MicroHorror

I sat in my car this morning on Tenth Street and watched it happen. That is all I can say. I watched as our town’s war veteran, Harold, bought his ticket under the hot July sun.

As a kid I remember teasing the old guy because he always wore his shirt unbuttoned, showing his naked chest no matter what temperature it was outside: cold, warm, hot, freezing, etc. I’d always ask my mom why Harold never wore a coat. She’d tell me that he had an awful accident while he was in the military. She never really elaborated about it, though.

When I grew up, I found out that twenty-some-odd years ago he had been involved in some kind of chemical blast while he was in a war that wiped out most of his platoon. Only he and a few others survived.

Someone–I can’t remember who–told me that poor Harold was asleep when it hit, and it slaughtered many of the soldiers who were close by. Their flesh had fallen away from their bones like cooked chicken.

One of the soldiers had been a good friend of his. Poor Harold had worn his buddy’s blood and bits of his flesh and parts of his brain for over a day, until he found swamp water to wash it all off.

I really think that it messed him after that–in more ways than one. Because he would always walk around in a daze, not speaking to anyone. He’d sometimes walk onto the abandoned lot down on the corner of Frederick Street and stand there, staring at the sky for no reason, with a weird look painted across his face.

If I ever passed him on the sidewalk he’d look like a zombie, or even a ghost, as pale as he was.

See, I watched Harold buy his ticket right after the red and white crossbars came down. We all sat in our cars and heard the train coming and watched as Harold came out of nowhere and walked right out onto the tracks.

For the first time in my life, I saw him smile from ear to ear. He waved at us.

Then he turned, faced the oncoming train moving at a high speed, succumbed his body to temptation, and allowed it to embed his flesh and blood all over the tracks.

The train slammed on its brakes, sparks flew.

People in their vehicles screamed and got out. I did the same. Some were pointing, holding their hands over their mouths as the train shrieked to a stop.

And then things changed.

Suddenly, I heard a woman shouting something. I looked over at her as she pointed at something.

When I saw it, goose bumps infested the surface of my skin.

The bits and pieces that were left of Harold started forming together, becoming a black mass. Quickly it moved across the ground like the shadow of a dark cloud blocking out the sun. It moved fast, split apart, and formed into small spider-like creatures.

They swarmed the whole town, killing many, crawling down their throats, and eating them from the inside out.

I had never heard so much blood-curdling screams in all my life. And I do not want to ever hear that again.

Now, as I sit holed up in a walk-in freezer with the light on the wall still blazing, I can hear them scurrying around out there on the floor and on the door, pecking their little feet, wanting to be let in so they can finally eat the last person alive in town.

I should be okay, though, at least for a while, because there is food everywhere in here and the air isn’t cold anymore because I found a way to clog up the vent above my head.

I should be safe, now. I hope.

Jesus! The light just went off and I just heard something above my hea–

• Copyright: © 2008 Brick Marlin

The inside of the hull of the spacecraft was dark. Except for the beam of Gabriel’s flashlight portraying the horror that made the air ripe. The stench was rotten, almost as bad as the aroma of decaying human flesh.

And it caused Gabriel’s stomach to churn. Bringing a nauseous feeling from the pit of his stomach, all the way up into the walls of his throat. Also making his eyes water.

Before leaving Earth his job was to locate and find Lucy, the last astronaut that was sent to investigate this unknown planet beyond Pluto. Because once her ship hit the atmosphere, the transmission was cut off. Control had decided that she had most likely perished in a crash.

But what Gabriel now found was something much worse. Something much worse than finding raw bones that were once covered with Lucy’s flesh.

In the cockpit of the craft, there she sat. Still alive after a year. And the blue grass that surrounded the ship outside had made its way in.

Lucy’s eyes found Gabriel’s. Blinked. Her chest rose and fell, sounding raspy, as if she was gargling glass. Bright blue veins rose up on the pale skin of her face, throat, and hands in some morbid web-like form.

Then through blue-colored lips she said, “Run! Rrrrunnn!”

The words hung in the air, and Gabriel froze in place. Could not move. A cold hand had gripped his spine.

Suddenly her body jerked, arching off of the seat in some spine-cracking form. Strands of blue grass had attached themselves to the seat, as well as in her flesh. Rooted inside. They stretched, and held onto the prisoner.

A gruesome sound came as Lucy’s chest ripped wide open, opening up a gaping hole in her body, allowing bright blue blood to flow out. Painting the cabin’s floor a shade of blue.

Finally shaking the cold grip off of his spine, Gabriel ran out of the door, almost slipped on the wetness of the blue grass, balanced himself, and took off toward the transport that sat not but forty feet away.

Halfway there, he felt pinpricks on the bottom of his feet. The grass had sliced through the soles of his boots, into his skin, and he felt as if he was running across a bed of nails. Making the insides of his boots wet and slippery from his wounds.

As painful as it was, he did not stop.

But once his right foot hit dirt he slipped again, and this time, fell. Trying to get back up, he felt something attach onto his leg.

The blue grass had grown like ivy, wrapping itself tight, holding onto him. Soon it crawled up to his waist and pulled backwards. Back into the blue.

Ready for another body to seed.

Ready for another carcass to feed on.

In a small valley on a distant planet, Gabriel’s screams reverberated off of the hills while his body soaked the ground red.

Only to soon turn blue, upon the harvest.

• Copyright: © 2008 Brick Marlin

Kaleb ran under the hot sun. Already shedding his coat and tie, he was sweating.

Surrounding him was a huge city. Buildings after buildings. Streets after streets. Vehicles sat quietly, while corpses sat in the seats with their mouths ajar. The passengers had been burned alive from a holocaust that had scorched the city, as if an incinerator had roasted their living flesh that had once wrapped around their bones.

All of what was left here now was death.

Except, of course, Kaleb’s little hunters.

Off in the distance screams came, rising and falling.

Kaleb’s legs ached.

His back protested.

But he had to run to stay alive. Live to see if he could remember something. Anything.

That was another part of the terror: Where was he? How did he get here?

Something–or someone–had blocked out his memory of arriving here. He couldn’t remember a damn thing except walking down a sidewalk, through double glass doors, and saying “Good morning” to…

Who? Who did he speak to?

No memory came back, merely slipping down into the caverns of his skull where his brain’s fingers couldn’t reach.

Sprinting down another street held more vehicles with passengers. One in particular had two, plus the skeletal remains of a child still being cradled and held close to the breast. Both had their mouths ajar.

Kaleb’s lungs swelled, feeling as if they would burst out of his chest. His throat was raw. The run was wearing him out, but he knew that he had to press on if he wanted to find a way out of this place. A gutted body lying face down, two streets back, wearing the same business attire as Kaleb reminded him of that.

Out of nowhere, he was knocked down; his bones beneath his flesh felt the impact.

The attack came from only a child, but the fact that he wore a headdress and the skin of a dog over his naked body was terrifying. Unsettling.

Two holes, torn away above the snout where the dog’s eyes had originally sat, now held the child’s deep blues.

The child raised his head, screamed, and pointed.

Getting up, Kaleb tried to get away. But halted.

Another had appeared. This one was also draped in a dog skin, even with crusted blood on the fur.

That child raised his head and screamed; the skin on his throat contracted.

Within seconds, four had circled around Kaleb.

Suddenly one of the dog-children attacked, bringing him down on the pavement; while the others followed the lead and piled up on the prey. The stench of urine and feces rose to Kaleb’s nostrils, making his stomach churn.

His first attacker sat on top of him face to face, opened his mouth wide, and revealed razor-sharp fangs that grew from his gums.

Somehow Kaleb managed to push him off, fight off the others, as the outcome soon ended in death for his hunters.

Now, he was back up.

Almost escaping, almost getting away, he was trampled by a female dog-child that came out of nowhere. Even being knocked back down, he was able to rise back up and make a connection into the little jaw with his fist–feeling the snap of bone, just as the little hunter ran towards him.

Again, he was up and running.

And heard more screams.

Finally, he saw hope: a ladder that ran straight up into a hole cut out in the air.

But it held darkness inside.

That was all he could see.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

And he didn’t know where it would take him. But he knew that he couldn’t just stand here and decide whether to take the chance and climb up, or become a large feast for the dog-children.

So he quickly climbed up, and God only knew where it took him.

• Copyright: © 2008 Brick Marlin

“Trick or treat!”

“Wow! Look what we have here! A scary werewolf,” the nice old man said, holding the front screen door open.

“Trick or treat!” cried William from behind the mask.

“Okay. Here you go,” the man said, dropping the candy into the bag.

With a blink of an eye William grabbed his wrist with one hand, while the other plunged the knife deep into his gut, ripping it wide open, spilling the man’s organs into the bag.

“Trick or treat, now my family’s gonna have something good to eat!” William said, walking home to his cannibalistic family.

• Copyright: © 2007 Brick Marlin

Moonlight hit the ground, painting its silver glow on the grass, the trees, the lake, the bridge, and the couple sitting on the bench together holding each other close. A cool autumn breeze blew the fallen leaves off the ground, fluttering them into the air.

The two souls on the bench were in love.

Forever and ever.

“I love you,” the man said.

“And I love you,” the woman responded.

Their memories came back to them on the first day of their marriage: a small wedding in the church; the passionate honeymoon; the first day in their new life together; their first child–a daughter, a blessing from God; their first home painted white with red shutters, a red door, a huge porch, and a bed of flowers underneath the living room window.

Life had been good to them.

Even when the woman had a miscarriage, they had tried over and over until God blessed them with a son. Now, they had two children to carry on their family name. Their family’s bloodline.

Forever and ever.

So many wonderful years.

The man held the woman close, softly kissing her on the temple. Then her forehead. Her cheek. Her lips.

She kissed him back.

Love radiated off of their bodies.

The night passed, bringing the first signs of the morning. Birds chirped. Squirrels ran about, digging up buried nuts. The sun blazed and started to show itself. The world was waking up.

“We had best be going, Margret,” the man said.

“True, Charles. Very true,” the woman replied.

The sky began to lighten up, becoming a pleasant shade of blue. Clouds drifted around a bright, rising sun.

The couple rose up and walked straight into the lake where they had perished not so long ago. They had lost control of their car and run off of the bridge into the water, sinking straight to the bottom. Frantically, they tried to open their windows, but couldn’t. Water came rushing inside, filling the space to the brim instantly. The vehicle became a metal tomb. A metal casket.

They held hands as their bloated, swollen bodies submerged under the water until it eventually covered their heads. Footprints trailed behind in the dirt leaving pieces of decayed, decomposed flesh. Even their long but not forgotten presence would remain on the river bank.

Forever and ever.

• Copyright: © 2007 Brick Marlin

No sooner had Balin left the gates, left from within the prison walls, than the sirens screamed of his escape and reverberated off of the huge field that lay out before him. Tall, wet, grass flourished the land. Woods lay close in the distance.

Finally free…

Balin ran as fast as his legs would carry him. His pants and shoes became soaked. Storms had hammered the area the night before, leaving puddles everywhere.

The sirens wailed, vibrating Balin’s skeletal frame. It was like a lighthouse blazing its watchful eye around and around across the ocean for lost ships. And if it had been a death-ray, Balin would’ve been burnt beyond recognition. The smell of scorched flesh would linger in the air.

Right before he made it into the woods, right before he took his very first step inside, he heard the first of the howls blend in with the wretched sound of the siren.

The Hounds had now been unleashed.

Time was of the essence.

Huge, tall trees stuck out of the ground, nearly touching the skyline. Birds chirped, flying overhead, and peered down at the show.

If I only had their wings I could join them and hide from the oncoming Hounds; perhaps even fly high into the clouds and arrive safely with Gili, my beloved…

Leaping over rocks, running around bushes, and dodging around trees, Balin saw the exit. The end of the woods. It exposed yet another field full of tall, wet grass.

Behind him, the footfalls of his pursuers hit the ground, pounding the soil.

Bark from the trees was shaved clean off, leaving fresh wounds. Bushes were mowed over. Rocks were crushed. The soil was ripped open like tearing away flesh.

Death was only a whisper away.

Balin tried to hurry his pace as fatigue washed over him, settling inside his skin. Inside his muscles and tendons. Around his bones.

The howling continued.

The pursuit did not let up.

If failure of his escape was in the midst, terrifying images played over and over in his head: the feel of the razor-sharp claws sinking into his back and bringing his body straight to the ground; the back of his neck being torn open, exposing blood and bone; and his spine ripped solely away from his frame.

But he did not want that to happen.

He wanted Gili. He wanted to see her blue eyes. Feel her soft brown hair. Kiss her tender lips.

Finally, he entered the field as excitement coursed his veins. Relief took hold of his emotions.

Happiness followed.

There, in the distance, was his spaceship. The Authorities had not even destroyed or dismantled it. And it only had room for one astronaut. One survivor. One escapee. One Balin.

He sprinted towards the craft. His side flared, telling him to stop this punishment. Stop this abuse. But now, he would not. Could not.

I’m on my way, babe!

How long had he been imprisoned? Months? Days? Hours? God only knew.

Slipping inside the craft he closed the door, hit the controls as they lit up in numerous colors, and heard the hum of the engines roar to life.

Right before he lifted off of the ground, he witnessed the first of the five robotic hounds emerge out of the woods. Bright yellow eyes, a metal jaw lined with razor sharp teeth, nostrils steaming, blades for claws, and a bulky metal frame made up the full profile. The others followed suit as the sun reflected off their shells.

Balin had beaten the machines, knowing of no other that had.

The ship launched high into the sky, soon becoming nothing but a dot under the two bright suns and the light green skies.

The Hounds could only stare at defeat to the human that had eluded his capture.

• Copyright: © 2007 Brick Marlin