MicroHorror

“You know those old zombie movies? Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, that kind of stuff? Most of them were actually allegories about consumerism and bourgeois sensibilities. The zombies were supposed to represent the mindless greed of Middle America.”

“Seriously? I thought they were just supposed to be B-movie crap for a cheap thrill.”

“Well, some of them were. Plenty of people started making crappy zombie flicks when they saw that they could make a quick buck off of them. Most of those were just about violence, gore, and spraying gallons of blood everywhere. The ones that people remembered ten years later all had some sort of deeper message though. It’s ironic, really.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, everyone always pointed to the ‘deeper meaning’ when it came to zombie films and claimed that it was the messages about consumerism, classism and greed that really defined the walking undead. When it came right down to it, though, real-world zombies turned out to be completely about violence, gore, and spraying gallons of blood everywhere.”

Once upon a time, near the edge of a very old forest, sat a tiny village. On the edge of that village, very near the old forest, was a run-down house. In that house there lived a family. They were Mr. and Mrs. McCrowley, and their son William. There had once also been another member of the McCrowley family living in the run-down house on the edge of the tiny village–a baby named Angela.

The year that William turned thirteen, the baby had been killed near the edge of the old forest. William had been watching her, and according to him, he had hit his head on a branch while running, blacked out, and when he woke up a few minutes later she was dead. A policeman from the tiny village investigated, and decided that an animal had attacked poor little Angela while her brother was unconscious.

There was a funeral with a tiny coffin, and everyone in the town tried to move on with their lives the best they could.

William never forgot about his sister’s death, though. He started going into the forest every day and setting traps. Sometimes he’d catch an animal in one of his traps, and he’d kill it purely for spite, remembering how he’d found Angela that day, torn and bloody. Soon, he began torturing the animals before he killed them. He never felt any better about his sister’s death, but every day he still went into the darkness of the old forest to reset his traps and kill any animals in them, from wolves and foxes down to tiny squirrels.

This went on for several years, until the day William turned eighteen. On that day, as usual, he left his family’s run-down house in the tiny village next to the very old forest, heading to the first of his traps. When he arrived at his first one, he got a shock. A little girl, about six years old, was sitting next to his trap. “William,” she said, “this has to stop. Until today you’ve been sheltered because you were still a boy. If you continue, though, you will be punished; you are now a man.”

William was shocked at seeing this little girl next to his trap. Before he could reply, though, she turned and fled into the trees.

Unsure what to do, William sat stunned for a few minutes. Then he decided that he must have imagined the whole thing. So, William decided to move onto his next trap. When he got there, though, the little girl was waiting for him.

“Why didn’t you turn back, William?” she said.

“Who are you?” was William’s reply.

“For years now, you’ve been coming into this forest every day and committing acts of evil. You’ve been seeking revenge for my death, and it has warped you. The forest had no recourse while you were still a child, but it sent me to you now that you’ve grown.”

“Angela?” said William, stunned.

“Even after my warning, you continue, so there is nothing I can do to protect you. The forest has decided to show you the truth before you die.”

The forest around William shimmered, and William was watching himself as a child, the day Angela was killed. He looked on as he hit his head on a tree branch and fell over. Then, his child self sprang up and howled like a wild thing. The boy-thing ran to the baby playing in the grass and grabbed her. Then, he began to tear at the baby with teeth and nails until she was dead. Instantly the boy-thing toppled over, unconscious. When he woke, he saw the baby and immediately gathered her up into his arms and ran to the rundown house.

Back in the forest now, William sobbed and sobbed, and the animals of the forest closed in around him.

“Hold steady at 5.7 kilowatts.”

The tiny sphere in the center of the firing chamber was held up by monstrously strong magnetic fields, allowing six green lasers to hit it simultaneously at precise points. The sphere was made of what the scientists in the lab referred to as an “exotic metal,” for simplicity’s sake.

“All readings check out. Increase the output to 5.85 kilowatts.”

The metal that actually composed the sphere was anything but exotic– it was just extremely pure silver–but the arrangement of the atoms in the sphere was so specific and complex that it had taken the team of scientists six years to build this one minuscule specimen.

“Now approaching optimal resonance conditions. Increase the output to 6 kilowatts.”

As the six lasers bathed the sphere in a green the color of pure envy, a new light began to expand outward from the center of the firing chamber, from the heart of the sphere. It had been calculated beforehand that 6 kilowatts was the optimal energy output to cause the sphere to resonate to maximum effect. Now, the scientists’ six years of work had come to fruition as the light emanating from the sphere expanded and contorted into a halo shape slightly taller than a man. Through the center, a landscape the color of fresh blood was clearly visible.

“We have achieved portal formation. Begin shutdown sequence.”

The scientists began to carefully decrease the output of the lasers. As they did so, the portal began to shrink. When it reached the size of a dinner plate, there was a flash of light. The triumphant mood in the lab was instantly shattered by this unexpected anomaly, as every scientist was blinded. No one saw the small, worm-like creature that appeared in the firing chamber. In the panic and confusion, no one saw as it began its metamorphosis, slowly changing from a worm to a small winged figure, almost human except for the curving horns. Although they could not see, the scientists all cried out in horror as the winged devil threw its head backward and laughed triumphantly with a sound like a cacophonous roar.

Andrew awoke in a chair. He had no idea how he’d managed to get into the chair, but it was readily apparent that he’d managed to stay in the chair during his unconsciousness through the efforts of six hefty leather straps–one each across wrists, ankles, chest, and lap. The straps held him quite securely to the chair, a fact he became acutely aware of over a period of intense struggling.

Looking around him, Andrew noticed three things. First, he was in a small space defined by four concrete walls. Second, the wall in front of him had a small speaker inset near the top. Third, and this fact gained his undivided attention the instant he noticed it, the walls to each side of him bristled with dozens of spikes.

“Andrew,” said a woman’s voice from the speaker. “I’m glad to see that you’ve finally come around. I was about to wake you, but I hate to do that; I really hate the alarms in there.” Andrew wondered briefly what type of alarm clock would be distasteful to a person who not only had access to a small torture chamber, but actually used it.

“Now that you are awake, we can attend to the true purpose for your presence. What is my name, Andrew?”

“What?” said Andrew, thoroughly bewildered. “How am I supposed to know your name?”

The spiked side walls ratcheted closer.

In the chair, Andrew started, and renewed his struggle against the straps.

“This is the reason we’re here, Andrew. You are supposed to know my name, because you have known it already. I have told it to you. However, you seem to have forgotten it, which is something I don’t wish to happen again. So, I hope to help you permanently remember it. What is my name, Andrew?”

“I don’t know! How am I supposed to know your name? I don’t know anything about you!”

The spiked side walls ratcheted closer.

In the chair, Andrew began to panic in earnest now, and his frantic struggles caused the chair’s straps to rip into the skin of his wrists.

“Ah, but I’ve already given you two hints, Andrew. The first was the sound of my voice, which I’d hoped would immediately bring my name to mind, but it at least tells you I am a woman. Second, you know that I have told you my name in the past, so we must be acquainted. You failed to remember after both hints, thus two encroachments. So, a third: we have made love.”

Andrew remained silent, hoping that by refusing to play her game, he could gain some time.

The spiked side walls ratcheted closer.

In the chair, Andrew whimpered. The spikes were very close now. Andrew couldn’t tell whether they would pierce him on the next encroachment or not, but they would at least be very close.

“Readily remembering the name of a loved one is important, Andrew. I will give you another hint. You told me that we had a deep connection; that we were meant to be together.”

“Um, Allison?” Andrew said, hopefully.

The spiked side walls ratcheted closer.

In the chair, Andrew began to shriek as the spikes pierced deeply into the skin of his arms.

“Calling a woman by another’s name can have dire consequences, can it not, Andrew? Well, I am nothing if not charitable, so here is a final hint. You were my first, but being diagnosed with syphilis let me know that I was not yours.”

Desperate, Andrew began screaming the names of every woman he could remember sleeping with. “Elizabeth, Susan, Christa, Tamika, Keiko, Sara, Ange…”

The spiked side walls ratcheted closer.

In the chair, Andrew ceased his tirade as the spikes pierced his body.

“I’m terribly sorry, Andrew,” the woman said.