I cant move… it’s so dark, please…

-… That’s not my grave… my family is rich… you can’t take me off my grave like this…

- …Help, someone help me… There are a rat nesting on my bones, please, I beg, someone take it off me!

-This can’t be right! It’s just a bad dream… I will wake soon, I cant be dead… I’m still too young to be dead!!

As the night went by, the voices become more in number, and slightly louder. I was completely paralyzed, when they start talking among themselves:

- They are a bunch of thieves… they stole even my shoes… what man steal a dead man shoes?

-Who cares? Isn’t like you still need them…

- This is hell? They just dug us off… I thought they would save us from the dark, but them they… they did all that horrible things… Why they did it to us?

-Hell? Hell is listening to you whinny voice… I wish I was back to my hole in the ground… I used to think the worst possible thing was to stay alone, buried seven feet under…But that was before I had to bear with you…

- I am so alone… I miss my family… God, have mercy of my soul, let me at least see my family again…

-Why do you bother about your family? They surely don’t bother about you…

At this point I was almost on the edge of my sanity, when in disbelief I spoke softly:

-It has to be a nightmare…

And they heard me.

-A nightmare? You wish pal!

-Who is this? I don’t know his voice?

-Probably someone fresh dug off the “final rest”…

- Oh god… I, I can’t believe…

-Buaaa, he can’t believe… God if I got a penny for every time I heard that one, I could buy my grave back, and maybe even my teeth!

They all laughed, some loudly and heartily, others forcing a laugh.

-I am not dead…I am the night watcher!

A minute of silence, followed by a torrent of angry and anxious voices.

-A guard? You bastard, why you let them take my teeth?

-Are you alive? Please, can you look for my daughter? I want to say her I miss her!

-Please, can you take off those rats from me? They are really annoying…

-Whoa, if you gonna go around doing favors, you cold please take me away from this loser who cry day and night, put me in the garbage, if I care, but I don’t want to be stuck with him another minute…

The voices were so loud and so many, it deafened me, I was too scared, so I ran out of the door like a mad man under the storm.

I burst inside the administration , returned my tools, and disappeared from there, under the storm. I never returned, not for pay check, for nothing.

Now I am sure of one thing: When I die, I’m go be cremated, not dirt shelves full of rats and dead people to me…

zombies 2/3

part 2.

It’s freak me out, you know, is not the fact I may be the last guy left (not that I am some kind of Chuck Norris, what I am not), is the fact they actually conquered mankind.

Seriously, how come? They bite and are infectious, but damn, every single day I wake up and I see one of them trying to get out of his(I suppose) car by the left door. He bangs, growls, push, all it for what, one week? And he can’t leave the car. Even with the right door wide open.

Where are the special forces? Where are the SWAT teams? Shit, give the girls-scouts a supply of guns and ammo and they would wipe out those monsters in no time.

And still, here I am, alone, in a four million people city, surrounded by zombies. I hope it’s a hiccup, a fluke, a little “ops - the nuke slipped off my hand”, you know, this city. I mean, some one made the wrong turn and the army lost himself in the woods or something, I really do. Because I don’t want to believe that the entire world is already dead, or like me, waiting to die.

It’s horrible to think that my city has at least two nice museums, several excellent theaters, one 100 years old library, and I never, EVER visit those. I feel like an guy who had free tickets to ride in every single ride in the most kick-ass theme park of the world, and I choose to stay home watching TV shows about people who actually do things an go places. Now I have this ominous feeling of lost.

Put a man and a woman together, and they will keep the SPECIES going, but and the achievements of our society? I’m not talking about TV, radio, internet, cell phones and pizza. I’m talking about human rights, democracy, art…

Those things are lost now. I can see people around dressed and acting like cave-men in no time, I see those cave men finding books and using them to set fires to roast squirrels. So even if we aren’t all eat to the bones, what is ACTUALLY happening on the streets we will be back at square one.

ZOMBIES -part 01 0f 3.

Five days since the last time I saw someone alive.

Only the dead keep me company. Some of them move fast, others slow, not like the movie, that’s for sure. Some of them could easily pass as living, if you disregard the guts and gore.

One of them was my neighbor, and old man who lived alone and always took great care of his garden. I saw him got bit in the hand, and barricade himself his house. The next day, there he was, gardening, or something like it.

But wasn’t really him anymore. Was like a child pretending to be something, not all clumsy, but oblivious of obvious things, like turning on the water hose before watering the prize-winning red roses, or not paying much attention to the dismembered carcass of a child in your doorsteps.

When things become out of control, with zombies everywhere, not only on the news, most people hit the road, and at the time I decided to stay, not to defend my home from looters (would be a relieve to see one in this dead neighborhood), but because I knew roads would be blocked, one way or the another. I may sound like a son of a bitch, but the first thing I did after my neighbors got their cars and hit the road was break in their houses and pick all food and bottle water I could put my hands on, o I can stay here nearly for weeks.

But still, I think it won’t be enough.

First, they aren’t rotting, not normally: they have this strange chemical smell, like some rotten dead animal kept in formol, but forgotten under a 35ºC scorching sun.

And let me say, it’s probably poisonous, not only for the headaches it gave me, but because there is no rats, no flies, no nothing even close to them. They avoid the zombies, what is a big surprise, considering some of them just lay down pretending to be dead and don’t move unless they sense some living person around them.

This is other fucked up thing. They can’t see well. Damn, I can dance on my roof top, and they wont see me. They can only see eight to ten meters ahead, tops. Also they can’t hear or don’t bother with sounds, at all. I could play Metallica everyday and they wont give a damn.

But they always know when some one alive is around.

First, they stop moving, and it is a chain reaction: If one give “the stop”, soon every one will near will stop to. Then they get silent, not even the slightest sound. Then it start to get bad, the zombie closest to the living person will walk straight to him, and the others will follow. It’s like they try to confirm it before giving the signal to attack. If they see you, they start screaming, then hells break loose. When there more living than dead, I saw people escaping it, or the mass of undead splitting up on several targets, but the last time I see them attacking, there was nothing left of the poor guy, except a pool of blood.

I’m not sure, but I think it have a five meter range, maybe less, this “sixth sense”, and I’m sure it works fine in the dark: I hear them screaming at night from time to time.

EXAM.

On /x/ where i spent most of my days, i found a thread of  making stories randomly about pictures we found on google images, mine, choosen randomly by mighty google, was about breast cancer.Wow, it was heavy, it have impact on me for people i know. i could ditch it and find something lighter to write about, but damn, i decided to write a tale about it, and i hope it help people, or at least distract them a little.

EXAM.

A sign in the door and a small but tidy clinic: that was Dr Margot’s oncology clinic; every day people would cross those doors with the weight of the word “cancer” over their shoulders. Some would leave relieved, others don’t.

Dr Margot, or Meg, didn’t choose this line of work for the pay or the thrill; it was her way to compensate the world for saving her mother of a tumor which everyone said was incurable. It made of her an excellent oncologist and human being, who would fight for patients even after they gave up of themselves. Her struggle saved many lives, but always had those who couldn’t be saved.

One of those patients was Annabelle Davidson, a young girl, who had a vicious breast cancer, that even with all Dr Meg dedication, died in a rainy day.

That death had great impact over Dr. Meg, once she and Annabelle, both strong women, shared many similarities and end becoming great friends. To Dr Meg, losing Annabelle, or Ann was like to lose a dear sister.

Meg was devastated and decided to take a break of everything, family, friends and work, and she clearly needed that break, once her vision was getting blurred more and more at work, and she start having horrible nightmares.

In those nightmares she would see her best friend Ann be devoured by a deformed tumor, who growth bigger than both women. Ann would cry for help, but something was holding Meg away from her. She would wake up washed in sweat and cry for hours.

It was when strange things started to happen to Meg:

Shadows would appear and disappear in front of her any time of the day or the night. She would wake up cold and afraid, and even heard strange noises.

One day, she was washing her face in the morning, and she clearly saw in the mirror a shadow moving behind her.

-Is anyone there? Please…?

 But no one replied. She would search the house and find nothing, what only made her more and more nervous. At night she would wake up and see shadows dancing around her, sometimes just illusions, others very real. Her friends tried convince her to see a psychologist but she refused:

-All I need is to go back to work.

And so she did, and for a while it worked fine. No shadows or nightmares, just work, until a day when she saw someone dressing white entering her office. Used to see her assistant going in or out from her office all day long, she didn’t find it conspicuous at all.

-Helen! Leave the paper work and come have some coffee is fresh!

When her assistant appeared behind her, from the reception.

Meg frozen instantly and holding her assistant Helen hand tightly, rushed into the office, to find nothing.

It was only the beginning: soon the strange events started again, and stronger than before. At the clinic or home, shadows and strange noised would haunt Meg, and soon Helen too.

It was when the haunting becomes scarier and more powerful. One day Helen arrived at the clinic earlier and found all patient files on the floor, not simple trashed around, but in perfect order. Unnecessary to say that Helen shut the door and waited for Meg, who almost fainted, was too much to bear.

But it wasn’t all, over Meg’s desk four files, Esteban, Mary; Xavier, Janice; Anderson, Victor and the file who hurt Meg the most, Davidson, Annabelle.

After that day meg closed the clinic and seek help from priests and mediums, even lost some money on the process, to have no return. It kept happening until one night she was looking at Annabelle pictures in bed, and simply slept. In her dream she saw Annabelle, beautiful and dressed in white, she tried to say something, but Meg couldn’t hear anything. Suddenly, a sharp pain on her chest, he look down and her body become a horrible mass of flesh, crushing her under it. She tries to escape, but all fail, until a hand appear and rescue her: Ann.

-Exam.

-Ann? I don’t understand!

-Exam Meg. Make the exam.

When she woke up, she had an ominous feeling, it was like something had took over control of her hands, she made a self exam searching for breast cancer.

Eight weeks later, Meg return to her clinic, where several friends, patients, colleagues and everyone she knew give her a huge “welcome home” party, after all, the clinic was the true home for Meg. There was many tears, but happy tears, because Meg had survived an very serious breast cancer, but now was back, good as new. Some scars, but she didn’t bother, she knew that as long she was alive, things would end well.

After the self exam, that literally saved Meg’s life, the haunting stopped, and Meg and Helen would smile every time someone asked about the “haunting on Meg’s Clinic” (Helen become a pretty good storyteller), and Meg would close her eyes and silently thank for her good friend, who had a pretty hard work to make a silly oncologist remember that she should take regular breast cancer exams.

-Ann, thank you so much!

The author of this work of fiction (me) would like to remember you, eventual reader, that cancer can be cured with early diagnosis. So make regular exams ( yes, I am a boring boy-scout, now go make your exams!).

http://www.breastcancer.org/

http://www.cancer.org/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cancer

http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cancro_(tumor)

http://www.inca.gov.br/conteudo_view.asp?ID=336

I’m not related to those sites, but is always good to know more.

CHANCES

Well, decided to make another series, this a cyberpunk one, to be monthly, so in the future i will take better care of the chapters, please enjoy

0001#

CHANCES.

The sound pumped hard, she could feel the beats moving through her little but athletic body, her enhanced second body.

In life you only got to live three times, and that was her second shot. She smiled at the idea, after all she loved risks.

She looked at the crowd: thousands of ravers, a storm of lights and sounds, taking the streets like a flood.

Every time you die, you come back with a special ability. Hers was extremely useful: She fixated her eyes on the roof of the building on the other size of the street. Her shadow disappeared from the ground, like water down a drain, and reappeared on the roof top of the building across the street. Suddenly, her body become semi-transparent and vanished, only to reappear on the spot where her shadow had emerged.

As she felt her weight returning, she draws her pistol, a suppressed plastic 9mm. She looks at her wrist watch, and a big man open the door to the roof. Just in time, good smokers! Two in his heart: dead but salvageable, unless it was his third. She feels like checking on his rebirth marks, but she is on a rush now.

She is fast and silent as a cat, another enhancement she bought. Different from abilities, you could buy as many enhancements as your bank account allowed.

She gets to a door. A camera watches it, moving slowly from left to right. She focuses on the blind spot under the camera, and suddenly she reappear there. Close range, good visibility, easy transition, but still, too tiring. She put a jammer on the cam.

She waits until someone comes to check it, but no one comes. Shit security hmm? The lock is easy to open. Inside all is dark, she literally crawl inside, carefully. She soon hears the moaning, and it’s explained why no one went check the cam. The guy on the job was getting a job, a blowjob. The girl was one of the “entertainers” from the “club” down stairs. Oh well why complain about good luck? With cold-blood she shot the man in the chest. The girl doesn’t have time to realize what is going on, before she got a couple rounds in her chest as well.

Well she was out of ammo, already. No just kidding, she just exchanged the mag and turn of the CCTV.

Time to loot! Not the bodies, ew. The good stuff.

She opens a door and enters a fully automated lab. Like a mini car assembly line, with many robots doing robots things, except they were producing ecstasy and the new fashion, Vertigo.

Meh… to much work to sell ravers candy, not her stuff anyway.

She cross the room, and find an office, two men inside, one sleeping, in his hand a cheap ass .38 and the other a bean-counter, fully focused in counting money.

Delicious money, come to mommy!

She shot the bean counter in the back, flawless, and turn to shoot the guard, a fat old guy, strange choice of a guard to a group of dealers who work with ravers.

Oh well, nothing personal, well, its personal but not against you, it’s more against the establishment.

She pop twice, and the bullets land where they were supposed to, but they bounce of it, like the guy was made of solid steel. Oh boy, not bullet proof ability…

The man wake up, look at the corpse, then at the girl and try to shot her.

The first shot lands on his own foot, the other two way off target, well, to be honest a 1.65m girl isn’t much of a target.

She back-flips with cat-like grace and lightning speed, the guard simply go through the wall like it was made of wet toilet paper.

-FREEZE!

And he shot his last three rounds, missing completely.

-Hey old man, when you say “freeze” you is supposed to wait before shooting, even with this lame aim of yours!

-You… You killed him!

He punch an steel table were lay one of the man-portable automated drug factories, destroying it and making it go through the floor. The girl jump again, not away from him, but over him, into the accountability.

-Easy grandpa! You gonna trash this place like that!

She laughs deliciously, like an angel and sit beside the dead “bean-counter”, she pull the shirt away of his neck. No marks there.

-Hey grandpa, why so mad? This guy still has two lives to spare…no need to be all touchy about it!

-Kids…you wont realize how valuable a life is until you run out of them!

He throw away the useless revolver, put his hands together, like if he was a Buda, and let go a loud “OHM”

She barely have time to jump before a shock wave, like a gust of wind blow a man-size hole on the sound proof wall.

-Shit… two abilities? So you are in the end of your rope isn’t?

She fires against his eyes, doing nothing more than blind him for a second. With uncanny agility she slid between his legs and run for the door.

-YOU…OHM!!!

The shock wave almost caught her. This time opened another hole on the floor. The deafening music covers everything.

-Fuck, why he had to have two abilities like that? It’s unfair…

She measure the distance to the door and to the next building.

Suddenly the wall over her head explodes as another shock wave burst thought it. Now she have no were to hide. The windows are broken.

-So little girl, surrender?!

She looks to the crowd, forty floors below, then look to him firmly.

-Fuck you.

And jump.

The man doesn’t believe and run to see it. But she disappeared. Above his head, a figure materializes. The girl uses all her weight to push him down. The man lost his balance and almost fall, hanging from the window for no more than one hand.

She lands inside again.

-Please girl! Help me!!! I’m sliding!

-Aren’t you bullet proof? Forty floors won’t kill you.

-it didn’t work…like that!!

No one with half a brain goes around telling the secrets of his or her abilities, after all every single ability has a fatal flaw or a weakness.

-Not convinced. Good trip down.

-I’m serious!!! Look, my ability only cover 30% of my body each time. If I fall it won’t save my life!

-Too bad. Not my problem. Try landing on your feet.

The girl turns his back and walk away.

The man is now alone. He didn’t want to end like that, he didn’t want the job. He was just a loser trying to earn a living, in a world who doesn’t forgive losers. Tear roll of his eyes as he feel his fingers slipping… that was his last life.

He closes his eyes, wishing that his ability don’t make his suffering worst than it had to be.

But a hand grasps his wrist, holding it tightly

-FUUCK! GODDAMN YOU! Jesus, if you gonna fall from windows at least lose some weight!!!!

-Girl…Girl!!!

-Yeah, yeah, I’m fucking Madre Teresa of the old fat guys… Now climb it because I’m not that strong!

The man climbs back, grateful. He looks at her, her shoulder is visibly dislocated, and yet, she holds up, enduring a pain that would make grown men cry.

She looks at his eyes and asks:

-So what we do now?

The man sit, confuse, he is lost, she thinks, and she is out of juice for her ability, no way she can transit with that shoulder after three previous transitions.

But before they could even think, a group of armed men, or better, boys, enter the room, confused, angry, and armed with automatic weapons.

-Fuck, yo James, you lazy fuck, WTF yo doing? Damn our stuff is all destroyed!

-Hey that chick, isn’t the one Velvet want to see dead, dead for good?

-Yeah…Fuck James, at least once in your fucked life you did something right.

James step back as the boys aim her guns at her. James turn his eyes away, but she don’t feel angry. She feels pity. She walked a couple miles on shoes that would fit James right now, and she knows he won’t forgive himself, ever; she never forgave herself.

She looks at the boys, flip her middle finger with the good arm she got left and spoke, valiantly.

-Hey bitches, try not missing a sitting duck, fuckers!

…

TO BE CONTINUED.

'you need a hero" is the first chapter of a weekly series i will keep from now on

000#

YOU NEED A HERO.

Every man has a dream of becoming a legend, immortal, remembered forever for his actions and his accomplishments. It’s an egoistic goal, but at least is an honest one, some people even try to hide such goal behind excuses, justifications, but that is pointless.

I will achieve this goal with truth and honesty, and I will be remembered for ages to come.

The night fall over this city, where I born and lived in anonymity until now, a life full of disappointment and frustration: The life of a stallion who cant run, a eagle that cannot fly, despite all the wonders I could see, I was paralyzed by fear and my own mediocrity.

But tonight I will spread my wings and conquer the skies, tomorrow the world will know what I am, what I will be, through hard work, dedication and courage.

I look down and see cars and people, so tiny. I was tiny before, but not anymore.

At first I thought about using a mask of some kind, to be easily recognized after my actions, but that would be dishonest, it would be merely a false modesty.

I will go with this face I born with.

I check my uniform, an act of vanity, I confess; it’s black, functional, and has everything I need.

I pull the hood over my head, not to hide my face, but because I love how it look at night, so powerful.

The streets are now mine. I know many dreamed to live what I live now, and I am sure, after they see my actions, they will rise too.

Took me only one hour to see my opportunity, a man attacking a girl, from a distance I hear her calls for help, and I see him ripping of her clothes.

We are in the middle of the city, and in the buildings hundreds, no, thousands may hear her screaming but they do nothing. I would do nothing, but that was before.

I dash on him, my elbow hit hard on his kidney. He falls on the ground, but the battle isn’t over, he pulls a gun to me.

I feel no fear, just a feeling of freedom, as I kick it away from his hand.

I smile and lay punch after punch on his face, until he falls unconscious.

The girl cry and thank me for saving her, I remove my hood and smile with true satisfaction…

 As I feel my knife sliding offs its sheath.

She looks confused as I stab her in the heart, with a perfect movement. Oh all the training on dogs and homeless people really was worth the effort.

She falls on the ground dead, one hit kill. It’s so beautiful I feel like crying, but I can’t, my work isn’t done yet! The filthy rapist is awake and saw everything, excellent! I would feel horrible to kill him unconscious.

He tries to run, but is too late: My blade go deep on the back of his neck, I go until the hilt touch his skin. His death is slower, but not more painful, once I carefully severed his spine, just below skull. For those who know blades, this is an extremely difficult task to do, even in a still target, but mine was moving. And once again, I was perfect.

One hit kill.

Tonight I reborn, to be forever remembered as the One Hit Kill “maniac”, and my deeds and skills will soon be know for all! Soon I will be a legend.

I clean my blade carefully in his clothes, before leaving. The night is still young and I have much work to do, after all, fame and glory are hard to get, in this crazy world.

To be continued.

THE HOUSE

THE HOUSE.

People tell tales about haunted places, and such places are always dark and sinister, like an warning to any eventual trespasser that something evil lurk in It’s dark corridors.

But maybe its just how things reflect the feelings of what wanders in shadows, sadness, regret, anger, all of them together, covering the haunted place like mold.

That house, today abandoned, is one of those places.

Dark, humid, cold, even in summer… And no one live there.

Some people tried, but they were too afraid to stay, “something” they would say “is not right in that house”.

The young, the brave and bold youth, always challenge the house. It’s like a initiation, after all everyone who enter that house left it a little bit different.

Tonight they gather inside it, inside the house, they talk laud, laugh and giggle, they mock it, they challenge the house, and when only silence responds, they think they are victorious in a battle against something they never saw, and even doubt that exists.

Soon they are too drunk, and they feel sleepy…it’s so late…

They get into the haze that lay between dream and reality, and finally the time arrive.

Now shadows crawl off the walls, through the floor, and over the silly children, hands cold and invisible, pulling one after the other to a different place of the house. They scream, they try to scape, but now all doors to the outside are locked, all windows shut.

One after the other, they cry like children as those invisible hands molest, punch, twist.

They are now separated, split inside that house, alone in the shadows, victims of sick demons who pray on them, violating bodies and minds.

But here, no one die, no, they goal is that they live with that.

In the next morning they get up, they cry, they are scared, they are confused and never will be the same again, now they are tainted, damaged, broken.

And the house, it will wait for the next, after all, always will be a next one.